I’ve been on the case of freeing the Nigerian Citizen, Yusuf Ishaq held by security agencies for live-tweeting since hence didn’t post early. Our voices are rising and I ask that you join to pressure the government to disclose his whereabouts and release him or charge him to court.
Today, we have @DisFeMISef with the continuation of BPOM…believe me when I say today’s post is so totally awesome and jaw dropping..Share comments and feedback with us, would mean a lot to us all..Enjoy
Everything was going according to plan. Better than planned even. The nation had had no idea what hit them. He smiled again. Finally, his people would no longer have to live with those barbaric and uncivilized northerners, nor would they have to grapple with the thieving Easterners, nor would they have to suffer those idiot slouches from the South.
OluwaseungbogboAlayaki was a big man. He had a high forehead and deep set, cruel eyes. He had a large nose with comically large nostrils. And his black lips were small in comparison to the rest of his face. He was the leader of the OPC. His followers had decided to call him ‘Afonja’. Afonja was the equivalent of a Field Marshall in Ilorin which was then under the control of the Oyo empire. Afonja had engineered a successful rebellion that had taken Ilorin outside of the Oyo empire’s rule.
This was exactly what the present day Afonja was doing now. He was taking his Yoruba people outside the rule of this oppressive country, ruled by people who were not fit to tie his shoelaces. It was a fitting name.
The OPC had dwindled. They were no longer the force they once were. Oh, he remembered with fondness and nostalgia all the mayhem they had caused in the late 90s and early 2000s. When the military faction had just broken off from the main party, led by their dear leader Ganiyu Adams.
Afonja was the next head.
He had vowed to take them back to their former glory. They had been feared. They had been revered. Those days were coming back.
He was looking over reports from various specialists on issues regarding boundaries for his new nation. The land of the Yorubas. He chuckled to himself as he imagined naming the country ‘New Ife’ or ‘Ife Tun Tun.’ Yes! That had a nice ring to it. He also had his computer before him giving him the latest information on what was going on. The easy part was over, now was the hard part.
They were going to have to negotiate peacefully with his other warlords as to how the nations would be divided. He still had his eye on Kogi and maybe even Edo state to add to his ‘Ife Tun Tun.’ He was liking that name more by the minute. The biggest problem was going to be Lagos. Afonja knew that the Yorubas had claims to it, but he was sure the other warlords were going to make a play for it too. He had a couple of plans on how to deal with these inconveniences though. He’s started putting them in motion ever since the plan had been revealed to them.
This brought him to think about the ‘Iron Lady’ Margaret. He laughed. She thought she was smart bringing four warlords together, but she was way over her head here. He had to hand it to her though, her plan was brilliant, but she was too much of an idealist. This was all for the best, this way, everyone would be happy. His belief was that the best thing for Margaret to do was to disappear, that was unlikely though, as he fully expected her to be dead by now. There had been no place for her in the grand scheme of things. She had played her part brilliantly. When she had told them of the plan to execute the Executives and how to go about it, the opportunity was glaring. In fact, it was he who had persuaded the others to agree to the separation. The politicians that could have stood in their way were either dead or too scared to do anything. Margaret was too much of an idealist to agree with the plan for separation. She was gooey eyed and believed that with the executives out of the way, the nation could move forward in peace. Afonja knew this was impossible. It was impossible simply because it was never meant to be in the first place. So on hearing the plan, Afonja just tweaked it a little. In separate nations, they could all progress. It was a pity Margaret had to die. But that was the way it was, sacrifices had to be made.
An assistant came in. He saluted and held out a phone.
“Sir, won pe yin”
The assistant didn’t respond, but he looked uneasy. Afonja grabbed the phone.
He heard the voice on the other end and froze.
He couldn’t believe it.
Speak of the devil.
It was Margaret
Afonja tried to stay calm.
“What the hell was that? I don’t remember agreeing to this?”
Her tone irritated Afonja. She was a woman, she had no right to talk like this, like she was ordering him or looking down on him. But he kept his cool and answered,
“We made a few adjustments to the plan”
“And I wasn’t a part of it,” Margaret asked. “You tried to take me out of the picture?”
“I’m sure you understand Margaret, it’s for the greater good” he answered smoothly.
She was incensed.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” she exclaimed. She was silent for a while. Then she exhaled. “You will all regret tangling with me.” She said this in a quiet, dangerous voice. Afonja had to admit he was a little uneasy.
“We can work this out Margaret. Come, let’s have a meeting.” She didn’t answer. He knew she was considering it.
“Wait Margaret, let’s try a…”
She had hung up. Afonja gritted his teeth. The nerve! He gripped the phone rather tightly. Then he stopped himself. He relaxed.
This was just an annoying little obstacle, an inconvenience to the greater plan, he’d take care of it, and her.
She wants a battle ehn? Oh, she’ll definitely get one.