Tunde Odesola; (tundeodes2003@yahoo.com)
The gods must be angry. The rain poured down with rage. Thunderclaps, lightning, scary darkness and a roaring storm frightfully drove even the strongest animals deeper into their lairs on the fateful midnight. Every mortal was indoors. Is this another end-time rain?
Despite the deafening pandemonium outside, Akanmu could hear one of the traps he set for the rats cohabiting with him and his family in their one-room shack go off, paah! Death aside, nothing else sharpens human instincts like poverty. Noah reached for his torch; he knows where everything is, the pitch darkness notwithstanding. He beamed his torch to the foot of the door, where the rodents have bored a hole, and he saw his trap upturned by two large rats with black eyes shining, long tails twining; pink, bewhiskered mouths smashed. They struggled: both rats; male and female. The end has come. Akanmu felt pity for them as he saw in their abrupt end, a reflection of his own miserable life.
Abeke, his wife, cleared her throat. But it was their son, Junior, who spoke, where he lay on the mat, “Daddy, rain is coming in.” Instantly, Abeke got up from her husband’s side on the bed. She woke Moji, their 10-year-old daughter up from the mat. Moji was deeply asleep, stretching as she struggled to get up. Abeke placed Moji on the old, iron bed and told Junior to go on the bed, too. The bed can’t take four people; but three people can snuggle in it. Abeke lay awake. So did Junior. But Moji snored away quickly.
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“Junior, you need to sleep, you’re going for a job interview in the morning,” Abeke said, tucking Moji under the sheet. “Sleep has departed from my eyes,” Junior told his mother, sitting up in bed. Akanmu wrapped a big rag in nylon and used it to block the opening from where the rainwater was coming in. Also, he felt raindrops thudding right on the floor and, he had only repaired the roof a few days ago. With practised hands, he reached for some big bowls and placed them at the spots where raindrops run in rivulets on the earthen floor.
Abeke: My lord, when are you going to get a job?
Akanmu: It’s only God who can answer that question. You know I’m not lazy, Abeke. I have a first degree and I’m currently doing my Master’s degree. If only the nation’s assembly could pay us the salary arrears they owe us, I would be able to meet my financial obligations and act like a man.
Junior: I’ve been feeling pressed, Daddy, but I can’t use the toilet because it’s overflowing with faeces.
Abeke: Sorry, Junior; it’s our leaders. They’re guilty. They’re evil. They won’t make heaven. I can’t imagine the workers of the unholy assembly being owed several salary arrears while the senators and representatives continue to receive outrageous salaries, emoluments, constituency allowances, severances packages and kickbacks. The Presidency too swims in sinful opulence while pensioners, retirees and workers cannot enjoy the sweat of their labour. When they treat people that they see daily despicably, how won’t they treat Nigerians in far-flung communities across the country worthlessly?
Junior: I saw lawmakers on TV booing the President at the Assembly yesterday…
Akanmu: Before they passed the budget four years ago, they increased it by an additional N17bn to finance their personal whims. A former finance minister said so. But because this President is not giving room for that, that’s why they’re booing him.
Abeke: There, he goes again, my husband – the Chief Press Secretary to Mr Integrity. You don’t have a job since the last three and a half years Mr Integrity became President, yet you won’t stop supporting him. Has this man charmed you?
Akanmu: Did you ever see anything wrong in the ruinous years of the Peoples Demonic Party? The ruling party is far better than the PDP.
Junior: Daddy and Mum, I’ve not seen any difference between the two parties. I had thought those lawmakers shouting like drunken monkeys would’ve criticised the budget on its merits and demerits. They were just howling like vampire bats on nuptial flight. If they had criticised the President for leaving out the burning issues of minimum wage and restructuring, the masses would’ve known that they were fighting for them. But all the hullaballoo was about their pockets and 2019. The December timeline of the budget presentation means the budget won’t be passed until May next year or thereabouts, given that it would shuttle between the assembly and the Presidency for, at least, three months. Why can’t the Presidency prepare the appropriation bill and lay it before the assembly in August? Why is this government criminally slow? Why would it take three months for the assembly to pass a bill as critical as the nation’s budget while they speedily pass bills that concern their own welfare?
When you pass a budget by May-June, how many months are left in the year? In what ways did the N7.29tn national budget of 2017 benefit the common man? What percentage of the N8.62tn 2018 budget will be spent on the political class? These are the issues, dad and mom. It’s ironic that both of you are supporting the very people that have made your lives wretched. I can’t understand.
Abeke: Tell your father the truth, my son. Tell him his Awful Peoples Congress is leading Nigeria to the land of no return. If he says the PDP is terrible, the APC too is awful. Suicide rate is climbing daily as a result of the economic hardship Nigerians are facing…
Akanmu: What do you mean? Isn’t it the PDP that ruined the economy for 16 years? Isn’t that what’s responsible for the suicides?
Abeke: What about killings by hoodlums? Didn’t you hear that the ex-CDS was killed by suspected hoodlums in Abuja last Tuesday?
Akanmu: If the billions of naira earmarked for security didn’t end up in private pockets during the reign of the PDP when the killed military chief held sway, maybe hungry, frustrated and angry youths won’t be taking revenge on the society that neglected them. Wasn’t the murdered military chief on trial for allegedly siphoning N3.97bn meant for security?
Abeke: Is that why he deserves to be killed like a dog on the road a few days to Christmas?
Akanmu: I didn’t say so, Abeke. Stop putting words into my mouth.
Abeke: I’m sorry, my husband. It’s just frustrating the ways things have been stagnant for us. Things weren’t like this five, six years ago. And the killings won’t stop.
Akanmu: Which killings? In which era was the Attorney-General and Minister of Justice killed like a rat? Who watched terrorism escalate and did nothing? Just don’t justify the unjustifiable, Abeke. It is 4:30am, the rain has abated. I must prepare to go to church. Hope you have not forgotten the anointing service titled, “The Covenant of Supernatural Wealth,” coming up by 10am today? I’m attending it. Our pastor is distributing the keys to wealth today. From the service, I’m going to our party’s ward meeting; the LG chairman is coming to distribute some potties, machetes and brooms.
Junior: These are the two things tying down your destinies, Dad and Mum – religion and politics. Your bishop who boasted recently that he is criminally wealthy should just openly defect to the PDP. He should stop hiding behind a finger. Tell him, God hates the haughty.
Akanmu: Will you stop that blasphemy, Junior!? That’s why you’ve not been able to secure employment years after graduation, despite having a first class!
Junior: Your generation is responsible for my plight and those of millions of gifted Nigerian youths wasting away across the country. Your generation belongs in hell, dad.
And the cock crowed thrice.
END
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