Birth of the beautiful ones

(This piece of mine was published in Vanguard of December 13, 2006. But I still find it relevant to today's Nigeria. I hope you do)

Ayi Kwei Armah opens his novel with the symbolic condition of a badly battered bus. The bus driver's only concern was the cash in his pocket at the end of any journey— not the comfort or, at least, value for hard-earned money, of the commuters. The author had Ghana in mind when he penned this great novel. But, now, more than ever, his narrative could have as well be set in Nigeria.

Take a literal look at our molues and a clear picture of this part of the earth becomes clearer. But most good drivers still find themselves, by accident or design, in charge of battered molues. This is why Nigerians have a mixed multitude of aspirants to chose from.

For a President only, Nigerians must add to their problems the choice from about 30 aspirants. Add to these, aspirants for the houses of assembly and the poor Nigerian might get a headache. Ordinarily, this is the beauty of democracy. The coming in of a new breed and the birth of beautiful ones. But nothing is ordinary in Nigeria.

Governors are suddenly waking up to their responsibilities and starting off serious but long term projects. They even want Charles Soludo to share the $10 billion excess crude oil money and $41 billion foreign reserve. This is to help them execute projects and programmes for the peoples' benefit. That they have a few months more to stay is immaterial. A good governor does not need four whole years to perform miracles. Many reps and senators are running back to their roots for support. These too are not ordinary drivers. All struggling to become beautiful.

Nigerians are very good judges of beauty. This is why none of these drivers underestimate them. To checkmate quality selection by these judges lining the catwalk, there must be explosions both on land and air; the sanctity of life must be disregarded; voters' registration must be done beside the houses of some council chairmen; aspirants forms must be bought with millions. These are all forms of beauty.

The scorpion is Salman Rudshie's The Moor's Last Sigh is an engaging character for typifying the Nigerian beauty. This scorpion begged the frog for a ride across a stretch of water, promising not to sting. Midway, the scorpion administered a deadly venom on the frog. As both of them started to drown, the scorpion apologised: “I couldn't help it,” he said. “It is in my nature.”

Do you still have to wonder why simple things are so hard to do? Do you now read clearly the picture you get when a comparison is made between the beauty of these present drivers and the ones of old. Old beauties such as Jarwaharal Nehru, Ghandi, Mandela, Awo, Zik, Clementy Voroshilov, Mao and so on. Their beauty might be tainted one way or the other, but they stood for something.

The most difficult aspect of the present forms of beauty is trying to see the edges clearly. Prostitution seems in vogue. Trend setters, these beauties.

And Ayi Kwei Armah brought in another bus at the end of his narrative. This time, it was a beautiful new bus from the outside. No one, not even “The Man” (the main character in the novel), knew the condition of the occupants of that bus. Whether the old bus was just repainted; the occupant still grit their teeth for each pot-holes encounters, more standing than sitting, a real all-round good, new bus or the usual deceitful messianic come back of those who forgot something at the front seat: you be the judge.

The cute pretty bus encountered a road block mounted by no less than force men themselves. The creative driver inserted cash inside his driver's license and passed it on to the security men. One of them took a look at the papers, while effecting a disappearing act on the money. Knowing that the only reading those who swore “to serve and protect with integrity” can do is to note the denomination a legal tender belongs, the driver collected his document and zoomed off.

For posterity to see, record and excuse any of his actions, the driver had painted on his bus' back, a beautiful inscription: “The Beautiful Ones Are Net Yet Born.”