The weapon of mass obstruction – Part 1

It is time to call a spade a spade or, in this instance, name the Nigerian media camera a weapon of mass obstruction. What used to be mere occasional infraction, soon corrected, is fast becoming a Bill of Rights – for a minuscule sector of the professional community. We are galloping towards an order of social fascism of which – it must also be stressed – that same society is the prime facilitator of its doom. There are times when tolerance becomes acceptance, then tacit and even overt encouragement.

Otherwise, why does it take so long to make the media photographer understand that he or she has no fundamental viewing right that overrides those of the lowest member of any gathering, anywhere and under any circumstance. Let us not beat around the bush – mobsters have taken over community, armed with nothing more lethal than the camera and a monstrous will to capture and monopolize space that belongs to the totality. The media camera has become a pest, an aggressive voyeur. Its wielders imagine that they own the world and its contents, that they have a divinely endowed right over the rights of all others, be they paying audience, invited guests, families, participating others, and indeed – most insolent of all – even the event initiators and rightful proprietors.

They snarl, they hiss, they deliver what they consider looks of withering contempt when they are politely requested to move a little to this or that side, just so that the rest of inferior humanity can share in the event. When successfully dislodged, they merely turn recurring decimal. They shove their variegated bottoms right against the faces of others in some warped notion that this is what the rest of humanity has gathered to see – their backsides – rather than the unfolding event. Never content to melt into the rest of the gathering, they preen themselves at ridiculous angles, stroll up and down sizing up guests like predators looking for their next meal, then – pounce!

But do they depart, having obtained their scoop? Do they observe the camera courtesy norm of – Shoot and scoot? Not they! They pause, linger, block audience view while they look inside their lens as if to ensure that whatever prey has been captured within the ‘magic box’ has not escaped, survey the rest of the gathering like zoo keepers presiding over caged mammals, even when those mammals are virtually frothing at the mouth in frustration, then resume the same process with the uttermost condescension. To summarize: today’s media cameraman or woman, genus Nigerianensis, believes that the sun shines through their buttocks, and that their mission is to shed light on the rest of humanity from that lower orifice.

On Saturday, June 11, 2016, I attended one of the most nauseating of such unsolicited, substitute presentations. The event was the installation of the new Iyalode of Sagamu, successor to the late illustrious Iyalode, Madame Dideolu Awolowo. I had re-organized my calendar months ahead to ensure that I could share the occasion. So, I am certain, had hundreds from all walks of life, then converged on that historic city. The day was ruined, the climactic moment stolidly obscured by the ungovernable, egotistical and abusive performance of media cameramen.

They desecrated – I repeat – desecrated that event with their thuggish performance, one that saw off one hapless interventionist after another. The sacral moment was degraded. None of the audience was able to share in that solemn heart of the investiture, when the sacred akoko leaves are placed on the head of the celebrant. Not one of the friends, family, relations, colleagues and circle whom Chief Mrs. Folasade Ogunbiyi had invited was able to witness the ceremony for which a sizable number had even traveled across the Atlantic.

Is that just? Equitable? Civilized? Or simply plain rude, unfeeling and insensitive? One half of the semi-circle of Chiefs and royal retinue seated on the dais itself were totally blocked from sight – what with the backsides of the photographers pressed against their faces! These disrespectful, uncouth cameramen clambered over one another, expanding their opaque zone until any remaining viewing apertures were lost in a general congealment. I counted them – perhaps no more than fifteen – but then they were joined by a handful of typical Nigerian copycat delinquents wielding their pathetic little phone cameras – i-pod, i-pad, i-do-as-i-please, and other ego feeding contraptions. After all, they were also armed with a camera, so they had a right to mount the royal dais and contest media thuggery with citizen thuggery.

Were we witnessing a solemn but joyous occasion, I asked myself, or a rugby scrum in the wilds of Australia? In vain did the Master of Ceremonies, one chief after another, relations and even frustrated ‘viewers’ approach to plead with them to ‘break it up’. In desperation, I even sent the granddaughter of the celebrant to them, hoping that the sight of a child would shame them, make them understand that they were setting a vile example for children, that they, in their homes would not tolerate such unruly conduct from their own children, wards, or home staff. It made no difference. They nearly trampled my poor emissary beneath their flailing legs. She threw up her hands in despair and I quickly recalled her to safety.

My rights were violated that Saturday. I swear it will not be repeated, not at any event at which my presence is an undertaking of my own free will! There will be citizen action, and if all fails, the two legs that brought me there know how to find their way out. Unlike what appears to be the condition of today’s average Nigerian public, I am no masochist, cannot tolerate cheats – even of space attribution – and insist on my fundamental viewing rights.

What exactly is the problem with these aggressors? Is this an evolving shape of status consciousness, or could it be that they are simply too arthritic to kneel or stoop so others can see over their heads – that is, if they are incapable of finding other effective but unobtrusive positions. Are these closet sadists who delight in frustrating their fellow humanity? Is it a kind of professional arrogance conferred by some mystic Super-Lens up in the skies? The older hands, who should know better, are the most culpable. If they set the right example, their rookies will learn early that the camera is not supreme – and so will the thoughtless public eager riders of this runaway bandwagon, totally out of control.

The camera is supposed to augment, not supplant. “Shoot and Scoot” – that is how their colleagues operate in other lands – Sit. Kneel. Stoop. Shoot and Scoot! That is the professional media camera culture in most parts of the world. Everything else is a travesty. There is something known as manners, and basic to any code of manners is simply: consideration for others! Nigerian media camera believe that they are above manners. Maybe they’ve never heard the word. Well, it is time that their faces are rubbed in that word, and its opposite – boorishness! These photographers must go back to school and learn the basics of their trade before angry audiences react as befits their basic entitlement as paying audiences or guests. The trend is escalating. It is time to terminate the long, demeaning posture of supine toleration.

• To be continued tomorrow