Take the stone-age out of Africa

First, let me express my gratitude to God that Naija is not the worst place on earth. Yes, we have an estimated 3 million people in displaced camps, and life expectancy is now said to be 50 years as against Canada’s 80 but you cannot see tragic poverty through the resplendent dressings of our ruiners. They are masters in the chameleonic art of masking tragedy with decent dressing. When a bomb goes off in Haramistan, don’t expect the starch on Shettima to be less than it was when he married his latest wife. When it happens in Yobe or Adamawa, their governors consult their valet before appearing on television in embroidered babar riga. Even in tragedy, a governor must look dainty. Massacres never deter Sai Baba from jetting off for the scheduled handshake with turawan boko. We are unique – like that.
To some American power brokers, one of Barack Obama’s faults was including an estimated 50 million American citizens majority of who are black into an effective health care system in a country rich in research but poor in preventing needless deaths among the poor. This is one of the reasons why Donald Dumb wants the White House returned to white people so he could return Kenyan-Americans back to the Masai Mara. Remnants could then be returned to the Bronx Zoo for the September exhibition just like they did to Ota Benga.
According to some present day writers, African juju is venerated though it did nothing to prevent or arrest slave trade. The black race must worship something – any wonder that there are black-faced people who work assiduously to see Donald Dumb become President of the United States of America? There is always something worse than the Stockolm Syndrome when history is handled with levity.
Each time I listen to the BBC’s Click magazine, I could not but wonder why anyone in his or her rightful mind would want to improve on what is already considered beautiful. Remember how we were grinning from molar to premolar when we first handled the nought-nine-nought (not that I owed one), then, they brought the Nokia 33 and anyone who had one felt like they were next to the Almighty. Today, there are first, second, third and many other generation iPad, and other i-series that we have lost count except that we are struggling to hold one. What the hell was wrong with Nokia 33?  I know I am not the only one who thinks like this. I know educated compatriots across Africa who still blame white folks for damaging the psyche of Jacob Zuma for using public funds to upgrade his Nkandla residence. Did Naija query the cost of a helipad in Daura? There are educated Africans who see a hero in Robert Mugabe, especially for his wicked wits. We are unique – like that. 
So, on my way to see my shrink, I was happy that I glanced at social media and found that somewhere in Tanzania, a man returned to his ancestral roots and was told he could get rich if he buried his betrothed alive in a tomb. Don’t we all want to be rich? Who would rather be an Asaju Tunde if they had chances of being Aliko Dangote? This man accepted the words of his dibia that he could become Tanzania’s Dangote and he complied. Remember that in Africa, it does not matter if the herbalist lives in a grotto; entombed by contagious poverty his word is benign. The lover boy obeyed and encased his bien-aime in a soak away pit where his house help became curious and went to check after he had left for work and raised the alarm. This happened in the 21st century Tanzania where albinos are more endangered than Jos zoo lions. 
It virtually happens daily in Naija where baby factories are commonplace and flying witches drop on roofs after all-night prayers to jeering crowd. In Naija where life expectancy is 50 years the old-aged are suspected witches often maltreated and sometimes mobbed to death. Their stories no longer make front pages, perhaps not to embarrass our coveted foreign investors. It is said that there are human spare part markets strewn everywhere patronised by politicians who want to ‘win’ elections.
We were unshaken as a nation when we saw the gory pictures of a three-year old boy whose eyes were gouged in Kaduna by his own neighbour. Apparently, the neighbour had been told by his boka that those eyes would make him a billionaire. We are not surprised that in 2016 our children could no longer play football without someone prowling the corners waiting to harvest their vital organs. We are not scandalized that our women could no longer take taxi rides without ending up dead on the street with their vital organs gone. This is what happens when you take people out of Stone Age but fail to take Stone Age out of them.