A note to Doyin Okupe, a national hero, By Ose Oyamendan

Dear Uncle D,

I hope you don’t mind me calling you Uncle D. It just sounds really cool, like I’m sure you guys up in the presidency want the world to know, or is it think, you are. I guess your pals call you something like Doctor or Doyin but I’m very possessive, I like to have my own special closeness.

In a way, you are what I always wanted to be when I grew up. I like a man who packs a punch in his tongue. I like a man who wakes up in the morning and puts on his paws and goes after his boss’ enemies and enemies. I like a man who has the Republican mantra that he and his bosses would not be slaves to facts. I still want to be like you. I’m just realizing I may need some serious connections.

I thought of addressing you as Doyin Okupe but then I realized I would be like the disrespectable band of characters we loosely call journalists in Nigeria. They insist on calling you the full Doyin Okupe like they did put some money into the celebration bin on the day you were born. Makes you wish you were working for General Muhammadu Buhari instead, don’t it? Just think of it – you, the General versus the Nigerian press. I can smell Decree 4.5.

How is Rueben Abati these days? It seems he’s gone on a sabbatical. You know, I was confused when you got this job. I thought you were doing the same thing Abati does. I knew you were too busy so this position can’t be a lifeline to a jobless man. I also thought Labaran Maku sort of does the same thing too.

Then it dawned on me that this is a presidential political masterstroke. Abati takes his doctor thing too far and choses to debate instead of attack, reason instead of bully and quotes dead people instead of hanging out with the president until he falls asleep. Please, do tell the president I said bravo. He wanted a man and he got the man, you.

I hate it when people compare you to Femi Fani-Kayode. It’s so ridiculous its not even funny. First, your boss is so cultured he has a doctorate. Obasanjo was a chicken farmer and ex-pot belied soldier. Two, Femi is so fake he still has hints of that British accent from Cambridge. Your accent is so Nigerian it feels like its straight out of a car park. Three, is Femi even Nigerian? I mean, look at him – so vain he’s fit and dapper like he sleeps in his home gym. You and I look like a Nigerian should look – we look like we ate the gym.

I don’t envy you. Nigerians are a rudderless, loud bunch. It’s like going to a football game and everyone thinks they know better than the coach. Well, our coach has a Ph.D. Tell me how many countries are that lucky. The man looks at a problem, dissects it and has a beer. And, more beer. And, some people think Obama is cool.

I think you must be close to being tired with Nigerians already. They think they know too much. One day, it’s power. The next day, it’s petroleum subsidy. Another day it’s hunger or unemployment. What do they think the government is? Their daddy? I would suggest you tell Nigerians to start looking at their birth certificates every time they feel like complaining. Its time you let Nigerians know the government ain’t their mamma or papa.

You know, we were in a bar parlor the other day and wondering about the ship of the nation. Some said the captain was a dazed, confused sailor. Some others asked, “What ship?” A very unintelligent man even claimed the ship has been sold to the Chinese. Then, we all had a good laugh and told him we merely bought space technology from the Chinese.

By the way, have you had a chat with the president about that space technology thing yet? People claim it doesn’t exist. Some fools even wonder why a Godly nation like Nigeria would do the impossible – steal or develop their own space technology like every other serious nation.  Can you believe that? Crazy! It’s like saying since we’re buying space technology from the Chinese we might as well have given them the keys to all secrets. These folks are so silly they don’t even know the Americans and Julius Berger already have that covered.

I’m happy for you, man. The president needed someone to put his teeth on and go after his enemies and nemesis.  And, who better than you. Now David Mark and that Tumbler of a fella know they are in for a world of grief. Even Lai Mohammed now knows he can’t talk like he’s on radio anymore. The “doc in the villa” has verses he can slap him with all the way from Bourdillion to Ilorin.