Chief Kosoro nodded in approval. He felt defeated and humiliated. Alex had won an overwhelming victory, and Ifemekunu was clearly no longer his turf. He wondered how it was that an upstart like Alex could strip him of all the popularity he enjoyed among the people.
‘I will bring him down’, he vowed. ‘He will fall so hard he will never rise again’.
‘It is at the nursery stage that we start pruning an Iroko tree; when it is fully matured, it will begin to demand sacrifices’. It was his campaign manager, Tiri Kolajo.
Tiri left behind a reputable career as headmaster of Ifemekunu Grammar school. He believed so much in Chief Kosoro’s vision. As he looked out through the window and saw Alex waving to the crowd and savouring the moment, anger welled up inside him.
‘He hasn’t changed much’, He observed. ‘He always got into one argument or the other with his teachers. I enabled him back then. Now he feels he is a god’.
‘Four years is a long time, Tiri. That is why I don’t want to wait till the next elections. Our people must see their mistake very quickly’.
‘Patience, Chief. Patience. The bridegroom does not peep over the wall to catch a glimpse of the bride. Leave everything to me. You will be pleasantly amazed at the future that unfolds. Matthew, let’s go’
Chief Kosoro held up his hand in a gesture of farewell. His forehead creased into deep furrows. He couldn’t bear to look out through the window. He stood at one edge of the window and pulled the curtains together. He heaved a sigh, banged his fists on the table and paced. He trusted Tiri to deliver on his promise.
‘When kids come across herbs, they call them vegetables’.
He grinned and burst out in sardonic laughter
By Victor Olayemi