Tunde Odesola
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An elephant bigger than its cage –
That’s Tinubu Square:
Stretching the girth of Broad Street,
Bequeathing a crossroads and traffic bottleneck,
Tinubu Square bulges where Broad Street narrows,
Like the python and its belly after an antelope meal
I know Tinubu Square.
A youngster, I combed the Island,
A wandering youth, on foot,
Trekking was a hobby,
Guguru, boli and epa for snack,
Vibing the rhyme of the ancient Marina.
Tinubu Square has a history
The Good, the bad and the ugly
I’ll tell the three
In truthful proportions
Tinubu Square, crossroads where four footpaths kiss
The good
A decade after high school,
Tinubu Square brought Taiwo Sontan my way,
Isaac! Taiwo! We hugged like hand in glove,
but ne’er saw thereafter,
Taiwo – light-skinned, bow-legged rascal,
Tinubu Square brought him back to me.
The bad
Orile! Orile! Orile o! conductor screams
My friend from Orile Agege, name withheld, enthuses:
‘Wow, strange luck. Don’t need to trek to Idumota for a bus.’
Hops in. Driver zooms.
Finally, bus stops. Passengers disgorge,
My friend disembarks reluctantly, looking lost;
Welcome to Orile Iganmu,
not Orile Agege.
Lagos has many Oriles, one confusion.
But Tinubu Square wasn’t done.
Another day, same friend, same fate.
A hawker flashes a gold wristwatch,
Mouths his price,
My friend feigns disinterest,
But the urchin knows his victims,
He followed on foot,
“Na Raymond Weil! 24 karat gold, N2,000!
My friend walks on, battling internal turbulence
Thinking, “Raymon Wahala for N2,000?”
“Watch wey dem dey sell for N5,000?”
I go pay N1,000, he offers,
The hawker flew into a rage;
Ol’ boy, dis na 1987, no bi 1960 o.
Why you dey do like dis?
You no sabi how much Raymon Wahala cost?
You no bi small boy nah,
Di watch na from sailor on high sea,
If I sell am give you,
Nobody must see am on you for dis island o,
Otherwise, dem go buy am by force from you.
Money exchanged hands
“Tuck am inside your pocket!”
“Yes, nobody go see am. Thank you!”
Hand inside trousers’ pocket;
My friend firmly holds his gold watch
He gets to Orile Agege, hand-in-pocket still,
Alights bus on springy feet,
Dashing home without looking back,
Dashes into his room, slams the door gbam!
Breaths down hard, back to the door,
At last, eyes about to behold the timeless timepiece,
Raymon Wahala about to be unveiled.
All heads must bow!
A smile parts his lips,
Gingerly, very gingerly,
He touches the Raymond Weil,
Inside the well of his pocket
The smile expands
The package feels good to touch
Dem go collect for Great Ife!
Wrapped in papers of many colours,
Like an onion with countless layers,
My friend unwraps his Raymon Wahala;
Layer by layer: white, brown, yellow papers,
Before he hit a stone instead of gold!
A dirty stone in colourful papers!
Sweat oozed;
Ha! Where’s Tunde?
He came to me, sorrow in his heart,
I laughed, I consoled,
But I never forgot Tinubu Square,
Where my friend bought a golden stone.
The Ugly
I know Tinubu Square,
Squished under military jackboots,
Decadent, desolate and dirty,
Destitute home of the 1980s and 1990s
Before Lagosians said,
“Let there be Guv’nor!”
And there was Tinubu.
A roadmap tucked in his armpit,
A lamp in his hand,
Tinubu led by the scruff,
Installing Fashola, deinstalling Ambode, anointing Sanwo-Olu,
Weeding, planting, uprooting and cutting,
Lagos must be milked, for Lagosians,
Lagos must stand –
On Bola Ahmed Tinubu mandate.
Transformed by APC governments, especially Ambode
Tinubu Square has changed in colour,
but still lies doggo like a python,
Belly protruding,
At Broad Street and Nnamdi Azikiwe junction,
Slowing down movement; paralysis over ability.
Here’s Tinubu Square metamorphosis:
Renowned as Ita Tinubu,
Before the dawn of Independence,
‘twas the court of Efúnpòróyè Òsuntinúbú,
Powerful and wealthy 19th-century Amazon,
Rich in slaves and substance.
Christened Independence Square at Independence,
Fluffing the green-white-green flag,
Efúnpòróyè got her flowers, though
Posthumously,
After colonial departure,
When post-independence leaders,
Glazed her memory in eternity,
Naming her residence, Tinubu Square.
Mama Efúnpòróyè Òsuntinúbú (1805–1887):
Aristocrat, merchant, politician,
Married to Adele Ajosun,
Two-time Oba of Lagos,
Son of Ologun Kutere.
Iya Òsuntinúbú was exiled to Abeokuta,
On the order of Oba Dosumu
over alleged slave trade dealings,
After a stop-order by colonialists.
Òsuntinúbú cried foul, pleading innocence,
But the new sheriff stood firm.
History recalls Òsuntinúbú was born in Abeokuta,
In the days when Osun was not Osogbo-specific,
When all Yoruba knew water bodies as Òsun,
Òsuntinúbú’s surname, therefore
doesn’t pin her birth to modern-day Osun,
But Òsun is a river goddess meandering thro
hamlets, villages and cities,
Gathering and adopting children, far and near;
Òsun Osogbo, pele,
Pele o, Olomo Yoyo.
Water will always find its level,
Water no get enemy,
Òsun has met Òsun,
Ponds, streams, brooks and lakes, beware,
Or risk drying up.
The conqueror,
The champion,
The lion is here!
Comot for road!
Yago lona!
Puo na uzo!
Gafara Anya!
Marching to Tinubu Square again,
The shon of the shoil is here.
By the way, what does Tinubu mean?
It means, “Out of the deep,”
Bola Ahmed Tinubu came out of the deep,
From nowhere, to somewhere,
Taking everyone and everywhere unawares,
Bola Tinubu, the son of Abibatu Mogaji,
Omo Olanbiwonninu, Ekun oko Oluremi,
Baba Folashade, Baba Seyi,
The more dem look, the less dem see.
Tinubu Square is filled beyond capacity
Everyone is happy to see their son back home
In the courtyard of his maternal forebear
Bola Tinubu, their son, who conquered Lagos
And went up North, to take Abuja
Making him the father of Nigeria
A good father is kind
A good father is merciful
A good father is fair
A good father is firm
A good father is just
Just like Bola Tinubu
It’s another national independence anniversary.
Father Tinubu, Owner of the Merciful Eyes, Eleyinju Aanu
Draws a list of 175 convicts, dead and alive,
Deserving of his mercy.
Father Tinubu has a good conscience –
and a profound sense of judgment,
Reason why Nigeria is leaping like a frog,
Fleeing a merciful snake.
Baba Tinubu always listens to his conscience,
It has never failed him.
Conscience is an open wound,
Healed only by truth.
So, Tinubu’s conscience gave him a knife, saying
You’ll do some cutting here, boy:
Cut and give the largest pardon to drug convicts,
Give the second-largest pardon to mining convicts,
Cut the third-largest pardon for homicide convicts,
Give the fourth-largest pardon to fraud and corruption convicts.
So, Tinubu heeded his good conscience;
Of the 175 convicts, therefore,
Drug convicts sniffed 29.2% of Tinubu’s pardon,
Unlawful miners mined 24% of Tinubu’s pardon,
Murderers mowed down 13.5% of Tinubu’s pardon,
Fraudsters received 12.3% of Tinubu’s pardon,
Leaving a nation reeling and wondering,
What happened to Solomonic wisdom?
Punch
