My son’s image looms large as I watch the political campaign on my black and white TV. Sadly, I do not feel my allegiance to him is strong enough to risk empowering him in such a manner.


You see, I come from a long line of great and politically inclined men, who regally stride where lesser mortals dare not tread.

History has it that my great grandfather pioneered a series of bloody revolts that dethroned an autocratic king in the then

Egbaland. My grandfather led an anti-colonial protest which escalated into an uncontrollable unrest. The scoundrels whom he gathered to himself felt the peaceful route was a waste of time. They can be credited for a series of lootings and destruction of British cargoes and ships at that time.


   My father, for whom I have the highest regard, even if my next statement does not affirm so, was a scoundrel of the highest proportions. He was a bank clerk who rose to the pinnacles of power as a financier, but did little or no credit to the already mangled family name. He lived up to the expectations of ‘greatness’ however, as there was never any public officer of his time who commanded such liberties and authority as he.

      


      You see, an understanding of this issue with my family is subject to your definition of the word ‘great’.

The gene of greatness must have skipped a generation however, for I do not have the means or the influence of name which my predecessors commanded. I am a man of lean and simple means. As a pensioner having retired from an organization of no reputable name, I live in a bungalow for which I still pay annually. What I have lacked in strength, wealth, and influence however, I have found in my very own son....

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