OPINION: Fr. Okoli, Amadioha, Wike And Obi: Redeeming The Irredeemable

One of our brothers recently added Amadioha to his name. The full name avoided any English name. He reminds us of Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, who abandoned his Christian name during his campaign for African authenticity and became Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga. But Mobutu ended up proving that changing names is easier than changing character. Authenticity became his slogan; despotism became his legacy.

That thought was still on my mind as the Mass ended today and I bought a copy of “Fides” newspaper. The first article that caught my attention was written by Fr. Constantine Echichechi Okoli, titled “How to Choose a Baptismal Name.” After explaining the types of names – whether saintly or Igbo – that may properly be chosen, he writes specifically about the category of names that should not be used. His words:

“Names directly associated with evil spirits. No matter the level of inculturation or adaptation, the Church does not endorse names such as Baal, Moloch, Beelzebul, Ekwensu, Amadioha… these are, at best, renounced.”

After reading the article, I opened my Facebook page to get some news. Coincidentally, the first thing I saw was where the same Amadioha was interrogating Minister Nyesom Wike, a man whose public conduct often resembles that of an overgrown juvenile.

Any person can go on air and start abusing anybody, brandishing “otoro gbugbuo gi” with reckless vehemence and in a harsh, guttural voice, perhaps the consequence of  a uvula destroyed by alcohol. This is what Wike does, and some people erroneously call it courage when it is, in fact, a brazen display of poor upbringing. In spite of being buffeted daily by all manner of characters, have you ever seen Peter Obi hurl abuses at anyone? Even fools can become ministers, while history recounts that some imbeciles have even been clothed in purple.

But what Amadioha wrote was a sort of psychological analysis of Wike’s intermittent dancing. Beyond its superficial scratching, we shall move inwards, analysing Amadioha’s analysis itself. In doing so, we shall bring to the surface some of the meanings he was on the verge of revealing, only to conceal them again.

His first paragragh Reads: “TBH, I’m sometimes somewhat conflicted about how to feel about this chap’s acrobatics.”

There is no conflict here. It is the antics of an inwardly unhappy man who must pretend otherwise in order to project confidence, command attention, and persuade both himself and the public that all is well. Excessive public merriment is not always evidence of inner joy; at times, it is a carefully cultivated mask. The louder the performance as seen in Wike, the greater the possibility that it conceals an inner disquiet. What ought to concern us, therefore, is not the dance itself, but what the dance seeks to distract us from.

Amadioha then offers what he considers the first side of the dilemma: “On the one hand, I feel like he’s having fun, getting attention by entertaining the public and physically exercising his body.”

The key expression here is “getting attention.” There is hardly anything man has not done, including the bizarre, merely to attract public attention. History is replete with such examples. It immediately reminded me of the story of Alcibiades. He inherited a large fortune and spent it with a flamboyant versatility that fascinated gossip among his people. He bought a dog for an immense sum, cut off its tail, and explained that he had done so to give the Athenians something to talk about, so that they might say nothing worse of him.