You have been made an SA to the Governor. What that means you hardly know and don’t even care, but you are sure it entails a monthly/weekly stipend, a house and a car from the Government House, and of course, other miscellaneous which should include a plethora of UNICAL and CRUTECH girls to quench your raging libido.
The appointment you are sure means weekly trips to Europe, the Americas and Asia for fun. Most importantly, you see it as the light in this cruel, dark, lonely tunnel called your life. “I have finally arrived” you said to yourself. Where you have arrived in you would soon find out.
You were later to discover the Harmattan wind travels faster than the Governor’s motorcade, because upon getting to Okpoma your hometown for Christmas celebration, the red carpet has been laid waiting for your arrival. All age grades and youth organizations in your village who were waiting came out to welcome you.
Church groups made sure they were not out shined by the traditionalists as all the pastors in your village made their way to the 2 room compound your father has built, a compound he expects you to transform into an estate within the shortest possible time.
Your naive village see you as their new found oil deposit and you encourage them; in both your words and in deeds. Like your principal the Governor, you go around making promises you are not in a position to keep.
“I will use my influence in government to make sure the Mbok to Ogoja road that has been abandoned by the successive regimes of Donald Duke and Liyel Imoke is repaired within my 60 days in office, and also provide employment for more than 1000 of our youths.” you said in an accent those from Yahe and Ebo will have problem understanding.
Like the true appointee/disciple of the Governor you reel out big, heavy words that possibly got lost on their way to dictionary land amidst wild cheers from your villagers.
Elders prostrate before you, market women make you the topic of their idle gossip, young girls grin with virgin innocence at your presence and young men chant your name when you pass. You are now a God, at least that was what you thought until that Sunday morning in Church.
A thanksgiving service has been organised for you in the Church to thank God for the appointment. In truth, you are thanking God that he has at least greased your fingers which without ceasing threw insults at all and any, who dared to say anything about the then governorship aspirant. You are thanking God that he has not allowed your 1000 naira Glo BIS which you were using on your tweaked worn out android phone to go to waste.
Only you(and those you insulted) know of those nights you spent scanning facebook, twitter, 2go, Badoo, Instagram, Nairaland, CrossRiverWatch sometimes mistakenly landing on online dating sites hunting every and/or any person who breaths anything against the governorship aspirant of the party you support. Oh! How God rewards a fast typing finger!
It was time for you to make your speech and the pastor decided to ask you a question. The question came as a surprise as you had never anticipated it for once.
He had asked “Please bro SA, what is your job specification and how much will you be contributing to our church building project? The devil must be using this pastor you said within yourself as the overflowing church muted in anticipation for your answers.
“To be honest er er er er” you stammered. “I don’t know what I am to be doing for the Governor or what my position is or what I will be earning. The Governor only sent me a message on Facebook notifying me of the appointment and nothing else”. The church became more silent as everybody began to go home.
Ogar Monday is Reporter with CrossRiverWatch (Ogarmonday15@gmail.com)
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