It’s really becoming annoying how no one believes I will run for the presidency, governorship or anything out there in 2015. My closest friends, at least that’s what I call my friends that I borrow money from on a monthly basis as if I’m drawing a share of their salaries, laugh every time I bring it up.
But, my patience hit a swirling fan earlier in the week when I brought it up with the wife. “Please don’t use me to research a screenplay. I’m not in the mood,” she scoffed.
In some countries, they hang people for treason for even having thoughts like that. But, this is the 21st century; you say hanging and people scream human rights. You ask for food and they call you a sexist and when you say well, can I have the sex then, they tell you you’re an illiterate who went to a night school where there was no dictionary.
Anyway, I’ve come up with a game plan for 2015. And, since everyone’s doubting me, I’m gonna make the president Goodluck Jonathan pay for it. I’m going for his job. It’s about time someone who wears his hat backwards take over form the man who wears a bowler hat. This is the 21st century, people not the pre-colonial days!
First thing I’m doing is claiming I’m from the core north, somewhere like Gusau is perfect. Thank God I’ve eaten enough tuwo in this lifetime to qualify to be a Fulani on dietary grounds. The president had an agreement that he would only serve one term and give way to the north. I know this is the truth because one evening I read some governor from the north swearing the agreement exists then when I went to bed, I dreamt of the agreement. I saw it in my dreams! Of course, Jonathan is denying it! What’s he supposed to do? Say yes and fox trot back to the Delta? The girl who gave my happily married pastor syphilis on a trip to Hong Kong last year also denied the gift.
Next, I need a party because I know all those bad belle people at INEC would not register a man with a confused accent as the founder, presidential candidate and one-man national executive council of his party. So, I’ll join the opposition alliance. I I’m tall enough to impersonate General Muhammadu Buhari but I need to start exercising and bleaching though.
Every candidate needs a manifesto, even in Nigeria. I toyed with idea of just throwing down N1000 notes from helicopters with a post it on it that says, “more to come if you elect me”. But, I’ve been told that Lamido Sanusi may not give me a government-secured Central bank loan for that. And, he’s most likely to threaten any bank who grants me a political loan with extinction. Jeez, some people will do anything to keep their bosses in power!
Since I can’t get a monetary manifesto, I decided I’m going musical on the campaign trail. Everyone in Nigeria agrees we have problems. Even my friend’s drunken uncle who still thinks “that boy from Jos” is the head of state knows Nigeria has problems. Last time he saw me, he said, “there’s problem O, my boy! You know how much a bottle of ogogoro costs these days?’
Everyone knows one man is responsible for it. Goodluck Jonathan. Fuel crisis, Jonathan. Expensive foodstuff, Jonathan. Scarce beer, Jonathan. Pricy call girls, Jonathan. Cases of gout, Jonathan. Family problems, Jonathan.
So, I’m getting into the studio with my rapper friend and we’re going to cut the best campaign slogan ever. It’s so catchy I’m thinking they may move the grammy awards to Abuja next year. It goes, “when I say problem, you say Goodluck! When I say problem, you say Goodluck! Problem! Goodluck! Problem! Goodluck!”.
I will dance into Aso Rock with that chant.. I’m so sure of victory I’ve started designing my clothes for the inauguration. That would shut my yeye friends up. As for the wife, I’m marrying a traditional ruler’s daughter in each of the thirty-six states. That would set her straight.
Of course you know that after my slogan hits the airwaves, Jonathan’s annoying media folks are gonna come out and rewrite history. They will say the president’s name was never Goodluck and some drunken nurse wrote that by accident. Knowing these folks and how badly they need the northern votes, they may even claim his name was Abubakar and he was born in Sokoto to Delta parents who had brought fresh fish to their friends up north.
Not to worry, I have a campaign commercial ready to go. We who are in the know, know that the president’s name was never Goodluck. He changed it on the way to class one day when he saw Melford Okilo’s poster and decided he wanted to be a governor when he grows up. Think of it, who brings a whinny, crying baby home and name him goodluck. We know his real name and it’s not even as fancy as Ebere. That is out 11th hour campaign surprise.
I’ve gotta keep this last plan top secret so we can surprise everyone. In the very unlikely case I lose the election, I’m gonna sue and prove that the president is not trained to rule people. His degree’s in zoology. He went to school to learn how to take care of animals. I went to school to learn how to gossip about people. That makes me more qualified.
You wanna know who’s sweating hard right now? Yup, you got that right. The man himself. If you wanna join the winning train to Aso Rock in just two years from now, send me a fat check. I may just give you a oil well when I become his excellency.
Ose Oyamendan is a Hollywood-based, Nigerian filmmaker. You can follow him on his new twitter page at @iam_ose.