Special to USAfrica magazine (Houston) and USAfricaonline.com, the first African-owned, US-based newspaper published on the Internet.
Agbedo is a Professor of Linguistics, University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and a contributing analyst to USAfrica)
In Igbo folklore, the tale of the tortoise and his father-in-law presents a timeless metaphor for shifting sympathies and the fine line between justice and excessiveness. The allegory of the mosquito’s flight underscores the peril of mistaking hostile reactions for genuine applause, as the claps aimed at crushing the mosquito were misinterpreted as approval. By the latest outing in her well-accustomed denigration of fatherland crusade, Kemi Badenoch tends to straddle the tortoise-mosquito allegories. For quite some time now, Kemi seems to have taken up an untoward specialty of denigrating Nigeria as her lousy pastime, making disparaging remarks about her original homeland at the slightest nudge. In her new-found pugilistic fad, Nigeria has become a punching-bag, enduring all manner of spanking and pummeling with the equanimity of a sacrificial lamb. However, her unbecoming antic has of recent riled a patriot, James Akinwande, into action – stepping in to reclaim dignity on behalf of Nigerians. The tortoise-mosquito allegorical intersections and their didactic imports form the thrust of this piece.
As the Igbo proverbial lore goes, the tortoise’s father in-law invited him to help him with organising an event. At the end of the occasion, the tortoise did an abominable thing. He stole his father- in-law’s treasure. Tortoise was caught red-handed. His in-law took him to the village square and tied him up on a tree. As villagers passed by on their way to the market, they inquired and were told what crime the tortoise committed. Everybody condemned the tortoise for indulging in such abominable act. On their homeward journey in the evening, they arrived at the same spot the tortoise was still tied up. At that point, the villagers were no longer happy that tortoise’s in-law could be that wicked. At that point, the villagers’ ire turned against the wicked in-law. No matter the magnitude of tortoise’s misdeed, his in-law had punished him disproportionately.
This allegory finds a modern parallel in the ongoing saga of Kemi Badenoch, leader of the UK’s Conservative Party, who has become an emblem of polarized discourse about Nigeria. Her recent comments about the alleged theft of her brother’s shoes and wristwatch by Nigerian police officers have reignited debates about her frequent criticisms of her homeland. Badenoch, who grew up in Nigeria before relocating to the UK at 16, described the alleged theft as an example of systemic failure, stating, “Giving people a gun is just a license to intimidate.” Badenoch’s remarks, though reflective of Nigeria’s undeniable systemic challenges, have drawn significant backlash, including a rare rebuke from Nigeria’s Vice-President, Kashim Shettima. For some, her words cross the line from critique to contempt, creating a narrative of relentless denigration rather than constructive criticism. Not yet done, Kemi revved up her ceaseless critique of Nigeria on Thursday 16 January 2025, making her fixated pastime look like a tale of diminishing returns. Speaking at a British think tank event, Badenoch described the Nigerian government as “terrible” and warned of Britain sliding into similar dysfunction. She recalled how her “wealthy family became poorer” under Nigeria’s governance, a statement that reignited debates about her motivations.
Perhaps, it was Kemi’s latest outing in her well-accustomed denigration of fatherland crusade that could have riled James Akinwande into his patriotic ‘buy-back’ action. Mr. Akinwande, a UK-based Nigerian decided to reclaim his country’s dignity in a unique way. In a video, he purchased a new pair of shoes and a wristwatch to replace those allegedly stolen from Badenoch’s brother. He then delivered them to the UK Conservative Party headquarters, accompanied by a note stating, “On behalf of every proud Nigerian who felt genuinely hurt by those unfounded disparaging remarks about the Nigerian Police. We ‘buy back’ the stolen shoes and watch! (I hope it fits, tho…).” Akinwande’s act, laced with irony and patriotic fervor, shifts the narrative. It reframes Badenoch’s criticism not as a call for reform but as a form of disproportionate condemnation – a punishment too severe, reminiscent of the tortoise’s father-in-law. Badenoch’s persistent focus on Nigeria’s failures now risks overshadowing the validity of her initial observations. Indeed, there is merit in telling inconvenient truths about Nigeria’s systemic issues. The country grapples with police misconduct, corruption, and inefficiency – challenges that have sparked movements like #EndSARS. However, Badenoch’s approach appears to lack patriotic appeal or balance. Like the villagers in the tortoise tale, Nigerians are beginning to question whether the criticism is now more about self-serving political optics than genuine concern for change.
Badenoch’s narrative plays into a broader pattern where some members of the diaspora community amplify negative portrayals of their homeland to curry favour or gain credibility abroad. This strategy may win applause in foreign circles but risks alienating those at home who still see hope amid the chaos. James Akinwande’s symbolic gesture may seem trivial, but its message is profound. Patriotism is not about ignoring a nation’s flaws but about balancing critique with dignity. Nigerians are not blind to their country’s failings, but they reject being perpetually framed as caricatures of dysfunction. In the end, Badenoch’s story is no longer just about systemic failures in Nigeria; it is about the fine line between constructive criticism and contempt. Like the tortoise’s father-in-law, Badenoch risks becoming the villain of her own narrative. To critique without grace is to invite the shift of sympathy – from the messenger to the maligned.
Mr. Akinwande’s ‘buy-back’ action feeds into the didactic conversation between Mother Mosquito and her newly-weaned baby. The weanling returned from her flying practice to relive her thrilling experience to Mother. “How did it go today?” Mother asked. “Great, mother. Everywhere I flew buzzing around the humans’ ears, they were clapping for me endlessly,” the nymphal creature narrated. Mother squirmed with laughter and said: “My child, don’t mistake the ‘clapping’ for applause. Indeed, they were aimed at crushing you.” The Baby Mosquito’s eyes wizened with surprise, but the truth in Mother’s admonition, sharp as shrapnel, zinged into her marrows. Badenoch’s latest tirade against Nigeria drew thunderous applause from her audience. Yet, like the didactic wisdom of Mother Mosquito to her weanling, one wonders whether Badenoch mistakes the clapping for approval rather than a veiled attempt to crush her burgeoning political wings.
The story of the baby mosquito and her mother is a warning tale about misplaced perceptions. Former Nigerian Minister of External Affairs, Prof. Bolaji Akinyemi, offered Badenoch a similar admonition: “She would soon learn that you don’t throw your people and your culture under the bus to advance your career. She is making a mistake, but she will soon learn.” This sentiment is echoed by many Nigerians who feel that Badenoch’s critiques have crossed the line from truth-telling into a pattern of self-serving disparagement. While Badenoch may be applauded abroad for her boldness, she risks alienating her roots and losing credibility among her people. Like the tortoise tied to the tree or the mosquito who misread clapping, Badenoch may soon find that relentless criticism of one’s homeland invites sympathy to shift from the denigrator to the disparaged. As Prof. Akinyemi and others have advised, the claps she hears today may not be applause tomorrow. In time, even her harshest critiques of Nigeria will be judged, not by their resonance with foreign audiences, but by their fairness and the constructive outcomes they inspire
Kemi’s focus should turn inward, toward the rebuilding of her Conservative Party, a party grappling with its own challenges. Her ongoing feud with Nigel Farage and Reform UK reveals a troubling reality for the Conservative Party. A centuries-old political giant is stumbling under her leadership. As Reform UK surpasses the Tories in membership – hitting 131,680 members by Boxing Day – Farage’s party declared itself the “real opposition” to Labour. This milestone was marked by a stunt projecting the claim onto Conservative Party headquarters, an action that has sparked an escalating war of words. Badenoch dismissed Reform’s membership counter as “fake,” accusing the party of “manipulating British voters.” Yet Farage’s sharp rebuttal, inviting an independent audit of Reform’s membership while casting doubts on the Tories’ numbers, struck a nerve. He accused Badenoch of bitterness, claiming, “The Conservative brand is dying under your leadership.” In typical Farage fashion, he coupled his criticism with a boast: “Reform UK is now the second biggest party in British politics.”
For Badenoch, this moment is not just about the numbers; it’s a reflection of her party’s eroding relevance. Yet, instead of focusing her energy on saving the Tory ship, Badenoch continues to expend political capital on tearing down Nigeria, a country that remains far removed from her immediate responsibilities. The Conservative Party’s current plight mirrors the allegory of a house consumed by flames while its leader stands distracted, fighting distant battles. If Badenoch hopes to reverse this decline, her focus must shift inward. Badenoch must heed the warning signs before it’s too late. She has the opportunity to redefine her legacy, but only if she abandons the distractions and focuses on the crisis at hand. Nigeria does not need her unsolicited critiques; the Conservative Party, however, desperately needs her undivided attention. The clock is ticking, and if Badenoch continues to prioritize distant battles over the inferno raging in her own backyard, she may soon find herself presiding over the ashes of a once-great institution.

Finally, the allegories of the tortoise and the mosquito intersect in their shared lessons about misjudging public reactions and overreaching at the expense of one’s roots. Just as the tortoise’s in-law lost public sympathy for his disproportionate punishment and the mosquito mistook claps for applause, Kemi Badenoch’s fixation on denigrating Nigeria may seem politically expedient but risks alienating her base and diminishing her credibility. To recalibrate, she must heed the wisdom in these allegories by channeling her energy toward reviving the fortunes of her embattled Tory party rather than undermining her heritage for fleeting political gains.