By Mohammed Bello Doka
Welcome to Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka, that weekly spiritual therapy session where we dissect Nigeria’s democracy with a pinch of sarcasm — because if we take it seriously, we might all choke to death, and even then, someone will still declare the corpse “politically sponsored.”
This week’s episode: “How To Sack A Referee For Playing By The Rules.”
Yes, our dear President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has finally done what many thought impossible — he fired the INEC chairman, Professor Mahmood Yakubu, for being fair. Not for stealing, not for miscounting votes, but for committing the abominable sin of obeying the constitution.
Yakubu’s offense, according to the righteous choir of Tinubu’s kinsmen, party loyalists, and professional sycophants, was attempting to register new political parties. That’s right — his crime was giving democracy too many options. Because apparently, Nigeria’s democracy is now a monogamous affair: one man, one party, till corruption do us part.
And let’s not forget his second unforgivable blunder — he publicly complained about politicians already campaigning for 2027. Can you imagine? The nerve! How dare a man with integrity speak sense in a country where sense itself has gone on sabbatical?
So, Yakubu was quietly sent on terminal leave — that gentle Nigerian euphemism for “don’t come back.” Terminal leave, because integrity here is terminal.
In his place, the President swore in Professor Joash Amupitan — a man now tasked to uphold fairness, justice, and transparency — which, ironically, are the exact three words that got Yakubu fired.
Let that sink in.
Tinubu fired a man for being fair, then told the next man to be fair.
That’s like sacking your cook for using too little salt, then warning the next cook about high blood pressure.
The President, of course, looked solemn as he charged Amupitan to “be fair to all.” It was such a powerful moment that even hypocrisy stood up and applauded.
Now, our new INEC boss stands before history, holding two golden pens: one to write his name in gold, and another to sign away his integrity for gold. Both are shiny, but only one stains forever.
You see, in Nigeria, every appointment comes with a multiple-choice question:
A) Serve the people,
B) Serve the government,
C) Serve your pocket,
D) All of the above.
And no matter what you pick, the answer key has already been filled in at the Villa.
But let’s not despair. Maybe Amupitan is the chosen one — the electoral messiah who will finally make our votes count and our democracy make sense. After all, miracles are part of Nigerian culture. We’ve seen pastors make people vomit demons; surely an INEC chairman can make elections vomit credibility.
Still, experience has taught us that Nigerian reformers often come to office like fresh sachet water — pure and promising — until they stay too long in the sun of politics. Then, suddenly, the taste changes, and we start pretending not to notice.
Mahmood Yakubu must be watching all this from his living room, sipping tea of regret and muttering, “So fairness has consequences now.”
And he’s right. In a country where thieves get national honors and whistleblowers get dismissed, being fair is not just risky — it’s reckless.
Let’s be honest: INEC chairmen don’t just conduct elections; they conduct symphonies of chaos. One hand counts votes, the other counts blessings, and both hands are never empty.
So yes, Prof. Amupitan can either write his name in gold or fill his account with gold. But let’s not kid ourselves — in Nigeria, gold doesn’t wait for names to be written; it finds the nearest account number and logs in automatically.
And who can blame them? The system is designed like a comedy skit — except the audience is crying and the actors are smiling.
We’ve reached that stage of democracy where the opposition doesn’t accuse the umpire of bias — the ruling party does. That’s right. The APC accused Yakubu of betrayal for registering new parties. Opposition members were too shocked to join; they just watched, wondering whether to laugh or borrow sense.
It’s like arresting a doctor for diagnosing a disease — “How dare you tell me I’m sick? You must be working for the virus!”
But let’s give credit where it’s due. Nigeria remains the only country where irony not only survives but thrives. Where “fairness” can get you fired and “loyalty” can get you promoted — even if loyalty means turning truth into collateral damage.
As we wrap this up, I leave you with today’s Sarcastic Sunday quotables:
“In Nigeria, when a man says he wants to serve his country, the country starts looking for where to hide the cutlery.”
“Fairness in public office is like a candle in a hurricane — beautiful, brief, and usually extinguished by power.”
So, dear Professor Amupitan, the floor is yours. You can choose to be the referee who finally plays by the rules, or the one who collects a red card wrapped in dollars. Either way, Nigerians will still clap — because we’ve perfected the art of applauding disappointment.
Until next Sunday, remember — in this country, we don’t laugh because it’s funny; we laugh because if we stop, we’ll scream.
Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka
We laugh so we don’t cry — and even if we cry, someone will still accuse us of being sponsored.