In the world of karma, anything is possible. You could be a heartless heartbreaker one day, and a bumbling politician the next. You could be a master manipulator one day, and a laughingstock the next. It’s all a matter of fate and faith, even as fate has a sick sense of humour.
Karma, that grand cosmic performance where our actions don their glittering costumes to pirouette back to us with a standing ovation of a waggish droll. Often it waltzes gleefully in the spotlight of relationships, tossing its sequined veil of randomness with all the grace of a tipsy ballerina.
Imagine that legendary heartbreaker, a Casanova with Ph.D. in hearts crushing and bursting, leaving a trail of broken hearts like confetti at a parade. Now, the cosmic slapstick strikes back with vengeance! He, the master of humanistic casualties, finds himself in a Shakespearean twist, infatuated by the bewitching regalia of accidental public servant. The man who left hearts traumatised like shattered mirrors now devotes his energies to tripping over his own shoelaces.
Enter the dazzling stage of politricks! Our pompous protagonist, driven by his longing for the pomp and power of the political circus, catapults into the lordship of Gidan Kashim. Such a leap of luck can only be rivalled by a kangaroo on steroids. There’s more! A federal ministerial post beckons like a glittering mirage in the political desert. How comes a squirrel becomes the ringmaster of a circus? By being armed with some thesaurus of self-delusion.
Less we forget. His mentor-benefactor relationship encounters a speed bump. Our protagonist, the wordsmith of verbosity, switches from admiring scribe to the commander of the Persecution Brigade, hurling linguistic grenades of epic proportions at his once revered patron, Turaki AA. The verbal fireworks put even a new year celebration to shame, painting our once upon a hero as a moral tumbleweed rolling in a desert of treachery and ingratitude.
Before you can say “tirqashi,” our ex-excellency aligns his sails with the victorious ship of Manjo Dan amarya. Oh, how the tides of fortune turn! Once a maestro of verbal annihilation, now a cheerleader of cosmic proportions. It’s as if he’s riding a rollercoaster of ethical braggadocios through a funfair of balderdash. And so, as the sun sets on the horizon of karmic justice, the ghosts of his misadventures line up for a final review at the hallow chamber. Chaaai! Come see suspense, expectation, anticipation, tension and what not. Indeed, the marvel is popcorn-worthy spectacle!
But where and how did this carnival of absurdity even begin, one may ask? Well, in the convoluted maze of Nigerian politics, a drama unfolds, complete with shadowy power players pulling strings like puppet masters at a marionette convention.
At the centre of this tragicomedy is Mr. PhD-in-waiting, I mean, Mai Hakorin ABCD the ultimate political chameleon, yearning for the elusive title of Emilokan’s right-hand minister.
But hidden beneath the veneer of officialdom lies a story of political chess masters. The Kasparovs of our time. The gang of Four. Enter Alanguburo, one; the Distinguished Allah -Kayi, two; the enigmatic Baban Jamila, three; and the ever-watchful Sarkin Dogarai, four – weaving a tapestry of intrigue that could make Shakespeare nod in approval. Whispers echo in the hallowed halls, hinting at fears that Mai Hakorin ABCD’s ascent might eclipse the ambitions of these quartet political bigwigs. A ministerial role might just be the launch pad for Mai hakorin ABCD to shoot through the stratosphere of national prominence, thus, casting shadows longer than a giraffe’s neck over the quartet’s own power games.
As petitions pile up like discarded candy wrappers at the carnival, the hallowed chamber displays a procedural hullabaloo, rivalling a Kafkaesque nightmare. Our protagonist’s attempt to address the accusations was swatted away like a mosquito at a summer picnic, making the yet to be established Ministry of Energy further out of reach. Power, gas, and electricity whirl in a bizarre ballet, and you can almost hear the clink of wine glasses as they toast to absurdity. In the midst of this chaos, Mai Hakorin ABCD sets his sights on an audience with the elusive Rankadede, hoping for a convergence of destinies. But alas, the Jagaban’s expression turns as mysterious as a magician’s disappearing act.
In the final analysis, we should all endeavour to remember this cautionary tale, this carnival of consequences for those inebriated by the potent cocktail of power. Whether they rise from obscurity to opulence only to fumble like a juggling novice, or whether karma herself stands back to chuckle heartily, there’s one thing you can always count on: life’s sense of humour is wickedly capricious. And if you’re wondering how to say “ta leko ta koma!” in Idoma language, well, consider yourself enlightened for what we have before us is a resounding “Tirqashi!!”