Broadcasters
On the strength of his exploding influence in politics and public admnistration as Minister, Federal Capital Territory, Mr Nyesom Wike could not imagine that anything or anybody, except President Bola Tinubu, could stand on his way.
By his actions, by his words, his combustible words that reduce a family man to a weeping boy before him, Wike was an indomitable lion that bows to no one except Tinubu, at least since Tinubu handed him the key of Abuja. Wike is aware of his status and owing no one apology for being himself, an emperor whose order carries fire like Sango, god of thunder, did in his lifetime.
Nothing lasts forever. So they say. Wike’s reign of an extreme self-importance came to an abrupt end yesterday to the delight of his waiting critics, some of whom reacted spontaneously as though they had been victims of his tongue.
Quite unexpectedly and apparently to his disbelief, he met his match in a Naval officer who refused to be moved by the pull of his insult. The officer stood his ground and broke Wike’s bottle of ego on the spot. He taught him that ariwo ko ni action. He taught him to be civil, to be couteous and respectful to fellow humans. That’s the message I took away from that theatre.
Could anybody have called Wike a fool and gone away with it? Only God knows number of people he may have humiliated through verbal assault behind the curtain? Only God knows also number of security operatives who may have betrayed the pride and honour of their uniform to please him and remain in his good book. Only God knows.
Merit or otherwise of the Naval officer’s assignment at that scene of drama yesterday is not as important to me as the high-voltage exchanges that exposed Wike as one living below the expected level of maturity his office requires to handle such an emergency that connects with our armed forces integrity as well as national security.
Dear reader, please, don’t mind me. Don’t mind other opinion writers and analysts too. Don’t mind us at all. In a couple of days now, the noise over the matter would subside; the Sun will rise from the East, set in the West and life goes on. You go to Wike’s residence in Abuja or Port-Harcourt, you may meet the same Naval officer in mufti, laughing and taking a sip from a glass of red wine. That is Nigeria, my dear country.
