Alex Mascot Ikwechegh: A Fitting Mascot for Culture of Impunity in Nigeria

By Farooq A. Kperogi The internet is ablaze with a viral video of House of Representatives member Alexander Mascot Ikwechegh from Abia State...

By Farooq A. Kperogi

The internet is ablaze with a viral video of House of Representatives member Alexander Mascot Ikwechegh from Abia State—who, in an amusing slip of self-importance, incorrectly refers to himself as a “Senator of this Republic”—brutally harassing a poised and unflappably courteous Bolt driver in Maitama, Abuja, identified as Stephen Abuwatseya.

Ikwechegh said it was beneath his dignity to be asked to make the effort to walk to the Bolt driver's car to retrieve his delivery. He wanted the driver to take the package to his room, which Bolt says is “contrary to the laid down policies regulating Bolt drivers in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja.”

In a state of inconsolably immobilizing rage, he called the driver “stupid,” “foolish,” “silly,” an “idiot,” a “monkey,” and a “rat.” 

He said he didn’t need the help of the police to beat up the driver for not acknowledging his superior social status. “I will do that myself,” he said in a fit of delusional grandeur. “I will show that I am a big brother to you, tie you up, lie you down and put you in my generator house. Do you know where you are? Because you saw me sitting outside here. Look at this monkey!”

He then proceeded to slap the driver three times. We later learned that he got the police to detain the driver.

But the driver was remarkably courteous amid the avalanche of physical, verbal, and symbolic violence visited on him by the legislator. He repeatedly addressed the abusive legislator as “sir” and politely requested to be paid for his services.

“Do you know who I am?” Ikwechegh boasted in a further fit of foul fury. “I can make this man [i.e., the Bolt driver] disappear in the whole of Nigeria and nothing will happen. Can you imagine this rat? I am not going to give this boy one naira of my money.”

The word “disappear” is chillingly transparent. It’s a thinly veiled threat of irreversible “elimination,” that is, of coldblooded murder.

And, disturbingly, Ikwechegh is probably right in his assessment of the likely outcome of the materialization of his threat. That’s what makes it even more depressing. 

In Nigeria, might invariably confers right. People who are ensconced in the silos of power are above the law and can do anything without consequences. The law is for the poor. 

Ikwechegh embodies a broader, entrenched national malaise: the culture of impunity woven into Nigeria’s political elite. He isn’t just a “mascot” in name, though his middle name, Mascot, certainly adds a symbolic flair; he is emblematic of all that is malign within the nation’s political order. 

The English word “mascot,” which can mean a person or a thing that symbolizes a phenomenon, traces back to the French masco, which intriguingly means “witch.” Its Latin root, masca, translates to “nightmare.” 

By both name and conduct, Ikwechegh perfectly fulfills the essence of a “mascot”—a nightmare, an evil sorcerer, and a symbol of lawlessness. He is a mascot for the culture of impunity in Nigeria.

Interestingly, another meaning of “middle name” is a quality for which a person is notable.

The video’s virality has nudged the FCT Police Command into action. However, they appear to be less disturbed by Ikwechegh’s assault of an innocent civilian than by his casual dismissal of the Inspector-General of Police’s office.

 According to their statement: “After allegedly slapping the victim, he reportedly remarked with contempt, ‘You can go ahead and call the Inspector General of Police,’ demonstrating a troubling disregard for the authority of law enforcement.”

One might be tempted to laugh at the irony if the reality weren’t so bleak.

Sadly, Ikwechegh has little to fear from this incident, as he predicted. Nigeria’s famously short-lived social media outrage will dissipate. Soon enough, a new scandal will replace it in the public’s attention span. 

After all, who remembers the Adamawa senator who attacked a nursing mother in a sex-toy shop in Abuja? He went on to enjoy committee assignments and even won reelection—until electoral irregularities, rather than his assault, prompted his removal. 

Ikwechegh will be advised to wait out the social media hysteria that his action has instigated. Another scandal will wash it away from public consciousness. 

In Nigeria, men like Ikwechegh not only escape accountability; they revel in a system that protects them and emboldens their hubris.

 For a country already fatigued by the rampant impunity of its elite, he is both a literal and figurative “mascot,” a grim embodiment of unchecked authority and the deep rot of a system where, for the well-connected, might indeed makes right.