POLL CLOWNS

When he stepped out into the streets, they converged around him like Vultures swooping over their prey. The sun had sunk into the horizon an hour earlier; but the women kept vigil by the Senatorial Seat – seeking out-going Governor. If he could not perform in eight years, what exactly was he going to the National Assembly for? I wondered to myself.

After hours under the sun, they stayed, and were now pouring accolades on this politician who cared less for their well being. The Governorship primaries scheduled during the day, and for which school children were told to stay home, had been cancelled. The overblown budget, weeks of planning and manpower went to waste because the leadership of the party was prevailed upon, for whatever selfish agenda, by a faceless cabal.

The plight of the people, a section of which have elected to become unpaid praise singers, and who cued, to cast their votes, in a process that was anything but free and fair, meant nothing, like every other policy that did not put money in the fat bellies of these corrupt political clowns.

In my head, the question ‘how much’ resounded. He danced as they sang for him, occasionally spraying currency notes, the same notes meant for the upkeep of the people he was supposed to represent. They danced with him.  Many broke their rhythm to clamor for notes falling to their feet.

Walking home, I wondered about the state of poverty in the land. Sad that these women like many before them had spent their whole day for very little. If this isn’t the era of suffering, then what do I know. Fear crept into my heart as I glanced backwards to observe for a few more seconds.

Terna Ortese

October 10, 2018©