OF FRAUDURIA AND HYPOCRISY
The words above reminds me of all that Yorubaland in particular and Nigeria in general has been doing to me for almost three decades now, as of today.
Initially, they would call me a cheat - all because I would that I know the streets even after having earned a university degree. Yet, they were and are so much of the cheats that even till date, they even now can't help craning their giraffe necks to see what is happening in my own privacy and in my own personal space - to the extent where even the nudity of my mind is considered by them as their property; to the extent where they then, when the evil began that had their demented envy take my life as that which they all had to destroy, they all were wont to call each other peeps, even on the very pages of newspapers and magazines.
After a while, they added to the list of supposedly justifiable insults with which they all were wont to address me, the tag, "olojukokoro." Covetous.
Yet, even that tag was most incredibly soon justified as that which they most especially deserved - what with the "emi gan" and the "emi na" ("even me" and "me too") with which they kept on betraying their enviously coveting all that which I was, all that which I am, all that which I would that I be.
That I was blessed by my Creator with a most privileged background, they all started running around to see how to speak also with "refined" accents (to use the word they all most often love to use) and to have associates too, with the privileged background of mine that they all envy so much.
That I have earned a university degree, they all started running up and down too, to see how to be able to claim also that they're as educated as I am - even when they in absolutely no way have seen any of the four walls of absolutely any school whatsoever.
That I happen to write so beautifully and so well (even according to the testimony of so many of their educated elites) they all turned me into a lab rat and a guinea pig - with absolutely all my privacy and my personal space exposed to them - that they may begin to thereby see how it is that I came about such exquisitely crafted writings, even when they’re not being more honest with their abject dishonesty by plundering of me these writings, even when they’re not being more honest with their demented jealousy by destroying these writings.
That I intend to further my education to the extent where I'll have three doctorate degrees in my kitty, even if I'm presently just a little bit too old to eventually become a professor, they also began their usual chorus of "emi na" and "emi gan" - to that dementedly shameless extent where, even when they're honest enough to see their brains simply can't stand the rigours of academia, their chorus becomes "omo wa na" and "omo wa gan." Our children too. Even our children.
Thus, all that I would that I be now has to belong to their covetous selves and to their demented children. But I am the "olojukokoro!"
And that's the extent to which the shameless dishonesty of these peeping thieves gets, that would I be known as the peep because I'm privy to newspapers, magazines, social media, and the internet. For that's one of the shameless means with which they strive to destroy my life.
All that I would that I be, is that which they all scurry round to become - whilst they all at the same time strive hard to make sure that I don't attain that end. Despite whatever millions or billions that they already have in their bank accounts, that has them keep on feeling they have the right to insult or deride me. From organisations that I would I become a part of, to jobs that I apply for, to even schools that I would I study in. All these now are for them, as far as they all are concerned. But, definitely, none is for me. Or so they all work hard to see.
The Rosicrucian Order (AMORC) is a most typical example of the covetous cunning I refer to, with which this damned people strive to destroy my life.
When it was obvious in Ibadan that the Rosicrucian Order had accepted me into its fold, the people of Ibadan in particular (and of Yorubaland and Nigeria in general) plundered of me, with all the stealth of the devious fraudsters they all are, all that which I needed to actualise my membership of the Order. And then - despite the fact that they all already belonged to all manner of street gangs most especially, and of other esoteric groups also - they all thronged into the Rosicrucian Order.
Thus began the advent of the "oclub" movement on the streets of Nigeria - that always had their gangs; but that just had to be that which Ikoro Iyineleda would that he be, whilst destroying any chances of his attaining that end.
And if only that were the only means with which this despicable nation strives to destroy my life. There're so many others, innumerable in fact, just too numerous to mention.
My adventures in the field of academia is another most typical example of how this despicable evil that is Nigeria keeps on striving to destroy my life. If it is not "Me too will get a doctorate degree," or "My children too will become professors," it is as shameless as "My children too will graduate from Harvard."
I mean! Don’t they have universities in their own country? Are there no other universities in the world? Why then is it the Harvard University that I’m interested in that they all instantly also vie for? Don’t they have careers in business, entertainment, sports, and the like that they keep on pounding their chests over excelling in - and over having cut me out of? Why then is it my own humble exultations in writing and in academia that their ever-jealous brains can now deem fit to covet?
And if only all they did was covet. If only all they did was attain due to the coveting. But when their irredeemable lunacy keeps on having them strive to thwart my own aspirations! little wonder all you have to do is scroll up this channel to see but a few of the curses that I will ever keep on laying upon Nigeria in general, and Yorubaland in particular.
I would be studying at the Kenneth Dike Library of the University of Ibadan, during my brief period of studying for an MBA at that university; and - right beside the library - a group of delinquent nuisances would be playing football with all the derisive noise they can make, all (not so obviously, then) to disturb my studies.
Obviously enough, however, when they began to carry their noise-making nuisances to each and absolutely every neighbourhood wherein I dwelt in Nigeria - from the Mato in Ibadan where I lived whilst I was working on the MBA referred to above, to my father's house at Alegongo-Akobo in Ibadan when I eventually moved back there, and where at least two night-clubs stubbornly kept on disturbing the peace of the neighbourhood throughout the night, to Mapaderun at Bode-Wasinmi in Ibadan when I moved in with my cousin, and even all the way down to Akure where I presently live. All manner of nuisances keep on holding sway with their noise, at each and absolutely every one of all these neighbourhoods - all to destroy the peace of mind with which I would be able to study; even as they bragged of in Akure, as being the reason behind their disturbances. All to destroy whatever literary and academic ambitions I may have. All to be able to say of me, "He did nought." Even as they already have begun to say of me, "Ko gbodo." He must not.
And the cunning with which they all strive to destroy all that I am is so deviously subtle, even the very Devil would admire them. To the extent where, even today, when an ordinary "congo" (bowl) of raw beans costs up to N5,500, I'm earning a pension from the Oyo State Government of N39,000.
Ordinary beans! N5,500! I've not included rice, or garri, or bread, or plantain, or yam, or vegetable oil, or palm oil, or plates, or cutlery, or any of the others with which one may live on homemade cooking - even should one be of the mind that eating outside is too expensive. I've not included transport fares, which all have either tripled or quadrupled or worse ever since the removal of fuel subsidy in Nigeria. I've not included the cost of clothing, or shelter - and I have to say here that the house wherein I presently live in Akure was rented at a round figure of a million naira. And I'm supposed to live on a pension of N39,000!
If not for The LORD.
And this is the same way the subtle cunning of this demented people had me living on a pittance for over fifteen years, whilst I was working for the Oyo State Post-Primary Schools Teaching Service Commission as a high school teacher. A terrible pittance that had me unable to do anything with my life but live from hand to mouth. For almost sixteen good years!
For that was and is all that this ignoble culture has and had for me. That I do absolutely nothing with my life. Thus, the miserly salary that then was my lot in life.
The sheer evil of this people! And the shameless cunning!
And then, even after all - even after all the cheating and the lies; even after all the blatant means with which they all used me as though I were a guinea pig, as explained above; even after their having discarded me with the derisive sniggers that would I know they care less, after I retired voluntarily from the Oyo State Teaching Service; even after the extent to which they all have destroyed my life; even now, today, that they want to end it all by literally speaking taking my life - someway, somehow, they are the victims.
They are the only ones - even today, even after all - that can walk up to wealthier nations and claim that they're poor, that they're afflicted, that they're "oppressed," that they're down-trodden, that they're suffering. They are the only ones that can ask for scholarships to the best schools in the world - be the scholarship need-based, or merit-based. They are the only ones that can ask for political asylum on the basis of their lives being threatened, even though they all today keep on threatening my own life - openly, publicly - in the land of Akure. They are the only ones that deserve handsome stipends from all manner of beneficiaries - be it local, or most especially foreign. They are the victims.
- Ikoro Iyineleda; 19th of January, 2025.
culled from the WhatsApp channel, The Pride of Machismo Renaissance.
