Fear of Cloning!

Fear of cloning? Yeah, let’s pause for a moment. What if we cloned the current batch of politicians? Would Nigeria even survive? 

A British tabloid gave me quite the scare last week with a “chilling” report. The Sun of London claimed that an American named Panayiotis Zavos has taken it upon himself to clone humans. Yes, you heard that right! This fertility doctor hopped over to the Middle East for his experiments and has already created an advanced human embryo using cells from a 46-year-old woman.

Now, let’s not get too hung up on Zavos’s motives—he insists he “desires to help” people. “If people want to have children and cannot in the normal way, and I can do something about it, I will do so,” he reportedly said. Forget, for a moment, the numerous failed attempts that come with cloning. After all, it took 227 tries before Dolly the sheep made her grand debut in 1996, only to kick the bucket from lung cancer and severe arthritis at the ripe age of six.

Potential fallout of cloning in Nigeria

The real problem here isn’t Zavos’s intentions; instead, it’s the potential fallout for us in Nigeria. Sure, cloning could assist infertile couples, but it also threatens the livelihoods of countless herbalists who’ve mastered the art of deception. What happens when their clients start popping out Zavos-cloned babies? Years of selling questionable concoctions would come to a crashing halt. Additionally, let’s not forget the “docs” relying on those desperate souls. How would they seduce “free women” or maintain their charm if clients no longer need them?

Then, we have the other types of “doctors”—the ones running miracle kiosks with names longer than their services. “Come To Me All Ye In Need Of Children Miracle Centre International Gospel Church Incorporated” comes to mind. They lure people in desperate for babies, masquerading as divine messengers. These pastors promise miracles; however, all the women get are renewed hopes and zero results. Most end up hopping from one church to another, chasing after those elusive tots.

Now, picture Zavos stepping in to solve their problems. But wait! Consider what that means for the cash-cow businesses known as churches. The turnover for many miracle centers would plummet, consequently putting pastors and their families in financial ruin! What about the TV stations? They’d see revenue drop faster than you can say “Holy Spirit.” Who would buy 90% of their air time if the churches shut down? Ultimately, it spells disaster for Nigerians. Unemployment would scream louder than Stella Obasanjo’s wig in a windstorm, and crime would rise like a dictator’s fury during an NLC protest. Honestly, Zavos’s success doesn’t seem to serve the interests of Nigerians at all. Forget the pros of cloning!

The Cost of Cloning: Who Benefits?

Zavos claims he’d “sell” his products for £100,000 each. If you do the math against the plummeting naira, it’s clear that ordinary Nigerians won’t benefit from his cloning escapades. That’s precisely why people flood miracle centers, hoping for free babies as God intended. Zavos would simply replace the herbalists and churches, finding new ways to milk the same cow. The only difference? Maybe only our politicians could afford these “manufactured goods.”

But let’s pause for a moment. What if we cloned the current batch of politicians? Would Nigeria even survive? More bribery scandals in the National Assembly? More Ngiges signing shady deals with Ubas? It sounds like a recipe for disaster! A President appoints a Minister, then sends him to lobby senators for approval? Nasir el-Rufai, Minister of Abuja, once mentioned that Olusegun Obasanjo and Atiku Abubakar told him to “see” Senators Mantu and Zwingina for clearance. Does that seem like a genuine effort to fight corruption?

The fear of cloning our leaders

Imagine a Nigeria teeming with clones of Obasanjo! His replicated faces on our TV screens would blow the tubes. Each clone would likely want a second term as President. If we can’t handle one, how could we possibly manage multiple Obasanjos? Could we endure weekly fuel price hikes from all of them? Implicitly, a cloned Obasanjo would mean our roads would remain forever bumpy, and we’d continue to suffer through power outages. Ultimately, it would multiply our woes—essentially a cloning of our sufferings.

On the flip side, Obasanjo would live indefinitely. Abacha wouldn’t have died, either, since spare parts could replace troubled organs. Just imagine—Obasanjo could swap out his gullet, thereby saving our eardrums from his infamous throat-clearing on national TV.

Now, who would these cloned babies identify as their father? Would it be scientist Zavos or the original donors? Nigerians take pride in their roots. So, if the cloned babies can’t trace their lineage, would they face social ostracism? I’ve often wondered the same about children born via surrogacy. Who’s the real mother—the egg donor or the one who carried the baby to term? What kind of psychological impacts might cloned babies experience? Will their life expectancy rise or fall?

Now, here’s a frightening thought: could wealthy nations start cloning armies to overpower poorer countries? Would cloning not turn into another weapon of mass destruction? Cloning may have its positive motives and contribute to scientific advancement, but the fear of cloning lingers in my mind. I have my fears, and only time and experience can prove whether those fears are valid.

A final thoughts on the fear of cloning

In conclusion, while the fear of cloning raises important ethical questions, it also invites humor and speculation about our future. The potential consequences could ripple through society in ways we can’t yet imagine. Therefore, whether you’re a proponent or a skeptic, keep an eye on the developments in cloning—because who knows what’s next?

*First published in Saturday Sun of  Oct 25, 2003