‘A Dog’s Dinner’: A Shakespearean comedy in Rivers State
By James Henshaw Jnr
A dog’s dinner is a phrase commonly used to describe the aftermath of a very messy situation. The goings-on in Rivers State, Nigeria can be described as such, and if one were to cast a beady eye, it would even qualify as a Shakespearean comedy. In my 2016 play, The Re-Education of Gina Obi, the aspiring student sought to impress her rather cantankerous lecturer with an intelligent question, “Sir, is Nigeria a tragedy?”
Fired up, he replies, “If Shakespeare were to be alive today, he would find in Nigeria material to write a play even greater than any of his greatest plays!”
Indeed, if William Shakespeare were alive today, he would no longer need to look to ancient Rome or Elizabethan court intrigues for inspiration—he need only turn on his 42-inch Samsung TV, grab his Apple MacBook Pro and furiously take jottings. The sheer political acrobatics, betrayals, and farcical antics playing out are enough to make any of Shakespeare’s funniest comedies look like a dull Monday morning at the office. What we are witnessing is a play so rich in comedy, tragedy, and unintended slapstick that even the ancient bard himself might have struggled to keep a straight face while writing it.
Shakespeare’s works endure because they reflect fundamental truths about human nature. The Rivers State debacle highlights the same themes that have shaped history for centuries: loyalty as a double-edged sword, the intoxicating nature of power, and the inevitable downfall of those who grasp too tightly at control. The people of Rivers State—the audience in this grand theatre—watch as their leaders, supposedly elected to serve them, instead engage in a prolonged power tussle.
And therein lies the true tragedy. Amidst the pageantry of political warfare, real governance is forgotten. The spoils of war—control over state resources, lucrative contracts, and political influence—become the true prize, while the needs of the people are relegated to the background. In this sense, the drama of Rivers State is neither comedy nor tragedy—it is a farce with real consequences.
Act I: Much Ado About Oil Money, the making of a tragedy
ONCE upon a time, Siminalayi Fubara and Nyesom Wike were the best of pals—mentor and protégé, Batman and Robin, Jollof and Plantain. But as with all great friendships in politics, the moment money, power, and ego entered the chat, the bromance turned into a political WWE match. Now, Fubara, the current governor, and Wike, the former governor turned federal minister, are in an all-out brawl that makes The Real Housewives of Abuja look tame. But, as Shakespeare warns us time and again, unchecked ambition and overreliance on perceived loyalty rarely end well. Fubara, seemingly unwilling to play the role of mere puppet, decided to assert himself. Enter chaos, stage left.
Act II: Macbeth, but make it Nollywood
MUCH like Macbeth, Wike appears to have found power a difficult thing to relinquish. He built an empire during his tenure, an empire he still wishes to control. But unlike Duncan, Fubara refuses to be an easy sacrifice at the altar of a former leader’s political appetite. Instead, he wields his own dagger, not dipped in literal blood but certainly in the political equivalent: defiance. The ensuing fallout has led to the dramatic escalation of this unfolding tragedy—impeachment attempts, dramatic public accusations, and ultimately, the suspension of the incumbent governor by a federal authority intervening as though it were Zeus descending from Mount Olympus.
Act III: The Comedy of Political Errors
IF Wike and Fubara’s fallout is Macbeth, then the broader political landscape surrounding them is purely The Comedy of Errors. Rivers State, one of Nigeria’s wealthiest due to its oil reserves, should be a beacon of development, yet it now finds itself a grand stage for what can only be described as slapstick governance. One cannot help but envision Shakespearean clowns—bumbling courtiers running in circles, contradicting themselves, and making a mockery of institutions designed to uphold democracy.
It’s hard to tell whether we are still watching a tragedy or if we’ve slipped into a full-blown Shakespearean comedy. The impeachment attempts, the power struggles, the ever-changing alliances—it’s like The Comedy of Errors, but with much higher stakes (and oil money involved). The absurdity reaches new heights when we consider the irony of party loyalties. Wike, originally of the opposition PDP, is now in cahoots with the ruling APC, a convenient dance of alliance that would make even the wiliest of Shakespeare’s jesters nod in approval. One moment he’s railing against the ruling party; the next, he’s breaking bread with them, all while his own political offspring writhes under his shadow.
Meanwhile, Rivers State, one of Nigeria’s richest, is stuck playing the role of “that wealthy friend whose life is somehow still a mess.” Instead of development, we get grandstanding. Instead of governance, we get political karaoke nights where everyone insists they’re in charge but nobody can hit the right notes.
Act IV: All’s Well That Ends… chaotically
SHAKESPEARE’S plays typically end with either restoration or devastation. So, how does this masterpiece end? Will Fubara emerge victorious, the Henry V who claims his crown? Will Wike orchestrate one final political plot twist, revealing himself as the true puppet master? Or will the entire saga collapse under its own weight, leaving behind nothing but meme-worthy headlines and a few political careers in tatters?
One thing’s for certain: if Shakespeare were alive, he wouldn’t bother with fiction anymore. He’d just grab a front-row seat, sip some palm wine, and let Nigerian politics write the play for him.
Curtain falls. But as with all Nigerian politics, expect an encore, somewhere soon!
