THE ELECTORAL DISTRESS

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During my term in NYSC 2018/2019; I served at the Independence National Electoral Commission (INEC), Jalingo in Taraba State. Then, I could not comprehend the fear of the people for fighting desperately in getting their Permanent Voters Card (PVC). Every morning, I always attended to an angry mob who were ready to tear down the building, if they had not gotten their PVC. I recall a lot of people sustained injuries as a result of the struggle. Being so naïve about the state of our country, I asked my colleagues, “why is this election so important to these northerners? It is not like we are being recognized by these leaders, neither does our votes count”; but I was given a reply which I couldn't comprehend, “because they want to be heard, they want to make sure they get who they choose and they make sure it counts.” Each day that passed brought more curiosity than the other, these northerners sure knows what they are looking for and really had a “wonderful” way of showing it. It was more appalling when one fateful Thursday, a man in his early 50s walked in to our building, demanding to see our Director; we quietly took him there and to our utmost surprise, he knelt down and started crying, praying to the director to please give him his PVC, “It has been over five years since I registered for my voters card and till today I have still not gotten it.” He said, “I don’t sleep easily because of this and even if I do, all I see is the downfall of Nigeria! It is a Nightmare! I can’t take it anymore! PLEASE GIVE ME MY PVC!!!” Amused by what I had witnessed, I said, “Never in my life have I seen so much concern for our country and the future it holds”. My senior colleague smiled at me and said; “it is so obvious that you are new to this part of reality, is this not how it is done in your state?” I replied a NO by just moving my head sideways. “Well”, he continued, “it has been rumored that their PVC is being sold to the electoral candidates; and this news has got them bewildered. Just like that man, most of them have not gotten their PVC for over four to five years, with the excuse of their cards not ready. This is an opportunity for them to be recognized as a people and by doing that; they really need to cast their vote.” For a little while, he gazed at me, he noticed the confusion in my eyes and said with a sad smile, “you still don’t get it, do you?” I didn’t. The day of the Presidential Election came through; and I participated as the Assistant Presiding Officer (APO II). I remember the anticipation of the people who waited for our arrival. People putting in their votes once, twice and three times in a row, just to make sure their party wins. Eventually, APC won and the joy that filled taraba was rather scary. The former governor of Taraba State,Dairus Ishaku, ordered a curfew because of how violent it was turning out to be. Unlike the Presidential Election, the Governorship Election was a cruel one. Sadly, I couldn't participate due to how brutal it turned out to be. A lot of people were killed in cold blood because of their need for a Muslim governor. The memories of young men moving about with their guns, cutlasses and fire; ending the life of anyone they come across, still makes me sick. Even one of the presiding officers in my polling unit was murdered. Anything to make sure there was no repeat of a Christian governor. Unfortunately, they failed. After the Governorship election, there was tension everywhere. People went out with fear, with the hope of coming home to their families. Each goodbye was like bidding farewell to thy loved ones; with a quiet and silent “till we meet to part no more” singing in their hearts; each one afraid to say the words out loud. The news of a Christian still ruling over them was what they were not ready to adapt to; and they dreaded every part of it. Again, they were not going to be like their fellow northerners who had Muslim Governors; and it brought more anger to their soul. Never had I ever felt such nervousness in my life. I missed home and every being in me screamed for it. None of this made sense to me till I read, Americana by Chimamanda Adichie. I began to see a whole lot of similarities between the Muslims and the blacks when the former President Barrack Obama, won the presidential election; and the existence of a black person ruling the United States of America. The bliss that filled the hearts of every black person including Non-Americans and Africans knew no bounds. I came to understand the desperation, the sleepless nights, the rage and the bloodshed that were shed, just to have their religion take over the state. This makes me wonder of the fate of our country if we are placed in the hands of the wrong leaders for another eight years, the thought of it brings shivers to me. The question “HOW ARE WE GOING TO SURVIVE?” keeps me awake more than the days I stayed awake listening to the gunshots and the cries of the people who were murdered in Jalingo. Then it was just a matter of religion, now it is matter of our lives. Each time I look at my PVC; it’s like holding my future and that of my children in the palms of my hand. The prayer for Nigeria in distress are our words to God; but how much actions do we put to prove our words?

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