By Bisi Lawrence
To wonder where all this fuss about voting will lead us might sound crazy. Of course, everybody knows that we are heading for democracy or something in that neighborhood.

I somehow have some problem with that quantification though, because Martin Luther King, whose birthday was earlier in the week, characterizes freedom as indivisible. “You have it all,” he declares, “or you are not free.” And since we all seem to identify freedom with democracy, or democratic rule, we really have to believe that our destination is truly the democratic way of life, as it stands alone.

However, indications from current events and their antecedents would tend to belie that notion.

Our hopes are, in fact, built on that idea and, at the same time, inflated by it. We think in terms of an investment in the future, and so articulate the expectation of a return of “dividends of democracy” in various aspects of our national development. That would rightly justify the clamour for “one man (or woman), one vote”, or “a free, fair and credible election.”

But glance back at the recent past for a moment, and check where we are coming from. Do bomb blasts echo the sound of democracy? They even seem to have lost their reasoning in the diversity of their targets. What cannot be denied is that they must be linked with our progress towards “democracy”, since they seem to have a high content of political motivation – and “democracy” is the only game in town.

Jega

We cannot safely claim that we have heard the last of the horrid sound, because we have no real evidence that we have put a final halt to this deadly menace. Our pre-occupation is riveted on “a free, fair and credible election”. We all witnessed how a large slice of it all came down with a deafening roar of anti-climax on Eagle Square in the small hours of a tiresome night when, once again, there was “no victor, no vanquished” only victims.

The only casualty, who lost a frayed bid to rule the country, also lost his credibility in my estimate. He had once come so close to his quest that he probably had his nostrils virtually full of the fumes of power.

By a pitiful progression of disappointment and frustration, his bid became fashioned in a shape that only provoked searing laughter. But how could a man heading for the highest elective office of this land turn in such an uninspiring performance in selling his wares to the electorate? Some primary school debates would feel insulted by a comparison with that monotone of a reading exercise, delivered at a low pitch and with little passion.

It was a night to dazzle the audience with the promise to perform “six impossible things before breakfast” every morning. But, even on the other side of the house, we heard the echo of the man who claimed that his government had evacuated petrol stations of overnight sleepers seeking for the purchase of the fuel. The man who could have claimed the copyright for that fantastic feat was himself present at Eagle Square on that night, and could not have found that funny – at least he was not laughing at that juncture.

Truly, no victor, no vanquished, but no one was dazzled either by the proposal to create more universities in the country. Is that where we are heading for? With the heart-rending situation where it is reported that our educational standards continue to nose-dive because our universities lack facilities befitting institutions of higher learning; when we cannot present one university among the best ten in Africa where we are the most populous nation; and yet with six more universities in the offing, someone is offering to thrill us into voting for him to become the head of this nation with the promise of yet more of the glorified “higher secondary institutions”?

And where are we heading in transportation”. From Lagos to Benin?,For how many years now have we been living with that horror, even after a Minister, looking chic in her (custom-made) over-alls, walked daintily over the less muddy section of the area, and pronounced immediate and lasting commitment to the rehabilitation of the road?

What about agriculture? Shall we at last produce enough to stop us importing basic necessities of life from our neighbours, or desist from exporting important crops needed for our own food in the country?

These are just a few of the burning issues which should engage our consideration in the entire pre-occupation of electing a new government for this nation. We are in a country where we have never had it so bad. That, in itself, warrants the prescription for a change. What are the new directions we have mapped out for security? How can we be made safe from marauders, and kidnappers, and swindlers – to say little of armed robbers and hired killers whose heinous activities now seem to have paled into insignificance against the backdrop of pervasive mayhem across the land.

That is why I keep asking myself how we can so comfortably throw ourselves into the frenzy of elections that do not clearly – even dimly – map out some idea of how these problems that mill around us as though by nature, can be tackled. The old platitudes can no longer suffice in this season of constant emergency.

We do not yet seem to have a clue as to how to provide the all-important sufficiency of electricity power in practical terms in a land which buys back the refined petroleum products which she mines from her own soil but cannot refine for herself, since she cannot, or will not, make her own refineries functional.

This is the time to present a workable scheme to the people to obtain their endorsement. But only the hollow promises of a decade ago are brought back and garnished, to match the shiny electric generators that now compound a sub-culture of well-being even in their enforced ownership.

Nobody seems to care. Come and register, they all say; vote and protect your vote. Okay, I will. But no one in his upper seventies – and right mind – will spend four hours leaning on a wall, or sitting in the debilitating harmattan breeze waiting for the voting machine to become operational.

The indications right now are that a considerable number of the citizens may be unable to register before the deadline. People are already calling for an extension of the period for registration. INEC definitely did not come up smelling roses at the initial stage. Even people who were eager to register were bitterly disappointed. Several of them were beginning to forgive INEC for what appeared at first to be mere “teething problems”, but have now assumed the guise of sheer incompetence.

So, here we go again into a “credible” Nigerian election. It would still be generally credible anyway. Even if it all ends up not being free and fair, would that be incredible in our dear country? A..’1d several of the voting machines are said to be old, though the impression was given that they were all factory fresh. Is that not also credible in Naija?

In any case, we are a believing people. We hope in all things; trust in all things; believe in all things. It will be well with us. I sincerely believe that to be true. I shall defy the dusty atmosphere and brave the harmattan. I will register to vote. It is my right as a Nigerian. I am a Nigerian and I do believe in miracles. So I will persevere and stand up for hours waiting for the “miracle” machines to work. All will be well. But if you want to walk on the water, you must get out of the boat. If you haven’t yet registered, join me.

*****
I remember the young man from whose lips warm smiles darted out as he spoke about his hopes for his state, Ogun State, if he could win enough votes to be governor there. That was over eight years ago in Agbara which I had always assumed to be a part of Lagos State. It looked, and still looks, like a sub-urban area to the city of Lagos. But this young man, named Gbenga Daniel, left no doubt in my mind that it was merely on the outskirts of his State, but was totally a part of it all the same.

His house-to-house method of campaigning was rather refreshing, though the old platitudes came on board on some part of the trip. I liked his spiel but felt he was too refined, too rehearsed – too smooth. He has since done much of what he promised, but more besides.

He has helped to drive the spirit of democracy into the ground in his beloved State to the disenchantment of those good people, amongst others, who believed in him. Like I indicated above, I never got carried away by his cloying oratory anyway.

I never believed in the altar at which he worshipped either. It was, and still is, a patchwork of faulty tapestry looking for substance behind a spurious facade. It lacks vision, defies definition, presents no clear-cut principles and moves ponderously with leviathan imprecision from one folly to another.

There has been a series of movements against the return of the PDP to government at the national level. The opposition appears too scattered to achieve that at the moment, but at least, the ACN can take over Ogun State along the other areas of the old Western Region. And Asiwaju Tinubu can do it.

Those who can see the goodness beyond just Lagos State will discern what the strength of a progressive party can achieve. And the potency of that strength must manifest in terms of size as well as cohesion in order to be credible.

Time out.