The decision to do this short story came after posting my article of same title, on current happenings in the Nigerian polity.

This is a work of fiction, though of a historical sort. Therefore, some descriptions by the author of certain persons may be taken as mere literary representations of individual idiosyncracies and some hearsay.

It seems most gloomy at the moment; but after the storm comes the calm. Let's keep hope alive! Nigeria will be great again irrespective of who is at the helm of affairs.

Lalasticlala, Ishilove, Flakkydagirl, D9ty7, Agybabe, Missterious, Philip, Omenka, Berem, AlfaSeltzer, Sarutobie, OgbeifunErom, Mizmycoli, Ngeneukwenu, Cramjones, TonyeBarcanistaetc..

*** Nigeria, 2014 ***

"Sai Baba! Sai Buhari!" I heard my cousin, Kola, shout. From the creaking of the gate, I knew he had just gotten into the compound through the wicket gate.

"Sai APC! Sai Change!" Another voice, a female's, shouted almost immediately. In a moment, I had decoded the latter voice to belong to Abike, Kola's girlfriend.

Soon, there was a chorus of voices echoing the chants.
These were Kola's friends. They had just returned from the campaign rally ground, Tafawa Balewa Square, Onikan-Lagos.

The entrance door was pushed open and Kola walked in. I was expecting his friends to follow suit, but this didn't happen. They waited outside.

"Ogoni f'Oluwa! There's even light. How long has it been on?" Kola's question was to no one in particular. He was drenched with sweat. That was probably why his friends had waited outside.

"I think it's been on since morning," my sister replied, "maybe like five minutes after your departure."

"Hmmm, that's good; that means there's chilled water in the fridge?"

"As if there wasn't when you were leaving," I replied, knowing where he was going.

He decoded my motivation, too. A cynical smile came on his face; "such half measures won't stop us from voting them out. This is the time for change."

I decided not to reply. He went to the fridge and after downing two glasses of water, got out a two litres container of water, grabbed two glasses and carried them outside. His friends greeted his advent with a cheer, they were obviously very thirsty, too.

Their voices had been low, but his presence seemed to prompt a raise this time. I relocated to the chair behind the window closest to them. Amebo? No! Information is power.

"Imagine how we've been settling for less," came the voice of Abike breathlessly, "imagine how long they've taken us for a ride. Just imagine!"

"As in eh! Sisterly, forget that thing O! Eye done clear now, breeze done blow." Such mannerism belonged to none else than Festus. Kola had informed me on more than one occasion that he was a cultist; he smoked and drank heavily, too, but they were still friends.

"You see that Amaechi dance? Na so we go take do PDP snake in the monkey shadow on election day." This was Omoh, Kola's course mate.

"Mehn, I loved that dance!" Kola said. "I can imagine how many opposition hearts would have been broken by it. That Amaechi guy is such a clown."

Though, he had said the last sentence affectionately, the impression was same as mine; only that for me, the dance had been irritating. I couldn't imagine how anyone would be pleased by the sight of a pot-bellied man twisting like an epileptic patient, suffering an attack. Had others been of same reasoning, Amaechi's dance alone would have set back the APC a good couple of votes.

They went on and on, repeating the promises made at the campaign ground. There were those made by Fashola, Tinubu, Amaechi and Oyegun. Then, they came onto those made by Buhari himself.

"Baba is not a man of many words," said Abike, "he has said it, that he will fight corruption. Whoever stole money must be prepared to go to jail."

I hoped so. I wondered if he could muster the courage to send the thieves around him to jail. This was politics and those thieves were his pillars.

"Nobody will be left out; even Tinubu said so earlier," said Omoh. He was the least outspoken of the group. I was hearing his voice for the second time since their arrival.

Though from Edo state, I wondered if Omoh was as ignorant as he sounded. Where was he when Tinubu had a brief fallout with Fashola and the latter threatened to uncover his can of worms? These things were cover stories on the tabloids. Who wasn't aware that their hasty makeup was to prevent such occurrence?

..."Coupled with that, we will see a rapid upward trend in the value of the naira; unlike what this corrupt government has turned the naira into."

"Our naira is now like ordinary paper; who knows what it will become if we allow them come back?"

"Come back where?" Multiple throats rang out. Festus continued: "Me dey reason janding O! As in, if them maga this election, I fit forsake naija forever O!"

"No, that's cowardly!" Kola promptly rebutted. "We will fight them with all we've got to restore our mandate. We cannot continue under this clueless government. We want change! Sai Buhari!"

"Sai APC! Sai Change!" Others responded.
I had had enough. I arose and went to my bedroom. While I hadn't gone to the campaign ground, I had followed proceedings on the television. I couldn't imagine going to wait under the heat of the sun for hours, just to hear politicians repeat same old promises. My cousin and his group had left the house as early as 9 AM and Buhari hadn't arrived the ground until past one in the afternoon; I could only wonder what Kola and his friends had busied themselves with those many hours. The actual speeches hadn't spanned more than 30 minutes; there were musical interludes, of course. It was during one of these Amaechi had showcased his disgusting twisting dance steps. I had patiently awaited Buhari's speech; I saw him in a different light from the crowd that flanked him. I saw them as opportunists investing in projecting his integrity with the sole aim of reaping thereafter.

The retired general looked aged but strong as he mounted the rostrum. His dimunitive vice-presidential aspirant was beside him, all smiles as they acknowledged the excited crowd. He didn't speak for more than ten minutes. The main thing I could pick out from his heavily accented cameo was his determination to fight corruption. This was good, but I found it difficult to believe. How could he effectively fight corruption when he was surrounded by so many tainted figures? I couldn't push off a conspiracy theory that those men may snuff him out after winning the election, so they could install their stooge.

The crowd was excited by his every word; they obviously weren't of same mindset as I. It wasn't like I didn't trust his intentions, but with those men around him, I doubted his ability to implement those intentions. And with the way, some of them reechoed these words, I was sure they saw it as a mere game. For my cousin and his friends to have swallowed those words hook, line and sinker, I had to stop eavesdropping if I wouldn't burst out.

Buhari's visit was the topic of discussion for the next few days. The analysis would go for so long that I would start imagining if it was a different rally I had viewed on television. Kola was most vocal at this; and his friends seemed to hang on every of his words. They would laugh, daydream, laugh and daydream again and again.

"Even if Buhari were to win this election, I'm sure there would be little if any direct benefit to any of you."

"You are wrong, Dare, so wrong," Kola objected. "One, it isn't if because Buhari will win; secondly, I'm not in this for any direct benefit, but for the good of Nigeria. When there is electricity 24/7, when unemployed graduates are being paid 5K each, when 750000 jobs are being created every year, when foreign investors are rushing into Nigeria because of the sanitized environment, when the dollar starts exchanging at par with the naira, won't it DIRECTLY BENEFIT us all?"

To be Continued...

following

...DIRECTLY BENEFIT us all?"

I shook my head and walked away. I shouldn't have spoken in the first place. His friends were already making sneering echoes to every of his raised points. I knew when I was outnumbered.

Kola was four months older than I, and had been with us since he was two. His dad, my dad's elder brother, had just been involved in a ghastly motor accident and was hospitalized. To enable his mum concentrate on nursing him, my mum had suggested Kola was brought to live with us in the meantime. This had turned permanent, for after a series of expensive surgeries, some done outside the country, Kola's dad had eventually passed on. The surgeries had considerably drained their family resources, a factor which must have forced his mum's hand to allowing Kola live with us permanently while she raised his sister, who was still a suckling when their dad died.

Kola had grown up, a natural leader. He was extrovertish, quick tempered and friendly. So, it was no surprise that he won most arguments, fought and made up easily and always had a string of friends or followers around him. Where I would be diplomatic and neutral, Kola would be brash and opinionated. He didn't mind rolling up sleeves to settle an argument, but one would be surprised to see him laughing with same foe next day.
He was known as someone who said his mind, unlike those green snakes under green grasses, as Festus had described me one day. For this trait and his tall, athletic and muscular frame, many easily looked up to him for leadership.

Could Buhari fulfill those promises Kola had listed? Was he as morally astute as being peddled? His inability to provide his certificates was a big dent already, in my estimation, of his moral uprightness. Did Nigeria even possess sufficient resources to fulfill those promises? The argument had always been that we had more than enough, that the problem was with corruption. Yet, I doubted this; I doubted if with our budget less than the defence budget of the United States, we were actually as rich as peddled by the opposition.

The other source of my doubt was the performance of the current APC governors. I had been to a couple of their states but didn't see enough to justify their gargantuan-proportioned claims. The government of Lagos appeared to be trying, but they fell vastly short of expectation when one considered the revenue they derived internally and from the Federal government. I saw no reason why a state of so small a geographical size and so much income couldn't at least boast of sufficient motorable roads. Edo state was another, and from which I had a few friends; these friends not only decried the terrible second term performance of their governor, they followed it up with photos of neglect and decay of government institutions. Against the general mood around, I was fast losing hope in the APC project.

"Sai Buhari! Sai APC!" Kola chanted, suddenly cutting into my reverie, and my response was a long hiss.

***

My parents were neutrals (probably like me), and while my mum supported the candidacy of Buhari, my dad preferred Jonathan. What they never did was to ascribe same support to the party folds. For them, the APC was just as bad as the PDP. We were in the sitting room one evening, watching the news, when a story was aired on a PDP campaign rally in one of the Northern states. Despite the best efforts by the cameramen to capture those stands better populated, it was obviously poorly attended.

A long hiss suddenly went forth from Kola. Ignoring the eyes turned in his direction, he muttered.

"These ones think the masses are still decieved."

"What did you say?" Dad asked.

"It's these PDP people; they think the people are still decieved. We will show them at the polls that it's not business as usual."

Dad smiled and shook his head.

"What you must know, Kola, is that governance goes beyond party tags. Do you think these politicians are as concerned about party names as you are?"

...Do you think these politicians are as concerned about party names as you are?"

"Dad, they are. Tinubu has always been in the opposition..."

"A rare case. But even that, I think, is because he had always been connected to power albeit not on a national level. Do you think he won't have jumped ship had Obasanjo successfully wrested Lagos state from him?"

Kola didn't answer. I knew he was thinking of a strong counter-point.

"I don't trust that man," mum chipped in. "I don't trust those his ojukokoro eyes."

"And even Tinubu has been busy forging alliances, all in a bid to get closer to the centre," dad continued. "Boy, don't mind the different party names, they are all the same."

I couldn't agree more. And I couldn't see why an intelligent guy like Kola would think otherwise. It was a known fact that many of those in the top echelon of the APC were previously with the PDP. And more of such were defecting by the day. As far as I was concerned, they weren't swayed by the desire for service, but by the massively growing support the APC seemed to be enjoying from the masses. "They have seen the light", Abike had stated in one of their politics-centric discussions, "they are welcome to the light." What light? They had simply seen a better route to fatten their pockets.

With Kola still tongue-tied, electricity went off, throwing the entire sitting room in darkness. It was exactly what he needed.

"This is why we need change in this country; imagine that small Ghana generates more electricity than the so called Giant of Africa. The PDP has killed this country."

With heavy thuds, he stormed off the sitting room. I wondered how he managed to find his way with ease through the darkness.

***

The popularity of the PDP was obviously waning by the day; it was soon obvious that President Jonathan was fighting a losing battle. The spokesperson of the APC, Alhaji Lai Mohammed, was at his eloquent best dishing out verbal salvos in right proportions at the right time. Each of such soon became viral, further damning Jonathan's chances. The PDP's attempts to hit back were at best lame. Very few gave them a chance, fewer still believed them. A majority felt they had lost any chance at self-redemption; the argument was usually that they had sixteen years to do all the talking, now the time was no more.

My sympathy for Jonathan only led me to more isolation; some friends even stopped talking to me on that account. I didn't care; it was almost certain he would lose if he allowed the electoral body conduct the elections without interference, but this didn't stop me from giving him all my support.

They were spending too much - both parties - but it seemed like only those by the PDP got into the news. There were reports of large sums exchanging hands; even dollars. None was free. You only needed to show some form of sympathy for the PDP to be branded as having been bribed. No position was spared; from student unions to reverred traditional stools. Even top clergymen weren't left out; with every of such revelations (whether true or false), the fortunes of the PDP took a further dip.

It was obvious Jonathan was getting desperate; who wouldn't in such circumstances? I felt sorry for him. This made him apply less tact in his bid to win the elections and every such tactless acts were blown open by the opposition. It was in one of such moves he postponed the polls for two weeks. The chairman of INEC had declared the preparedness of the body to conduct the elections, but the National Security Adviser, pulling partisan strings of his office, argued that security wouldn't be provided if the polls went on as planned. To my disappointment and that of many non-partisan supporters of Jonathan, the date for the polls was shifted.

Some ground was gained, but some was lost too. The PDP had probably reckoned that the opposition would relent in their charge, as their resources would have been vastly depleted. They didn't factor in the fact that, while they controlled the Federal treasury, the opposition had the treasuries of some states under their control. It turned out that while workers in some opposition controlled states groaned about unpaid salaries, the opposition had enough money to push the campaign on. There was a sudden and powerful push against the Boko Haram within that short period, and the success recorded was amazing. While some hailed this, I couldn't help wondering why such a move had been left so late. It smirked of some mischief, as far as I was concerned; someone's advisers were obviously not at the top of their game. The APC, characteristically, turned this on the PDP. It wasn't going to help Jonathan, they affirmed, such last minute moves to decieve informed voters.

Finally, the elections held. The power of incumbency failed. While the North was declared to have massived queued behind the retired General, the South was for the incumbent. On both sides of the divide, the figure discrepancies were mind boggling; how did the APC manage to poll almost 2 million votes in Kano while the PDP, who had been in power for many years, couldn't make half a million? One could only wonder how the PDP had managed as much as 1.4 million from Rivers State while the APC, led in the state by no less a personality than the incumbent Governor, Dancing Master Amaechi, could only manage 69,238.

Lagos was a much tighter contest. I was surprised by the close match. It never appeared like the PDP could manage half as much as they did, from my isolated observatory standpoint.

While reports were filtering in, accompanied by photos of massive numbers of under-age voters in the North; and those of violence in some places in the South, Rivers particularly, President Jonathan was congratulating General Buhari on his victory.
***

***

"Sai Buhari! Sai Change!" Kola and his entourage chanted, shaking hands, pumping their fists in the air and hugging themselves as the final results were announced on radio. There was no power to watch this on television. It was inevitable; I had keenly followed the result analysis as they trickled in and knew that Jonathan had lost before the final announcement.

"It is over! PDP ti ku! Jonathan odabo O!" Remi shouted. This was an average heighted guy I disliked for his funny odour when he sweated. And he was sweating now.

"Guys, this is really victory to rejoice over," Kola announced. All eyes were turned on him. "The period of hardwork is over, now is time for celebrations."

"As in eh! Tell dem, boss, tell dem! Finally, we done get Presi when go make us proud." Festus was so excited he was unable to remain on a spot.

"Yea, a President we can be proud of!" Abike smiled and turned briefly towards my direction. I bet I saw some derisive glee in her eyes.

"She thinks I'm pained," I told my friend, Sylvester; he was one of the few Jonathan supporters I knew.

"But aren't you?" He asked.

"Maybe disappointed, but generally indifferent."

"But you would have preferred it had the pendulum swung in the other direction?"

"Definitely," I replied with a coy smile. "That's why I voted for him."

Sylvester chuckled. "You know, while I'm equally disappointed with Jonathan's loss, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off my chest."

"Really? Why is that so?"

"For long, the expectations on this man's shoulders have been great. So have the boasts by the opposition been. I think its time we allowed them try their hands at governance."

"I have been thinking along same line, too. Especially when you consider how many persons have made the APC's campaign promises sound like prophecies."

"Promises and politics aren't usually on the same page. I hope these ones will, at least, try to keep some of theirs."

Just then a knock sounded on the gate and Kola went to usher in a barrel chested young man. He was Emeka, the drinks seller two houses away. On his left shouder, with his strong right hand grabbing the handle, was a crate of beer. I knew where the financing for this had come from, Kola's coffers. Aside the regular pocket-money we received from my dad, Kola's mum sent him a monthly allowance of almost same amount. Her textiles business, into which some of her late husband's gratuity, went into, was booming of late. She had just bought a new car the month before the elections.

Kola wouldn't have dared to bring beer into the compound had my parents been in, and I had a strong mind to report him to dad when he returned from work. He was taking dad's liberality for granted. But, I changed my mind soon afterwards; I didn't want my actions misinterpreted to indicate bitterness at Jonathan's loss.
***
Kola breezed into the house the tuesday before the Presidential inauguration. He was carrying two parcels. He flung one of these at me.

"What's this?" I asked, even as I made to unwrap the parcel.

"Change is here," he replied with a wide smile. "I saw this nice shoes today and decided to get it for you too. Change is here; I decided to get my office shoes beforehand."

I thanked him profusely, though I cautioned against placing so much hope in human structures. He really believed that our jobsearch was over - now that Buhari would be at the helm of affairs. I hoped it would be so.

"That's what you don't seem to understand; Buhari isn't a politician, bro. He says what he can do."

"Maybe I agree with you, but he won't be the one to implement his good intentions."

"That's where you are getting it wrong. It is called will. The President only needs to have the will and others will fall in line or be whipped into it."

"How do you think they intend to recoup the massive funds expended on the campaigns?"

"The APC raised funds, remember?"

"Those fundraising moves by both parties were mere charades. The funds raised by the APC, for instance, wouldn't have been sufficient to fund even mere travel expenses. Where do you think the extra funds came from?" I was trying on the shoes.

"Let's not get into an argument; change is here, that's what's important."

"I hope the change is real." The shoes were a perfect fit. They had to be. I and Kola used same size.

"Anything will be better than what we're currently experiencing. Power is at its worst, fuel scarcity is raging, can Nigeria be worse than this?"

I decided not to answer. Truly, there had been fuel scarcity for a few days and it was gripping hard and causing untold hardship. This scarcity had also affected power generation, creating bad blood amongst even some former supporters of the outgoing PDP government. But, I felt this reaction was shortsighted. No previous government had provided as stable a supply of petroleum as the Jonathan administration. The only other time there had been nationwide scarcity of the product was during the subsidy protest.

Kola would find a way to counter that argument if I provided it. He had vehemently refused to be associated with even those who praised Jonathan for graciously accepting defeat, and dousing the flames of violence by congratulating his opponent even before the final result was announced.

"He was scared of the Gbagbo treatment," was Kola's take on the matter. "What else was expected of the loser?"

"But he had done same on the Osun election in which his party lost. Was he scared of the Gbagbo treatment then?"

"He is just a serial pretender, deceiving people with a false mien of meekness."

For Kola, nothing good could come out of the Goodluck Jonathan administration. This had been his stance since the ill-fated Nigeria Immigration Service recruitment. He had lost a friend, then, a friend he said was dear to his heart. For that, he swore never to forgive Jonathan.

I thanked him for the shoes and stored them in my shoes' rack. The inauguration was only three days away, I hoped the Buhari administration would live up to people's expectations.
***

"Sai Nonsense! Sai Chains!" Kola lamented as he entered the compound. He wore a vicious countenance, had the sleeves of his shirt folded and his tie slackened. "Good evening, sir," he greeted dad who was seated in the verandah.

"How are you, Kola?" Dad replied.

"I'm fine, sir."

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"How does it feel when you're 80% gone on a job recruitment process only to be told the firm is packing up and leaving the country?"

"It will feel terrible."

"That's how I feel right now; I feel terrible."

"Get calm and tell me what exactly happened," dad said, concern etched on his face.

"It's the Winconsin Builders Ltd recruitment, sir. Of eleven of us who sat for the written test, five passed. Of the five of us who were tested for our competence with the computer, three were shortlisted. I didn't want to reveal these until the processes were concluded; I wanted to make it a big surprise. The oral interviews were done two weeks ago and the HR assured all three of us of employment by the firm. We hoped to resume next week, being the first week of the new month.

"I was there today for a follow up, having not heard from them since then, only to be told that they were packing up and moving out of the country."

"What?! That's too bad. How can they justify such injustice?" Dad queried.

"It's not their fault, sir; the problem is the aimless, stiffnecked policy of the current administration. They said doing business in Nigeria has never been so unfavourable."

"So all the Nigerian members of staff are out of job now?"

"Yes, and no less than 500 persons, if we add those with the headquarters at Abuja!" Talking with dad seemed to have helped calm him a bit. The scowl was less prominent now.

"Just relax; at God's own time, not even the government can stop you."

"It is well," was all I could say as I followed him into the sitting room.

Kola went to the fridge first, drew it open and pulled out a can of water and a drinking glass. He felt the former with the back of his hand and hissed.

"So there's been no light since morning? That makes the second day now."

"It is same with fuel. The scarcity has been on for over a week."

"This isn't governance, this is anarchy. Imagine the sight that greeted me as the cab I boarded pulled into a petrol station? Two guys carrying a power generator as big as ours just because they wanted to buy fuel."
I couldn't hold back the laughter that broke forth.

"It is not funny; the filling stations are not selling to those coming with cans! They say the black marketers have been benefitting from this." He poured out some water and hastily drank it.

"Things are really bad. I still can't imagine a generator as big as ours being hefted to the filling station just because we needed fuel."

"All things are possible in Nigeria now."

"Yea, this is the era of change."

"Change, my black arse!"

I remembered those days of the campaigns; those days when Buhari could do no wrong, those days when he held the magic wand that could right all our national problems. It was just seven or eight months back, yet Kola had so lost faith that it surprised even I. I refrained from reminding him about this; I refrained from reminding him about that promise keeper with the will to change things overnight. Kola could sometimes be irrationally reactive and there was no better moment for such than now he was bitter.

"It is well," I said, rather.

"We just keep on hoping, yet the long old man keeps junkeeting from one country to the other. He doesn't even appear concerned." He went to the window and, after drawing the blinds to allow for the entrance of more air, sat on the closest sofa.

"But there are corruption cases being investigated nau." I sat on the sofa beside Kola's.

"Those things are nothing, I tell you. Who would believe that after so many months, not a single conviction would have been recorded?"

"You know there are legal bureaucratic bottlenecks usually manipulated by smart lawyers for dubious clients?"

"Don't give me that rap. Is that also what is responsible for the lopsided pattern of arrests? What about the bureaucracy involved in planning for every presidential trip? Why hasn't Buhari failed to go for any trip on account of those bottlenecks? Has he been rejecting the estacodes? Has he been rejecting the extra accruals? And look at the value of our Naira; what have they been spending in all these foreign trips? Same scarce foreign exchange! And they don't care! They don't care when businesses fold up, they don't care that graduates are roaming the streets unemployed!"
This was the kind of criticism one would have expected from a PDP supporter; not from a former ardent supporter of the APC. I allowed him vent his spleen before replying. "Change is a process and could be slow in coming..."

"This is a deliberately manipulated negative process. I wonder where we will be if this administration continues like this till the end of its tenure."

"But Lai Mohammed has said that we will soon start seeing the light. This administration met a lot of mess on ground and the budget is yet to be passed, which may be hampering the execution of their plans."

Lalasticlala

"And you believed that liar? I won't be surprised if someone came to deny that claim tomorrow. What budget has been funding those foreign trips? What budget has been funding the claimed military victories? The former budget was good enough; what remained was implementation. And these people haven't fared any better so far. Simple!"

I remembered those days Kola claimed not to desire any personal gain from the Buhari administration. "You don't seem to trust anyone in this administration?" I hoped he won't realize I was now pulling his legs. "At least, the Vice-President is a pastor under our denomination."

"Not even the dimunitive pastor! His love for deflecting faults on the previous administration is very irritating and unbecoming, and most times he fails to draw a line between embellishments which are lies and facts which are true.

"I am beginning to feel you are making fun of me?" Kola turned his gaze squarely on me.

"Not at all," I promptly denied; "maybe I'm curious, but that's all." I was lying.

"I feel so so bad; I know you don't, but that's because you were never so passionate about the prospects of this administration. They are just killing the country."

"If God doesn't kill Nigeria, no one can," I stated sincerely. "After the storm comes the calm; maybe this is our period of storm, a period in which God wants to show us the infallibility of man. I did see some prospects in this administration, but knew that those promises were easier made than accomplished.

"The problem wasn't really Jonathan, but he was the figurehead; now it isn't really Buhari, but he is the figurehead. It is a collective problem against which we are all helpless, divided. As long as opinion remains stereotyped along party lines, we can't make a headway. But when we forge a common front, devoid of party affiliations, those vested with the privilege of leadership will realize that they must sit up. There is still hope for Nigeria."

"I understand you," Kola said, arising, "but it will take some time to get over my disappointment with this administration. I must take a shower now and have a nap."

Just that moment, electricity was restored, low voltage at first then it came on full. There was shuffling of feet both within and outside the house. Just like mine, dad's phone battery was flat.

I smiled as I went about plugging the phones; the smile became even wider as I remembered the Snake-dance Master, Amaechi. It surprised me that the memory of his wierd dance steps no longer irritated me; now, I felt amused. I remembered Fashola, who used to be hailed as the face of competence in governance and his repetitively boring excuses and apologies for the intermittent power outages in the nation. I thought of Buhari and the many social media photos of the long, old man about to climb the aircraft stairs as he embarked on another foreign trip. Almost all the photos had one thing in common: this sly smile that seemed to communicate: 'I am having a hell of a good time on this seat.'

Funny guys...who needed help, if only they knew it. I knew the country was going through a rough patch, but I had the conviction it was only going to be awhile. After then, things were going to be made perfect, 'stablished and settled. There was definitely still hope for Nigeria.


********************THE END********************

***But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you. - 1 Peter 5:10*** Kingphilip, Agybabe, ritababe, Lalasticlala, Ajibolar, Missterious, Missclassy, Missmossy, Flakkydagirl...etc

so nice a composed and well articulated piece ohibenemma doesn't disappoint
thanks for sharing

Ohisbenemma, thanks for dis beautiful story. I'm afraid I've modified ur name a bit. Thanks again.