Mbaka and July visit

Buhari, Mbaka and July visits

Many Nigerians have big noses. Whether in the interest of national development, out of genuine care for the situation at hand, to satisfy a budding curiosity – in the interest of good or bad, to get good Intel on how to feel better than your next-door fellow, to keep those who answer to you on a leash, to make money, among many interesting reasons, a true Nigerian, who knows his/her onions, has a big nose. We have a way of somehow taking our blessed noses from their places of lounging rest and plunging it into businesses that may not, and most times, concern us.

Have you noticed how they say some foreigners are best identified by their somewhat delicate small noses? They deal with bombers, a tweeting president, the confusions of climate change, and a few other issues we are not readily envious of. But for the big-nosed people, we deal with big issues and we take our pride in it. Only people with big noses, with their eyes wide open, pay through the same nose to live in what anyone who goes on a detached visit to the neighbourhood may describe as rich poverty. What’s the point of paying millions, yet your nose finds its rest outside your home when the floods come? And so, noses took their sniffing into the Island, parading all sorts of memes, real and imagined. It’s not an isolated problem anyway – remember the Ibadan, Suleja examples. The nose digresses. Can you blame it? It was programmed to poke its head into all ranges of businesses. Many Nigerians, indeed, have big noses.

Doubt the efficacy of that statement, take it up with your green-white-green genes. It’s true anyway. And there are more than a few ways to prove it. Ask the Nobel Laureate, who added another year sometime this week why he decided the confines of sleepy Isara was too small to perpetuate his activism and plunged his nose, headlong, into businesses of national proportions. Ask the many Nigerian so-called feminists, who haven’t lifted a finger beyond their noses to actually do something to better the plight of women nationwide, who have no idea the peculiarities of the concept, yet throw it in your face the moment someone with curves – eighty or otherwise – walks by. Ask the many victims of MMM still waiting for Godot. Ask the seemingly innocent housewife, who almost got herself killed because she wanted to access her suspected husband’s kidnapping files. Ask the Hennessy generation fans who won’t quit their rantings over celebrities who couldn’t care less if they existed. Ask the celebrities with big noses who start social media wars over issues that would be best described as most silly, yet still manage to parade a facade of million-dollar noses. Ask the journalist, who decided to over-question the efficacy of ‘official’ statements and gets booted in the process. Ask that new SAN, who decides to take up fighting for an acclaimed prostitute. Ask the penniless football analyser, who resumes at 7am everyday at the junction, to contribute his quota to the league discourse of the day. Ask the Roman Prophet, who decided the white walls of his spiritual cause extended to political prophecies. Need I go on?

It is not easy to be a prophet, priest, activist, miracle worker… all rolled into one human, if your denomination answers to the Vatican City. You have seen how seemingly strict they can be when it comes to rules and doctrines. The message is simple: you don’t like it, find your way out. The loss of many has not seemed to affect their lasting dominance in spiritual, and sometimes, political matters and it seems it would stay that way for as long as it takes, come Ahiara or high water.

You have to admire our very own Fr Mbaka. No prophet has rivalled him yet in his unique position, within and outside orthodoxy. However, when the self-styled prophet chooses to riddle us with riddles when revealing prophecies relating to the president’s health, we know jackals, hyenas, the rest of the animal kingdom that have taken the place of humans, are not smiling. Even the humans too with their big noses are refusing to lighten their cheeks.

For Nigerians, these are not ordinary times. Not with the president’s health situation hanging in limbo, the seeming increase in crime rate, the evasive tactics money keeps playing with many noses, and the general confusion.

When references to the Olori Oko’s health is received with comments relating to hyenas and jackals – how, amidst our confusion, did we not realise wild animals had literally taken over the villa – one then wonders that the big-nosed population refuses to believe even our vice-president, a pastor at that, when he says the president is fine after that visit, the wild-animalled and human flock have termed nothing short of mysterious.

Some have even dared to ask what the business of noses is, seeing as the country is doing fine with someone in charge of coordinating affairs. However, anyone with the Nigerian blood coursing through his/her veins can tell that something is amiss. Why the mystery? Beyond unconfirmed Hausa greetings, is it so bad to just want to know how our number one man is doing? We can’t help our curiosity; it’s inborn. Remember, many of us have big noses hardened by the harshened realities of our daily existence.

Oh well! Since the nosed folk have refused to believe, now may be the time to bring in a bigger nose into the situation. He has earned the right anyway, not with his national pedigree of apportioning himself the label of our president’s personal spiritual consultant, it is only fair, we let his nose serve us right this time. And with fellow noses, one may just hear the faint echoing of ‘Let Mbaka visit Buhari. Mbok!’

He has asked, one time too many. Maybe it is time to listen. What harm can a spiritual visit do? Now may be the time to give Fr Mbaka his well deserved position. Grant Mbaka access already to our dear president, and maybe, he will be Catholic enough to tell us the truth, no matter how coated. I’m sure many, including the touted jackals and hyenas, may finally lay our nasal openings on the doubtful altar of belief… for now.