See them

As elections knock on the door

They jump into every keke tricycle and holler more than career conductors

as their aides make way

They run errands in markets …buying roast corn, dry meat, fish and all what not.

In accident scenes they turn emergency road marshals, waving like mad men.



Their tinted SUVs’ glasses wind down now so they can wave at the waves they left four years earlier

They walk the streets and shake unsoliciting hands and carry babies their policies left hungry

They laugh at dumb jokes and hug all but currentless transformers.

They scramble for handshake even with the dead!



Erecting statues,carving camps and founding foundations but cannot be honest like Emenike who knows that Ndubuisi!

Fixing tournaments including nocturnal moments with their mistresses because their wives understand how tired they are.



All clowns waiting for elections

They will not pay salaries but they will maintain their political structures

They will not pay pensions but they will pay marabouts.

They will buy over opposition members with millions and tell their strongest passionate supporters how they should remain very loyal with raging hunger.



They will sponsor their political adverts with millions and pay no attention to our CVs

When they eat,they hide in their closet to gobble our common wealth but show the whole wide world on international screens how they fed me with crumbs falling off their platters.

What they promise you on campaigns they forget the first day of winning elections on the first sip of champaign…pains!

Is pain synonymous with politicians­­?



Who bought your conscience and with how much shekels, with what currency?

That you do not see the carves of our lean ribs jutting out from overfeeding.

Where did he who bought your conscience keep his conscience?

In what base bank did you barter it with our collective future?

Can you not see that we can no longer postpone the hunger you hoist in place of our national flag?



You make us speak in the lingua of war



Before your fortified eardrums can hear our piling plight.

Ask Dokubo!

Ask Tompolo!

Ask Charles Okah!

Ask Abubakar Shekau! ­­

Ask this angry reader!…

Ask them all

Can you erect the statue of my hungry ribs a worthy memorabilia of your achievements and then pay for the adverts?

Can your camera capture how hungry you have left us over these four years?



If you cut 30percent from my salary, how much did you cut from yours that leaves you more well fed than your state?

Can your children live in the austerity that you author?



Do you know what it means to go hungry and watch your child cry and weep and wail?

Do you know what it means to string my ribs like a guitar and make music of my yawns,music that my spindle feet is so weary to dance.



Even the polish from your worn out shoes still shines forth from the bins while my feet scratches every earth wandering untarred roads you constructed in the news.



I want to see more of your jingles not of your political return but of your notification to go on strike. When shall that happen?


I query…when will you go on strike?

To protest very decrepit conditions of service like Civil and Public servants you refuse to pay.

When will your placards post your angst?

Politicians…bring back your consciences!



By Charles Ejinduaka for malizumedia

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