… where sa-tyres never go flat
… where sa-tyres never go flat
You hear fuel price is dropping by ₦10 and instead of relaxing, you rush to fill your tank and your two yellow jerrycans — because you know it’s only a matter of time before they “correct the mistake.” It’s not a celebration. It’s preparation.
This pot has seen things. It has seen me boil water I had no intention of using, just to convince my body that life was happening. It has seen me cook noodles with only pepper and pride. It has seen me measure crayfish like diamonds, count seasoning cubes like votes. My pot knows the weight of scarcity. It knows that sometimes, hunger is not a feeling. It’s a timeline.
Our leader–Man of the Pee Poo pulls out the car manual, but it’s written in Chinese, a language he can’t comprehend except the “one-year warranty” part. So he begins the journey with the words, “We go run am.” But not long after, a stench reaches the noses of the passengers. With concern, they suggest he hand over to Obi, a more qualified driver, as the journey is too far. However, he dismisses their worries with a nonchalant, “Just get me quality diapers.”
Every year, billions of money that the can break the jaw of a counter are allocated for my manicure and pedicure in the budget. Those monies are always too blind to locate me. The only place they know is the coffers of the same old corrupt politicians. The little that manages to locate me is usually shared with contractors who are always keen on having the lion’s share. Hence, my dreadful state!
This year’s 29th day of May is significant as it is on this day five years ago that Buhari declared the mother of all wars on corruption. His acceptance speech on that historic day in May 2015 marked the gradual death of Corruption. The story was told of how Mr Corruption could not withstand the superior firepower of Buhari’s highly motivated anti-corruption soldiers.
We are taking count of dead bodies in the streets. Those are the result of well-fed people. Those that saw a surplus of food and decided to kill themselves with it. Don’t mind them. Those dead bodies by our doorsteps are just fools who thought too much wine won’t harm them. The wine you brought for them to celebrate your already won 2019 election, they drank before the party started and killed themselves. Remember your Excellency that when a child that doesn’t know how to make money gets money from his father, he can’t control himself anymore.
I am sure that you are aware that your state governors have found us a nuisance to be decisively dealt with. We have suddenly become unfit to remain in those states. Since cattle business no longer thrives at the moment, trailers used in conveying cattle are now being used to farm us out of the respective states. After all, we are regarded as being only a bit better than maalu.
To die well in Nigeria, you need to have lived an infamous life. And, to achieve this, first be a politician or hold a public office. Do not be a public or civil servant as the office may imply but endeavour to rule rather than serve. For rulership is for the strong, while service is for the weak and gullible. Make sure abuse sets in, trample on the poor, and lie to them.
The visitor has proven to be very respectful. Upon arrival, it chose to visit the elite, the movers and shakers of our national life. It is even rumoured that the mischievous fellow visited our real president and not the continental import from that vast savannah of Sudan.
“Public places? Make I no go market again? What of all the contacts I’m forced to make in the market? So I should keep washing my hands when there are many customers?”
