APC’S COMEDY OF ERRORS
Ya Umarr
Picture this: the SLPP is lounging in the sun, sipping Kool-Aid, while the APC is busy lighting firecrackers under its own feet. It’s a political comedy in three acts—one where the opposition party seems to have mastered the art of self-sabotage with the grace of a bull in a china shop.
Act One: The Party That Fights Itself
Forget the media, forget the press conferences. The SLPP propaganda machine has hit snooze. It no longer needs to worry about opposition critiques because, well, the APC is doing such a fantastic job for them. The APC leadership is not fighting the government—it’s busy fighting itself. The once-powerful engine of electoral resistance of the once mighty APC seems to have been thrown into reverse, as the party’s two warring factions have reached an absurd crescendo of chaos. In fact, it got so out of hand that the APC’s own secretariat had to call in the police to protect them from their own supporters. Yes, the opposition needed the police to defend themselves from… themselves. This, of course, is no ordinary family squabble.
In this latest episode, the APC can’t even get the basics done. Remember the Agreement for National Unity (ANU)? Well, the party hasn’t exactly benefitted anything from it. Out of eight resolutions, only those that didn’t challenge Bio’s ego, or those that require action from the APC were actualized. The rest? “Work in progress.” It’s been a year, and there are still political detainees deemed to be APC; politically motivated cases have not been dropped by government; and APC exiles are still at liberty abroad.
Meanwhile, the promise of any real benefit from the Tripartite Committee’s recommendations is as elusive as a GPS signal in the middle of nowhere. In fact, the government has developed a roadmap for implementation and created a steering committee without involving the opposition. What’s left of the party is just a hum of frustration, with no nerve to register their protest. Like a scene from a tragic drama, we’ve watched it go from opposition to a full-blown complaints department, and a lame one at that.
Act Two: The Tango of “Questions, Not Demands”
The highlight of the meeting with international stakeholders, however, is the APC’s approach to electoral fraud. Instead of demanding action—something that might actually get the SLPP to squirm—the APC has decided to ask questions.
Yes, the very people affected by the electoral fraud are now waiting for the diplomats to do the heavy lifting for them. “Hey, would you mind looking into the issue of electoral fraud?” they seem to be saying, as if the diplomats have a magic wand to fix their woes. In essence, rather than demanding justice, the APC is asking the diplomats to ask Bio for justice. Meanwhile Dr. Samura Kamara was in the same room playing mute, waiting for his supporters to impute meaning to his silence.
It’s a classic case of playing the victim while failing to raise the sword.
The APC leadership seems more interested in saving face than actually taking the bull by the horns. They expect the diplomats to be the ones to overturn the Chief Electoral Commissioner’s announcement. The “save-face” strategy always backfires spectacularly. Standing still won’t take one to the finish line. If the opposition is too afraid to make a demand, how can they expect others to fight on their behalf?
Act Three: The Curse of the Bloggers
Here’s where the real plot twist kicks in. The APC, once united in their rebellion, has been torn apart by good old WhatsApp and the infamous “Mammy Cuss Revolution.” Traditional avenues for dissent have been stifled under the weight of Bio’s repressive regime since 2018. Free speech has been shattered by oppressive state forces.
In this void, a unique and potent form of protest has taken root—maternal invectives. Known as Mammy Cuss in our local parlance, these deeply personal insults target the sanctity of one’s parents.
But now it seems that the very people who once unleashed the most personal and brutal insults in the political trenches against Bio are now caught in their own web of slander.
For the APC, it began as a tool of revolt, a way to jab at the heedlessness of Bio and his government. But now, in a tragic-comic twist of fate, those very insults are turning inward. Team A, once the scheming masterminds of the party, have now become a house divided. They’re more concerned with sniping at each other than fighting the SLPP. It’s like watching a snake eat its own tail—tragic, and utterly ridiculous.
The party’s leadership, meanwhile, seems preoccupied with responding to random WhatsApp chatter and aimless social media invectives. It’s as though the strategy of “fight everything on WhatsApp” has become their new modus operandi. Instead of responding to real political issues, the APC’s high-ranking officers are reacting to random, often trivial, comments on the internet. It’s like a never-ending game of political circus, but with a lot more noise and no actual message.
Missed Opportunities: A Rugged Path to 2028
October 15 Protests
The APC has developed a habit of missing prime opportunities to connect with its grassroots supporters who are vital to its success. A recent example is their decision to distance themselves from the October 15th protests for electoral justice, even though the timing was perfect with international stakeholders present. This, of course, left their supporters confused, to say the least.
Here was a party that had every reason to be fighting tooth and nail, yet they chose to sit on their hands while their base clamored for action—all because of a hapless Samura. It’s a classic case of cutting off your nose to spite your face.
Rantings of the US Ambassador
It is not just the APC executive that has a knack for slipping on banana peel at every turn. Samura and his supporters have also perfected the fine art of missing the mark. Take their handling of the Tripartite investigation, for instance. If opportunity was a gift, they left it unopened and wandered off.
When the US Ambassador made his stance crystal clear—saying there would be no cancellation or re-run of the election results—Samura supporters conveniently chose to misconstrue it. You know how people believe what they want to believe? The Ambassador might as well have shouted his message from a rooftop, but our APCians only heard what they liked. This was the first time the Ambassador had given them a chance to react. He practically handed them an open door to challenge things before Samura signed the final recommendations.
But what did Samura do? He waltzed into State House, pen in hand, with a grin that could outshine the sun, signing that document like it was the deal of the century. Hugs all around. No hint of trouble, no sign of disagreement. And yet, after all those smiles and handshakes, Samura would have people believe he was unhappy with the outcome. You can’t have your cake and eat it, as they say.
So at a time when the APC could have been using the Ambassador’s words as leverage, they were instead rolling out the red carpet for him. Rather than seizing a strategic moment, they once again find themselves scrambling, trapped in a mess of their own making. This, of course, is classic APC—forever reacting too late or too wrong, as the opportunity they desperately need slips further out of reach.
Earlier Protests
Samura and APC supporters missed key opportunities to protest before the Tripartite investigation concluded, opting to do nothing when even a small action could have made a difference. A simple sit-at-home protest would have sent a message.
But no, they let their overexcited comrades lead them into a dream world, where blind hope replaced good judgment. Meanwhile non-Samura bloggers organized protests to show solidarity for electoral justice. Instead of supporting these efforts, pro-Samura bloggers actively blocked them, using every tactic to stall meaningful action. As a result, they squandered another chance to stand up when it counted most, leaving them once again reflecting on what could have been.
For a party in opposition, the APC has become shockingly comfortable, as if the next election (2028) is still eons away. But the clock is ticking. The executive will face the electorate once again, and when that time comes, they’ll still be haunted by the ghosts of electoral injustice and be given a sombre reminder of the consequences of putting their interest above the people on whose account they occupy their positions. They simply failed to show
leadership when it was most needed.
Sadly, this political comedy is far from over. The APC might be sitting on the edge of the stage, laughing at its own mistakes, but if they’re not careful, they’ll end up being the punchline of a much darker joke—a party that fought itself to the brink of irrelevance.