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The umbrella men have come again. They have come with
their rented crowds to roll out manifestos that promise everything but mean
nothing. They are dancing to the percussion of promises on podiums of poverty
and perfidy. And at each venue, the umbrella men will stand on platforms to
proclaim promises that are premised on prodigal platitudes and profound
pretexts.

The umbrella
men have come to mock our fears and rub muck on our faces. Our silent wailing
grants no respite as troops throng to the throne, prostituting posterity for a
pittance. Today, the vaults of state have been vacuumed, bequeathing legacies
of debt to souls yet unborn. For the umbrella men, prosperity is built on lies,
fears and tears, but the melodies of the moment have crooned out the cravings
of hunger and craters of hopelessness.

As we
grimace from the embrace of the umbrella men, the mast of corruption is misted
by the clouds of senseless spending. Greed is fanning the flames of sedition,
but every sense of reason and every slice of wisdom have been procured by the
ambitions of the umbrella men. The nation is being dragged along the festering
sewers of crass ineptitude and primitive profligacy, but the umbrella men plan
to storm through a million ballots to contrive victory; itself a mean medallion
for many midnights murdered.

The umbrella
men have come again to speak through their noses and sing without their hearts.
We know they have no clue where to lead us, but ingrained identities have been
bred to dance to the tunes of inbred rhythms. And so multitudes will cast their
ballots for the umbrella men, though they share neither shade nor sanctuary
from their sheer sectionalism. In this season, visionaries are draped with the
toga of falsehood to hang them while the visionless are raised and praised to
the genre of genius.

For the
umbrella men, merit is a waste; cheating is the game. This is a season of
revelry for those in the shades of the Clueless Couple who sell this country
one bit at a time. They are dying to serve you, but will also kill you to serve
you. They promise freedom, but it will come in chains; they pledge prosperity
but it will be drenched in the cloaks of poverty; we pray for hope, but they
prey on our fears.

Yet again,
the umbrella men have come to ply us with new lies to quell old fears. For a
dozen years, we irrigated the bud of hope for a better future, but what we see
today is the demise of fast fading hopes and democracy that benefits the
biggest thieves only. So we watch in terror, drenched in soundless screams as
the umbrella men sing to the disharmony of democracy’s meaningless dance steps.

For twelve
years, we have remained hungry to sate the palates of the umbrella men; for
twelve years, the umbrella men told us that democracy would put food on tables,
but our hands cannot reach the tables anymore. We were promised balms to soothe
our open wounds, but Jos, Maiduguri, Aba and the Delta fester afresh; we were
promised homes with proper roofs, yet our children are born under the glare of
naked flares.

The umbrella
men spent countless billions for light inside our homes, but we have learnt to
see in the darkest of nights; we drooled at the optimism that once promised so
many dishes, but now know that redemption may only come when we are interred
six feet deep. And in another four years, the umbrella men will come to trample
on our graves.

In
yesteryears, we only sang consolation songs: ‘only if there was no death; only
if there was no ill health; only if they had gold in their breath; only if
there was no end to the earth – only then would we envy vast wealth’. So we let
the umbrella men walk with lightening and speak with thunder from yonder. But
now as we ponder, all the pomp and pageantry are cast asunder. In the coming
battle of ballots, there will be no more mounds left to conquer.

And as the
scents of Tunis and Cairo saunter in, the boiling rage, the compressed cauldron
of poverty and iniquity will explode in a frenzied dance of intrinsic humanity.
North and South will march as one and long oppressed souls will fight free of
the frozen embrace of stolen mandates.
And sombre songs like this shall salute the demise of the umbrella men.