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2019: May Our Mouths Not Kill Us
By Lasisi Olagunju
Inimitable Ilorin bard, Odolaye Aremu, sang that Alhaji Lamidi Adedibu was ‘Death that shouts at one before killing one; lightning that strikes in dry season.’ I borrow and give those praise names to government as we know it anywhere.
Truth is what power approves; and logic is what frames power and its potentialities. In the fast receding values of our fathers, the one who lived life in peace was that person who bridled his mouth. I pray daily for the ones with verbal incontinence — the ones who can’t see and keep quiet. I tell them: May your mouth not kill you.
IToday, technology is making us speak almost only with our fingers – they are the unsleeping mouths prompting us to say everything about everything — and about everyone. Shit-posters are on the loose as a counterforce to government’s thriving shit business. The government lies with impunity; the opposition lies as a matter of duty. Both sides and all who side with them have no inhibition in saying whatever serves their politics — no matter how hideous. Our elders remind us that the one whose mouth has no brake would die the death of Iwofa Alaba. That restless fellow was Alaba’s Iwofa (pawn) who never took heed of any counsel even when offered freely. He was that person who found Akuuju (Skeleton) perching on a precarious tree branch and loudly sent it greetings. What sort of man would not allow the dead sleep in peace even if it is on a tree branch in broad daylight? And Iwofa Alaba got more than he asked for. Skeleton answered him with an exclamation and an ominous warning: “IwofaAlaba! Mind your business or your mouth will kill you.”
But IwofaAlaba wouldn’t stop. He was surprised that the dead could talk even without flesh, blood and life. “Ah, you answered me,” he shouted. “Eemo wo’lu! It won’t be my ears alone that would hear these. The king and the whole town must also hear.” Iwofa Alaba ran to the king’s palace and told every soul he met on the way his tale of trouble. Breathless and sure-mouthedly, he gave an incredibly accurate account of what he saw and heard to the king and his chiefs. “Follow me, Kabiyesi, and see what my eyes just saw and hear what my ears just heard.” Talking skeletons! He was thought to be mad, or drunk or simply insolent trying to ridicule the king by taking him out on a wide goose chase.
“Iwofa Alaba, are you sure of what you just said? If we get to the kolanut tree and we can’t see this your talking skeleton, I will order that my sword be unsheathed in your face and sheathed at your back!” The king said and Iwofa Alaba understood what that meant; it meant death, summary execution. But he was sure of what he saw and heard and so agreed to the decree of the king. Every villager who heard what Iwofa Alaba said exclaimed “Ahhhhhh!”
The whole village –king, chiefs, old and young –soon followed Iwofa Alaba to his tree and the talking skeleton. And, truly, there it was, the skeleton, perching lifelessly on a branch.
Iwofa Alaba, confident and happy at his achievement, shouted at Akuuju, the skeleton; greeted it and demanded that it greet the king and his chiefs. Silence. Akuuju did not utter a word in response; did not even hear a word. Dead men don’t talk! Alarmed, Iwofa Alaba moved closer and shouted louder: “Akuuju, why are you not talking? Were you not the one who entertained me with talks just this morning? Talk, the king and his chiefs are itching to hear you.”
From Akuuju came neither a word nor a whimper. Sweating profusely, Iwofa Alaba remembered the last words of Akuuju: ‘May your mouth not kill you.’ But it was too late for him to say Amen. The king had to fulfill his pledge; Iwofa Alaba had to die and he was beheaded for ‘tricking’ the king and his people to the bush. But just as Iwofa Alaba’s head was severed from his neck, Akuuju moved, shook the tree branch with laughter. He laughed and laughed. A startled king and people looked at the skeleton and wondered why he killed Iwofa Alaba. “I did not kill him,” Akuuju said. “His mouth killed him. I warned him. Your lips are not moulded to move every time you see something. May your mouth not kill you.”
This 2019 politics is an election of skeletons. We have seen some; we will see many more. Skeletons are very stubborn effigies; they always wait by the roadside of politics. We will encounter many as we journey towards the destiny of Nigeria. Politicians are praying for us to be wise and let the dead rest in their chosen height — undisturbed. We won’t keep quiet and we won’t stop asking questions from power. We can’t wait to see the end of the skeletons and we will not end like Iwofa Alaba whose unhinged mouth destroyed his head. Our fingers will not stop clicking — and they will not kill us.