There is fire on the mountain and even Zeus in all of his celestial powers is restless. Governor Bazoki gets up from his magnificent bed and heads for the toilet. He does not want to defecate. The toilet is like the only place in his big house that affords him the sagacity of thinking logically. The words of Baba Gida kept echoing in his mind like some distant list of murders.
The elections are two months away and things don’t look too good. In fact all looks bleak and disastrous right now. He stares at the bulb on the white ceiling as if its illumination will bring about some clarity into the darkness that shrouds his heart. He cannot lose this election. The party leadership has told him to do everything in his power to win reelection. To lose this election to a boy his eldest son’s age will be an enormous embarrassment. But Kaba is leading the polls that were recently released by the Peterson’s Electoral Observation Agency. He lost the last two debates to Kaba. He refused to attend the third one! He has done everything possible to bring that bastard down but the man still stands as a stubborn Iroko tree.
Baba Gida’s words difficult as they may be in his mouth looks like the only solution to winning reelection. He left the toilet and takes the well rugged stairs to his study. He picks a book to read but his body and soul is not in alignment right now. “Fuck” he muttered under his breath. He took out a bottle of vodka and pours himself a reasonable fill and gulps everything down.
He looks at his slush study with the Persian rug and all of the opulence that it smells of. He remembered how he an ordinary thug from the slums rose to the position of a state Governor. He remembered all the fights on the streets and the constant slaps of poverty and how he never gave up on his dreams. First he rose in the ranks of the motor parks’ thugs which brought him huge popularity. He mustered enough confidence and ran for office of the governor. Nobody thought he could make it. Now they are all beggars at his adorned feet. His story is an impossible one. But in this state anything is possible—first for the thief then followed by the honest man.
Now this bastard opponent of his is about to tear all that he has racked up over the years into rubble. It is impossible. This was why he traveled to Ijebu Ode to meet Baba Gida for help. Baba Gida lives in the thick forest of Ebgawaku and only the fearless get to see him. He reflected on Baba Gida’s words again.
“Baba Gida, can’t the oracle ask me to do something else? The second part of getting the human head is fine with me but the first has a lot of weight on it!”
“Mere mortals have no right to question the gods. You will carry out the two missions and you will be reelected at the polls. Bring the bald head to me on the fourth night. Send your boys to get it. Give this egg to them and when they find him let them break it on his head. When they get it make sure you wrap it in this red cloth. Bring it on the fourth night after you have performed the first mission.” Baba offered him an egg wrapped in a red cloth and also a piece of red cloth about a yard in size.
Baba Gida continued “on the third night you must go inside your mother’s room and sleep with her!” Under the powerful air conditional in his study he felt a sudden hotness wash over him at those words from Baba Gida. He drank more vodka.
To sleep with his own mother is a straight ticket to hell. Maybe that’s where he belongs after all the evils that he has done in his life. But the thought of that bastard Kaba possibly winning the election churns his intestines.
“Baba Gida there must be something else we can do. Please speak to the gods again.”
Baba Gida looked at him with the eyes of an old man trying to navigate the content in the heart of an obstinate child. He threw the Opele again and made some incantation. After some time he went into the inner room and came out with a small bottle with some liquid content.
“Drink this before you go into her room. When you drink this you will turn into the spirit of your dead father in her vision. You are going in as a dead husband and not as a son. Remember that this must happen on the third night. Bring the head to me on the fourth night.”
Those words have tormented him for a long time now. It must all end now. He takes out the small bottle that Baba Gida gave him and gulps down its content. The war has just begun!
Does he do these things? Let’s find out in the next episode.
WRITTEN BY UMUKORO ISAAC