To Mafoluku in the hinterland of Oshodi where the indefatigable Baba Lekki, with Okon ably assisting, is fielding questions on the state of the nation from journalists in a ramshackle and abandoned plaza belonging to an old politician. This is one area of contention where the crazy boy will never be able to match Baba Lekki’s fiery anti-establishment intellect and cerebral wit. In Shakespearean drama, an assistant clown is known as a fool’s zany and Okon was on his zaniest form this gloomy and mournful afternoon.
Nigerians are a hard dying lot. Nothing, and absolutely nothing, can get them down for long. Despite the underlying currents of hardship and acute discontent in the land, the Christmas season this year got underway much earlier than usual. There has been much rollicking and frolicking in the air. Nigerians do not let go of fun and its fares very easily. On this Christmas Eve, they flocked to the scene of amusement and enjoyment in droves.
Despite its rather shabby and unkempt premises, its faded coatings, its dirty curtains, derelict furniture and faded glory, the Pingolo Plaza wore a look of undying relevance and infectious optimism. There was great expectation of a better tomorrow for the nation and its people. Nothing was going to stop Nigeria from fulfilling its manifest destiny. This was God’s own sacred covenant with the Black Race after centuries of suffering and humiliation.
One man who did not buy this saccharine and anodyne nonsense was Baba Lekki. “The Black person is a historic fiasco. Nothing can redeem it, and nothing can improve its stock or fortune, not even a genetic reconfiguration of the human species,” the old sadist and certified kill-joy concluded in what he called his last testament to his late wife hinting at his own imminent translation.
He had arrived at the Plaza that afternoon wearing a mournful and haggard look while eyeing everybody with superior scorn. He beamed a hateful stare at the joyous and happy-go-lucky crowd and then exploded. “Look, I hate people being happy when they should be unhappy.”
“Baba, to appear happy when you are deeply hurt is the best revenge against bad leadership”, one man in the crowd noted with a scholarly grimace.
“Very well said. Ori yen so”, an upbeat Lagosian dandy noted as the crowd roared in rowdy approval. Nothing, it appeared at that moment, was going to deflate the upbeat mood or overturn the sunny optimism of the people this dreary afternoon. The only jarring note of discord emanated from a hefty oak of a man with flared nostrils and the visage of autochthonous dwellers of remote mountains who sat in a corner mumbling intermittently. “Rice o, compatriots!”.
When this did not seem to be gaining much traction with the crowd, he switched tactics and began chanting, “arise o compatriots, rise up, up rise.” This linguistic mischief seemed to have caught the attention of the dandy Lagosian.
“Are you asking for rice or uprise? “ the Lagos dandy demanded.
“Yoruba man, mind una business, whether na rice dem bring or na uprise we bring no dey matter. He no matter which name you call an ogbanje pikin, as ogbanje pikin must quench”, the man shot back. At this point, and in order to bring the interactive session alive, one of the journalists present, a pompous little fellow with the airs of a fatuous attention seeker virtually collared Baba Lekki.
“Ngbo Baba, is it true that you don’t suffer fools gladly?”, he demanded. The old man eyed the journalist with icy disdain before putting him on the canvas.
“So, how come I am suffering you very gladly right now?” Baba Lekki shot back.
“Kai, kai, baba don suffer dis one well, well. See how him mouth dey dance?” Okon crowed.
“Wo Okon, I don tell you say dis matter no be for pepper soup boys or periwinkle people”, Baba Lekki gently chided Okon and turning on the crestfallen journalist, he ordered. “Now, you, ask me another question”, an invitation declined with the poor fellow vigorously shaking his head in disavowal. This gave a more thoughtful looking journalist an opportunity to step forward.
“Sir, what do you think about this local border closure accompanied by international border opening? Is there a contradiction somewhere?” he opened cautiously.
“Ah good question. To tell you the truth I no longer understand the man. You cannot regulate at home while you are deregulating abroad. How can you close local borders when you are throwing open your international borders for all comers? The law says you cannot approbate and reprobate at the same time. So, this is what Fela calls Ojuelegba”, Baba Lekki crowed with wicked humour.
There was pin drop silence followed by a loud rumble of approaching commotion. The man who had been crying for rice had decided to up the ante.
“You dis yeye Yoruba people, na too know go kill you. I say rice no dey and you come dey blow grammar. Wetin concern common man with dem border? Dem close border for Seme and come go open all dem border for Egypt. No be say dem one bring dem Araba be dat? Which kind open and close nonsense be dat?” the man screamed and began attacking everybody in sight.
