Follow Us on Google
In the grand, bustling heart of our beloved nation, where potholes double as swimming pools and streetlights serve more as ornamental relics than sources of illumination, there exists a man of great stature and greater appetite. His name? High Chief Honourable Distinguished Senator His Excellency Dr. Barrister Engineer Alhaji Adedeji Okorie Haruna, alias Wazobia, the Supreme Benefactor of the National Cake. Through years of steadfast embezzlement, he embodies public service; a man who has truly mastered the art of governance.
The Ascent of this Visionary hero began long ago, in a remote village where mosquitoes outnumber humans and electricity is a whisper of the past, where Wazobia was born. Legend has it that at birth he clenched his fists so tightly the midwife suspected he was already grasping an allocation document. His parents, seeing his natural inclination for accumulation, sent him to the best schools where he learned the sacred texts of the politically anointed: “How to Loot and Remain Relevant.”
Wazo, as he is fondly called, cut his political teeth as the Personal Assistant to the Assistant Commissioner for White Elephant Projects. It was here he honed the fine art of signing contracts for roads that would only exist in PowerPoint presentations.
Soon, his talents could no longer be confined to the shadows; he ascended rapidly, holding titles no one could fully explain, such as “Senior Special Adviser on Matters Arising.” Some said it alluded to special projects or special purpose vehicles, SPVs. Without wheels, nobody could tell how and where they were actually driven.
However, Wazo defined it as the Doctrine of Stomach Infrastructure. As a man of the people, Wazo knew that governance was not about trivial matters like healthcare, education or security. No! The true purpose of leadership was Stomach Infrastructure, the fine art of distributing bags of expired rice a week before elections, ensuring the people remained in a perpetual cycle of gratitude and suffering, and only some specially designed vehicles could convey them to the beneficiaries whose addresses are not easily traceable on Google map.
His Excellency pioneered innovative schemes, such as the “Empowerment of the Masses Through Pure Water Entrepreneurship,” a programme that supplied citizens with empty sachets and encouraged them to find their own water sources. He was also behind the “Agricultural Renaissance Initiative,” which involved redistributing imported canned corn under the guise of locally grown produce. The ingenious riceocracy, a concept where starving Nigerians are regularly given rice palliatives without ingredients or condiments, also has his imprimatur. The idea was actually to afflict more people with beriberi and recurrent guests at moribund clinics where roaches hibernate.
Not done, Wazo was adept at the Art of the Padding or Disappearing Budget. When he finally became a senator, he perfected what the sages call the “Padding and Disappearing Budget Technique.” It was a marvel to behold. Funds allocated for roads? Vanished! Money for hospitals? Dissolved like morning mist! Education grants? Swallowed into the abyss! Yet, at every town hall meeting, he would proudly declare, “My people, my people! The budget has been utilised effectively for infrastructural enhancement and economic diversification!” to thunderous applause.
One year, a baffling miracle occurred: the state assembly discovered that Wazo had approved a budget for a non-existent airport, complete with an imaginary control tower, virtual runways, and an official grand commissioning. When confronted, he responded with a rhetorical masterpiece: “My detractors are simply afraid of my futuristic vision! This airport is not seen with the eyes; it is felt with the spirit!”
Wazo even recruited snakes to swallow huge piles of money in government offices. There was even a time when some nosy chaps found an unofficial central bank in an Ikoyi apartment, Lagos, but Wazo stepped in and doused the suspicion. Till date not even a whimper was heard about that anymore.
Wazo lived by a simple National Cake Philosophy: “The National Cake belongs to us all, but some of us must eat on behalf of others.” This belief manifested in his lifestyle. While the citizens languished in darkness, he ensured his mansion had uninterrupted power supply. While the roads remained death traps, he had his own convoy of imported SUVs equipped with personal pothole-avoidance sensors.
Despite multiple corruption scandals, Wazo remained untouchable. Why? Because he had mastered the ancient art of “Settlement.” His adversaries were rewarded with juicy contracts; his critics found themselves on the receiving end of mysterious “gifts” in foreign bank accounts; and, in a stroke of genius, he launched a foundation called “The Wazo Institute for Transparency and Good Governance.”
Those who tried to remain obdurate were outsmarted by Wazo. He would manipulate the anti-graft agency to cobble charges against them and while they would be too busy running from pillar to post to extricate themselves, Wazo had a field day and long laugh.
Wazo had his imprints on The Election that Never Ends. No politician in history had mastered the rigging game quite like him. On Election Day, polling stations in opposition strongholds mysteriously ran out of ballot papers, while in his home village, a record-breaking 15,000 votes were cast despite only 3,000 registered voters. In a show of democratic excellence, even the deceased participated passionately in the electoral process.
When the results were finally announced, Wazo stood victorious. In his acceptance speech, he declared, “My people have spoken! They have chosen progress! They have chosen development! They have chosen me!” The beguiled crowd erupted in cheers, for they knew their leader would once again bless them with a festival of 5kg bags of rice and sachets of oil or ‘washy washy’ ankara fabrics.
Wazo knew his ways with the courts. For the opponents, it was always a waste of time to challenge his victory. He would always win the case and never hesitated to tell them to go to court, knowing that he had planted compliant judges in far-flung extra jurisdictional locations where he would cause the suits to be heard.
However, there is time for everything, including time when all great men must face trials. Wazo eventually found himself in the net of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, EFCC. One fateful morning, he was arrested in his mansion, surrounded by stacks of foreign currencies, gold-plated furniture, and a personal zoo featuring an albino crocodile named Progress.
But Wazo was no ordinary man. He had planned for this eventuality. Within days, he collapsed in court, suffering from a sudden yet chronic case of “Political Persecution Syndrome.” Doctors rushed in, declaring that he needed urgent medical treatment in Dubai. The judge, sympathetic to his plight, granted him bail, and just like that, Wazo disappeared into exile.
Many had thought that was his end. Farmers were happy; they believed the herdsmen that ravaged their crops and enjoyed Wazo’s protection would now be kept at bay. The famished youths heaved a sigh of relief, hoping that the doors of employment would now open to them. Women were now upbeat, thinking that food would become available for their starving children. Men thought they would reclaim their pride, as they looked forward an economic boom.
Alas, suddenly, so suddenly, in a move no one anticipated, Wazo resurfaced in grand style. “After deep reflection and divine revelation,” he announced, “I have decided to answer the call of my people once more!”
Miraculously cured, he returned to Nigeria, rebranded as a reformist. His new party welcomed him with open arms, declaring that “the sins of the past belong to the past.”
As the years rolled by, Wazo continued to serve with distinction, guiding his people with a firm grip on the treasury and an unyielding dedication to the philosophy of National Cake Distribution.
So, the story goes, a never-ending cycle of promises, disappearances, and reappearances. The promised change turned to chains. For in the land of the blind, the one-eyed thief is king.
Wazo, Nigeria’s typical politician maestro operates with a mindset shaped by personal survival. Some say it is greed, systemic dysfunction, and a lack of accountability but Wazo and his ilk, countered, it is only a politician’s self-survival that could ultimately translate to survival for all, and so the looting continues.
Such is the screwed Nigeria’s political landscape; a reason the people suffer from Stockholm syndrome and are ready to die for Wazo, their tormentor-benefactor. Long may Wazo’s stomach remain full.
