Emeka Alex Duru is my friend, my brother-in-law and as we often say in this part of the world, a brother from another mother. Whatever affects him affects me – on equal measure! He is in pain right now. There-in lies the similarity. But, there are many dissimilarities as well.
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The Nze Orlu – mind you – Nze is not the same as Chief – the former is higher – is more taciturn, more measured. He doesn’t rant as the rest of us. He reacts to issues, not out of impulse or brainwave, but reflexes are imbued more of studious, studied tendencies.
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Mgbadike Atuegwu, my friend ought to be a very happy man right now. Two high achievements ought to make it so. A fortnight ago, he was decorated with the highest attainment in education – a Doctor of Philosophy (PhD), in History and Diplomacy from the Lagos State University. Just this week, he completed the burial ceremony of his elder sister in his village.
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Now, the two are no mean feat. For one, less than one per cent of Nigerians achieve PhD – the zenith of academic learning in the world. So, joining that exclusive club is one of the biggest achievement anyone could attain in his or her lifetimes.
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On the other hand, anyone that completes burial rites in Igbo land is equally not a mean feat, because it takes a lot to do so. I’ve just been through one and I know what it costs. This is because, unlike marriage rites, that are sometimes voluntary, burial rites are not.
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The bits and pieces, odds and ends of it must be complete and failure to complete them have consequences, some of which are fatal. Terrible things have happened to the living, who fail to bury their dead properly. The land is replete with several cases.
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So, my friend and brother is supposed to have retired to his home by now to count the tea leaves. But then, he’s a sad man. So, am I. his source of anguish is the misfortune of subjecting himself to the horrible experience of travelling to the South East by road.
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The trip exposed him to the nightmare Nigerians are currently passing through on the Lagos-Onitsha expressway. Since then, he has been besides himself with anger, pain and lamentations. He says it all in few words that command and convey deeper meaning only those, who had experienced hell itself on earth, could fathom.
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As the versatile reporter he is, he kept updating on his ordeal at various stages. The first came with the lamentation: “How can a country that is not at war be putting up with this Golgotha that passes for Benin-Asaba Highway?” It was a rhetorical question.
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Then came the second post: “Lucky escape from Agbor lockdown! Truly, This House has fallen.” Guess this came after making it out of the twist and turns of Asaba before heading to the greater demon of Agbor and then Benin Bypass.
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Then, came the last post, where he ended with the fundamental declaration: “Any Nigerian that drives or is driven on Benin-Asaba Highway and still roots for any of the leaders at the state levels, deserves mental examination. Did the hurt, the frustration and the pain register?
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If it did, multiply it by at least 10 million Nigerians, in my estimation, commutes through that road every day. That will give you an idea quantum of pain across the land as you attempt to shovel that spoonful of rice into your mouth, as you clap in the church or bow down in the mosque of as you undress for shower or get into the sheets with madam or oga in the other room.
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As you contemplate this horrific situation wherever you are, factor in David Nweze Umahi, former Governor of Ebonyi State and current Minister of Works in the cabinet of President Bola Tinubu. That is the man on whose sturdy shoulders the full responsibility rests.
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If he were an ordinary man with the same red blood flowing in his veins in the same manner as Olusegun, Musa or Okoro, he would have heard the wincing, flinching and sighing of millions of Nigerians. Their loud groaning ought to keep him sleepless every night and prevented him from doing anything else that resembles pleasure.
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Yet, what do you hear? It is either he is explaining his role in the tragic death of Mary Habila, the Kaduna-born nurse – some say physiotherapist – or he is inviting Peter Obi for a debate for daring to draw public attention to the state of this same road. Imagine! Just imagine!
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Did you hear his defence? He’s telling every ear that was open that the contractors handling the roads were responsible. In fact, to complete his spurious, infantile tale even Bata, the imbecile in my village would laugh at he ordered the arrest of one of the contractors.
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Pray! Did you hear anywhere in your neck of the wood that any Nigerian contractor has been arrested? Nada! It was just an empty talk that wouldn’t take Nigeria anywhere.
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If anything, that road would remain the same – entrapping Nigerians – your brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts for days, weeks, months and even years.
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It will be there as Monday Okpebholo gifts Tinubu three million votes and as Sheriff Oborevwori, donates a landslide victory for the APC. It will be there as demonstrable evidence that the votes of those 10 million Nigerians that traverse the road, some of them sleeping on a spot for days would be as worthless sea water to a perched throat.
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In fact, from what we hear today those Nigerians writhing in anguish, will donate their votes to thank Tinubu on the morning of January 16 for making them go through that hell. They might even cut off their thumbs to emphasise their appreciation. Mark it! That’s the TRAGEDY!
