When we reached the school, I met with the principal first but unfortunately, I couldn’t find her in her office. On my way back to the car a few seconds later, as I was walking across the school courtyard, I had the genuine idea to find about where she could be from a young man who was selling cigarettes. He pointed her as she was discussing with some kids on the opposite side of the courtyard. It shocked me to discover how beautiful she was. My head was full of clichés before I met her. I was expecting to see a woman with dry skin and heavy spectacles, cold personality, and unsympathetic. She was just the opposite; gracious, attractive on her high heels and long hair. This was the tempting beauty men usually chase all their life not only for marriage. She had an average height, dark-skinned, and a round pretty face with sensual lips covered in red lipstick. Sublime in the African gown she was wearing, more like a Ghanaian gown, her entire person was buzzing off an amazing freshness capable of provoking addictions and admiration like one of the most splendid Michel-Ange work of art. It had been so difficult for me to stay focused on our discussion without contemplating her face. Her gorgeousness absorbed my entire person like Indian air does to cobra. Apart from my eyes, nothing else functioned. I turned deaf, I couldn’t even hear her name. But the sudden irritation in her facial expression surprised me and pushed me back on the right track. As I started listening to her with more attention, I rapidly felt her involvement in the community; her frowning face was putting more intensity to her speech, complaints after complaints were continuously running out of her mouth with sincerity and passion. After delighting me, she now put me in deep melancholy. The saddest part was that I wasn’t the solution to most of the problems she was narrating, so all I could do was listen with commiseration.
Our conversation ended when she left for the chief’s house, leaving me with sadness in my heart not only because of the difficulties she expressed to me but also because of her gracious person leaving, replaced by this old man, a less sympathetic individual with an old school manner. A quick look at him made him a sexagenarian in my eyes, I didn’t need to see this picture of him with a military uniform on the wall to conclude he was surely a veteran. The direct opposite of the principal, the man caught my attention quick; his first words were full of charisma and power before he asked me:
“Mister Paul! Tell me! For you, what’s the reason for this charity event?”
“Sir, you know Mister Agbwala is a very generous person. Plus, you know he is…”
“Exactly!!!” He shouted. Many people here are accusing him of having a hidden agenda of using this region for his political ambition. That’s bullshit. I know him! And I know he is a man with a lot of compassion and concern for every citizen of this country. He has a good heart, unlike most of his colleagues. You know, after twenty years, they still consider us as traitors, as outcasts, but most of us have never been in any way associated with the rebels. It’s unfair that today, we are suffering because of that. Even basic needs, we cannot fulfill, no light, no current water! Why will the youths not turn bandits?”
Expressing the poverty in his village and the injustice his people were suffering for many years, ignited anger in him as if he was just from noticing those inequalities. Knowing that I could not do anything to change this situation sooner and that I was actually working for the government that was oppressing them, I decided to remain quiet and showed him some compassion with my attitude. No word could have calmed his bitterness. After spitting his fury for about five long minutes with me listening attentively, he remained silent for some seconds as if he was trying to rest after a serious effort. Then he took his phone and made a call. As soon as he finished the phone call in which the conversation was in the same dialect as that of those thugs at the periphery of the village, he looks intently at me and said:
“Son, I just had one of my guys on the phone. Go back to school; he and his friends will help you.”
“Oh, thank you very much, sir,” I responded a little embarrassed.
To say the truth, I wasn’t expecting nor desiring any help; even though I appreciated his affability, looking at the task we were about to do, any assistance other than that of my colleagues seemed useless. But my estimation of the workers needed was totally inexact. I found myself mentally thanking him more sincerely when we faced the issue of transportation of plastic chairs and tarps. We could not have finished installing all the equipment required for the event without these young people’s help. I was so pleased by their enthusiasm while helping us. They showed us a better image of the youths of this region by behaving friendly and far different than those bandits who wanted to aggress us when we arrived.
Two hours later, everything was ready before the entire regional establishment arrived. We could now rest a little before the beginning of the ceremony. As I patiently waited for the arrival of the minister and my other colleagues, I noticed that at forty minutes before the commencement; the place was still empty; that was a very bad situation. Knowing that all this was also organized to show the love mister minister benefited all over the country, even in the regions known for their detestation towards the regime, poor attendance would have sounded like a defeat. In this particular period where he was facing so many issues, the press would have not hesitated to take that as an advantage and turn it as the ultimate demonstration of his downfall. Even though the popularity of my boss was an acknowledged fact, I couldn’t be a hundred percent confident about the success of the event with all the bad luck that has been chasing him for the past three months. That’s why I anxiously prayed to see the crowd coming. Sometime later, the small number of people attending was turning into a crowd; and ten minutes before the official opening of the event, a large crowd was present and ready to welcome mister minister. The entire village was present; no single member of the regional establishment was absent. The ambiance was jovial, cadenced by drums, people were shaking and giggling their bodies before a group of kids demonstrated a delighting ballet that they surely prepared for months. The excitement was all over. The national television channel was also present to capture everything during the ceremony as Mister Minister required from its general manager, a special team for that purpose.
Everybody was now patiently waiting for the main person of the occasion. The wait didn’t last long. At exactly four o’clock, a black Mercedes emerged in front of a convoy of about ten vehicles from the same standard. Then two minutes later, Mister Agbwala’s team of security guards, three tall guys wearing black from head to toe, speaking on their small earpieces with a lot of focus, moved out of his Volkswagen before opening the backdoor of the car. Subsequently, the Minister came out of the luxurious automobile with his usual and notorious classiness; he was in a stylish grey suit, designed black sunglasses, working on a red carpet in an astonishing allure. The whole crowd went into a noisy fervor after his salutations, displayed a remarkable passion who sounded like a proof of his undeniable popularity despite all the denigrations on him since the last three months. He was still their hero, the one who had always defended them and assisted them no matter their political point of view. These cheers from this village were what we came for. Capturing an image of people from an acknowledged hostile region celebrating their champion, showing him love, was an amazing element we could use for propaganda.
A gorgeous little girl came to welcome him with a bunch of flowers, and then he made an outstanding speech that ended with a standing ovation from the crowd. He insisted in his speech on the need for everyone in the nation to come together and to forget the past. He called the authority to come and assist the population of Waloua and encouraged the youths of the region to continue to work hard and progress. He couldn’t end his propos without adding some propaganda for him and his party, which was a normal move from an established politician like himself. After that, the main part of the ceremony came when he officially handed his donation to the principal of the school. The lady received with a large smile, the ten computers and four new generation printers he offered. Her joy was so extreme that she could not hold herself to express it with a funny dance move that made the entire crowd laugh as if we were watching a comical show. Some young men just by my side even testified their shock after seeing this