By Donu Kogbara

I’M sorry if this sounds very irresponsible, shallow and cynical, but I’m totally bored by the so-called drama that is swirling around Ms Arunma Oteh, Director-General of the Securities and Exchange Commission, SEC, and Hon. Herman Hembe, Chairman of the House of Representatives’ Capital Markets Committee.

As these two senior public servants sling all manner of bribery-related allegations at each other, the question that keeps reverberating through my world-weary mind is: “Who Cares Who Offered Whom What And Why?”  

Yes, it has finally happened, Dear Vanguard Readers! I have been exposed to the relentlessly corrupt atmosphere in this country for so long that I am no longer shocked – or even remotely interested in the minutiae – when I hear government officials being accused of giving and/or receiving bribes. And it’s not as if the sums that Hembe and Oteh are talking about are large by Nigerian standards.

As far as I can make out, neither of the protagonists allegedly requested or allegedly offered more than N45 million…a fortune for regular citizens like me and 99 per cent of Nigerians but mere chicken-feed in the corridors of power. Often, the millions referred to in gossip sessions about bribery are dollars or euros.

I have no idea whether Hembe/Oteh are innocent or guilty (my apathy is so acute that I haven’t bothered to read beyond the first paragraph of any news report in which their matter is being discussed, so I don’t have a clue about the nitty-gritty details or any opinion about who is telling the truth or not).

And I’m willing to give both of them the benefit of the doubt (there are a few civil servants and political appointees who never behave unethically; and it’s possible that Hembe or Oteh fits into this thinly populated category).

But cash-for-favours is such a normal part of life here. So much so that when I was invited to become a Minister’s Special Assistant a few years ago, many of my friends and relatives called me to meetings at which I was told in no uncertain terms that I must forget about the “Oyinbo” values I’d imbibed when I was growing up in the UK…and fully embrace the Nigerian way of doing things.

I was sternly assured that if I didn’t massively enrich myself (and them!) before I left that job, they would not only regard me as stupid, suicidal and selfish but would be very reluctant to help me if I ever had money problems.

When I pointed out that I wasn’t terribly streetwise or entrepreneurial by nature and asked these finger-wagging advisors how I was supposed to amass the vast amounts they were convinced I could extract from the system, they came up with various recommendations, one of which was that I should compel anyone who wanted to see my Boss to pay me a substantial “access fee”.

Till today, the majority of Nigerians I know find it hard to believe that I sheepishly ignored this advice and exited from the Ministry after nearly four years with less than N100,000 in my bank account. And most of the few who do believe me are immensely irritated by my failure to aggressively capitalize on that “golden opportunity” to make big bucks from a government position.

And, yes, it is extremely difficult to persuade anyone to assist you if you are deemed to either be lying about your financial situation or to have wasted a chance to generate wealth for yourself, your family and your close pals. And, yes, there have been times in recent months when I have bleakly concluded that I must have been insane to leave that job with near-empty pockets.

Let’s face it: Corruption is not a big deal in Nigeria because scrupulous honesty is not a highly esteemed commodity in our society.

Moral lapses

Here, people tend to be criticized and subtly punished – rather than rewarded and admired – if they are completely straight. And they generally only get into trouble for moral lapses if they upset someone who is more important than they are. And they generally only publicly accuse each other of corruption because they dislike each other…and not because they regard corruption per se as an offence.

So, given that we are all human and products of our environments in one way or another, I really don’t expect Oteh, Hembe or any other Naija VIP to be stainless paragons of virtue who always conduct themselves with maximum integrity. And that is why I find the fuss their case is attracting tedious.

Joining the club

A YOUNGER cousin of mine called me last week to complain about the Chief Executive of a State Government organization he works for.

My cousin feels that the man in question is not as principled as he should be or claims to be; and my cousin is angry because, according to him, the man in question has ordered him to falsify some documents; and because I’ve been known to boldly oppose injustice and dishonesty in the past, my cousin expected me to support his refusal to cooperate with the man in question.

But, as I said earlier, I have gradually and sadly concluded that corruption is so normal and deep-seated in Nigeria that trying to be different is not only futile but self-destructive. And I told my cousin about the terrible trials and tribulations that I have been through because of my own rebellions and advised him to learn how to toe the line and obey his Oga’s instructions.

My cousin was very disappointed. He didn’t want me to tell him how to protect himself and join the club. He wanted me to encourage him to be a hero.

What would you have told him if you had been in my shoes?