admin
I have restrained myself from appraising the media spotlight on the “natashious saga” between Sen. Natasha Akpoti Uduaghan and the Senate President, Godswill Akpabio. Whilst the Senator representing Kogi Central has an inalienable right to thrust her social profile in the public square, I vouchsafe to appraise this perspective from the prism of the ultra-dynamic stratosphere of politics particularly one with some melodramatic salacious icing on the cake. Such as this! The varying interests within and, beyond the Red Chambers, the intricate web of intrigues, the power play and perhaps the “egunguns beating the natashaic” dundun drums, the darkling moles within and without, the high wired drama of power, pride and, influence are all corralled into this drama that has distracted the Nigerian Senate this past fortnight.
Dundun drum is one the most distinct in sound, rhythm and, has the potential to add depth to our peculiar African beats. When played with other related drums, its profound impact can elevate a musical ensemble to an unimaginable realm like some aphrodisiac. It is a realm of phantasmagorical illusion draped in grandiose absurdity like a debilitating sitcom; a staged act!
And some of us who lived then in face-me-ah- face-you compounds way back in Lagos as children witnessed a beehive of drama. Such were the dramas that one had to queue for most things. From using conveniences to fetching water in the well or tap, queuing was often the norm. However some “rasta pipu” could upturn the apple cart via available smart options simply by doing the opposite of what is right. Such was it then. And quarrels and malices were constant fixtures. Most of today’s “aje butter pipu” didn’t have to “fight for a living” as we did then. But one drama happened to a combative Madam Akponto. A comic show that was a delight to most tenants in Fatawu Ade Street then. In those days, we children used to hang around to see ‘wetin go shélé for compound,’ whenever there was a loud feud between our mates or neighbours. But more fights happened in the house of the Akpontos. It was always the rambunctious voice of Madam Akponto that we got used to the most. We would hear, Sir Akponto begging in muffled tones “if I had known dat dis ná how you go dey beat me, ah for no marry wicked woman like you. A don too suffa for your hand.” We quickly nick-named her, “iyá élégbá.” The one with the cane!
As it is wont to be in the above sort of compound, every convenience was shared and used via a system of first come, first served. It was here that I first learnt to survive on War Against Indiscipline (WAI); a terminology that became President Muhammadu Buhari’s mantra in his tenure as the Military Head of State.
So this Saturday morning, we heard screams in the hallway. And the voices were those of Mama Akponto and Iyá Sikirá. Iyá Sikirá was our favourite amongst most mothers. She used to fry puff-puff in front of the compound. And most of us who loved puff-puff ran errands for her just to earn a few hot spicy puff-puff in return. As in, “no work, no awoof puff!” Somehow, I still love puff-puff till date. Jah help me!
So we heard, Baba Akponto screaming, “winch, she wan sofakate me –o. Helep mi o. Pipu come o! Madam wan use my head make moni o.” So, as “ámébó” children, we ran out to see ameriká wonda. Thank goodness, my parents were out. So I used my koro-koro eye to see magic. Di blows wey dey land from Madam Akponto reach to “kiii elephant.” Some bachelors came to rescue Baba from Mama’s hand. No show. Na so di bachelors dem run comot. The blows were too professional. Three weeks after the pounding of Baba Akponto, another show happened.
Iya Sikirá was in the bathroom (we used to call it baffroom) when Madam Akponto kept knocking on the door and persistently threatened Iyá Sikirá to come out of the “baffroom” as she was in a hurry to visit a relative with Akponto. The one inside was persuading her and pleading that she be given a few minutes to bathe as she had just entered the bathroom. Before Jack Robinson could open his mouth, Mama Akponto flung the rickety door open.
According to the first responders aka ”amébós” who arrived the scene, Iyá Sikirá was literally super charged with anger like when Jehovah called out Adam and Eve when their medulla oblongata was reset after they had tasted the forbidden fruit. Women rallied round Iyá Sikirá, tied her wrapper wellu-wellu.
From there professional gbos-gbás as we used to watch on our black-white TV happened before us. Mighty Igor could be equated as a small boy before Iyá Sikirá. The punches were so perfect that some of us were dodging them like we were the ones receiving the communion of blows! Nobody believed what they saw. At this time, we the amébó children in the compound joined the match with our commentaries: “aha, ábég dis is too much o. Noo, e no komplit o Iyá Sikirá. Madam Akponto face neva rise like your puffu…puffu. Okay ehehen…di mouth dey rise. Oyá di teeth for front nkó? Ná only one teeth we wan see as evidenz.” We had no idea that Iyá Sikirá had so much power to the point of subduing the noisy Madam Akponto to the ground. She was rolling Akpondo on the ground like a wrap of ámálá. Like puffu…puffu wey wan kolapse.
Meanwhile Baba Akponto had arrived the scene and wanted to “chook his swollen mouth into the women matta”. One woman who was sympathetic to the plight of Baba Akpondo admonished him, “instead of you to learn how Iyá Sikirá get power komot your wife teeth, you dey hia dey shake like say you get fevariasis. If na mi bi you a for use dis opontinities land am smool slap for her facii.” And that was it. Iyá Sikirá became our champion. Some of us who were bold asked Iyá Sikirá to teach us smool wrestling to dey hep us do smool wonda for di compound! So was her shame that Madam Akponto went from shurch to shurch asking every prayer warrior to deal with Iyá Sikirá. Like a twist of fate, Iyá Sikirá’s puff-puff business boomed. We, her supporters went the extra mile to remind her that she was our heroine. That came with extra puff-puff too.
Even the bible is replete with the history and the influences of women. Eve led a revolution that changed the original organogram of Eden.
Delilah was notorious in her exploits in disarming Sampson, a Nazarine Judge in Israel. She coaxed Sampson into the hands of the Philistine leaders. Her task was to unravel the power of his strength and, therefrom came his destruction. Sampson a once powerful warrior whose strength was in his hair was beguiled into accepting those coquettish dramas as signs of love by Delilah.
Also, Jesus, the Saviour of the world had one of most tragic betrayal by a disciple whom he did not offend. In both narratives, the ones who drew the swords were persons they had dined with. Persons they had helped or worked with. They were persons they trusted. In both instances, there were motives and personas fanning the classic embers of hate, power play behind those treacherous scenerios. The boldest faces became the key dramatis personae. The historical actors. The masks behind the rumbles. The darkling moles within.
By the way Sen. Natasha Akpoti Uduaghan is no minion in the public space. Her coquettishly pleasant disposition with the capacity to push behind the boundaries into the public space is phenomenal. She is a great act at the framing of empathic perspectives within the framework of gender. When she chose to face Chief Uduaghan in 2020, she did so in a manner that may have kept the Chief in a flight mode. And she went on to slam him with 10 billion Naira for the following:
*compensation for consultancy, and other services rendered to you , loss of financial opportunities and earnings, loss and impairment of reproductive organs, feticide, pain and suffering, assault occasioning harm and breach of promise of marriage.” (Culled from FB: INDEMNITY PARTNERS. signed: CHIEF B.C. IGWILO, SAN. Date: 9th November, 2020. Addressed to: Chief Emmanuel Oritsejolomi Uduaghan. Alama of Warri Kingdom, 37, Apapa Road, GRA, Port Harcourt, Rivers State).
The rest of what transpired between both in 2020 and the present as they say is history. History is like the flows and ebbs of rivers. Change is predictable to the extent of the seasons and circumstances. Somehow, as they say in the street parlance, “miracle no dey tire Jesus.”
Events these past weeks since the saga of the six months suspension with a window for Sen Natasha Uduaghan to offer the Senate some apologies has alleged been rebuffed by her. Instead, she has chosen to frame a matter that was solely a matter of constitional ethics of the National Assembly to sexual harassment. Whilst I have my reservation on this the subject of sexual harrassment as many a man have been subjected to this framing to push for empathy within the sphere of the gendar space. I vouch safe to align my objective appraisal of many a man who have been so subjected to allegations without proof of evidence or when a potential “Delilahic” advance is rebuffed or scorned. The phrase, “Hell nath no fury like a woman scorned…” from the play “The Mourning Bride” by William Congreve is a potent classification of the anger a woman scorned.
Again a woman’s tempestuous fury and pride could have the debilitating potential to sink its ship alongside others.
Whilst Sen. Natasha Akpoti Uduaghan has the right to liberty of expression and actions anywhere she wishes to seek succour, a few pondering comes to mind: Are there other motives behind this mask?
Where there instances where her rights were denied her within the National Assembly? As a matter of fact, Sen Ireti Kingigbe was quoted on National TV as saying that amongst the four female Senators in the Senate, Sen. Natasha was the most privileged. And yet the three other women kept their heads and eyes on the ball. No drama.
Of cause a bilateral National Assembly is a bouquet of diverse political interests and intrigues. Politics at that level is largely participatory guided by the dictionary of legislative rules and ethics. Where there other divergent political interests that were largely driven by non-altruistic purposes, largely to heat up the Red Chambers?
Are there other dramatis personas behind the scene who are beating the dundun drums with Sen. Natasha Uduaghan as the face of the megaphone?
Is she truly the face of the many women who have elegance, beauty, intelligence, candour and excellence but have chosen to live a life of service without the drama that could deny others of opportunities and trust especially in the political and corporate world?
Are there character patterns within the spectrum of certain classes of persons to assign pride, arrogance and a phantomised sense of self worth that defies certain statutory norms and ethics as worthy of emulation?
Can some actions the social norms prime as gender harassment truly as whereas it is not but rather wrapped in the cupboard as a tool for vendetta?
How does our society respond to emotional patterns of framing that subject both men and women to biased opinions without proof of verifiable evidence?
Note, I completely abhor sexual harassment and such related impediments to women’s rights and privileges. But in my dealings with some women, sexual harassment has been used as tools for socio-political empathy and blackmail. Most innocent men have found themselves shamed out of their homes and careers by the inordinate tantrums of women purporting sexual harassments. Most have sold their empires on account of the blackmails of combustible women. Most men have gone into permanent hibernation on account of the incessant brawls and victimisation by their spouses. Can the alleged case of Chief Uduaghan by Sen. Natasha Akpoti be somewhat of a pattern? A pattern most would pray not be victims of. But somehow the voices of men are drowned because it is perceived that the vulnerability of women backed by the ocean of tear glands we are endowed with is the magic wand of empathy. I have witnessed a woman beat her husband to a near pulp and at the same time playing the victim and screaming hell, “e wan kiii mi o. He wan kiii mi…o.” I have seen women with the glory of peacocks bring down good men with a flip of their painted claws. I am a woman and I empathise with my women folk for being a large majority with just a few to speak in the political space. Therefore it is imperative that we do the most for the good of many. Where pride seeks to lead, we let honour rule. Where pawns seek to deploy our intelligence to upset the apple cart, we apply wisdom to guide our emotions and dignity our essence as leaders in our spaces knowing that amongst the millions of women, just a few represent the legion of women. We choose our struggles with dignified resilience knowing that history never forgets when we fall.
As at 2023, the population of women in Nigeria stood at about 115.176million representing 49.4% whilst the male currently stands at 118.153million (Source: Nigerian Population Clock (live). Date:14/3/25). Whilst the above numbers matched with a tiny privileged numbers of females in the political arena across all strata is troubling, it is imperative that the privileged few insulate themselves from dramatic absurdities that could drown the opportunities of other women. I abhor sexual harassment. But I abhor more the chaos and the yet unsubstantiated allegations that has the mould of classic vendetta.
