THE RETURN

His Excellency sat very still as the presidential jet announced its landing procedure, he sat rigid and upright like a statue with the fixed expression of an owl startled by an errant field mouse.

He had brushed aside the frantic appeals of the doctors who continued to express grave concern over his decision to return to the country barely a week after coming out of a coma that many considered to be a final farewell.

The first lady sat beside him, her expression blank, like an Indian statue, her bitterness and anger adding a tinge of foundation to her heavily made up face, he understood her anger, but he would not bow to it, she and his children were probably the only ones who cared whether he lived or died. The crushing burden of rejection by a whole country remained, he told who ever cared to listen that he wasn’t moved by public opinion, but whenever he looked at his tired visage in the bathroom mirror he knew that that the face looking back at him cared, cared enough to grimace in pain, not from the sickness eating away at his body.

He smiled to himself as he indulged in the day dream that usually brought him out of his dark moods, seeing his daughters playing in the backyard of his humble home in Katsina, they played then with so much energy, without a care in the world, he smiles to himself and shook his head. He had devised a survival mechanism known only to himself, every time he had a serious crisis and his body started its downward spiral, he would remember his daughters carefree laughter, he would see them play in the yard, he would escape to that happy place and he would draw upon it for strength, and the pain, the weakness, the loss of consciousness would eventually let him go, yet again death would fail.

Ah, in the days when I was still a strong, young man, I marvel at what I have become, weak, frail, fragile shadow of a man, yet, I am the strongest man in the country, I am a contradiction, just like the country I lead, I guess God Almighty has a sense of humor after all.

The president pondered on his reverie as the plane taxied into position, he looked through the window and saw the large crowd waving the Nigerian flag and the party flag, he shook his head, I wonder who got the contract to supply the flags, he shook his head again with a smirk, a country with no soul, a people maligned and despised by the whole world, he had been briefed about the Muthalab incident, that was truly sad, he knew the boy and respected the father, he had been briefed about the new restiveness in the Niger Delta, he didn’t understand the crazy men from the creeks, he had been briefed about the renewed religious crisis in Bauchi, he mourned the dead school children like any teacher would.

As he got up slowly from his special custom made orthopedic seat, he headed towards the open door, towards the light, softly glowing beckoning to him to rest, the chanting of the crowd grew dim as it was overshadowed by the calming vision of his daughters playing in the backyard, he smile once more and closed his eyes.

The end.