Sunday morning @9.

On gray sandals and in a halfway buttoned up blue shirt , he walks briskly and in a swift move throws his butt on an armchair.
A shaky top brass pops up removes a vase, centers a mic close to the chin of the
man in blue and leaves.
A gray haired man, holding  tight an empty glass,  in the oldest inn by the celebrated city avenue , was absent mindedly staring at a tv screen hanging on a wall..
An untimely national anthem off the screen attracted the attention of all. The bartender raised the volume.
A tri-colored  flag backdrop and a red star blinking at the far end of the screen, signal something is coming.
   “Dear citizens”,   he started..
(A short pause..frowning slim face with  a copstash  zoom-out, undercutting the photogenic profile zoom-ins they were used to. Contiunued with an unusual shaky tone:)
    ehhhm…the old  my father
    and mother ; the young my
    son and daughter. Regret  I
    have no peers.
   I must admit that the
   sacrifices endured pierce my
   conscience;  the faces of the
   dead cut my spirit no less;
   the mess in the boarder glare
   on my face, the curses of the
   displaced and siblings of the
   assasinated as well as  a
   hunch so terrible spirals a
   linen duress.
    I’m  honestly seeking your
    understanding, forgiveness
   and prayers. As a token of
   capitulation and regret, I am
   ready to carry in public a
   boulder on my shoulder at
  Awate square.
Besides the old man a drunken shortie murmured ,”Who shall watch you in Daikota” sip the last drop in that old inn and he staggered to the restroom to download.  Never seen again.
The guy in blue continued..
   The late Mandella  said,
   “Don’t judge me by my
    success, judge me by how
    many times I fell down and
    got back up again”
    As you may recall I had lately
   admitted publicly our state
   macroeconomic failure and
   did say I will revise the
    Well that was part of the
    healing process as most of
    you might have guessed.
     It all got worse when I was
     caught by the killer cerebral
     malaria.   Ever since , my
     physician left no stone
    unturned for my full recovery.
     Today at twilight he gave
      me the final discharge and
      left back home.
       Praise be to God!.
    In several healing sessions, I
   came to understand, he used
   to video replay  selected
   speeches and interviews
    delivered by me, in vain.
    Only yesterday ,as he
    advised, I did furiously
    react with dismay by the
    recklessness of my
    deliberations, my vivid
    disregard for logic ,
    ethics & diplomatic
    protocol plus barefaced
    I asked in outrage where is
    Sali Subdue!!!?
  they told me he defected to
  the land down under.
   What about my both soul
  They told me the first
  defected to uropa during
  the old days of G’s…
  didnt he come back yet!?, I
  they answered nob. ..
  And the later they added is
  somewhere around..
  What about Nice-Gee and
  ‘Woe-shoe’? I asked.
  They answered mercy on
  their souls.
  I was earlier comforted by my
  Doctor,  that the impact of
 cerebral malaria is deadly but
  fortunately  I was rescued in
   The side effects on survivors,
   however is dissolution and
   impeding/loss of  judgment.
   What happened since my
   early  visits to Sollo needs a
   revisit with the assistance of
   local therapy, sorcerer
   Somer for one was diligently
   Thus…I discussed with, pilot
   Upper-Hum, to whom I
  regrettably didn’t heed before.
  He recounted tragic events
  that split my hair. He said
   ‘dad step down at
  least for our sake!! Please
  dad! Please!’.   I am proud of
  my heir, the only soul around
  who spelled it out.
  I summoned Zipp-Hat
 (Obidiently loyal  eversince
  he disowned the covert Bat)
  and after taking his feedback, I
  told him I shall resign from all
   He tried to dissuade me
   arguing, basically as to
    avert chaos besides there
   are no survivors left to fill the
   posts anyway. What about tri-
   mate Mess-Win, I asked,
  didn’t he accomplish his task? …He said, the man might be
  contented with his titular
   and nostalgic name.
    He  recalled, when Naser
    aired his resignation on
    personal accountability of
    the ’67 six days war defeat,
    the people spontenously
   swept the streets begging for
   his  stay in office.
    I told him  theirs was a
    limited  mis-hap, ours is
    huge and extended gallons of
      Besides, this has never
      been my style, I  shall take
     full responsibility and step
    Today I’m  back to absolute
     “transparency” disclosing
      the raw truth with humility
      and resolve.
      Dear citizens,
     I am fully aware my regime
     betrayed the nacent nation,
     the judiciary, elected
     parliament,  inherited civil
     service, Military est.,
     police, sole university,
     youth , small business,
     minors, rule of law, civics,
     intelligentsia, nomads,
     peasants, fishermen, land,
     heritage & culture of
     significant segment,
    overall development,
    women,  elders, education,
    men of faith, Veteran fighters
    you name it, all supporters of
    our struggle when the going
    was tough and good
    neighboring hosts of our
    hectic days. I fully regret.
    Make no mistakes, the rule
    of law shall  prevail.
     I will stand decidedly for
      reconciliation and equity,
       yet every sane adult will
       pay his dues before the
      court of law.
Mess Win, was shaken to death, this mad soul might confess to a point of no comeback or redress.    
    ‘Although thousand times’,
    our failure to comprehend
    the  vital issues is basically
    attributed to the prevailing
    creative choas…yet I am not
    to blame, for I am honestly
    clueless of what evil drove
    the young in droves away
    from such sweet home to
    the perils of the deadly high
    seas, the monstrous human
    organ trafickeers,poor camps
     across the boarders.
     Dummit, these are the breed
    of  heroes and heroines
     How on earth I would
     commit premeditated
     maiming of unarmed
     wounded veterans when
     they’ve had in good faith
     released me under my
      promise to mend fences.
      How !?  I am shocked! trust
      me .
    How come :
    I incarcerate reporters who
    took the freedom of press
   declared at face value and
   engaged accordingly.
    How come:  I incarcerate
    veteran G’s and leave the
     G of elites..
     How come: the late Wabbe
    my early sponsor is denied
     dignified burial at martyrs
     cemetery.  The late Wultan
      & Weldriss as well,  they
     merit no less than the one
     I held to a man who served
     the occupier for life ,the late
     Wesfa Johnson Werhe.
      How on earth the refugees
      who started it all languish
      so long in destitute.
      How come a national
     service ended up to an open
     ended unpaid labour
      How come Awate cemetery
      or name is superceded by
     How come the deligent
     camel is hijacked from its
     natural habitat to decorate
      our notes.
       How come all my brothers
       in the original inner party
       are no longer with me
       except the Joy Bag of Enna
     How come I trust foreign
     opposition forces in our soil
     instead of my disciples
     How come I push away my
     stepping stones one by one
      to oblivion.
     God! we were second to
     sorcerers say it was a red
     eye. .of a man whom I
     hosted , embraced and
     impressed and gave him a
     country in a silver plate…
     mercy upon his soul.
In the New Fiore, the incumbent PM together with head of intelligence, to interpret, were seriously reading the deliberation.   In Germany prof. Tetfar Son was wearily watching the man, took off his spectacles murmuring what a curse..Oro-my.
A giggle was reportedly heard by the cemetery of the late PM Miles Z Now.
The head of intelligence in Cartoun was attentively listening to his interpreter ..uttering ‘gadeema’ in between.
D’debuti PM sarcsstically remarked what a multi facade.
The Big Boss consulate wired home..” Another play for local consumption” nothing serious business as usual..  
    Let me elaborate …
(said the man in blue shirt)
    before your imagination
    leads you to pass hasty
    judgements. .
     1. It all started in Addis
         university when I was an
         undergraduate.I was
        approached by the late
        notable uncle of mine,. The
        governor of Sollo  who
        asked me if I have joined
        ‘makhber  Hawaliat’ I said
        Yes.  After a wide smile he
        nodded good.  You will be
        tasked with an important
Suddenly the man  fainted , his head dropped as in slow motion, followed by a sudden TV blackout.
Cafés , by the only celebrated Avenue in the Capital, full of humming  gossip and exchange of  worried looks .
Different rhythms ring off cells, some calling ,others attending calls .
Some bartenders cleaning their wet cheeks. Some watching with  neutral faces.  But no one was indifferent for all eyes focused in one direction. Except.. that old gray haired gentleman looking disdainfully into his empty glass.
A guy asked where is Awate square? His friend whispered it’s another Singapore, selling air. .in despair. .
Abroad some veteran dissents. searching cabins for passports web sites caught between patience and tempting breaking news.  “Teller” seems .. dumbfounded his cell mobile was dead. Septic Timber was in deep shock. Dente wrote breaking news the despot on the loose. Capitalino rings home to no avail..Wamal cleaning her throat for the stage.. Ohmal busy recording it all.
 Dr. Makeer started posting on his wall titled twice fooled shame on us…..etc
UpsalUp posted what about human organ trafficking and the mafia in uniform.
Other opposition spokespersons on foreign media outlets, though perplexed show a KIA faces. Some say, the man is cornered and trying to buy time.  Others say their sources say we are on the verge of victory and this is a last futile attempt to foil our move.  Game over!..over. Over Down Down Dictator.
‘Offend’ the only group that gave in was celebrating and calling for reconcilliation, let the bygones be bygones we are the children of today.
Embassies of the state not attending any calls.
The  only TV of the state resumed  transmission.  A middle aged lady in traditional attire and a big smile with a bow, announced  “it is all falks!”  Sunday fun time. ..
Gossip in town went viral, the recently arrived Agip-Zion intelligence drill titled ‘fun time’ for the local intelligence staff proved successful ..on tapped cells and phones .
The old man uttered, “falks were buried  with the last humor drop on the eve of the first bullet  fired in the Capital city on armless veterans wounded in the war for liberation. Their only crime was to dare stand for their dignity
 and political naiveté..I survived the massacre with another amputated limb”.
He threw the vindictive glass but missed the screen.
A young lad with drop bottom and flag  tried to cool  him down, but the man told him first dress up…it was not for this that we carried our lives in our palms. …Be a man!.
The boy undertoned, “ok!”.. and muted “when I see one!”.
Ibrahim Osman.
‘All characters appearing in this piece are fictitious.  Any resemblane to events and/or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental’.
It’s all falks…..


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