Can a stammerer be a griot? Can he tell a contrasting story? I will leave you to make your judgment… The stammerer’s full story is unfurled at the end of this piece.
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About 27 years ago, as an undergraduate of the Premier University in Nigeria, I was at the bus stop to board a bus home. It was during a fuel scarcity that transporters exploited travellers. At the bus stop, there was no bus in sight, but the crowd there outnumbered the party stalwarts at the All Progressive Congress governorship and senatorial primaries. Suddenly, a saloon car parked, and the multitude rushed. But before I raced to the door, ripped guys and huge ladies were already at the entrance. Rather than allow others in, the driver pointed at me with the rucksack on my back. I entered with “okan kan” (one heart). By the way, I was the only one he picked from the crowd.
On our way, I asked my benefactor why he picked only me. He said that because I was the only one who had the appearance of a student. That was the Nigeria we inherited from our fathers.
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