The British imperialists and my people have so many things in common: wickedness, unforgiving spirit, vengeance-seeking, brutality and selfishness. But the most outstanding commonality is Deception. Deception is our breakfast, our lunch, our dinner and our supper. We breathe deception. We dream deception. It is our way of life; our mantra.
Right now I am about to prepare my hand-over notes. I don’t know whether to feign illness and be hidden in a hospital, or run away, or plan my own abduction and get declared missing, or what?
No, suicide is not an option. And I don’t intend to stop my steroids. What should I do? What should I not do? It is a dilemma since my culture forbids me to admit anyone into my confidence.
Should I handover to Danbazzar? He is too bookish.
Should I handover to Gum-Arabic since he has unfettered access, nay absolute control over the local and imported terrorists? Luckily there is nothing to distinguish my armed forces from the rag-tag militia men of the terrorists’ camps. They speak the same language and wear the same military fatigue.
Should I handover to Ruffi? The problem is his acceptability. People consider him too smallish, too tiny, and too terrible to be trusted with enormous power. Some say he never sleeps, not because of the occupants of his harems but because his brain is too restless and his heart is full of blood.
I have Brutu to consider but my worry is about his snaky way of life. He is so enamoured with snakes that he may find it difficult dealing with normal human beings. He is a loyal servant, but sometimes being too blindly loyal may be a big minus.
In any case why should I bother myself about who takes over once I am out of the picture? Although some fear that a situation may arise that blood will begin to flow. Rubbish! Is blood not flowing now? Blood flows ceaselessly in our veins or outside our veins. When throats are slit, blood flows. When bombs are detonated, blood flows. When AK-47 rifles are unleashed on hapless farmers and kidnapped victims, blood flows. Blood is not designed to be stagnant.
I remember my school days. There was a game called ‘Wild Goose Chase’. Our teacher used to send us on ‘wild goose chase’ as a sport. We loved it because of the promise that a huge prize was attached to it.
We would all be dispatched to the bush with a promise of mouth-watering prize for whoever came back with the wild goose. Some of us would spend a whole week in the bush chasing after the mirage of a goose. Some got killed by wild animals during the search for a goose!
I understand there is a similar game among the Yoruba people of West Africa. It is called a request for ARODAN. Cantankerous children are sent out of the house so that peace and normalcy can be enjoyed by others, especially the parents in a home. A troublesome child is sent to, may be, ten houses away to request for an Arodan for the parents and will be told never to return empty handed without the Arodan.
House after house will tell the child to go ask from an elder in the third or fourth house away and assured that he will be given the Arodan for his parents. May be after trekking over a mile from his parent’s home and looking weary and worn-out, an elder would then ask him how far gone he has been in his search for the elusive Arodan. At that point the elder, like the previous elders who know why the child is sent on an errand for Arodan, will tell him to go back to his parents with the assurance that an Arodan will be forwarded the following day. Or better still, an object, any object will be wrapped up and given to the child to give to his parents as Arodan. Nobody has ever seen what Arodan is since it doesn’t exist, whatever object sent is the Arodan.
Now, I have sent some old men and women on a ‘wild goose chase’. Some of them have gone as far as Japan and Australia. Some have gone to China and Russia looking for Arodan to be brought back to me. Some have gone to England and Dubai, and I understand some are planning to go to the Moon in search of the wild goose.
It appears that a tiny minority of the people being deceived have wizened up to this trick of Deception and are already writing papers, running commentaries, and even doing videos as preachers, prophets and bloggers warning people that the whole exercise is quest for an Arodan.
This is another dilemma for me as I may have to change tactics and begin to make Plan B and Plan C. The important thing is that I must be on top of the game at all times. That is what I inherited from my ancestors. And it has kept us in power over those who claim they are better endowed than my people.
POSER ONE:
‘There is no art to find a mind’s construction on the face’….William Shakespeare
POSER TWO:
My bread is in APC, but my heart is in PDP.
POSER THREE:
Does anyone know the Carpenter who trained Emiefele for the Banker’s job?
