I don’t speak a word of Izon, though I have had very ‘fruitful’ dealings in the past with one or two Ijaw ladies in the past. Luckily, the line of business we were engaged in did not need me to speak any language at all. In fact, it was not until several months after we had gone our separate ways that I found out what one of them told me, with a mischievous glint in her eye. It sounded like ‘A ya ma ye’. I’m told the closest in meaning to that could be ‘I love you’. And, stupid me, I just made jest of her language and foolishly walked away. That was yet another opportunity missed!
My deficiency in that language came to haunt me again a few months back, when I first heard the sobriquet Oforomapepe with which friends of Bayelsa State Governor, Hon. Henry Seriake Dickson, addressed him. It was a mouth-full – a full sentence, by my reckoning. It sounded like someone threatening to ‘show somebody pepper”.
But, knowing what I missed the last time a woman spoke Izon to me, I had to insist on a translation this time around. And when I finally got one, it was not too far from what I suspected. Needless to say, it was indeed a full sentence. Oforomapepe means ‘the great White Shark which dominates its environment (sea or ocean) and braves the ocean when the tempest is highest’. In other words, Oforomapepe is the king of the ocean.
Since it was not another way of saying ‘I love you’ in Izon, I did not attach further importance to the title, until this ‘great white shark’ swam the ocean of sharks and other marine adversaries presented by December 5, 2015 governorship election – and the re-run of January 9, 2016, and re-emerged safe and successful.
The ‘shark’ had indeed dominated its environment. For the Countryman Governor braved all odds, survived the highest tempest, to emerge victorious. He was re-elected governor, trouncing his challenger, APC’s Timipre Sylva in seven out of eight local governments that make up the state. In the process, he also helped former President Goodluck Jonathan to save face in his home state, by not losing it to the rampaging APC.
Of course, this was a good reason to celebrate, but Dickson cancelled the victory march, as a mark of honour for victims of the violence that nearly marred the governorship election.
But the governor might not be able to stop those celebratory drums from rolling out tomorrow, as he attains the landmark 50. The Golden age!
For this scion of the Obu warrior family of Orua, it has been a long rough journey. But those trademark values of valour, bravery and honour are finally paying off.
And it has rubbed off on the entire Bayelsa State in the form of a Restoration Government that is bent on positively rewriting the history of Bayelsa.
The evidence is all over the place; from Education to security and Tourism, Agriculture and healthcare, an economy that is looking beyond the crude oil in which Bayelsa is swimming, a massive road infrastructure regime that has seen the completion of some 450 kilometres of road, 18 bridges and a cargo airport in a state whose entire landmass is not only swampy, but several feet below sea level.
But, like a not-too-apolitical friend recently pointed out, “as far as I’m concerned, the most laudable achievement of the restoration government is not the free and compulsory education, it is not the ongoing infrastructural revolution in the state but the social security, health insurance scheme and, of course, the prevalence of social justice in Bayelsa. These were made possible because of the person of Dickson and the autonomy the judiciary enjoys in the last four years, as the judiciary gets its funding through first line charge, eliminating the scenario where many Chief Judges go cap-in- hand to governors begging for funding!”
Of course, the soft spot for the judiciary and the downtrodden is understandable; the governor is a lawyer, who had to join the police after his WASC before he could raise money to fund his own education – his parents being too poor to sponsor his university education. At 50, Dickson has literally seen it all, having traversed all arms of government. Apart from being a policeman, attorney general of a state, member of the House of Representatives and now governor. He even ran a political party, when he led the Alliance for Democracy (AD) in Bayelsa to victory in his senatorial district, producing the senator and Rep.
It would then appear like he’s done it all before hitting the golden age. But then, there’s still so much to do. And like Chinua Achebe would say, it’s morning yet on creation day. Happy birthday, Countryman Governor. Happy birthday, Oforomapepe
I’m too scared to talk
There’s a trend that is emerging in our country today. It is similar to what obtained during the campaigns for the last general elections – particularly, the presidential election. Whatever you said or wrote was viewed from one perspective: it was either you were supporting APC, and therefore, against Jonathan and PDP, or you were supporting Jonathan and PDP against Buhari and APC. There was no middle-of-the-road position. You could not dispassionately assess the two parties or candidates. One party must have paid you to side it against the other. Woe betide you if you were a Christian Southerner who did not support Buhari or a Muslim Northerner who wrote off Jonathan. Nothing you said would be taken beyond the confines of region and religion. It be came so serious that people became scared of saying their minds any longer.
Eight months after the change of baton of government (and party) in Aso Rock, the situation has hot changed. As the war on corruption rages on, No one dare point out that the fighters are facing one direction – or else, you’d be branded corrupt, or a beneficiary of corruption, or a PDP apologist.
The economy is sinking deeper and deeper into recession, yet all we can say and remain politically correct is that Jonathan and PDP are responsible. Of course Jonathan and PDP are also responsible for the global crash in oil prices. They are also to blame for the prostrate Naira?
But we dare not say anything to the contrary. We must clap for everything the new government says and does – irrespective of whether or not it makes any sense.
It is also for this reason that I have maintained my cool over the trial of my friend, Olisa Metuh. Yes, he remains my friend, even if our friendship could have been better cemented with a tiny fraction of … (you know what).
Every time I see Metuh climbing down from a prison van, with his hands maliciously cuffed, my stomach turns. I know Barrister Metuh has a temper, but I doubt if he flares up at the drop of a hat, or that his ‘hot’ temper is serious enough for him to constitute any danger to prison officers.
I suspect Metuh is paying the price of that written statement he allegedly tore.
But if Metuh tore a statement, did Nnamdi Kanu of IPOB also tear any statement? Or is he being punished for asking one of the prison officers who were taking him into the court to stop pushing him from behind? Was that why they now wanted to make the handcuffs tighter?
Painfully, every time I’m moved to say something on these shenanigans, I suddenly remember that the matter is now sub-judice.
That is why I would not say anything about the witness who said she was given $2 million cash to invest for Metuh. Nor that she took it to a bureau de change (that should not do more than $5,000). Nor that this is not round tripping? Nor that we do not need to invite her company to shed more light on the type of business it does?
I have learnt my lesson.
Next week: Conversation with my Royal father, HRM Eze Nelson Obasi, Dim II