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Bola Tinubu’s abominable reaction to the death of Mrs. Funke Olakunrin -By J. Ezike

“It is a great opportunity to convert this tragedy to prosperity. It has been destined that is the way she would go. You cannot change what is ordained by God.”

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J. Ezike

The chief mourner of the Yoruba extraction shuttled his heart of stone to the tent of grief. His condolence wore no black garment that concurred with the ceremonial honoring of the dead but took the exception of ironing his black perverted soul to ridicule the visceral anguish of his kinsmen. Like a man enforcing the command of the string master, perfectly displaying the intention of the wordless puppeteer, the chief mourner opted to revel at the tragedy that rested on the backs of the bereaved. And he, the chief mourner, deliberately forgot that by the virtue of his “prominent positioning” was expected to “smell” the tragedy rather than to “laugh” at it, or put a lipstick on its burial face, or call it a beautiful name or idolize it such that it is wrongfully excused as the master plan of The Divine.

One cannot, at once, sympathize with the bereaved and then pour slurs on the corpse that brought his grief into full circle. I am yet to understand it. I am yet to make sense of Tinubu’s custom of politics, his extravagant display of heartlessness that puts The Devil at the rear side of the burner. We have seen these Fulani herdsmen in their behavioral uniforms, gallantly seizing the expressways flanking the forest alleys of the South. They stood in their numbers of five and seven and eight…and shot sporadically on the unwary motorists, forcing their onward journeys to an abrupt halt. We remember their exploits at the Ibadan expressway, furthering their assault to every pockets of the Yorubaland. We remember the clouds of that time that turned gloom in the face of the ritual raping of a Southern woman, her daughter and the sodomic sacrifice of her husband in that trilogy of disaster. But the chief mourner in matrimony with “the One-Nigerian” media franchises: BBC, Channles TV, NTA, Silverbird TV, Sahara TV, Punch, Vanguard…all nursed the viral occupation of the South with predictable silence and propagandas. And so, we were told that these Fulani herders and hitmen of Sultan Muhammadu Sa’ad Abubakar were kidnappers and distant cousins of Evans, and church members of “Reverend King” and business partners of Father Mbaka. The lies keep swelling and the result is likely our frailty, as Southerners, before the murderous forces of the Sokoto Caliphate.

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But this banality of lies can never exonerate One-Nigeria. And Tinubu, who now acts as a lone champion leading the scripts of the Sokoto Caliphate and the extinction of the Yoruba race, its culture, its monarchy, its language, its heritage, will in the end deny himself, his wife, his children and his descendants unborn the rights over their destinies. It does not matter if it stems from the calendar of the future. It does not matter if his self-inflicted destruction emanates from the fireworks of war stretching from the ghettos of the South to the caves of the North. He will not grapple with his own tragedies and the grief that would plunder his vanity. He believes himself as untouchable, the most powerful and the All-seeing-eye. He equates himself as the “Number Thirteen” in the disciple of twelve. And the panegyric choristers who sing his praise, who prostrate to his universe, who defend the summonses of his hard conscience and who break bread with his divinity of darkness, and cling chalices of blood-wine on the table of the last occult supper are unwary of the grave cross and thorns that follows in its wake!

Tinubu’s abominable reaction to the death of Mrs. Funke Olakunrin, the daughter of the leader of Afenifere, should shame and disgrace the entire Yoruba race. If anything, his statement was brewed to drug the South with false reality and conceal the criminal hand of the Sokoto Caliphate in the smoke screen of feudal politics. And what I saw in his veneer of sympathy to the family of the deceased was merely a masquerade dance, a jeering gesture contrary to the mask of sadness he pulled off in the media, in the home of Pa Fasoranti in Akure. But the foremost question that should burn in the brain of any right-thinking Yoruba is: how does the violent death of Mrs. Funke Olakunrin, orchestrated by the incendiary forces of the North Nigeria, have anything to do with divine ordination?

“It is a great opportunity to convert this tragedy to prosperity. It has been destined that is the way she would go. You cannot change what is ordained by God.”

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The above statement was attributed to Tinubu. I serve this inquisition because his utterances seemed to gild his stupidity and elicited the most resentment from any reasonable human being. First, a citizen of the Yorubaland suffered an implicit murder. And we know from an objective standpoint that the killers were the weaponry of the Miyetti Allah, the same class of anarchists whose wandering feet and disease-ridden cows fanned across the farms of Benue, Enugu, Ibadan… and announced Danfodio’s message with incendiary bullets and machetes that swore to grab lands through murder. How then can somebody dedicate the glories of genocide against the Southerners as a great opportunity to transmute tragedy to prosperity?

A woman, hale and hearty, had her mind and her body in perfect condition in faraway America only to be gunned down on the ritual ground of “One-Nigeria” and was forced to exit the world untimely. And like thousands of One-Nigerians whose bloods serve as the fuel that keeps the British machine moving, did not escape the Dream of the Fulani jihadists. And it must be mentally registered that none of them proclaimed to play victim. None requested to be lowered to their graves before their sunset. None demanded of their Maker to tumble them into a tragedy of violent death. None wished to be riddled in bullets and left on the potholed roadways like some fantastic exhibitions of Fulani’s unbeatable power. And here we have a supposed Yoruba leader equating their “man-made” deaths as an act of God, as one worthy of jubilee rather than mourning. This is simply a justification of the deaths of Southerners by the Fulani herdsmen of the North.

I do not imagine, for instance, an American leader, I mean, a leader of the United States of America celebrating the deaths of its people murdered by external forces, by aliens of destruction as an act of God, as a tragedy disguised as an opportunity to be converted into prosperity. I would presume America to polish its arsenals, stir its righteous anger and do cosmic justice.

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But in One-Nigeria people die every day, through virtually same cause, by the same sword, in a country founded by criminality and saddled by a class of manic depressive, emotional weaklings like Tinubu whose reasoning are religiously impaired and whose incoherent actions are powered by bipolar disorder.

In this blooming bazaar of slaughter, in this period of Nigeria’s radical butchering of Southerners and Middle-Beltans by the North, an object of leadership in Lagos, in that British contraption would dare associate the murder of the victims as an act of God and valorize the killers with false identities.

Where is the angst against the shedding of Southern bloods? Why would Tinubu preserve his political life by giving the bloods of the South to the Sokoto Caliphate?

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To persist on this intimate evil is to go beyond the precipice. Tinubu, the chief mourner, must be a bastard to have defecated in the tent of grief, to have mocked the tears of the Afenifere leader, to have laughed at the corpse of his daughter and the many corpses that animated the symbolic essence of One-Nigeria, to have proscribed the convictions of the South. Tinubu, I repeat, must be a bastard to have chosen to mortgage the lives of “One-Nigerians” and above all, to have blamed the violent death of Mrs. Funke Olakunrin and other “One-Nigerian” victims of state-sponsored terrorism on the Igbo race.

We shall see where this greed of consequence will lead him and the seeds of his offspring. We shall see where it will lead the Yoruba people if nothing is done to checkmate his grave madness.

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