Most times, all one can see is a country on the brink of collapse, a failed or failing state. To most of us, what remains of this entity called Nigeria is some dying being on life support machine, waiting to draw its last breath. Nigeria is gasping, struggling and may not make it beyond next year or at most 2015. Swear if that last sentence has not crossed your mind in the last one week.
It crosses my mind every day. Sometimes I even see vultures hovering in the sky waiting to swoop on the corpse of this once great country. You can’t blame me if I feel like giving up once in a while. I pride myself on being an incurable optimist when it comes to this country of mine. But right now, I am afraid for its future. This great, or is it once great, country is unraveling before our very eyes because its rulers are preoccupied with a goddamn itch instead of focusing on the leprosy eating away its toes and fingers. That is why I am publishing this letter of complaint which original copy is with my divorce lawyer. I love Nigeria with all my heart but the country does not love me like I do.
It strays into the arms of too many concubines too many times. If he is not romancing bribery and illegalities, it is drunk with foolhardiness. His vices are so many and they keep increasing. I have reported Nigeria to many pastors. I have asked many muslim clerics to give me spiritual water to cook and bathe for him. Dibias and Babalawos have carried sacrifices to hills and road junctions, all to no avail. The demons tormenting my country are so many. I feel like packing up this romance. But where will I go? I love Nigeria so much. Other nations have winked at me.
I have even allowed them to woo me, take me to lunch (never dinner o) in moments of frustration but there is none who can make me feel wanted, comfortable like Nigeria. He takes time off his demonic ways once in a while to buy me flowers and perfumes. He showers me with gifts, yes, I must admit that. But I must also place it on record that those gifts are far below what I deserve and what Nigeria can afford. But his concubines take his time, sometimes his energy.
He comes to me when I need him, empty and tired. He makes excuses when he should be home with me. He spends everything that is naturally and legally mine on concubines. I weep into my pillows. I threaten him with bodily harm. I have threatened him I will leave him and take the children. He begs all night but as soon as the day breaks, he returns to his bottle of foolhardy brandy and into the arms of his latest mistress. He is addicted to everything mean and evil. But I love him. I feel in the depth of my soul that I will be lost without him. He knows his powers over me, I know. Wait, is that why he is taking advantage of me? Is that why he keeps this evil harem of distractions? Does he think buying me the latest Toyota Prado and custom-made Rolls Royce will pacify me?
Will somebody tell him that I know that he bought two private jets for his demonic distractions last month? Yes, the sapphire ring and diamond set are exquisite but he just bought a house in Monaco for another distraction. How foolish does he think I am? That I have not left him is not because other nations don’t find me attractive. I also have a long line of sweet suitors outside my door. All of them are promising me heaven on earth. Nigeria has pushed me to the wall. I am at a breaking point. Maybe I have let him get away with too many sins. He is now a chartered sinner and I am simply, totally fed up. Let me also confess, I have briefed a divorce lawyer. I want to try one of my suitors. I am keeping his identity because I have discovered new mean streaks in this love of my life.
He overheard one of my conversations with my lawyer and had one of his goons trail me to the man’s office. Now he watches all my movements. He has increased the number of guards and details in my convoy. My cars are bugged. All my mobile phones too. I will not be surprised if there are bugs hidden in my shoes and dainty slippers. Over and above all Nigeria’s meanness and demonic ways, he now sleeps with a special gun called Boko Haram under his pillows. Every night. Can you beat that? He is planning to kill me in my sleep, don’t you think? Well, I am sure in his drunken stupor, one day, that gun will go off and plaster his brains on the ceiling. He will ruin the POP and the silk Arabian custom-made bed sheets. Mean idiot. I am getting angry now. But I must rewind a bit to how we got to that part and portion where Boko Haram gun now has a place under Nigeria’s pillow.
Though I have resigned myself to his roving eyes and hands. How many times have I caught him in bed with his distractions? Innumerable, I swear. He has even given me a few unprintable ‘ailments’. But when he came home one day, after five weeks away from home, and announced he was taking Corruption as a second wife, I flipped my lid. What effrontery, temerity and audacity? Who did he think he was? Did he think he was so handsome and wealthy that I cannot leave him or replace him? Did anybody tell him I had become bad market or ‘unsold’ or factory reject?
I screamed, held him by his designer shirtfront. I threw the stupid designer perfume bottle against the wall and yet another diamond set in the trash. I was mad, even he cowered. He had never seen me like that. Marry Corruption and bring her into my home? Osanobua! Corruption that cannot stay with one man. Corruption that is everybody’s mistress. How low can Nigeria descend? But with him, I guess there will always be a new low, every time the demons decide to have a ball in his head. Oh, I am so angry, so frustrated. And he knows it and that is why he now romances Boko Haram. But I still love him. I can only hope that this love will not destroy me.
At our wedding on January 1, 1914, Lord Lugard said our union ‘ is the product of a long and mature consideration.’ I believed him then but now I am not so sure. This man no longer loves me and I have reached the end of my tether. There is just so much one woman can take, especially from a stubborn philanderer like Nigeria. This union is still being held together by our children; Natural Resources, Resilience and Vibrant Population. But I will not let him take Corruption as a second wife. No, I won’t.
From my mail box
That was very beautiful, in fact it made me realise so many beautiful and positive sides of pregnancy. Thank you very much. It was well said and straight to the point. Well done and keep doing a great job!
Ah! You almost had me wishing to be a woman. Then, I thought If the life of a woman is so blissful and powerful, why the bouts of nagging, chants of “emancipation”, demands for affirmative action and the volumes of combative feminist literature. I suppose it’s all about an egoistic contest for power and supremacy. As it is, both sexes are victims of the distortions of their complementary roles, occasioned by historical, cultural, socio-economic, religious and even political factors. –email@example.com
I read your article on the back page of the Sunday Sun and must confess it’s a nice piece about the ladies even though I am a guy. –firstname.lastname@example.org