Tanimomo’s Piece of Mind (TPoM): There is (no) Hope!
You got tired of your country’s politics and newspaper sites. You had been reading stories upon stories of the thieving politicians and their cronies. It’s sadenning, you thought to yourself. You moved on to Linda Ikeji’s blog. You liked her blog. Her reporting is succinct and many times funny. You like everything about her though you pretend not to like the lewd stories. You are a Christian; a born-again Christian.
So you closed the many tabs you had opened and typed in your favorite blogger’s blog. You simply read on. Then you saw a post about an actor, Chidi. A Nollywood actor, popular but not popular enough to get into the A–list. Gabriel, your friend called him a B–plus actor. You got interested in the post and clicked to enlarge it. There he was! Your B–plus actor had sworn to waste any escaped Ebola victim!
You shook head and asked what about empathy and sympathy. It could have been him! In fact, you wished it was him who had the virus! Yes! Chidi the mottled face tall actor who the screen has a way of making handsome. You had seen him before. His face is not light and not dark. You thought of the vicissitude of a face that day you saw him on the island in a lounge. You knew there was a problem with your country. He was supposed to be a role–model and an inspiration not one who swore in twits to snatch life out of victims of the ravaging Ebola virus!
You read on. Then you saw the President, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, in black dress and a hat to fit, smiling away at the camera. The Vice-President was a grinning from ear to ear. They were at a movie premiere; the movie premiere of one of the actresses you like. That actress who studied French. She was good, not very popular but popular.
You had no problems with her. She had to premiere her movie, Ebola or no Ebola, but you were disappointed at your President. *Wine babbler!*, you screamed. You were tired. You picked your bag and left for school. There were term-papers to write and deadlines to keep.
That evening. A friend invited you to a buffet in company of more friends. All guests were your country-people so it was normal to talk about your country. Discussion started.
The President was a bad man, a wreckless hedonistic fellow.
Then he countered. A Professor of Music that came visiting. He raised his voice an actave higher. He was all that we heard now. He sang the praises of the President to high heavens. YOu were sure even the President would have cautioned: Prof, please be careful with these many good things you say about me. I know they are not all true!
You kept quiet and watched. You laughed as the argument intensified. You were not going to get involved in this conversation. A friend countered the Prof.
You watched and listened as your friend took it *personal* You knew the anger was not about him. It was about the innocent children he would birth into Nigeria; children who would willingly never choose to be born Nigerian if given the option!
They argued on. By now, you knew the positions of the discussants. Did I even mention that the Prof was A Man of God? You had actually lost faith in many religious leaders of your country because they kept taking an easy side to issues.
You read a post. Another professor. You like this professor. He is not the professor of Music; he studied French. His voice hadn’t changed. He still spoke sense. He still loathed corruption. You read wallposts of mentors and role–models. Their posts still had the encouraging valve. You read posts of other good friends. They were still coherently sensible. Ade’s post was your favorite; he called it *Ngozinomics*. His position was clear: *Western economic programmes wouldn’t work for Nigeria! There is hope, you concluded.