Prof., Where Are Your Homers?

By Valentine Obienyem—

My attention was recently drawn to a barrage of invective from the Prof’s underfed minions. I understand they have even begun serializing my long exchanges with Prof. Okey Ndibe. I recall those days with clarity: we crossed swords with the ferocity of two enemies meeting face-to-face in war. It was an intense period, so much so that the Management of The Sun resolved that neither Ndibe’s criticisms of Mr. Peter Obi nor my rejoinders directed at Ndibe would be published again.

Those serializing it today should, at least in the interest of objectivity, publish the exchanges side by side. Anything less is pure mischief. What they are doing is a classic case of “nwoke nuchaa ogu, nwaanyị enweru akụkụ.” Let them continue.

I have also seen their desperate attempts to compare Mr. Peter Obi with Prof. Charles Soludo. Why waste time on such irrelevancies? When Obi stated that he governed as a trader and that our brother should govern as the professor he claims to be, did that sound like a man seeking comparison? Obi is far too mature for that sort of nonsense. Following in his footsteps, let the petty-minded continue to throw tantrums. May they not infect great minds like Dr. Mefor.

We reiterate that Obi is now playing in the Champions League (Presidential), having left the lower league (Gubernatorial) over thirteen years ago. This is an existential fact that cannot be controverted by any known logic.

If the Professor is anxious to be proclaimed the best among Nigerians, we have no problem with that. But he should at least find credible voices to make such proclamations—voices that command respect. When your heralds are themselves diminished, such as Ejimofor, Adichie, Machi, Paji, and other little demons with no regard for propriety, how seriously can their pronouncements be taken? A man isn’t crowned by jesters and expects his crown to shine.

Let me illustrate with an image from antiquity. When Alexander the Great visited the tomb of Achilles, he placed a wreath upon it and exclaimed: “O fortunate youth, to have found Homer as the herald of your victories!”

Achilles was a warrior of unmatched prowess, a central figure in the Trojan War. Yet his greatest fortune was not merely his triumphs in battle; it was that Homer—the most credible voice of his age, a poet incapable of proclaiming false victories—was the one who celebrated them. Achilles’ deeds endure because they were sung by a man whose word carried truth, majesty, and immortal authority.

So when those I earlier mentioned—”achikota ekwe onu“—take it upon themselves to compare, to proclaim, or to adorn a man in borrowed robes, their verdicts cannot be taken seriously. Their praise diminishes, their words confer no honor; they only dilute it. Their rants are only made worse when characters like Mrs. Ethel Obiakor, ever an unserious mind, are the ones cheering them on.

In the same vein, the simpletons who malign Mr. Peter Obi and his aides behave exactly as I recounted of those who once hurled abuse at Buddha. When a fool insulted the Enlightened One, Buddha listened in silence. When the man had finished, Buddha asked:

“If a man declines to accept a gift, to whom does it belong?”

The fool answered, “To him who offered it.” Buddha replied, “I decline to accept your abuse and request you to keep it for yourself.”

So it is with Obi’s detractors. Their foul words, their petty invective, their desperate attempts to demean are theirs alone. They cannot touch a man whose character, actions, and intellect stand beyond their reach. Just as Buddha declined to accept the simpleton’s abuse, so too do Obi and his aides refuse to be dragged down by the vulgarities of the Prof.’s simpletons. Let them keep their anger, their envy, and their foolishness; it is theirs, and they cannot impose it upon greatness.

Contrast this with Obi. Those who speak of his character and his leadership are the Okonjos, the Achebes, the bishops, the imams, the Obasanjos, the Jonathans, etc. What does that tell you?