I have always loathed politics, since forever. Since when the choir of the ordinary masses would rise on the alter of anguish, and sing: Politics is a dirty game!
The intrigues of politics have since nauseated me. That moment people dumped cleanliness, shunned impeccability, gave up, and latched onto the odious dirt of the dirty game.
But the day I finally fell in love with politics, was the day it occurred to me that some things are better left comic and comedic. Rather than brood every now and then over the implosion of governance, just sit back, laugh, guffaw, and enjoy the hilarious skit while it lasts. That way, you'll live long amid the pugnacious melodramas our politics and politicians have to offer.
Osun election was one of a kind in Nigerian electoral history. Unlike the presidential fisticuffs in 2015, or other elections Nigerians have had to contend with ever since, the Guber race wasn't between PDP and APC. No. Whoever understood the politics would see. It was clearly between Ogbeni Aregbe, whose people felt had failed to deliver, and OTHERS.
Sadly enough, the people were so blinded by fury and rage, that the ridiculous persona of the penultimate candidate— despite its clarity— was overlooked.
The travesty of any serious guber material, our own Michael Jackson, the dancing man in a chef's cap, was opted for— as a revenge on Ogbeni, for his 'modulated-salary' days in Office. The great people of Osun were guided by the principle of hunger: A hungry man is an angry man. They forgot Ogbeni's good works so suddenly. So, they snubbed his candidate.
But there's something about fury, about revenge. It sweetens the avenger, while it lasts. It redeems the lost excitement at the moment. But ultimately, when the moment vanishes, its corollary begins to haunt his nightmares.
So, the engendered controversy shot Omisore into limelight, a man whose signature cap faces his north. He seems the only bride that can save Osun's matrimonial bed, in effect. He's the Inamorata, the political woman every guber gladiator must fall in love with. Tomorrow is no longer in the hands of anyone, but him.
Funnily enough, our politicians would not do that secretly. No closed door meeting, no mid-night sneaking. Its now an open jostle in a battle of persuasion and romance. APC's Ministerial appointment versus Whatever Saraki had to offer him.
But if Iyiola Omisore would listen to me. Should he get mesmerized by Saraki's heaven-on-earth promises, I'm afraid his political carrier will not 'gbera' until 2027! Saraki 2019? My dear. . .forget it!
Anyway, I shall sit back as usual, enjoy the comedy, envisage what befalls Osun tomorrow, and see who hooks the bride.
Congratulations Mr. Omisore, Osun's new Inamorata! Do enjoy it while it lasts.
But the day I finally fell in love with politics, was the day it occurred to me that some things are better left comic and comedic. Rather than brood every now and then over the implosion of governance, just sit back, laugh, guffaw, and enjoy the hilarious skit while it lasts. That way, you'll live long amid the pugnacious melodramas our politics and politicians have to offer.
Osun election was one of a kind in Nigerian electoral history. Unlike the presidential fisticuffs in 2015, or other elections Nigerians have had to contend with ever since, the Guber race wasn't between PDP and APC. No. Whoever understood the politics would see. It was clearly between Ogbeni Aregbe, whose people felt had failed to deliver, and OTHERS.
Sadly enough, the people were so blinded by fury and rage, that the ridiculous persona of the penultimate candidate— despite its clarity— was overlooked.
The travesty of any serious guber material, our own Michael Jackson, the dancing man in a chef's cap, was opted for— as a revenge on Ogbeni, for his 'modulated-salary' days in Office. The great people of Osun were guided by the principle of hunger: A hungry man is an angry man. They forgot Ogbeni's good works so suddenly. So, they snubbed his candidate.
But there's something about fury, about revenge. It sweetens the avenger, while it lasts. It redeems the lost excitement at the moment. But ultimately, when the moment vanishes, its corollary begins to haunt his nightmares.
So, the engendered controversy shot Omisore into limelight, a man whose signature cap faces his north. He seems the only bride that can save Osun's matrimonial bed, in effect. He's the Inamorata, the political woman every guber gladiator must fall in love with. Tomorrow is no longer in the hands of anyone, but him.
Funnily enough, our politicians would not do that secretly. No closed door meeting, no mid-night sneaking. Its now an open jostle in a battle of persuasion and romance. APC's Ministerial appointment versus Whatever Saraki had to offer him.
But if Iyiola Omisore would listen to me. Should he get mesmerized by Saraki's heaven-on-earth promises, I'm afraid his political carrier will not 'gbera' until 2027! Saraki 2019? My dear. . .forget it!
Anyway, I shall sit back as usual, enjoy the comedy, envisage what befalls Osun tomorrow, and see who hooks the bride.
Congratulations Mr. Omisore, Osun's new Inamorata! Do enjoy it while it lasts.
Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto
No comments:
Post a Comment