Nigeria: When Stinginess Becomes A Virtue

 By Hudson Ororho

In  our first year in secondary school at St. Peter Claver College, Aghalokpe, Delta State, we read a book, under the watchful eyes of our Priest/Principal, Rev. Fr. Jeremiah Cadogan, SMA, titled: Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. If my recollection has not failed me, the book has two principal characters:  Scrooge and Manley. They were business partners.

*Obi

In the story, not much was said about Manley save that he was a good man. Scrooge, on the other hand was described as a mean and miserly fellow. He would give shishi to no one. He does not even respond to the Merry Christmas greetings from the locals, describing same as sheer humbug. He was even stingy to himself as he would not enjoy the traditional Christmas turkey. The locals despised him. In retrospect, I wonder if he ever wore a St. Michaels label or a Marks and Spencer shoes.

Midway through our studies, we were introduced to Shakespeares works. The first in the series we read was: The Merchant of Venice. Again, let me tickle my memory. In the book, Antonio, a successful ship merchant had a friend – Bassanio, who needed a loan. Antonio, whose ships were in the high seas had no immediate funds. However, Bassanio, with the approval of Antonio, approached Shylock for the loan. Shylock, a shrewd moneylender, was a mean and stingy fellow who nursed a grudge against Antonio. Shylock was stingy even to his own family. 

Little wonder therefore that his daughter, Jessica, stole his money and eloped with a lover man to enjoy the loot.  Shylock demanded, as collateral for the loan, a pound of Antonio’s flesh, if the loan is not repaid on the scheduled date. 

Antonio had a business misfortune and the loan could not be repaid. In court, it took the sagacity of erudite Portia, a lawyer pretender, to save Antonio’s life. Enough of foreign stinginess. Let us hurry back to Nigeria. 

Nigerians loathe stinginess. They love the generosity of the bullion vans. Reports from their delegates to the Abuja parties conventions suggest that the vans are loaded with dollars. This time, the vans are driven by the gladiators themselves. Heading for 2023. The vampires gave us no choice. It is the Calabar Masquerade with one head and two faces. The Devils Alternative. Angels and Demons. Scylla and Charybdis.

The gladiators know Nigerians too well. They have already further perfected the art of vote-buying during the party conventions. They have increased the offers and could make a higher counter-offers – if challenged in the field. It is horse-trading. It is gamble and every gambler knows the secret of survival (apologies to Kenny Rogers). They are battle- ready. The impoverished voters are salivating. They are hungry. Hunger inflicted on them by the gladiators themselves. It has its own lexicon stomach infrastructure.   

Then one man threw his hat into the ring. He could not match their dollars in Abuja. He foresaw it. He left them. He does not look affluent. He seems ill-prepared. He has no structure whatever that means. He owns no jet. He has no house in Dubai the new haven for looters. He owns only two pairs of unfancied shoes. He showed us his only house in Onitsha. The sitting room is sparsely furnished. His bedroom has one ordinary bed and a table where he does his work. He fixes his coffee and takes his breakfast for lunch to the office. He flies economy when he travels and would not lodge in a World of Astoria. Worst still, he would give shishi to no one to vote for him. He is stingy. He has no chance. You can verify the facts. 

But he is cerebral and carries a heavy burden in his heart. The burden of a nation that is not working. The burden of a consumption and not a production country. He offers hope. Hope for a new Nigerian. He is honest. He did not promise a new earth but believes he could rearrange the old one to make it work.

Nigeria has become a tale. A tale of contrasting oxymorons aptly captured in Charles Dickens Classic: A Tale of Two Cities.  In sum, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us. It is inconceivable how a country so endowed with rich human and natural resources could still slide into the abyss of self-destruction and oblivion. We are fighting a war of attrition on all fronts. It is sure road to failure. That was the mistake made by Napoleon Bonaparte in his 19th century European campaigns that proved to be costly and fell at Waterloo.

The present government – if there is one, has totally lost initiative. Nigeria is groping in the dark. It has been stolen blind by Ali Baba and the 40 thieves. The very same vampires who still seek to perpetuate the looting in 2023 and beyond. Nigeria is now a babianla,  a blind beggar with a probing stick being led by a child who should be in school or undertaking a vocation. Terrorist, bandits, kidnappers, ritualist, cultist, armed robbers, unknown gunmen, brigands, extortionist police and soldier collaborators bestride our land. We are in the Hobbesian state of nature where life is brutish, nasty and short. In his  famous work, There Was A Country, Chinua Achebe had envisioned the loss of a country.  The reality is now here.  

Then the people abandoned the bullion vans. They embraced stinginess. They believe in the hope he promised. They took the hope. The hope is not his personal property. It is the aspiration for a better Nigeria. It is their collective property. He became a mere symbol of that hope. Hope for a Nigeria that works. A secured Nigeria. Hope for jobs, for electricity, for our children to be in school. 

Hope, hope, hope. Hope restored their faith in a new Nigeria. Suddenly, they believe that their votes will count. They throng INEC offices to register, intent on voting out the predators. They believe the long awaited messiah has arrived. It is amazing how one man’s choice could change the course of history.  

Hope galvanised them into frenzy. He does not know them. They voluntarily contributed their own money. They hired offices and open vans mounted with music, singing and dancing along the major streets in our towns with his banner. They even celebrated his birthday. His birthday? No, it is the birthday of hope that they celebrated. 

It is a movement. He is not the movement. The movement has swallowed him. The movement is the structure. The structure of hope, not despair. The structure to rescue the soul of Nigeria, not one of fratricidal wars. A structure of secularism, not of fake bishops. A structure of humanity, not of vampires. This is the structure of new Nigeria.

His own people, frustrated by the Nigerian establishment, have lost hope of a Nigeria. They have rekindled their separatist agenda. It is fortuitous that he did not come from them. He came from Nigerians. He is a Nigerian without a clannish toga.

The beautiful ones no, the handsome one, is born. Behold him in 2023.

*Chief Ororho, an Obidient Nigerian, wrote from Sapele, Delta State.