Symbolism with Simbo Olorunfemi
Email: simboor@yahoo.com Twitter: @simboolorunfemi
“There is a natural mystic blowing through the air. If you listen carefully now, you will hear.” – Robert Nesta Marley
These must be desperate times in the camp of King Nebuchadnezzar. Rabble-rousers are thinking up plots to out-fox themselves in tomfoolery. Courtiers and jesters are jostling for attention, in a futile bid to yank the elusive rabbit out of the hat. Even as it has become obvious, even to the visually-impaired that the market is over for the season, the magicians insist on gathering a storm to impress a long-departed audience. They are determined to make a mockery of their principal, no matter what it takes. The rainmaker might be drenched in the rain he promised to hold back, but our friends insist the fault is not his, but ours. The tales are getting longer, but the wings to fly have long been clipped by years of cluelessness.
Is it not yet time for the rainmaker to swallow his saliva, make a canoe from his firewood and sail into the night on the wings of the torn umbrella? Or is it simply that they won’t let him go? Desperate men have gathered around the throne, insisting on the King dancing naked. The game-plan might be nebulous, even to those masquerading as well-wishers to the King, yet they insist the marketplace is the best arena for him to exhibit his birthday suit.
They have pushed him to the point of no return. One moment, he refers to his benefactor as a motor park tout. Soon after, he leads an entourage to the same man for his blessing. He goes to the hill-top mansion to adopt a father for the election. It takes only a few days for that father to annul the adoption and declare support for the opponent. They say his campaign will be about issues, reason for which they must have carefully selected men with issues as his groomsmen. No wonder, they are bent on making an issue of a no-issue. Today, they want to see the School Certificate. Tomorrow, it is the Medical Certificate. Today, they insist the General must jog around to prove he is in good health. Tomorrow, they might want to see evidence that the man truly sleeps. Is it any surprise that the Stomach Infrastructure Warlord has taken a cue from the Abuja gods, to serve a cold dish of death wish as a wrap-around? How convenient to disown the man and refer to him in the same breath as a respected leader of the party?
Is this what it is now all about? Does an incumbent run for re-election by running away from his own record? Is it that bad that the King is uncomfortable about making this a referendum on his performance in office? How is it that a campaign which took off more than a year before the official whistle sounded has found itself in a quandary, weeks to the election, unable to articulate any clear agenda? Minders are stuttering, huffing and puffing over nothing, bereft of ideas to place on the table.
The King is weary, as he fights on all fronts, too many flanks left wide open. Those around him have succeeded in manufacturing enemies of erstwhile friends for their Principal. The King has taken off the gloves, hitting hard at enemies – those who bought rifles for the military and those who did not. Who could have seen our good luck running out of patience and shadow-boxing in public? Is it that good luck has deserted, when most desired? Who could have foretold that the good luck of yesterday will fizzle out, just like that? Who could have seen some of those foot soldiers of yesterday running out of patience so soon, embracing change in place of transformation? Could it be that good luck has gone past its due date?
The camp of the King is rattled and panic is evident. In desperation, they are throwing at us all manner of Greek gifts, from the rooftop. Suddenly, one million pre-paid meters come from the camp of Nebo. A 10 Naira cut off the pump price of petrol comes. The Second Niger Bridge will be ready in 14 months. The Pilgrims Commission comes up with a youth pilgrimage programme. They have delayed the increase in PHCN tariff for six months. That on used cars has been pushed forward till after the February elections. Yet, they will have us believe these have nothing to do with the desperation to win elections.
Unfortunately, it seems it is too late in the day. The charm has run its course; people can now see the limitations in erecting a castle on the shaky foundation of good luck. The wall of religious and ethnic bigotry is crashing, just like in the days of Jericho. King Nebuchadnezzar is vulnerable, the robe of good luck torn.
The signs are there. But the hawks around, seem bent to dig in. They too have run out of patience with good luck. They are determined to poison the water. They are fighting dirty, in desperation to keep things going. But the tide is blowing in a different direction. Not even the hawks will be able to save the King, this time. It is time to accept that change is in the offing. When will someone whisper in the ears of the King that the people have run out of patience with good luck? It is too late in the night to enrol the King for lessons in acrobatics. Sunset beckons for King Nebuchadnezzar.
