Democracy 101

I Know What Democrazy Democracy is

I wanted to paint the word “democrazy” over till it was gone but Aunty Primary Three beat me the last time I did that. She said I should simply draw a neat line over it. You can’t blame me. I was new to writing with pens. Pencils did not bring this much headache. Why couldn’t I wait to give up beloved pencil for biro? So, there in the neat line, you see the good education my parents paid for.

Those teachers back then taught us that “democracy is the government of the people for the people and by the people.” Boy, was it fun having a definition for once that had just four words, give and take a couple of preposition? It was fun, I tell you, and I shake my head for you if you did not know that definition. How on earth were you going to learn the gbim-gbim definitions of osmosis and photosynthesis then? So we loved that definition. The teacher who put the definition of democracy as the number one question was well liked too. It was a single word, “Democracy-Is-The-Government-Of-The-People-For-The-People-and-By-the-People!” We got up and swayed from side to side chanting it. We sat back smug. If I will add sweetener, I would say sit back, arms crossed with the smile and look of “beat that, dummie”, plastered on our faces. We only knew that we knew our democracy. Our country did not have democracy that time but we knew our democracy.

I belong to the generation of children born during the military era. We were taught Head of States, not President. Ask my kid bro who the Head of States is and he would wonder what you are talking about. We knew head of state, we did not know president. It was perfectly normal for us to sniff tear gas in the air and learn that the troublemakers had started again. Troublemakers were people who would not leave well enough alone. They will go and be provoking the government and getting killed. They were the crazies that would stone soldiers with pure water and get sprayed with bullets. No one would ask why they stoned soldiers or why the response was to kill them. Everyone would shake their heads and hoped their kids got the warning. Back then, 10 going on 100, fed on TELL, I said I wanted to study journalism. The looks I got said I was asking for a visa to the grave. You say what? Jour-what? I still had the definition of democracy locked in my memory card.

Then there was secondary school and the ultimate catastrophe. Teacher asked what democracy was. When we sang it, he said “Hmm, that’s correct but let me teach you another one.” So he gave us a long definition. Many of us good crammers were lucky to remember where the word “representative” “election” and all went. The old definition was good enough as it was, thank you. That is what I remember most easily today. I can force out the “new” definition but I liked it better when the definition was a chant, not a speech.

Someone has even said democracy means equal participation for all in governance through elected representatives. But as we would come to discover with many things afterwards, those people in school did not always get it right. We got democracy in Nigeria and then I learnt firsthand what democracy was.

I learnt from a good teacher, experience. I learnt that first it was representation all right, and you had better be thankful for that. How come you are so ungrateful to complain that it was not equal? We were meant to be careful about expressing dissatisfaction. Rome was not built in a day. Democracy is young, they said. Do you want the military to come back? There were doubts from a few angle, it was too good to be true that military governance could go just like that.

Many said democracy was too young anyway. Do you expect years of rot to be healed just like that? So we voted. It is democracy. Be satisfied. Even if the options were Bean Burger and Black-eye sausage to your non-vegetarian self or corned beef and tinned sardines to your non-flesh-eating self, it will be on records that you voted. It was your choice. You chose corned beef, we asked you. Why do you have that look on your face? I am cook bean burger. You chose me. If I turn your stomach, it is cook black eye sausage. He is trying to sabotage my culinary skills. He does things like sneaking beans into my pot at night. Can you beat that?

By the way, you complain too much. Wailers, that is what you all are. When there are people in other countries who do not get to vote and are still under dictatorships, you choose and you dare to complain? Listen, you know how these things play out.

Democracy is sweet. Let me tell you how. You are ignorant. Most times, you do not know what is right for you and your country. So, at the polling booths, you receive help. If you arrive with doubts about who to vote for, you become sure when you see stony faces that will banish your doubts immediately. You are spoilt. Confused wetin, when plenty rice and Ankara wrappers are being given? Wiser folks collect N5000 on the queue and do not have doubts. I heard somewhere in a Nigerian state, an entire local government was robbed for hours. Day light robbery... they were held at gunpoint. Do you know what I found interesting?

That they would later see the gang leaders on television and be powerless to do anything about it...

That by the time the robbers left, money was intact, no material property had been carted away.

The only thing they had stolen was the people’s mandate. The people voted at gunpoint. They were robbed of their choice...

They say democracy is a representative government where everyone has a say in the government, I have been saying, everybody has been saying.  Does anyone listen to us? Does anyone think about us?

Spoilt child that you are, complaining... did you know that one Yoruba word for democracy is “al’agbada”? , that is, those who wear agbada... This is the government of agbada-wearers. Why then must you complain about their expensive wardrobe allowance when you voted them in to wear agbada? Wasn’t that why you voted them in?

I know what democracy is. No school taught me this. Once, our leaders wore khaki. We did not like it because their faces were too strong. Their voices were too hard. They put trouble makers in prison. They shot troublemakers. They looted us blind. They did not ask anybody’s opinions before they crowned themselves. Then, we wanted democracy. Our leaders wear agbada now. They smile. Their voices are not always too hard. Once in a while, they tell widows to go and die. But when we talk, we have a say, right? They invite the widow to dinner... Most importantly, they wear agbada, dasall.