It was a very beautiful evening in
Suddenly, his hungry eyes caught the dustbin, outside the office complex, a few meters away from where my car was packed. He appeared so elated at his find. His face creased into an awful gesture, which he probably meant to be a smile. Then, with a quickened pace, he made for the dustbin, and began to desperately rummage in it, among its decayed, putrid, stinking contents. He seemed afraid that someone might come out to drive him away before he was through.
An idea occurred to me immediately. Nigerians ought to share this heart-rending image with me. Yes, my camera was at the backseat, I remembered. I quickly reached for it, and with a greater part of me hidden behind the windshield, I took two shots of him while he was still busy searching and collecting some items triumphantly. Then my third shot caught him as he made to move away with his booty. And within a few minutes, he went down the street and was gone.
This, too, is a Nigerian. Like you and I. Like Umar Musa Yar’Adua. Like David Mark. Like Patricia Etteh. Like Olusegun Aremu Obasanjo (the founder/father of Modern Nigeria). Like National Assembly Members. Like former State Governors. Like former ministers and Super Special Advisers. Like some Local Government Chairmen. All now incredibly wealthy after just a few years of “self-less service to the nation”!
If this hapless Nigerian had heard that houses are renovated and/or upgraded in
By the way, is Umaru Dikko reading this?
That is the reality of present day
Perhaps, this fellow voted in the last election. Perhaps, he did not. But those who are supposed to take care of him are out there in
What a nation.