Many years ago, in the thick forest of Arigbabuwo, there lived a fearsome beast called Iwaninnkan (good character is key). He was strong in more ways than one. He knew it and took full advantage of it. He had no qualms about flexing his muscles. He protected when he had to and lunged for the jugular if the desire to puncture for blood gripped him.
The beast, Iwaninnkan, was feared by both friends and foes because his anger knew no boundaries. His anger was even gentler compared to his unforgiving spirit and quest for revenge. But he tried his best not to cross swords with anyone. He built paths through the forest for other animals who were not as strong as he was but then stood on them (like today’s toll gates), daring anyone to walk without thanking him. His memory was long, his temper longer, and his favorite proverb was:
“Eni ta’se loore ti ko dupe bi olosa ko ni l’eru lo ni.” If I do you a favour and you failed to say thank you, you are not better than a robber who has come to steal my properties. Thank me today and forever, was his motto. A favour is not complete until it is remembered forever.
His fellow animals knew it and lived by the rule. Ungrateful animals met untimely ends a few times.
Then the ruler of Arigbabuwo forest joined his ancestors and the oracle said the next king must be small and gentle. The kingdom fell into confusion, the elders searched for a ruler who would be small and still command respect and a wise one too. They eventually settled for Iwaloye, the slow-moving, soft-spoken, and harmless-looking river tortoise.
The elders doubted him.
“Who knew this one?”
“What has he done before now for us?”
“He can hardly cover 10 yards in a whole day. What kind of ruler will he be?”
Iwaninnkan stepped in.
“I will carry him,” he said, already lifting Iwaloye.
“I will polish his shell,” and while the rest of the community were still wrapping their heads round Iwaninnkan’s out-of-the-blue offer, he had started polishing the tortoise’s shell.
And then came the golden rule of the strong beast.
Minister Wike is currently cooking a sacrifice that even the vulture will find gargantuan. And Governor Fubara is like Oja who heard noise behind his house and angrily asked the combatants to shut up.
“But let him remember that a throne that is floating on borrowed water must never forget its source.”
That was how Iwaloye became ruler—carried on Iwaninnkan’s back. His arrival announced by Iwaninnkan’s roar, his palace guarded by the lion’s shadow. The people clapped. Iwaninnkan clapped loudest.
At first, Iwaloye bowed often. He thanked the Lion in public and in private. But gratitude, like borrowed sandals, wears out quickly.
Soon, Iwaloye began to enjoy the sound of his own name. He learned that praise tastes better when it is not shared. He surrounded himself with troublemaker birds who chirped:
“You rule by wisdom, not claws.”
“The Lion is loud, but the river is patient.”
“What is thunder without rain?”
So Iwaloye stopped bowing.
Then he stopped thanking.
Then he started pretending he had always walked alone.
When the Lion sent messages, the Water Tortoise replied slowly. When the Lion sent warnings, the tortoise smiled calmly. When the Lion demanded loyalty, the king he’s carrying on his back quoted wisdom of old.
The Lion, unused to being ignored, began to roar.
He roared at the elders.
He roared at the forest.
He roared at the river itself.
“If I made him,” Iwaninnkan thundered, “I can unmake him!”
And so the Lion struck—not at enemies, but at the very ground he had built. He shook the bridges. He frightened the traders. He chased away the peace just to prove he still could.
The people groaned.
“Is this leadership,” they asked, “or terrorism?”
Meanwhile, the river tortoise safe in his shell, mistook silence for victory. He decided to rule from hiding. He spoke of calm while chaos spread. He believed patience alone could defeat the gathering storm outside his shell.
He was wrong.
The kingdom cracked under the weight of two egos pulling in opposite directions. Trade stopped. Crops drowned. The elders fled. The people cursed both the claw and the shell.
In the end, the river overflowed—not in favour of either Iwaloye or Iwaninnkan.
Both animals lost the kingdom they wanted to control. Iwaninnkan’s roar became noise, his power became suspicious, his name a warning rather than a shield.
Iwaloye lost the throne he never truly defended. When the waters settled, no one came to look for him. A ruler who hides too long is eventually forgotten.
The elders carved this final lesson into Arere Tree.
“The Lion lost because he could not let go.
The Tortoise lost because he never stood firm.
One mistook power for ownership.
The other mistook opportunity for destiny.
And the people paid for both.”
And so, in Arigbabuwo Kingdom, children are taught:
Beware the giver who demands worship,
and beware the receiver who forgets the giver.
For when thunder and silence fight,
the kingdom always loses.
Rivers State on my mind, hmmmm.
Everything may sound a little quiet now but nothing is concluded. The scribe of the APC, Dr Ajibola Bashiru, has thundered, as he should. Minister Wike has replied ‘as he dey hot’ like we say in Lagos. The Villa has responded and now the surface of the water is calm. But trust me, that throne in Rivers State is still floating for a reason or two. One of them is because the big guns are being kept out of sight. Meetings have been held to keep the closets closed. No skeleton, no gun should be allowed to stray into public view. Not when we know the ADC, Obidients, PDP, Labour Parties or what remains of them have bought front row tickets for this show. Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu will not open the cinema, should not feast the predilections of those who like shows of shame.
Still, I insist this floating throne in Port Harcourt and its drama are not over. Neither Iwaninnkan nor Iwaloye is soft meat. Minister Wike is currently cooking a sacrifice that even the vulture will find gargantuan. And Governor Fubara is like Oja who heard noise behind his house and angrily asked the combatants to shut up. Meanwhile, the combatants had been sent to bring him, hands and legs bound, his head hooded, everything ordered for delivery to the big bird to deliver to the gods.
We, their mothers will not fold our arms and watch them remove their masks at the market square. That is why I am going to the Mountains to pray for both the river tortoise and the Lion holding the throne steady. Both Wike and Fubara must send enough red, blue, black and white candles for this spiritual journey.
The APC secretariat is in dire straits too. It must not make the PDP stalwarts who just arrived the party feel like they are Ingredients of sacrifice (nnkan etutu) that will be roasted and served as ‘asun’ to pacify older members of APC. The delicate balance must be maintained.
Let the candles be sent post-haste so prayers can start in earnest.
*Egbemode ([email protected])
READ ALSO:
Who’s afraid of Madam Governor?
Why some fintech founders end up in jail, and others go insane
Owo church attack victim identifies two suspected terrorists in court
US AFRICOM delegation meets Marwa, assures NDLEA of enhanced collaboration, support
Alleged defamation: News Express publisher demands N1bn from Haleems founder
Gold, lithium plants position Nigeria as Africa’s minerals supply hub –Alake
EFCC hands over recovered N802.4m to First Bank
Boiling Point: A new Nigeria is possible, but… -Mathew Kukah
NAFDAC alerts public to recall of Mivacron, Nimbex injections
Calabar: Army rescues 18 abducted Cameroon-bound passengers
