The wahala started the other day when the Indigenous (Ingenuous?) People of Biafra (IPOB) issued a sit-at-home order asking everybody not to go anywhere yesterday, September 14, 2018 but sit at home and be watching African Magic, Telemundo, Zee World, Al Jazeera and CNN, NEPA or no NEPA, whether Alhaji Babatunde Raji Fashola performs or fails to perform, whether he keeps his promise or not.
But on Monday, September 10, the Imo State Police Command, led by the state Commissioner of Police, Mr. Dasuki Galadanchi, issued a warning and a counter-order during a joint news conference by heads of security agencies in the state, urging residents to disregard the earlier order issued by IPOB announcing yesterday as a remembrance day for Biafran heroes. He followed it up by saying that the security agencies would begin “a show of force” in the state the following day, Tuesday, September 11, (of all days in the world?), to send a signal to IPOB members.
He also warned that the Police Command in Imo would arrest anybody breaking the law by observing the sit-at-home order issued by IPOB. Now, since yesterday, my family has been picking quarrels with me for obeying the police or security agencies’ order not to sit at home.
Brothers and Sisters in Crisis, I never envisaged that I would run into trouble with anybody for obeying what I thought was a simple order until I was served my morning breakfast, comprising coloured water (tea?), Agege bread and garden egg.
Normally, before this order and counter-order of a thing came into being, I used to sit down jejely, relax ‘well well’ and drink the tea comprising one measure of “Who-sent-you?” cup of hot water, plus half teaspoon of Milo and one quarter sachet of Dano Milk (the kind they sell N30 per sachet). Now, you can understand why I called it coloured water.
But following the police order not to sit at home, I stood near the table to drink the tea. I had taken the first, second and third gulps when my daughter confronted me.
“Daddy, what are you doing? Sit down now and drink your tea. Will it run away if you don’t stand up to drink it?” she asked.
“I know it won’t run away but you see, I am trying to obey the Police order not to sit at home. With the Police, order is order.”
“Haba, Daddy, it is not what they mean.”
“That’s your own interpretation. You never really get to know the true interpretation and application of the law until you are arrested by the Police. But I am not going to wait until that happens, until I am arrested for disobeying the law.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I am going to keep standing in this house today until the police come to tell me that I got the whole thing wrong, that this is not what they mean when they asked us to disregard the sit-at-home order.”
“Ok o, Sir, please yourself!” With that, she walked away.
But Brothers and Sisters in Crisis, that was not the end of my trouble throughout yesterday. In fact, it was the beginning. Shortly after that encounter, my wife, nay our two boys, were to switch on our GoTV set, following the usual flashing (Fash-ing?) of NEPA light by Fashola people. When they changed the channel, first to Telemundo, my wife saw me standing. Then, they changed it to African Magic before settling down with Zee World. I was still standing.
“Darling, is there anything wrong somewhere? Why are you standing?”
“Not, not all!.”
“Then come and sit down”
“No, thanks. I am obeying the Police order.”
“What did you just say?”
“I say I am obeying the police order not to sit at home” “Police order? What does that mean?”
“Mummy, please, help me ask am o,” my daughter said. “Daddy has been standing like Standard Bank since morning. In fact, he drank his tea standing up. In the afternoon, he ate the eba we served him with Okro soup, still the same way – standing up.”
“Ah, I needed to,” I said, “I don’t want to end up in another Okro soup by sitting at home. That’s why I am standing up.”
Perplexed, my wife asked. “Ok, the Police said you should go about your normal business. How are you going to obey that order?”
“Simple, by going to pub houses to while away time. And, by going from one political party to another to attend political rallies as part of the rented crowd, abi, beko?” (Yoruba for ‘not so?’).
“One can understand the bit about going from one political party rally to another and pledging allegiances (alliances?) here and there without meaning a word of it,” my wife said, “but going to pub houses to while your precious time?, won’t the Police arrest and charge you for being a member of IPOB if you do that?”
“Don’t worry,” I chipped in. “When we get to the police station or court we will settle all that. After all, we are all trying to disregard the sit-at-home order, aren’t we?”
RE: POLITICIANS WITH NO FIXED POLITICAL ADDRESS
Your reference to politicians wandering from one political party to another as if they are struck with wanderlust reminds me of Sokugo, the wandering disease in Cyprian Ekwensi’s novel, Burning Grass. Maybe they are struck with political Sokugo
– Isaac Gillam, 07032264604, Jos, Plateau State