Men Can Be Funny
By Mogaji Wole Arisekola
Ever since President Bola Ahmed Tinubu withdrew police protection from law-abiding citizens, the atmosphere of the country has changed dramatically. Overnight, every neighbourhood joint turned into a mini-stadium filled with big men who no longer have the courage to travel far to visit their friends. Men who once drove across states without fear now sit in one place. Interstate travel among the wealthy has dropped sharply; the mighty have suddenly become cautious.
In Nigeria today, there are only two real forces holding weapons: the lawful and the unlawful. And among the lawful, the police are supposed to be the shield of the citizens. I remember my days in Part One at Obafemi Awolowo University, sitting in PHL 101 lecture room,under the brilliant Professor Fashina Jingo. He taught us that the state is like a parent, responsible for the protection of its children. And the moment a state fails to protect its citizens, that state must be seen as a failed state.
Right now, the signs of failure are everywhere. Nigerians are experiencing a kind of financial and security suffocation. Stepping out of your house requires fasting, prayer, or a strong connection to your ancestral roots. Just look around: in the past two weeks, original Ayeta (Bullet Protector) from Baba Ajidewon Sigidi has jumped from ₦7,000 to ₦120,000. Our so-called “gods of men” have raised their consultation fees from ₦50,000 to ₦150,000. Even the price of anointing oil has become unbearable. Meanwhile, the wealthy are quietly putting their “Plan B” in motion.
But nobody can chase us out of this country. Nigeria belongs to all of us. And everyone knows that countless weapons are already in the hands of criminals. If you believe that every man in a police uniform carrying a gun is a genuine police officer, then you are making a grave mistake. Many criminals now disguise themselves in police and military uniforms. My candid advice to you is simple: reduce your night movement before night movement reduces you.
Last night, I went to the joint beside my house. We were watching the Premier League when one of us brought up a sensitive but common topic: how successful men abandon their first wives and marry an Igbalode — the wife who fits their current status. Most of us there are Ibadan men who have known each other for ages, so the conversation flowed easily. We had discussed everything earlier, and then the matter of abandoned first wives resurfaced. Many points were raised, and honestly, most people blamed the first wives. But they forget the simple truth: as you lay your bed, so shall you lie on it.
Your first wife is your sister, your friend, the one who knows your entire journey. There comes a point where she does not even see herself as “wife” because she knows your past down to its deepest corners. And if you believe you have buried your past, be careful — your first wife and her family are still holding the shovel.
For the first wives at home, your man tells you he is not planning to have more kids or marry again because he is still “sorting out his life.” He says he wants a second degree, a better house, a bigger car. You sit there smiling, holding only a birth certificate, believing you are lucky.
And with the little he has, you ask for Brazilian hair and designer shoes. He leaves you in pyjamas in the morning and returns late at night to find you in the same pyjamas. While he studies, you spend the day watching Africa Magic and Keeping Up With the Kardashians. When he comes home, he finds pap and chicken waiting in the microwave. The only serious conversations you have revolve around groceries. Your biggest advice to him is: “Babe, you need new socks; the ones you bought last time are torn.”
Nothing intellectual. Nothing inspiring. Nothing to improve your own life.
Yes, you are beautiful — but beauty is everywhere. Every second girl passing on the street is beautiful. Do you not realise that you are not doing anything a maid cannot do? When he finally finishes his studies and becomes successful, the first thing he will do is replace the maid. At that point, he will be able to afford a maid and a wife with brains.
And that is when we will hear your famous last words: “I was with him through thick and thin when he had nothing. Now that he is successful, he thinks I am nothing.”
Painfully, the truth is this: yes, in his eyes, you were nothing but a maid.
My dear, empower yourself. Become the kind of woman a successful man truly wants beside him — a woman who can hold her home together if anything happens to his job or health. Remember that the company you keep will shape your life. Choose wisely.
Mogaji Wole Arisekola, Publisher of The Street Journal, writes from Ibadan.
