Welcome To the Dogs’ Party

My neighbour’s dog is a funny creature. Each day, it runs after my car as I drive out. Then, when it’s tired, sits in the middle of the road, defecates there, smiles and waves me goodbye.

This morning, it woke with a flag on its tail – waving it like it was Empire Day. I guess that flag was supposed to be Nigerian. But this one had blood on the white. The dog must either be colour blind. Or so foolish it mistook PDP flag for Nigeria’s. On Nigeria’s Independence Day? It was only later I found out that the dog must have been out for mischief. It’s a member of PDP. Surprised? Wait!

I’ve never bothered to look between its legs but I named it “Man.” Confession: Father, forget me for I have not sinned. I  only borrowed an inspiration from a farmer’s book. And what the hell is wrong with that? This animal must be called man. Because, this man  behaves like dog. Chikena! (You may point at somebody, if it makes you feel good – but make sure he’s not a weightlifter, boxer or wrestler. Or a madman with a club; a farmer with a machete or, well, a soldier – serving or retired – with a gun.)

That dog likes fish too much. Somebody said it’s “selfish.” But I  think the ugly creature is just smart – especially when it tries to catch the life fish in the aquarium, through the transparent glass. Oh! One thing. In case you are curious to meet this dog already, be ready for more surprises. It loves power. And good life. “Man” has “banned” all the chickens and cats in the neighbourhood from our compound. In just six months! It’s not even friendly with fellow dogs. Sometimes,  when I’m so hungry and insist on eating the bone of whatever animal that strayed into my soup, Man would just eye me with disgust. Then, it, (or is it he?) would growl: O-o-bha! O-o- bha! One day, the way it formed its mouth, I even thought it was going to add “sanjo”! I don’ also know its religion, but it always starts prayer with: “Ali!” and ends with “Anen -ih!”

Naturally, I hate dogs – whether hot or cold. It’s worse if it’s lying butchered in a pot somewhere in my village. But I thought of buying a life one recently, to counter “Man.” It was actually my landlord’s idea. The very day I went to pay the first rent on his house, he introduced a dog topic. After emptying my pocket, of course. Like a Pentecostal pastor, he steered the conversation from money – after collection – to security. “Do you lie dogs? I think you should get one. There’s a pen in the compound already, left by the former tenant. You just must have a dog.” I said, “Sorry sir, I don’t like dogs.” But the man insisted: “I don’t mean for you to eat it. Just keep it for protection. Dog is man’s best friend. And meat, sometimes. Even in Aso Rock, there are  big dogs.”

Well, the man, beyond being a landlord, was a politician. So, if he said there was a manger called Aso Rock, where dogs used as playground, I believed him. Still, I had no plan of turning my rented apartment to Aso Rock. Why? Because I prefer cats. And you know the love between the two. But as it turned out, I didn’t get a cat, after all. Because my neighbour already had a dog. So, I’m considering my landlord’s advice. Problem is, I haven’t thought  of a name for the new dog. There are options, though. I could rename “Man.” Since it likes the word “O-o-bha,” I could call it something like that. The owners don’t have to know. After all, I feed the animal more than they, don’t I? Enhen! The new dog could be “Sanjo.” Or for justice’s sake, name one “Atiku”; the other “Obasanjo” – in the hope that they would try to live in peace like  human beings. 

Okay, before somebody calls me an idiot, naming things after our rulers is a nice way of immortalising them. We need to “immortalise” the presidential feud, for instance. Immortalisation is practised all over the world, see? Even Clinton is now a condom, abi? I guess the manufacturers of the rubber are just trying to “immortalise” it into Clinton’s brain that next time he needs a Lewinsky under his desk, he should use condom. 

Anyway, “Man” isn’t such a bad animal – especially when it’s not caught with dirt. Like foreign accounts, millions of pounds at foreign homes, unemployed sons buying houses abroad with millions of dollars, etc. In fact, it’s almost human. But without  a “face” or an “e” attached. That’s why “Man” farts on national TV. And yawns with mouth wide open at a Pope’s funeral – for lack of owambe.  

One thing is for sure. Man is so creative that it washes Bible and Quran to drink for headache. And a sickness called “disloyalty.” Give it up to “Man.” The guy is something –  anything you can think of, except a beauty queen! Sometimes, when I’m so confused about Nigeria and our leaders, “Man” consoles me. With a whine, it brings me back to my environment – using its paw to massage my neck. Ha! The same dirty paw it used the other day to thump print at PDP registration.

You see, I never knew when PDP actually started registration, recently, until that dog returned one day with a tag. I thought it stole a driver’s license or got some phony document from Oluwale – in  Lagos. But, hey, the dog walked up, shook my leg with a paw stained with ink. Then, to my shock, read out details on a paper that turned out to be a genuine PDP registration card. 

Name: Man (surname); Animal (first name)

Occupations: Farming, professional politics, critics and opponents exterminator.

Best food: Lies; abuse garnished in foul language

Favourite sports: Money squandering, lip reading, power-jacking

Method: Brute force.

Age: Fat, old, piggy adult

Sex: Ten times, daily.

Spouse: One for the camera, and many others.

Mental health: Unstable; Nature: senile de mentia

Best quote: “Only saints and virgins qualify for PDP registration – except me.”

The PDP registration is already a “dog-fight.” Because PDP has become a party for the dogs. At one of its secretariats, a banner hanging loosely reads: “Welcome to the Dogs’ Party.” Was a vet doc playing pranks? Too much of a coincidence, joor! Perhaps, it’s a sign of what we should expect in 2007. Says a lot about those animals called “men of power,” too. They can’t organise a successful census. Can’t do a rancour-free election. Can’t even write their names in a “family” register without spilling oil and blood.

Ah! As I was just drinking, the spirit ministered unto me. And I had a vision, despite my sight. I saw so many people outside the PDP house. Crying, vomiting and begging for a piece of paper. But one big dog insisted they should kiss its rump. Then, with a wagging tail, it entered the house and closed the door. Sending all the “lamentators” away. The crowd included James Ibori, Joshua Dariye, Tafa Balogun, DSP Alamieyeseigha, Asari Dokubo, Orji Kalu, Victor Attah, Sam Egwu,  Atiku Abubakar, Achike Udenwa, most Northern governors… and all those who have stepped on “big toes.” Then, the spirit said, “this is the biggest and ‘wickedest’ party in Africa. The only party that can rig the opponents out of an election. Then rig its members out of the umbrella.”

• First published in Saturday Sun of  Oct 01, 2005