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[OPINION]Farotimi: A Trial Of The Supreme Court

By Lasisi Olagunju
Adeola was a destitute woman with neither a surname nor a known relative who died at 1:15 p.m. on Friday, 29 June, 1888 at the Colonial Hospital in Lagos. She was buried at 4 p.m. the following day at Ereko Cemetery, Lagos. The manner of her death on Friday and burial on Saturday was to soon put the entire colonial establishment from Lagos to London on ‘trial’. A police officer had, some days earlier, found the woman “huddled up in an Ereko market shed, utterly helpless and in a ‘bad state of health.’”
Her story: She was just Adeola – no other name. She had no living person she could remember as a relation. About 30 years earlier (1858), she had been bought as a slave at Ikorodu market by a man from Beshe (Ibese?) who later converted her to a ‘wife.’ She had a child for the man but life soon happened to her in more devastating details. One after the other, the ‘husband’ died, the child died too. She became lonely and alone, ill and terribly diseased. Her case became like the sentry of Apomu who lost his divination nuts to thieves, had his wife snatched, and, in horror, watched his last item of survival taken by a bad dog that escaped and slipped into a deep well. “It is time to leave this town!” the man cried.
Utterly broken Adeola left Beshe for Lagos in search of hope and cure for everything that ailed her. She arrived in Lagos on 4 June, 1888. It was because she knew nobody and had no one in Lagos that she found ‘home’ in that market shed where the police officer found her. With that police officer, favour appeared to have found her as she was moved to the Colonial Hospital and was admitted as a patient. If she thought her prayer answered at that point she was wrong. Her story changed on 20 June, 1888 when the senior of the two Oyinbo doctors at the hospital wrote on her treatment sheet: DNI (Discharged, Not Improved). The doctor said she was an “incurable” and “no good could be done for her by treatment” and got her removed from the hospital. And “like a log of wood”, she was taken out of the facility on a stretcher taken far away from the hospital, and “pitched out of the stretcher” like dirt and left to die in the bush.
A man and his carpenter saw everything from the top of a house they were reroofing. They reported what they saw to the authorities who intervened and ordered the woman to return to the hospital by 5 p.m. the following day, 21 June. Adeola was reported dead on 29 June and buried by the evening of the following day. Then trouble started. The Lagos public got to know of everything that happened to the poor woman from the day she was first admitted to the hospital and the day she was reported dead and buried. It became a big human rights issue. Governor Moloney demanded explanations from the hospital and was not satisfied with what he was told. The matter went to a coroner who ordered the exhumation of the corpse. My historian wrote that “when the coffin was opened, the jury was struck by the observation that the body was found placed in a lateral decubitus. This was very unusual, and gave rise to the suspicion that the woman might have been encoffined before life petered out of her.” To be “encoffined before life petered out” of one is to be buried alive.
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The jury tried the case and indicted all the key hospital personnel involved, including the doctor who wrote DNI on her diet sheet. Then the coroner, friend and messmate of one of the doctors, stepped in and annulled the verdict of the jury and cleared all the indicted persons. That was done because the woman was a nobody who had nobody. Lagos as a city became enraged and a huge rally of 374 persons was held inside the Town Hall of Lagos on 9 July, 1888. It was from that meeting that the people of Lagos addressed an appeal petition to the Secretary of State for the Colonies in London who took over the case and ordered the governor of Lagos to implement the jury’s verdict and relieve the chief culprits of their duties. They were sacked. The pauper woman finally got justice. Her story is fully told in Adelola Adeloye’s ‘African Pioneers of Modern Medicine’ (1985); check page 60 through page 71. I got the story from that book; the various quotes I used are from its pages.
Scroll up again and read the Adeola case; the higher the appeal went, the better the reasoning, the surer the justice. Today, nothing in our courts is cast in law. The 1888 scandal happened well before Nigeria became a country. The Lagos public fought the injustice in Lagos for the nameless underdog. When Lagos compromised on truth and justice, the people took the case to London, fought and won in a very comprehensive way. The unfortunate woman in the story was the very definition of underdog. She had nothing; no full name; no address, no blood or bloodless relation. Everyone who fought for her did not know her from anywhere. She was a complete pauper with no material value to anyone. Yet, she got the people behind her and got justice. She was the underdog in the contest for space in the Colonial Hospital. She lost the battle of life but won the war of justice. She had her day, even after she died.
Americans have a day dedicated to almost everything. The third Friday in December of every year is their National Underdog Day. They’ve celebrated their underdog Fridays since 1976. The next one holds on 20 December, 2024. And, if you are a Nigerian, I am sure you’ve heard or come across ‘underdog’ more than once in the last one week. If you haven’t, it means you’ve not been following the war between Chief Afe Babalola, SAN and firebrand lawyer, Dele Farotimi. One, a senior advocate; the other, a subaltern in legal practice. Like in all contests, figures of speech have been flying like Saddam Hussein’s Scud missiles and George H. W. Bush’s Patriots. I heard the junior lawyer being called an underdog, the big man the top dog. I’ve also come across the expression: every underdog would have their day.
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Nigerians are bitterly divided between Chief Afe Babalola and Dele Farotimi. Each side thinks it is right. I read some comments and commentaries and shuddered. The extreme positions being taken and the measures being canvassed remind one of the contents of Edward P. Cheyney’s 1913 article on ‘The Court of Star Chamber’ of 17th century England: “The law-officers of the crown were especially inclined to prosecute offenders against the dignity of judges or other persons connected with the courts. An angry litigant who in 1602 attempted to stab a lawyer who had spoken against him was brought before Star Chamber and sentenced to have his ears cut off and to be imprisoned for life. One man had his ears nailed to the pillory at Westminster for traducing Lord Chief Justice Popham; another was sent to the pillory for saying Lord Dyer was a corrupt judge, another for writing a letter to Coke charging him with chicanery in practice, still others for writing a letter to the Mayor of Wallingford charging him with injustice, and for speaking disrespectfully to the Lord Mayor of London in the wrestling place at Clerkenwell…” The pillory in that piece was a wooden device for displaying and shaming convicts. It was known in Anglo-Saxon times as “catch-neck”, the French called it the pillorie. If you were sentenced to the pillory, your punishment included being abused by ecstatic members of the public and being pelted with filth, including rotten eggs. We’ve seen much of that in the last one week.
I have not read Farotimi’s book but I listened to some of his online appearances on this matter. His words are extreme just as the reaction of Afe Babalola to them. And, while I was wondering if a journalist like me should be read saying anything on this matter because it is already in court, subjudice, I watched Chief Babalola’s lawyers waiving aside that rule and addressing a press conference in Ado Ekiti on Friday. They took the top lawyer’s case before the court of public opinion. I am not blaming them; we live in a constantly changing world in which the Internet is the super jury. The landscape has changed forever. Babalola’s lawyers said Farotimi was angered because he lost his client’s case to their chief’s client before the Supreme Court in 2013. That was eleven years ago! Lawyers must have very long memories – like elephants – for them to have sustained a war this long.
And, it is from Chief Babalola’s case, as presented by his lawyers at the press conference, that I picked my item of interest – how the Supreme Court did this work and created this war. From what I read, it would appear that the Supreme Court was the edá rat that sparked the blaze which our firefighters are dealing with. “You will recall that 254 hectares (of land) were sold to the Gbadamosi Eletu family. However, instead of the 254 hectares, Honourable Justice Kumai Bayang Aka’ahs, JSC, who wrote the lead judgment, recorded 10 hectares in error,” Chief Babalola’s lawyer told the media. Now, listen. Nigeria’s topmost court wrote “ten hectares” when it should have written “254 hectares” and delivered it as its judgment in that contentious land case on 13 July, 2013. I read that and got confused. Figures 10 and 254 neither sound alike nor do they compare in values. So, where did the error come from? The Supreme Court is not a one-man tribunal. There were at least four other justices on that panel. Not one of them saw the mistake of their leading colleague; they all endorsed the error, lock, stock and barrel. The court later corrected this on 18 March, 2014 – that was eight months after the judgment. It blamed the discrepancy on what our law calls “clerical error.” Then this Farotimi-Babalola war started, assailing reputations and curtailing freedoms.
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We are ruling our world in manners that are at variance with how we met it. The British who created this country worked better in the administration of justice. I wrote earlier that in the Adeola scandal case above, the higher the appeal went, the better the reasoning, the surer the justice. Even in places where sharia ruled, the British encouraged discipline, diligence and competence. In Ilorin, an Alkali was dismissed in 1912 “because he could neither read nor write Arabic.” In the same Ilorin, the colonial government removed Chief Alkali Mallam Salihu sometime in the 1930s and replaced him with Mallam Muhammad Dan Begori (Belgore) because inquiry showed that he had been “extremely negligent in his supervision of the clerical work of his subordinates.” H. O. Danmole’s ‘The Alkali Court in Ilorin Emirate during Colonial Rule’ published in the Trans-African Journal of History (1989) contains those details, including the quotes.
Now, you would want to ask: The justices who professed the 10-hectare-for-254-hectare error at our Supreme Court in 2013, where are they today and what were the consequences of their mistake which now proves costlier than they could ever have imagined? The man who wrote the error retired in December 2019. How does he feel hearing all these about his error? The others who concurred with him, what do they feel? The Supreme Court itself, in the name of which those lords of the law acted, is it proud of what is happening? The criminal cases that branched out of their “clerical error” and filed last week, if they eventually go up to the Supreme Court, how is the court going to sit on them? The Body of Benchers, if a student of the Nigeria Law School wrote ten hectares where he was supposed to write 254 hectares, would they reward such a student with a call to the Nigerian Bar?
While I waste my time asking those questions, the battle between the forces of Chief Afe Babalola and those of Dele Farotimi rages on. And, it is not one between David and Goliath. No. Both are losing at the same time. They are both underdogs being tried in two parallel courts – one at the law court; the other at the court of public opinion. Unfortunately, both are not doing fine at all, but they are unyielding. I pity the two sides. They are pitched in a no-win duel while the rats who sparked the fight enjoy their suya, sip their coke, and pick their teeth. In the play, ‘Topdog/Underdog’ by American playwright, Suzan-Lori Parks, two brothers lose everything they fight over – woman, inheritance, everything. “Screaming in agony” is how a critic describes the cries of one while the other is too dead to hear his brother’s too-late regrets.
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198 UNIBEN Students Bag First Class

A total of 198 students of the University of Benin (UNIBEN ) Edo State, bagged a First Class degree out of 14,083 students to be awarded first degree at the institution’s 51st Convocation and Founder’s Day ceremony.
Vice Chancellor of UNIBEN, Prof. Edoba Omoregie, disclosed this on Monday in Benin at a pre-convocation press briefing.
He said 4,217 students bagged a Second Class Upper, 7, 928 got a Second Class Lower, while 578 bagged a Third Class degree.
Omoregie said the result was indicative of the seriousness of staff and students to ensure that the institution marched on with vigour.
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He said 15 new approved programmes by the National Universities Commission (NUC) would commence in the 2025/2026 academic session.
Prof. Omoregie said the Veterinary Medicine programme which earlier suffered an accreditation hiccup before he assumed office had been accredited by the NUC.
According to him, “The wheel of progress is on course and moving steadily in the University of Benin. This administration is poised to deliver on its mandate of effective, practical teaching, sound learning, result-oriented research and impactful community service.
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“We must applaud the President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, for establishing NELFUND, and by so doing significantly reducing the financial stress of students in the process of acquiring tertiary education. We enjoin students and their parents to take full advantage of the federal government’s benevolence in instituting the fund.”
Prof. Omoregie disclosed that Nigeria’s Minister of Regional Development, Engr. Abubakar Momoh, would deliver the Founders’ Day lecture with the topic, “Reforms for a Shared Prosperity”.
The UNIBEN VC said Director General of the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs and Former Vice Chancellor of Igbinedion University, Okada, Edo State, Professor Eghosa Osaghae, would deliver the Convocation Lecture on the theme, “Making Our Universities Great”.
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OPINION: Why My English Speaks Yoruba

By Lasisi Olagunju
“You taught me language, and my profit on it / Is, I know how to curse” (William Shakespeare: ‘The Tempest’).
The Nigerian government and the Nigerian Academy of Letters are fighting over which language to use in training our kids.
In a recent decision, the government cancelled the language policy which said the first six years of a child’s schooling should be delivered in the language of their local environment. The government probably felt that English is the language of our masters, its owner, so, it cancelled the extant policy rooted in the mother-tongue. It has ordered that henceforth English is the sole language of instruction at all levels of education in the country.
William Shakespeare’s fecundity sows seeds in all fields. He has this passage of lamentation in Richard II:
“The language I have learnt these forty years, /My native English, now I must forgo; /And now my tongue’s use is to me no more/ Than an unstringed viol or a harp, /Or like a cunning instrument cased up /Or, being open, put into his hands /That knows no touch to tune the harmony.”
Above, Shakespeare’s character mourns the loss of his voice, his expression, his linguistic identity. His lines embody a metaphor for linguistic helplessness, for mental dislocation, and forced silence. He says the language he mastered as a youth now lies useless; he laments that his tongue is now a useless instrument, an “unstringed viol or a harp” incapable of producing music.
With permission from Shakespeare, I donate that quote to the children of Nigeria. Their “tongue’s use is to (them) no more.” The Nigerian Academy of Letters (NAL) issued a warning last Friday about the dangers of reversing the language policy of Nigeria. The language policy, recalled the academy, was carefully designed “to promote mother-tongue-based multilingual education by ensuring that children received instruction in the language of their immediate environment during their first six years of schooling.”
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Grandfather of Linguistics, 96-year-old Noam Chomsky, in 2013 delivered a series of lectures on ‘What kind of creature are we?’ The first in the series he entitled ‘What is Language?’ To answer the question, he deploys words and clauses spread over 19 pages. I read him as he says that “language is not sound with meaning but meaning with sound.” More importantly, he draws our attention to the traditional conception of language as “an instrument of thought.” I flow with that.
How I think is how I write. Week after week here, I write what I think. Thinking in Yoruba and writing in English is a pleasant affliction that has been part of me since I learnt to put white chalk on black slate. There has never been a conflict; my early teachers taught me everything in the language I encountered at the dawn of my day. That is why my English speaks Yoruba with all its properties. I listen to it and I like the music – probably because it is my music.
If the government won’t do what is right, parents should brace up and save the future. Read Katherine Reid and her colleagues in their ‘Parents as the first teachers’ published in October 2025. They say “early lexical development predicts later vocabulary, critical literacy skills including reading comprehension and, in turn, academic success.” They add that “because parents are typically their children’s first teachers, some intentionally and actively teach their children new words, while others prefer to expose them to language through rich interactions with the world around them in their daily lives.”
In his ‘Language Learning’ published in February 1970, American philosopher of Language, Gilbert Harman, tells us that “the primary use of language is in thought. Knowing a language is being able to think in it.” Chomsky also writes on what he calls “the fundamental Cartesian insight that use of language has a creative character.” But, is it not true that you cannot innovate in a language you do not fully understand? Professor Babs Fafunwa, in his ‘History of Education in Nigeria’ (1974), says mother tongue is “the first language learnt in the home, the language of the child’s immediate environment, the language in which the child thinks and feels.” Before him and after him, there have been studies after studies which have found that “children who start learning in their mother tongue tend to perform better academically, even upon transitioning to another language later.” (Read ‘Language of Instruction Policy in Nigeria’ by Thelma Ebube Obiakor; read N. Hungi and F.W. Thuku’s ‘Differences in pupil achievement in Kenya: Implications for policy and practice’ (2010).
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The Nigerian Academy of Letters, in its complaint signed by its President, Professor Andrew Haruna, condemned the government’s decision on the language policy. According to the academy, dismissing the policy “so glibly, without due regard for expert knowledge and public opinion, is utterly scornful of Nigerians and does not speak well of the government’s respect for evidence-based policymaking.”
In February 1956, China tried doing almost the same thing our government has just done. China toyed with the idea of replacing its Chinese phono-semantic characters with a new thirty-letter Latin alphabet. Chinese nationalists bitterly denounced the initiative as “a declaration of war on China’s cultural heritage.” Read Tao-Tai Hsia’s ‘The Language Revolution in Communist China’ published in the Far Eastern Survey of October, 1956. The fact that the Chinese mandarin is still a language of symbols is proof that commonsense prevailed in 1956.
A child’s first language is the child’s life. When a child acquires the right language at the right age and stage, it develops cognitively well. That is what experts say. But it is not as if we fully obey what our policy says on the language of schooling. We mix, we switch and adapt and we are getting by. But to decree English, the language of our masters, as the sole vehicle of transport is to get the traveller stranded and marooned where footpaths of development meet.
In another piece today, I wrote about Dr Samuel Crowther’s Abeokuta contest of 1860. The man used science to defeat native doctors. The story has deeper implications than a fight over space, pots and plots. It is about props. In drama, prop is that ‘portable’ item which an actor interacts with. When a soldier holds a sword in a fight scene, he is holding a prop. The future belongs to those who master the right props, the real principles that frame the world. Crowther’s props were scientific instruments. His rivals’ props were charms. When Crowther’s controlled explosion roared, the self-proclaimed ‘medicine men’, adorned in costly garments and charms, fled in terror. In their terror and flight, we see loud display collapse before quiet science. The science and the drama and the resultant chaos demonstrate the superiority of calm knowledge over loud, ostentatious power. The moral is that knowledge-based education defeats performance-based traditions. The same principle underlies the National Language Policy: a child’s language of thought is their first prob in class; children must first understand in order to innovate.
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With their mother tongues, China and Korea have established themselves as tech world powers. Could they have done that if they flip-flopped as Nigeria has just done with its own policy? A post on the website of the Korean Academy describes the Korean language, Hangugeo, as “a symbol of identity and innovation.” Go beyond websites as I did. Read ‘A History of Korean Science and Technology’ by Jeon Sang-woon, Robert Carrubba, and Lee Sung Kyu. I read in that book of history more than snippets on the “Sciences of Earth and Fire”; more than the chapter that says “Chemistry began with the human manipulation of fire.” It is a history of a people who knew (and know) the place of appropriate language in education and innovation.
French chemical engineer and writer, François Le Lionnais, writes in the January 1969 issue of the journal, ‘Leonardo’ that science is an art. He argues that “there should be a discipline of the aesthetics of science.” At the core of that ‘art’ is language. The drama of 165 years ago in Abeokuta between a doctor fresh from medical training in London, and the native “physicians” who challenged him to a contest of powers, is far more than a colourful historical anecdote. It is a parable about the power of scientific knowledge, the courage of innovation, and how societies either rise by embracing modern learning or stagnate by resisting it.
I earlier spoke about props. Because China got its language policy and education right, its props today are semiconductors, satellites, and supercomputers. Korea’s props are robotics, AI, and global electronics. These countries are cool tech giants because they carefully built their futures by teaching their children in languages that let them internalise principles. We enjoy the products of their sanity and clear-mindedness. We ride their fuel-efficient cars and flaunt their sleek electronics. They built their tech steeze and sense by not climbing their palm trees from the top. They made their children understand the world in their own languages. They standardised their scientific lexicons, they enabled their generations to think, debate, and innovate in their native tongues. Only after then did they introduce English. Check Dali Yang (1990)’s “State and Technological Innovation in China: A Historical Overview, 1949-89”. Check others.
Nigeria, by returning to English-only instruction, is choosing the rustic path where science is mystery. And, you know, a 21st century society where science remains a mystery is a society stranded in yesterday. Without apology to Martin Esslin, author of ‘The Theatre of the Absurd’, his title will be apt as the name of that society.
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OPINION: Absurd Wars, Absurd Lords

By Lasisi Olagunju
“Don’t fight Man,” said Lion to his Cub, but the Cub didn’t listen. The Cub went looking for Man.
He saw a Bull. “Are you Man?”
“No, I bear Man’s yoke.”
Next he saw a Horse. “Are you Man?”
“No, Man rides me.”
Then he saw someone splitting logs with wedges: a Man!
“Fight me, Man!” said the Cub.
“I will! But first, help me split this log.”
When the Cub put his paws in the crack, Man knocked out the wedge, trapping the Cub’s paws.
The Cub finally pulled Man. loose and went home with bloody paws. Lesson learnt.
The author of that story is ancient storyteller, Aesop. He is believed to have lived in ancient Greece between 620 and 564 BCE. Thousands of years, yet his wisdom endures. American writer and writing instructor, Laura Gibbs, curates and retells the stories in uncountable numbers. If you like to fight, read the above story again. It is from Aesop via Gibbs.
When you saw ‘war’ in the headline above, you probably thought I was taking a long excursion into the latest theatre of the absurd: drama starring a minister and a soldier dragging an expensive land in Abuja. No.
There was a Yoruba musician called Ayinla Omowura. He was very popular and was rich and ‘powerful’. One day in May 1980, he drove his Mercedes Benz car to a beer parlour in Abeokuta in hot pursuit of his defected band manager. The jilted big man in a big car wanted back an old motorcycle from the ex-manager. There was a push, then a shove; and a fight. A tumbler, hurled in rage, struck the strongman on the head. The rich musician died in that barroom brawl and was buried that day; his place others took in music, in his hometown, and in his home.
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Big people take big risks. Sometimes they drag all of us into their trouble. Home and abroad, tired, retired, unretired, almost all Generals, Colonels, Majors, captains and sergeants and corporals lined up behind a ramrod naval Lieutenant. The drill was scary. Think about this: What do you think would have happened to our country if any of the key actors had suffered what Omowura suffered in that moment of anger and banger? And all because of land; earth which belongs to no one. Even Elephant knows that the earth only lends space to those who walk gently upon it. Fragile Chameleon is asked why he walks gingerly. He answers: “So that the ground will not cave in.”
There is another lesson in power and contest for space, this one pure, carefully recorded history:
One hundred and sixty five years ago, Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther’s son, Dr. Samuel Crowther Junior, had just returned to Abeokuta from medical school in London. Abeokuta’s native doctors who thought themselves ‘physicians’ were hostile to what he brought. They said no to him practising his alien art in their sphere of influence. There was a face-off, followed by a standoff. They said their power was mightier than the power of the foreign medicine man. When iron strikes iron, one must bend. A contest of powers was agreed upon between the two sides.
Details of that war of ‘medicine’ is told by an eyewitness, Robert Campbell, in his ‘A Pilgrimage to My Motherland’ (1861); the story was reproduced a hundred years later by A. H. M. Kirk-Greene in his ‘America in the Niger Valley: A Colonization Centenary’. So, how did the battle go? Listen to Campbell:
“Time was given for preparation on both sides. In the afternoon, the regulars appeared, clothed in their most costly garments, and well provided with orishas or charms attached to all of their persons and dress. In the meantime Mr. Crowther had also prepared to receive them. A table was placed in the middle of the room, and on it a dish in which were a few drops of sulphuric acid, so placed that a slight motion of the table would cause it to flow into a mixture of chlorate of potassa and white sugar. A clock was also in the room, from which a small bird issued every hour, and announced the time by cooing. This was arranged so as to coo while they were present.
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“Mr. Crowther then made a brief harangue, and requested them to say who would lead off in the contest. This privilege they accorded to him. The door was closed, the curtains drawn down. All waited in breathless expectation. Presently the bird (in the clock) came out, and to their astonishment cooed twelve times, and suddenly from the midst of the dish burst forth flame and a terrible explosion. The scene that followed was indescribable: one fellow rushed through the window and scampered; another in his consternation took refuge in the bedroom, under the bed, from which he was with difficulty afterwards removed.”
I took the script of that 1860 ‘drama’ to my friend, the scientist. The clock, the cock and the chemistry cocktail. What really happened? My friend said a people that cannot grasp scientific concepts becomes vulnerable to fear and superstition. Dr. Crowther simply staged a drama, essentially a controlled chemical explosion: sulphuric acid (dehydrator and acid catalyst); sugar (fuel), and potassium chlorate (oxidizer). From my friend I learnt that “the mixture reacts violently when combined, producing flame, smoke, and noise.”
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Crowther did not shout, boast, or brandish charms and amulets; there was no incantation. No abuse. No insults. He simply applied science; chemistry: sulphuric acid, sugar, and potassium chlorate; an elegant, potent sequence of oxidiser, fuel, and catalyst. With a clock-bird timed to coo and trigger panic, and with a well-placed chemical reaction prepared to ignite and explode, the young doctor used knowledge (not noise) to demonstrate and assert superiority.
Curses, threats and abuse are pollutants. We had more than enough last week. But enough has been said already about the Abuja land war since it unfolded last week. The raw lesson there is that real, unleavened authority easily defeats loud, raw hubris.
Central to the Abuja land drama of last week is anger and the use of language. It may be too late to bend our dry fishes. But, how do we avoid it in the next set of leaders? I end with this 170-year-old quote:
“Do all in your power to teach your children self-government. If a child is passionate, teach him by gentle and patient means to curb his temper. If he is greedy, cultivate liberality in him.
If he is selfish, promote generosity.
If he is sulky, charm him out of it,
by encouraging frank good humor…”(‘How to teach Children’ published in ‘The R. I. Schoolmaster’, Vol. 1, No. 5 JULY, 1855).
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