"The Fools Day" Case

<h1>TCESC Archives: The Fools Day Case</h1>By Emmanuel Daniji Morning in the TwoCents Empire States of Creatives (TCESC) rarely begins with silence. Normally the group wakes up like a Lagos bus park — opinions flying, philosophers typing essays nobody requested, poets dropping cryptic lines before breakfast. But on this particular morning… the group was unusually quiet. Because someone had filed a lawsuit. A serious one. The court clerk stood up. “Order in the TwoCents Court!” The room was full. Christians sat confidently on one side.Muslims sat calmly beside them.Traditional worshippers leaned back with the quiet patience of people whose beliefs were older than colonial maps. At the center sat a man dressed entirely in black. Nobody knew his real name. He had introduced himself simply as… The Dark Poet. Counsel for the Atheists. At the front of the courtroom sat the judge. Black robe.Sharp eyes.And the calm confidence of a man who had moderated enough TwoCents debates to qualify as a professional referee. Justice Emmanuel Daniji. He tapped the gavel. “Court is now in session.” The clerk read the charge. “Case number TCESC–001: The Atheists versus Everybody That Believes Something.” A murmur rolled through the room. Justice Daniji leaned forward. “Counsel for the complainants. Present your case.” The Dark Poet rose slowly. He spoke like a man who had rehearsed the speech under candlelight while listening to rain. “Your Honour… members of the TwoCents Republic…” He gestured across the courtroom. “We live in a society that celebrates belief.” He pointed to the Christian corner. “Christmas.” To the Muslims. “Eid.” To the traditionalists. “Festivals that existed before Portuguese ships found our shores.” He paused. “But atheists…” He spread his hands. “We have nothing.” Someone from the gallery whispered, “You have fr Data, Social Media and arguments.” The clerk banged the desk. “Silence!” The Dark Poet continued. “This is a matter of equality. If believers are given days of celebration… then those of us who believe in no deity should also be granted a national holiday.” The courtroom fell quiet. Justice Daniji nodded. “Counsel for the Christians.” A young man stood up with the confidence of a preacher who had delivered sermons longer than this entire case. Apostle John Oyinloye. He opened a Bible like a lawyer opening legal evidence. “Your Honour, Christianity does not celebrate holidays for entertainment. They are sacred reminders.” He turned slightly toward the Dark Poet. “And the scripture is quite clear about disbelief.” He read aloud. <blockquote>‘The fool says in his heart, There is no God.’</blockquote><blockquote> — Psalm 14:1</blockquote> A ripple of murmurs passed through the room. The Apostle closed the Bible gently. “So if our learned friends insist on celebrating disbelief… we pray they also remember the wisdom attached to that declaration.” Soft laughter moved through the gallery. Justice Daniji nodded. “Counsel for the Muslims.” Umar Farouk stood up with calm composure. Measured words. Quiet authority. “Your Honour,” he began, “Islam respects the right of every person to choose their belief.” He paused. “But the Qur’an also reminds us of something important.” He quoted calmly. <blockquote> ‘Say: He is Allah, One.</blockquote><blockquote> Allah, the Eternal Refuge.</blockquote><blockquote> He neither begets nor is born.’</blockquote><blockquote> — Surah Al-Ikhlas (112:1-3)</blockquote> He turned toward the Dark Poet. “And the Qur’an also says…” <blockquote> ‘Let there be no compulsion in religion.’</blockquote><blockquote> — Surah Al-Baqarah (2:256)</blockquote> He smiled lightly. “So if our friends wish to celebrate disbelief… Islam will not stop them.” The gallery chuckled. Justice Daniji nodded again. “Counsel for the traditionalists.” A man with beads, leather bracelets, and the calm of someone who could identify medicinal leaves in the dark rose slowly. Kelvin Something. Nobody knew the rest of his name. Or maybe they did. But it was safer to just say Something. He bowed slightly. “Your Honour… before churches and mosques came… our ancestors already understood something about the universe.” He pointed upward gently. “In the Yoruba tradition we say…” <blockquote>‘Olódùmarè ni Ọba gbogbo ayé.’</blockquote><blockquote>(The Creator is the ruler of the universe.)</blockquote> He continued. “And our elders also teach…” <blockquote> ‘A kì í rí iṣẹ́ ọwọ́ Ọlọ́run kí a sọ pé kò sí.’</blockquote><blockquote> (You cannot see the works of the Creator and say there is no Creator.)</blockquote> He looked toward the Dark Poet kindly. “But if the atheists wish to celebrate something… perhaps they can celebrate gravity, since even unbelievers obey that one.” The courtroom exploded with laughter. Even Justice Daniji chuckled. The Dark Poet raised his hand. “Permission to respond.” “Granted,” said the judge. The Dark Poet stepped into the center. “Your Honour… belief systems have sacred books and ancestral wisdom.” He nodded respectfully to the other counsels. “But atheists are simply people who are not convinced.” He spread his hands. “So we request equal recognition.” Justice Daniji leaned back slowly. He looked across the courtroom. At the Christians. At the Muslims. At the traditionalists. Then finally at the Dark Poet. “So you are asking this court… to officially grant atheists a holiday?” “Yes, Your Honour.” The judge nodded thoughtfully. “Well…” He adjusted his glasses. “This court has listened carefully to the arguments.” He lifted a small notebook. “The Christians reminded us of the words of Psalm 14:1.” <blockquote> ‘The fool says in his heart, There is no God.’</blockquote> He turned another page. “The Muslims reminded us from the Qur’an that…” <blockquote> ‘There is no compulsion in religion.’</blockquote><blockquote> — Qur’an 2:256</blockquote> He nodded toward Kelvin Something. “And our traditional elders remind us that the universe itself is evidence of mystery.” He paused. The courtroom leaned forward. Justice Daniji smiled. “So after considering all positions… this court finds that atheists already have a holiday.” The Dark Poet frowned. “Your Honour?” The judge raised the gavel. “April 1.” Silence. Two seconds. Then someone from the gallery shouted, “APRIL FOOL’S DAY!” The courtroom erupted. People laughed so hard the clerk had to bang the desk repeatedly. Kelvin Something laughed until his beads rattled. Apostle Oyinloye shook his head while smiling. Umar Farouk covered his mouth trying to maintain courtroom decorum. Justice Daniji tapped the gavel. “Order!” Then he added one final remark. “You see… human beings have always been confident creatures.” He looked across the room. “Some are certain God exists.” He turned to the other side. “Others are certain He does not.” He paused. “But history has humbled too many confident men.” He lifted the gavel one last time. “So perhaps the wisest position any human can take…” He tapped it gently. “…is leaving a little room for mystery.” Case dismissed. Later that evening, someone posted in the TwoCents group chat: “Breaking News from TCESC Supreme Court. April 1 — Official Atheist Holiday Dress Code:Red clothes.Serious face.And a willingness to laugh when the universe laughs back.” --- Peace.— Emmanuel Daniji ✍🏽

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