Eniola Badmus says sorry to Laide Bakare and calls for peace, and the comment section is still not satisfied

My people, put down the plantain. Today’s gist is not a fight. Today’s gist is the apology. Yes, the one we waited for like it was a Premier League final.

Eniola Badmus has apologised to Laide Bakare and called for peace. I repeat: peace. In Nollywood. In this economy. If I hadn’t read it twice, I’d have asked someone to confirm with the elders of the village.

Now, we all know how this works. First there’s the incident, usually at an event, usually with cameras, usually with an unfortunate number of phones that suddenly start recording, like they have a sixth sense for drama. Then come the videos, which are shared faster than rice at an owambe. Then the aunties in the comment section appoint themselves judges and jury. “Madam, you were wrong.” “No, you were wrong.” “Both of you, go and sit down.” You’d think the Supreme Court had relocated to Instagram.

Then comes the apology, the most delicate art form in Nigerian entertainment. The apology must be long enough to look sincere, short enough to avoid new problems, and wrapped in a caption about “love” and “unity” and “the path to peace,” because nothing says “I mean it” like a quote that could also sell a perfume. And the photo has to be nice. You can’t apologise in a bad photo. The apology must be well-lit.

But here’s the part that fascinates me. The fans. The fans are not satisfied. They never are. One group says, “Why didn’t she say it in private?” Another says, “Why is she saying it in public if it was private?” A third says, “I wanted her to say this specific thing in this specific tone at this specific time.” They are not fans. They are producers who weren’t paid.

And then there’s the other side of the apology, the waiting. All eyes turn to Aunty Laide: will she accept? Will she respond with love, silence, a long message, or a very short emoji that means seven different things? In Nigerian culture, an apology is only half the transaction. The other half is a “let’s move on” or a stare that could cook yam.

Let’s be fair. Apologising publicly is not easy, especially in an industry where everybody is related to someone who knows someone who was at the premiere. Credit to anyone who says sorry, as long as the sorry isn’t just a PR press release dressed in lace.

So here’s my wish. May the peace be real. May the next premiere be the kind where people argue about the movie, not about the seating. And may the aunties in the comment section find a hobby, something safe like knitting.