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.
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
constitution.
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
arrogance.
I asked in outrage where is
Sali Subdue!!!?
they told me he defected to
the land down under.
What about my both soul
mates?
They told me the first
defected to uropa during
the old days of G’s…
didnt he come back yet!?, I
asked.
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
time.
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
effective.
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
posts.
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
blood.
Besides, this has never
been my style, I shall take
full responsibility and step
down.
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
‘shidda’..
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
Saye
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
none.!!!.
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
mission.
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.
Disclaimer:
‘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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