LONDON, July 21 – In a move that has simultaneously enraged and bored the British Foreign Office, a retired Nigerian general and his wife have been abducted by persons unknown. The British High Commission, ever eager to prove its relevance, has offered 'joint rescue resources.' Cue heroic sigh.
Let me set the scene. Somewhere in Nigeria, a man who once commanded battalions is now being commanded by a chap with a rusty AK-47 and a grudge against the pension system. His wife, presumably furious at having her evening gin interrupted, is also in the clutches of these entrepreneurial gentlemen. The Nigerian government, predictably, is 'exploring all options' which in diplomatic speak means they're praying the High Commission has a few spare drones.
Now, the British High Commission has stepped in like a well-meaning uncle at a wedding: 'We have offered joint rescue resources.' What does this mean? A cup of sugar? A spare Land Rover? Or perhaps a sternly worded letter? 'Dear Kidnappers, return the general or we shall be terribly cross. Yours, The Queen's Representative.'
Let us not forget the sheer absurdity of a retired general being nicked. This is a man who presumably spent decades avoiding bullets, only to be cornered by a bunch of lads in balaclavas while he was probably just trying to enjoy a plate of jollof rice. The wife, no doubt, is livid. 'I told you, Bisi, these kidnappings are getting worse. But no, you wanted to visit your cousin.'
And the offer of 'joint rescue resources' is a classic piece of bureaucratic theatre. It sounds impressive, but what exactly are we sharing? Maps? A thermos of tea? The reality is that the British government has about as much leverage in this situation as a chocolate teapot. They will 'monitor the situation closely' and 'offer consular assistance' which inevitably means a phone call to the nearest Pizza Hut to ask about delivery times.
The kidnappers, likely a splinter group of splinter groups, have probably already sent a ransom demand for 50 million naira and a lifetime supply of Indomie noodles. The general, meanwhile, is probably trying to negotiate his own release by lecturing the kidnappers on military strategy. 'No, no, you should have approached from the east, that's where the door is weakest.'
In the end, this story is a perfect metaphor for modern diplomacy: a lot of noise, some vague promises, and a great deal of gin consumed by journalists like me. The general will either be released after a quiet payment, or he'll become the latest footnote in Nigeria's endless saga of insecurity. Either way, the British High Commission will be there, taking credit and offering more 'resources' that nobody quite understands.
So raise a glass to the abducted general and his wife, and to the brave souls at the Foreign Office who will now spend the next few weeks pretending they know what they're doing. Cheers.
