Tunde Asaju
Lucky Aiyedatiwa was already acting governor yesterday when his principal died. He had fought tooth and nail for the position. Even before the body of his principal got cold, he got himself substantiated – sworn in as de facto Governor.
I’ve been pondering what would have changed if he waited for a day to mourn or even stayed the three-days declared. Mourning changes nothing, it allows us a moment for sober reflection. Even animals understand grief and we humans are supposed to be the highest on the intelligent train.
He was already a ‘lucky’ man with the way death resolved his ambitious streak, so why the rush?
I know life is vanity, but there’s a reason spouses do not rush into the marriage registry with their sidekicks while their significant half is still unburied. They eventually do and we only exchange whispers and let things be.
I can’t stop pondering the whole need for the rush. The futility of life, the quest for power and authority when in the end, even the ones we profess to love wants our decomposing corpse hidden away to prevent the smell and possible disease.
If I could ask ‘Lucky’ a question it’ll be – Sir why? Where is your ọmọlúwàbí? You get to where you were destined to be in the end.
I’ll be afraid of these kinds of people who rush to inherit dead men’s mandates without a thought as to how they too will end. The Yoruba have a saying – tí a bá ń jà, bíi ká kú kọ́.
I don’t judge him, I just can’t get it out of my silly mind. We all die in the end. We just don’t know when. Why the rush?
*Tunde Asaju , journalist and public affairs analyst, writes from Ottawa, Canada,