HOW TO SHOW YOU LOVE THE PRESIDENT (AND BY EXTENSION, NIGERIA)

There is no greater subject to write about than to write about love. Because really, there is no greater thing that one can do but be in love and show this love through deeds and words. In one of the holy books it is written: “The one who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love the God whom he has not seen.” I know the President is much more than just our brother but this applies perfectly. 

Love does not keep account of injury. However before we talk of injury I must state that with our president we live in a post-injury world. His extreme integrity makes this so. The president is beyond reproach and anyone who tries to cast aspersions on his good name must be deemed our enemy or at the very least an agent of our enemies. The constitution may call him the Commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces and make the buck stop at his table. However, if it is a bad buck, we must intercept it and stop it from reaching his good and clean table. Because he does not deserve to be associated with those who spoil his name even if those people are his friends or employees. 

To show you love the president carefully analyze every bad policy, gaffe, embarrassment and impropriety of government to make sure that you find the exact person responsible. It does not matter that political appointees work for the president and that for as long as they continue to work for him after their impropriety, this might seem like a vote of confidence. Sometimes, someone you are confident in can be involved in wrongdoing that has nothing to do with you. I had confidence in a certain priest who was popular growing up, until it turned out he was sleeping with our neighbor’s wife. It didn’t turn me into a bad person. Just a disappointed person. 

To show you love the president do not distract him with pressure to investigate a certain minister who is said to have financed a large part of the campaigns. These are mere rumors. Dangerous rumors even. He might have been a very good and frugal politician who knew how to save. Also his wife might have been running a huge poultry farm like that of our former president and this may have made them very rich — rich enough to contribute billions to the presidential campaign. And really this is none of your business. Love does not keep account of wrong. In fact even if this rumored minister is corrupt, it is not the president who is corrupt and he has no responsibility in this. Think of Buhari like that my neighbor whose wife was sleeping with the priest. If anything, we should feel sorry for him and his good name. 

To show you love the president, distance him from his appointees who have actually been discovered stealing money. Even if those appointees work closely with him. Sometimes in your office you will have a secretary who committing crime on the weekend to augment his or her income. Would it be fair to blame you for the crimes of this secretary? If your secretary chooses to come to Abuja on the weekend to be a sex worker or grass cutter is that your fault? Then it should be no different for the president’s secretary. I am not saying the president’s secretary is a sex worker or a grass cutter or anything like that. I don't even know if he can still have sex. I am just saying that we must love the president enough to have confidence in those in whom he has confidence. In fact, let us assume (without conceding) that the president has a secretary who is a thief on the weekends, our love for the president would make us shield the president from any blame. The worst case scenario for those who love the president is that they should be upset at the president’s secretary for making the president look bad. Because you can have thieves led by a man of integrity. (But like I said, none of this is the case.) 

To show you love the president you must not blame him for the violence that occurs when the army kills unarmed civilians whether they are Shiites or Biafra protesters. We know he is nominally the commander-in-chief bla bla bla, however he is not the commander-in-chief of the guns that individual soldiers hold. If they go out and kill people while the president is talking to his wife about his daughter’s not-so-royal wedding, how is this the president’s fault? And shouldn't we ask those dead people what they did to provoke soldiers in the first place? We all know you should not provoke soldiers. Even those Amnesty International people who write about human rights and all know this. Love for the president will make us protect him from any allegation. 

Love for the president is love for Nigeria. And if the economy is doing bad in spite of all of his integrity we must trace the root of the problem: the last president. If there is inflation, we must direct the blame at the last president whose poor handling of our commonwealth led to this crisis. And if children are starving to death in the dozens every day, we must wrap that blame in foil paper and yellow-and-black polythene bag and drop it in the lap of the former president who caused the war in the first place. Some times in spite of your best efforts, you cannot fix a broken mirror. But you can still appreciate a broken mirror. 

Love for our president will make us not remind him of his campaign promises because we know that his party was responsible for those promises not him. He is not God that can take all our problems away. He is only godly. He is our president, who can do no wrong, who sometimes may have corrupt people lurking around his office, who may have relatives that whisper in his ear, but who will not let any of these things affect his integrity. And like the man who has a priest sleeping with his wife, we must say only comforting things to him. 

We do all these because if we have not loved the president whom we can see, how can we claim to love God whom we cannot see?

REMOVING BATS ONCE AND FOR ALL

The ugly, diminutive crocodile that governed the crocodile quarters, Sir Na, had had enough. He was dealing with a fellow crocodile wanting to remove him as crocodile leader and with bats whose main home was in the trees above the crocodile quarters. Even though Sir Na had climbed up the trees when he was seeking the support of bats to become crocodile leader and rolled over on his belly to beg the leader of the bats for his support, he made a public declaration that in fact, all this while, the bats had a plan to take over the farm by blocking the sun in large numbers and destroying everything. Sir Na joined White’s genocidal farm hand Dick-Tai in killing bats, swearing to finish them off and have none of them above his quarters in the trees. 

“They defecate into the crocodile swamps below,” Sir Na said through his burnt lips, “and they want to tie us all and turn us into their slaves and turn all birds into bats but we will not let them.”

Sir Na declared the bats non-animals and said that the farm was a place only for animals whose species could be verified. “They are neither bird nor mammal and they must be destroyed.”

As he did this he kept his ear to the ground just in case the pain in White’s side would become more serious and prevent him from wanting to continue as farm manager. 

Meanwhile there were games being held between farms and the animals on White’s farm were taking part. The farm hand in charge of games, Longman, a cock with a red crown that was always foaming at the mouth, always had his feet entangled by strands of hair or ropes. His walk was awkward and unstable and he was always getting drunk from eating fermented grain. He had no idea how to handle animal games and even forgot to pay the animals representing White’s farm. When they returned, having won the games, Longman told the sports animals that he didn't realize they would come back safe and so did not have any grain or food to pay them. 

“We did not know the journey would be a success. We were sure you would be in an accident and never come back home. We are sorry.”

And animals blamed Longman for being such a horrible farm hand and not White for choosing such a horrible farm hand. 

In the South of the farm another farm hand was screaming over elections to choose the leader of the marshlands and other local animal officials. Being from the marshlands himself, the farm hand, Rot In Me, was very concerned about animals not loyal to White winning local elections. “If they attack you,” Rot In Me told Whitist worshippers, “attack them back, gouge out their eyes and break their bones.” He could not afford to have his own marshlands being controlled by animals who were disloyal and not believers in the religion of Whitism. 

In the north east of the farm, the wild dogs, energized from the recent ransom that White and his farm hands had paid to release some sheep and lambs, were attacking and setting animal quarters ablaze. White had declared that he had defeated the wild dogs but every week, the wild dogs attacked. And the animals in the north east suffered from famine because they were unable to cultivate crops or even buy and sell. The farm hands had closed the markets and no one dared till the ground. There were now more animals in danger of starving to death than there were in danger of being attacked by the wild dogs. And animals came from outside White’s farm due to the stench of rotting bodies and the wailing of emaciated animals. 

“There is a crisis on your farm White,” they said, “allow us help you get food to feed your starving subjects.”

And White got incensed at the suggestion that his animals were dying of starvation. He denied that animals were dying of starvation and that millions of animals were in need of urgent food supplies. 

“No one is starving on my farm,” White grumbled, “they are fine. They are just slimming for fashion. We have a fashion show coming up soon and they are all not eating so they can win this competition that has a huge grain prize. How dare you say my animals are dying of starvation?”

And the animals continued to die of starvation.

And Sir Na continued to kill bats. 

And wild dogs continued to attack sheep and lambs. 

And the cost of grain continued to increase on the farm. 

And all the worshippers of White blamed everyone but White for the deteriorating state of affairs on the farm. 

And all the While, White walked around, hiding the pain in his side, watching people argue about which farm hand should be fired, silent. 

AN ANIMAL FARM CONVERSATION

Aide 1: Good morning sir. I hope you slept well sir. 

Mr President: I did. Just the pain in my side. But I will be fine. If Nigeria doesn't kill me, nothing will kill me. 

Aide 2: You are fine daddy. You are perfect. You are holy. 

Mr President: Thank you. Give me the run down for today.

Aide 1: Well sir, the old man has decided to come home…

Aide 2: He finally did it sir.

Mr President: Look I know I can do no wrong and all, but I am not a magician. I cannot read your minds. Who do yo mean by old man. 

Aide 1: Oh sorry daddy. I mean Sole Woyinka sir. With the plenty white hair. 

Mr. President: Ah Sole! The white hair is not even that plenty. The man has aged. The hair is thinning out. But that is good. Is he visiting us?

Aide 2: Sir, we meant he is coming back to live here permanently. 

Mr President: What? Like forever? Whatever happened to Amer…

Aide 1: Sir he swore to destroy his green card if the orange man won the elections there. 

Aide 2: And the people online made fun of him daring him to do it sir. 

Mr President: Like on a school playground?

Aide 1: Yes sir, just like the people who, bored of two people staring at each other and not fighting, slap both people and say: whoever feels the pain most should retaliate. 

Mr President: Wonderful. So they made him tear the green card?

Aide 2: Yes sir. And he is relocating. 

Mr President: You are sure he is not going to England? It will be terrible to have him here. You know how he doesn't mind his business. 

Aide 1: Unfortunately sir, he is coming here.

Mr President: This is why I said we should increase the data tariffs. It is because these people can afford to spend all day on Facingbook and Tweeter.

Aide 2: Facebook and Twitter sir. 

Mr President: Whatever. 

Aide 2: Sorry sir. 

Mr President: So why did we not increase it again?

Aide 1: NCC backed down after people protested online sir.

Mr President: So, we can’t increase the cost of data to stop people from protesting because they will protest. 

Aide 2: Something like that sir. 

Mr President: Where are we with the rice harvest? Still expecting a bumper harvest like Audu said ko?

Aide 1: Errrm, not really sir.

Mr President: What is not really?

Aide 2: Sir they have predicted a famine.

Mr President: How did we go from bumper harvest to famine? What will we tell Nigerians?

Aide 1: It is ok sir, we will just blame the previous government. 

Aide 2: And worst case scenario, they will blame the Minister, not you. You did not make the promise. 

Mr President. You have a point. And where are we with the dollar. How much today?

Aide 1: Depends on which rate sir.

Mr President: How many rates are there?

Aide 2: A few sir. Interbank. CBN. Special rates. Your rates.

Aide 1: But the Naira is still not doing good.

Mr President: What is the CBN governor doing? What do I tell Nigerians?

Aide 1: Nothing sir. They already blame the governor. They don't like him. 

Aide 2: They are even calling for his sack. So you are fine sir. No one is blaming you.

Mr President: That’s good. What of 2019? Any more rascals making noise?

Aide 1: Your short friend with the burnt lips appears to have backed down for now. No public moves. He is facing being Governor. 

Mr President: Is he still fighting with that man fighting baldness?

Aide 1: Yes sir. They even attacked his office.

Mr President: Who did?

Aide 1: Well we suspect him but we will find out. He has some insane people working for him. Like that Ub...

Mr President: Who else? And don't tell me about that Senate President. I still have plans for him.

Aide 2: Except the former VP sir. But we are trying to get his file sir. 

Mr President: Ok. I will deal with that tomorrow. I will call Mugu. Where are we traveling to next? 

Aide 1: I’ll check the schedule sir. 

Aide 2. It is time for our first appointment sir. 

Mr President: Ok. Brief me on the way. (Winces in pain)

Aide 2: Are you ok sir?

Aide 1: Is it your condition acting up again sir?

Mr President: Which condition? It is you that has condition not me.

Aide 1: I am sorry sir.

Mr President: Sorry for yourself. 

Aide 2: You are fine daddy. You are perfect. You are holy...