The rage is all over. Our land is in turmoil. Everything is involved; almost everyone is culpable. Some of us are shouting. Others prefer to talk. Some others simply choose to speak. Many more even opt for discourse, parley, debate, dialogue, etc.
Still a sizeable but pitiable number of us are actually talking from both sides of their loud mouths. They are desperately churning out half-truths and/or total falsehood daily, particularly on the social media.
In the mean, the victims, the prey are crying, moaning and mourning. They are licking their deep wounds all alone. They are the ones at the receiving end. And they are reasonably spread across the land.
Pray, we have never been so divided as a nation state. Not even during the dark period of our 30-month crude and cruel civil war. We were never so divided along ethnic and religious lines, even though we were fighting a senseless war.
The land is bleeding. No section of the country is practically spared. These bandits, hoodlums, killers, murderers, herdsmen and their likes mean business. And they are pursuing it with everything at their disposal.
They do not care a hoot whose ox is gored or bruised. They are enjoying their sport. The more we cry our hearts out, the more fierce and ravening they become. The more the government keeps mum and mute, the more emboldened they turn out to be.
They get more energised when they see our blood flowing. That is all the inspiration they need. They are encouraged by our weeping, pain and sorrow. That is why they keep coming for more. They are insatiable wolves.
They have such unquenchable thirst for our precious blood and uncontrollable hunger for our flesh. They are not of this age. They are meant for the stone and dark ages. They would always want to have their way.
Ruga was the climax and the anti-climax at the same time. Srange? Ruga was the ultimate. It activated and escalated the hue and cry. It took it to the next level of hullaballoo.
Thank God for Ruga; we are eternally grateful. We were giving up until it woke us from our slumber. These deadly characters, they almost had their dubious way on us. But for Ruga, we would have been cowed permanently.
Ruga came on board. It was actually smuggled in from the blues. And we are glad with what it did. That is the saviour and it came in the nick of time.
Everybody was excited. We were preparing for Ruga’s final burial rites. Just then the bandits did one more time what they know how to do best. They surfaced at Kajola village on the Benin-Ore highway. They had laid ambush, preying on their targets.
Their effort paid off in the daughter of Pa Reuben Fasoranti. That was a big catch. They must not miss it. The target, Mrs. Funke Olakunrin, was very strategic to their mission and calling. She was daughter to Pa Fasoranti, leader of the pan-Yoruba socio-cultural organisation, Afenifere.
Perhaps, when they realised who their victim was, they became more excited and ruthless. For them, that operation was the ultimate. It was the grandmother of all their operations in recent times. They would not get such harvest always.
The murder of Olakunrin did these bandits in. It fuelled the fire started by Ruga. It put plenty of salt in our deep injuries. We could not stomach it any longer. It is irritating and nauseating.
We were overwhelmed on all fronts. And we adequately showcased it in our utterances and outcries. We poured out vehemently like never before. We were resolved in our decision. These hoodlums must be contained and curtailed.
Everybody who is a patriot got involved. They promptly rose to the occasion. We fumed and are still fuming; we yelled and continue to yell. We won’t be discouraged. We won’t be cajoled. We won’t rest on our oars.
The whole land has been turned upside down. We are witnessing another Babel, live and direct. But unlike the biblical Babel, we are not confused; we are focused.
Ours is not noise, but voices of reason and wisdom. We are not babbling for its sake. Nor are we just yelling and screaming for nothing.
This time around, former President Olusegun Obasanjo was right on point. You can only ignore that letter at your peril. He wrote directly to our problems. Friends and foes were united. They unanimously agreed it was the best letter to ever come out of the Obasanjo Presidential Library.
For all intents and purposes, it was well articulated and marshalled. No ambiguity. No self-adulation, no grandstanding. It spelt out the issues and provided profound solutions to them.
It hit the huge nail on its very big head. Again, do not throw away the bath water with the baby. You may decide to snub Obasanjo, or abuse him, but hold on to his message. It will do us some good.
What keeps one agitated is the attitude of these irredeemable and unrepentant apologists. They keep holding forth for these killer Fulani herdsmen. They pile heaps of excuses on why they are wreaking havoc on their host communities.
They strive hard to provide mundane reasons for the herdsmen’s weird and cruel activities. What is actually the matter with these apostles of Fulani herdsmen?
Muhammadu Buhari is not the first Nigerian President of Fulani extraction. Shehu Shagari was one, so was Umaru Yar’Adua. So, what is the big deal with Buhari? I wonder.
Yar’Adua, a Fulani, stopped the militants in the South-South, using Goodluck Jonathan, his Ijaw deputy. Jonathan built almajiri schools in the remotest parts of the North, using his deputy, Namadi Sambo, a northerner.
Why did this government discontinue this process? Why can’t Buhari pick a useful lesson from these? Why are these killers being treated with kid gloves? I ask again, why did we allow this mess to get to this awful level? Every fabric strenuously put into building this nation by our founding fathers is being dismantled effortlessly.
We are genuinely concerned. We are feeling the heat. We are under siege. The situation is critical under alert. There is an urgent need for control. These bad times must go away.
Our fervent prayer: God, let this deadly cup of rage and hysteria pass over us unhurt. Pray…