THE MAN AND HIS EMPIRE

I want to remind (or probably educate) our governor, Rochas Okorocha, that empires never last; they usually self-destruct. Let him go back to history and refresh his memory- the Roman Empire,  the first and second French Empire, the German colonial Empire, the British Empire, the Japanese; these used to be forces to reckon with in their time of rule.  For any of these that still exist, they are a just a figment of what they used to be, both in resources and influences. Reason is that no man (or men) was ever created to cower under the oppression of another. Whenever he takes more than he can absorb, he rebels. Usually, it is bad for the oppressor. Aside the fact that slavery was going out of trade and a lot of people were speaking out against that evil, slave masters and plantation owners would tell you that it was getting increasingly expensive to quell slave uprisings.  The French revolution, a people's attempt to be free from social and economic oppression, would also serve to refresh his memory.

You know, Rochas got there and started suffering from amnesia. Of course, it has to be; if not how could he quickly forget how the people of Imo fought to see him become the governor? The story goes that some people refused to sleep and bathe for some three days or more to ensure that the election would not be rigged. It was an election victory that was celebrated beyond the borders of the sit. Now, he sits upon his throne and carries on with his agenda of oppression and frustration.

When he first came, he was the apple of our eyes. We believed our savior had come. He began to build roads; soon after the stories of suicides followed: Of how contractors would borrow huge sums from banks to construct roads and then our dictator would refuse to pay them. They thereafter commit suicide because the sums were much more than they could ever pay. A lot of us dismissed them as fabrications. Not long after, these same roads built by our messiah began to practically disintegrate. Now, the state of roads in Orlu and Umuguma are worse off than they used to be before Rochas began his road constructions. MCC, formerly a clean and well tarred road is now a mess. The same can be said of Weathral, Amakohia and several roads in the state before he began his road expansions. He begins to build a road, abandons it and goes to another. The road contractors begin to dig drainages along a street, they begin from a point, jump some distance, continue to dig; as such the drainages are not continuous and so water logs all the time in our drainages. Mosquito breeding is now on an outrageous level. Everywhere is dirty and stinks. It is now like the case of a mad man.

Nobody expects a messiah in a governor. However, every leader should be able to contribute their bit and make things a little better than they met it. Rochas has destroyed the beautiful and clean city we used to have. The worst is that people outside Imo assumes that we are living in heaven. I have a friend who would die defending Rochas. Yet, he lives in Abuja. How many people have the emergency response centers helped? How many people has he gainfully employed? How many roads did he build that are still in good standing? How many hospitals did he build in the different LGAs in Imo are functioning? (Can someone please educate our dictator that empty structures are never called hospitals. Buildings become hospitals when there are medical personnel, medical supplies and equipments, and all other auxiliary staff required to make a hospital run effectively.) How many skill acquisition sites built in his wife's name are functioning? How many roads, road dividers, and artificial fountains has he built and destroyed because he wants to build something else? How many structures has he built that are unused in Imo in State? If you come to IHOP, you see a lot of unused halls constructed. The Imo shopping mall that was constructed with mullions of naira lies there in waste. Our governor is busy but doing what? He is spending tax payers' money on useless constructions upon constructions. "Rochas is working."

So then, our governor in his first tenure makes education free up to tertiary level. In what part of the world is university education free? How do you fund such an unrealistic project?

A few months ago, he embarks on expanding bank road. So he breaks down the fountain falls at government house junction, breaks down all the road dividers, and breaks down all the walls of the banks along the road. Didn't he know he would expand that road before spending millions to build the fountain falls, the Douglas souvenir building that is now being destroyed by rainfall and the road dividers? Oh yes, Imo is now in the hands of a mad man who wakes up today and feels like breaking down a street, he goes ahead and does that. Tomorrow, he feels like building it and does just that. No plan, just wastes upon wastes. Now, he's done expanding the road, the traffic situation along that road is even poorer. People drive recklessly because the road is too wide and they are trying to maneuver the numerous potholes. Banks can't even put up their walls to reinstall their ATMs because the confused government who razed down their walls is asking them to pay a huge sum before reconstructing them. Is something not terribly wrong?

Why is everyone quiet? The state house of assembly members and state commissioners are just ghosts. They don't exist. We don't know if Imo state has such officers. In fact many people do not know the name of the deputy governor of the state. The voices of the Ezes (kings of autonomous communities)  of the lands have been mysteriously silenced. No one coughs. We only know our governor and the chief of staff who was formerly the commissioner for works, Uche Nwosu, the governor's son in-law. The moment he was made commissioner for works, all the C of O's in our state were revoked. So people began to pay again for properties that were already theirs. Once he was done enriching himself through that glorious project, he became the chief of staff. Praise God! And even so, each Christmas, while workers are hungry, our dictator spends hundreds of millions on street decorations and concerts. In fact, the only time I heard about the speaker of the house was sometime in the news, on YouTube actually, where I watched him shield our dictator as a Biafra protester hurled insults at him. Of course, he wasn't speaking anything as the speaker of the state house; he was doing the job of a security man. What can he say, when the dictator has sealed everyone's lips? There are no projects being done by the commissioner of works, or of education, or of youths and sports, or of any office for that matter. All we know is that "Rochas is working."

You see, we are Africans. We are people of traditions and cultures. There are markets, market days or particular structures that are symbolic to us. Thus, our dictator without consulting the community, decides to relocate an age long market to a new unfinished and swampy site, where a woman who sells pepper along the road will rent a shop from his government or  pay two million to buy it, not forgetting the numerous market levies that would be introduced. The worse part of it is that new market isn't even fully constructed and has a very serious issue of water logging. While in the keke on the Sunday morning after the demolition, a young man said that the demolished market is not in the master plan of the state and I nearly ate him alive. So what is the in the master plan? The hunger and frustration he daily causes people in this state? The potholes ridden roads? The floods? The haphazard drainages that are causing floods in this state? The indigenes who extorts from people under his watch? The continual slashing of salaries? The continual bringing down and reconstruction of structures irrelevant to people's sufferings? The comatose state of our school, legal and health systems in Imo? Which is in the master plan? This is a repeat of what took place when he began to destroy buildings last year to construct roads. We began to hear of suicide and the resultant increased crime rate. My hearts bleeds for our people.

I do not blame our sons and daughters who are still in his employ- especially the funny road contractors ( oh yes, they are funny. You need to see what they do in the name of road construction). I blame hunger and lack of employment. It's now a case survival. A contractor who haven't had a contract all year accepts to bring down people's source of livelihood or begin to construct a gutter he knows he would stop midway and thereby creating breeding sites for mosquitoes. I hail all of them as I hail the dictator. When we are asked to pray for leaders like him, I just know that prayers are wasted on him.

But just like I said earlier, let him go refresh his memory; Hitler finally went home. People get tired at some point. Empires crash. We have an Igbo proverb which says, “if one person cooks for the community, the community can finish the food but if the community cooks for one person, he can never finish the food." Let him take purgatives. People and history will serve him food one day.

scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

THE INTERVIEW

STRUGGLES OF A NIGERIAN GRADUATE (PT 6)

I looked forward to Saturday. My friend told me that the recruitment agency recruits for banks. “I was soon going to be a banker, it didn't matter how much I would be paid”, I mused. The idea of dressing up and leaving the house everyday was very appealing, I could always write at night, I told myself repeatedly. I even reminded myself of that beautiful novelist who also worked as a customer care person in my bank. In my mind, everything was worked out. About my outfit, I decided that with one look, they will be convinced that I'm the woman for the job. I asked my cousin if my red suit and blue shoes were good enough, she replied, why not? I told her that I hadn't ever seen any banker in a red suit and then decided not to bother my head with colors. My own part was to look smart.

On the eve of the interview, I went to see my sister who is a banker so she would prep me for the interview. I told her of my outfit and she laughed me to scorn. "So you want to look like a butterfly to a bank interview?" There and then I remembered to get advice from tailors if you want to know about designs, not from carpenters. We overhauled my dressing for the "occasion" and we moved on to the preps.

"You see the importance of holding on to my phone?" I reminded her

"So you prefer to be shot than to allow those cult boys take your phone?" She replied

"But I didn't die. I am alive and I would have missed the interview if there was no phone for the company to contact me." I said to her.

Some days earlier, some petty thieves accosted me and took everything I had. I had some money and valuables in my bag; they took all of that but I held on to the Nokia torch phone that I had in my hand. They beat me, dragged me and even showed me a gun but I held to that one. In my heart, I wasn't going to let go of a means of companies contacting me for interviews. They have taken those ones, I'll hold to this one. Meanwhile, some other thieves had stolen my smart phone some weeks back, so this aunty here was not going to bulge. It worked because they eventually left me with miserable piece of device they must have thought I was willing to die for. When I saw the text for the interview a few days after, I remembered that struggle and also remembered that hard work pays.

On the morning of the interview, I took my time to get ready. Everyone adviced me to be in the venue one hour earlier. For what? I asked myself. The last interview I attended, I spent my last dime on a taxi drop yet I lost the job to a lady who came late. I purposed to be there by 10:00 am on the dot, the time I was given. I arrived there by 10:00 am as I planned to see many people standing outside. I found out that we were the second set and that the first set of interviewees  were already writing the written part of the interview. I got to mix up with some of the people standing,  and  I couldn't help but notice what people were wearing. Shiny suits as a result of too much ironing. Old and discolored clothes. Really bad shoes and so on. I concluded that truly, there is hunger in the animal kingdom. I also prayed there will be enough jobs to go round.

An hour later, we were still standing and so I walked in to meet the organizers. I saw just one man with several people crowding him. I wondered how a recruitment agency will have only one staff. I tried to make an excuse for them but none was handy. I advanced towards him and finally got his attention.

"Why are we still standing after an hour? Didn't you ask us to come by ten?" He made a shabby apology and asked me to give him a little time. Ten minutes after, he came out, gave us a paper to write down our names. Whilst we were doing that, he shared some papers to all of us. That was the interview questions and we were going to answer them standing. I couldn't believe my eyes. I met him again and told him to tell those who had written to stand up for us to sit and write ours. As they did, the seats were taken and I was still standing. Seeing that I was in a place of no order, I followed him to his own office and took one of his seats, with his permission of course. I gave the questions my best shot. They were tricky but a bit simple. I turned around to see everyone copying from everyone and I knew I had just come to waste my time.

For the oral interview, I noticed people were going in in pairs. Another wonder for me. I have always known interviews to be a private discussion between the interviewers and the interviewee. I sat down and patiently waited for my turn; it was such a long wait. One of the people who went in to be interviewed came out and said he was too qualified for the job; that's what the lady interview said, he said. I feared for this unknown job and kept waiting. I noticed that people I came earlier than they did were been called to go in, time after time. Once again, I approached the staff man, the all-round employee. He apologized and told me I will be called up soon. To while away time, I began to make small talks with those around me. I turned to the guy beside me and said,

"Maybe they will give you this job. You are the only whose dressing looks like a banker's. For example, this other guy is wearing converse with a bow tie. The other is wearing a shiny shoe and his shirt is too starched. The one that beats me is this one with his very fanciful suit and his colorful tie." He laughed. The lady beside caught on our jokes and began to chip in stories of her own. "I am a teacher. I just finished youth service. What do you do?" "Well, I'm looking for a job and I finished service in 2015." "And you are looking for this job? Don't worry, God will do it for you. God will open doors for you. God..." I smiled as she prophesied. I wished her same. The guy behind me didn't have a friendly look, so I didn't bother chatting him up. Me and my goons, we gisted and gisted until my phone fell off my hand and went mute. I became really annoyed this time. I think everything caught on my anger and impatience because I was called in immediately, with the well dressed guy. I wondered if it was a coincidence or if it was intentional.

When we got in, I saw a lady on not too well arranged hair, a casual top, jeans and flip-flops. I suffered both feelings of surprise and awkwardness at same time. To spend all that effort dressing up for an interview and my interviewer would have even been cool if I were wearing my nighties. We took our seats and she began speaking to the well dressed guy, which gave me, “the well dressed lady”, room to absorb my environment. He was a bit familiar with her, so they discussed and I waited. Moments later, she turned to me and asked the usual questions.

"Tell me about yourself."

"My name is....I am this and that... I have done this and that..."

"Well, from your experiences you will be a good marketer."

"Ma, I've sold a number of things in my life and I've helped to raise funds for the foundations I have volunteered for but I do not want to do bank marketing. I just can't do it."

She spent another ten minutes lecturing on me on how well suited I was for the job. As she spoke, I wondered if this was still an interview or a motivation class. When she was finally done, she told me to go meet her secretary/receptionist/assistant who will further instruct me. He gave me a 10 pages form to fill, accompanied by various certificates that would require me traveling to the moon to get some of them, and medical examinations and guarantor's detail, and so really much more. He ended with, "we will contact you when the companies are ready to interview you."

"So, what did we come here to do today?" a flabbergasted me asked

 "We invited you so we could match your skills and passion with a job opportunity."

 Match skills and passions indeed, I said to myself. I went home exhausted. The following Monday, I received the same text, for the same time, for another interview. 

THE RANGE ROVER MAN AND HIS LADY

THE STRUGGLES OF A NIGERIAN GRADUATE (PT 5)

I heard the voice of a panting man behind me and I turned around to know whose it was because it sounded so close. My eyes met the face of a man with a lot of scars. He had this rough look. I fixed my eyes at his to know his reason for running after me. He goes,

"My driver and I have been calling you. You refused to answer us. Why? "

I had this look crazy look on my face. I call it crazy for lack of no better word to use, and because it got people looking at the man and I. He reiterated,

"I said my driver and I have been calling you from the range rover packed over there, but you refused to answer us."

I still had the crazy look on my face. I was trying to make a meaning of the situation while I had my eyes on his eyes. Then the range rover man said,

"You look scared. Why?"

I practically lashed out at him.

"Oga, I don't understand what is going on and what is it you want from me." He smiled at me patronizingly and replied, “This girl, you are too scared oo. Anyway, my name is Ebuka, I live in Port Harcourt but I just came into Owerri. I work with Shell. Have you been to my office before?"

I concluded that either the guy was mad or my senses were raving. Anyway, at the mention of Shell, I looked at his shoes. They were old and the color was fading- he hadn't smelt the perfume of the security men who work Shell his entire  life; I deduced that myself.

I think the crazy on my face increased because people were almost stopping to know what was transpiring between me and the range rover man. I looked at him and calmly asked, "so what do you want from me?"

"I came into town to inspect the hostel they are building for me. Let's go into my car. I don't want kidnappers to kidnap me. I've been kidnapped in Owerri before."

"I'm going to church. I can't go to your car."

"You will go to church in Jesus name. Let's get into my car and we can drive to anywhere. Hurry, I'm conscious of kidnappers." By this time, I was getting choked by the lies.

"Oga, did you hear me? I said I'm going to church and I'm going now and I'm not going into your car."

He smiled and asked me, "Are you married?" Where are you from?"

"No, I am from Imo State."

As I made to walk away from obviously a time wasting activity, he asked for my number. He had his phones in hands, none of them a smart phone. I asked him to type mine into his phone. He insisted that I bring out my phone, give to him so he would type his number into my phone. He said, "I want you to flash me when you get home." I looked at him again and tried to imagine what sick game he was playing this time since the first hadn’t worked. He finally agreed to type mine on his phone. As I walked away, I couldn't help asking myself over and over again, "what is wrong with men?" Is that part of the revised curriculum on how to get us girls?

 For the record, I didn't see any range rover.