“Goodluck falls apart as Turai still holds the centre….”

courtesy of 234Next.com

You see……for those of you in colder climates, observing afar the live rendition of the Nollywood script “Goodluck falls apart as Turai holds the centre“, directed by ….well now, who should we appoint as the director? Ibori? Anodoakaa? or Taminu? (all influential Presidential aides). No let it be Turai, our 1^st lady. She will be perfect. Don’t you think so? And so we have it, the drama of Yaradua, Turai and the never ending plot.

I tell you, it is fun observing it all.

As captured on Silverbird TV Channel

Far from it, I am neither stressed nor burnt out by all that is happening around me. William Butler Yeats in his poetic rendering of “The Second coming” (no pun proposed) could not have put it better. Mind you, you could be forgiven if you think our President had inspired this rendering of his. Read what he had to say;

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

In this plot, the Yar’aduas simply cannot hear Nigerians at all. It’s amazing what power can do.

A friend of mine, Niyi Abiona, whom I fondly call Omoba always remind me that a poor man, or that which fervently prays for more, financially, has a behaviour which is borrowed. His real behaviour, he gesticulates, is given birth when he gets the break through. The same can be said for Turai. Power can be addictive.

So don’t worry about us here in Nigeria. I can assure you that God is also having fun watching these megalomaniacs in the amphitheatre called Nigeria.

Oh talking about fun, it is the only way, delusional or not, that I employ to deflect the parasites that harbour the stress bugs. Honestly, you need to see me driving, watching all around me. I see so much now that I have been driving myself. I smile to myself. Laugh with myself. Sometimes talk to myself (wouldn’t want this to be a habit, you know what I mean?). I gesticulate. I whip my head from east to west. Stretch from North to South. I just have fun, listening to incoherent radio callers to Brilla FM criticising Nigerian Football Federal officials or the Super Eagles coach. I laugh at these callers who turn up their radios whilst calling in at the same time. You can imagine the echo that accompanies every word. The presenter says nothing. In fact, he encourages it. How irritating, but addictive.

I laugh at the horns that blare. I only get to know that it is coming from an okada (commercial cyclist) as he zooms pass me with excitement and unbeknown of his irritation. The mobile horns are such a part of life on the roads here in Nigeria that, if only you know what you are not missing. I still cannot get use to this indulgence of these thugs. Some drivers honestly think it’s a toy that needs to be fondled not every now or there, but by the nanosecond.

Two days ago, early in the morning, and I mean just before 6am, the horn executors were already at work. Yes, that early in the morning. There was this particular bus driver who was giving the smaller saloon car was attempting to change lane a hard time. The car, dutifully indicating a right movement turn in front of him. You could see he was pleading by now. But no way was the bus driver going to give him the opportunity. He drove on, blocking his path, sucking up the littlest of space, almost kissing the car bumper ahead.

I looked on at the drama as it played out live in front of me, and the smile and laughter visited drowning whatever stress may be lurking around at that early morning. With the sound of a locomotive horn, the bus driver adjusted what appeared to be a bandana with the American stripes. He was obviously very proud to have it as he tightened the knot on his forehead.

Suddenly my car was next to his bus, I looked at him. He looked back and accompanied it with a smile and a hoot blaring that locomotive double barrel sound.

It was the opportunity I needed. I turned down the volume to the car radio, looked across, and asked, demanding what the heaven sake was with the locomotive horn. With a smile, he replied “oga, na for make traffic move sir”. “Really?” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster up that early in the morning. “And all the cars wey day in front of you, na the horn go move am, abi?” I managed to ask. “Yes oh, oga”, he went on to say with the same plastic smile. “You see oga, the cars dey move now”, as we both drove off. Thank God he gave our little chit-chat some respect as I no longer heard the sound of the locomotive horn until I veered off into Adetokunbo Ademola road.

4x4 male driver versus Woman driver

Now that is Nigeria for you. The Nigeria that ditches out the stress and in equal proportion the fun to combat it.

I live in Nigeria and watch how things that are deemed impossible by other nations in the world are miraculously found possible in Nigeria while things that are equally deemed so impossible by the same nations of the world are found possible in Nigeria. That is Nigeria the land of opportunities that I so admire.

Welcome to a great nation called Nigeria, a nation full of good people.

Oh, just in case you are not aware. It’s a public holiday in Nigeria. We would be celebrating Mohammed’s birthday.

So Happy Mawlid al-Nabi to all my Muslim friends.

God bless you all for stopping by.