THE GENERAL’S DAUGHTER
Are you a serving senator, governor currently looting the treasury? You may not be caught by the EFCC but you cannot escape meeting your doom in your sons and daughters. Does anyone know any of these treasury looter’s children that is well behaved? Their homes stink to hell, but you cannot know, when they sit at high tables giving senseless admonitions and pretending to be men of character. I would rather drink garri and dried fish in a happy home than pop champagne in a home reeking of hard drugs, drunkenness and the disgrace of the grey head.
Oil belongs to the Niger Delta and so does the misery but it is in Abuja you find the good life. The General had instructed his bank manager to put only mint currency in the customised ATM in his mansion, but the men behind the counter disobeyed the big man and put dirty naira notes. Going to a ‘parry’, the General’s daughter needed some 20000 and what tragedy when she inserted her customised card! Dirty notes! Incensed and taking no second look at the notes scattered on the floor, she raced to her apartment in the mansion, grabbed the nearest keys and fired her way to the bank at breakneck speed in the sleek and brand new SUV, blowing dust and reaping curses from shocked co-users of the road.
‘Are you the f…king hopeless bank workers who cannot carry out my dad’s simple instruction to put only new notes in our ATM?’ she cried as she entered the hall. Are you so senseless and hopeless that you can’t obey a simple instruction? Somebody tell me what kind of f…king nonsense is this? In no time, the manager was on the floor and profusely apologising to the lady of good fortune, berating his men for the swipe at his job. ‘Do you want me to lose my job?’ he cried, eyes bloodshot.
However, the lady was not appeased. She placed a call to her dad, the General, detailing her embarrassment and how mean the bank workers were when she went there to lodge a simple, honest complaint laden with decorum. In less than five hours, the bank manager was out of job, and the next morning found him on a flight to the world’s third worst city, seeking men who would join him in the life and death return to the FCT, to appeal to the great General to temper justice with mercy.
At the general’s home in the FCT, the big man was meeting with a foreign delegation, so the guests were ushered into another section of the mansion. No furniture, not even a local stool too sit on, and some of the peacemakers began to grumble. In the midst of this, a boy entered, saying ‘ I’ve been asked to set the sitting room for you sirs’ . Then he punched a button- like you would switch on your video player. Pronto, a set of furniture emerged- one of the bankers was crying ‘blood of Jesus’ vowing that he would not sit on the wonder furniture. But later our men took courage and sat down jejely and their bottoms felt comfortable.
Then the room setter said ‘gentlemen, look behind you’. Turning they saw words splashed across a giant screen. ‘Each of these words you see is the name of a wine. Please choose your choice by pressing the screen.’ One bold man did but the errant manager said no wine would appear that he didn’t believe that such a thing could happen. The bold man pressed the screen 11times in different places. In just about 4minutes, a trolley appeared with 11 brands of exotic wine. They later discovered that the cheapest of the wines cost just 78000.
Is the General angry at the expose of his world? The general is not from the Niger Delta. No, he doesn’t eat poison in his fish. The people who do, those who own the land, remain largely consigned to the margins of existence, betrayed by local lords and foreign economic desperadoes.
As I write, the dirty notes probably remain before the befuddled ATM at our General’s home. Now his daughter is a gem, spoilt silly by stinking wealth. Has she learnt to pound yam? Probably not. When she gets married, I suppose, a robot would pound the yam. Is she a great woman who cannot make egusi soup?, who is only an expert in cooking noodles, smoking marijuana and drinking the world’s very best wine?
Well, that general luxury is lacking in the Nigerian climate but spoilt brats of the general’s brood live life to the fullest. How many Nigerians mind having 5million in dirty notes? Mint is the colour of wealth, wealth of a sad end. He will go to his grave in tears.
Abiodun Awolaja is on the political desk of the Nigerian Tribune