KEN UGBECHIE

Away with a people’s seasonal show of shame. Away with the tacky tale of a nation unable to wean herself from getting drunk with her own urine. Let’s take a break from the toxic tales of a nation steeped in the seething pit of toxic petrol. Nigeria is that nation. A nation barbed by ocean and rivers but does not have potable water for her citizens.

Israel, United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia are tucked in parched desert with neither enough rain water nor flowing rivers, streams and oceans but they all have potable water for their populace. They practically produced fountains of water from the flint. And created oasis in the desert. Yet, the country that squats by the bank of the Atlantic Ocean and innervated by rivers cannot provide clean water for her populace. The same country endowed with one of the finest grades of crude oil (Bonny light) with vast deposits of gas underground cannot quench the hunger for petrol by machines operating within her jurisdiction. So, she imports refined petroleum products to satiate her local market.

As always, the toxicity of the petrol was not detected at the point of shipment; was not noticed at Nigerian ports (berthing port); was not even spotted at the point of distribution with all the representatives of government agencies including the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA), – The Authority.

And even while in the frenzy of importation of refined petroleum, she still subverts her own rules, imperils the lives of her populace and waits for another opportune time to repeat the process. How do you rationalize that in less than three decades, Nigeria has imported killer petrol a record four times. In 1996 (Mohammed Abacha fuel), 2003, 2008 and now in 2022, Nigerians have been treated like the experimental guinea pig by those charged with the responsibility of importing refined petroleum products, especially the popular Premium Motor Spirit (PMS). In all the cases, the killer products were imported by the bourgeoise with their cronies and family members. What drives them is profit, even if the nation burns. The latest in this episodic theatre of the absurd is the recent importation of petrol with heavy traces of methanol (up to 20 percent). As always, the toxicity of the petrol was not detected at the point of shipment; was not noticed at Nigerian ports (berthing port); was not even spotted at the point of distribution with all the representatives of government agencies including the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA), – The Authority. It was only discovered after a good quantity had been dispensed causing damage to both man and machines. If it were something edible, it could still have followed a similar pattern. It could still have found its way into Nigerian market and then homes and killed aplenty before we raise the red flag.

But that’s not my worry. I am not worried that a few Nigerian companies imported noxious petrol to harm Nigerians and their machines. We’ve done it before and we are capable of doing it again. My worry was the crude intrusion of that horrendously callous act into the celebratory space marking the triumph of Senegal at the just-ended African Cup of Nations (AFCON). Much of the world, from Africa to Europe, especially England, where Mane laces his power-packed boot for Liverpool football club are still celebrating. The spring of emotion was not for Senegal breaking a jinx by winning AFCON for the first time. It’s not for Aliou Cisse, the sprightly Senegalese coach who also played good football in his younger days. It’s was for one special player, the Overall Best Player of the Tournament, Sadio Mane.

Mane was singled out for his off-field sense of humanity and simplicity. Mane does not flaunt his wealth. He’s described as one of the top EPL players you could still find using a regular car. Yet, he is reputed as one of the top 10 earners in his club, earning £11 per minute, £645 per hour, £15,485 per day and over £108,000 per week.

Mane is the simple guy with a simple name whose football is a rich textbook of grit, flair, shilly-shally shimmies, turbo-tackles and feline speed. I have always been a fan of Mane for his discipline and ferocious devotion to football. But my respect for this African Ambassador in England shot to the heavens a couple of years back. Attending a media programme (and also holidaying) in central London at that time, myself, an Egyptian and two English blokes (all journalists) got enmeshed in wide-ranging conversations from politics of Brexit to Africa dependency of the West and how the Western world has helped to make fat the incubus of corruption strangling Africa. Men will always be boys. All too soon, our conversation tapered into football: the English Premier League. We discussed top players and their big scandals; match-fixing, dubious officiating, big money spenders, players’ lifestyles, players’ pay cheques and lots more. Among the African contingent that ever strut their stuff at the EPL, Nigeria’s Nwankwo Kanu was treated with reverence for his guile and on-field shadowy presence. As one of the English journalists put it, ‘you don’t notice he’s there until he causes you harm’, referring to Kanu’s uncanny ability not to be in the face of the opponent while being all over the place.  Mane was singled out for his off-field sense of humanity and simplicity. Mane does not flaunt his wealth. He’s described as one of the top EPL players you could still find using a regular car. Yet, he is reputed as one of the top 10 earners in his club, earning £11 per minute, £645 per hour, £15,485 per day and over £108,000 per week.

True, Mane was born poor, grew up poor in his Bambali town of Senegal, played kiddies’ football barefooted or in torn boots and over-size jersey before playing his way into Generation Foot Academy from where scouts ferreted him to Metz in France. That move to France in 2011 triggered a whirlwind of beautiful episodes in his soccer career, and culminated in his move to Liverpool.

Yes, Mane was born poor, but poverty was not born in him. Humility was. Humanity was and it is bearing fruits of philanthropy.

He once said in a media interview: “Why would I want ten Ferraris, 20 diamond watches, or two planes? What will these objects do for me and for the world?” Mane said in 2019, as reported by AS.

“I was hungry, and I had to work in the field; I survived hard times, played football barefooted, I did not have an education and many other things, but today with what I earn thanks to football, I can help my people.

“I built schools, a stadium, we provide clothes, shoes, food for people who are in extreme poverty. In addition, I give 70 euros per month to all people in a very poor region of Senegal which contributes to their family economy.

“I do not need to display luxury cars, luxury homes, trips and even planes. I prefer that my people receive a little of what life has given me”.

As you read this, Africa’s Best Player at AFCON, – he played like a man possessed – is still living a simple life, doing good, lifting humanity out of poverty, feeding the poor, planting hope and mentoring hordes of future champions. He’s a true African legend, a worthy African Ambassador and a living role model for other Africans, who, thrust to fame and fortune by Providence, have abandoned home. Mane never left home. He lives in England, he lives in Africa, in Senegal, among the poor. In fact, he lives in our hearts and on this special moment in his life, we have nothing but well-wishes for a man who would rather take the shame for others to get the glory.