“Nwakwe for president!” The stout musician said loudly as part of his performance for the Nigeria’s Democratic Party presidential campaign in Abia State. Nwakwe nodded his head slowly, like he was intoxicated by the song, and indeed he was. He didn’t care if the song was monotonous and boring, or whether it was interesting; all he cared was that more of these greedy musicians joined his rally and with it, came more fame.
But today’s song was different. Nwakwe couldn’t tell whether it was boring or not. All he knew was that it reminded him of his past. It reminded him of how he had dreamed of becoming the country’s president, and how for a moment he thought the dream was merely fantasies when he refused to accept bribe as the then finance minister and was sacked – his political ambitions gone, together with the sack. That was almost ten years ago but ever since, he had become wiser. He managed to become the local government chairman and when the opportunity presented itself again, he did not flinch a bit. He collected bribes, and killed whoever stood on his way.
Nwakwe’s phone rang suddenly.
“Hello,” a voice said at the other end.
“Kedu Chijioke. I hope your men are ready?”
“Yes sir, there is no problem. It’s just like we agreed. As soon as Collabo finishes his performance, we will move into action.”
“Very good. Make sure there are no mistakes. I want everything to be clean. As soon as you are done, contact Black Mamba, the MEND leader. Tell him to take responsibility and say it was Rilwan that sent him. Understood?”
“No more contacts. I will be the one contacting you from now on.”
Nwakwe smiled again as the line went off, the same impish smile as before, only that this time, he knew he was closer to his dream. Soon the entire country would think Danfodio tried to kill him and it would make them love him more and hate Danfodio.
Collabo had finished his performance by shouting Nwakwe’s name 21 times, which sent the entire crowd into a rapturous state. He was about stepping down, when Nwakwe’s phone rang again.
I thought I said no more contacts? Nwakwe thought, as he brought out his phone from his breast pocket. He was shocked to find out it was his wife.
“Hello my beautiful wife,” he answered.
“Ha my husband! How are you?” Nwakwe’s wife sounded excited.
“Where are you?” Nwakwe asked. There was a lot of noise at the background.
“I’m at your rally. I can see you clearly.”
“Ra what!” Nwakwe screamed, standing up. What was she doing at his rally? She was supposed to be at the hotel. Why didn’t she even tell him she was coming?
“Your own rally, my husband. I’m also with Dede and Dimba,” Nwakwe’s wife said.
“What! You’re also with my only son and brother. What wing are you?”
Nwakwe’s heart skipped a beat. That was the exact wing that Chijioke was going to set off the bomb. He looked at the stage. Collabo had finally finished and was now about stepping down. It was all happening too fast. What was he to do now?
“Get out of there! Fast!” He screamed, but the line was dead. Ada had cut the phone. He was about to dial Chijioke’s number when he heard a loud sound, and then screams, and then smoke, and fire. It all happened in the blink of an eye.