Last week, I watched the American Democratic Party’s National Convention on TV. It took place in Chicago and was so uplifting.  

A clutch of famous Democrats – Barack Obama, Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey and Hillary Clinton included – took to the vast stage to deliver stirring speeches and warm endorsements of presidential hopeful, Kamala Harris, and her running mate, Tim Walz.

Everything one could possibly hope for from a mass political gathering was happening in that stadium: The cool, upbeat music, the cheering swaying crowd, the beaming faces of delighted delegates representing every single United States of America…some so moved by the historic occasion that they had tears in their eyes. 

From the distant bedroom in Abuja in which I was remotely monitoring the show, I could feel the high-octane energy and joyful optimism in the convention venue.

The vibrant buzz was absolutely infectious; and I felt elated and envied the on-site audience for having so much fun and being able to hear, first hand, about the ideals their party holds dear and the policies it intends to embrace if Harris and Walz win the election.

BUT I also experienced the conflicting emotion of sadness.

As a long-time admirer of Kamala Harris, a stylish and cerebral lawyer who has both African and Indian roots (and Igbo in-laws!), I’d have loved to be there to celebrate, up close, the first-ever woman of colour being crowned as the great Democratic Party’s candidate.

But my sadness wasn’t JUST or even mostly about the fact that I hadn’t been invited (as if I ever stood a chance!). I didn’t JUST envy those who were there because they were lucky enough to be there.

The main cause of the gloom that eclipsed my elation at intervals was the fact that Nigerian conventions are NOTHING like this.

The shortest distance between Nigeria and the US is 6,630 miles. But it feels to me as if we are actually MILLIONS of miles apart…or on different planets entirely.

I have personally attended – as a media observer – quite a few Nigerian conventions (PDP as well as APC) over the years. And I’ve always found them pretty depressing.

There are no inspiring, heroic speeches or firm ideological stances. There is, instead, plenty of murky gossip about aspirants and incumbents who are bribing delegates…many of whom completely lack integrity and are ready to sell their votes to the highest bidder.

To be honest, I totally understand the cynicism of these transactional delegates. Some of them are nice people who would have been more principled in a different environment.

But they have bills to pay and children to feed/educate, and impoverished relatives to take care of in a country that has no proper welfare system for the downtrodden or average.

And it’s extremely difficult to earn a credible income in Nigeria in decent ways. And nothing ever changes for the better in this dubious political environment when it comes to ethics and performance. Governance here is mostly about cabals gaining access to purse strings and enriching themselves and their cronies.

That’s why the refineries don’t work. That’s why power cuts are still widespread and frequent. That’s why so many dysfunctions prevail. That’s why no matter how much suffering citizens complain, the elite continues to be predatory. That’s why a nation with abundant resources that should be a huge success is floundering.

So if you get an opportunity to become a junior crony or delegate and insist on rejecting bribes from rapacious politicians we all know are not going to do much (or anything) for the society as a whole, you are on your own o!

Firstly, you might even be victimised or arrested on trumped-up charges for offending various Big Boys by refusing to participate in the corrupt jamboree that is the average Naija political convention.

You’ll also face hostility from other delegates who feel guilty for selling out or regard you as a sanctimonious ass hole who deserves a few slaps or are simply afraid that you will whistle-blow if you are not a fellow bribe recipient and therefore not a member of their club.

Secondly, your lone voice in the wilderness is not going to change anything. The point you are trying to make will be drowned out by a majority that is allergic to principles and fond of skulduggery.

So, yeah, it’s easier to just take the money.

Suicidal protesters

Farooq Kperogi is one of  my favourite commentators. And I cannot improve on his eloquence, so let me just directly quote some comments he has made about the EndBadGovernance protests.

I heartily agree with him and am so upset about the revelation that some Northern protesters WANTED to die:

“…The misery that Tinubu’s simultaneous policies of never-before-seen astronomical petrol price increase and devaluation of the naira unleashed on the country are felt more deeply in the North than in any part of the country because of the pre-existing multidimensional poverty in the region and the pervading insecurity that makes farming almost impossible.

“Money is now both hard to find and worthless when it is found, and food is both hard to find and unaffordable when it is found. That is an unprecedentedly profound, not to mention unsurvivable, existential torment.

“Two days after the #EndBadGovernance protests started, I told someone that many people in the North have been rendered so desolate, so destitute, and so despondent by the economic crunch that they are looking to cash in on the protests to commit suicide by police bullets because Islam forbids suicide.

“Islam teaches that committing suicide guarantees an unfettered passage to the hottest depths of hell fire in the hereafter. I said many people who couldn’t survive the pain and humiliation of perpetual hunger might tempt security forces to shoot them so they could end it all and not fear that they would provoke the wrath of their Creator for committing suicide.

“Of course, this is twisted thinking because a famous hadith, which every Muslim who took Islamic Studies in secondary school knows, says: “Actions shall be judged according to intention.”