Even though exhilarating, the increasing recourse to humour, seems at times, a means of escape from reality, writes Paul Nwabuikwu
As we move deeper into the political season and closer to the presidential, governorship and legislative polls of February next year, the pace of politicking has revved up. The media is full of breathless stories about secret engagements, hastily forged alliances, reconciliation meetings and politicians leading their “numerous supporters” out of one party and into another. One significant defection, from a familial perspective, was announced as this column was being finalized: Buhari’s nephew and member representing the president’s constituency at the House of Representatives, Fatuhu Muhammed, has, in the predictable words of Nigerian media reports, “dumped” the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) and joined the Peoples Democratic Party. In a society where family is a big deal, this is big news. But it is not unprecedented. Late politician Samuel G. Ikoku defeated his illustrious father whose face is on one of the Naira notes, Alvan Ikoku, in an election during the First Republic. It would be difficult to top that.
Sadly, our politics is still defined more by activity than by substance. There is no real debate on vital issues, despite the existential threats facing the country: a collapsing economy with high debt, high inflation and joblessness; spiraling security challenges, citizens split down the middle by religion and ethnicity. Some candidates like Peter Obi and Atiku Abubakar have come up with some policy options but these are not getting as much attention as the yabis between Obidients, Atikulators and BATists. Again and again, jokes are winning the battle over substance. Humour is king.
Nigerian humour is like Nigerian jollof rice. It has a full bodied, bold taste that envious Ghanaians cannot reproduce. It can get so spicy with pepper that your eyes water as you enjoy it. Sometimes the unlucky target of the humour will find lurking in its depths some barbed bones which can do damage if you fail to masticate with caution.
Social media is currently the richest showcase of Nigerian humour. Along with the encouraging motivational messages, verses from the Bible and Koran, guidance on how to live a long, healthy and blameless life, garish adverts on “organic“ ways to improve your sexual performance, are endless wisecracks, rib cracking observations, spoofs, pranks about all kinds of things.
Sometimes the jokes make themselves. The governor of Cross Rivers State, Prof Ben Ayade is a one-man humour factory who has turned the state’s budget – ordinarily a dry compendium of estimated income and expenditure over the next 12 months – into a circus of incomprehensible words and impossible targets. The titles of his budgets have earned him national notoriety. From the relatively harmless “Budget of Deep Vision” in 2016, he pivoted to “Budget of Infinite Transposition” in 2017, and “Budget of Kinetic Crystallization” in 2018. The title of the 2019 version – “Budget of Qabalistic Densification” – should have earned Governor a prize for lunatic nonsense and perhaps some attention from concerned psychiatrists. There is no universe in which this kind of frothing gibberish can be justified as legitimate expressions of useful governance.
Ayade is of course not the only politician-jokester. Dino Melaye, one of the recently announced spokespersons for the Atiku campaign has made a name as an APC, then PDP propagandist, connoisseur of expensive cars, champion of the suffering masses, dancer and singer in numerous videos in which he has mocked his political enemies. But Rivers Governor Nyesom is the confirmed superstar of the “As e dey pain dem, e dey sweet us” brigade. Wike is the proponent of hard knuckle, in your face politics who spices his tough guy stance with appropriate proverbs and choruses delivered in his harsh, rheumy voice. Understandably, he’s been singing less and threatening more since he lost out to Atiku Abubakar at the PDP primaries.
Outside politics, with the same passion and creativity that they have transformed the music industry into a popular hub of global popular culture, Nigerian youths are also working hard to milk fame and money out of humour. Hilarious and sometimes thought-provoking skits have become the rage. According to a recent BUSINESSDAY story which quoted a report by Dataleum, a firm which describes itself as a “global talent accelerator”, the top five Instagram skit makers are Broda Shaggi, Mr Funny, Cute Abiola, Taaooma and Brain Jotter. The report was based on analysis of skits on Instagram in the first quarter of the year.
The kind of money that skits are generating is no laughing matter. Dataleum says:
“The skit making industry has evolved into a dominant one. Comedy is ranked the third largest entertainment industry with a net worth of over N50 billion”.
Although the THISDAY report did not quote the source of the figures, there is no doubt Nigerians are enthusiastic about the skits. Broda Shaggi whose real name is Samuel Animashaun Perry has over 10m Instagram followers and he attracted 48 million views within the period. He’s 28 years old. Mr Funny (real name: Chukwuemeka Emmanuel Ejekwu), a 27-year-old comedian and actor has about 31 million views while Cute Abiola (real name: Abdulgafar Ahmad Oluwatoyin) was slightly behind during the period with 30 million views and 4.6 million followers. And so on and so forth. And these industry frontliners and others in the top bracket are living it up in expensive cars and mansions.
Of course, humour is bigger than money. Even for those of who have not earned one “shishi” from making others laugh, humour, as anyone who has ever had a good laugh would testify, is a real gift from God. Scientists say that enjoying a joke has significant psychological and physiological benefits. Not only does it make us feel good, it enhances our physical health and helps us cope better with stressful situations. And since Nigeria is right now one of the most stressful places on the planet, our increasing resort to humour is understandable. Without it, Nigeria is like hell without air vents.
Still, some question need to be asked. Have we as a society become too reliant on humour, indeed become so addicted to a dangerous degree at the expense of urgent priorities? Has it become the instinctive refuge from reality that allows us escape that reality for a moment without dealing with the issues behind the reality? Do we now use humour as an alcoholic utilizes his favourite beverage – to help him forget his sorrows for a while? Are Ayade and other elected and appointed persons escaping serious scrutiny because we are too busy laughing at their antics? I have no easy answers. But it’s something to think about as we enjoy the latest antics of Sabinus and co.
Nwabuikwu is a member of THISDAY Editorial Board
