Jonathan By Bashir Lucas Samson Lukman

I was at the football field this evening — yes, that same one where that guy dribbled me mercilessly — and I overheard a guy talking passionately to his friend: “Yoruba people are very cunning and devilish. You cannot trust them…” He went on and on until I couldn’t help but respond. The first thing you must note in this article is that to the Isese-practicing Yoruba, I am less of a Yoruba man being a Muslim, but far away from Yorubaland — where I was probably the only Yoruba man in the midst of over 50 people — I refused to keep silent and defended the dignity of the Yorubas.

“Why would you say that though?” I said to him. “Do you know Hausas showed me hell this month during a business that led to dissatisfaction for my customers?” I added.

“Where are you from?” he asked, and I gave him a more detailed answer. I said:

“I am a Yoruba man, but let us take it from here. I mentioned some Hausas that disappointed me to you, right? Well, one of them was the one I paid millions of naira to destone and polish rice for me, and he did a shabby job, then covered it up. I had the same experiences with the Hausas that handled the logistics. However, the interesting part is that for the man at the rice mill and the logistics guys, a Hausa man had gone to one of their houses to engage him physically, and another had been vexing against the one at the rice mill. Would it not be an insult to the sensibilities of these Hausas — who are against their fellow brothers who wronged me — if I judge them based on the actions of those scoundrels?

Stereotype is bad and counterproductive to the peace of a nation. If you think you have something on the Yorubas, go to where Hausas and Yorubas are talking about Igbos (he is Igbo).

Being a man, a Muslim, a Nigerian, and a Yoruba man, I am at the receiving end of four stereotypes: as a man, a woman judges me based on her bad experience with another man; as a Muslim, I am perceived as a terrorist or terrorist sympathizer; as a Nigerian, the white man is prejudiced against me; and as a Yoruba man, here we have it again. Stereotype is bad, and we should rise above it. I want to judge you based on our interactions, not project my experience with someone else onto you.”

By now, he was calm and said I should tell that to my brother, President Tinubu, especially with the rate of terrorism and banditry in the land. “I hope Trump comes to deal with them,” he said. Another guy who was listening quickly interrupted, saying, “No o, that will worsen things for us,” and the friend he was originally speaking to said, “Why not? Should we keep dying?”

“Why do you think an average Nigerian whose life is threatened by insecurity will refuse help from a foreign body that seeks to bring peace to his land?” I asked. He replied, “Maybe because they think they will steal our resources — but isn’t that better than dying?”

“I understand your sentiments, but can you mention a country America sent soldiers to that is living in peace today without being a puppet in the hands of America? Syria, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Libya, etc. — any one? It goes beyond resources; it will be bad for us. However, if America eventually makes its way here, if it ends well, we will all enjoy it; if it ends badly, we will all also be at the receiving end,” I said.

I pulled out my phone and showed them some posts I made against Tinubu a few days ago. I told them that if I feel the need to support Tinubu on a particular cause, I will do that — so what I criticize him on is not to entertain anyone’s bias. Regarding insecurity, all hands must be on deck to address it. Whatever Tinubu is getting now, he deserves it because he also took advantage of insecurity to get his way into power. If Sowore or Peter Obi becomes President today, they may not be able to do any better.

The guy who began the discussion said to me, “No wahala, but tell that your brother Omotosho that if I catch am…” I asked who that was and his friend said, “The judge in charge of Nnamdi Kanu’s case.”

“Haha! You want to break my head because of a man I don’t even know his name? He is doing his job, and being a Yoruba man has nothing to do with his judgment. Even if it did, it has nothing to do with me.”

As I was preparing to leave, the friend walked up to me and said, “Chairman, thank you. What is your name, please?”

“Lucas. And you?”

“Jonathan.”

Bashir Lucas Samson Lukman