I have read Kayode Fayemi's generous and gracious concession speech in the face of a defeat that is so thorough and overwhelming in scope. I commend his gesture. I am happy with the reaction that the said speech has begun to generate. It is indicative of our hunger for a new political culture. However, there is a little problem. I am worried about what many of these reactions say about us and our attitude to memory. I am encountering such hyperbolic gems as "unprecedented", "unheard of", "never before seen" in frenzied reactions to this concession speech. This attitude has graver implications beyond the speech. We have trouble with the precedence of innovation. We have trouble with the memory of innovation. And this goes into the heart of our political practice. Every new government wipes out every trace of innovation in the governments that preceded it to create room for hyperbolic descriptions of its own programmes as the origin of innovation in Nigeria. Consequence: no culture of continuity because we have no memory of anything.
As Speaker of the Federal House of Reps and Nigeria's fourth most important citizen, Dimeji Bankole was a colossal failure and disappointment. He was the statement my generation made to Nigeria: forget us when we attend Oxford University, read all the books in this world, and return home talking to you in hurriedly acquired Cockney. We have nothing to offer. He was corrupt. Above all, he was a thief. Even President Jonathan who under normal circumstances rationalizes stealing would draw the line when confronted with the scale of Dimeji Bankole's stealing.
Much to the discomfort of his dependable media chief, my brother, Chief Kayode Odunaro, I was a thorn in the flesh of his boss throughout his years in office. I gave them a column koboko virtually every other week. Chief Odunaro would phone me in Ottawa to patiently counter every charge I made against his boss and I would tell him I wasn't convinced and warn him that more koboko would come the following week. He would sigh and we would end our conversations on a brotherly note, knowing that we would never agree on his boss.
Then his boss was shockingly defeated in an election in Abeokuta. Same day, before the country could digest that Eric Cantor-like earthquake, we saw what still ranks, for me, as one of the greatest, swiftest, and sweetest concession speeches in the history of our country. For once, Dimeji Bankole completely disarmed me and I phoned my brother Odunaro to congratulate him and his boss for that monumental contribution to our political culture. Chief Odunaro joked that "finally finally" his Oga did something I found worthy of praise!
As commendable as it is, Fayemi's concession speech doesn't even come close to Dimeji's in generosity (it still contains certain hints and reservations that folks have missed), evocative power, and prosaic beauty. Fayemi is merely continuing and building on a foundation laid by Dimeji Bankole. Let us engage something for once in our political life as a praxis of continuity. Those of you who are saying that you have never seen anything like Fayemi's concession speech in our political history are victims of our notoriously fugacious national memory. Some of you say Fayemi is your new hero on the singular strength of his concession speech. In that case, you got yourself two new heroes: Fayemi and Dimeji Bankole before him. Bankole's great concession precedence is just a click away. Why won't you click? Why?
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