Joel Ighalo: Nigeria and a thesis in toilets [NEXT]

by Joel Ighalo

Monday morning:  the busiest day of the week, I believe. On the streets, you find office holders hurrying to work, the day student hurrying to beat the assembly bell. In King Jaja Hall of Residence, University of Lagos, life begins even before the muezzin call to prayer. Then you see boys forming a queue at the taps, then you see the taps hissing and water trickling forth. The queue continues to stretch, and boys barely awake, are spooned a dose of the harsh reality of a breaking dawn. My friend, if you have an exam scheduled for 8 A.M., you may have to go to the examination hall without bathing.

The boys begin to complain, as always. Some blame the federal government, and some heap curses on the school authority. Some make reference to that J.F. Kennedy’s quote about asking what one can do for one’s country: “King Jaja Hall is our country.” There is a subdued burst of laughter, and some suggest: “why not appeal to the private sector?” They continue to shout, some openly calling for the cotton head of Professor Rahman Bello, the vice chancellor.

Then you want to contest the assertion that Nigerians are the happiest people on the face of the earth. After two hours have elapsed, the queue is dwarfed as water gushes out. Then you see boys nodding in unspoken approval, and you are reminded that the passion of the masses will always be ephemeral subject to their change in fortune. The toilets and the bathroom present topics upon which doctorates could be earned.

As you fill your bucket with water, you see a conspicuous signpost hanging on the coloured brick wall: “BATHING HERE IS PROHIBITED; order by management.” That notwithstanding, a guy fetches water, then moves a short distance away. He sheds his clothes. You can only look away. Then he takes his bath, and you cannot but notice his kingly confidence. He is quite oblivious of your presence – the way he throws water on himself. It glistens on his boxer’s chest, spreading onto his seemingly sculpted packs.  My God, what a “laptop chest” he has got!

Then you cast your mind to the seemingly eternal season of impunity in Nigeria which has refused to be dispelled by a favourable climate. You wonder why laws are so brazenly violated, why nobody is saying anything, and why everyone seems to have gotten accustomed to such a menacing trend.

You hasten to the bathroom, and as you step in, you sniff out the sharp, tell- tale smell of “Indian Hemp”. Just so you know, the authorities in India once wrote to the National Drug and Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) asking them to quit referring to weed as Indian Hemp. According to the man who disclosed this on Political Platform, a programme on Raypower, the missive made it succinct, that the illegal cultivation of this hard drug wasn’t a peculiar menace to India.

If you have an allergy to dust and smoke, you are momentarily dazed but then, you would want to laugh at the smoker who is bawling praises to God in the toilet, “thank you for saving me, thank you my Lord.” You make a mental note of the similarity between this incident and the errant governor who takes money from state coffers, and tithes a ten- percent. In fact, he has assumed the backbone of the church. The pastor is never sparing in intercession to God on his behalf.

You wait your turn to use the bathroom, in a queue. The occupant is urinating all over the floor and at the same time, spitting his irritation. You are the next person to use the bathroom. You are painfully reminded of the dilemma of an incoming government, formerly in the opposition, quite unprepared for the monumental mess staring it in the face. And when you begin to rail at the nasty occupant, you enact the first strategy of the new government which is- releasing a press statement as to the glaring nature of things and vilifying the outgone administration over years of waste and decadence. Sounds familiar? In this clime, it is called “the sixteen years of PDP misrule.”

Now you wish to belong to the category of those who are so appalled by the sight they meet in the bathroom that they cannot venture inside. Or those who go to the toilet to relieve themselves but flee at the sight which confront them. From the aforementioned categories may emerge that lily- livered governor who cannot, or who is unsettled on how to confront the daunting challenges of his state. There is also the ex- citizen of Nigeria who has refused to come home.

You let the water run down your trunk. In one of the toilets, a guy is relieving himself and the stench is so stifling, you want to grab your nose and suck in your breath. There are people who create mess like that, along the corridors of power, whose antecedents reek to the high heavens. But, clever folks that they are, they have been able to launder their image. So they are seen as the paragon of virtue. The British have a saying that “behind every great fortune, there is a greater crime.”

In another toilet, the occupant who has come out is debarred from taking another step, because he didn’t flush.

“Guy you must flush your fucking shit now!”

EFCC!!!

“But it was messed up before I used it.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

EFCC is poised to disgrace somebody. The boys in the bathrooms, encased in soap lather, turn their attention to the offender. There is none among them fit to cast the first stone but by virtue of the eleventh commandment, “thou shall not be caught,” they are blameless and without guile. They chant, “flush it, flush it.” The offender, tail between his legs, submits to their will. Then you examine the spirituous solidarity driving Occupy Nigeria, #ISiandWithNigeria and all such protests. Many an agitator would be guilty of the same offence, given the same situation.

A preacher has grouped the social ills committed by Nigeria into a hierarchy of three concepts. These concepts could be best examined in relation to this topic.

  1. The first is Disobedience: You are told not to take your bath by the taps. You do not wish to visit the bathroom because you have no heart to withstand the stench and resultant nausea, or perhaps, you haven’t laid eyes on the notice.
  2. The second is Iniquity: You know it is an offence. You know it is wrong but you are confident you cannot be caught. Even if you are caught, this is your first time.
  3. The third is rebellion: Whether the Hostel Management likes it or not, you must have your bath by the taps. Iya Jaja and her boys can do their worse, or go and die!

Such an outlook, I must say, leads to civil disobedience.


Joel Eghosa Ighalo is an International Law student,  Historian, Reader and a Nigerian dedicated towards the maximisation of the country’s potentialities. He tweets @_empighalo

One comment

  1. Well, I must confess I love your writing technique. It is quite impeccable.

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