Ordinarily, the postponement by a week of Nigeria’s 2019 general election should not have generated as much outrage as it has done, but the protest that the postponement has attracted is positive proof of the fact that the Nigerian electorate do not trust the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC). In 2011, the country’s elections were postponed even after voting had started. In 2015, the elections were postponed for six weeks on security grounds. The explanation that has now been given in 2019 about “logistical problems” should have been sufficient, but Nigerians are unimpressed because they have learnt not to trust the present INEC or the ruling government, hence the default response has been a series of speculative, yet unverifiable theories about what may be the actual story behind the postponement. Speaking for myself, I am willing to give INEC the benefit of the doubt, but what I find curious is the timing of the postponement, the management of the fall-outs, and the too many unanswered questions still hanging in the air. INEC needs to make more disclosures. 

The election was postponed Nicodemously in the middle of the night, while most Nigerians were asleep. The people had gone to bed hoping to troop out in the morning to use their voters’ cards to determine the future of Nigeria in the next four years, only to wake up in the morning to be told that their dream had been stolen while they slept. That certainly is suspicious.  Legitimate questions have been raised and INEC has not yet offered satisfactory answers: At what point did it occur to INEC and its leadership that there were challenges of logistics? At 8 pm on February 15? At 1 am on February 16? Was there a meeting to determine the best course of action and at what time did that meeting take place after Nigerians had gone to bed? Was there at any point a meeting of all relevant stakeholders before the decision to postpone the election was taken? Who took the decision on behalf of Nigerians and all stakeholders? 

Or was it a unilateral decision? If so, should only one person take such a weighty decision which has economic, social, and political implications not to talk of implications for the country’s image? INEC has since the postponement met with party leaders and election monitors and observers. We can label this without prejudice as an insulting afterthought! Who will defray the additional cost that is now being  incurred by international monitors and observers? Who will compensate political parties and candidates for the cost of preparation for election day? How about the people who travelled from one part of the country to the other to vote? How about the intending brides and bridegrooms who had fixed their weddings for February 23 and March 9, but who would now have to shift the dates and print new invitation cards?

In the explanation offered by INEC, there was some reference to the “weather”. When I got to that line, I was afraid that the author of the press release would soon end up blaming God for the postponement, but well, INEC didn’t – at least not yet! But the explanations are obviously unsatisfactory, given how INEC had consistently assured the Nigerian people and the international community that it was ready and prepared. If the postponement was inevitable, it would have certainly been foreseeable, and it could have been announced a few days earlier. Indeed, a few days to February 16, Professor Yakubu was still on television swearing that the dates for the election were sacrosanct. Was he deliberately lying to Nigerians when he said that? The Nigerian Airspace Management Agency (NAMA) has for record purposes, pointedly accused the INEC Chairman of lying about the weather. NAMA insists that there was no disruption in air traffic services as claimed by Professor Yakubu.  

What I see is that the postponement has achieved only four things and you can interpret each item positively or negatively depending on your inclination. One: it has deepened the Nigerian electorate’s suspicion, mistrust, angst and disappointment regarding what they consider to be the lack of independence of both INEC and other institutions involved in the management of the current electoral process. The people are convinced that there is something fishy about the postponement. INEC under Professor Mahmud Yakubu’s watch may have conducted over 1,000 elections, but the verdict out there is that the present INEC has not advertised enough capacity, hence the people have been talking about the “Osun Template” and a certain unproven intervention by the United States and other countries of the world, or a local plan to derail the elections and a scheme to put in place an Interim National Government. What we hear is that the ruling APC actually wanted a staggered election or a series of inconclusive elections to enable it control the outcome of the 2019 polls, or at best remain in power by all means.. 

Two:   Before February 16, there was so much tension in the air, passion as well, and what looked like very serious determination on the part of the voting population to participate in the 2019 general election. This reading may be contradicted by the number of voters cards that remain uncollected, but what I have seen is that those who had their cards and who were ready to vote were ready to troop out on election day. The last time I witnessed such passion was during Nigeria’s 1993 general elections. The people wanted to vote out the military and its agents, and they meant business.  The postponement of the scheduled February 16 election has brought down the level of tension in the country. It has poured cold water on the people’s passion.  It is too early to confirm whether or not this will affect the turn-out nationwide on Saturday, February 23, but what we hear on the streets is that the people are insisting that no kind of manouevre will prevent them from having a say with their votes. 

Three: by that token, INEC may have inadvertently set the people against the government of the day. What was meant to be a normal process has been turned, more or less into a referendum on the Buhari government. The people are not blaming Professor Mahmoud Yakubu. They don’t even know him: he has not yet attained that level of importance. The man they blame is President Muhammadu Buhari and the APC. Which is why I think the APC has played very clever politics by immediately distancing itself from INEC and the postponement. The witches in APC have mastered the game of not allowing their mouths to be publicly smeared with blood. They have chosen the best strategy in the circumstance, and I applaud them for that. 

Four: the postponement has further deepened the suspicion of the international community. It has put Nigeria on the spot. No one should be surprised that the international media is already analyzing and over-analyzing what is going on in Nigeria. And who is going to help the present government manage the perception problem that has arisen, especially when President Buhari tells CNN: “Nobody will unseat me!” Is he or the APC, in a position to pre-determine the outcome of this election? 

The sum of it is that INEC is at the crossroads. Nowhere is the job of an electoral umpire easy. It is more challenging in Nigeria because you have to serve man and God, especially as the enabling factors do not stop with the right of the people to vote and choose but a panoply of other factors including religion, ethnicity, money, violence, incumbency, traditional institutions, the occult, and political mischief. Nonetheless, not much rigorous thinking went into the postponement of the scheduled February 16 election. INEC could have told us for example that it wanted to use the opportunity to bring more people into the voting bracket by declaring 3 more days for the collection of voters cards, or some other kind of sop. Instead, INEC placed its credibility on the line. It confirmed earlier suspicions that there was an original plan to postpone the election. It played into the hands of the skeptics.

The challenge before Nigeria’s INEC as I see it, is how to now project itself as a credible and reliable electoral umpire. It can do that by disappointing all doubting Thomases and run a free, fair and credible election on February 23 and March 9. It is expected that INEC would use the one-week postponement to address all issues of logistics, and ensure that nothing goes wrong. I mentioned Professor Mahmud Yakubu earlier. He certainly should not allow himself to end up as a fall guy. He must do what is right.  He and his team must make sure that no election anywhere in Nigeria is declared inconclusive! Yakubu’s INEC has unfortunately acquired a reputation for declaring elections “inconclusive.” Nigerians are tired of such declarations. It is one word nobody wants to hear. The general public opinion is that when any election is declared inconclusive, it is a ploy to rig and manipulate the result. The time available is short, emotions are strong, the Nigerian public is politically divided, INEC has an urgent task to reassure Nigerians that it is sincere and that there is no hidden agenda. Any attempt to stagger the elections or postpone the elections further, will amount to a violation of the will of the people. 

Politics matters. Yes. It is probably the most important factor that defines our lives. But the country matters more. As Nigeria goes to the polls, the country must come first – every one seeking a job in government must realize that it is only when there is a country that they can get the job they seek. Letters of application are already before the people of Nigeria: the people in whom resides the sovereignty of Nigeria must be allowed to decide.  INEC must be ready to address all issues arising from the postponement of the 2019 general election. It needs be reminded, as I close this piece that all of this began with its mismanagement of previous elections, particularly in Osun and Ekiti states, and its predilection to declare elections “inconclusive.” The controversy over the presence of an alleged relative of President Buhari in one of the most strategic positions in INEC has also not helped matters. The burning of INEC offices along geo-political lines in areas of strength of the opposition only further worsened things. And is it true that a major supplier of election materials is also a candidate in this election? Could it also be true that elections were actually held in some parts of the country on February 16 because INEC could not reach all its officials and units before the scheduled commencement of elections? 

And finally, is the postponement in conformity with Section 26 of the Electoral Act and Section 105 of the 1999 Constitution? If truly it is not, then we are yet to get to the end of this postponement cinema in the light of both Section 105(2) of the Constitution and Section 26(5) of the Electoral Act. And did I hear right as I penned the last paragraphs of this commentary that President Buhari at an APC caucus meeting in Abuja announced that the security agencies have been instructed to ensure that anyone who snatches a ballot box on election day does so “at the expense of his life.” Where is the law in Nigeria that allows the President of the country to so publicly endorse extra-judicial killing and official violence? One last thing:  The international community is watching. Other world leaders expect President Muhammadu Buhari to provide the leadership that is urgently required at this critical moment in Nigeria.  

Whoever came up with the wise saying that Nigerian politics is dirty deserves an award for perspicacity. I have just returned from that dirtied, muddled up, confused, uncertain, unpredictable zone of Nigerian life and society with truck loads of stories in my head and enough impressions in my mind to last me another life-time. As you may be aware, I was Deputy Governorship candidate of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) in the just concluded 2019 general elections in Ogun State. It was quite an experience. 

Before now, I had followed President Goodluck Jonathan to every nook and cranny of Nigeria during the 2015 Presidential campaign. I also served previously as a member of the Governing Council of Olabisi Onabanjo University (2003- 2007), member of the Board of Lagos State Security Trust Fund (2007 – 2011), and Official Presidential Spokesperson (2011 -2015). But I can tell you that the major lesson I have learnt in the last few months is that there is a serious difference between theory and practice in Nigerian politics. The reality of Nigerian politics puts a lie to what they teach us in Grad school, in all those seminars we attend across the world and what we experience as political appointees. Nigerian politics does not follow the rule book, the theories or what the book-makers say. This thing we call democracy, which Nigeria returned to in 1999, after mass protest and frustration with military rule, is not exactly the same democracy that they have in either the United Kingdom or the United States. Professional scholars of the subject may need to embark on a closer interrogation of a special sub-set called Nigerian democracy. Its features, post-1999, are unique. 

I have before now written about the violence that we encountered. In one piece, I reported how we narrowly escaped death and killing in Sagamu and how our campaign vehicles were vandalized. We later took the matter to the police and the Magistrate Court.  We are still in court.  On another occasion, in Abeokuta, after visiting the Hausa community in Abeokuta North, some of our vehicles were again vandalized. I didn’t even bother to report the incident. By then, violence had become the new normal not just in Ogun State but across the country. With reports of persons being killed in Rivers sate, gunshots in Lagos and mayhem in some other parts of the country, it would have been foolhardy to whine about broken vehicle windscreens. 

But we eventually had our real taste of violence when we visited Itori in Ewekoro Local Government just two days before the election. We went to see the Olu of Itori and his chiefs and the people of Itori to solicit for support. It was like going to the Lion’s Den. We had a good meeting; everyone was civil. Indeed, everything went well until area boys took over the streets and started attacking the Oba’s palace with stones and other weapons. We were told to ignore them and the meeting went on, but as time passed and dusk descended, the same people who had told us not to bother, started advising us to hurry up and leave the community. We learnt that Itori and the entire Ewekoro Local Government is Governor Ibikunle Amosun’s stronghold. The previous day, we were told, members of the All Progressives Congress (APC) were not even allowed to campaign in the community. They were chased away with a volley of bullets.   

This time, we were better prepared. Our security men went after the Itori hoodlums. They chased them into streets and disarmed them. They also launched a rainfall of gunshots. The Itori boys ran when they faced superior fire power unleashed by a combination of policemen, Civil Defence forces, vigilante groups and the OPC. The Vigilante men were valiant. They dared the hoodlums. They overpowered them and seized their weapons. Axes and guns. One look at the kind of axes that had been arrayed against us, a decent person is likely to faint! We left that community surrounded by a combined team of courageous men who led us to safety. I thought I was somewhere in Syria. When I got home, I could not sleep. My feet were hurting as if someone had set them on fire. I had body ache. My heart was palpitating. It was as if someone was playing a rhythm of gunshots in my head. I had to ask Wale and Egunje to go and help me buy Lexotan tablets. When they got to the pharmacy, they were told that Lexotan is a prescription drug and that a doctor’s prescription would be required. I don’t know how they managed the situation, but they brought a tablet which helped to calm my nerves and I slept. At that point, I lost interest in the campaign.  I kept seeing images of a shining axe. It was the kind of axe that would break any bone.

Decent and serious-minded persons would continue to avoid Nigerian politics if we do not curb the menace of violence. Should decent persons summon the courage to go into politics, they too may help to deepen the culture of violence in an attempt to protect themselves. The first thing a Nigerian politician considers is how to come out of the process alive. In this last elections, persons were killed in Rivers. Oyo State became a hotbed of reprisal killing. Properties were destroyed in Kano… Yakubu Mahmood, the Chairman of INEC is not in a position to say that he did a good job. On March 9, the people were so scared and disappointed, they didn’t even bother to turn out in large numbers.  The international community is relieved that in spite of everything, Nigeria, West Africa’s most strategic country, did not implode. I get the impression that Nigerians themselves are calm because the worst that they expected did not happen. They are glad to still have a country. 

I have also learnt that Nigerian politics is all about money. You can talk about poverty index on television and in writing and quote those figures from the usual sources, but when you go onto the field of politics, you are bound to confront the reality of the poverty that has turned the Nigerian electorate into an endless community of beggars and cynics. The tragedy of Nigeria is the impoverishment of the people and the total collapse of values and dignity. Everywhere I went, people begged for money. They were not interested in policy documents, or campaign leaflets or gift items. They just wanted cash, raw cash. I ran into hordes of young men who earn a living by belonging to neighbourhood gangs and cults. They are not interested in any talk about development and progress, many of them are college graduates by the way, they just want money to buy “drink and smoke.” 

The Nigerian political elite, the professional wing that is, has over the years destroyed this country. The political field is peopled by hypocrites who exploit the people’s poverty. The people themselves have become dangerously cynical. When we campaigned on the streets and gave exercise books to mothers and their children, we were told: “Ko si owo,  ko si ibo” -  “no money, no vote.”  Nobody was interested in exercise books! If people said as much as hello, they wanted you to pay for it. There were endless requests for mobilization fees, transformers, vehicles and all kinds of things. Two days to the election, the situation became almost unmanageable. I was asked to pick up bills at drinking joints. People stopped by and asked for money to “enjoy the rest of the evening”. Others came with requests for money to pay hospital fees, to take care of a newly born baby, to bury a relative, or to make a girlfriend happy.  One political associate told me that every request was valid because as far as the Nigerian people are concerned, only a thief goes into politics and it is better to “take their own share” before the election. 

The real problem with Nigerian democracy must be the people themselves. I don’t yet have the the full picture in other parts of the country, other than Oyo State where the people seem to have voted according to their conscience. They taught Governor Abiola Ajimobi a lesson. They made it clear to him that careless talk is not a virtue in politics and that arrogance has serious consequences. But in some other parts of the country, like Ogun and Lagos states, money played a major role. The people collected money. They voted according to the size of their greed. If you don’t have money to throw away and close your eyes while doing so, may be you should never venture into Nigerian politics as it is today. I get the impression that the people do not trust their political leaders and the politicians. There may be slight differences here and there in terms of this affective and cognitive immersion in the Nigerian political process, but for the most part, the people believe that all politicians are the same.  I was shocked by the level and size of cynicism that I saw. 

Going forward, Nigeria must address the crisis of campaign funding and finance. One Governor went on radio to boast that he will spend N7 billion to impose his candidate of choice on a state. The monthly Internally Generated Revenue (IGR) of the state in question is N7 billion. Nobody has taken up the issue. Similar acts of brazen silliness have been reported across the country. Going forward, we also need to worry more about the leadership recruitment process. It must be possible for Nigerian democracy to accommodate and promote the best, those who are willing to serve, and who believe in Nigeria and higher causes. 

I also learnt many lessons about the psychology of Nigerian politics. I re-discovered our people and environment. I got a first-hand exposure to Nigerian politics, not as an observer-analyst but as a direct participant. I am better prepared for the future, and I have more than enough stories to tell. I want to thank Senator Buruji Kashamu for giving me the opportunity of this field experience and for his down-to-earth-ness, his sincerity, wisdom and the leadership that he provided. We fought hard in the courts to keep the ticket and we prevailed in the end. The PDP betrayed us up till the last minute but we are comforted that we stood for the truth and for justice. Senator Buruji Kashamu has since congratulated Prince Dapo Abiodun, the Ogun State Governor-elect. He has also visited him at home in Iperu-Remo. Dapo Abiodun has a duty and a responsibility to run an inclusive government that will address the interest of all the people of Ogun State. He should resist the temptation to be an Ijebu or APC Governor. I want to thank all the friends, family members and associates who supported me and stood by me. I am grateful to every member of our political family who devoted their time, energy and resources to the campaign. I also want to thank all the people who did their best to discourage me, and the professional trolls, haters and grumblers who have sent messages to mock me. I don’t feel discouraged. I believe Nigerian politics can be upgraded and rescued if we all summon the courage to get involved in it.  We did not lose. We won in losing. That is the paradox of this experience and of the future that is to come.

If I felt any sense of loss at all, the morning after, it was in fact, the shocking report of the death of Pius Adesanmi, Professor of English and African Studies at Carleton University, Canada, in the ill-fated Boeing 737 Max 8 aircraft that crashed a few minutes after taking off from Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  

Pius was a member of our community, and he was one of the best and the brightest. He wielded a sparkling, lyrical and polemical pen which he deployed with the ease and confidence of a well-cultured intellectual. I was his fan. I enjoyed reading him because it was not difficult to see that his talent was original and that his intellect was solid and that the respect and admiration that he enjoyed was well deserved. He criticized me on many occasions but he was that kind of critic that left enough room for your dignity. I read many of his comments on my choices and interventions without feeling diminished. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do flowers wither? Why Claude Ake? Why Pius Adesanmi? Ethiopian Airline has the best and the largest fleet in Africa. And now this… But who are we to question the Master Builder, the Great Architect Of The Universe who in one breath creates and in another breath, astounds us with the unexpected? Pius Adesanmi made his mark. If he were here, he would have had a lot more to say about the just concluded Nigerian elections. He was a significant public affairs commentator and a credible voice on all platforms. He was right: Nigeria remains, as he put it, “a nation in progress.” His death is a sad loss to the intellectual community.    

Here is yet another account of what I saw in the politics of Ogun State and Nigeria. One of my early teachable moments was the realization that you are required to dress like the people whose votes you are looking for, and operate at that level, be like them, connect with them. When the 2019 political struggle began, I used to attend meetings wearing suits. Party members looked at me suspiciously. I couldn’t miss the glances, the whispers, the murmurs but I couldn’t quite figure out what was amiss until one Sunday afternoon, I arrived at a scheduled meeting all suited up.  As soon as I stepped in, I thought I overheard someone saying quietly: “Even on Sunday evening!” I didn’t think that comment was meant for me. Whoever said that was probably talking to someone else. The pieces soon fell in place when one of our apex leaders accosted me: 

“Deputy, e ma de ku asiko yi o. E ku igbiyanju. Oro kan ma ni mo ma fe ba yin so.”

“Go ahead sir.”

“N se ni mo kan de ti e n wo kini na.  O dabi e ni pe, you don’t like to dress like us. I see you don’t wear Sokoto and Buba, or any traditional attires. You just like these white man’s suits”

“Of course, I have caftans. But I prefer to wear suits for work and formal meetings,” I responded. 

I also tried to explain that I was just coming from a television programme. 

‘Ha ha. Okay. But e joor sir., for this our campaign, you have to take it easy with these your suits oh. In politics, you must always look like the people you want to lead and speak like them. That is the only way they can feel comfortable with you. E joor sir oh. Si so okun mo orun  ni igba gbobo  yi fe po ju. Please do something about it. In this part of the country, a politician cannot go about wearing ties. Lai kii se aja!”

Of course, my wardrobe went through a quick transformation. I no longer heard any complaints or whispers, or murmurs. I had adjusted. I made friends very quickly. But that was not all. Our principal, Senator Buruji Kashamu operated mostly during the campaigns, from his Lagos office and his office in Ijebu Igbo. The latter is the Omo Ilu Foundation headquarters, a sprawling multi-purpose complex, sitting on about three acres, complete with a hall large enough for over 5, 000 persons, in addition to an open pavilion, offices and a row of chalets with about 20 rooms. Omo Ilu Foundation, founded in 2010, is Senator Kashamu’s philanthropic organization and political structure through which he provides help for orphans, widows and the indigent.  We either met in Lagos or in Ijebu-Igbo, and given my position as his running mate, I was constantly present at meetings and activities.  It didn’t take a while before the Senator noticed that I always came alone. I didn’t travel in a convoy. I didn’t have a retinue of hangers-on. One day, he called me aside and told me:

“Dokita, why are you always walking alone? A politician does not walk alone. In politics, you must have your own team.  You must have your own followers. You must have your own structure. I am going to help you set up your own structure and you can recruit your own followers over time. That is how to play politics. You can’t be going about alone. Politics is about people, strategy, hardwork.”   

In no time, I had my own team and till the campaign ended, I never walked alone. Bouncers, security men, campaign vehicles, a team of drivers and assistants, party associates, advisers, supporters, family friends, consultants etc. My house became a beehive of activities. In Nigeria, a politician is not expected to close his doors.  Men, women trooped in. People I had not seen in the last three years showed up. They sat in the compound, some came into the house and took over the sitting rooms. The house of a politician must have a ready supply of food and drinks. The house was soon flooded with cartons of assorted drinks. Dry gin. Schnapps, Brandy. Beer. Whatever. Some politicians insist that politics is better when it is fueled with the engine oil of alcohol. I had an inner crowd of regulars, male and female. At certain times of the day, someone will raise his hand and say: “De-pu-ty, e fun wa ni amala!  Maa-anu n –fa-gi.”  Time to eat! I never got a chance to meet this ever-hungry Maaa-nu, the apocryphal carpenter of the stomach!  

These are experienced politicians who have been here and there. Some of them have participated in virtually every major political party since the return to civilian rule in 1999. They know every key political figure in the State. If you want to know your great grandmother’s biography, she may have died in the 15^thcentury, you just join politics, you will hear stories about your ancestors who you never knew ever lived. Interacting with those veterans, I received much education about local politics. They know everyone and their habits. There was never a short supply of anecdotes about the public and private habits of prominent Ogun State politicians, their wives and concubines, children and the underground network that seems to be a strong and dominant factor in Nigerian politics. People came in and out, sometimes staying till 12 mid-night. Even if I slept off, they would stay on and have their own conversations. It was a diverse, motley crowd. They argued oftentimes, over this or that, but I admired their dedication, knowledge, experience, their energy and commitment. They have all become part of an emerging political ecosystem around my space. Only a few days away from Abeokuta, I miss them already: the women and their creativity with songs and ideas, the men and their knowledge of the terrain.  

I got a rude shock however, in December, when one of my new friends started pestering me to give him money to buy a ram.  

“Ram?  Se iyawo yin sese bi mo, e fe se ikomo ni?,” Has your wife just put to bed and you need support for the naming ceremony?, I asked.

“No. Rah – rah o, deputy, a fe fi se etutu ni.  We want to use the ram to make sacrifice of protection for you. You need some protection.” 

 What sacrifice? I couldn’t figure out what the man was driving at. But he was persistent. 

“It won’t cost you a lot of money. Just the money for the ram and something on top. You are our own Governor in Ogun Central as far as we are concerned. Many people have seen you. They are talking about you. We also have enemies within the party. There are cases in court. The party people in Abuja don’t like us. As your own people, we have to protect you. Nothing must happen to you. You can be sure the Ijebus will also protect their own son.” 

I waved it all off. December is a delicate month. That is when people use all kinds of trick to get  money for the festive season. January is even worse: school fees have to be paid in January. I told the man I was not interested in any ritual sacrifice. The blood of Jesus is sufficient for all Believers! He didn’t argue. He left quietly.  But he came back two days later, imploring me to give “Unto Caesar what is Caesar’s”. He said I should realize that Nigerian politics is like a Dinner with the Devil and that I would need to acquire a long spoon of my own if I was serious about getting a seat at the table. Before his return, another person, who described himself as a Good Samaritan, had also called to say he was bringing to me a charmed waistband which I should tie around my waist any time we were going out for campaigns. I rejected the offer. I told the man I had no plans to become a shamanist because of politics. Our conversation ended in the shape of an argument with him telling me that I didn’t know what I had put myself into. 

“Do you know what all those other people you sit down with have under their clothes? Deputy, Oju lasan ko se politics ni Nigeria yi oh. You must fortify yourself. You need ayeta (local bullet-proof charm), okigbe (protection against machete cuts) gbetugbetu (all-purpose Yoruba charm), awise afogbohun,, ma-y-e-hun (charms for commanding persons), eyonu, atewogba (charms for popularity and acceptance)…after the waist-band, we still have a lot to do. Agan ni kini yi, ko se da gbe! A jo ma gbe ni. We are in this thing together. Anybody whose friend is disgraced is the one who has been disgraced.” 

I was not scared, but I was worried that 21^stcentury Nigerian politics was beginning to sound like a return to the inter-tribal wars of the 14^thCentury. 

I wasn’t going to part with a penny for any amulet or sacrifice. I was left alone for a while. We organized political activities: visited key stakeholders, communities, arranged consultation meetings, we stormed the town and other parts of our Constituency. The women and my wife had their own group. They focused on markets and house-to-house campaigns. The only thing that worried me was that each time we went to some places, some members of the opposition will later call me to complain that they heard I was spending money and giving people gifts. I would deny of course but they would then proceed to mention the exact place, the person visited and what exactly happened. I became worried. I concluded that there was need to be very watchful. On more than one occasion, persons came to me to show me lists of voters, numbers of Permanent Voters Cards and the phone numbers of their owners. They claimed the voters were under their direct control and they could deliver entire wards and local governments.  They needed money to mobilize the owners of the voters’ cards. It sounded strange to me. I didn’t play ball.

Before long, one of my self-appointed protectors came and said he would like me to go to a church somewhere in Abeokuta. According to him, every politician had already visited the church and whatever the man of God pronounced would come to pass. I refused. If the man of God had already promised every Gubernatorial candidate, victory, why bother?  

The battle for the protection of my soul and life in politics later reached a peak when one of the initial protectors returned to say that even if we did not do anything, we needed to send Eshu on errand, and he had identified the Eshu in the Igbein quarters of Abeokuta as the most potent agent that will ensure our victory in the 2019 Gubernatorial polls. I tried to fence him off by showing off my knowledge of the Yoriuba belief system and traditions. I even chanted the panegyric of Eshu, the trickster-god, the two faced, Janus member of the Yoruba pantheon. “Eshu Laalu, onile orita, ogirimoko okunrin, a ba ni wa oran bi a ri da, elekun n sun ekun, Laaroye n sun eje…” Eshu is usually regarded as the equivalent of the Devil, but Yoruba Traditional Thought identifies him as an oxymoronic agent for both good and evil, an attribute translated as drama, form, antonym, and performance in Femi Osofisan’sEshu and the Vagabond Minstrels.  The man was not interested in my anthropological, hermeneutic analysis. I even told him that in actual fact, the most potent Eshu in Egbaland is in Imo, not Igbein and I told him… I was trying to pass a message across. The man flared up. 

“Eshu Igbein is very strong. If you give it what it wants. It will stand up and go out and deal with our enemies. It will bring us all the votes in Ogun State! It will go to every polling unit and vote.”

“Is it Eshu that will vote or the people of Ogun State? Is he a human being? Does he have a voter’s card?”, I inquired.

“Deputy, you don’t know this Eshu. After sending him on errand, you can’t come home straight. Otherwise, it will follow you. You must have a special, spiritual bath. Even then, three days later, it will still come to this house to give you a sign to show that he is already working.” 

“I don’t want Eshu to come here,” I said emphatically. 

“After he has worked for us, once you give him what he wants in return, he will go back. He is our best bet.” 

Olawale Folorunso and Bode Sowunmi who were with me and who had been listening to the argument over the proposed recruitment of Eshu as a polling agent eventually intervened. Bode Sowunmi wanted to know if the Eshu could survive in a compound with interlocking tiles and air conditioners and whether he would occupy one of our rooms. Wale thought the whole proposal was bizarre. Bode asked:

“Okay, Egbon, if you believe so much in this Eshu, why don’t you go and do the ritual and send Eshu on errand on behalf of Dr Abati and Senator Kashamu. You are a politician yourself and you are all in this campaign together. Dr says he doesn’t want Eshu in this matter.” 

“I am not the one running for Governor. I can’t spend my own money. Anybody that wants to be Governor must be ready to give Eshu his due,” the man insisted. 

I refused.