Master sir, master sir. There is no mass killing of any kind in Nigeria. Master sir, master sir, listen. Listen. Listeeeen. Will you let me talk, master sir? Let me talk, please Master sir. I will kneel. I will kneel, Master sir. This agbada makes it hard to kneel but I’ll kneel sir. Ehn ehn, thank you.
Firstly, Master sir, you should know we all have enemies. As you have those terrorists who are protesting on the street every day against the licensed kidnappers patrolling your street and the Hitler fanboys you have in your cabinet, Master sir, so do I have enemies. You know, those enemies of the state who just want the country to get better, no matter how dedicated we are to ruining it. Those bloody born bastards who cannot mind their father’s house. This is their handiwork, too.
See, they are here again. They are the ones screaming and won’t let me talk. Master sir, Master sir. Please keep them quiet.
You and I are similar, Master sir. You pardon friends, I pardon friends too. You are a fugitive who became a leader. I was a fugitive, too – in your land of milk and honey, no less. Your “nationalist” followers are die-hard fans; you should see mine. You are not above taking some brazen gifts and presents. Have you seen my coffers? Me and you, we are too similar.
I heard your question well enough, sir, but I am coming to it. I am coming to it. These people hate me, and even though, as a true believer, I shouldn’t say this, I hate them too. Sometimes the hatred wells up in me in the middle of the night and I can’t sleep beside my concubine – not that anything happens between us anymore anyway. These days, it’s only for the body heat, but I digress, Master sir. I digress.
These people have made life difficult for me. Ever since that, er, election that we carried out, they have made life unbearable for me. Everything I do, they complain. You would think I was ruining their lives! So what if more than 75% of them are in poverty? What if I’m spending money on cars, yachts and jets? The office I occupy is an honourable one, so I have to honour that office with honourable things. But those animals won’t understand.
What if I keep giving state contracts to my friends and family members without shame? When it reaches their turn, they should hand them over to their enemies. It is the dream of every father to have his son inherit his properties. “Your Excellency, sir” is already a part of the inheritance I’m leaving for my son. With your kind permission, Master sir, I can leave the office to him as well. Between you, me and Almighty God, he is a better ass-licker than me. He’ll lick you so good your toes will curl and your legs will shake. Promise, Master sir. Hands on my chest, promise. No, Master sir, I won’t raise the spread out palms this time. Let’s leave some things for inside the room as well.
These animals, as I was saying, Master sir, are responsible for the reports you have been getting. Massacres or genocides, nothing is happening in my country. In fact, I get so bored with the nothingness that I vacation every other month. Will I lie to you?
Yes, yes… They said they are killing some people, but I disagree. That is just the work of the opposition parties – if they still exist. We have used some cash and a little threat here and there to move some of their members, so many of them are still holding grudges.
What do you mean you receive bad news from my colony every day, Master sir? That can’t be true. Or have you been following that purveyor of bad news? That one that should have picked a tad of hobby? Powerlessness is his problem, Master sir. As long as I have your blessings and your silence, he can only yawn and yawn and cry. 4+4, Master sir.
I say again, there are no mass killings. I had an agreement with the previous elder on your seat, Master sir. Whatever happened in my colony was my business. Please let’s keep that agreement, sir. In return, your oil and other *wink wink* interests will be safe from those restive marauders.
About those burned villages, you should know it’s that devil black app they call X that is causing all these. If not to maintain appearances, I would have removed it from circulation by now. But those other ones will dig out my tweets and call me coward and dictator and tyrant and hypocrite. I can’t deal, Master sir. I can’t deal. We’ve already taken care of those media people since the day of Mr Lie. You know that man? Bàbá dáadáa.
Look at how we solve this now, Master sir. You shake your rattle, you get to appear tough, I renew my fealty (by the way of “I have served. I will be of service”), I make some fancy announcements that I should have made long ago, and my hired blackmailers will take care of the rest. We trigger the whole Muhammadans versus Jesus versus Biafra versus Oodua versus Arewa versus Middle Belt arguments, and before you know it, the buried corpses are decayed and the burned villages have finished smoking. That’s how it is done. We do some other things on a low too, but don’t ask an artist how he makes his art. Just observe and be awed, Master sir.
Please don’t block our accounts and our visas, Master sir. Bomb anywhere you want to bomb, Master, but don’t block the accounts and visas. My daughter wants to buy another mansion. My son’s campaign flags need to get printed and I’m preparing for retirement. What will benefit a man to gather politics money all his life only to lose his visa on his retirement eve? Have you been to my colony? Too many fake shit. If I can’t get original bottles of those expensive wines, I may start getting high on my product, God forbid.
So, Master sir, I may be a little older than you (‘may‘ because only God knows my age, only God), but take me as your son. Help me help you steal all you want to steal. Bomb those ones as you like. It’ll throw them in my arms ahead of the next election, and I will become the saviour I know myself to be. But don’t listen to the enemies, Master sir. Don’t take away our visas. Don’t let me join all those common maggots who die in my colony. I have served you too well for you to let me die in my colony like a mere ape. Master please. Master sir.
