A few days ago I spent a good deal of time discussing Nigeria with Niyi Osundare, a friend and inspirer whose poetry is as infused with social insight as his political commentary is sharp and intrepid. Our subject was—what else—Nigeria. Just returned from Nigeria, he had lots of stories to share, and insights about our shared nation’s mixture of middling progress and deeply rooted malaise.

We agreed that progress, while still miniscule on most counts, was not to be discounted. One example of cheerful news was how the miasma of public outrage swept former Speaker Patricia Etteh from the seat she had (effortlessly) brought into ridicule. Left to the designs of the PDP hierarchy, including Ahmadu Ali, Etteh would have been decorated with heroic garlands—and sustained on her perch.

We celebrated the verdicts of some electoral tribunals who, with admirable courage, had invalidated some of the more egregious impositions from last year’s record-breaking riggers’ circus that passed for Maurice Iwu’s elections. In particular, we recalled one of the high points in the Supreme Court’s recent
history: its widely applauded red card to Mr. Nnamdi Uba, the man who dreamed, and fantasizes still, of being Anambra governor.

Osundare and I even cast our minds farther back, to that buoyant moment when the Nigerian popular will asserted itself against the selfish and phony notion of third term. We recognized what a fine and spirit-boosting victory it was to rein in one man’s illicit fantasy that would have rained down perdition and despair on Nigerians.