SILENCE AT DAWN: CHAPTER THREE.

Kabaka pressed the tip of the needle against his shaved head, sighing with pleasure as the sharp tool plunged in and out of his flesh. The soft hum of the electric device was addictive . . . as was the bite of the needle sliding deep into his dermis and depositing its dye.

I am a masterpiece.

The goal of tattooing was never beauty. The goal was change. From the scarified Nubian priests of 2000 B.C., to the tattooed acolytes of the Cybele cult of ancient Rome, to the moko scars of the modern Maori, humans have tattooed themselves as a way of offering up their bodies in partial sacrifice, enduring the physical pain of embellishment and emerging changed beings.

Despite the ominous admonitions of Leviticus 19:28, which forbade the marking of one's flesh, tattoos had become a rite of passage shared by millions of people in the modern age--everyone from clean-cut teenagers to hard-core drug users to “slayQueens" tribes of  housewives.

The act of tattooing one's skin was a transformative declaration of power, an announcement to the world: I am in control of my own flesh. The intoxicating feeling of control derived from physical transformation had addicted millions to flesh-altering practices . . . cosmetic surgery, body piercing, bodybuilding, and steroids . . . even bulimia and transgendering. The human spirit craves mastery over its carnal bodies.

When the clock announced 5.30pm he Left his tools, wrapped the Arab silk robe around his naked, six-foot-three body and strode down the hall. The air inside this sprawling mansion was heavy with the pungent fragrance of his skin dyes and smoke from the beeswax candles he used to sterilize his needles. The towering young man moved down the corridor past priceless collection of African antiques… The Benin Bronzes, which are actually made of brass, a collection of delicately made sculptures and plaques that adorned the royal palace of the Oba, Ovonramwen Nogbaisi, in the Kingdom of Benin, masks , statutes carved out of ivory, brass, ceramic and wood.

He glanced through a floor-to-ceiling window as he passed, admiring the classical skyline in the distance. The State House glowed with solemn power against the dark firmament .

That is where it is hidden, he thought. It is buried out there somewhere.

Only him knew he had more than one assignment, the governors assignment will foster the second. 

*** ***     ***     *** *** *** ***      ****

Few men knew it existed . . . and even fewer knew its awesome power or the ingenious way in which it had been hidden. To this day, it remained this country's greatest untold secret. Those few who did know the truth kept it hidden behind a veil of symbols and allegory.

Now they have opened their doors to me, Kabaka thought.

 

A fortnight ago, in a dark ritual witnessed by the country most influential men, kabaka had ascended to the twenty-forth degree, the highest echelon of the Country’s oldest surviving brotherhood. Despite Kabaka’s new rank, the brethren had told him nothing. Nor will they, he knew. That was not how it worked. There were circles within circles . . . brotherhoods within brotherhoods …and  caucus within caucus. Even if Kabaka waited years, he might never earn their ultimate trust.

Fortunately, he did not need their trust to obtain their deepest secret. His initiation served its purpose.

Now, energized by what lay ahead, he strode toward his bedroom. Throughout his entire home, audio speakers broadcast a rare Arab country music with a mythical rhythm. Then, against a backdrop of crashing timpani and parallel fifths, he bounded up the red carpeted marble staircase, his robe billowing as he ascended on athletic legs.

As he ran, his empty stomach growled in protest. For two days now, Kabaka had fasted, consuming only water, preparing his body in accordance with the ancient ways. Your hunger and pain will be satisfied by dawn, as long as he sets forth at dawn!

Kabaka entered his bedroom sanctuary with reverence, locking the door behind him. As he moved toward his dressing area, he paused, feeling himself drawn to the enormous ruggedly mounted mirror. Unable to resist, he turned and faced his own reflection. Slowly, as if unwrapping a priceless gift, He opened his robe to unveil his naked form. The vision awed him.

I am a masterpiece.

His massive body was shaved and smooth. He lowered his gaze first to his feet, which were tattooed with the scales and talons of a hawk. Above that, his muscular legs were tattooed as carved pillars--his left leg spiraled and his right vertically striated. His groin and abdomen formed a decorated archway, above which his powerful chest was emblazoned with the double-headed phoenix . . . each head in profile with its visible eye formed by one of his nipples. His shoulders, neck, face, and shaved head were completely covered with an intricate tapestry of ancient symbols and sigils.

“I’m a rare specie . . an evolving orisa.

One mortal man had seen Kabaka naked, eighteen hours earlier. The man had shouted in fear. "blood of Jesus! You are a demon", in one breath. 

"If you perceive me as such," Kabaka had replied, understanding as had the ancients that angels and demons were identical--interchangeable archetypes--all a matter of polarity: the guardian angel who conquered your enemy in battle was perceived by your enemy as a demon destroyer.

He tipped his face down now and got an oblique view of the top of his head. There, within the crownlike halo, shone a small circle of pale, untattooed flesh. This carefully gguarded part was his only remaining piece of virgin skin. The sacred space had waited patiently . . . and tonight, it would be filled. Although he did not yet possess what he required to complete his masterpiece, he knew the moment was fast approaching.

Exhilarated by his reflection, he could already feel his power growing. He closed his robe and walked to the window, again gazing out at the mystical city before him. It is buried out there somewhere.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he went to his dressing table and carefully applied a base of concealer makeup to his face, scalp, and neck until his tattoos had disappeared. Then he donned the special set of clothing and other items he had meticulously prepared for this evening. When he finished, he checked himself in the mirror. Satisfied, he ran a soft palm across his smooth scalp and smiled.

It is out there, he thought. And tonight, one man will help me find it.

As Kabaka exited his home, he prepared himself for the event that would soon shake the State House. He had gone to enormous lengths to arrange all the pieces for tonight.

And now his target is within reach.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

“…fellow Nigerians it’s with a deep heart that I condemn this dastardly act perpetrated by this Sambisa insurgents. I herewith instruct the military Chiefs to immediately relocate to the North East to put a final stop to these killings.  Enough is Enough!”…

Just as the president’s solemn address came to an abrupt summit, Captain Dalong walked into the Eagle’s House. The defense minister was puffing away his Cuba cigarettes.  The bl flat bottomed porcelain shaped like Enugu mortar was emitting fogs of smoke. The one-eyed minister took another drag as thick amber-colored smoke leaves his two nostrils like the double exhaust pipes of the popular Lagos more. A hard stare on the doorway that has just admitted Captain Dalong brought him to attention. 

“Shun sir!” he gave a military salute to the hard and terrific officer.

Still standing gallantly and towering over the semi-circular desk with reflecting red and white colors, the one-eyed chief motion him to sit. 

“My home has been destroyed and my mother has been kidnapped, what’s happening in this country?

The rhetorical question from this senior officer sparks up questions Captain Dalong has asked himself on several occasions. 

“Do we still have security in this land? The defense boss added.

Captain Dalong was now more bewildered.  

“who are the security operatives , aren’t you the defense minister? Was the question that almost jumped out of his mouth. Captain Dalong instead shook his head left and right as as if to dispel the pressure in his head.

“Imagine that audacity in the insipid address “, do you know its just an official statement and nothing more?” 

“How many times do we have to say we condemn an act perpetrated by criminal elements.  As if saying he condemns it will put an end to this menace .”

“if I may, sir",

His boss waved. 

I think the president means it this time. 

“spare me that bullshit". Who will help me find my mother?

“This so called chiefs ?”

I can’t even implore them to help search for her. The presidency will not allow us to talk. They will prefer we suffer in silence.

“They will never take responsibil…”

The Defense boss seems to come to caught himself as he could not complete his sentence. 

Captain Dalong found the answer to his numerous questions bothering his mind.

“Responsibility “

How come he didn’t realize that not taking responsibility has been the problem of this government?

The persistent blame games from one dispensation to another?

The boss was quiet now. He was fidgeting. Looking at the circular décor on his pop ceiling and the award plaques that adorned his brown wooden shelf. 

“Imagine you are driving a  car and you could see a gully ahead, even when you did not pay attention to it or even noticed it, your passengers admonish you. You careless drove and crashed into this wide and deep gully resulting in fatalities. Yet as the driver you blame the past administration for not applying the brakes!!”

This is the case Sir.

The Defense minister stood to his feet and look sternly at Captain Dalong who has also jumped to his feet.

“Captain”

“Sir"!!

Your analogy said it all. 

“And I told told my third wife to take my mother to Div.2 barracks or Jaji but hajia will not bulge. Look at it now"

He said pointing at the 45" plasma television mounted at  the left side of his squared office.  

Captain Dalong shook his head for the umpteenth time, the news had broken the news.

She died yesterday!

 

***    ****    ****    **** **** **** 

 

As soon as Major General Dongoyaro entered what will be his regimental office for the next few months, Sergeant Agwai announced that he had a visitor. He took a scornful look at his Aid de camp as if to say “ are you for real?“

The junior officer took a step forward to his near empty desk with dusty cabinets begging to be cleaned. 

He placed the black suit case of the boss on the side of the cabinets. 

Still at attention,  he reiterated,  “ You have a visitor sir"

“And who is it"

“He is at the secretary’s office sir!”

“Are you normal, is Secretary office a name?”

Major general Dongoyaro was visibly angry. He cooed out to Agwai. 

“Get me the name or I pass a bullet through your ears.”

In a split second Sergeant Agwai marched out of the office. Before he was deployed from Auchi to become the ADC to major general Dongoyaro,  he had been given his file. The signal from the Eagle’s House specifically warned against  “nonchalant attitudes “.

It was rumored in Nikoho barracks when he broke the news that his new boss never missed a shot. He has been an Artillery brigade commander at different times.  He had trained renowned snippers and even white military attaché in special weapons handling.  He supervises shooting range in Wudil Depot.

Sergeant Agwai had no iota of doubt that his left or right ear could be riddled with .22 caliber fires.

“ file of the visitor is required at once", he announced to the chubby uniform secretary. 

He threw a quick glance at the two men sitting opposite the secretary.

The one with the flowing agbada that encroach the green carpet of the air-conditioned office seems familiar. 

He nevertheless kept straight face as he flip through the file.

His eyes caught a brown sealed envelope that lies at the center of the thick two layered file.

He walked briskly away from the office. 

Once he was facing his boss, he saluted and ignored the outstretched hand of his boss to the file.

“security risk suspected sir!

What?

“Let me have the ffile", can you hear me?

“Lima charlie, “File needs to be screened sir!

 

Sergeant Agwai brought out Quartz Crystal Microbalance (QCM) device and slowly pass it around the rectangular file , back and front ensuring little or no friction. 

“Cleared sir" , he said placing the file on the now cleaned desk.

Sergeant Agwai is an acclaimed ADC who has worked closely with several governor’s.  He was the ADC to the ex governor of Bendel state. The former governor had recommended him for top assignments. 

The parcel reminded him of Dele Giwa. He waved the stout and blue dressed Cleaner off

He shot the door against him.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Agbo was becoming impatient and he whispered to his personal assistant .

The PA took quick steps towards the writing secretary . He tap her desk and spoke in hush tune, “his excellency wants to see the major general please"

“Oh! I I thought you came to see me “,he answered sarcastically as she stopped her writing and looked sternly at the PA.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you saw me hand his file to the ADC”, 

“Don’t you know this is rather early.  Its just  0740hrs. Besides you are his first visitor on his first day at office.  Tell your boss to be patient or you excuse yourself!

“ it’s the Governor we are talking about “

“Excuse me,  you meant to say  impeached former Governor”, the secretary corrected. 

The was an uneasy silence.  Governor Agbo felt bad.

He could recall instances where visitors Visitors will wait all day to see him and he will tell his PA or secretary to dismiss them even when he is not busy.

“Life is truly transient,”  he admitted to himself. 

Shortly after his soliloquy ,  he was invited into see the major general. 

It was about 08:00am when the PA was invited to join his boss. He handed a brief case to Mr Agbo.

He is tall man with powerful shoulders, a fierce dark face, and eyes that seemed to flash and glitter with savage laughter. It was a face to be dominated by, or to fight: never a face to patronize or pity. All his movements were large not just for his flowing agbada but also perfectly balanced, like those of a wild animal, and when he appeared in a room like this, he seemed a wild animal held in a cage too small for it.

Major General Dongoyaro whispered to his ADC. 

And the duo where left alone to continue their dialogue. 

“One good turn deserves another, it’s within your powers to save the day.

My name is at stake if I don’t remain here” , Mr Agbo pleaded.

“This is a national assignment Mr Governor, and the government is counting on me to restore peace.”

“I promise to be more careful “

“The people will decide"

“Decide?

“Haba, you know power belongs to the people”

“My enemies will not even allow me near the electoral commission office,  let alone be allowed to run in the election.”

“The allegations against you are still  being investigated , the general commented. 

There are no allegations, I didn’t know that woman is married to an enemy of mine, Mr agbo replied in a barely audible tune.

“We have had several flings ,frolicking and all right here, I mean , you know…

“It alright Agbo, we have known each other for long I will see what I can do, give me time

“Time is what we don’t have “

“Remember,  the ties we share, Mr Agbo pleaded more.

“Hmmm", the major general sighed .

Mr Agbo leaned across the desk and whispered in his ears.

“Ghaskia, ba kwomi “, major general concluded.

 

***   ***  *** **** ***

The speaker of the State House of assembly was his last visitor.  Major General Dongoyaro was not please with the reality on ground.  

The intelligence he came with is certainly not the one he could see. There seems to be more that meets his bulging eyes. Although he had told his ADC he would no longer see any visitor,  he however gave the speaker a chance.

A clear  perspective that buttressed what Mr Agbo confided in him.  The country is on timed bomb if nothing is done fast.

For the first time he realized the state house of assembly has two speakers. 

He called his ADC.

Efforts to reached the presidency proved abortive. His calls here not answered. 

He called the office of the CSO to the president. 

“What’s happening?”

Its “radio silence sir!”

Something is wrong somewhere.  Many things are not adding up. 

Sergeant Agwai nodded in agreement despite not having the complete facts. But with all he had decided.

The state of emergency declared in the state is nothing but a hoax.

 

****    ****    *** ***** 

The chief judge of the Sunshine State was on the platform with major general Dongoyaro. 

The impeached speaker and Mr Agbo where also seated.

The press conference was scheduled for 6:00pm .

Major General Dongoyaro cleared his throat immediately he realign one of the microphones facing him.

“Today I address you not just in my capacity as the acting Governor of this great state that has been  plunged into a chaos but also as a Compatriot.

The last twenty four hours since I landed in this great state that has become the shadow its former self  , I have been able to  unravel a major cause of the brouhaha that has envelope this state.

The country already has her own insecurity challenges, and regional unrest,  local inrestvi dare say will not be tolerated. 

Considering the current recession and economic downturn in the country,  it will be a waste of scarce resources conducting fresh elections,  I would therefore  ,with the power

Conferred on me by the president and commander in chief of the federal armed forces asked that oat of office should be administered to Mr Agbo by the honorable Chief judge. 

Whereas instruction has been received for reversal to Democracy I hereby declared 24hrs curfew with immediate effect “

The chief judge stood up and motion the Mr Agbo to take come forward to take his oat of office.  

Major General Dongoyaro stepped back to allow the process of the administration of allegiance vows.

The press men with their cameras adjusted the life transmission routers.

Just that moment, the conference room was plunged into thick darkness!

The story starts here