A few years ago, a man was rushed to the family pharmacy. It was late at night. He had contracted the Yoruba’s response to promiscuity, Mágùn, known in the modern parlance as thunderbolt.
About four elderly men brought the ‘patient’ in a very bad shape. He was said to have started exhibiting the symptoms earlier in the day. But those around thought it was something else until one ‘wise’ elder ‘diagnosed’ Mágùn.
Yours sincerely was asked to administer the ‘prescribed’ dosage of the antidote. After about one hour, the ‘patient’ became stable. He was asked where he went to, and he mentioned the woman involved. You can as well guess: she happened to be the wife of a stranger who had come to the community to farm.
I whispered to one of the elders that that would be the third time the ‘patient’; a familiar face, would be requiring the family pharmacy’s services. The elders exchanged glances. After the ‘patient’ had fully recovered, one of the elders, a diviner of course, narrated a story from the Ifa Corpus.
I will tell the story presently. But its moral lesson reverberated as I penned this piece. What a man knows how to eat most is likely to be his undoing, the narrator summarised the story. It is a lesson in cautious philandering.
This is not the finest of times for the Minister of Works, David Umahi.
The former governor of Ebonyi State and controversy are like the proverbial Òdú vegetable (Black Nightshade), which our elders say is not a stranger to the farmer. The stories around him in the last couple of months have indicated that the man and controversy are like Siamese twins.
The thing about Òdú is that it a sprout anywhere in the farm, looks greener than any other vegetable; more nutritious; easy to uproot and very delicious when used to accompany èko, especially the Òyó type known as ori.
Like Òdú, Minister Umahi has his own peculiarities with controversy. Whenever his name is mentioned in the negative form, the object of discourse must be a beautiful woman. In the last five months, the minister has had his name mentioned in the negative over his erotic dealings with the daughters of Eve.
The women in the Umahi’s scripts are most times neither innocent nor ordinary. They, most often than not, have made claims of past phallic relationships with the former governor, whom many of the ladies alleged, is fast at tying towels round his rotund body whenever a female with a good figure appears in the horizon.
Umahi has survived many of the controversies with women. Some of his female accusers had had to come to recant on the amorous attempts they alleged he made on them. Nigerians, their doubts about such second stories notwithstanding, would eventually believe the minister’s version and move on.
The wise men of my place say the weeds the goat likes best will eventually kill it one day (koríko tó dùn mó eran níí pa eran). The truthfulness of the axiomatic submission appears to be coming home to roost in the case of David Umahi and the 26-year-old Kaduna physiotherapist cum nurse, Mary Habila, who was found dead (some reports also say naked) in the Ebonyi home of the former governor.
Yet another woman in Umahi’s life! Why him? Why women? Those are some of the questions Nigerians are asking. And I ask further: Why not him? If not him, who else? And if not a woman, which sex should it be?
These questions and many more will not go away easily. I hope Minister Umahi knows that. I do also hope he knows that even if he renames Nigeria itself after President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, nothing will divert attention from the death of Habila, her mission(s) in his house and the ‘why’ of her nakedness at the point of death like a lady delivering the ‘happy-ending’ icing at a spa!
This is why, since the news broke about the lady, her naked form and nature of her ‘work’ in the minister’s house, Umahi has engaged in what we say in our street lingo: e go explain tire! The only problem here is that the explanations are not adding up for many Nigerians.
The more Minister Umahi explains, the more questions are left unanswered. Even when he claimed that the deceased was ‘more like my daughter’, skeptical Nigerians still asked: ‘and she was found dead naked?’
Someone asked why Nigerians doubt the minister’s explanations. My simple response is in the saying of those before us: Bò se ún se kii jé kí a mo ojó ikú adákú (the reputation of the child with fainting spells will not allow people to know the day he will eventually die).
Umahi sure needs a senior advocate to present his case to Nigerians. I have one I can recommend; a sure banker in matters of this nature.
His name is Èsù! Yes, you read that correctly; Èsù, the trickster deity. He alone can explain Maria’s death satisfactorily and in a believable manner.
Èsù did it several times before. He can do it again. When? You asked. I will tell you just one instance in the aforementioned story as narrated below.
From time immemorial, the female folks have always been the hubris of mighty men. The wise one, Òrúnmìlà, was not an exception.
At a time in his life, Baba Àgbónirègún was almost a philanderer. Ifá, for reasons best known to him, started lifting ladies’ skirts indiscriminately. He was reckless at it that parents stopped sending, or, if you like, ‘seconding’ their daughters to Òrúnmìlà’s house to serve the sage.
But one beautiful thing about the strange lifestyle of the one many looked up to for leadership is that Òrúnmìlà would always consult the Oracle to know what the days held for him.
Repeatedly, he was warned to be wary of the opposite sex. On one particular day, Ifá asked Òrúnmìlà not to go to the market. The Oracle added that if he must go to the market, Òrúnmìlà must refrain from making advances at any strange woman. And if he must put his philandering skills into action, he was cautioned to first inquire about her family background.
When he asked what he should do in case he came across a woman he liked in the market, Ifá told him to make a sacrifice. Several items were listed. If he failed, the woman, Ifá further warned, would bring him distress. Òrúnmìlà simply laughed it off.
When a man becomes wiser than his ìpònrí (destiny), my people say the end is near. Òrúnmìlà looked down on his diviners. He told them to keep their counsel to themselves. He had seen more underpants than any man of his era. No strange woman was capable of causing him trouble.
Off to the market, Òrúnmìlà went. He needed to buy certain items to make sacrifices for his numerous clients. The first woman he saw was the most beautiful he had ever seen in his life. Òrúnmìlà forgot his mission to the market; Àgbónirègún went after beauty.
Within minutes, the woman agreed to be Òrúnmìlà’s woman. She parked her wares and followed Ifá home. Neighbours asked who she was. Òrúnmìlà said she was an obìrin òkè òhún (the woman from afar off). A woman in the harem wanted to ask if Òrúnmìlà knew the strange woman’s family members, Òrúnmìlà looked at her as if she was badly created by Obàtâlá. She kept quiet, concentrating on the melons she was breaking.
The new wife became the favourite. She moved straight to Òrúnmìlà’s room as the ààyò (favourite wife). She was the only one cooking for Ifá. Before cockcrow, Òrúnmìlà’s breakfast was ready. Paga! Baba Ifá exclaimed. ‘So, this is the woman I would have missed’, Òrúnmìlà told no one in particular.
For the first two days, the strange woman did not allow Òrúnmìlà to touch her. She said that her family traditions forbade such to happen until the third day. Wise as Òrúnmìlà was, he did not query the unknown tradition. Who says women are not in control!
On the third day, the woman was set. She asked Òrúnmìlà to go have a bath and come naked to the room. She too stripped, waiting with spread legs on the bed.
The narrator of this story didn’t say if Òrúnmìlà used any soap in the bathroom. All that was said was that Ifá had the fastest bath of his time that day.
While in the bathroom, Èsù, using esoteric powers, entered the room and strangled the woman to death. He covered her up and left the same way he entered.
Òrúnmìlà rushed out of the bathroom, his third leg betraying his excitement. He made for the woman on the bed, and reality struck him. The woman was as cold as the nostrils of a dog! Dead!
He raised the alarm but his voice got muffled. Èsù, who was waiting for the moment, entered the room. He saw the lifeless body and raised the alarm. He called on the neighbours to come and see a man who killed his wife in the course of having due benevolence with her.
Òrúnmìlà rushed at Èsù. He covered the trickster’s mouth, begging for mercy. Àgbónirègún begged the one called Laaroye to cover his shame. He admitted that he made a mistake by not heeding the warnings of his diviners. Òrúnmìlà promised to triple the prescribed sacrifice; after all, Èsù would still be the ultimate beneficiary.
Èsù agreed. Using his òpá ajé, the trickster deity made a covenant with Òrúnmìlà, who in turn used Ìyèrè Osùn Ifá to seal the deal. Then Èsù changed the alarm. Instead of asking the neighbours to come and see a man who killed his wife in the course of having due benevolence with her, he asked them to come and behold the corpse of the woman sent by the enemies to kill Òrúnmìlà, the repairer of bad destiny (atórí eni tí ò suwòn se).
Neighbours, relations and passers-by who gathered started heaping curses on the dead woman. Even Òrúnmìlà’s wives, who all saw the woman when she was brought to join the harem, denied ever seeing her before. Everyone congratulated Òrúnmìlà for defeating the enemy and seeing the end of the adversary (wón ńkíi pé ó ségun òtá, ó réhìn odì).
Òrúnmìlà started dancing. Bata drummers were in their dexterous form. Baba Àgbónirègún praised his Babalawo named AwífúnikágbóÀgbàìmòràn (it is profitable for the one warned to heed as that remains the best of counsel). He, in turn, praised Ifá.
As the narrative changed, Èsù asked for the sacrificial items. A willing Òrúnmìlà provided them in their buoyant numbers. He added àdí àáyán and several àkàsù èko to them. The trickster left happy and Òrúnmìlà stayed with his household, the disgrace of the damage his phallus would have been accused of causing, removed.
That episode is regarded as one of the best traditional spin doctor stunts by Èsù, who, in reverence for his interventionist agenda in the affairs of men, is called: Abélékúnsunkúnkíèrùóbaelékún (the one who weeps more than the bereaved such that the bereaved becomes scared).
Minister Umahi has tried all the tricks in the PR books to spin the story of Mary Habila. Nothing is adding up for the former Ebonyi State governor. His previous controversies with women are not just helping matters, and many remain unconvinced by the retraction from the female contractor who had earlier alleged that he made indecent sexual demands of her.
Many readily believe the account of the other woman who said that the minister once came clad in a towel to her room in the dead of the night. The fact that Mary was found dead and naked raised new posers. Physiotherapists and nurses don’t go about their trades in their birthday suits. What was Mary’s mission in Umahi’s home?
A man with such a not-too-good-history with women should not have been found in this type of ugly situation. Not even when Nigerians had yet to put down the cup of the last controversy. This is why those who are wondering if David Umahi is the only privileged man with a dangling member are justified. Their poser may not necessarily serve as the correct position of what transpired the day Mary died in Umahi’s house. It is just that it is becoming one-woman-controversy-too-many for the Works Minister!
When a man is accused of gluttony, he has the sole responsibility of cautioning his gastronomic tendencies. A nocturnal man should not be found playing with a goat in the dead of the night. It doesn’t matter who would eventually perform the autopsy on Mary, many are wont to believe that we live in Nigeria, where anything is possible with a big man. One thousand and one autopsies would not suffice to bring out the facts and to wit, do justice, in this matter!
And Minister Umahi is not just a big man; he occupies and presides over the ‘richest’ ministry in Nigeria today. The claim that Maria’s parents said that they were not interested in the autopsy raises another doubt itself. If my Ekiti elders were asked to describe the situation, they will tell you that hirá ulé ti dó’ko (those at home have gotten to the farm).
But, regardless of how well Umahi works to cover his tracks in this particular Habila case, it is a lose-lose situation for him. He needs more than his present spin doctors are doing. He needs more than the giddy stunt of naming an uncompleted project after President Tinubu in a bid to divert our attention. He should not feed us with that stale edible; we have the capacity to cook better delicacies!
To wangle him out of this newest mess, my mind raced to the story above. Only Èsù, with his inexhaustible basket of mischiefs, could be of help.
How does Minister Umahi contact Èsù?
Let him locate the agrarian Ekiti community known as Ijelu Ekiti. There, he will find the Aoro Èsù (chief priest), seated in his majesty, minding other people’s businesses.
May the food my mouth finds sweetest not kill me!
