Of Friendship, Rot and A System Lost
By Osuolale Oluwatomilayo
My father once said, “Politics is about familiarity and friendship.” I was about five years old at the time, so I did not understand what he meant. Goodluck Ebele Jonathan had just been sworn in as the President of Nigeria shortly after the death of Umaru Musa Yar’Adua. How I remember this, I do not know, but a sharp memory has a way of keeping things in store.
I remember witnessing a turbulent political game, one ultimately overturned by the chant, “Say Buhari, Say Baba!!,” and this was when Goodluck Jonathan had to vacate Aso Rock.
Some people, still haunted by the drastic change in power and the subsequent downturn in quality of life, continue to blame this particular transition for the tribulations we now face, even after endless promises of price regulation and economic relief. But those who, like me, have always been politically inclined know that our problems didn’t begin there. They started the moment the architects of our independence either died or stepped away from the helm.
In a similar fashion, people are quick to say that ever since Adewole Yinka, popularly known as Mascot, the 2021/22 Students’ Union President, left the Kunle Adepeju building, everything went downhill.
But that too is false, because deep rooted problems do not suddenly erupt. It takes years of quietly brewing tension and systemic decay for an anthill to finally crumble.
These are the latter days we spoke of at the beginning of this session, or better still, it is that very moment when the atmosphere reeks of desperation, hidden agendas, familiarity, and “I-know-that-guyism.”
Rumors are already beginning to set the few surviving patches of green grass ablaze. Kinikan has started making moves to “come,” and it’s only a matter of moments before we see the graphics, etched in the same sorrowful fonts, plastered across walls that read “Tamẹdo is coming.” But we already knew of your arrival long before you boarded the train.
Returning to my opening line, politics truly is about familiarity, friendship, and “I-know-that-guyism.” The leaders who currently steer the wheel of the Kunle Adepeju building also act as major stakeholders in determining the next crop of executives. There is little left for the rest of us to do but watch as the story unfolds, because that particular AGS in that particular faculty, the one now eyeing the AGS seat in the building we all hold dear, just happens to be a friend of a friend. And perhaps, it has always been that way.
The purpose of this flashback is not to confuse you but to clear your doubts. So let’s trace things back to the 2023/24 session, when everyone was “coming,” and the then-president, Aweda Bolaji, was fraternizing with a group of students, trying to gather support for a candidate who, fortunately or unfortunately, did not secure the office.
Maybe some truths are better left in the shadows. Still, the undeniable fact is this, those who have subtly hinted at their intent to run for office are friends of friends, and the whole machinery that drives one into power is not fueled by the students or the press, but by the incumbents already in power.
So fix your gaze and focus your magnifying glass on the political trend in Nigeria, and you’ll begin to understand. Even President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is a friend of former President Muhammadu Buhari.
Once again, “friendship.”
After witnessing and surviving a rigorous electoral process, one that shifted with the tides like an unpredictable ocean current, even the blind could foresee what lies ahead. The just concluded CBN elections were nothing short of entertaining even to bystanders who refused to participate. Freshmen and staylites alike paraded from hall to hall, prostrating, begging, and campaigning for votes. Suddenly, everyone was humble. Suddenly, everyone became “for the people” until they were no longer.
All of a sudden, prostrating wasn’t beneath anyone. We’ve seen this scene replayed time and again, like a scratched CD stuck on repeat, always spinning back to the same tired tune and the same bitter consequences. You would think that being trapped in a cycle of unending political turmoil would eventually lead to a different outcome. But somehow, this vicious cycle shows no sign of breaking anytime soon.
Now, even the freshmen have been drawn into this dangerous game of konibaje-ism, a game powered by the invisible hands of godfathers and “friends,” birthing a society with no return ticket. A beautiful era of continuous tradition if you ask them, but in actuality, is a visible era of unending ruin. They are now breeding a system that suits their wants. A system powered by connection and familiarity that grants even those not worthy of title a chance to stand and say “Greetings from Kunle Adepeju…”
They say, “What an elder sees while sitting, a child cannot see even from the tallest tree.” But in today’s world, you don’t need to be an elder in Zik Hall to witness and experience the rot in our society. Democracy, it seems, is now a fading illusion. Maybe only those who once fought for our independence can save us if, by some miracle, they were to be reincarnated. Yet, what are the chances they wouldn’t be swallowed by the very system their descendants have entrenched?
Alas, we wait. We wait till it all stretches out clearly. We wait till we can see what the next semester holds. What stories would be told and what events would again be rewritten till it sounds like an anthem. So, this isn’t farewell, it is a letter anticipating what is to come. One that is to prepare you for the game you might have witnessed before but will play out in even funnier circumstances. It is not your fault the system is lagging, it might be for not talking but again, as you vote smartly when you should, sit back and watch it all unfold.
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