I’ve a very short temper. Well, I’ve never measured it with a ruler but I’ve proof from the doctors. Very little things make me mad and I go breaking a few ant heads. Experts say my aggressiveness is in my fingers. And, by God, I intend to make a good use of them. Perhaps, if I fold them into a fist I might just be a Tyson. Abi? 

Canadian researchers say my natural urge to slap somebody is because I have short fingers. They fiddled with tubes and glasses and some acid that jealous Nigerian women could make better use of. Then, the scientists at the University of Alberta announced that, if my index fingers were longer than my ring fingers, I would have been “more boisterous.” That almost got me scared. For, I probably would have cut my hair with my bare fingers. Or even licked my elbow.

Now, I’ve decided to do a few things to keep that “aggressiveness” in check. Like slapping Professor Fabian Osuji’s face on my TV. How could he ignore me to give “welfare package” to El-Rufai’s “fools,” then filled my screen later looking like a maid caught with hand in a soup pot? Cleaning is out of it. The last time I tried washing clothes, even the white ones stained my hands. And when I tried sweeping, the broom developed a mind of its own. I was told later that my fingers were too short they couldn’t direct my brain. 

Anyway, I might also consider clearing bush like Diepreye Alameyeseigha a.k.a DSP, the Bayelsa Governor. It’s a fine way of boosting the pocket. And helping the blood pressure. Especially, if yours rises so often like the fuel prices. Or shots up unannounced, breaking the metre needle, like Osuji’s. Osuji has proved beyond reasonable bribe, sorry, doubt that he’s a naïve politician. Imagine! He even defended his action with semantics: It was not a bribe, it was for PR. No, it was for welfare. Okay, I remember now, it was for lobby. At that moment, my index finger shot out, almost outgrowing the ring finger. Danger! A quick fix? Cut the tiny thing to half, else you get so angry and bash Wabara’s face, instead of Obasanjo’s photograph.

A little fast lesson for UME and WASCE candidates. Welfare is story about a fellow called “Comfort” and a “table.” Collapse them and what do you get? Comfortable! All the lawmakers already have “tables.” They also have wives, girlfriends and relations named Comfort. And Grace. It’s only the poor, always in need of “Favour” and “Mercy,” who name their kids thus. And, forced to live “by Faith,” they never have “table.” Not even one with Formica squeezed like Osuji’s face-of-regret. You see, that man’s action reminds me of a Bible verse. Matthew 25: 29 – “For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”

 Osuji was our inglorious Education minister, who thought “dashing” our money to rich men was part of his brief. Welfare package, indeed! When did he become the Clerk of the National Assembly? He’s not even a Public Relations expert, so how could he do “PR”? And didn’t anybody tell him that the National Assembly already had a “lobby”?  So that lame excuse that he used the money for lobbying leaks like Senator Chris Adighije’s mouth. Lobby is practised in the United States, not here. It’s legal there to influence lawmakers’ decision with MTN recharge cards but it’s not in our constitution. It doesn’t matter that the document resembles General Ibrahim Babangida – pretentious, confusing and enigmatic. 

If there’s anybody who needed a “welfare package,” it’s me. Even if it’s not a “package,” only the “welfare” would do, thank you. Look, it’s so annoying to a naked man, for instance, when Obasanjo goes round Nigeria collecting free clothes. Imagine how many he has now. Each time he visits a state, Governors use road contract money to sew him attire. So he keeps going back, to get more. In my state, he even collected the wrapper I planned to use for Ekpe festival. I’m told he eventually “dashed” it to a guy who helps “expand” Otta Farms borders.

Well, I’ve no problem with that. In fact, I believe in reward for hard work. But not hard work as reward. If, for instance, I got a contract to clear a bush, and all got was a plate of “afang” soup, I’d consider that a reward. But, if Alamieyeseigha gave me a N145 million contract to clear a bush that would be a “welfare package.” And I would be so grateful to him that I would clear all the bushes in the land – including the one in America’s White House. Trust me, I’m very hard working. Ask my car. And my wife. I “push” both everyday. One to take me somewhere; the other to follow me somewhere. 

Hard work pays, I agree. And if you work hard enough, you get an alias attached to your name. Ask Tafa, who has just rejected an a.k.a.  He told the court that Tafa Adebayo Balogun was not related to Mustapha Adebayo. One of them is bound to dump the 70-count charge on Ribadu’s head and walk home to enjoy the missing Police money. 

If you work hard, sometimes, you can never get caught giving or collecting bribe. You may even get housing allocation in your name, even if you don’t bid. The authorities may give you national honours – for hiding Okija shrine register. Or for stealing the N300billion meant for fixing roads. Then, you may get a tag like: Mr. Magician; Mr. Fix it; Mr. Performer; The Action man and Baba! But if you fall out of grace, you are: Mr. Ole; Mr. Handcuffs; Mr. Liar; Mr. Corruption and Mr. Grass Cutter. Well, it doesn’t matter if you are Rotimi Akomolafe, the Lagos lawyer ordered by a magistrate to cut grass because his mobile phone rang in court. I wish Mrs. Y. O. Aje-Afunwa, the magistrate, was from Bayelsa. Perhaps, she would have used offending lawyers to clear the water from the Niger Delta creeks. Or tend Akanbi’s goatee, so he can see clearly, instead of wasting five years on corruption allegation against DSP.

But, I confess. When it comes to “cleaning” things, the lawyers are out. Only two sets of people stand out: the rich politicians and the maids. While the former are busy cleaning the public coffers, the latter help clean the house. You just wake one morning and all your jewelry, gold and even husbands are gone. You would be lucky is your baby had not been taken along.

In recent days, stories of fraudulent and outright thieving maids have filled the air. A woman returned from work into an exceptionally “clean” house. The only “speck of dirt” was a CD rack. All the furniture, bags of gold and even wedding photographs were gone – like someone was moving house. A clear case that maids clean the house more than the rich. Not even a combination of IBB and Abacha’s vacuum cleaners could empty Nigeria thus. At least, enough was left for the Wabaras, the Tafa a.k.a Mustapha Adebayos, the Moboloji Osomos. 

Now, agreement among the fingers probably determines how successful a thief gets in the enterprise. Still, no matter how they cooperate, one must stick out. Read a book written by Adighije. It’s called, The Senate President and the Other Thieves. Note: If you can’t find a copy, try NTA’s library. It’s even in a home video, I’m told. Very interesting! Only that, like every Nigerian movie, you can tell the end from the beginning, especially with Senator Olorunmbe Momora always playing “Jesus.” That guy can’t even deliver a line, not to mention a judgment. Every time he plays “the judge,” he gets stuck with a phrase – “go and sin no more.” Has the length of his finger anything to do with it? Don’t ask me, okay?

• First published in Saturday Sun of  April 16, 2005