Donald Duke: A Fake Duke

Loud Whispers

By now, you must have heard that I carried some big people to go spend the weekend with Chief Olusegun Obasanjo. It was fun o. The library is a complete package. From the serene Green Legacy Hotel to the Museum, where you will find a huge helicopter, the car Baba drove home when he was leaving the government this last time and the Landcruiser he was said to have been driven in when General Sani Abacha came to pick him up. In fact, we were told that the same Landcruiser came to pick him up at the airport when God finally saved his neck.

The library itself was well curated with over 60 years of Nigerian history well-kept and chronologically well arranged. Baba even brought back his Presidential desk where we all took turns to sit and take pictures.
Well, the highlight of the visit was the session we had pre-arranged to have with Baba. All 60 of us, came to Abeokuta on a Leadership Strategy session, to look at the polity, engage Baba and see how we can be better informed as we begin to spread out in a bid of reclaiming this country end to end.

That is how we were ready for the session by 3pm and we did not see Baba. I had suspected that something was about to happen. As I walked towards the venue of the session, I saw a huge crowd of people in ‘dirty’ white. Asked, who are all these people and why are their clothes so dirty. They say that they are PDP people who came to see Baba. But why are their clothes so dirty? How will we vote for them like this? Wetin concern me.

That was how I now got a call from Vitalis. Vitalis is Baba’s main man. He said, “Edgar come up and see what is going on so you see what we are facing. These people just came in unannounced.”

I replied: “Vitalis, I don’t know what you are talking about o. Bring Baba come down here now, because these people that have paid to come for this session, are thinking that I have used their head o, before they will now go and tear my cloth. Vitalis still insisted that I should “just come.”

Immediately I entered the room, I saw all the PDP big guns o. From their Chairman Ayu, to Mimiko, to Peter Obi and my brother Donald Duke. They filled up the room and were eating.

So, I went straight to the only PDP man I know, His Excellency the great Donald Duke and said, “Morning my Lord.” He looked up from his bowl of food and smiled and said those immortal words, ‘Fake Duke’.

I laughed. I like him. He is a great man. One of the rare ones in our clime. Visionary, principled and firm. Still very good looking with a calm mien. The beautiful ones never get the chance.

At that moment, Baba called out my name, “Edgar, are you ready for me?” I said “Baba since o’’ and he said let’s go. He left and joined me.

While we were in the session with Baba, the news filtered out that he had just rejected their overture of coming back to PDP and I was wondering, why after receiving that kind of rejection, they could still wait and eat. What is wrong with this PDP people sef. Food?

AFCON: BLAME BUHARI NOT

I think someone should warn this Reno. It is enough. The yabis of our president is too much mbok. It is getting too far and I am not enjoying it again. So, because Baba called the boys, that was why we were defeated?

There is nothing further from the truth. The main reason why they lost that match is because me, I watched it. I never watched our matches make I no go kill myself as I dey struggle with BP.

But as I was hearing the giant strides that they were doing in the early rounds, I started getting interested. I started feeling like watching the match but my patriotism was pulling me back. I have not watched a match that our people have won in the last five years. My count is 100 per cent loss.

That was how I now walked into my living room and saw that we were already one goal down. Kai, I should have just continued to the kitchen where Duchess had kept a warm plate of Afang brimming with all sorts inside.

Dr. Nwabuoko had said, I should cut down on the swallow and do the Afang without oil. This was my first attempt at it and was kind of very suspect but that was how the devil made me sit-down to watch the match o.

The next thing, I saw red card on one boy with dreadlock. I don’t even know his name but I saw that he was wearing our jersey. I wondered which kind wahala be this. The next minute, I saw our boys running around like headless chickens, in confusion as if they were running from a riot in Oshodi market.

The Nigerian confusion was palpable on the field. Everybody running ‘helter skelter’. No leadership, no cohesion, no strategy. Just fire brigade. Make we go score, make them no win, what Yoruba people call- Jati -Jati.

Mbok, referee blew the final whistle and cleared the rubbish, make I go eat my Afang abeg.

Now we are now shouting Buhari. Please let’s leave the Daddy alone as he prepares for a glorious exit after over 40 years of wonderful service to the fatherland. Reno be warned.

MARYANN EZECHUKWU: A LESSON IN COURAGE

Please let me crave your indulgence to send a huge shout out to this beautiful lady. Maryann Ezechukwu is a picture of elegant resilience and I am sure there are millions of women like her littered all over our nation, it’s just that this is the one I know.

Widowed about 20 years ago, she decided not to go the normal path of wearing sackcloth and be shouting all over the place seeking pity and support. She refused to position herself in the normal and expected mold thereby positioning herself in vulnerable servitude to the randiness that comes with the terrain via the Pharisees and Sadducees who litter our society.
She braved up and built a beautiful banking career. Working with such gilt-edged firms like GTBank and Access Bank where she rose to executive cadre. But that is not the story o.

Maryann, one day after gleaning tremendous experience from banking, went into the Ikeja drink market and collected one small shop and started selling drinks. Me, I will go there and be laughing at her because she stuck out like a sore thumb.
I would tease her: “why would you ‘carry big Prado Jeep come siddon for market with illiterate people dey sell biggie?” She would reply, laughing “Edgar, leave me o.”

So, from that one small shop, she has built one of the biggest drinks franchises in the whole of Lagos, emerging one of the biggest wholesale distributors of all the major brands. Her smile is now something else. She has trudged, worked, pushed, huffed and puffed and today, she sits on top of a huge empire with a big smile.
I thought I should tell her story to inspire others, to celebrate her and to keep saying to her that we are really very proud of her accomplishments. Ikenna will be smiling wherever he is now and be saying, that is my girl. Well-done.

ABDULRAHMAN ABDULRAZAQ: SILENT MUSINGS

It just dawned on me that I have never really looked towards this our Excellency. I think I saw someone that looked like him at the Ibori party but his simplicity made me not give him a second look.

Then I saw a write up that showed that 56% of his cabinet was female and that struck me. That was novel especially in that part of the country and it made me begin to dig a little bit deeper. He has built a tech driven ICU, the first I hear in the North-central Zone. He has put in place a social audit programme which enables civic groups to audit and access government projects. This and other such initiatives started ‘piking’ my interest in his administration and the man himself.

Prior to this, all I engaged with was his running battle with the ‘great’ Lai Mohammed for control of party structures in the state and the huge fight with the Sarakis on land matters and the obviously earth shaking ‘oto ge’ movement which brought him into power.

This may just be a very poorly sold success story in governance, we may not know. But let’s look deeper, we may just find something deeper. Hmmm.

CITIZEN KAYODE EHIZODE

Today has been a day of celebrating special Nigerians and none come better than Citizen Kayode. Let me tell you guys the gist.

So we all live in one small estate in Yaba on the border of Shomolu. A community of just 40 units with all ethnic divisions represented. We also have governing structures and a constitution that guides relationships and maintains law and order. We have elections and vote in exco who stays for a tenure.

The exco I met was draconian. Led by a CBN staff, he ruled with an iron fist. Well, maybe because they were pioneering and had to be stiff to put in place a workable infrastructure that will lead us going forward. So, for that I forgive the intransigence and abuse of power that came with that.

As is usual the case in things like this, they lost a second term. I personally had sworn that I will do everything within my powers not to see them back. The harshness had reached unbearable limits.

A more amenable team was elected and they went about reducing tension and putting in place a more open and responsive environment where decisions were taken by consensus and open voting.

We had murdered sleep as the past exco with their supporters led by some retired personnel went into opposition, throwing clogs at every decision.

It all recently came to a head, when the exco decided to install CCTV cameras in the estate to strengthen security. The minority who by this time had stopped coming for meetings pushed against it.

In frustration, the exco went ahead with the decision and as a result could not meet other obligations, specifically could not meet the servicing of the giant generators that gave us power.

We had just 13 days before they would be shut down and the estate would go into complete darkness. The minority stood their ground, they will not pay and we can all suffer.

Stalemate. What do we do? Why would a tiny group do this? Why would they go against the majority position in a democracy like this? These are well read, supposedly well enlightened individuals complete with lawyers, oil and gas people, bankers and retired top military personnel.

The next morning, we saw a post on the estate group. Citizen Kayode had offered to pay the over N700,000 bill. He wanted no refund, he just wanted peace. I cried.

Kayode is prematurely retired. So, he is giving us this money from reserve and this made me cry all the more. What manner of man. He has always been very gentle, godlike, not overtly religious but just a good man.
I respect him and like him. He makes me feel less of a man. He is heads above the rest of us for so willingly making this kind of huge sacrifice not because he has the money, but to prove a point that – consensus, true love and peace is just what we need in this life.

For the coconut heads, I leave them to their misery. Kayode is a man worthy of emulation.

UNILAG: CAVEAT EMPTOR

As an alumnus, I cannot see something and keep quiet. Yes, I attended UNILAG for my Masters in Political Science and the fact that I hardly went to class no mean that I am not a bonafide member of that community.

Someone sent me a post circulated among students of a post graduate class, supposedly from the class governor. Let me reproduce it verbatim so you see the ‘one chance’ we are in this country.

“There is something very valuable I have to share with you. I understand this because I graduated from UNILAG and I feel I should expand the good movement to you. It is good to read and pass but it is often said that ‘Na person wey know the way, na him know the book’.

“I will like to bring up the exam package where you will have an alternative to rewrite your exam with the solution given to you after you might have tried your best in the exam hall. I will illustrate this better if you can call or when we see physical. It will indeed help you to graduate well. This package even helps you if you won’t be around during the exam time. This is how it works:

“Appearance – Accounting and Finance N60,000 each, other courses N50,000 each. None appearance N270,000. Removal of picture from portal to be replaced with the picture of the person to take the exam and removing it and putting your picture again another N60,000.”

My people, you see why when you are doing an interview, you will see Second Class Upper graduate and he will be speaking English like Bassey Okon.

Vice Chancellor, up to you or should we kuku just call EFCC because from this, it is very obvious that your staff are deep in this mess. Rubbish.

SAMMIE OKPOSO: COWARDLY WARRI MAN

Just as I was about to fire, I saw that he had brought down the post in which he was apologising to his wife and the rest of us for something that was not only so sweet but was said to have done it so well that the thing resulted to ‘bele’.
When I first saw the post where he was allegedly apologising, I laughed. This thing we dey all do am na. When you put yourself in a box that is not your own, that is how you will be getting this kind thing.

You know who you are. You know that once you see ‘something’ you must chook, you say you be pastor or whatever and then it happens and then you say you apologise.

Me, I don’t apologise anything to anybody o. Once they catch me, I claim victim straight. I agree, I did it but immediately say, I am weak and cannot control myself and I need therapy. It works. I tell you. You guys should try it.
The deliberateness of the whole thing makes the apology a sick joke. You plan it, you fly to US, you take am for dinner, you stroll to the house, enter the bedroom, open your cloth, kiss am, talk to am, she do small shakara, you persuade, you toast, you promise am gift, you kiss and then you start work. Finish the first one, you start again, the same motions and then after, you take your bath and enter plane come back Lagos.

You are caught, you come dey do like Bill Clinton dey issue statement of apology. Apology kill you there.
I don’t know why you dropped the post; I sure hope someone has spoken some sense to you. What does your apology do to the lady who is claiming that you impregnated her? Is she now some dreaded disease with no personality or dignity? Is it because she listened to you and was persuaded by your sweet nothings, she should now suffer the indignity of this your ‘stupid’ apology?

Be a man. Say, “guys sometime in the US, I met a very beautiful woman and got carried away. I made love to her and she got pregnant. I am in the process of working this out with my dear wife with a view to seeking a mutually accepted middle of the road solution to this quagmire. In this regard, I would crave the understanding of the general public as we push through this obviously difficult time.”

That is what you should have sent out, not that cowardly thing you first posted. Thank God you have dropped it.
My brother claim victim. It works. Me, I am a perpetual victim.

PREMIER HOSPITAL: THE MORNING AFTER

I was at ground zero yesterday on a private visit to the Premier Hospital in Victoria Island. This was truly the premier facility for private health care delivery in the country. Well located within the hubris of commercial highbrow Nigeria. Once proud and grabbed its position at the top and moved beautifully and arrogantly like a young virgin in the eye of many a randy suitor.

Then she passed. Public anger hit like a tsunami and all hell was broke loose
Today, I see restrained caution as I walk into its still beautiful and neat compound. I had come for a private visit to one of its promoters and I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

As I was ushered in, the phone rang. Watching her calmly talk to a patient, assuring him of support and care made me want to look closer because of the level of professionalism and humanity that I saw in that voice was engaging.

As she drops the phone, she says, “Edgar the public never sees this side.”
I agree.

She continued: “We were all here, we tried our best but this had to happen. They want to go for our jugular led by an old adversary who was fueled by ancient bile.”

This was 30 years of her life. Thirty years of providing top notch health care delivery services in a polity that was stifling creativity and initiative in not only that sector but in almost all areas.

I liked her. Beneath that seeming delicateness was the steely resolve to wade through this and reemerge. Her sincerity shining through, her openness and her quick need to explain it all to me even as a mere stranger all showed me the encompassing structure that is Premier, the same Premier that is now struggling for its life in the midst of the most turbulent turbulence it has ever faced.

But as I walked away, something tells me that this is indeed the very beginning of a solid rebirth. I feel it but let me run away first because I really am afraid of hospitals.

HANIFA ABUBAKAR: MY BABY, MY CHILD

Her beauty and innocence were all the weapons she had to fight off this beast. But alas those were primal weapons against the deviousness and wickedness of a full-grown monster with bile in his mouth. He just had to take her body and send her soul to heaven. He violated her, killed her and still had the guts to go pay a condolence visit.

It is no wonder that we all have lost our sense of due process. His lynching has been advocated. His immediate execution has been pushed and it is very hard as I write not to agree.

Is he saying that as he was about to plunge the knife, her beautiful eyes did not plead with him? What manner of beast.

What manner of virulently sick individual. This act is so physically far from me but so emotionally intimate that I have not been able to sleep as her beauty, her bravery and her childlike innocence continue to haunt me. All she wanted was to be taught, to be guided, to be brought up so she can contribute and also be a mother but in the process, she died. Kill him. Simple.