Lessons from Nudes.
The last two weeks have been profoundly overwhelming and full of so much work that there are days I call on my Deities (Maami & Sister-mum)to help me. I had so much going on, including being at the Lagos Studies Association Sponsored Panels at the 65th African Studies Association Conference in Philadelphia, where I presented a paper and chaired a panel. Within four days, my Amebo and monitoring spirit cell phone told me I had been in five cities, including Detroit, where I ran like antelope, thinking my connecting flight was in 45 minutes, only to be told it was delayed. I had to sit at the airport for 5 hours before my next flight. While trying to recover from all the compelling and complex features of this season of life, two days ago, the nude of a Nigerian Nollywood Veteran praying at sea to Olokun started circulating online. I hesitated to comment for myriad reasons, among which was the extreme work backlog I had and the advice of one of the trusted voices in my life who had consistently told me to "scale my concern" about Nigeria. More so, I recalled a viral picture and video of this veteran actor kneeling down with gratitude to thank an alleged political thug who gifted him a car. In this latter instance, someone I can't remember put up a post, a portion of which summarises my anxieties about Nigeria and triggered my undiagnosed PTSD.
One of my anxieties is that living in a nation without structure, systems, and protocol that ensure and secure the labor of your youth for you to enjoy in your old age is nothing but what Cameronian philosopher Achille Mbembe called "living dead" and his mentee Tendayi Sithole called "Deathscape." Whenever I see pictures of old pensioners who worked in their youth but can't access their pension in their old age, it sends fear down my spine about the future. Years ago, my PoP said our life's journey is supposed to be like the tribe of Benjamin. In the morning, you devour the prey, and in the evening, divide the plunder (Genesis 49:27). In other words, you should reap the dividends of the labor of your youth in the evening of your life. But how can you reap the reward of the labor of your youth in old age when life is being cut short in your youth while you are still trying to devour your prey. Is anyone paying attention to the lifespan in Nigeria? In the nude and prayer of Olaiya Igwe, I found lessons and gleaned wisdom for myself and few of which I have decided to share. I do not judge nor criticize him for choosing whom to pray to, but the content of his prayers speaks to our country's dysfunction.
The first lesson is if we build systems, structures, and process that is inclusive and diverse, we don't need to see one man or woman as a savior. One concern I had when I started traveling beyond Nigeria was self-service stores, gas stations, and other things. Beyond my concern about what automation means for human relations and jobs, I was enamored that things work without individuals. I live with a relative at a point in my life. We had so many drivers that if one messed up, there were more than 3-4 standing competent drivers to move us to the next. The driver-car as the symbol of government and state may be reductive, but it helps communicate a truth. We need to build systems that work with or without individuals.
The second lesson from the content of the prayer of Olaiya is that we need to think about our process of electing leaders- our electoral system reductively. God or Olokun will not need to bring votes if we have a credible voting system through which we can know who voted and who did not. Even if someone claims irregularities like someone did in a "somewhat" sane context, those who still have the national interest at heart and rationality will see through the tantrum because angels from Latin America and Africa would not come and vote the same way Olokun won't need to gather votes. That does not mean the electoral process elsewhere is flawless, but it is a little palatable if you remove other things.
The third lesson is to let God enjoy his rest unless there is a real emergency. Every time I pour my anger to God about suffering humanity, there is a voice in my head reminding me that God finished his work and is resting. What we make of our world is not God's; it is ours. He gave the earth to us if we gleaned from Judeo-Christian texts. This understanding, among other things, made me stop looking forward to the new year to do what I can do today. PoP said years ago that we should" stop asking the calendar to do what a decision would do for us." He once said that a change on the calendar will not do anything without concrete steps. Years ago, when I was an active pentrascal(read as pentecostal), I used to fast for Nigeria but not anymore. Now drawing from that popular Nigeria video, "any money wey I see now, na Asun and Killish I go buy". For reasons I can't fully comprehend, it seems that religion has replaced reason. If we build structure and a working country, people will stop asking God to do what our common sense can do. As my one-time BFF would say, we would stop using our faith as a tool of frustration.
The fourth and final lesson is to watch out for my desperation and caution against it. We will only lie if we fail to acknowledge that the current realities in Nigeria have created a misery that makes Nigerian damn every notion of dignity and decency. If Olaiya is nude and praying, many are dying in desserts, trying to get to Europe for this same desperation that made him naked. On a lighter note, as the video was circulating, one "spirit" suggested that I use part of my rent money for asun; I told myself to watch out for your desperation.
While I respect and refuse to judge how the veteran actor expressed his frustration and desperation, I hope we will use this moment to reflect on why his action became necessary.
Posted on Facebook on November 6, 2022.
I do not own the copyright to this image. Kindly email oyin2010@gmail.com for credit.
