Of Democrats and Iscariots

Christopher Fomunyoh of the Washington-based National Democratic Institute, NDI, fame was invited by Dr. Felix Nkongho Agbor Balla to talk democracy, civil society and discuss other such issues as touch the very nerve and soul of a country that has invariably been ruled and ruined over time by five star dictators, cheered on by sycophants and despicable, albeit, mean cringers..

Attendance at the intellectual colloquy was encouraging; pretty encouraging. The narrative of that Monday evening was impressive. Fomunyoh was at his very intellectually humble best, “caressingly rousing the rabble.”

He had, conveniently decided that everyone else in Agbor Balla’s spacious parlour was as blind as the proverbial Six Blind Men of Hindustan, who went to see the elephant, hoping, of course that by mere observation, each one of them would determine the shape of the big animal.

Needless to state that all six returned with six different notions of what an elephant really was like, depending of course, on what part of the big animal each one of them touched.

Fomunyoh’s apparent philosophy was for none of the many eggheads in attendance to be rail-roaded into for example, seeing democracy from the lenses of somebody of this didactic teacher, who would constrain his pupils to cram, regurgitate and score marks out of ten.

And so even when the narrative shifted towards interchanging and redefining concepts to suit prevailing moods, political circumstances and climates, he still stuck to what could be perceived as an ideal definition of democracy.

It was Bernard Muna who argued that democracy basically translates to freedom; freedom movement, to vote and be voted, of association without the irritating encumbrances of having to obtain permission from a DO or any such tin god to hold rallies, meetings and all that.

Here, Private Eye agreed with Muna. Like him or hate him, the man who stuck out his neck one way or the other, when democracy seekers in the turbulent 1990’s could only hit and run for cover.

Muna raised the dicey issue of who was prepared to go the whole hog, to water the democratic tree with their blood, to pay the ultimate price, like the Steve Bikos of this world.

Private Eye scanned Felix’s spacious parlour, hoping by some happen-chance, to see “Chop Die”, the convenient democrat who has been stealing the baby’s milk, so to speak, robbing the dying, attending their funerals and crooning about so called democratic values.

But the only other turncoat my eyes fell on was the impostor and one time beneficiary of blood cash from the local Gestapo. Of course, he ensured that he was heard; he struggled as often to distract the sniffing dog from the direction of the bone, so as not to be pelted and shamed for the whimpering chameleon that he truly is.

The point here is that Iscariots and other rented spies were also in toe, prodding on the real freedom fighters, nay, dyed in the wool democrats to rattle on, and constitute the menu for their paymasters’ attention and analysis.

Fomunyoh read their body language. And as if in telepathy, he and the Master of Ceremony kept reminding genuine democrats and Iscariots that nothing was off the record. Fomunyou said everything he said could be quoted, with recourse to fair play and common sense, of course.

And how Fomunyoh spilled such erudite beans as well as raise enough dust to at once, be-cloud and clear the cobwebs of conspiracy from the putrid minds of Man Fridays, bottom women and moles. But come to think of it. Fame Ndongo ought to have been cordially frog-marched to the Fomunyoh debate, where he should have been decently civilized and ostensibly converted.

Better still, he ought to have been cajoled into the fray, even if to be told in the language of iguanas, which he seemingly understands best that there is life after power. And that even though he is not yet vomiting on his shoes like our own “Chop Die”, the probability of him eventually taking off in a hurry, in search of a grave like the rest of his ilk in foreign climes is palpable.

But that if he opts for the dangling humble pie and makes his peace with the Christly “Anglicans”, he may yet avoid the fate of the foolish fly that follows the corpse into the grave.

And now… back to this our democracy thing. Democracy is like this sweet, little, cute baby which everyone else is ever so eager to cuddle.

Howbeit, some cuddle it with “chuku-chuku” hands, just like “Chop Die”, whose gluttonous propensity prodded him into mortally wounding the Postal baby.

By the way, Private Eye holds that democracy is not a destination but a process. Democracy doesn’t start and end with so called democratic elections, whereby con men end up “winning” mayoral, parliamentary and even presidential terms with no codified programmes, no blue print about how they want to run the

polity.

Democracy goes far beyond lying, cheating stealing and hoodwinking the Diaspora”