LAMENTATIONS OF A CRIPPLED NATION

Mother Nigeria, what’s going on with you? Something is wrong, really. Have you noticed the wobbliness of the mountain of load you are carrying? Even the visually incapacitated can see it. You must be unhappy about this. Do you know that those older than you as well as those of your age, not to talk of younger ones, are in better shape? They are fit and agile, in spite of the heavier luggage they carry.”

“Well, I appreciate your observation. That’s what I like about you. You cannot hide a feeling even if it hurts. But in this matter, you need a little more effort to be a really keen observer. You see, you have to check out my entire figure, from head to toe. If you do, you’d observe that the wobbliness of the load I am carrying is not without its foundation. Look at my limbs well. That is the origin; it is the root of the crookedness and wobbliness you locate on my head.”

“Aaah! I see! Mama Naija (hope you don’t mind?) you have a rotten foundation! This is what the Scripture means when it asks: when the foundation is rotten, what will the righteous do? You are not responsible for this condition, are you? How did it happen? What can you do? I wonder how righteous you are in this matter.”

“Of course, I know how inquisitive you are; I know that you’d be interested in how I got such a crooked foundation. The one who asks a question must be assumed to have an interest in an answer. The truth is that I was born cripple; a result of a deliberate act of cruelty on the part of my midwives. You see, my parents were in a dilemma. They wanted me badly, and they were afraid that if my birth was delayed, they may end up in separation or worse, divorce. So they hastened my birth. But they were also so much obsessed with a safe delivery that they did not worry about the egoistic motives of my midwives who couldn’t afford to have me born with strong limbs.

“My midwives knew that I could go places; that nothing would stop my quick ascendancy in the comity of nations. They knew that they won’t be able to control me. But of course, I cannot lay the blame on my midwives alone. There have been numerous opportunities for my parents to do the necessary surgical operation to correct my weak limbs. They have on each occasion stumbled and retreated. What I am not now sure of is whether my parents also wanted me crippled. But why would they? What kind of parents would not want the best for their child? I am puzzled.”

“I am confused, Mama Naija. Recently, one of the elder statesmen that may have been one of your parents told a gathering of your children that it has not always been like this with you. He recalled that in the first few years of your life, your parents really rallied around you and nurtured you well at their own expense. He told his audience that some of them never cared for building their own homes just to be sure that all was well with you. They refused themselves the luxuries that could only be gotten at the expense of your good health. But now you are saying that they neglected to correct a vital part of your being, your limbs which serve as your foundation. How is that to be reconciled with the elder statesman’s account?”

“Baba Sule was one of the good parents. But he was only half right in his submission. It was true that his generation never drained me of my resources for their self-interest. Within the limits of their understanding of what was good for me as a growing baby, they ensured that I did not suffer basic needs.

“When I said that my parents provided for my basic needs at least in the first few years, I meant that they knew that for such an unusual baby born of parents with different backgrounds, it was better to ensure that each parent had a hand in nurturing me. Each part of me was taken care of by those parents that knew it best with the resources at their disposal. And every parent had something it could boast of. There was a healthy competition for my sake.

“Trouble developed when parental mistrust about what to do with my infirmity led to quarrel. And the understanding of my parents concerning my needs did not include the summoning of an orthopedic surgeon to take care of my limbs. That was a terrible omission. As it turned out, their neglect led to my first crisis in the sixth year of my birth. For almost four years, it was not clear that I would survive. The different backgrounds of my parents, which in normal circumstance should be an advantage, turned out to be a curse. The crisis worsened my precarious situation. What do you expect when soldiers tried to do the work of an orthopedic surgeon? My limbs got worse and I only thank my stars that I came out alive and avoided amputation.

“The free fall to my present predicament had started. The soldier-turned-orthopedic surgeon did two major havocs among others. They forcefully eliminated the diversity that had been the boon of my background. Perhaps they thought that doing so would improve my limbs; but it was a terrible mistake.

“Whereas my parents had fought hard for the institutionalisation of their diversity to strengthen the growth of my mind, and to contribute to the strengthening of my limbs, what the soldiers did was to cut off one vital source of my strength. Now the competitive drive was gone. Too bad, in the process, my parents gave up on their different sources of resources because my former midwives came in and pointed them to a source of wealth without work. They found the black gold in the backyard of one of my parents. Now hell broke loose. The elimination of differences means that all my parents can derive the means of my nurturing from the backyard of one of them.

“You would expect that this parent with the new-found means would now have an advantage over others in matters affecting my growth and development. That was not to be because others have ganged up against her. They claim to know how best to use her resources to nurture me and therefore marginalised her as far as my welfare is concerned. That has led to a great resentment on the part of this parent. Who would not be resentful in such a situation? Now they are trying to listen to her. But it is getting too late and desperate for my care.

“The other major havoc the soldier-turned-orthopedic did was to make a mockery of the frugality of my parents. As Baba Sule told his audience, his peers were frugal to a fault. Many of them had no property of their own. But the soldiers thought that Baba Sule’s generation was crazy.

“The discovery of black gold in the backyard of one of my parents led the soldiers to a spending frenzy. They created emergency contractors and new breed politicians with long throats. The politicians are good learners. Now, no one remembers that my limbs need a surgical operation. As long as the black gold flows, the new breed will always reach some consensus on how to share it. Never mind that some pretend to be mavericks. There is one strong tie that binds them. It is sharing the wealth for their selfish purposes. What happens to me is secondary. The last thirty-four years bear me eloquent witness.

“My only hope now is that my caring children and grandchildren will find a lasting cure for my infirmity. It is in their interest. My shame is their shame. They need to save me from the suffocating grip of their brothers and sisters. Time is running out for me!

By Prof Segun Gbadegesin