Letter Of Apology To Dimeji Bankole by Pius Adesanmi

Ogbeni Dimeji Bankole:

Calvary
greetings to you in the name of our
Lord Jesus Christ. I hope this letter
meets you in good condition of
health, if so, doxology. You can see
that I am using the
proper Naijaphraseology for letter
writing.
That’s because I need to do
something really patriotic by
apologizing to you for all the
horrible things I wrote about you in
my columns during your tenure as
Speaker of the Federal House of
Representatives. Hardly a week
passed without a screaming op-ed
from my fiery pen calling you every
name under the sun. Igba aimo ni o.
I just didn’t know better.
You see, I was one of those who
high-fived and “declared surplus” in
pubs and beer parlors after you
emerged as Speaker.Finally a bright
speck of hope in Nigeria’s
permanent penumbra! Here was a
young, urbane, cosmopolitan man.
Measured, well spoken,
educated, and certainly blessed
with an intellect and analytical mind
that could help him grasp not just
the urgency of
our national situation but the truly
historic dimension of his emergence
at that level in Nigeria’s political
pecking order. Surely, he would
understand that the hopes of an
entire generation for paradigmatic
shifts in how we run and envision
Nigeria now rested squarely on
his shoulders? Surely, he had
whatever it took to understand the
power and symbolism of the
personal example?
I have always believed that what it
will ultimately take to rescue Nigeria
from her comfortable niche in the
dustbin of history is one, just one
courageous official who dares to
become a singular speck of light
radiating in our collective darkness.
An individual cannot work miracles
in Nigeria’s Hobbesian world of
corruption
and irredeemable collapse of
morality, ethos, and every sense of
civic responsibility. But a
courageous individual could take
little baby steps every day. Baby
steps that would not go
unnoticed by the people. You could,
for instance, cut down on the gap
between power and the Nigerian
people. Very simple steps: reduce
the convoy, reduce the arrogance of
power, say no to corruption or
inducement to corruption whenever
and wherever possible.
I am not naïve. If you refuse to
accept your share of the money,
they could kill you. If you refuse to
accept your own car every time the
National Assembly decides to
purchase cars for Senators and
Reps, they
could kill you. Teamwork and
collective bargaining are critical to
the architecture of corruption in
Nigeria. I understand all that. But,
surely, a little courage, vision, and
will could make you identify tiny
little areas where you could
episodically say no and gradually
begin to instill the idea of the
personal example in all the souls
lost to corruption in the National
Assembly?
These were the little baby steps one
thought you would at least take.
You would have done your part and
would be in the position to leave the
rest to the Nigerian people. We
would then hope, pray, and struggle
for a worthy successor to come and
build on your initial baby steps of
rectitude. Did you do any of these
things? No. Instead, you settled
neatly into the status quo and
rapidly developed an acquisitive
appetite second only
toMobutu Sese Seko’s. You became
a supervisor of corruption
asteamwork, rolling from one
corruption scandal to another. You
stole and stole and stole again. You
stole big and you stole small. When
there was nothing left to steal, you
supervised the idea of
collectively borrowing money for
plunder in
the name of the National Assembly.
So, I went to town. I screamed
myself hoarse. I called you a thief. I
called you visionless and shameless.
I called you reprobate because you
betrayed the mission that my
generation identified in the area of a
paradigm shift for Nigeria. You were
a colossal disgrace and I called you
so in my columns.
When the EFCC came after you, I
was not impressed. I did not
celebrate. I know enough about
Nigeria to understand that anybody
who has stolen the kind of money
you raked in as Speaker would
never receive his or her just
desserts from the Nigerian criminal
justice system. Tafa Balogun got a
rap on the wrist. Ditto
Lucky Igbinedion,
Cecilia Ibru, DiepreyeAlamieyeseigha,
Bode George, Joshua Dariye, etc.
Only those who are dumb enough
not to steal hundreds of billions face
the full wrath of the law in Nigeria. I
knew you would beat that useless
EFCC rap.
You did. Congrats.
What I fervently hoped for, though,
is the justice of the people.Not
jungle justice. I was sort of hoping
that a collective sentiment of
repulsion for you and everything
you stand for would seep through
the Nigerian society, turning you
into a pariah. I was looking forward
to your social death. I hoped and
prayed that Nigerians would treat
you like the disgraceful outcast that
you truly are; that you would search
for tears and even tears would avoid
the company of your leprous eyes. I
thought the people would pelt you
with eggs and rotten tomatoes
wherever you dragged your
odoriferous self in Nigeria.
What do I see these days instead?
You are still there in
Nigeria,strutting your stuff in the
social terrain. You are still moving in
the circles of cool people.
When you enter a gathering, the MC
still stops proceedings to “recognize
the presence of…” To make matters
worse, I saw pictures of you at the
public presentation of the laudable
Development Agenda for Western
Nigeria (DAWN) in Lagos. There you
were among the very best from that
region. I very nearly mistook you for
a credible, responsible person when
I first saw the pictures. But I looked
closely and was alarmed that
nobody in that hall seemed to be
minimally worried to be in the same
room with you. No
outrage.Nothing. Since when do
people whose conduct in public
office not only represents a disgrace
to their race but also, and more
importantly, the very antithesis of
vision get to be present at the
presentation of a document
representing vision?
Something snapped in me when I
saw pictures of you beaming among
respectable people in that hall. I got
tired. So, what did I spend all this
time abusing you for? If the people
you stole black, blue, and dry say
“carry go”; if they are cool with you
junketing around in Nigeria like an
elder statesman; if they are cool
with the idea that you are now even
a landlord of the Nigerian people,
having stole enough money to
purchase the official residence of
the Speaker at a criminally reduced
price and now renting it to
your successor; if Nigerians are cool
with all these things, who am I to
keep screaming and calling you
names? After all, vox populi…
Abeg my broda, no vex for me o. If
Nigerians say to you: “go onsoun”
and “nothing do you”; if they tell
people like me to “leave
matter jare”, then I must remember
that Igbo proverb about the
individual waging war against the
community. If your people say they
are okay with paying you rent for
property you stole from them, my
brother carry go. I will no longer
take panadol when my neighbor
says he has no headache.

Yours sincerely,
Pius Adesanmi