Two days ago, that is, on Wednesday, 1st of January, we entered a New Year – this year 2025. Indeed, in the mid-night of Tuesday, 31st December, 2024 that rolled to join the mid-morning of 1st January, 2025 we entered another year, this year! At 9:00 p.m. of Tuesday, 31st, December, 2024 I was in bed gazing so much into the generator of my un-deep and deep learning and what would soon emerge as that of a new sensation that would conduct me to a new experience. My gaze was not an ordinary one. It had the expression and dignity of the spiritual and of the mystical. I enjoyed what came to me. But I dozed off only to be woken up by the chime of my phone’s alarm at that nicely delicate mid-night/mid-morning hour.

A new year, another new year, had gently, softly marched in, marched into my life (and into yours as well). The alarm ceaseless chime interrupted my elaborate and expensive spiritual revue. But what was revealed in my short early night nap was intellectually, mystically and spiritually invigorating. But for now, what must be held back, must be held back. And what must be said now must be said now – as a curious or as an intriguing introduction to 2025. (Happy Yunyen! Yunyen!!! Oh! I recollect, recall A Garden of Moods. Mine.).

2024 was a wicked year; it was a very wicked year. Its wickedness in one instance we all saw in the hunger in the land – as the column drew concise attention to last Friday in its appearance in the gone year which mirrored the total decay of the country’s middle class. 2024 cruelly sent the middle classes comprising of many retirees right from 2023 to a place where they would be eventually wiped out, if they do not resist frontally the decadent ones in political power and authority. How can they do this?

Simple, I must say. But I won’t go the whole hog here – meaning that I won’t spell out what I meant and mean to say thoroughly and unreservedly. The little thing I want to give vent to here and now (as I am allowed to give vent to) is this: The Nigerian middle classes comprising of our universities’ dons, bankers, oil and gas workers, senior civil servants and other professionals, including lawyers and journalists are no longer, under this democracy that is not really a democracy, morally committed to the aristocracy in power and authority.

The listed middle classes and others not mentioned or listed here must realise as never before that they can no longer be dependent upon the aristocracy in the presidency, the national assembly and the judiciary as well. The middle classes really have nothing to lose because the ‘aristocracy,’ in actual fact, are subordinate to the middle classes – which are surprisingly giving acquiescence to the shenanigans of the ‘aristocracy’ which have gradually steadily been absorbing and destroying them through diverse stratagems. Things, from my observation, came to a head and to the acme in 2024, the year of decay.

As a matter of fact, our ‘aristocracy’ are a decadent aristocracy whose decadence especially in the just gone year is enabling me to label 2024 as the year of this country your country my country our country’s cheaply cheap and senselessly senseless decay.

President Ahmed Tinubu, our PAT’s first media chat (since his presidency) in the penultimate Monday of December 2024 clearly underscored this feeling in me, and I became more critical of him. PAT oozed confidence and spoke confidently throughout, but I did not give him a pat on the back when the media chat ended.

Our distinguished PAT was all too meagre in his responses to the posers tendered before him. His confident mannerism did not translate to substance when he spoke his sentences of mostly substance-less ideas. I watched him long enough to come to the conclusion that the decay of 2024 will continue in 2025 if the middle classes merely posture themselves akimbo. And things would be pretty, pretty bad for the lower classes or the down-trodden denizens and natives who still exist; but will cease to exist in no distant time if pretty President Tinubu the pretty dribbler continues with his pretty game. I swear! With what PAT has contrived and is still contriving – unless his own genie melts his heart – 2025 will be pretty, pretty horrible for them. They will dis-server themselves from the world – to deprive themselves of all interest in life – to vanish, to disappear, to give up their tiny places and meagre privileges that are really no privileges, without gaining admission to the portal of the dead.

The down-trodden of this era of PAT’s civilisation will be compelled to deprive themselves of all interest in existence. If PAT’s friend, as allegedly reported, has given up his five Rolls Royce for a secondhand Honda car, a Belgium-delivered one, and PAT relished telling us the story himself in his own Emilokan mannerism or artistic manner, you do not need this writer whose pen has no gramophone, to sound or re-sound the story with a thousand gramophones or loud-speakers to all and sundry.

But know this very, very well: Tinubu is the president that has come to enjoy Nigeria, not the president for Nigeria to enjoy. And also note this capitally, even if you knew it before now: This president your president my president our president is cruising in a supremely expensive yacht, a customised state-of-the-art air-craft and cars upon cars whose costs must shockingly be out of the reach of our rich but poor clime as dictated by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, the lords pretty, pretty Tinubu cannot defy, not because he cannot defy them but because he enjoys defying Nigerians. He has, against our wishes, allegedly, in his own words, “been travelling round the globe to campaign and sell Nigeria.” Phew!

What I have dwelt on so far is not a bed-time tale. The fate that 2025 will throw at us will more than very rapidly follow the example of the decadence of 2024 of supreme or high decay. Soon, very soon, the Ibadan, Abuja and Okija stampedes will ease themselves from your and their memories, but hunger that is hunger and that is also more hungerful than hunger will keep its direct contact with the people. PAT’s vision-less economic civilisation will force it to keep on visiting us. But the middle and lower classes can separate themselves from its fatal embrace. How? Figuratively, by not standing akimbo – meaning? Answer: By not doing the akimbo gait, each and everyone. All hope, however, is not lost and cannot and can never be lost.

I have delivered this little delivery that the Supreme Spiritual Masters of Merit (SSMM) asked me to reveal when I, as a visitant, tip-toed to them in their conclave of conclaves.
Afejuku can be reached via 08055213059.