I already have too much on my proverbial plate to counter-productively attempt to immerse myself in marginal, ideological side-shows. Still, sometimes one comes across a lambent-witted contribution to an otherwise charlatanic and self-serving discourse on why some monstrous dictators ought to be made an exception to the rule of justice and fatuously coddled, by drunkenly pretending as if such hideous monstrosities were amenable to reason and appreciative of the alienable right of others to democratic self-determination (See Modernghana.com 3/22/11).
And then, naturally, of course, one cannot resist the urge to heartily congratulate that astute contributor for infusing logic and common sense into such otherwise vapid discourse, where all that had hitherto passed for discursive acuity had actually and patently been nothing short of guff.
Thus even as I heartily congratulate Dr. Oguchi Nkwocha, although I may not necessarily agree with him on every one of the finer details regarding what exactly constitutes self-determination in practical terms, especially in the postcolonial “multi-nation,” nonetheless, on the question of the veritable white-elephant that is the scandalous so-called African Union, there cannot and ought not be brooked any facile attempt to conjure up mansions of steel beams and concrete blocks where that which clearly prevails is a smoldering house of cards.
Then also, one is apt to wonder, and even ponder, what it is that sinisterly motivates some seemingly reasonably well-educated people to believe that they could readily get away with mischief, simply because in the specious name of our collective Africanity, it may opportunely appear to be the “in-thing” to do. And on the latter score, of course, the allusion is to the very paralogical notion that, somehow, in auspiciously and foresightedly voting with the rest of the membership of the United Nations Security Council in order to salubriously pare Col Muammar El-Gaddafy down to size, as it were, Nigeria, South Africa and Gabon have, somehow, betrayed this nightmarish phantom called the African Union (AU).
I should, ordinarily, love to believe that there ever existed anything called African Union, but I guess having been a teetotaler for some three decades, such drunken lunacy lies way beyond the farthest extent of my purview. But such pathological and morally crippling madness, it may interest you, Dr. Oguchi Nkwocha, to learn, has virtually become the norm under the shamefully visionless tenure of Ghana’s so-called National Democratic Congress. And for my part, wherever I encounter such troglodytic emanation, almost invariably parading as a voice of reason, I crush it like a cigarette butt, squirt a generous glob of spittle on it, and make certain that the next drunken lunatic to pass this way will not be tempted to light up the same.
And if I may hurriedly interject, while we are still at it, isn’t it at once morally embarrassing and perplexing enough that those of us in the ECOWAS sub-region have yet to make the eruption of cholera a thing of the past? I guess I had to veer this way, Dr. Oguchi Nkwocha, seeing that you have the title of “M.D.” appended to your name. which, of course, simply means that you are a “Real Doctor” and not a pretender to the same. But, of course, this is not the real thrust of my submission at this juncture. Needless to say, I was actually about to observe that when I read that part of your rejoinder politely thanking that godforsaken Brooklyn tenure-chaser, I thought you were a “Jap,” particularly with such first name as “Oguchi,” which almost sounds like a striking variation of “Noguchi,” as, of course, in Noguchi Institute. But then, when I add your surname of “Nkwocha,” and immediately recall the fact that my own teenage daughter’s mother is from Imo State, then, of course, one wants to contradict Mr. Elechi Amadi by mirthfully acknowledging that, after all, “it is not yet sunset in Biafra.”
Which is not to say that I support the quite revolutionary, and even adventurous, idea of a Biafra Republic, except, of course, your inalienable and democratic right to dream of the same. And, to be certain, it is the summary and barbaric abrogation of even such basic oneiric splendor, and contingency, by Mr. Gaddafy and his “September revolutionary madness,” which the godforsaken writer to whose “naiveté” (Doc., you are rather too kind and gracious!) you so deftly crafted your unarguably poignant and eloquent rejoinder, would mischievously have his audience mistake for “The Green Book.”
Lest I forget: Doc., actually, you are nowhere near the money, when you so charitably assert that such cultivated “naiveté” is “uncharacteristic” of the author. Maybe this is your first encounter with such gratuitous assault from the author, who is the unofficial longtime Communications Director of Mr. Jerry John “Avaklasu” Rawlings. I hope you did not miss the media report alleging the Dzelukope/Sogakope Mafia strip teaser to be calling for a “dialogue” between Mr. Gaddafy and the popular revolutionaries of Tripolitania. A dialogue of bullets, no doubt. And you really think such call is uncharacteristic of Col. Gaddafy’s Amen Corner maestros among the bloody rank-and-file membership of Ghana’s so-called National Democratic Congress?
Anyway, my brother, “Kedu!”
By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr., Ph.D.
Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr., Ph.D., is Associate Professor of English, Journalism and Creative Writing at Nassau Community College of the State University of New York, Garden City. He is a Governing Board Member of the Accra-based Danquah Institute (DI) and author of “The Obama Serenades” (Lulu.com, 2011).