MR.PRESIDENT

The back door of the black limousine was wide open; ushering me in. A big man was inside, a pretentious smile slit through his face. The bodyguard held the door wide open and just stared at me as I meticulously made my way into the vehicle.

"Champagne? It's a Dom Perignon 2003 Rose. Private order from France" came the metal voice from the big man. "No sir! I believe we are here for business," I cut him short arrogantly. How dare he offer me champagne? Came the strong disdain voice from my head. It is now 4pm in the evening and I have had nothing in my consistently complaining stomach and all he can offer is champagne?
"Okay then boy," came his echoing metal voice this time with an annoyed tone. "You know why you are here; I don't like it and I don't like you. If it wasn't for the president, you wouldn't be sitting your pathetic ass in this million-dollar limousine. We want you to call off the endless demonstrations by the students. We want you to join us and quit trying playing a game meant for the old folks. You are an intelligent young man and if you stop fighting your elders then perhaps we will have a place for you in the government. Do you understand?''

The limousine was something else, a specially installed music system, TV and even a personal bar, seats customized with imported leather; a bodyguard coupled as a chauffeur. Tax payers' money. Millions being minced into one man's luxury. And he wants me to join him in their high end organized crime on the innocent civilians? No sir. My balls couldn't take it. The government had taken so much from me; so much from its people.

''Do you understand boy?'' Came the repeated question from the now uneasy big man crashing me from my thoughts. His eyes speared mine and he grinded his teeth. He was antsy; waiting for an answer. This was my opportunity, I had to pull him down.
''You ask if I understand aye? I understand that this country is like a bleeding man in a capsizing boat and opts to save his life by jumping in to a sea full of sharks. You people are the sharks in this poor country with bleeding citizens like us trying each day to save our skin.'' I paused intentionally to weigh if I had crossed the boundary. His spear was now tightly gripped and was ready to pierce me. I needed to change the gear. I knew just how to do that.

''Sir, we need change. And you can bring that to actualization if service and patriotism was placed in front of individual self-interest. I also understand that many citizens are starving while we think of enjoying a limousine cooled champagne. That is what I understand sir," I finished with a bomb with my eyes stinging deep in his. If you can't kill a lion, intimidate it just well enough to make it think you are the king came the same metal voice in my head.

The big man's lips twitched. My words had chocked him. He tried to maintain his composure. Detestation painted itself on his countenance. The same evil smile came again then he opened his full lips. "When I look at you, I see myself in my youth; a fighter, to an extent you believe you are a revolutionist. I bet some of your friends call you Fidel Castro. The only difference between you and me is that I would have made the right choice." He paused, having smiled the entire time.

A brown envelope was on the other adjacent seat from where we sat. He picked it and threw it on my lap. We are a generous people boy and all we want to do is help. "How is your mother by the way?" He said boldly. This time the eyes smiled while he exposed a set of well-formed teeth for the first time. He knew he had touched a soft spot. I know she suffers from cancer. Stage three isn't it? As I said we are a good people. We can get her the best medication she requires. This time he lay back comfortably expecting my response.

My mum was now their leverage, I knew what they wanted me to do. It was an effective ruse; one that would possible make me coil my tail. She had just been discharged from hospital two days before, no hair, pale grey skin and a gait like that of a zombie. I was in pain seeing her this way and even cursed God for letting good people suffer while a pig like this one sat in a limousine enjoying some expensive champagne and boasting about how 'they are good people'
"What do you say boy? Came a question from the big man, this time gently. Then he continued. "We have a doctor ready for her. Dr. Jameson Underwood. The best in the country. A Harvard graduate, a class mate to Ben Carson; personal doctor to the presidential family. I trust this white man. He's not like the incompetent African medicine graduates who end up treating malaria with pain killers. I just need you to sign the agreement in the document on your lap. It's a simple choice. To choose to let your mother live a few more years or choose to fight for a country; for a people who will never remember you even as they write names like mine in the books of history," he paused and winked.

He poured some champagne into a glass and took a long sip. He glanced at me over the glass pressed lightly on his lips then expressed the pleasure coming from the drink. "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh... You really should have tasted this," he swanked.