The many headaches of a nation can roast a healthy kidney; can knock out a good heart. A nation that glorifies falsehood is already a sickbed and no one can rule her unless they are already sick.
One can recite a litany of falsehoods:
The falsehood of stopping corruption when indeed it is being encouraged;
The falsehood of running a democracy when elections are almost always considered unnecessary;
The falsehood of having a National Assembly which meet few times with few individuals that have few ideas to debate;
The falsehood of being a nation that is not qualified even to be a country;
This falsehood and that falsehood and those falsehoods waiting to gain national acceptance.
It’s a horror film worse than a vampire story.
While the president is still on his sickbed praying for recovery, they have already buried him at home. It should be possible to think someone to death. Why look for coherence in a discourse of discords? Another sick fellow is in a hurry to tell the story of a national sickness from their own sickbed.
You see, my friend, the casket maker is praying for someone to die, for the market to be good. The doctor prays that patients may consult; after all, it was a serpent that turned to healing staff in the desert. The patient in a hospital ward is praying for recovery. And God almighty is wondering which prayer deserves to be answered first.
Tell me which is better: a sick president or a sick nation?
Which dies first: a sick president or a sick nation?
That big sepulcher called the State House is Frankensteined for widowhood. Sometimes when I look at its dome, I see a thousand burials cast their votes.
I think Nigeria needs more mortuaries and more cemeteries. The available ones are already test cases in Crowd Phenomenon.
Sick nation is attitude.
Sick nation mocks itself.
Sick nation consumes itself.