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OPINION: Pastor Adeboye, Owners Of Nigeria And 2025 [Monday Lines]

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By Lasisi Olagunju

If the elites of the North will not ‘give’ President Bola Tinubu a second term, who told them that the South will give power back to them in 2027? Leper losing his needle presents peculiar problems. It is not two years since power changed hands in Nigeria but the jungle is already rumbling.

Mordant cries about French bases, about federal appointments lacking symmetry, about dirty gutters and stinking swamps are all familiar tricks of snatching the forest from the current champion. The roars of ‘fairness’ are not about ‘justice’ and the people and the challenges they face. They are not about terror and error bombs; not about cheap deaths, hunger and joblessness. The goal is power with all the privileges it gives the privileged.

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But we are what Cecil Helman’s ‘Parables’ says we are: fragments under the feet of fate. Nobody, and no body, neither north nor south, owns this land. The one who created power possesses it – and that is the Creator. But, some think Nigeria and all of us can be knitted into anything that suits their fingers –all because of greed of unearned grandeur. They should look keenly at coconut: it rests on its side despite having a bottom. Why?

Those who think power is their own exclusive possession and think life cannot be lived well outside power should listen to the following parables and the story that follow them:

Long, long ago, at the beginning of time in Ile Ife, there was a very poor man who had only one he-goat as his only means of living. He-goat is called itú in Yoruba. This poor man got his daily meal through the she-goats his itú mated with. One day, he discovered to his sorrow that the goat was missing. It was stolen.

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The man searched and searched for his goat without success. The more he searched, the sadder he became because he suspected that his pricey goat may have become food in some thieving tummies. He kept searching. Then, one day, he met an old man who asked what his problem was. He told him.

The old man gave the poor man a warning that he must stop the search. Itú (he – goat) rẹ̀ sọnù, ṣùgbọ́n wọ́n kìí nílọ̀ pé kò gbọ́dọ̀ wá a. “So what do I do? I will die of hunger without that goat!” The distraught told the old man who simply gave him a metal gong – agogo ọ̀ràn – (gong of trouble) is what the old man called it.

The poor man was told to beat that gong in front of the houses of all principal kings of Yorubaland. The man set out. He went to ilé Alárá, he went to Ajerò; he was at the palace of Òràngún; he was at the Ààfin in Oyo. He went to all the 16 principal kings, the Ọlọ́jà mẹ́rẹ̀ẹ̀rindínlógún. But they all prevented him from beating the gong in front of their houses. They pleaded with him to go away with his Agogo ọ̀ràn. They offered him money, much money, and more money. The man became rich, very rich like any of the principal men of power. His status changed. He is not king but he was big enough to dine with kings. He thanked his Eleda (his Maker) for sending a worthy angel to him in the image of the old man. He also thanked his orí (his inner self) for not making of him a man who would ignore the wisdom of elders.

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Now, the men of power could ignore the poor man or get him arrested. They could even kill him for his audacity. If they killed him, who would query them? But they understood the man to be a victim of state failure; they clothed him with remedial gestures.

MORE FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: ‘An Enemy Of The People’ [Monday Lines]

The poor man too could ignore the old man and his counsel and remain searching for what is lost – forever. God closed his goaty door of poverty, he did not insist on opening it. Nobody owns anything; not goat; not power. The one who does not say the elder parades a smelly mouth is the one who conquers life and its difficulties. The next parable tells more of power and its powerlessness.

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Pastor Enoch Adejare Adeboye is a very deep, wise man. Recently, he gave the Soun of Ogbomoso an invaluable gift in folktale wrappers. The audio is online, viral. I did the transcription and translation:

Several years ago. There was an incident in a town called Ejigbo. It was noticed that the kings there died as soon as they ascended the throne. Then, it was the turn of a young man to be king.

His case was a very precarious one. If he became king, he would die. If he refused to be king, it would be the end of his royal lineage in that town because he was the very last prince there alive.

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One day, the young prince was going to the farm in great sorrow. Then, he bumped into an old man because he was troubled. He begged the old man for forgiveness.

“Omo aládé, kí ló dé? (Prince, what is the problem?” The old man asked him.

He told the old man his problem.

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“It is my turn to be king, but I don’t want to die.”

The old man listened to him; then told him it was a simple thing. On the day of your enthronement, tell your drummers not to repeat the beat they beat for your predecessors. They should change it. The old man told the prince what his beat should say. Between them, it was a secret.

The D-Day came. He became king. It was time for celebrations. The king came out to dance round the town. The witches of the town, devourers of the earlier kings, assembled as usual under their tree, waiting for the drumbeat.

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The old beat was:

Eléjìgbò l’ó l’Èjìgbò;

Èmi nÌkan ni mo l’Èjìgbò.

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(Eléjìgbò, the king, owns Ejigbo

I alone own Èjìgbò).

But by the time the drummers of the new king started beating the drum for him, they came with a new beat:

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Eléjìgbò l’ó l’Èjìgbò;

T’èmi tì’e l’a l’Èjìgbò.

Eléjìgbò l’ó l’Èjìgbò;

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Gbogbo wa l’a l’Èjìgbò.

(Eléjìgbò owns Èjìgbò;

You and I own Èjìgbò.

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Eléjìgbò owns Èjìgbò;

We all own Èjìgbò).

The witches exchanged glances. “This is strange! Who gave this young man this wisdom?” That was how the young king danced round the town. He was king and he was on the throne for a very long time. Q.E.D.

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MORE FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: Tinubu, Atiku And The Lion’s Share [Monday Lines 2]:

Great words of counsel are like rains; when they are released; they fall on more than one roof. Those nuggets from Pastor Adeboye should benefit more than the oba to whom they were directed. I take them as a sermon for all who think or take themselves to be owners of Nigeria. The words are for regions and religions; kings, principalities and presidents, and all conceited people who think the throne is for their whims to give and withdraw. I hope they know that half words are enough said to the well-bred.

Two days to the new year, I have one more word from our elders. It is a story of power and its implications.

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The sermon is from Hubert Ogunde’s 1945 play ‘Strike and Hunger’, a drama about resistance, justice, moderation and empathy in leadership. Truth, in whatever form it is couched, is bitter. Nigeria happened to Ogunde for daring to write and stage that play. He told the story several times, and each time you heard or read him, you knew that the rain of Nigeria did not start beating fairness yesterday – it started a long time ago. Ogunde recalled that experience: “After the general strike of 1945, I staged a play ‘Strike and Hunger’ which became a hit with the indigenous population while the colonial masters thought the play was inciting the people to riot. When I took the play to the Northern Region in 1946, I was arrested and prosecuted in Jos. The £200 fine imposed on me was paid by the Yoruba community in Jos, but my troupe was banned from performing in the North.” That story told by Ogunde to a news magazine in 1973 was reproduced by Bernth Lindfors, then of the University of Texas, Austin, in his ‘Ogunde on Ogunde’, published in May 1976.

Between 1944 and 1989, Hubert Ogunde wrote and staged 56 plays. I counted them and clicked those with links on ogunde museum.org. ‘Strike and Hunger’ is number nine on the list there. I transcribed and translated the lyrics and present a summary of the plot here:

‘Strike and Hunger’ starts with the king of this town, Oba Yejide, in full bloom. He receives his people’s acclamation: “Elephant who owns the forest; Buffalo that owns the savannah.” He is Oba Yejide, the king whose possessions are the sea and its rising and falling tides.

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The king replies his people’s love with lines of arrogance: “I, Yejide, great king. I snatch others’ houses and make them mine; I take others’ homes and become fat by them.” Despite all these, the king still does good; he commands respect and loyalty in all circles of the town. His people need jobs, he gives them government work to do. They sing, they dance and “rejoice in their one kobo per day job.”

Then change happens to them and the town. Inflation hits the roof; their kobo per day loses its vaiue. The people approach the Oba for help. Oba Yejide’s response to the food inflation is to establish a food market in the palace. The people are happy again. They think the market will offer goods for buyers, food for the hungry. They declare that their king owns the world; they say everyone must obey him; they sing his praise. They warn dog not to dare their leopard so that it will not wear gowns of blood.

Things soon get bad again. Hunger seizes the land. The king’s food market gets a new name. Thoroughly disappointed townspeople call it “Ojà ebi” (hunger market). The people work harder but their salaries remain the same while prices at the hunger market keep rising daily. Buyers who complain of the daily rise in the price of food items receive lashes, some get wounded. Complaint is disloyalty. Anyone who says the king is failing is made to eat his pounded yam as yam. The people turn their hunger into bursts of oxymoron: “hunger is satiation/ the world is changing.”

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Workers are downcast; Oba Yejide’s minimum wage is maximum cage. The people are trapped in his fiefdom and they complain. They are hungry; they shout the needs you shout today. Ogunde says the people sing in sorrow: “Ebi ńpa wá o, ará mi (We are hungry, my people).” Workers down tools. They continue their song of depression: “Kí l’a ó fi kóbò ojúmó se (what shall we do with a daily wage of one kobo?)”

The king ignores them; he says the people should go and manage. The people are sad and angry; they won’t stop singing songs of defiance and lamentation, and subversion: “Workers do not have money to feed/ We have no cloth, we have no dress/ we move about stark naked like monkeys/ Yet, Oba Yejide feeds well; Yejide drinks/ He forgets the day of reckoning…(Àwa òsìsé kò r’ówó jeun/Béè l’aò l’áso, béè l’aò l’éwù/ Ìhòhò l’awá ńrìn bí òbo/Oba Yéjídé ńje; Yéjídé ńmu/ Kò rántí p’ójó èsan ńbò…). .”

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They sing frustration and helplessness. They say “a worker who wakes up into hunger and wears rags lives a hollow life/ The dead are better than such a person (lásánlásán l’óńbe l’áyé/ eni t’ókú sàn jùú lo).” Oba Yejide’s reign suffers strikes and protests. He is called “Oba elébi” (king of hunger). But he does not care.

The song on the street is:

The king’s men eat and drink to satiation,

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The king’s chiefs eat and are happy,

They are happy and they dance.

Workers are dying the death of hunger,

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Husband and wife feed on miserable grains.

God, Almighty,

Please come and deliver us from those who hate us but commiserate with us…

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(Asojú oba ńje, wón ńje,

Wón ńje, wón mu;

Ìjòyè oba ńyó wón ńyò,

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Wón ńyò sèsè;

Àwon òsìsé ńkú ikú ebi,

T’okot’aya ńje jéró;

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Èdùmàrè yé o, ó d’owó Re,

A-wí-má-ye-hùn,

K’ó gbà wá l’ówó àwon

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Abínú eni tí ńbá ni dárò…).

Still, the oba won’t lift their burden. He won’t bend and the people won’t stoop. Face-off is what the white man calls it. The town doubles down and sings to Oba Yejide who thinks the world is his property:

Oba tó s’abúlé di’gbó,

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Oba tó s’abúlé d’ilè,

Aráíyé kò ní gbàgbé rè

Oba elébi…

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(The Oba who turns the village to bush,

The king who turns the village to rubble,

The world will not forget you,

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King of hunger…).

That is my 2024 review of Ogunde’s ‘Strike and Hunger’. It ends with the oba eventually dropping his arrogance and making amends. The palace moves the minimum wage from one kobo to ten shillings per day; the king orders the hunger market closed. Old markets reopen. There is enough for every buyer to buy; enough for all mouths to feed. Everyone is happy, the town becomes peaceful once again and the song transits to that of praise and freedom.

Those are my stories. The lesson from all the elders is that the world is the sea and the people in it the lagoon; no master-swimmer swims them successfully. Let all powers and power blocs do good and take things easy. Nigeria is not a possession of any region or religion; president or potentate. It belongs not to the angry elites of the North plotting day and night against Tinubu and the South; and it is certainly not the property of Tinubu, today’s viceroy.

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We pray for peace and joy and victory in 2025. May God say amen to our positive prayers.

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JUST IN: Okpehbolo Appoints New VC For AAU

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Edo State governor, Monday Okpehbolo, has approved the appointment of Professor (Mrs.) Eunice Eboserehimen Omonzejie as the new Vice-Chancellor of the state-owned Ambrose Alli University (AAU), Ekpoma.

A statement issued late night by Secretary to the State Government, Umar Musa Ikhilor, said her appointment takes immediate effect.

According to the statement, Prof. Omonzejie was appointed amongst the three names submitted by the Governing Council of the university to the state government.

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READ ALSO: Okpebholo Approves Construction Of 500-room Hostel For AAU

The statement partly reads, “Professor (Mrs.) Eunice Eboserehimen Omonzejie
Professor Omonzejie is a distinguished scholar of French and Francophone African Literatures and a long-serving academic in the Department of Modern Languages at Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma.

“She is a prolific researcher and editor, with contributions to African and Francophone literary studies, gender studies, and cultural studies.

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“She has served as the President of the Ambrose Alli University Chapter of the National Association of Women Academics (NAWACS), where she has championed mentoring, research, and advocacy for female academics and students.

“Professor Omonzejie has co-edited several seminal works including French Language in Nigeria: Essays in Honour of UFTAN Pacesetters and Language Matters in Contemporary West Africa, and is the author of Women Novelists in Francophone Black Africa: Views, Reviews and Interviews,” the statement added.

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OPINION: Every democracy ‘Murders Itself’

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By Lasisi Olagunju

In ‘Jokes and Targets’ by Christie Davies, a Soviet journalist interviews a Chukchi man:

“Could you tell us briefly how you lived before the October revolution?”

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“Hungry and cold.”

“How do you live now?”

“Hungry, cold, and with a feeling of deep gratitude.”

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This sounds like Nigeria’s malaria victims thanking mosquitoes for their love and care. Between democracy and its opposite, reality has blurred the lines.

Last week, a group of White House pool reporters travelled with President Donald Trump on Air Force One as he returned from his U.K. state visit. At the beginning of the journey, actor Trump sauntered into the rear section of the plane, the traditional part for the press. He granted an interview and ended it with a morbid wish: “Fly safely. You know why I say that? Because I’m on the flight. I want to get home. Otherwise I wouldn’t care.”

Ten years ago, if a US president said what Trump told those poor reporters, his presidency would suffer immediate cardiac arrest. But this is Colin Crouch’s post-democracy era: the leader, whether in the US or in Nigeria, in Africa or elsewhere, is the law; whatever he does or says, we bow in gratitude.

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I live in a Nigeria of gratitude and surrender. In the North-West and the North-East, traumatised communities are grateful to bandits and their enablers. They invite them to the negotiation table and thank the murderous gunmen for honouring the invitation. A grateful nation anoints and weeps at the feet of terrorists. In emergency-weaned Rivers State, its remorseful governor is effusive in appreciation of a second chance. The reinstated is ever thankful for the favours of a six-month suspension. From the North to the South, on bad roads and in death-wracked hospital wards, sonorous hymns of appreciation for big mercies ooze. The legislature and the judiciary, even the fourth estate, are all in congregation, singing songs of praise of the benevolent executive. Is this still a democracy?

American political scientists, Suzanne Mettler and Robert C. Lieberman in 2020 wrote ‘The Fragile Republic’ for The Foreign Affairs. In that essay, they list four symptoms of democratic backsliding. Prime among the four are economic inequality and excessive executive power. “Excessive executive power” is a three-word synonym for autocratization of democracy. It is a by-word for a democracy hanging itself.

The second president of the United States of America, John Adams, saw today; he warned of democracy decaying and dying: “Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.” Adams was not alone. There was also William Blake, 18th/19th century English poet, who said “if men were wise, the most arbitrary princes could not hurt them. If they are not wise, the freest government is compelled to be a tyranny.” This reads like it was written today and here. If you disagree, I ask: Is it wise (and normal) for the tormented to thank the tormentor?

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Listening to what Trump wished the reporters, we could see that big brother America now leads in democratic ‘erantship’, the Third World merely follows. An enormous country, strong enough to appropriate the name of an entire continent, America, in 2025, is blessed with a strongman that is armed with a licence to rule as it pleases his whim; a president who does what he likes and says what he likes or ‘jokes’ about it without consequences. The result is an imperial presidency that has redefined democracy across the world.

We say here that the yam of the one who is vigilant never gets burnt. The American system used to be very resilient in providing a leash on presidential excesses. It still does, although under a very difficult situation. Donald Trump, in his first term between 2017 and 2021, signed 220 Executive Orders. In his ongoing second term that began in January 2025, he has, as of September 18, 2025, already signed 204 Executive Orders upturning this balance, rupturing that tendon. An American friend told me that he could no longer recognise his country. But the good news is that those who should talk and act are not surrendering their country to Trump and his faction of the populace. Because it is America (and not Nigeria), there are over 300 lawsuits challenging Trump’s executive orders or policies in his second term.

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The active legal challenges view the Trump orders either as unconstitutional, exceeding statutory power, or violating rights. And the courts are also doing their job as they should. A 2025 study found some 150 judicial decisions concerning these orders. Some are preliminary injunctions, others are full rulings. President Bola Tinubu last week acknowledged the existence of “over 40 cases in the courts in Abuja, Port Harcourt, and Yenagoa, to invalidate” his Rivers State emergency order. Our courts, especially the Supreme Court, are yet to acknowledge any of the cases with trials, rulings and orders.

It is easy for presidents with unrestrained executive powers to assume imperial airs. In the past, when they did, they feared losing their link with the people and a fall from power. Today, they are on very solid ground, no matter what they do with their people. Midway into his term as US president, an increasingly unpopular Jimmy Carter reassessed himself, and in lamentation told Washington Post’s David Broder that he (Carter) had “fallen into the trap of being ‘head of the government’ rather than ‘leader of the people.’” Today is not that yesterday of sin and punishment. We have surrendered to the point of giving ourselves away. Today’s leaders know that what they need is the government, its power and privileges, certainly not the people. And they keep working hard at it such that America has Trump, and is not the only country that has a Trump. There are Trumps everywhere. We have them in Africa, from the north to the coast.

What democracy suffers in America it suffers more in Africa. Former President Goodluck Jonathan said at the weekend that “democracy in the African continent is going through a period of strain and risk of collapse unless stakeholders come together to rethink and reform it.” He said politicians manipulate the electoral system to perpetuate themselves in office even when the people don’t want them. “Our people want to enjoy their freedom. They want their votes to count during elections. They want equitable representation and inclusivity. They want good education. Our people want security. They want access to good healthcare. They want jobs. They want dignity. When leaders fail to meet these basic needs, the people become disillusioned.” That is from Jonathan who was our president for six years. Did he say these new things because he wants to come back?

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Democracy is like water; a wrong dose turns it to poison. If disillusionment has a home, it is in Africa. It is the reason why the youths of the continent are bailing out for succour, and the reason for Trump’s $100,000 fee on work visas.

In The North American Review of November 1910, Samuel J. Kornhauser reproduced a quotation that contains warnings of what threat a people could constitute to their own freedom: “The same tendencies to wanton abuse of power which exist in a despot or a ruling oligarchy may be expected in a democracy from the ruling majority, because they are tendencies incidental to human nature.” The solution was “a free people setting limitations upon the exercise of their own will” so that they would not “turn democracy into a curse instead of a blessing.”

MORE FROM THE THE AUTHOR:OPINION: HID Awolowo And The Yoruba Woman

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In his 1904 essay, ‘The Relation of the Executive to the Legislative Power’, James T. Young, observed a dramatic shift in American governance: while Woodrow Wilson had earlier warned of “Congressional supremacy,” Young argued that “we now live under a system of executive supremacy,” showing how the traditional checks and balances had failed to maintain equilibrium among the branches. That was in 1904, a hundred and twenty one years ago.

Someone said a leader’s ability to lead a society successfully is dependent on their capacity to govern themselves. It is that self-governing capacity that is lacking in our power circles. Plus the leaders don’t think they owe history anything. “From the errors of others, a wise man corrects himself…The wise man sees in the misfortune of others what he should avoid.” Publilius Syrus (85–43 BC), the Roman writer credited with uttering those nuggets, was a master of proverbs and apophthegm. We don’t listen to such words; we don’t mind being tripped by the same stone, and it does not matter falling into the same pit.

A democracy can enthrone emperors and kings but it is not that easy to ask them to dismount the high horse of the state without huge costs. We elect leaders and for unsalutory reasons, we let them roam freely with our lives, our safety and our comfort. We promote and defend them with our freedom. I hope we know the full import (and consequences) of the seed we are planting today. A Pharaoh will come who won’t remember that there was ever a Joseph.

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A Roman emperor called Caligula reigned from 16 March, 37 AD until he was put to sleep on 24 January, 41 AD. ‘Caligula’ was not the name his parents gave him; it was an alias, “a joke of the troops” which trumped his real identity: He was named after popular Julius Caesar.

Roman historian, Claudius Suetonius, records in his ‘The Lives of the Caesars’ that Caligula became emperor after his father’s death and then “full and absolute power was at once put into his hands by the unanimous consent of the senate and of the mob, which forced its way into the House.” The new leader came popular with a lot of the people’s hope invested in him. Suetonius says the young man “assumed various surnames (for he was called ‘Pious,’ ‘Child of the Camp,’ ‘Father of the Armies,’ and ‘Greatest and Best of Caesars’). Soon the fawning appellations entered his head and he became the opposite of what his people wanted in their leader. One day, Emperor Caligula chanced “to overhear some kings who had come to Rome to pay their respects to him” doing what Yoruba kings love doing: He found them arguing at dinner about whose throne, among them, was the greatest and the highest in nobility. The emperor heard them and cried: “Let there be one Lord, one King.” He called them to order and from that point, it was clear to everyone that republican Rome now had one Lord, one king, and that was Caligula.

The man said and did things that frightened even the heartless. At a point during his reign, Caligula saw a mass of Roman people, the rabble, applauding some nobles whom he detested. He voiced his hatred for what the people did and said what he thought should be their punishment: “I wish the Roman people had but a single neck so I could cut it through at one blow.” That statement became a quote which has, through centuries, defined his place in history.
It would appear that 79-year old Donald Trump defined himself for history last week with his “fly safely…because I’m on the flight” statement. A leader, a father and grandfather said he did not care if a plane-load of young men and women perished (without him) in a crash. And he told them so.

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A Twi proverb suggests that “the chief feels the heat only when his own roof is on fire.” Trump’s unfortunate remark is said to be a joke. Even as a joke, what the US president said sits in a long tradition of expensive jokes. Trump’s cruel ‘jest’ couldn’t be funny to any people even if they were under the spell of the leader. History and literature are full of such costly quips that come light from the tongue but which reveal something raw about power and rulers: power does not agree that all human beings possess equal worth, equal dignity, and equal rights. Power talks, and whenever it talks, it sets itself apart.
King Louis XV of France is remembered for uttering the line: “Après moi, le déluge (After me, the flood).” Some commentators say it was a joke, some others say it was a shrug. History interpreted what Louis XV said as the king not caring a hoot whatever might happen to France after he was gone. That statement is a sound bite that has clung to him forever as Abraham Lincoln’s mother’s prayer clung to her son.

When Louis XV said it, no one saw what the king said as a prophecy, grim and ghastly. I am not sure he also knew the full import of what he said. But it was prescient; fifteen years after his reign, the “flood” came furious with the 1789 revolution culminating in the effective abolition of the French monarchy by the proclamation of the First Republic on September 21, 1792.

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Emperor Nero of Rome is remembered forever for playing the fiddle while Rome was burning. In William Shakespeare’s Henry VI, we read a verse that ends with “Nero, Play(ing) on the lute, beholding the towns burn.” What is remembered of Nero is the image of a leader who ‘enjoyed the life of his head’ while his empire got destroyed by fire set at it by the enemy. But did the emperor really do that? Read this from the Encyclopaedia Britannica: “So, did Nero fiddle while Rome burned? No. Sort of. Maybe. More likely, he strummed a proto-guitar while dreaming of the new city that he hoped would arise in the fire’s ashes. That isn’t quite the same thing as doing nothing, but it isn’t the sort of decisive leadership one might hope for either.”

I have roamed from imperial Rome to medieval France, to democratic America and its Nigerian side-kick. What is next here is to go back, and salute John Adams with this his dispraise of democracy: “It is in vain to say that democracy is less vain, less proud, less selfish, less ambitious, or less avaricious than aristocracy or monarchy.” A system or a country becomes a joke when its leaders toy with its destiny; when they make light of the fears of their people.

The Akan of Ghana warn that if you sit on comfortable rotten wood to eat pawpaw, your bottom gets wet and your mouth also gets wet. This is to say that there are consequences for choices made. A kabiyesi democracy is an autocratic monarchy. And what does that feel like? I read of a king who joked to his courtiers during famine: “Hunger has no teeth sharp enough to bite me in my palace.” It was a careless statement of a monarchy that has found its way into the mouth of our democracy. I saw it where I read it that the ‘joke’ “was remembered bitterly by the starving commoners who later sang satirical songs about the unfeeling king.” Some jokes outlive their laughter.

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NiMet Predicts Three-day Rain, Thunderstorms From Monday

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