By: Abdullahi Jimoh
Act I, Scene I
At about 3:00 a.m., just before dawn on Wednesday, 15th of March, 2023, a chocolate-coloured old man, with a bald head, deserted beard and moustache, baggy face and fading eyes, stretches on his bed made of gold in his well-furnished master bedroom and begins a sleep talk that lasts for two hours. The white blanket that shields half of his body before now folds out over his uncontrolled stretch.
Hmm. I know I’m more reserved than many people thought. I laboured all my years to play the role of a barman in the beer parlour of politics. I served the dark one, the light, even the short and tall, not leaving out the slim and the lardy, making them all eat to their satisfaction because I know where I was heading. Thankfully, I had enough resources to play the long game, from my pill-pushing and other businesses.
I’m a big player in this game. Many years back, that renowned tyrant and head of state wanted to get rid of me, but I ran into exile along with many other people to dodge his bullet. He used to feed on blood. The moment the news of his death hit the air, I returned to my father’s land. This time, I came back to lie to people to cast their votes and get me the power I wanted.
Fortunately, I secured the post and stayed the maximum number of years the constitution allowed. Then, I threw in a left-handed man to move on from where I stopped. Whether people enjoyed my time or not, I don’t care.
I know that that left-handed man I helped in is a radical and revolutionist. It makes me proud when people hail him. I can boast that he used the template I built.
He copied me to spend the maximum number of years permissible. Then, I still coopted another rotund man to have his own taste of the wine. But he fucked up! After the first term, I flogged him out so he could not sniff the seat for another four years. After that, I handed it over to a chess-lover. He is a good man and a loyalist who pays his dues regularly.
Hurrr. (He yawns again before sleeping off around 5:00 a.m.)
Act I, Scene II
Another sleep talk popped up on Saturday, April 15, 2023. He began this one by 2:30 a.m. and ended by 3:00 a.m. He stretches to the edge of the bed to start the monologue.
They didn’t want me, but I declined. Lately, I’ve been observing the state of things secretly because of my ambition to get into that powerful house. Is it for a single tribe? Am I a fool for transferring a post meant for me to a short, dark, Christian lawyer when he asked me to nominate someone I know? Because, initially, he wanted me to be his surrogate. That lawyer later fuck up for antagonising me, but I showed him that I’m his father in this business.
I was not a fool. But I regret helping him. If not for that jester and dramatic fairly light man from the South-South and that tall huge man in the South West and many helpers, I nearly lost that seat to one of the two men. One of them his origin is not known; the second one used to say he got his advice from a madman. Even if they complain about my policy, I won’t listen. I already have my people who will understand my language as my cabinet members because they are my party men. I’m all right.
Faaaaa. (He farts.) Hurrr. (He yawns and sleeps off.)