Sometime in the university, either during my first or second year, I had a roommate who was “Obasanjo’s daughter”- or so she said. We called it bullshit though, because as I recall then, her surname was “Johnson”.
Perhaps the oldest of us in that room may have been about 20 years old at the time? But no one was going to hoodwink us that easily.
If you are Obasanjo’s daughter, why is your surname Johnson?
We would have accepted if she said Obasanjo’s sister or ex-wife or something but hey… pull the other leg.
Well, as she later explained, Obasanjo had many children and no, it is not what you think, please. Be nice.
From protégés from his community who sent their kids to him, to a wide array of domestic aides, he had the accommodation and so if the ward wanted to stay in his compound and be useful around the house, they were quite welcome to do so.
From what we heard, he also offered tuitions and scholarships to all his children.
We asked these questions, naive as we were all supposed to be then, and we got the answers we needed.
So when I heard a whole “King” commence her litany of complaints with “he told me he was Obasanjo’s son and I believed him”; I was like, “Wait a minute, something is not quite adding up.”
First and foremost, THAT surname.
Does Obasanjo look like someone who will know he has a son somewhere and bring him home without ensuring he takes on the name?
And then if our memories serve us well, this “King” was at the forefront of spinning far-fetched stories to pepper us into thinking she had caught a big fish.
She was the one hyping the alleged connection between an “Olakunle” and an “Obasanjo” and forcing it down our throats that the connection existed.
She gushed and spun so many stories so while I do think that that marriage was too toxic for words, a little bit of responsibility would do King Tonto a world of good.
And now to the real issue: those egging Tonto on to continue to reach deep and smear hard and fast and apparently, this is some long lost strain of feminism?! And those of us asking that she applies some filters are “patriarchy enablers”?
What a world!
I pray for anyone reading this and myself; that when you find yourself between a rock and a hard place, that there will be a voice asking you if jumping is the ONLY option you have.
And that you listen to that voice.
The ones urging you to jump and take your chances, fear them. Run as far from them as you possibly can.
Tonto is hurting, it is very clear to see.
For some reason, and I suspect largely because of the failed investments – both emotional, time and financial – that she had made on Project Churchill; she is embittered.
And that bitterness overflows in every action she has taken since this entire saga started.
From making up to look like her nemesis, the husband she has struggled hard to convince us she hates, for Father’s Day in her son’s school; to the “happy” dance when the bride price was returned; to all the no-holds-barred rants – this is a cry for help and do you know why it is even more sad?
Like the lizards, we are all lying on our bellies, so it is quite difficult to determine which of us has a belly ache. But a lot of us have strong support systems. Family, friends, siblings… people whom we believe have our best interests at heart and, however, bitter their advice, we listen.
So we avoid public meltdowns, because we are able to let our hair down and “disgrace ourselves” with our support system; and avoid being a source of entertainment for the world who hardly even care anyway but just looking for cheap gossip.
Tonto doesn’t seem to have that, and so her meltdowns are epic and public – and she is egged on by people who tell her to “let it all out”; “have no shame”; “tell your story girl”; “smash patriarchy”.
Even worse, the only support system we may be able to pinpoint in her life, is Bobrisky.
I feel for Tonto.
And in asking her to stop talking as in yesterday and seek help to commence the healing process and get closure, it is not in a bid to shut her down.
Especially when the people who are asking her to bare it all, would not even tell their “best friends” and parents their EDDs. Until they produce a baby, a lot of these people urging Tonto on to keep airing her dirty linen, will insist they are just constipated or something.
They know better than to splash their stories in such a sordid way all over the Internet – it never forgets.
I would have said to Tonto, ignore Churchill and let him rant and seek closure via other means, but Bobrisky’s counsel seems wiser to her.
Yes she is trending, but so is Churchill. You don’t feed a dirty fire, you starve it of oxygen.
But what do I know?
These are indeed interesting times when people apply all sorts of filters to their Instagram pictures to make themselves look perfect, but forget to apply these same filters to their mind space and what emanates out of their mouth.
Welcome to Generation Z; otherwise known as the end of the rational world as we know it.