I did not want to put my mouth into the Yinka Ayefele’s iss but I had to. It is important to state that this is beyond the demolition of the building. We are talking about humanity. About empathy and sympathy. And some e-idiots who continue to run their mouths carelessly down the digital slope.
Some of them continue to talk about Yinka Ayefele contravening the law and situating the building where it is dangerous to the affairs of the people. But the same people have refused to tell us how many times they have escaped being nailed and jailed because they violated the laws of the land. These people have failed to tell us why they never consider the political weapon being deployed by the constituted authority in a case that should have been settled amicably.
It is not only about Yinka. It is about you and I. It is about our collective ignorance and lack of human understanding when life gifts us trauma and pain. If you guys can’t help him in your own little way by being reasonable enough to know that this man has been helpful to the masses through his radio station and inspiring and soul-lifting songs, then you need to have shut your lips instead of shaming your names.
We are full of flaws. Everyone. And that is why we are humans. You think Yinka would build on that land if he knew that one day that building would be demolished? You think he would be like ‘ẹ̀gà’ who builds its house and destroys it?
And some people still talk about demolished houses in some areas in Ibadan and that nothing was done to rectify the havoc.
They forget the fact that this is not only about the proletariat and the bourgeois. Our constituted authority can make things look that way but this is also about us. About Yinka Ayefele and other Yinka Ayefeles who have contributed to our society. We are masses. Being ruled by those who forget posterity. But this is Nigeria. We bury out heroes before death comes for them.
And I remember that five years ago, in Iseyin, my mother’s shop was demolished. It was during the dualization of roads. My father had to rush home from Ìbàdàn. When I returned home during holiday and I saw my mother’s sad face, I cried. Life wasn’t easy for us. Things haven’t been stable since then. I mean my mother hasn’t regained her strength. That shop was her source of income.
My mother is another Yinka Ayefele that you guys talked about. My mother is the woman who sells potatoes and tomatoes at ọjà ọba, only for her to wake up and one day to discover that her shop has been demolished. If you can’t console those who grieve, do not add to their grief through your unsympathetic comments. And all hail the e-saints who have never contravened the laws.
(RMG) writes from Iseyin, where he enjoys staring at the four hills that adorn this city of weavers.