Impunity is a Nigerian virtue, By Wale Bakare

The cacophony was unbelievable in the afternoon heat. I had come down from my car in front of the LCC! Building in Alausa to make the rest of the slightly less than 2km journey home on foot. It wasn’t the first time I was doing this and I rather welcomed the opportunity for a little extra exercise. I remember the first time I did the walk. We were coming back from a nephew’s wedding in FESTAC a couple of weeks and it had taken us about 40 minutes to drive from FESTAC to Alausa, which was where we encountered the traffic jam. After it took another hour and a half to move about 200 meters, I told my Sisters in the car that I was going to walk home as my back ached. They opted to remain in the vehicle. They arrived almost 2 hours after I had already taken a shower and gotten into bed. So, I made up my mind that would be my default action whenever I encountered that situation along that axis.

This afternoon, Friday the 7th July, 2023, was the same. I came down and asked Sunday to meet me at home. Today was not the same almost pleasurable walk though. The shrill, ear-piercing cacophony from the siren could be heard by all. The traffic was at a standstill and the drivers patiently waited since most had gotten used to the situation on that road caused by roadworks. I could barely hear myself think. I knew it wasn’t the same Police Siren used by the fake big men that lived in and around my estate nor was it that of the shady characters who successive Police Inspectors General had been unable to deprive of their retinue of uniformed, gun-totting guards. Anyway, the newly-minted IG had just announced the day before on national television that Police vehicles not actively chasing criminals were now bound to obey traffic rules. Causing environmental pollution with this noise was not obeying traffic rules. But I knew this was not the Police. This was different  I could not immediately recall why it was different but it was a sound I was familiar with but it wasn’t commonplace.

Then I saw the bright-red, double cabin pick-up truck ahead and I understood why the sound was different. It was a fire engine’s siren. And it was loud! People in cars wound up their windows while pedestrians covered their ears with their hands. I was perplexed. This was not a fire truck and it wasn’t on its way to put out a fire. The Fire Station was in the other direction so it wasn’t rushing to some emergency meeting. The siren was ineffectual as the road was too narrow and other drivers couldn’t get out of the way if they wanted to, even if it was just to allow the vehicle through to preserve their hearing and their sanity. Yet the noise continued, an unabating onslaught on one of our God-given senses and our sanity. It was too much to take. I could have walked past and left it behind. I was only a couple of hundred meters from the Otedola gate by this time and would soon be free of the nuisance but my conscience and my professional instincts would not allow me to do that. I was certain this fellow was not on an official assignment and I needed to let him know I would report him to his superiors for this gross indiscipline. The windows were wound up and the glass was tinted so I tapped on it. The glass slowly went down about a third of the way and I looked in. I was shocked.

My shock was not from the fact that there was just the driver in the vehicle. I wouldn’t have been too surprised about that. The impunity of the ‘Ogas’ is often manifested through their minions in Nigeria. Even the maid or driver of a big man see themselves as superior to other maids and drivers and would not hesitate to oppress them whenever the opportunity presents itself. It is quite common to see vehicles with flashing lights being driven lawlessly  by semi-literate drivers because that is what they do when their literate big Ogas are in the vehicles with them. So I wasn’t shocked that the driver of this mobile hazard was alone. It was the identity of the driver that got me gob-smacked. No, it wasn’t Sanwo-olu but it wasn’t too far off either. It was the head of the Fire Service herself. She was dressed in a casual Ankara dress and heading to anywhere but an official function. I asked her why she had the siren on and that couldn’t she see she was disturbing the entire neighbourhood. She looked at me. The disdain was glaring. “Who did this one think he was? Walking on foot and having the temerity to question me, a head of a State Agency?” The glass went back up. The cacophony continued.

I looked around and the curses from other motorists and pedestrians were almost as loud as the noise from her vehicle. I noticed at least one other person recording the scene. People who did not have the safety net of insulating themselves by shutting out the outside air covered their ears with their hands. Yet Madam refused to turn off the siren. The impunity and disrespect for fellow citizens was as brazen as I had ever seen. And this was so totally pointless and unproductive since she wasn’t going anywhere quicker than the rest of the other vehicles. I could only put her action down to unbridled ego-tripping. I wondered what someone like her was capable of if she ever attained a more powerful office. They say power corrupts. They didn’t say it makes you lose the ability to think for your own good.

Finally, and this is what concerns me from a professional standpoint. The abuse of the siren has implications for the Fire Service. When people like this make the people lose respect for the siren through such pointless acts of self-aggrandisement, they create a problem for the brave and hard-working firemen who actually have to respond to emergencies. In decent societies, you would never hear a fire trucks siren going off unless it was on its way to put out a fire. Ditto for ambulances and the Police. Over here, our penchant for oppressing our fellow citizens have made us turn all norms on their heads and the abnormal no longer seems so. I hope the Governor will call his hireling (yes Madam, that’s what you are, no matter what you think) to order and not allow her to continue to desecrate the image of what is perhaps the foremost Fire Service in Nigeria.

And these three things

JAMB is vindicated

Now that Mmesoma, the 19 year old JAMB results forger has finally stepped up and confessed her sins before man and God, those that were defending the indefensible can now finally give it a rest. To say the utterances of some hitherto respected people during the saga have been shocking is to say the least. I hope the young lady takes the advice of the Committee to heart by tendering an unreserved apology to JAMB and the rest of the country for the needless stress she caused. I know she has had plenty of tutelage from some of the country’s leadership in how to engage in criminal behaviour and still shoot out her middle finger to society, there are still those she can emulate amongst them. She can look at her Governor for guidance.

Who exactly is the ‘incompetent loudmouth’?

I have been watching the ongoing drama between the Nigeria Football Federation and our Falcons who should be preparing for the Women’s World Cup with consternation. Why do we always end up here? What is the problem with us? When the Spokesman of the NFF describes the team’s head coach in public as an ‘incompetent loudmouth’, it is easy to understand the calibre of people that occupy the Glass House. It is immaterial what the coach may have done or said to arouse that level of anger. The Spokesperson of the Federation should be a calm, well mannered, speaker whose feathers cannot be easily ruffled. In this matter of ‘incompetent loudmouth’, NFF Spokesman should look to see where his other fingers are pointing to.

Theading Twitter

I feel for Elon Musk. Well, maybe not as much as I would feel for most people who got scammed because they were foolish enough to believe ‘Prince Adebayo Hamza Okoro’ actually had a bridge to sell and needed just 10 percent of the value to ’mobilise things’, but I do understand that he must be pretty cheesed off right now. With a networth of almost $250b, the $44b he paid for Twitter might not have burnt a hole in his pocket but for Zuckie boy to wake up one morning and start ripping Twitter to ‘Threads’ for practically nothing must really rankle.