Why We Laugh When They Fall
- By Abidemi Adebamiwa
“God don catch am” is more than a clapback. It is a national reflex. In Nigeria, disgrace is rarely met with silence. It spreads through WhatsApp chats, market stalls, and barbershop banter like wildfire.
When Ahmed Idris, former Accountant-General of the Federation, was arrested for allegedly looting over 100 billion naira, nobody reached for tissues. Nigerians reached for their phones. Memes flew, voice notes buzzed, and someone even joked that he should open GoFundMe for his Kirikiri stay. It was not just justice on display, it was collective satisfaction.
Rochas Okorocha’s drama with the EFCC was another episode people devoured with delight. Videos of his arrest flooded the internet, remixed with soundtracks and laughter. Court proceedings did not matter much. Nigerians had already judged him from their living rooms and declared it sweet.
Celebrities do not get a pass either. When Innocent Idibia, known as 2Baba, said in a podcast that men were not built to be with one woman, the backlash was instant. Even after he apologized to his wife, children, and fans, the internet had already passed sentence. People dragged him with sarcasm and eye rolls, not because of hate, but because of how familiar his excuse sounded.
Then came Dr Betta Edu. During Shiloh 2023 at Winners Chapel, she gave the first testimony of the night. She recalled how Bishop David Oyedepo prayed for her in 2022, declaring “It is done,” and by the next year, she had become a minister. But when allegations emerged that she diverted 585 million naira into a private account, that same testimony returned—not as a miracle, but as a meme.
These moments are not just news. They are a kind of national therapy. In offices, when arrogant bosses get demoted or the loudest person gets transferred, the mood shifts. People smile quietly, whisper “God is working,” and continue their day feeling slightly better.
Church testimonies often carry this energy too. Someone says, “Those who laughed at me now beg me,” and the crowd erupts. It sounds like praise, but it tastes like vindication. Even joy in Nigeria sometimes needs a little enemy to make it feel complete.
One video that stunned me showed a deepfake of former President Muhammadu Buhari running into the lake of fire. The effects were dramatic and the laughter in the comments was wild. Some called it savage, others called it deserved. I watched it more than once, unsure whether to laugh or be afraid of what we have become.
We are not cruel people. We have just seen too many powerful people do wrong and walk free. So when they finally fall, we do not mourn. We laugh, and sometimes, that laugh is the only justice we believe in.
Still, we must ask ourselves hard questions. If our happiness depends on disgrace, what does that say about the country we live in? Justice should heal, not only entertain. Otherwise, we become spectators at a circus that never ends.
Maybe this is how we survive. In a land where the guilty rise and the honest struggle, public disgrace becomes the only form of balance we recognize. We laugh not because we are heartless, but because we are tired. Sometimes, that laugh speaks louder than any courtroom ever will.
So when next you hear someone say “E good for am,” listen closely. That voice might not be filled with hate. It might be filled with years of waiting to see right win over wrong. And that laughter might just be our most honest response to injustice.
- Abidemi is a political analyst and Managing Editor @Newspot Nigeria
The opinions expressed in this publication are solely those of the author. It does not represent the editorial position or opinion of OSUN DEFENDER.
