By Winston LEBGA
After several years of being gypped by the ruling elite, the governed, this side of eternity where the Mungo meanders have begun seeing clearly that this is indeed a dystopian society. Take the young men and women for example, many keep dreaming dreams and the job market is not for the meek. So, those who are connected to power brokers who can pull the strings of some puppet in the corridors of power are the chosen ones.
They are the ones who get admission into what is considered the choice professional schools or get the available civil service jobs. But, how many care about professional ethics, and how many show compassion? They seem to have discovered the social media, and would flash their smart phones at any moment to capture a scene with only their uproarious party in mind.
Who cares whether they are taking a snapshot of a rape victim groaning in the throes of agony or videotaping a murder scene, a surgical intervention or an accident? Imagine nurses in a hospital filming a patient who happens to be a student who had allegedly been stabbed by a classmate and who later on passed away. Who recruited such nincompoops whose real qualification for the job is who they know and not what they know? And who can blame the worms for digesting the s**t?
Remember, the Bohemian likes to hang around the gossipy unemployed bellicose and belligerent youth who are full of bogus dreams of becoming billionaires before 2035, so that they can spend their billions in an industrialized country called Cameroon. Dream! Dream! Dream! Over several drinks the gregarious Bohemian exchanged gossip and memories and wicked pleasantries to avoid being considered an interloper. One of the young women, popularly called ‘Bullet’ for her sharp tongue started talking about what she called the might of people power and the right to speak truth to power.
‘African peoples are no longer dormant, See?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ D. O inquired. He dropped out of school in his final year of a degree programme in History saying there was no hope for him in dystopia. So, his peers fondly called him Uni D.O short for University dropout or simply D.O. To the group it was a term of endearment.
‘I’ll give you a few examples to buttress my point’
‘I’m all ears’
‘Well, many years ago the peoples would silently bear their pain as the leaders shamelessly flaunted ill-gotten wealth, turning the constitution into a doormat on which they could wipe off their messy stuff that got stuck to their rubber soles…’
‘Yeah, Tunisia chased away Ben Ali.’ D.O agreed.
‘Zimbabwe’s army caged Mugabe and now people power in Algeria has forced out Bouteflika who has been in a vegetative state for quite some time now…’ Bullet continued.
‘That’s absolute rubbish, things are under control here, and the situation is improving.’ O.T interjected. They called him O. T because he is said to be regularly off topic whenever the bellicose crowd indulged their passion for quarrelling by embarking on heated discussions.
After listening to the rantings of the leaders of tomorrow about Algeria, Tunisia, Zimbabwe and about people power and speaking truth to power to the point of throwing punches, I the Bohemian of Abakwa born of the sea goddess and the sun god on the last day of the month, by the shores of the Atlantic in the land of the proud people this day declare: even in the tangled web of local politics, we must understand that when the people are in one accord, no rogue government no matter how ruthless can beat them to submission. It’s time for the rapacious ringleaders in suits and agbada to put the roses back in the cheeks of the fatherland. And lest I forget brethren, do not minimize the power of the people. And, seemingly intractable problems can be solved when someone else looks at them and for, here on earth, people power is in actuality the super divine power.