Our ethnic fault line and the keg of gunpowder

Ingratiating commentaries are profitable. I’m tempted to get on that gravy train. But sadly, it is not for me. By a cruel hand of fate, it turns out I am allergic to bull. I tend to serve my juice without sweeteners. And as everyone with a sweet tooth knows, juices without sugar taste anemic. Truth is vinegary. Bitter, in fact, in many circles. It is why you never see Alomo Bitters or Kasaprenko in State Houses. Only honeyed speeches to soothe itchy ears. 

But let me state, in case there is somebody out there able to buy me home on easy street, that I do not detest being rich. I do not mind farting Chanel and sneezing Dior. I see no vanity in taking my medicines with caviar and easing my gastric upset with lychee.

The problem, of course, is my fingers.

They have a sense of being and a morality. 

When I want to write piffle, they disobey me. When I want to grovel and ingratiate, they get angry and type scriptures instead. 

God hath spoken once; twice have I heard this; that power belongeth unto God.

Stop trusting in mere humans, who have but a breath in their nostrils… 

Whoever loves money never has enough; whoever loves wealth is not satisfied with their income. 

Pharisaical fingers.  

If I die broke, I want an autopsy. My fingers should be brought in for questioning.  

Right. To the heart of the matter. 

I find the reticence of the government on the rampaging herdsmen disquieting. Why hasn’t Mr. President addressed us? He has skin in the game. He is the Chief Security Officer of the country. He is also the National President of Miyetti Allah Cattle Breeders Association of Nigeria.

Unlike many people though, I don’t believe he is complicit in the bloodletting by the herdsmen. Rather, the man just hates the cry of “wolf, wolf” when only a few carcasses are strewn about.   

Because of the herdsmen, many people in the South probably hate Fulani people right now. That is threateningly inauspicious. Like sticks of dynamites stuffed into our significant ethnic fault lines. I dread a kaboom. 

Ethnic fault lines.

A thin line when it serves our interest. A yawning gorge when it doesn’t. 

I remember my old man telling me how he hid an Igbo chap under his bed at Ebute-Metta when the Civil War broke out. Nigerian soldiers went from house to house taking away ‘treacherous Ibos’. 

My father didn’t know the chap. He had run into the compound. While it was risky, hiding him seemed like the right thing to do. 

The soldiers came into the compound but didn’t search the apartments. They only barked to know if any Igbo lived on the premises. 

Well, the chap didn’t live on the premises, did he?

After the soldiers left, the bloke came out from under my father’s bed, near kissed him, and fled. My father hoped he made it. 

My old man is not a tribalist. But when I told him I’d found the woman I was going to marry, his first question was to ask me where she was from. 

Luckily, Ilesha passes muster. 

On the surface, his question was innocent. But it is laden.  

You are safer staying within your own tribe, whose ways we know. 

Ethnic fault lines. 

Sometimes we don’t know it’s there. But it is. 

The killer herdsmen have made this fault line a gaping ravine that could swallow us all. The anger and hateful rhetoric is spreading.

Him: Boko Haram and killer herdsmen are part of the Fulani agenda.

Me: Pray, tell. What Fulani agenda?

Him: To Islamise Nigeria and perpetuate Fulani rulership.  

Me: Killer herdsmen are criminals. Nothing more. 

Him: Really? Then why hasn’t the President – who is Fulani and head of Miyetti Allah – come out to condemn the killing? Why are Nigerian soldiers – who report to the President – beating up people who refuse to allow herdsmen graze on their farms? 

Me: I don’t know what is going on in the President’s head. But this your theory of Fulani-ruling-forever is fanciful. How do you go from few herdsmen killing people to rulership by a tribe? 

Him: It is ingrained in every Fulani. The commands of Uthman Dan Fodio and Ahmadu Bello. To Islamise Nigeria and perpetuate Fulani hegemony. By peace or by force. That’s what is happening with Boko Haram and the killer herdsmen. 

Me: I don’t agree. Boko Haram is a terrorist organization. Rampaging herdsmen are simply bandits and criminals. You can’t paint a whole tribe with a wide brush.

Him: That’s the mistake you people are making. To treat Boko Haram and the herdsmen issue as isolated cases. They are not. They are from the Fulani playbook to perpetuate Fulani rulership over Nigeria. 

Me: You still haven’t explained how the killer herdsmen are part of a rulership agenda. 

Him: It’s domination by conquest. First, they come to your territory ‘in peace’. They understand your weaknesses. The Fulanis don’t do wholesale acquisition. They gain ground piece by piece. Until they attain a critical mass. Then they act. Kill and maim and usurp power. Fear and violence are their tactics.

Me: So you are now an ethnographer? It is the alcohol speaking and half-baked knowledge. Nigeria’s problem is a stranglehold on the country by a ruling class that cuts across tribes. It’s not about tribe or religion. 

Him: The base of that ruling class is Fulani. They’ve ruled more than any other tribe in Nigeria. You think that is by accident? It’s calculated. From inflated population figures to more local governments than any other region. The Fulanis are strategic. They are not ‘malo’ as we think. They put themselves in important places. Or why do you think before the recent appointments all the service chiefs were Fulani. The Attorney General was Fulani. The Chief of Staff was Fulani. The Secretary to the Government is Fulani. The Police IG is Fulani. The Chairman of EFFC is Fulani. Guy, wake up na. 

Me: Goodluck Jonathan surrounded himself with Southerners too. At that level, trust is key. You surround yourself with people you trust and that are loyal. 

Him: Baba Iyabo made multi-ethnic appointments. He appointed different tribes into important positions. Not same with Buhari.  

Guy, see. We people in the South thrive on self-determination and free thought. For Fulani people, duty to the Fulani nation comes first. The words of their leaders have weight and force. It is here that you people remove the cap of the Obi or insult the Ooni. These guys still live in the shadow of Uthman Dan Fodio and Ahmadu Bello. 

Me: There is no “Fulani nation” that is above the Nigerian nation. Just as the “Yoruba nation”, “Igbo nation” or any other tribal nationhood cannot be above Nigeria. 

Him: There is a Fulani nation. And to the Fulanis, it is far more important than the Nigerian nation. The Nigerian nation is nothing more than a product of the Scramble for Africa. Lugard melded different nations together for selfish British gains. Nations that have nothing in common. The Fulanis don’t care about the faux country called Nigeria. They only care about their own hegemony across West Africa. They’ll use the resources of one nation to develop the Fulani nation. Why do you think we are building a rail line to Niger Republic.  

Me: Well, I can argue that very few countries are made of homogenous people. Countries comprise different ethnic nationalities. The UK comprises English, Scots, Welsh and others. Switzerland is Germanic, French, Italian. The United States is, well, the world’s largest melting pot. That a people are not the same, does not mean they can’t be one country.” 

Him: Remind me where Pakistan and Bangladesh came out from again? India, namaste. How many countries broke out from the old Soviet Union? 15! Russia. Ukraine. Georgia. Belorussia. Uzbekistan. Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan. Tajikistan. Armenia. Estonia. Latvia. Lithuania, shall I go on? Do I need to remind you that South Sudan broke away from Muslim-majority Sudan in 2011? Oh, by the way, Turkey and Lebanon were once thriving Christian countries. Levity turned them into Muslim countries. 

Me: How did a debate about herdsmen lead to breaking up a country and Muslim vs Christian? 

Him: We are not one country. Simple. And it is really not about religion. We have Muslims in the South who do not agree with Boko Haram ideology and killer herdsmen. However, the Yoruba Muslim has more in common with the Yoruba Christian than he has in common with the Fulani Muslim.

Me: Out of curiosity, how many parts would you recommend we break up the country into? I suppose you believe the Niger Delta will go with the Igbos or the Middle Belt go with the Fulanis?

Him: Look, it’s not about breaking up the country, as appealing as that sounds. It is about equity. If we can devolve to true federalism where each state or region controls its resources and destiny, Nigeria can work. But as long as the current structure continues, we are best going our separate ways jare.

Man, so much suspicion. So much bad blood. 

But the President can make it go away. In the interim, at least. 

He needs to speak to us. 

I have never lived in the North or amongst Fulani people. But in my experience, I know when we judge from afar, we judge wrongly. I know this from personal experience when I did my NYSC in Bayelsa.

You see, many people in the country held ludicrous notions about the Ijaw man. He is lazy. He womanises. He loves trouble. He brushes his teeth with kai-kai.  

The Ijaw man does of course love his kai-kai. I came to love it too. If you were a poor ‘Corper’ in rural and riverine Bayelsa, kai-kai quickly became Hennessy for you. It was not the cheap adulterated fare you find in Lagos. I’m talking about moonshine crafted by nature herself. 

I digress. 

Going to Bayelsa, I’d had an earful about the Ijaw man. This was not helped by the Odi crisis, which happened only three weeks before I left for Bayelsa. In fact, when I got to Mbiama Junction, the only land entry into Bayelsa State at the time, there was a very heavy military presence there. Roadblocks, armoured tanks, howitzers, military trucks and a gazillion soldiers with painted faces. Could well have been Mogadishu.

So here a funny incident. 

I was coming into Bayelsa by bus from Port Harcourt. At Mbiama Junction, we came upon the deployed might of the Nigerian Army. They stopped our bus. A big and fierce-looking soldier came on board and asked – nay, demanded – to know if there any ‘Corper’ on the bus. 

I didn’t acknowledge the call. My name was Jide, not ‘Corper.’ And I don’t answer to man, only God. 

The soldier asked on three separate occasions. He seemed convinced that there must be Corpers on the bus because he refused to leave. 

Then a guy in Corper uniform came on the bus. He was more cordial. He informed that in case anyone on the bus was headed to the NYSC Orientation Camp at Kaiama, NYSC had moved the camp to a new location. It is providing buses to take the new Corp batch to the new location.

Only then did four of us stand up. 

Everybody on the bus burst into laughter. Even the soldier laughed. 

“Why una dey fear?” he joked. “Una no be men?”

Dude, you see a penis on me? 

We got down. I shared cigarettes with the soldiers while we waited for other Corp members. I was going to enjoy this Bayesla all right.  

Needless to say my time in Bayelsa was one of the best times of my life. I did one year solid without coming to Lagos. I was posted to teach in Koroama, one of the eight villages that made up the Gbarain Clan. Real National Geography place, that Gbarain Clan. No electricity. No pipe-born water. Swamps, crocodiles, iguanas, manatees. The Taylor Creek ran the length of the clan and merged with the monstrous Nun River at Polaku. I fell in love with the place. 

Turns out that the Ijaw man is quite the affable chap. He treated me like one of his own. He provided for me. Protected me. Trusted me. So much so that angry youths of the clan invited me along to witness the disruption of a Shell flow station. 

Thanks, homies. I’ll just stay home and enjoy this roasted snake. 

Talking about snakes. One day at the village center I was drinking with the powers-that-be in the village center. The kai-kai was bottomless and the spiels many. Then the son of the village chief stood up and said to me: “Olade, let me give you something.” For some strange reason they struggle to pronounce “Alade” and instead would call me “Olade”.

The dude went into the house and brought out a large gas jar. The jar was half-filled with kai-kai and contained alligator pepper and some herbs. But inside the jar were also four species of snakes. All dead, of course. The kai-kai preserved the snakes. So they looked like they were still alive.

He poured me a drink: “Take”, he said. “You have taken us as one of your own and we too have taken you as one of our own. You eat with us, you go to owugiri with us, you go to the bush with us. We give you this drink. When you drink it, if you waka pass anywhere snake dey, the snake go die. If any snake bite you, the snake go die.”   

Drink fire!  

What kind of creepy Nollywood initiation is this? I’m cool with y’all but I ain’t cool with drinking some juju snake potion. Drink snake kai-kai and snakes die all around me? What witchery is that? Nah, I’m cool with snakes, bruh. 

I like to think of myself as a ballsy chap. But let’s not forget that I’m still a Yoruba boy. Our bravery is skin-deep. 

In a polite tone, I declined. I made excuses. They were pained. But they understood. Maybe another time then. 

Yea, maybe-another-time fire! 

I could write a book about my experiences in Bayelsa. It was amazing. The book will be a best-seller. But that’s not the point of this blogpost.

The point is, our suspicion of other tribes are often misplaced. At heart, people are really simple creatures. 

Not that there are no bad people around. There are. But the sum is often better and stronger than its parts. A critical mass of good people will dilute out bad ones. That’s how I choose to see the herdsmen crisis. It’s not a Fulani agenda (I hope it is not!). It’s a criminal one that must de dealt with with a strong hand. It has festered for far too long. 

But the President has a big role in applying the balm. 

He’s gotta say something!

He’s gotta do something. 

Alade blogs at www.jidealade.com

Views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of TheCable.