THE MANY JABS OF BROTHER SOYINKA

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By Austen Akhagbeme

One thing no one has been able to take away from the renown Nobel Laureate and nonagenarian, Wole Soyinka, is his whimsical ability to stir the hornet’s nest anytime he wants to.

Kongi has always been that way, right from his youthful days when he took on the military juntas of the day, damning all risky consequences. His pen made him popular but the rough edges of his tongue drew him closer to his admirers and traducers alike in a seeming potpourri of mixed feelings and awe.

It is the wishes of many people that the old novelist, author, and social critic would spend the twilight of his days in a rocky chair near the Olumo rock and hills of Abeokuta, engulfed in cyclical soliloquy.

But the old war horse has refused the leisure of rest and taciturnity even in his climax. These days, he seems to be missing his hitherto unmistakable targets. Little wonder that anytime he does, tongues are sent wagging in anger and disappointment.

Nevertheless, African culture put high premium on aging and the aged. We dare not stand in their faces to show them their misdeeds. We respectfully and dutifully tolerate them and ignore the excesses. That’s what makes us Africans and not Westerners.

We must be careful not to rubbish the Icons of values as a nation in the eyes of the world in a flicker of anger that is shortlive. It is equally important that we do not labour in our prime to be ridiculed in our last days and twilight of existence. There must be a point of convergence evenly acceptable to all. That is life.

Nobody can stop the old Professor from throwing jabs in his old age. It has been his favorite pastime from his dateless past. The trouble is that he’s now missing his targets continuously. Instead of blaming those who cooked the bad meal, he’s blaming those who complained. Let us tolerate Kongi until he’s done with his harvest.