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Twenty-five
years ago, November 24, 1985 to be precise, just exactly when this
country was 25, I wrote a column in The Guardian with the above title.
It was a lighthearted satirical piece, Nigeria was likened to a young
nubile woman and all her past and current heads of state, the different
men she had been had by.

There
was John whom she had met on the rebound from the thoroughly resistible
Chief Saz, mucho macho, born to be obeyed, a man with healthy
appetites. When the relationship started going south Young and Nubile
made her escape on a cold January night, grateful that her neck was
still in one piece.

After
that close shave came Julius. All was sweet and dandy initially until
Young and Nubile kept bumping into women at parties wearing exactly the
same set of diamonds and emeralds that she had. Then came Musa, he too
was a man who had to be obeyed but he was different, with a sense of
purpose and work to do so. Unfortunately Musa was shot to death and
that was that. After a long period of brooding Young and Nubile finally
noticed Segun who had been hovering around all the while. Segun had a
constant preoccupation with virility …

Sheik
the inefficacious lawyer with his profligate crew was followed by
Bello, tall and ramrod straight. Out went the dresses and jewelry from
her former lovers and Young and Nubile was put out to work. But she had
the shock of her life when Bello demanded that she give him her entire
salary and he would put her on an allowance.

So
Young and Nubile began a regimen of discipline and sacrifice for a
better future but Bello too turned. She was watched all the time,
treated with disrespect. Her phones bugged and she had to suffer the
indignity of answering to the gateman anytime she wanted to go out.
Eventually Bello told her they would get on much better if she only
spoke when she was spoken to. Things had gone past a joke!

Finally
came a new man on the scene and Bello and his paddy, Tayo, ended up
somewhere (though between you and me Bello is very much back on the
scene). Mr. New Guy was still on probation at the time the column was
written in ’85. (Between you and me Mr. New Guy is now Mr. Too Old Guy
and back on the scene too.)

So
here we are a quarter of a century later on the brink of another
electoral process with new faces and old ones and a scenario that is
very much one of a whole slew of Messrs Big Stuff thinking they can
play hard to get. In today’s world though that trick is old hat so very
last century it is laughable.

Here is what works nowadays: if you are carrying I am primed and able.
If you are not, out of my way. The days when the late Waziri Ibrahim
thought he had something with his party slogan of Politics without
bitterness are long gone. It was a sweet message but thoroughly with
out substance. But you do not even get that nowadays. Obafemi Awolowo
and his UPN are long gone and buried and with them the concept of a
party political machinery that had a cerebral arm and devoted time to
putting down thoughts on paper that amounted to programmes and policies
and a reason for being.

You
chop I chop, the party that solved the problem of choosing a campaign
slogan and refining a winning name with one stroke at least provided
some levity in the always scary prospect of Nigerian political
contesting. It was realpolitik Naija style, just telling it like it
really is.

Young
and Nubile is still young in mind though the nubility has long gone the
way of gravity having become a victim of serious spread body. At 50 she
is still naïve and young in mind, not an attractive prospect. Two of
her suitors were playing hard to get for no justifiable reason.
President Goodluck Jonathan was being unbelievably coy about whether he
was going to run and no one was deceived. It is a ploy that any women
will consider a complete waste of her time. If you don’t know how to
woo me, stop blocking the road.

As
for Mr. Babangida, he is ironically like those women of a certain age,
that is certainly too old, squeezing themselves into outfits they
should have passed on to their daughters. They have no idea that they
are past it, their time has gone and they should settle into dignified
old age and be very, very, happy that they can do so.

In the end this crazy dance will all come down to ‘settlement’ of the you chop I chop kind: Such a tired old game.

Say you were 50 and a foolishly youthful 50 at that, much married but never satisfied, how would you like to be wooed?