Chief Editor’s Note: To commence operation, the editors at Yeyenews.com reviewed articles by Africans on political satire and found this pertinent. This article is published here with the magnanimity and permission of the copyright holder. All rights reserved
By Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo
On December 18, 2011, a video emerged on social media that showed the richest pastor in Africa, the General Overseer of the Living Faith Christian Church International (aka Winners Chapel), Bishop David Oyedepo, slapping a young Nigerian woman in his church for saying that she was “a witch for Jesus.” Within a few days, the video had gone viral. Nigerians were deeply divided on whether the pastor’s actions were justified. A few days later, Oyedepo doubled down in a new video where he not only asserted his right to slap anyone but also suggested that his ministry was outside the jurisdiction of Nigerian law. He even proclaimed that it was his duty to slap and vowed to slap other “witches”.
In response, the Dr. Damages Show, a weekly satirical show decided to alter the images a bit. Instead of having the Bishop slap a poor young woman, they produced a parody where the Bishop slapped the President of Nigeria, Dr. Goodluck Jonathan. With the president kneeling down and the Bishop lording over him, slapping him and querying him, the show forced its viewers to confront the full ramifications of the issue and to reassess their positions on the actions of the Bishop. The reaction was instantaneous and overwhelming – since its release the clip has remained the number one video on SaharaTV with over a million views on YouTube.
Satire has become a powerful tool in a country where people got used to laugh and shake their heads in frustration and disbelief at the same time. But of course not every parody is guaranteed the same success. As the famous Nigerian poet Niyi Osundare who for several decades has been a vehement champion of free speech and artistic activism observes it: “Satire is an arousal of consciousness. It is a dangerous art because you must not take for granted that everybody has your kind of sense of humor or that every person has the same capacity for reading between the lines.”
For example, when Pius Adesanmi, who has been tagged “the god of satire in Nigeria”, penned a piece about Cardinal John Onaiyekan’s “socio-political crusade of speaking truth to power”, not all of Nigerians were amused. Many read the piece literally without knowing that Adesanmi is a Catholic and that the Cardinal is his family friend. “When it was first published by Sahara Reporters, all hell broke loose!”, Adesanmi recalls. “The Catholic faithful in Nigeria rose against me for daring to attack the Cardinal! A revered Father wrote a rejoinder. My mother was swarmed with messages and phone calls! But of course the Cardinal had a good laugh!”
Still, Adesanmi argues: “The Nigerian environment is very hostile to reading and intellectual work. But if you can make people laugh, your chances of being read increase exponentially. However, you have to also pray that the underlying message is not lost to the reader – which happens. It is a trade off.”
Okey Ndibe, author of the novels such as “Foreign Gods, Inc.” and “Arrows of Rain”, who has consistently written columns for the last three decades in Nigerian newspapers, deploys satire sparingly. Although Ndibe argues that “in Nigeria’s situation – the absurdities and paradoxes of a country that has all it takes to soar, but is stuck crawling – satire recommends itself,” he laments that Nigerians’ satiric imagination is terribly under-developed. At the same time Ndibe believes that Nigerians’ robust sense of humor in spite of the harsh human conditions under which they live is not an accident. He calls it a survival strategy. “So Nigerians say, “No wahala” (There’s no trouble/strife), “Nothing spoil” (Things are not bad), “We full ground” (We’re thriving), “Naija no dey carry last” (Nigerians never fail). It’s all a rhetorical way of being defiant at life. It’s an irreverent, ingenious mode of looking at a tragic social condition—a manual for laughing at your misfortunes as well as your fellows’. You learn to do that, or you die of despair.”
His “If Mandela Were a Nigerian” in which Ndibe imagines the late great hero as a Nigerian politician became one of his most widely read pieces. “The epistle, I think, opened many Nigerians’ eyes to the reality that god does not owe their country another favor (after the oil and other resources), and that we all, to one degree or another, created the mess in Nigeria,” he says.
Poets and writers have also deployed the power of satire to get their messages across. Osundare, the 2014 recipient of Nigeria’s highest academic award, the Nigerian National Merit Award for Academic Excellence, has used irony to great effect. The refrain of his poem, “Not My Business” which was written during the brutal years of Abacha dictatorship of the 1990s and pokes fun at the yam-eating political elite who have left nothing for the masses, still holds a lot of meaning in today’s Nigeria.
What business of mine is it
So long they don’t take the yam
From my savouring mouth?
In his plays, “The Trial of Brother Jero,” “Madmen and Specialists,” “A Play of Giants,” amongst others, Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka, also used satire to dissect the responsibilities that come with leadership and the devastations that follow when leadership is relinquished in a changing Africa that is beseeched with corruption and confusion.
In 1984, Wole Soyinka took it to a different level when he assembled a group of musicians with whom he made an album titled, “I love my country.” In the album, Soyinka satirised the political elite in Nigeria and their penchant for corruption.
In the song titled, “Etiko Revo Wettin?” Soyinka sang:
You tief one kobo dey put you for prison
You tief one million, na patriotism
Dem go give you chieftaincy and national honor
You tief even bigger, dem go say na rumor
Monkey dey work, baboon dey chop
Sweet pounded yam- some day ‘e go stop!”
With the explosion of social media in Nigeria and the dominance of Nollywood as entertainment of choice, new platforms and ways to capture the daily contradictions of a nation so blessed, yet so poor have emerged. Especially during President Jonathan’s term an industry of new online political parody entrepreneurs has flooded the media landscape.
For example, when on May 4, 2014, the emotional wife of President Jonathan, Patience, broke down while questioning the authenticity of the kidnapping story about the over 200 Chibok student abducted by Boko Haram fighters, her performance immediately went viral and produced some of the most colorful Jonathan’s era expressions like “na only you waka come”(Did you call alone?). She became a fodder for political satirists for weeks without end.
A year before, in May 2013, President Jonathan had failed to address African Union members that assembled in Addis Ababa to mark the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Organization of African Unity (OAU). With no information provided to the public to explain why Jonathan missed his speaking slot, Dr. Damages Show created a parody titled, “President Goodluck Jonathan Inside The Toilet At OAU 50 Anniversary In Addis Ababa.” Wherein he imagined why the president was not able to address the gathering. This video attracted almost 900,000 views on YouTube. Since the video came out, Jonathan and his successor, Buhari, have made it a point of duty to explain their whereabouts at any time. This is considered a victory for political satire.
Right from the beginning of indigenous Nigerian television production, satire was a major part of the lineup. During military regimes satire was more prevalent and the anger associated with military dictatorship fueled it. From 1985 to 1990, at the heat of military government in Nigeria, Ken Saro-Wiwa wrote and produced a satirical sitcom, “Basi and Company,” on NTA that lampooned corruption in Nigeria. Currently, acts like Adeola Fayehun, the creator and host of “Keeping It Real with Adeola” on SaharaTV, has been continuing with tradition. She said she uses satire mainly because she needed to enjoy what she does and also for her viewers to enjoy it as well. “If I’m too serious, people would just be depressed,” she says. “I don’t think I would want to keep listening to someone if the person makes me depressed.”
In a 2011 global survey of 53 countries of the world, Nigerian emerged as the happiest people. Nigerians were rated 70 points for optimism while Britain scored -44 on the pessimistic scale. That was when oil was selling at over $90 dollars a barrel and the government of President Jonathan was settling in with a truckload of promises for a better tomorrow. This year, with crude oil price hovering around $30 dollars a barrel and the promises of Buhari’s government virtually a burst, Nigerians ranked 103 on the list of the happiest people in the world. It is not that Nigerians are not laughing anymore. It is just that the fronts are not as clear cut as before, when humour provided release against overpowering forces. With an economy in free fall, the realization that the terror in the North East won’t go away fast and that the civil service cannot match the promises for a corruption free government, Nigerians are slowly taking in the reality that citizens are required to take action on governance. Reality is no longer black and white – oppressed versus government, poor versus rich – when laughter provided a remedy without side effects.
The other day the minister of state for petroleum resources, Ibe Kachikwu, out of frustration lashed out that he was not a magician and that Nigerians must wait for two months to see an end to fuel scarcity. Immediately memes were created making fun of him and his arrogance in speaking down to Nigerians. It soon morphed into political actors calling for his resignation for something politicians in the past used to get away with. In a matter of days, he apologized for saying he was not a magician and promised to bring an end to the fuel scarcity problem in two weeks. And as the countdown approaches, the satirists sharpen their pencils as they salivate for a new round of onslaughter.
One thing that is clear to all involved in Nigeria’s political scene of today is that it is not their grandfather’s Nigeria anymore. With worsen human conditions, Nigerian satiric vacation may be facing a crisis of identity. The old tasteless satire of the past that emphasized laughter for laughter sake is giving way to a new purposeful one. A robust new satire is emerging which demands laughter while at the same time compels people to insist on a transformation of their dire conditions.
