by Osuchukwu, Mark Anthony

 

“We are all sick in this country. Being a Nigerian alone is an ailment whose cure hasn’t been discovered yet.”

 

Dear President, yesterday afternoon while I was torn between the decision of eating in the afternoon and going to bed hungry or vice versa, my friend told me that you were back from your vacation. Hospital vacation.

I was happy that you are alive. But, I would have been happier if you stayed back in London.

I didn’t see the need of coming home to a group of people who actually would have come to London to stay with you if the means was there.

We are all sick in this country. Being a Nigerian alone is an ailment whose cure hasn’t been discovered yet.

So, if we all had our way, we would have come to England to be treated too just like our leader.

You know obedience is better than doing what you want to do?

We may want to be treated in Nigeria because we have relatives who studied medicine and we know that our father’s didn’t waste money for fancy. But, no, as followers, we are obliged to be obedient enough to follow your footsteps and come to the abroad.

Another thing that bothered me in this your second coming after your ear problem coming is the way you came back like somebody who has been missed.

Honestly, we have moved on. We only miss your astute decisions that has led us as a country by the hand to greener pastures.

We miss your laws that guaranteed cash circulation and goods coming into the Country in peace. We miss it.

We miss the way you stood for the youths when house of assembly people wanted to remove us from Facebook.

We miss your enviable gait and theatrics. We may be saying that we don’t miss anything about you. It’s a lie. We do.

Uncle president, what did you miss about us?

Our happiness? Our daily expression of satisfaction on social media?

I don’t know what exactly you miss but I know you miss something about us. Maybe the symphonies of our generator sounds.

Maybe that. Maybe more.

I am glad that you proved your enemies wrong. They are eating their words now. Guess what Sir? It cannot digest. They will have constipation.

Those that said you have died in the abroad. They have not believed their eyes.

It is like film in their eyes.

You even made it more painful for them by taking photos of yourself and family. To prove to them that you’re not their mate.

Those pictures are fresh. London treated you fine. You looked happy and fulfilled in those pictures. You see why I suggest you go back?

You know that home is where you find rest.

London may be your actual country. Who knows?

Please uncle president, go back and rest.

Your vice president has been doing irrelevant things like bringing down the dollar rate, visiting Lagos airport without announcement.

Uncle, can you imagine the height of joblessness? When I read all his doings on the daily tabloids, I was shaking my head because those things aren’t what Nigeria needs now.

We need to arrest more people who are challenging the government and beat up more IPOB people. That’s what we need now.

He is doing all these because he feels you don’t know anything. Remember he’s a lawyer and pastor too?

He is looking down on you and doing his own things instead of following your footsteps.

Anyway, I knew that you were just giving him a long rope to show his true self before you probe and arrest him for “familiar spirit”

Uncle president, before I forget. I read something that sealed up my love for you yesterday. You traveled and understood the true meaning of “rest”.

You know that in Nigeria we don’t rest. It’s a mark of laziness. That’s why we keep dying.

But because the menacles of the Nigerian mob mentality fell off at Heathrow airport you’re a ‘more’ refined man who knows what rest is.

You said that Osibanjo should continue while you rest. That was very good of you.

I hope you find peace in Aso rock as you rest.

Uncle president, rest in peace and happiness. Come back to action soon. I love you.

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Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija

Mark Anthony is a young writer who easily reaches orgasm by watching people who have sense.