Masquerade on fire
By Jon Egie
We thought Okowa was intelligent and smart but like all oversmart people his purported endorsement of Sheriff has exposed his persona and texture of costumes he is garbed to show that he is not made of sterner stuff but a moving mass of rafia weavings and like the recent tragedy that befell that smart Anambra masquerade and his gang, he shall be engulfed in the fire that he and his gang has secretly ignited to deceive the people; if he does not make a safe U-turn, and we pray he does not end like the burnt masquerade, blistered, agonized and d…
E. A. Wallis Budge (Egyptian Book of the Dead) says small gods die when men no longer serve, honour and deify them and men who mock and mimick God, acclaiming the virtues of a god to themselves even though men have not made them gods die fast especially when virtues of gods cease to flow from them and have become mere men from which realm they smartly tried to dodge.
Okowa has stepped into the arena of the gods and behaving like the Chief Masquerade, dances the steps of gods, by a smart mimick and mockery, even though the drum beats of the gods were not sounded.
And now, you see, when the gods awake and send their messengers in black and hoot the cry of the sprits that are heard in the midnight and wee hours to confront a fake god in demand of debts owed the indigenes- true sons and daughters of the gods, in the broad daylight, it is obvious that a taboo has been committed; the rabbit has gone gaming in the daytime.
The consequences are clear and because he knows he has not been a true god and deified by the people, Fiam! Okowa jittered and and is trying to escape through the rear. But the gods have unleashed the spirits and the fire of deceit he lit to outsmart the people has engulfed him.
The spirits of the living gods have taken hold of the gates and they are not going, the land owners have emerged, the hoot and cries beckon on Okowa to appease the true gods, do the needful and restitute.
The gods are angry, the true gods the people deified have left the groves, in black, in the daytime, with a hoot and they call on the usurper to renounce and submit to the will of the people.
The masquerade has lost the dancesteps in the arena of the gods and now, he is engulfed in the fire of deceit and oversmartness that he ignited.
The gods are not to blame, the masquerade burns. Mere men who pose as gods are masquerades, let us pray for the burning masquerade.
No one has been god here, even the men deified have been demystified and become mere men bathing in unshed tears, pleading with a platter of sentiment for yet a bit of honour and dignity.
But for seven years this man has run around the arena of the gods smartly claiming to be one of the gods and now he burns.
Small gods die but he still smartly wanted to begat a fake god like him, with impunity, even in the arena of the gods. The spirits hoot and wail, he runs through the rear exit but the day of doom has come.
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