Smiling insults

Smiling insults

By Julius Ogar

It took me, a self acclaimed workaholic, too long to put this piece together – so much so that I have almost completely lost the sizzling freshness of my story, my experiences. What with the daily struggle of being a Nigerian and living in Nigeria where mediocrity sets the pace while corruption rules the roost; where impunity strides with audacious impunity right on the middle of our highways. Oh dear...!

Whenever one gets an opportunity to experience modesty, discipline, courtesy and efficiency, one can’t help wondering and lamenting: wetin de worry us sef?! And to cap it, when one sees machines, systems and structures and the people who run them working to the optimal, delivering quality service without eye-service and adding value for the sake of progress, one cant’ help wondering what is wrong with Nigeria and why it has to progress in reverse in and out of season. Hmm!!

It was beautiful, exciting, relaxing and rewarding. It was a small journey to a small country, with plenty of smallish people; but everything turned out big. Big! Big!! Big!!! (with emphasis) It was simply amazing to realise that this small island with more sugarcane fields than houses has frequently featured among top performers in the Mo Ibrahim index for good governance; is the only African country with near zero unemployment; and the only African country with more than 90% literacy rate. Electricity is just a matter of turning on a switch, just as water is a mere question of turning on the tap. How bigger could it get, especially when one was visiting from a bragging but prostrate African giant sitting lazily on wells and reserves of oil and gas?

Far out to the east of Madagascar, about 2000 kilometres off the south-east coast of the African continent is the tropical Island of Mauritius. This tiny country of 1.2 million people sits pretty in the Indian Ocean, flocking with descendants of Africans, Indians, Chinese, and Europeans. From the air, Mauritius’ lush green sugarcane fields look like well manicured lawns straddling wide expanses of the countryside. As we descended, my eyes kept wandering from the coastline to the wavy horizon, and I silently baffled at how far some explorers could venture out in search of heaven knows what. What motivated those explorers to venture out...till they found the land of the now extinct dodo? Much more than being adventurous, I think they must have listened to their inner voices which urged them: “go on... there’s still a patch of land further out there...”

Mauritius makes me remember with nostalgia an old school mate we used to call “Small Engine” (not real name). Small Engine had this smallish stature with a very spare build, almost bony. But inside his spare frame was an amazing reserve of energy. He had the most stamina in the medium and long distance races, including marathons or what we called “Cross Country”. Small engine would endure on the track and very often outrun bigger and taller boys to the finishing line. Marvelling at the amount of energy inside his small body, witty boys soon dubbed him with an appellation that came to overshadow his real name whenever there was a competition in school.

Mauritius also makes me remember the Chinese balm (also called Essential Balm). In the good old days before evil merchants learnt to clone medicines in their warehouses, the Chinese balm was such a potent ointment that itinerant traders came to give it the name: “small-no-be-sick”. I think it must have been given this name because it came in a very little container and a very little amount of the ointment was quite effective in soothing sore spots and rheumatic pains on the body. If one was stung by a scorpion (as happened to me twice), or suffered a dislocation of muscular swelling, all he needed to do was look for “small-no-be-sick” and apply tropically through massage. Though it had this burning sensation to the skin, it brought much relief and healing.

Though small in size and population, Mauritius is a highly efficient, functional, orderly and highly organised society. I never saw one heap of refuse nor did I witness flying polythene in the air; no madly speeding and smoky cars on the highways as everyone observes the limits on speed; no police or military checkpoints to harass commuters and ask stupidly: “who are you?” or “from where?” when even the questioner does not know the kind of answer to expect; no generators disturbing the neighbourhood with fumes and noise; no hawkers dodging between traffic and poking wares at your face; no beggars reminding you of a weak and dysfunctional social system; no microphone blasts from churches or mosques and their itinerant preachers. You could add your own to my list and I bet you won’t be wrong.

Though peopled by Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Christians et al, Mauritians think their country first and are not overly sanctimonious in the hypocritical way we know it here. They live their religion in a quiet, unobtrusive, and patriotic way – and this reflects piously in their work, respect, and courtesy. Everyone one stumbled across was absorbed in their work and willing to help with simplistic honesty and modesty. Start a conversation and you would be highly amazed at how well informed and how educated an “ordinary” taxi driver, waiter or cleaner is. I never for once heard that self aggrandising question: “do you know who I am” from people who spoke to me in English, engaged others in French, or switched to a Creole I did not understand with rapid and accustomed fluidity.

The memory will never leave me, when, following an introduction, one Mauritian threw a joke at me and my friend thus: “every Nigerian owns a private jet”. I laughed along with my friend but deep down, we both knew this is the sort of mockery to which Nigeria and Nigerians have become prey. A host of other nationals one happened to interact with never ceased to wonder aloud: “Nigeria...oh! But what is wrong with your country!?” And this was no rhetorical question.

That gentleman’s comment was a good humoured joke. But for me it was akin to gallows humour. After all, Nigeria’s own president had disputed the alarming rate of poverty in the country by telling the world that many Nigerians owned private jets. Now South Africa has been pulling the curtains to show us how the Nigerian elite use private jets for poverty alleviation.  

Take it or leave it: as a country, we have become a laughing stock of our neighbours and the entire world, even when they respect us as individuals and defer to our intelligence and/or wisdom. The visit gave me an insight and a confirmation that being “big” is not just a matter of size or flaunting one’s weight with inconsequential statistics; or readjusting figures to escalate the GDP to the top of regional economies. Being big is a function of efficiency and organisation; of accountable and credible governance; of exemplary leadership that stirs in the citizens the sense of nationhood and patriotism.

I came away from Mauritius humbled, but sad at the grotesque irony of my country being a giant with feet of clay. And once again I remembered Small Engine – my old school mate who always sped away from bigger boys and bullies to take the prize. Chaiii...!!!