The Ikoyi collapse and the politics busyness

By Jimi Bickersteth

T

he reality of the situation is that the building was gone, leaving in its trail, the living and their sluggish reaction to the emergency within the extreme of human, endurance and capabilities, the dishonour to the mangled lifeless bodies. However, to the gross of the humane, hardworking, fallible and mortal men and women that went down with the edifice, here’s my heartfelt condolences.

“You have aptly demonstrated that you are achievers willing to work hard…: I wish I had spent more time at the office.” Vince Foster, Dep.counsel, President Bill Clinton.

I had only just woken up from a slight nap to the news of the collapse of the 360° edifice at Ikoyi, Lagos, Nigeria. And in the ten minutes or so duration, I saw a picture of a damask tablecloth with a pattern woven into it that is visible on both sides: a three equal vertical hands of green (hoist side) White and green and a crowd of people singing and whooping with glee.

I remembered that only twelve hours ago I alighted from this jumbo 747 UAE flight, on which I’d expected my usual vein pulsating on my fore head as the aeroplane commenced its landing procedures at the final approach. Yes! I winced. Here it comes! The sensation in the pulsation(s) of the blood in the body. The increased pace of the pulses produced several butterflies in my stomach.

I also recall that on my approach to the arrival exit, I came in contact with the flight attendant, who looked at me and giggled in her professional manner, her eyes sharp and anxious. I was very pleased to make her acquaintance, as we exchanged numbers.

With the Abuja airport seamless checkout formalities done with, I found myself a town service cabbie and in a twinkle of an eye we were soon heading towards the inner ring road, into a city area that encompasses five ecosystems: upland evergreen forest, deciduous forest, upland dry savanna, savanna wetlands and forest wetlands all rolled into one.

At one spot we saw ahead of us what seemed to be a cloud of colourful leaves filtering across the road. The “leaves”, however, turned out to be butterflies, (magical, isn’t!) and we were not the only observers. A platoon of hungry lizards were scampering about, feasting on their hapless prey.

I remembered all of that in miniseconds, meanwhile, the LED on my quartz Rolex twinkling at 13:33, I took a quick shower and was soon occupying a seat in the restaurant. But I lost my appetite to jet lag and fatigue, and the now orchestrated whereabout of ‘Fourscore’, Fẹmi for short, the famous cerebral real estate developer, an urbane sugar-coated lips marketing guru. I left for my room after having downed two bottles of ice cold lager beer to steady my nerves.

Later in the day the news broke that the nation’s lost Fẹmi and a number of his business associates in the rubbles of his collapsed empire. Well! Nothing lasts forever. The Yorubas have a word that explains that, in a witty banter they are wont to say kòlọtítí.

With the tragic ‘Fourscore Tragedy’ so many questions came to mind:

i. What a short time to live and work?

ii. What a short time to rule and reign?

iii. Do humans have full control of their existence?

iv. How quiet could the almighty silent God be, yet willing for all mortals the way that only He wills.

The prayers, the praise and worship session and the beliefs in the omnipotent came to nought, at least, in the perception of mere mortals. Only the almighty God in his Supremeness knows the beginning and the end. It is said, ‘qué sera sera,’ irrespective of what humans, their piting limited talents and their ingenuity brings to the fore. He is truly the only One that knows the ending from the very beginning.

What a world! So weird, so cruel, so crooked, quite intimidating. Kòlọtítí – while the world is indeed endless, human life is mortal. What a world. Here today, gone tomorrow!. The machinations, the conspiracies, the backbiting, the permutations, sneers and the cries and smiles all gone in one breath.

I marvelled at the volumes and heaps of negative comments thrown the way of ‘Fourscore’ within a spate of 24 hours of the tragedy with all apparently not correct, or necessarily right in their assessments and summations, and perhaps, were not wrong, but, the chief Dramatis personae in the Ikoyi tragic incident – ‘the Fourscore tragedy’ a là DM, who could prove or disprove those uninformed conclusions was ; sad, I’m referring to a dear Àbúrò in the past tense, was no longer here on this side of the great divide to defend his reputation and integrity. Adieu Fẹmi Fourscore!.

At this juncture, let me leave the unravelling of the Fourscore tragedy to the experts in the land and building, civil engineering, quality and quantity surveying subsectors that has been assembled by a hardworking governor, who have sufficient knowledge of building and projects from his days at the LSDPC. I commend his doggedness.

The reality of the situation is that the building was gone, leaving in its trail, the living and their sluggish reaction to the emergency within the extreme of human, endurance and capabilities, the dishonour to the mangled lifeless bodies. However, to the gross of the humane, hardworking, fallible and mortal men and women that went down with the edifice, here’s my heartfelt condolences.

Lying on the bed, sleep deserted me, the white two by twos of the ceiling turned to a cinema screen of some sort. At about mid night, I rose up and drew the chair from under the bedside table and opened my laptop.

My mind filled with so much, was muzzy from sleep and cold. I felt as if my Muse had deserted me, that I could no longer write. A writer’s block, you are wont to call it. We all experience it; especially after my romantic novel full of mush, and with so much on my mind, I remained sleepless till about 5:30.

A cup of coffee perked me up as I made my way to the National Assembly complex the object of my visit to the capital city. A few minutes after 8:00 I was looking resplendent, confident and charming as I strolled about, looking very debonair in my elegant new suit, in a NASS complex, proud of its exclusiveness and looking virtually on high holidays. I gathered activities would pitch at frenetic pace from about 11:00.

I was in a quite upbeat mood, intent on discussing with the NASS management to collaborate on a retreat/workshop/seminar on HEURISTICS – a method of solving problems by learning from past experience and investigating practical ways of finding a solution to match the dictates of the time.

This is quite necessary in a nation whose path let in a faint way in its twilit gloom at the threshold of a new era, but lacking a pass in the quality threshold, at a time politics and economics and finance and governance were assuming more complex postures and dimensions, but in this clime was making no sense.

Its apt for the nation, since the nation have not really made any headway since 1999 – a twenty two years of marching on the same spot and noted for its notoriety of leaving its citizens high and dry in a difficult situation especially without help or money in a ‘strange’ country without a passport. At a time that the fear of a strong federal government now was running so deep that the great diversity of the nation was suddenly becoming a formidable obstacle to its unity and sense of oneness.

The nation is being threatened by calls for regional self-independence. Regional and commercial interests groups have sprang up and all had different views on the nation’s economy and the government’s role in regulating it. It was the continuing job of the constitution and the ruling elites it has created to draw all these ‘national’ disparate interests together, to create a common ground, and, at the same time, protect the fundamental rights of all its people for a nation with a limited experience of true federalism; though with considerable expertise in the art of self-government. The nation compared with the complexities of contemporary government and managing a 200 million people was not building for the futures. The ruling elites apparently were not really keen of the need for a structure of government that would work well not only in their lifetime, but for generations to come.

Add to this, the picture of a nation that does not know how to look after its senior citizens, its helpless young men and women, boys and girls with their lewd music, ṣèdí bàlàbàlà, bòlòbòlò crooners. You’ll recall glowingly the Chibok and Dapchi experiences, and other incidences of abuses bordering on insecurity. Encounters whose global – waves is telling the nation that things would never be the same again. It’s amazing that these often, swift and violent attacks leaves so many tears, deaths and sorrow on its trails; and have often caught security operatives unawares, the ones they responded and reacted to got them scampered for safety, when confronted with superior firepower of the marauding assailants.

Jimi Bickersteth is a Public Affairs Analyst.