*Mama Igosun makes a riot
* On the banality of evil
It was while swimming on the beach at Tarkwa Bay that a group of boys first saw what looked like a monstrous creature struggling in the turbulent seas. It was a huge monster, which looked like a huge fish, a sea animal and a prehistoric amphibious bird, all together in one. It was luminously black and its glossy skin glowed at a brilliant sunset, creating the effects of an optical illusion. It was a whale.
While the strange creature dived and walked away in the shallow waters in obvious distress, the boys abandoned their tied canoe and followed them. The ripples were powerful and strong enough to deflect a large ship. At night and still shaking under his mother's dark sheet, one of the boys told the matriarch about the strange sight. She silenced him. “You fool, when I told you to finish the malaria potion that you refused. Now he's back, ”the harassed woman shouted at a delinquent son.
No one has seen or seen a whale in these climates before. There was not even a name for it in antiquity or contemporary language. The strange stray shark was spotted in adjacent waters. Occasionally, the lone sea lion carcass or seal outside the message is washed ashore. From time to time, it is known that a miniature version of the piranha entangles the trawl. And impressed by its enormous size, the local population called the hippopotamus a water elephant.
Still, not a word about the real thing: the whale. Until that historic moment, its existence belonged to the realm of intrepid dreams or the malarial imagination. But since the whale is a migratory mammal, it is quite possible that it learned to give these coasts ample space because it was hunted to extinction in an earlier era.
On the other hand, as the scientific legend says that the whale once lived on land, but returned to the water when things got very difficult, the ancient caution could have led to avoiding the ancient killing grounds of West Africa. Even for wild mammals, the fear of these margins is the beginning of wisdom.
All of this became the subject of aerial speculation when the citizens of the crazed megalopolis woke up that rain-soaked morning to find the disturbing reality of a stranded whale as its august guest. In the middle of the morning, a huge crowd gathered to take a look at the gigantic monstrosity.
No one had seen anything like this before. Those who thought the elephant was the ultimate creation could not believe his eyes. What was more massive than ten huge elephants together? But the monster simply ignored everyone from time to time by making a high-pitched sound that brought the lord's fear to the crowd.
The next morning, the stranded giant had joined two other giant whales. This was no ordinary coincidence. Something new was happening in this turbulent part of Africa. No one had seen a whale before not to mention three jumbo whales at the same time. A large part of the rehabilitated Maroko beach was now occupied by stranded whales.
Upon hearing the news of the strange visitors who spread like wildfire in the harmattan, the entire interior of the country emptied into an already besieged mega city. Very soon, things took on the color and atmosphere of a beach carnival for the oppressed and unhappy. People were having one whale at a time. For many homeless vagrants and vagabonds, it was their first chance to see the city in its sparkling opulence accompanied only by the unpleasant cruelty of its slums and its decadent infrastructure. It was like Havana before the Cuban revolution.
To be fair to the government of Mallam Mansa Musa, he quickly assembled a team of experts to study the strange visit. In view of the urgency of the situation, they were given a year to submit their report, with provisions for multiple extensions, should they wish to travel abroad. These comrades were notable scientists and oceanographic consultants who had seen actions on the coast of New Zealand and on the island of Okinawa.
They had worked with merchant whalers and other buccaneers at sea. They measured the volume and width of the bulbous invaders and came to the conclusion that, by regular standards, they were not ordinary whales. They recommended that they be towed back to the depths of the ocean without further ado.
But there was an immediate problem. In the history of the country and in all its extension and breadth, there was, and never was, this type of trailer. Until that moment, the nation had lived miracles and survived miracles. Since its birth, the nation has flirted with suicide, often reaching the edge of an apocalypse before being dramatically liberated by the God of the Black Man.
In September 1992, when the cream of the country's mid-level military officers perished in one of the most infamous aeronautical scandals of the century, traumatized citizens had to wait twelve full hours before receiving help from a German company based in the country. By now it was too late for the boys.
It was not the impact of the accident in the shallow swamps of Ejigbo that killed the boys. Most of them actually survived the head dive. The survivors died of strangulation and suffocation. Throughout the night, the inhabitants of the peripheral slums heard the cries and screams of the brave men as they struggled and struggled to free themselves from the iron coffin.
It was like being buried alive. When they ended up being brought in, many of them had the residue from the first aid treatment that they applied to themselves in the sulphurous burial. The nation had lost the cream of its future generals and marshals.
Oh boy, the bodies of those illustrious guys stank. On the day of the burial, all of Abuja stank of skies like the abandoned slaughterhouse that the nation has become. What are we going to say to the sons of Major Sam Mesaba Ogbeha, a first-class officer and gentleman, or the newly promoted gentle giant, Colonel Taiwo Ogunjobi and many others?
None of the ranks of the military high command found it appropriate to renounce this epic disgrace of being black. They were too consumed by the vicious game of power that would bring the nation to the brink of disintegration.
Meanwhile, on the beach, things took a more dramatic turn. More whales appeared as if they were at a historic gathering of distressed mammals. The whales were piled so hard that the entire coast took on a dark and deadly hue. An observer of the last surviving military helicopter in the country, on a strange image curve, described the scene as it looks like a huge warehouse of whales in the sea waiting to unload its cargo.
Something started to happen. While some of the whales were still terminally lazy, others plunged their heads deeper into the sand in anguish. Everything started to discharge some bloody substance. Then the first, now led to the main road by the bulbous pile, let out a scary cry and went still. I was dead. Others followed quickly and the entire beach soon became a tangled mass of dead and dying whales.
Many people, now convinced that whales were a harmless mass of protoplasm, climbed the skyscraper of soft, attractive flesh, playing and gliding at will. Then a man took a knife and, with the cry of "better meat", released a huge slab from the dead whale. It was like a divine sign. Thousands of hungry and hungry men fell on dead and dying whales with all kinds of rude instruments. In a moment, the whole beach became a huge slaughterhouse, full of blood and blood.
As news of this biblical reward spread inland, many came down on the beach to get their share of the national whale. Salivating with apostolic pleasure, the country's leading spiritual trader described the whale festival as "manna from heaven". Urging his desperate congregation to make the most of it was God's way of showing that he would never abandon his, added the man of God.
Then a divine disaster occurred and, for a nation that lived on the edge of the abyss, it was massive and unforgiving. In the tropics, things flourish and perish very quickly. Obeying the tropical iron law, whales began to decompose very quickly. The next night, the entire coast was filled with a suffocating smell of decay and decay. Worse, many who had taken the strange meat began to vomit and die after a violent seizure.
Disoriented by the septic stench, the entire population began to flee in all directions. When the plague broke out, the other institutions collapsed and politicians, soldiers, clerics, traditional rulers and judges followed their heels, heading for airports or inland. Unfortunately for them, a human sandstorm of refugees washed over all airports, while dead whales washed over seaports.
In three days, it was over. The whole earth was quiet and still like a vast tomb. But this is not the lambs' silence. Born into a human disaster and fueled by a series of man-made disasters, it took a natural disaster to dominate the nation. One plague saw another plague. When politics and science fail, nature triumphs. This is the iron law of human evolution. The morning sun was shining brightly.
It's a beautiful day at Marina Quayside. (First published on this page in August 2008.)
After days of gloom and gloomy weather, it was another Friday morning. The sun rose early and shone with remarkable vigor, as if to make up for the bleak weather of the previous days. Some excitement and optimism had returned to the nation. After five weeks of an agonizing block as a result of the violent pandemic, the heart warmed with the prospect of partial relaxation.
The snooper himself is in a bad mood. The possibility of some award-winning delicacies returning to the menu, discovering Okon's propensity for sadistic antics, sent one practically passing out in expectations. The last time the madman was sent to the market to pick up fresh eggs, he came back with something like a tiny coconut that turned out to be iguana eggs.
The crazy boy had told the boss that this was what was available on the market and that he should continue. Snooper was so enraged that he threw the frying pan on the staff, which he ducked and patted Mama Igosun on the ankle on the ankle, after which someone was ballistic and berated him for not being in control of his home.
Suddenly, the fragrant and aromatic scent of sandalwood and some old ointment invaded the entire space. Sincerely, you thought the aroma was light and strangely familiar, a throwback to the old days of the village, when maidens and debutantes were preparing for the Christmas party. While the eavesdropper smelled the wonderful aroma while wondering where it was all coming from, Okon knocked on the door, panting and panting with fear.
"Oga, oga, Mom’s head doesn’t catch on fire. He doesn’t set on fire. In dem kainkain and the red Indian, he ends up smoking the woman ooo”, Okon screamed in fear and terror.
"Where, where, oh my God?" yours sincerely screamed when he came down the stairs and crossed the kitchen to the backyard, only to be seen by the most surreal spectacle of his adult life. There was the ancient stormy petrel sitting upright and ramrod in the midst of the fumes that drifted away while she saw herself smiling and admired by an antique mirror of Ottoman Turkish origin. In the background were the dying embers of the maiden's hell and the red-hot iron comb that the old woman had been running through her hair.
“Akanbi, wetting the issue? Did the boy Wetin dem kukuruku tell you? Mama Igosun asked calmly and with a mischievous gleam on her face. "I don't hit him in the morning."
"Mommy, what is all this about?" snooper asked, dejected and dejected.
"Wetin be wetin?" the old woman fired back. “I went to fire and iron my hair. The thing I've been doing with your mother for seventy years. That's how your daddy sees me coming, say it better there. Old age does not mean Kusimilaya does not dey again. Akanbi, dem says arugbo (old woman) in dey Ghana ”.
“Mom, nobody else does that kind of thing. You can go to the hairdresser. Snooper protested to the former troublemaker.
Which hairdresser? Wetting him dey dressed? Did Dem hurt my head? Mom snarled with feigned anger.
"When you burn the house down, you'll be happy," his sincerely sulked when he left.
"Wo (look) make him burn paws, which I don't care about," Mom scoffed at the eavesdroppers' heels.
(Mallam Abba Kyari and the Adolf Eichmann paradox)
This column was flooded with requests to comment on Mallam Abba Kyari's death. There were a number of questions about our opinion. Even when this columnist objected that we never met or sighted the eminent eminent public bureaucrat, notable Nigerians insisted that column writing is a public obligation and not a matter of private desire.
An angry colleague asked if the columnist could make a connection between the poor quality of the president's last speech and the fact that the master is missing. It is known that Abba Kyari himself confided to his friends that it was when something happened to him that people will know how crucial he had been to prevent the country from falling into chaos and ungovernability.
It is with public order in mind that this brief intervention is imperative. If we hope to build a healthy country, governed by rationality and the modern ethos, the impact of a public career should not be judged by private testimonies and personal affirmation of sophomoric friendship. Traffickers in this shameful gamble are ironically reaffirming how much Nigeria is in the throes of feudal anomie.
The politicization of the obituary we witnessed shows how polarized Nigeria has become and ironic evidence of how polarizing and divisive the figure of the late Kyari is. While his numerous friends and admirers lined up to celebrate a man they had always known for his humility, his Spartan selflessness, his kindness and his spectacular acts of consideration, others objected while some went to his jugular. There were also significant silences.
When Hanna Arendt, the late Jewish philosopher, arrived in Jerusalem to cover the Adolf Eichmann trial in 1961, she was so appalled by the accused's vulgarity and provincial mediocrity that she wrote an essay entitled The Banality of Evil. project of complete dominance over other people, ordinary-looking people are capable of acts of extraordinary evil and cruelty.
The evidence of scandalous preference, institutional chaos and presidential disorder left by Kyari requires a structured and rational model for this position.