HE was supposed to be a friend, but he turned traitor at a critical moment. The cars were ready to head to the traditional wedding/engagement venue, but those who could be left behind spoke frantically of their fears. The man who was supposed to be a friend quickly invented an idea: 'Let me go and bring my car. I left it at home.'He had never spoken of a car, but no one could question him at that moment. Not even the groom, who knew the friend in Lagos in the early 1990s, both as a friend and as a fellow paramilitary officer. 'I only need money for fuel,' the great man continued, and quickly the resplendently-attired groom obliged him. Then, the traditional train sped off.Two blood sisters who were to come in the friend's car never made it to the engagement venue. The friend had called the groom's mobile during the ceremony, saying he was stuck in a traffic snarl and hoping that it was not too late to go and pick the left-behinds. The officer-groom collected the phone from his uniformed orderly and gave orders to the friend to proceed, to conquer the snarl and pick his sisters up. The people at home waited and waited, but the great man never came. They had to make an alternative arrangement to make the reception, but the scant presence of the groom's family members had not gone unnoticed. Where was our friend' He had apparently been stuck in the snarl for the entire Saturday. Treachery is not easy to mask. There was no car anywhere, and the friend had only hatched a plan in service of his financial need, many later concluded.Oladipo Diya, Chief of General Staff (CGS) had known Ishaya Bamaiyi, Chief of Army Staff (COAS) for decades'he, in fact, was said to have facilitated the COAS' appointment on a balance of ethnicity which C-in-C Sani Abacha was blind to. For the December 20, 1997 ''coup' Bamaiyi was reportedly the agent provocateur, the straight-faced traitor who left his friend, senior and benefactor in the lurch. 'Where is Bamaiyi' Where is Aziza'' the CGS reportedly thundered even in his manacled state, operating in the belief that this incident was organised 'right from the top' to ''do' him in, as William Golding's littlun's quip in Lord of the Flies. Ngugi Wa Thiong'O has dwelt so memorably on the poetics of treachery and betrayal that is it is almost impossible to ignore him in this macabre dance of angst and agony, of pain and the irredeemableness of pawned souls. Simply pick up Petals of Blood, Devil on the Cross, Weep not Child, I will marry when I want, or any Wa Thiong' O within your reach.Let us flash back at Gbongan, a town in Osun State. 1986. The woman in our tale, a market woman, was virtually roasting in the sun, when a sleek ride approached, a ride she quickly recognised. But the car sped off with impatience. Two weeks later, Iya Jide told her elder sister: 'Mummy, I saw you at Gbongan last week. I was waving at your car but you did not see me. How I suffered on that day!' And the reply: 'I saw you. You were too dirty for my liking. Your clothes...' There were tears on that day, because it was the younger woman who had laboured with their mother, so that her elder sister could go to school....Does affluence rob people of their humanity, their sense of duty' How else was a kola woman on the way from a market supposed to appear' Like her banker sister'Another picture from a novel: One fellow without a known mother has been making life hell in another state. Among other acts of treachery, this fellow appropriated the premises of a state polytechnic, got the state government to buy a fleet of cars for him after leaving Government House, organised the blatant and mindless rigging of local government elections, and then imposed a toll gate. The supposed ruler, a political dunce, has zero structures, and had no choice in the nomination of a running mate. Till tomorrow, he mentions the name of his former deputy at public events, but he has a robust pact with the media. Only one frontline has stood up to the real ruler, whose boys are ever ready to run down anyone who refuses to see eye to eye with their irredeemably corrupt master, and would 'do' them if they got half the chance. The jolly fellow, leader of the new saviours of the land, even rigged the courts, and for his invaluable services craves the leadership of a race...Let us return to our groom. 'You mean you are getting married and didn't inform me' Me' This is serious!' After profuse apologies, he mellowed down, then promised an incomparable gift, three days to the event. The following day, the high chief called to reveal that he had changed his mind, that he would convert his gift to cash. Hours later, while the groom was awaiting his turn at the registry, his call came again: 'I am right now in the bank. In about 30 minutes' time, you should see my hand.' Why do people lie to this degree' For days, the ATM machine protested the deception with a passion.Treachery is the background colour of this green-white-green: the rulers betray the people as a matter of right, the people betray themselves compulsorily, and the country will definitely collapse under the weight of traitors. The country itself is fake.When you buy a stove these days, the wick is useless. Engine oil is bad, and elubo (yam flour) is contaminated. From your house to the office, everything is fake: even the banks do not sort out salaries in time, and your Christmas may be hewn in want. The eateries are now, as I said recently, deathries: they serve yesterday's meat pie, improperly cooked meat, and other maggots. They are not only bad; they are bed, as some Nigerians quip with a fake accent.Awolaja is on the staff of the Nigerian Tribune
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