Independence And Bread Queues

 By Ugoji Egbujo

In the middle of the road, the van was parked. People gathered. It was Independence Day. The country was 64. The van was laden with bread. The hungry, young and old, filled the streets, panting. Soldiers were everywhere, as if the van was carrying bullion. Old women jostled and shuffled stoically. Nobody looked shamefaced. Their faces told the story of their helplessness. The people who brought the bread came with cameras. Perhaps they would love to be called Renewed Hope Missionaries.  One by one, lucky adults were handed a loaf each. One by one, they left. The crowd throbbed. 

The distribution happened in the middle of the road. Nobody cared. The priority was food. Everything else could as well be suspended. A loaf of bread costs N1500. The bread dispensers bounced about like they were extending the life expectancy of the people.  It was a worthy cause in these times of abject lack. Because they could have diverted it to a local market and fattened their purses.  So they deserved the gratitude from the genuflecting old men and women for the miserable handout. 

The situation is nebulous. The government likes to say that they inherited a mess. So whatever little effort they exert, they extol as heroic. The people are docile, willing to sleep on their rights rather than ruffle feathers. Many families can no longer feed. Some eat rice husks. The government says it’s reforming the economy. A country that built the first of its four refineries 60 years ago sat back, allowed them to go moribund and started to spend all its forex earnings on importing fuel. The president says it’s a global problem. Everything is whitewashed with cheap propaganda. Perhaps he believes that in other countries, people also queue to collect bread to celebrate independence. This disconnect between the government and the people isn’t just disheartening, its disillusioning. 

A few months ago, it was rice. It’s always rice. Recently, our dear president graciously gave state governors and ministers truckloads of rice to distribute. It wasn’t political handout for political jobbers and thugs. The poor are always on his mind. But he had to take away the subsidies to salvage the country. So once he hears their cries, he gives them a few plates of rice. In rice terms, 100,000 naira is a bag of rice. The government says it’s doing its best. Some say it’s trying to quench an inferno with spittle.  Nobody knows how many of those promised truckloads of rice have been shared and to whom.

But they have been recorded and celebrated. And that is perhaps all that is necessary.  We haven’t seen any scenes. When the Customs invited people to come to buy seized rice at cheap prices, half of the town turned up. The Customs officials were swamped. After a lucky few, it became impossible. The tsunami broke through the fence. The customs fled the stampede. We saw it. It was a remarkable feat of bravery by the Customs to ask the entirety of Lagos to come for rice. 

So those who shared the independence bread might have learnt some lessons. They didn’t make an announcement. Had they done that, a battalion of soldiers wouldn’t have saved them and their bread. The entire country is hungry. Most families can’t afford staple foods. But the president believes we have achieved the dreams of our ancestors. He doesn’t want us to dwell in our troubles.

We must put aside our hunger by all means possible and celebrate the feat achieved by our bumbling politicians in keeping the country divided and impoverished but out of war.  Perhaps, if they were as inept and greedy as we think, they would have plunged us into another civil war. That Independence Day bread would have reminded many Igbo elders of Biafra. During the war , famished people queued up to get measly rations from foreign donor agencies. Now, we are not at war, but increasingly our people live like refugees in their own houses. 

In the last one year, the government has shared cash with a frenzy. It started by sharing N8000 to 12 million households. In bread terms, N8000 is five loaves of bread and no fish.  Nobody knows how many households got the cash . Along the line the government listened to the mockers and changed the figure to N25, 000. In yam terms, that’s 3 tubers of yam. The government said the money was to cushion poverty. The entire country is in a flux. A vortex of political gimmickry and dubious philanthropy in the absence of carefully thought-out policies.

When the government shares money, a good chunk of it never reaches the poor. The minister who used to share these monies has been suspended because some monies travelled through a phantom Kogi airport and landed in private bank accounts. The government has become a notice-me relief agency. Many poor people lament the elusiveness of the palliatives. They  have never seen the rice. But no one knows why the government has not bothered to include stockfish and milk like the Caritas did during the civil war.  A government committed to self-congratulation should add baby food to the freebies.

At independence, we had hoped. Sixty-four years after we said the colonial masters were exploiting us and took matters into our own hands, we commemorate freedom by handing out loaves of bread to hungry and jobless citizens.  Little wonder many would rather flee to Europe through treacherous routes. There, they can live on food stamps and retain some dignity. Nearly everyone who can is fleeing.  Our president thinks we are living the dreams of our forefathers by losing our doctors, engineers and nurses to foreign lands to showcase our ingenuity. This misplaced sense of achievement is sad.

But not everyone has been unfortunate. Our politicians are living their best lives. Our president flies about in a new jet and religiously goes on vacations in London and Paris as if his ancestors were Europeans. We don’t begrudge him because he grew up in Chicago. It’s his time. It’s his lifestyle. We can’t expect him to downgrade to Obudu Cattle Ranch simply because he honoured our call  to serve us.

Our politicians are blessed. But it’s okay. They are enjoying life on our behalf. At least we can brag about that to Ghanaians and South Africans . They refer to us as  a Generator Republic just because 64 years after independence, we have remained a very dark country. At least we can hit them back where it hurts by saying that our president, ministers, legislators and governors are the richest politicians in Africa. Much richer than their wretched leaders who can’t make down payments for mansions  in Monaco. That’s something. That must be part of the realized dream of our great forefathers. 

With the benefit of hindsight independence only benefited our leaders. The masses would have had a better deal under our colonial masters.

*Egbujo is a commentator on public issues