What was all that noise about Yusuf Buhari? by Viola Okolie

What was all that noise about Yusuf Buhari? by Viola Okolie
the photo that launched a million orgasms
The photo that launched a million orgasms

So Yusuf Buhari came to town…

… and for one embarrassing internet minute (which is actually almost a century long in real terms), a certain percentage of the female population completely lost their senses.

They offered up their ovaries for implantation and swore that if they had known Buhari had a son who was “this handsome” he would have gotten at least an extra one million votes more than he did.

Okay, initially, I looked at the guy and could not determine what it was about him that was making all the ladies go gaga. Perhaps it was the angle from which I was viewing his picture. So, I turned it this way and that. I stood my device on its head, then stood on my own head. However I swung it though, I did not see what was inducing multiple orgasms in a nauseating portion of otherwise reasonable young ladies.

“Breaking the Internet”, they said.

Well, give me an Idris Elba any day. Those muscles, that piercing gaze… plus the fact that he has his own money – verifiable income.

Maybe a Djimon Hounsu, an acquired taste perhaps, but a self-made man nevertheless.

I could go on and on but I thought about it and in all fairness to myself and him, since I had campaigned vigorously against his father, I felt it could be a terrible case of bad belle. And so I took some mist mag and slept on it. I woke up after a few hours sure the medicine must have taken some effect, took another look and still, it was not quite “werking” for me. Try as I might, I could not get it and to make matters worse, some “wit” put up a picture of the poor young man and a lady and said, “sorry ladies, Yusuf has been taken. Here he is with his fiancee, go offer your ovaries to someone else”.

*dramatic sigh*

You see, with all that unwarranted drama, we suddenly reduced all the efforts of the suffragettes to zilch. The right to cast your vote just like the men and make it count was suddenly reduced to, “if the man has a dashing son, we will act the floozy and dash him our votes in the hopes that the son will look at, maybe, four of us”.

We reduced women to a bunch of emotional, dim-witted nit-wits who sat at home on election day watching repeats of Telemundo because they did not know one of the contestants had a son who was a “fine boi”. Had we known, one million more of us would have come out and cast our votes for him. Of course being women, we are superficial like that, what the candidate himself has to offer means little or nothing to us.

In those few moments of madness, we unwittingly left ourselves open to living the prejudices we had fought hard to displace, and the thing vex me no be small.


How old is the boy?
Who is he? I do not mean as in “Buhari’s son”, I mean who is he as a human being? 
What does he do for a living? 
What has he achieved? 
What can we hold him to account to and for?

Nna, kwelshuns many, but the worst for me was that I could imagine some men nodding their heads and going: you see them ba? You see a supposedly “fine boy” and you are going gaga. That is how you women will always chase the superficial and when you have been “used and dumped” several times, you will set up a blog where you spend 99% of your time ranting at men.

Maybe in a perverse way, it was good to see a man being objectified for being nothing more than a pretty face, I mean PSquare has the pretty face plus talent thing going for them and as for Flavor N’abania… whoa… wait small abeg, make I go baff ice water.

Seriously sisters, and this is me wearing my “Aunty Fawola” shades, we lost it with that over-hyping, we seriously did but guess what, sometimes even the best of us lose it.

And to make it worse, less than 48 hours later, a certain Muhammed Kabir Hadejia sends out an SOS.

“There’s a picture of myself and my sister that has gone viral on the internet with people claiming it is Yusuf Buhari, the son of the president. I see news pages on Facebook & Twitter spreading the false. I strongly deny it and I would like you to spread the news that in the picture it is me, not Yusuf Buhari. I take this issue very dangerous to my safety and, hopefully, you will help me.”

While I do not know what he meant by “taking the issue dangerous to his safety”, una see una selves ba? Like this were a real life situation, you would have donated free osho because you thought he was The President’s son and you were on your way to releasing an official portrait from the office of The First Girlfriend.

Kind of reminds me of a certain driver I once had and had to let go because he would go “hunting” with his official car. A man who could not string together a reasonable sentence in decent English would bed girls whose false nail polish he could not afford to buy – because he was driving a big car at the time he chyked them.

See ehn, listen, let us just resolve not to do that again, you hear?

Good girls!

Okay, now I expect those people who think we are still in campaign season to jump on board and accuse me of being a sore loser, bad belle, sour grapes, etc…

Let the accusations fly, Odeshi!

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  1. vanessa

    Comment…dis trouble maker vio,u mean dat guy was not buhari’s son?Chineke!kele wu gini?uwa ntooor!(sorry,dats nkwerre igbo)ask viola 4 interpretation

  2. Ibinabo

    Women of easy virtues looking for who to swoop in for their selfish interests. Tomorrow, they will because; he is handsome bla bla bla. Handsome boys can’t be trusted.

    Truth is women hardly learn, even if they do, a very few percentage of them does.

  3. Phunkified

    I think the writer took the online reaction too seriously. Haba! The comments I read only made me laugh, not angry or critical. No one knew Buhari had a son so to just see a grown guy like that show up caused quite the excitement. I think it’s the love People have Buhari they transferred to his son, same way when Zara ‘showed up’. Let’s be easy on ourselves….nevertheless the boy is fine, maybe not break the Internet kinda but fine all the same.


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