When a short comedy skit becomes a national x-ray, it is worth paying attention. That is what happened the day I stumbled upon Kevin Arua, popularly known as KevinBlak’s work, specifically the now-famous concept, “Let’s See the Edit.” The clip appeared on my timeline because my brother and friend, Dele Farotimi, reposted it. I watched one. Then another. And suddenly, it became clear to me: KevinBlak is not merely a comedian; he is one of the most important satirists of our political moment.

His “edit” is not entertainment. It is diagnosis.

His craft reveals what many Nigerians intuitively know but often struggle to articulate: governance in Nigeria, and across much of Africa has abandoned conscience and fully embraced the camera. Leadership has drifted from accountability to performance, from duty to dramatization. And with every skit, Kevin Black exposes this shift with unnerving precision.

The “Edit”: A Perfect Metaphor for a Broken State

In KevinBlak’s universe, the “edit” is the polished version of failure, the sanitised clip of a harsh reality, reworked into something pleasant, orderly, and deceptively acceptable. The real event is abusive, incompetent, or negligent. But the edit is the beautifully packaged lie.

In this sense, KevinBlak is not exaggerating.
He is documenting.

What he captures is the standard operating mode of governance today:
conceal the truth, record the performance, edit the optics, and broadcast the illusion.

The striking irony, however, is that the only people who actually experience the real event, the victims, are also the ones most harmed by the edit.

The Victims: Living the Pain, Watching the Illusion

The first group that Kevin Black exposes is the group that suffers government failure firsthand: the ordinary citizen. They experience the real event, whether it is police brutality, public harassment, poor service, or outright state neglect.

These people are not fooled.
They know the edit is false.

Yet many fall into denial when confronted with the official narrative. They know the reality, but they still try to reconcile it with the propaganda. And from denial, some slide into something even more troubling: Stockholm syndrome.

They begin defending their oppressors. They attack anyone exposing the truth. They romanticise their abusers in the hope that loyalty will buy them escape or favour.

They know the edit is fake. But they cling to it because it promises inclusion in a system that excludes them.

The Collaborators: Those Who Benefit From the Rot

The second category KevinBlak exposes consists of those who profit from the dysfunction. These individuals face no consequences from governance failure; in fact, they thrive on it. Their comfort depends on the system staying broken.

For them, KevinBlak is a threat, not because he is wrong, but because he is right.

Their public outrage is not ideological; it is economic. They are fighting for the preservation of the very machinery that feeds them.

They know the system is not working, nobody honestly believes it is but acknowledging that truth would jeopardise their advantage.

The International Audience: Not Deceived, But Complicit

There is yet another category: the foreign donors, development partners, lending institutions, and global bodies that governments desperately seek to impress. KevinBlak’s satire exposes their role as well.

These groups are not fooled by the edit.
They know the realities.
They have the data.
They have the intelligence.

But they need something to work with, something to justify continued engagement, loans, grants, and partnerships. The edit becomes their moral shield. It enables them to pacify whatever institutional conscience remains, while protecting interests that have little to do with the welfare of the governed.

Thus, the government performs for the camera;
the world pretends to believe the performance;
and only the citizen suffers the real event.

A Mirror We Cannot Afford to Ignore

What KevinBlak offers is not humour.
It is civic documentation.

He is cataloguing the transformation of governance into theatre.
He is archiving how leadership constructs illusions.
He is revealing how the powerful weaponise optics, and how the public internalises or resists those optics.

In a nation where official narratives often overpower lived realities, Kevin Black restores balance. He gives voice to the truth in an era dominated by the edit.

The great satirists of history, Jonathan Swift, Ken Saro-Wiwa, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, and, in our current time, Dan Bello Bello Galadanchi, using the Hausa language, did not merely entertain; they indicted.

Kevin Black stands firmly in that lineage.

A Word to Kevin Black

Kevin, you have my profound respect.
Continue.
Document.
Expose.
Reframe.

Because one day, when researchers, historians, or a future generation asks what governance felt like in this era, your work will offer clarity. Your skits will stand as evidence. Your satire will become archive.

And history will be grateful that you picked up a camera not to deceive, but to enlighten.

Do have an INSPIRED rest of the week with your families and friends my people.