The Darkest Hour Is Upon Us -By Sonala Olumhense

What is the colour of the darkest hour, the one that is said to come “just before dawn”?

Black, I imagine most people would answer.  But that is wrong.  The darkest hour is the colour of day: clear, bright, sunny, breezy, beautiful.

The kind where few can imagine anything going wrong.  Yes, a conundrum, a contradiction in analysis, because everything appears to be perfect.

President Muhammadu Buhari has said, for instance, that the level of poverty in Nigeria makes him “uncomfortable.”

It is the Muslim fasting season of Ramadan, and he was speaking in Abuja at a breaking-of-fast ceremony for the topmost figures of his government.

Which is why it was ridiculous that, given the rich fare he made available at the expense of the people of such desperate circumstances it makes him uncomfortable, Buhari would then complain about the “inability” of the Nigerian elite to address their basic issues.

Too many people, he said, are going hungry.  He did not describe them as starving, just as being unable to lack food.

Under Buhari’s care, we became the poverty capital of the world.  Given the size of Nigeria and the spread and depth of her resources, that is an outrage.  It is enough to make you cry.

But it merely makes the Nigeria leader, ensconced in the opulence of the presidential palace and dressed in the most luxurious clothes, “uncomfortable.”

So uncomfortable that he thinks “the elite” must do something.

Not once during his diagnosis did Buhari say the word, government, or cite that apparatus in terms of treatment. And not once did he blame one Muhammadu Buhari, who heads that national apparatus, for anything.

But there was that point in the monologue during which he alluded to the success of his government with such “programmes” as school feeding and “Trader Moni.”

The feeding programme was long overdue, and despite a lot of lapses and limitations, I commend Buhari for implementing it.  On account of the serial failures of governments and programmes, Nigerians have learned to be happy with one candle where 10,000KW of electricity was promised or spent for.

Trader Moni, however, is a political gimmick: an ad hoc and unsustainable road show for which I lack both words and patience. Nothing describes its emptiness better than President Buhari’s picture of the Almajiris as he drives around the country, moving around in torn clothes, looking for food.

“The question of education (to them) is a luxury. I think Nigerian elite we are all failing because I think we should have a programme that will at least guarantee some basic education for our people no matter how poor they are.”

If you were born in the early hours of the same day you might have imagined that the man had only just assumed the robes of office. But as a leader speaking at the end of four years in office, Buhari deserved to be publicly jeered for his words of contrived concern.

To begin with, he does not “drive around the country,” because he commands far too many luxury presidential jets to suffer the indignity of driving.  He is a hypocrite luxuriating in the same jets about which he had lampooned his predecessor, swearing to sell or make them the foundations of a national airline.

He never sold them and never apologised.

And of course, he never established that national airline despite one month in July 2018 when his government showed up at an airshow in London with a computer-designed logo to announce it was launching “Nigeria Air.”

But it was a joke.  Not so Uganda Airlines, which was announced at the same time.  That one is preparing to launch in less than two months.

Buhari’s “Nigeria Air,” on the other hand, was simply another gimmick despite the Nigerian economy being even better positioned to benefit from the larger size of Nigeria’s flying population.

The truth is that for the Buhari government it always appears to be far too difficult to conceptualise a systematic scheme which can improve the lives of millions of people, and implement it speedily and robustly. It is easier to blame previous governments. Or alternatively, in voodoo economic thinking, to throw “trader moni” at a few people.

But there has been talk in the country lately, of the possibility of a “revolution.”  Revolution of the poor.  Revolution of the northern poor. This seems to be the background of the sudden poverty and Almajiri concern of President Buhari.

Sadly, while the world sees and talks about Nigeria’s poverty challenge, its leader sees it only as a problem for “the elite.”

It is of considerable interest that this “revolution-consciousness” was echoed days after Buhari’s appeal to the elite by the man who now calls himself SDM: Senator Dino Melaye.

Writing on Twitter last Friday, Melaye expressed fear of the “revenge of the poor,” citing Russia, France and Sudan.

“It can happen in Nigeria,” he said. “Housing segregation put us the elite in jeopardy. Ikoyi, Banana, Maitama, Asokoro, etc. Our leaders + me beware of violent revolution. Perilous times loading.”

Melaye, the former anti-corruption campaigner who became a senator and a champion of conspicuous consumption, despite owning no known investments, boasts rapturous riches of mansions and luxury cars.

He seems to feel that violent Nigerians will lump him in with the looters and others who cannot explain the source of their lifestyle, just as Buhari seems to think that if he blames the plight of Nigeria’s poor on “the elite,” neither Nigerians nor history will make him pay.

But despite his government’s propaganda, the challenge Nigeria had, is the same as the one she has: duplicitous, indolent and incompetent leadership.

That was the situation in 1983 during Buhari’s first stab at leadership when Chinua Achebe wrote “The Trouble With Nigeria;” and it is the same now, 30 years later in his return.  Until Buhari admits that he failed at that time, and has already failed a second time, he can succeed at precious little.

Buhari has little grasp of time, less still of man, and lesser of the issues.  The cabinet it took him six months to assemble would emerge one of history’s weakest and most impotent.  He did not need an economic adviser.  He transformed the corruption he came to “kill” from a cub to a monster, and established double standards, patronage and nepotism as standard operating tools.  He sleeps in Abuja but makes doctors’ appointments in London.

For Nigeria to move forward, we ought to borrow from China.  I mean their template or model, not their money. It is a template anchored on true appreciation of people, education and technology.

But you cannot do that if your thoughts are small; or if you load your sleeves with narrow agendas you may think are hidden but which are visible to everyone else.

You cannot do that if you dream a principality that crowds out your best national talents. You cannot do that if security is simply another campaign talking point, or if, for that matter, your calendar is dated by words to say rather than by things accomplished.

Be uncomfortable, dear Nigerian.  This is the darkest hour.