It was one year last week Saturday that legendary Nigerian footballer, Rashidi Yekini, died in what the Nigerian media would characteristically describe as “mysterious circumstances”, a shorthand way of labelling a situation that is not so cut and dried but which they would not be bothered to diligently investigate. Since his death, a lot has happened in the life of our nation but very little, actually, has changed.
In another one year or thereabout, the anniversary of Yekini’s death will
lose more sting and activities marking it –if it ever comes- will fly under the public radar. In more years to come, Nigeria’s European-football-crazed-youths will be hard-pressed to recall that somebody called Yekini ever mattered to our football. In our typical way, we would find it easier to discuss Bayern’s beating of Barcelona and why it makes Messi integral to the cherished game.
I am pretty young and I must confess I do not vividly remember all the tales of Yekini the “Goals Father” (as he is described) in his prime but I do partly recall the winding down years. From what I gathered about him, he was peerless. I also remember vividly, his iconic celebration in 1994, when Nigeria played against Bulgaria in her first outing at the FIFA World Cup game in Boston, USA; there, he scored the very first goal for the country.
Quite unlike how goals were celebrated collectively by the team –unless of course you are a Roger Milla who runs to the edge of the pitch to do his waist-wriggling signature dance — Yekini ran into the post, gripped the net with an intensity that could only have been mustered by a man overcome by the ecstasy of winning, and muttered words nobody ever heard. Recently, I read an article on Super Sports that insinuated that he died with the “secret” of what he said at that moment. That is not quite true. I saw a TV interview many years ago where Yekini was questioned about that moment of celebration and he said what he said he said that day.
A skilful player, Yekini led the attack line of the Super Eagles for many years, 14 years and eight months. In this time frame, he played 60 international games for the Super Eagles and scored a whopping 37 goals. Although he was said to be uncomfortable with stardom, he became a household name.
After the highs of 1994 –the Africa Cup of Nations win and maiden World Cup appearance, and the lows of 1998 –the drubbing by Denmark at France 1998 World Cup, Yekini called time on his international career. Later, the story changed to say that he was pushed out; that many were uncomfortable with the shadow he cast over them and that he was getting too old for the game.
His fade from our national lives is narrated from different angles and his “mysterious death” exacerbated the stories. One version of the stories about his death said he was mentally unstable and his family, in the quest for a cure from native/religious healers, fatally harmed him. This report was initially told by his neighbours and was recently corroborated in a newspaper interview by his lawyer, Muhammed Olanrewaju. Olanrewaju said Yekini was forcefully taken out of his house by people who claim to be “healers” and was kept under their watch for three weeks. As the story goes, Yekini was held under certain dehumanising conditions. These do-gooders who wanted to cure him of his malady, perhaps, didn’t know their altruism bordered on criminality.
Another version has it that he was never insane, he merely suffered from bouts of depression as a result of his financial losses. He was also anti-social, and that fuelled the rumour mill about his mental state. Either Yekini actually had mental problems, or he was merely depressed, there is a lot about his death that didn’t look right. It is a shame that one year after his death, there has not been a conscientious effort to put a closure to the circumstances surrounding his death. His family members, in interviews, give conflicting accounts of his mental state and the abduction that reportedly led to his death.
Whichever version is true, Yekini deserves an inquiry into his death and also justice, if applicable. His fans and countrymen should know what and/or who killed him. Did he actually die of natural causes, or those who were trying to cure him made some mistakes that led to his death? And what might we learn from his death for the mentally-ill in Nigeria? As things go in our society, to be mentally ill is a shame. People who should be helped by western medicine are hidden at the houses and courtyards of all kinds of charlatans who pretend they know what mental illnesses are all about. Rather than cure their victims, they subject them to inhumane practices, some of which one cannot even imagine without shuddering. If Nigeria were a different country, we would raid many “prayer-houses,” many native-healer homes and similar places where mentally-ill individuals are confined, thoroughly abused by illiterate healers who are just looking to eat.
By not doing anything concrete about the death of Yekini, Nigeria betrays him. We are a country where we prayerfully sing all the time that the labour of our past heroes should never be in vain. Yet, we actively bury them even while alive. When Sam Okwaraji slumped and died on the pitch of the “old” National Stadium, Lagos, there were hues and cries. Heaven and earth were pledged but what became of it all? His old mother, Janet, was quoted in an interview with a national newspaper two days ago to have expressed her “disappointment” with the way the government failed to fulfil the litany of promises made to her after his death. The Nigerian factor swallowed up everything. In the place of true immortalisation, a sculpture of Okwaraji stands outside the old National Stadium. It is a donation by the government of Lagos State and its existence helps those who failed in their duties to assuage their conscience, and sleep well at night.
At Yekini’s first year memorial and book launch in Ibadan days ago, no big wig of the Nigerian Football Federation was present. The same absence too marked the memorial football match between the Lagos All Stars and Ibadan All Stars. If you go on the NFF website, there is nothing about Yekini’s book, memorial or the memorial novelty game stated on that space; a silence borne out of a culture of nonchalance about institutional memorialisation. The NFF, by doing that, unwittingly, gives football a sad hand and fashions a rod for its own back. This sadly has been its stock in trade all this while. And it is in sync with a country that betrays its best but delights in honouring its worst.
No comments:
Post a Comment