October 15, 2018

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Senator Dino Melaye, what is all this drama and red socks? – Viola Okolie

Senator Dino Melaye, what is all this drama and red socks? – Viola Okolie

Dear Senator Dino Melaye,

I do not even know where to start with this, but it is high time that Nigerians inform you that we have cottoned on to your tricks and are sick and tired of being labeled by the antics of ordinary Nigerians hustling to make a living; then return to endure the ignominy of elected and selected leaders who cannot act with a little bit of decorum.

Where do I start?

Perhaps with my deep consternation every time you kick off one of your drama antics again. I quickly reboot my memory to see if perchance you sneaked into the Department of Theatre and Performing Arts to take one of the Theatre Workshop classes as an elective? The answer is “No”.

So, why all the drama?

Who died and made you the Drama King of Nigeria?

You posture like you are advocating for the masses and it is so easy for people to almost turn gullible and let you lead them along by the nose ring, until they come to the realization that all you have had to show for your long years of stewardship to the good people of Kogi West, is a culvert – hurriedly rechristened a “bridge”, and drama.

Lots and lots of drama.

Your reluctance to even acknowledge that your office as a Senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria; and as one of the erstwhile ‘Lazy Nigerian Yoot’ who needed to set a standard and show a difference to the relics that have refused to relinquish their grasp on power in Nigeria; requires at the least a semblance of decorum and an attempt to always present yourself as a reason why the youth should be trusted with responsibility, makes it impossible for any but the die hard politician’s vuvuzela, to feel even the slightest twinge of sympathy for you.

Before I am accused of bad belle or sour grapes or any other wildly ludicrous claim by your minions, let me quickly say that the “anti-corruption” mask you wear, is a hilarious attempt to keep yourself front and center in the minds of Nigerians (whom you obviously think are gullible), so that when kasala bursts as it is wont to, you will have a lot of people willing to print tee-shirts with your name and face on it, and either stand, sit, or lie supine with you.

A couple of years ago, before you won the Kogi West senatorial seat and shortly after you had been unceremoniously flung out of the House of Representatives; I listened in to a call-in program where you were supposed to be the guest of the day. You spoke much and said nothing in typical Dino fashion, but one thing that would always stick in my mind, was your response to a caller who honestly wanted to know, the source of your stupendous wealth.

Someone who was truly anti-corruption – and who knew the need to ensure that a people who had been so battered by corrupt leaders to an extent that Nigeria’s borders are wide open now but facing outwards as the middle class flee the artificial lack in the midst of plenty occasioned by generations of wasteful and profligate leaders could relate with at least one person with an identifiable source of wealth who nevertheless wanted to identify with the masses – would have taken his time and patiently explained and outlined a verifiable trail of income that would lead from almost having nothing in one minute, to buying cars with the sum of money that could pay the backlog of owed salaries in his home state.

What did you, “anti-corruption” czar do? You took your time and proceeded to curse out the person who asked that question. You insulted his lineage and his generations past and present. You suggested it was abject and intense poverty that could make him ask such a question (how ironic). You went further to shove it deeper down his throat by listing all the luxury cars you had (no attempt to mention the “how” of the matter) …

… it was appalling.

I switched off my radio and shook my head.

Na so!

Today, that same you, is masquerading as the anti-corruption, voice of the voiceless, and expect the hustling, hungry yet termed “lazy” Nigerian youth to take a break from foraging for his daily bread, to come and fight for the rich as they cry in their red and yellow Christian Dior outfits that could perhaps, pay that same poor man’s annual salary, for the next three years.

How entitled can one inexplicably “wealthy” man feel?

Dear Dino, Patron Saint of Yellow and Red Tablets,

Why do you think it makes sense for an ordinary Nigerian, who is daily harassed by police men for anything from not paying N50 at a traffic check point, to not producing N100 to avoid being labelled a “wanderer” and thrown into jail while trekking home after a hard day’s work; to be bothered about the withdrawal of your police detail?

Oh, your police was withdrawn? Ndo. We no kuku get police escort before before, so it is difficult to empathize.

Why do you think that you are setting a good example for the youth by resorting to theatrics rather than honoring the invitation to go and explain yourself with relation to the messy arms issue swirling around your name?

You don’t get it? We saw through your underhand moves to run away from Nigeria and claim “exile” for alleged political persecution – don’t you gerrit? Nigerians have been spending sleepless nights at embassies trying to get one of them to allow themselves to be used by God to work a miracle in their lives and grant them a get out of jail free card out of this shithole – ©Donald J. Trump – and you expect them to be bothered about you who when you finally make it to the abroading, will miss important meetings, be rumored to be carrying “two hands” up and down, will be parading the streets modelling your Johnny Bravo inspired couture, and then spend the rest of your spare time dancing and singing praises to “god” in your posh hotel rooms.

Then after we watch all these theatrics, we will return to soak our garri and salt and the same you will not allow us soak it in peace?

Taaa!

Looking at your outfit on the day of the “great escape”, it is hard to imagine that this whole charade was not choreographed from the onset. Who else leaves their house dressed in a pair of red striped socks shoved into a pair of red crocs?

If you had tried green, I would have thought “The Grinch, trying to steal our Christmas fawul”, but the red made me pause a bit and then I got it.

Red socks and red crocs?

Superman.

Ergo, the attempt to fly out of the back of the police van. Pity you forgot to don your cape as you left the house. Who knows, you may have been faster than a speeding bullet, etc etc.

As it stands now, “Where is Waldo?”

Waldo was last seen in the National Hospital Abuja, lying supine, strapped to a hospital bed and heavily guarded by his erstwhile paddy paddy for life, Baba Buhari’s police men.

Enjoy it all, Dino. What you worked so hard for, has begun to yield dividends.

PS: Your apology to Jonathan? Shove it where the sun don’t shine. You must be full of it hoping to prey on the vacuum the ex-GEJites are currently experiencing in their partisan journey to whip up sentiments. You and your advisers must not be well. Epp us and take your apology, squeeze it into a small ball, moisten it with KY and stick it….

I forget what I was about to say.

Bye, bye.

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