(ARIJE NI MADARU) THE MEMALODI LUNATIC

 

(ARIJE NI MADARU) THE MEMALODI LUNATIC

A lunatic is an insane person. A person who behaves very foolishly may derisively be referred to as a lunatic.

I have seen and read so much at different times about lunatics. Ever wonder why they are called lunatics or what madness has to do with the lunar phases of the moon? We’ll find out some day.

I once saw a movie (The Lunatic) that told the story of a village madman, Aloysius, who had the amazing ability to talk to anything, including trees, cows and cricket balls. It was portrayed from a Jamaican perspective with an acute eye for the authentic dialect of the land. Aloysius meets Inga, a German nymphomaniac, who uses her 'pum pum power' to capture his heart.

The lessons from Alloysious and Inga will come another day.

Memalodi is a small quiet village near Pretoria in South Africa. The inhabitants were predominantly farmers. The most common farm produce was yam.

Yams were stored in barns to preserve till another planting season. Bujambulu was the biggest and richest yam farmer in Memalodi.

The large barn at the back of his hut contained thousands of yams arranged in beautiful rows and columns preserved for planting in another planting season.

Passers by beheld Bujambulu’s barn with a mixture of envy and admiration. Every farmer prayed that the gods would smile on them the way they had done on Bujambulu. His wealth oozed conspicuously on him and his entire family.

 Memalodi had its own version of Aloysious, Dani, who walked around the village talking to unseen people. Everybody in Memalodi knew and loved Dani. He was not violent. When he was given anything, he responded with a smile. Often times, after walking round the village, Dani would sit under a tree in front of Bujambulu’s hut and drink from an earthen pot under the tree. He would even sleep off. Nobody bothered Dani.

One day, calamity struck.

People woke up at dawn to find Bujambulu’s barn on fire. Concerted efforts were made to save the hut and the occupants. By the time attention was shifted to the barn, it was completely burnt.

All the yams Bujambulu kept for planting next season were completely burnt and roasted.

The villagers gathered in front of the hut bemoaning the fate of the rich hard working farmer. Women wailed in pity while men and youth offered words of encouragement.

Then Dani appeared from the back of the hut in the direction of the burnt barn. He was looking so fed and talking to his imaginary friends as usual. He sauntered over to the earthen pot and drank water aplenty. He could have gone unnoticed if some people hadn’t listened to what he was muttering. “This is the best way for a hut to burn.”

Dani muttered to the chagrin of bystanders. He further espoused as if explaining his statement to his unseen friends, “In Pretoria, A house was burnt and we had nothing to eat. But here in Memalodi, a hut was burnt and I ate roasted yams till I was satisfied and even had water to drink.”

Angry youth irked by the fact that Dani found happiness and satisfaction in the calamity of a hardworking and successful Bujambulu picked up sticks and chased Dani away.

I look around the nation today and found many Danis.

So many calamities befall the nation and the people, and like Dani, some people benefit and feed fat on our misfortunes.

The people who scoop fuel when fuel tankers fall are worse than Dani.

Some people get rich from the fratricidal insurgencies killing and maiming us.

The incessant fuel crises is a source of wealth for some men in authority and their cronies in the corridors.

That failed road that caused accidents that claimed innocent lives didn’t just happen. Somebody “ate” in the contract.

Sometimes ago I heard people became suddenly rich from the government amnesty programmes.

Rumours are rife that some people carted away money meant to buy arms to fight insurgency.

A well-thought-of humanitarian/palliative government became a cash cow for some people, ferreting billions mean to relieve the pains of Nigerians.

I once heard of people scavenging valuables from an accident scene while the victims still writhe in pain.

IDP camps are a source of riches to some. Do emergency relief materials ever get to the victims?

Even the ones in the low rung of the ladder are guilty.

When your vehicle breaks up in a precarious location, people around will exploit you.

Ask Lagosians how much they pay those who “help’ them when the streets are flooded.

Strife and discord in political parties are fueled by who belief it pays them when people disagree.

Families, Organisations, Governments, Town groups, Alumni Associations or any group of human beings have their own Danis.

Anytime a calamity befalls us as a people, some people, like Dani, will see an opportunity to "eat roasted yams and drink water".

But something pains me.

Will we ever have youth that will chase the Danis away?

What do you think?

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