With Brooms, Umbrellas, Crops and Livestock.

Twenty fifteen elections are around the corner with different candidates from different political parties vying for a mark beneath my thumb.
Although they are different, they are united by a common goal.

To effect positive change and growth.

They say this in earnest and with palms across their chest, they make this pledge. They seem believable, they seem true yet I find it a little difficult to trust their word.
How can you give me change when you permit irrational acts to be done in your name?
Since when does cutting away the roots of a tree strengthen the plant?
Aside from intimidation, name-calling and image bashing, all over town, promotional posters are splattered indiscriminately defacing buildings, fences and road dividers to name a few.

I am thinking to myself, “who will clean up this mess?”

Over the months, I've come across jingles, adverts in publications and really pretty billboards (plus or minus Photoshop).
Nice words, catchy phrases; I got the message.

Ten-eleven years ago, I went to watch a theater presentation with my mum in the evening. It ran longer than the usual 2hrs but was worth it. We made our way home and were surprised to see lots of cars parked in front of and about our residence.
At that time, it was a tradition for members of staff and office holders to personally visit family members of recently bereaved.
My dad had gone for an official errand and was due home that evening.
I scanned the lot of cars looking for my father’s vehicle.
It was not there.
I looked at my mother she looked at me; neither of us uttered a word. We knew what the other was thinking but were afraid that if we spoke it might come to pass.
Our silence was a prayer.
In trepidation we got out of the vehicle and walked into the house.
I saw someone.
He looked like my father, he sounded like my father but I hesitated to admit he was my father.
The man looked heartbroken. He was pale, shaken and in tears. Words I have never associated with my father in all my years.
His clothes were blood stained, glasses askew and his lips trembled whenever he tried to speak.
He was a wreck.
It turned out he was involved in an accident and his driver died.
Not from the accident but from lack of… I really can’t say.

They were flung off the road by a trailer avoiding a pothole without functioning breaks.
The car fell into a ditch and they passed out momentarily.
My dad was the first to come to.
He called his driver. When he realized the driver wasn’t responding to his name, he urged the gathering onlookers to assist him.
As luck would have it, there was a government hospital about 20 minutes away. He gave a man some money to use an okada to bring help. The man returned alone saying the staff on duty said there was no fuel in the ambulance. Without thinking, he gave him money to give to them to buy fuel.
When the ambulance came, they loaded the driver into the vehicle and drove straight into a bottleneck. The road was bad so only one side of it was pliable. In addition, they had to drive slowly because one of the back tires of the ambulance had a fault.
After about an hour or more, they got to the hospital.
First they would not let them sit till they confirmed my dad could afford the registration fee and ensuing bills. After that, the generator would not come on and there was no waiting for NEPA because the transformer was blown.
Almost frantic, he gave them money to do what ever it took to get light in the hospital.
After taking the driver to the waiting room. The nurse on duty said they would have to wait a while because the doctor on duty was in his private hospital. My dad sat on the bed with his driver cradled in his arms.
He kept talking to him and urging him to hold on a little while longer, ‘help was on the way’.
It was when the nurse was reprimanding the cleaning lady for not preparing the bed like she asked her to that the driver tapped my father and said “oga, you don try for me. I don taya. Make I go.”

About four hours after surviving a ghastly motor accident, the driver *Mr. X Y Z gave up and died in my father’s arms.

3 presidents and 10 years later, similar incidents are still occurring.
People are still dying from neglect, disintegration and misplaced priorities.

Twenty fifteen elections are around the corner with different candidates from different political parties vying for a mark beneath my thumb.

Before I accept your promise of positive change and growth, do you know who the people are?
Are you abreast with the needs of said people?
What makes what you are saying now different from what you said in the past?
How do you intend to add quality to my life?