Democracy and Africa’s stolen protests

Whenever Africans get the bug and jump on the streets in protest, I laugh! For me, Africa means everyone on that oblong-headed map that you could see when you fly on the Apollo II spaceship. Those who split our continent into bits and chunks are not done with the scramble yet. They now classify some part of the continent – Arab! Don’t snide at the insolence, the victims believe in it.

So, when Egypt the land of civilization erupted in violence a few years ago, neo-colonial press described it as ‘Arab Spring’. Imagine the image it evokes in the minds of high school pupils doing Map Reading in a Geography class. Still wrapping their minds round so many countries outside their village, town or city, they’re confused that one part belongs to the Middle East.

But this is not a geography lesson; it is about the futility of untangling oneself from the manacles of the oppressor. If you are in godforsaken Africa under a dictatorship, even as benevolent as Muhammadu Buharis’, seek not yet Uhuru. You may not be too young to run, are you permitted to make big changes? As the holy books say, gathering you will gather, but because the cabal does not sanction your gathering, you win the street battle and the hawks take the crown of the victory lap for winning the war.

It’s been eight years since Egyptians woke up one morning and decided to unshackle themselves from the chains of Hosni Mubarak. Until then, Mubarak was that hero who served his country well, won laurels and positioned himself well, (like Sai Baba) to reap from of Anwar Sadat’s assassination. A good Muslim, he savoured the wine of power but once he had taken a sip, (like Eve reportedly and the apple in the garden), he was hooked for 30 odd years. Towards the end of his regime, he was deluded enough to groom his son for succession like Emperor Akihito.

Don’t blame Mubarak. He saw Faure do it in Togo and Joseph Kabila in the Congo – nothing precludes it being done in the land of the Pharaohs? Well the Egyptian have repeated their 15-minute of fame revolution several times without finding the root to Nirvana.

While some impressionable Africans looked towards Tripoli for their version of Eldorado, Libyans thought they had the wrong end of the stick with Muammar Gadaffi. With a little help from colonial overlords, Libyans went wild in jubilation after slaughtering Gadaffi. They had been closeted in oppression for so long, they thought democracy would detoxify them. Today, nobody knows how many Libyas there are but a régime in Tripoli has the approval of international hawks. Most Libyans would do anything to have dictat Gadaffi back. They see in Khalifa Haftar as close a clone as could be. My joker for them is found in egbon, Folajimi Iyeku’s poster in Radio Kano – disappointment is not as romantic as I thought it was going to be.

Slaves have no idea how lucky they are, that’s why St Paul urged those in slavery not to fight for freedom. The Israelis led through perilous desert to the Promised Land by a stammerer named Moses were fed on celestial meal. But halfway through their journey to freedom, they craved Egyptian garlic and cucumber!

Could you blame Algerians seeing their once agile dictator, Abdelaziz Bouteflika wheeled around like an invalid unable to utilise any of his mental faculties? That iconic picture jolted them to the reality that a cabal was in charge and the need for change. They trooped out, but the cabal always holds the aces. The mob had its way and Bouteflika resigned. Some people won, but definitely not the mob. The mob always has its say, but the cabal always has its way.

The revolution caravan has moved to Sudan where for 30 years, Omar al-Bashir ruled with mercurial iron fistedness. His initial nation had oil – the curse of any underdeveloped nation. He created artificial wars and silly conflicts to help democracy’s global supervisors plunder his nation’s resources. Then the oil was severed from Khartoum and South Sudan thought it was heading for paradise. It hasn’t happened.

International conspirators called for al-Bashir’s head. In Johannesburg, he escaped by hair’s breath when Zuma refused to play Obj versus Charles Taylor. Last week, Sudan became liberated – except that it wasn’t. Awal ibn Auf, a desperate and wily old fox in uniform stole the revolution, even though he could hardly read the script written for him.  The Sudanese mob swears not to give oaf Auf a soft landing. But Auf knows how not to lose to the mob. The vulture is a patient bird.

In Naija, we are not in an open dictatorship. We have a regime that has learnt not to give a damn! It never says so; it sleeps on its feet having learnt from its predecessor not to fall into the same trap. Naija people won’t go to the streets. They have been so serially abused by hope they feed democracy’s fake diet of hope to get the job done. Memo to those who think that mob rules works – it simply takes you on a ride to nowhere.

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