Opinion: Buhari, Kanu And Igboho Are On The Roads To Their Dreams

I am heading to my grandmother’s farm, some distance from the spot where the road splits into three to their dreams. I am now resting under the canopy tree to catch my breath in preparation for harvest time.
I can see Nnamdi Kanu approaching the spot. He is about turning into the road on the right. I run after him in excitement.
He looks at me strangely. He is asking what I am doing here? He wants to know if I am going to Biafra. He says the road he is turning into leads to Biafra.
He turns into the road as I follow closely. Behold, a big tree has been fell to block it. I am watching to see what he will do. He has to move the giant log to continue his journey. He brings out a sharp axe from the big bag hanging on his back. He says he will cut the log into pieces before sunset. He is at it with all seriousness.
As I look on, I see Sunday Igboho making a turn into the road on the left. He is not smiling. I run after him to know why he has come.
“Mr Igboho,“ I call.
He knows my voice and he answers with a vehemence that warns me to stay away. But, I am resolute when I find the opportunity for a good story. He eyes are fixed on my megaphone. He is asking me why I go everywhere with it. “But, you know it’s my duty to tell the stories of men and their exploits.”
He smiles as he beats his chest in continuation of his journey. I follow him into the road. Behold, there is a big rock blocking his passage. As I wonder if he has the strength to roll back the rock, he brings out a mighty hammer from the leopard skin bag with him. He is hitting the rock frantically as I look into the road in the middle. I can see a slim man walking with three hungry looking cows.

 

I run after him. Wow, he is Buhari.
He says he has shown those boys never to dare him again. “Which boys?” I ask. He says he has conscripted all the axes and hammers in the land, that the roads to their dreams are now blocked.
He cannot believe what I just told him I saw Kanu and Igboho doing. He can’t believe it. He hands his cows to me for safekeeping and starts folding his sleeves for a fight. He says he will not take it. He says his cows are dying of hunger because Kanu and Igboho planted masquerades that will not allow them feed in peace in our farms.
Buhari is running back to the spot where the road splits into three to be sure I am not lying.
His cows are looking at me suspiciously.
What do I do with them?
I don’t want to be called a cattle rustler. I am just a story teller.
But remember; this is the beginning of the story. I will complete it when I wake up. Am I dreaming?
This article was written by Edmund Obilo, a talk radio Journalist…

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