Natahsha’s apoti is not godswill for Apkabio

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, March 14, 2025)

The darkness was so heavy you could touch it. ’Twas so thick it could stain. Sinister and choking, the darkness screened off the sky and its moonlight. Without thunderclap nor lightning daze, rain poured down on the night of long knives.

Suddenly, a violent wind arose amid the footfalls of fleeing bandits, who slung huge sacks of stuffed ballot boxes over their shoulders like Father Christmas slings his sack of gifts.

“Ole! Ole! Ole! Thief! Thief! Thief! The pursuing citizens shouted. The vote robbers neither stopped nor looked back en route to their chamber, deriving inspiration from the proverb of perseverance that says, “When the egúngún is in pursuit, the pursued is advised not to stop because as fleeing humans tire out, so is the pursuing egúngún tiring out.”

One after the other, the bandits jumped into their fortress through the doors, windows and ceiling, slamming the doors, windows and attic shut before the masses could close in. Ruthless and rapacious, the bandits caught their breath like lions do after an arduous kill. Wow! That was a close shave!

Once the robbers ran into their Abuja fortress, the pursuers stopped and backed off, knowing full well the fortress was guarded by gunmen and the Constitution.

The rain continued to pour down in torrents. No owls hooted, no crickets chirped, no dogs barked, only darkness loomed. The Official Manservant of the bandits is called Mr Clerk. He pressed a button on his table, and the whole chamber came alive in full red colour.

Now, everyone is seated in their respective seat; their faces shone with sweat, rain and blood stains, each beaming with smiles and a sense of accomplishment. Handshakes, backslaps and bear hugs with cackles of laughter shook the chamber.

Apkabio is the leader of the hunting pack. He banged his gavel for attention and said in his peculiar accent, “Distinguished ladies and yentlemen, I, hereby, grant Mr Clerk the permiyon to address and pray for us. Please, let’s pay attenyon because it is my intenyon for our victory celebrayon to progress till the morning hours. We deserve to party and enjoy ourselves, ladies and yentlemen.”

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Clerk: Let us pray. We’re grateful that it pleases the Lord Almighty to give our returning members sweet victory in their respective elections. Though the election battle was snatch and bolt, rip and run, the Lord gives victory to whom He loves…(Speaks in tongues: El shsasba prokorotori matayakata!). Father Lord, we pray that you be the guide and guard of Your children as they embark on their four-year legislative duties to their fatherland in Jesus’ mighty name!

Chorus: Amen!!!

An imam, whose tasbih (rosary) was longer than the intestines of a cow, was also on hand to pray for the brood of vipers. His turban was bigger than a parachute.

Apkabio: (Continuing in his funny accent) Mbon mmi, my own election was war! I didn’t participate in my party’s primaries, but I grabbed the ticket after I stuffed Supreme judges’ wigs, gowns and mouths with dollars. Okuk atan iko – money speaking. Money na water.

Fellow bandits hail Apkabio: After God na you!

Apkabio: No! No! No oooo! Make una no put me for wahala o. Yagaban na my oka (oga) o. I no near Yagaban a-roll a-roll (at all, at all) o.

Bandits: Hahahahahahahha. Na you, biko!

Apkabio: Where’s Honourable Natahsha? I can see a few honourables didn’t jump in through the doors and windows. Mr Clerk, please, tell Honourable Natahsha to see me in my private residence asap; there’s an urgent national assignment for her in my bedroom.

Clerk: Sir, Honourable Natahsha dropped a petition about the arrangement of the chamber.

Apkabio: Tell her I’ll do anything she wants, whenever and wherever she’s ready to tickle my fancy. She can have anything in this chamber, including my humble self. Who am I but a mere servant, ready to sow and reap in lush vineyards? Uwem enem – life’s sweet o.

The gang bursts out laughing.

Clerk: I’ll let her know, Your Honour, sir.

The gang partied late into the night, blasting Olu Maintain’s hit, Yahoozee; Kelly Hansome’s Maga Don Pay, and Living Things by 9ice, among other crematorium songs.

(Inside Apkabio house, domestic staff engage in gossip)

Gardener: (Singing African China song) …Mr President, lead us well; If you bi governor, govern us well; If you bi senator, senate am well; If you bi police, police well well, no dey take bribe…

Maid: Akpan, if oga or madam hear di song you dey sing, just know say your work for dis house don finish. Both of dem dey para now o.

Cook: Ekaette, wetin you mean? Why dem dey para nah?

Maid: Udoh and Akpan! Una no hear wetin dey happen!? Di yellow canary wey oga tink say im catch with im bowler hat for inside chamber, by the time oga put im hand inside the hat, oga no grab canary o, na shit oga grab! And the bird don dey sing to fellow Nigerians since!

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Gardener: Ha, Ekaette, na wa o. E bi like say dem take women swear for oga. Which kain insult oga never see on top woman matter? Dem don tear oga singlet, beat am, spit on am.. Haba! Shey na di route wey oga follow come dis world im wan follow go ni?

Driver: No bi today nah. You sabi how many earrings and nails wey I don pack while cleaning oga limousines? I no go tell una other extracurricular items wey I don sweep comot from inside oga limousines. Shey una see dat oga head wey bi like Abiku head, na only women and how to thief money full am.

Cook: You mean say oga dey do on motion?

Driver: Oga na ‘Everywhere You Go Turaya’, e dey active on land, air and sea. But dis Apoti wey oga go siddon on top don burn oga yansh, oga no fit siddon again. Apoti na wetin Yoruba dey call small wooden seat. Igbo people dey call am ‘obere oche’. Hausa dey call am ‘keremin kujira’. Dis apoti hot pass furnace.

(Vehicle horns blare. People talk outside the gates, raining curses on Natahsha and singing the praise of Apkabio)

Maid: Protesters don come collect money – human rights activists, police, students, labour, journalists, traders, lawyers, town unions, etc. Oga don spend real money on top dis skirt and blouse matter o.

Cook: Hey, look! See oga’s chief of staff don dey come downstairs; make e no meet us here o. O ya, o ya, make everybody disappear. Me, I never obtain Yankee visa, I dey waka go boys’ quarters o.

(Domestic staff disperse quickly)

The next day, Apkabio locked himself inside his room. He was greatly disturbed because the Yellow Canary wouldn’t stop singing. In fact, she has taken her song beyond the compromised courts in the land, to an international tribunal, where she’s singing on the top of her voice. Sweat broke on Apkabio brow.

He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head. He opened his mouth, but no word came out. He cleared his throat and tried again to talk, yet there was no word. He slumped on his bed and wept.

Apkabio drifted into a dream. In the dream, Apoti pummels and drags him to the edge of a cliff and pushes him off, he shouts and jerks awake, panting, sweating and cursing.

Outside the room, Mrs Apkabio hears her husband’s shout. She rushes in. “Ha, my lord, why are you shouting and sweating like this?” she asked. “It’s that witch o, that ashewo girl. She pushed me from a cliff, but Mama Bourdillon grabbed me before I nack head for wall,” he replied.

“Blood of Jesus! This will pass, my husband. I’ve mobilised serving and retired female and male crooks, and they’ve been singing your praise. I recruited Itu Iya Ita in Calabar and a former Lagos Minister who has fallen on bad times. I also recruited a member of a family reputed for betraying,” she said. “Thank you,” Apkabio replied.

Mrs Apkabio: But you sef, why you no dey take eye see anything in skirt?

Apkabio: Na my enemies use women curse me, I swear.

Mrs Apkabio: See your mouth, he-goat! Abeg, I’m going downstairs to pay some leaders of Niger Delta militants who have been helping us threaten to cause wahala if you’re removed.

Apkabio: Thank you. I’ll never chase anything in a skirt again.

Mrs Apkabio: What if she no wear skirt?

(Both burst out laughing as the wife exits)

All alone, Apkabio goes back to the mirror and looks at himself; a one-horn, one-eyed principality stares back at him. Then, his inner mind spoke: “Apkabio, you’re a disgrace! You stole your way into the House. But instead of repenting from your old ways, you refused. What legacy do you intend to bequeath? A professor who rigged an election for you was jailed. You head a House of criminals, some of whose members are wanted for international crimes in the US and Europe. A current member of the hound is still in prison abroad. Apkabio, look at your life!

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

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Natahsha’s apoti is not godswill for Apkabio