When Prebendalism meets messianism — By Onyemaechi Ogbunwezeh

It was not totally an outback of irrelevance, but a capital of reckoning and imperial renown. It was one of the high days. It was a banquet of plangent wines, convoked in the highest corridors of power here. All the estates of the realm were present. The movers and shakers of the commonweal donned themselves in resplendent colors. Today and every other such day belong to these poor players, to fret and strut their hour upon the stage. Peacocks had nothing on the struts of these moral chameleons, on this day of days.

Power is such a violent and psychologically morbid construct. But that human beings under its influence and attraction, seem willing to abjure their humanity and celebrate orgies of death, dressed up in their most beautiful and ceremonial attires, has never comported itself understandingly to my mind. But that was the case on this day.

The realm polished its face, to host this imperial ball, where balls may be castrated, heads decapitated, or rebels crucified. The wives of the high and mighty also came. They sat prominently beside their masters, directly across those open secrets, who are the competition for their husbands´ phallic patronage. Both parties stared with murderous envy at the competition. The concubines, eye-balled the wives. The wives lost no opportunity to rub it into their faces, that the big dick sitting beside them, belongs to them.

The husbands and public dicks, in submission to imperial protocol, sat beside their wives, affecting matrimonial harmony while brazenly staring admiringly at their mistresses and kept vaginas. The wives, harlots, and concubines present, competed to outdress each other, while the men roamed the hall, with their eyes in search of new conquests for their phallic needs.

Such occasions are grottos of impunity. Such corridors of power, host every imaginable infraction that the human mind can invent; from petty politicking to high treason; from ribald immoralities to orgies in hidden grottos; from sacred pronouncements to grouchy iniquities, from trivial inquisitions to public executions, and from divine incantations to perfidious murders.

This is the summary of every corridor of absolute power.
Corridors of absolute power are vicious prebendalisms.

Prebendalisms are political constructs, where public officials have condemned themselves, never to distinguish between public coffers and their private purses. They use the former to fill the latter and spread enough gravy around to lubricate the consideration and purchase the consent of their friends, clique, and hangers-on.
That was the political situation on this day, as the realm celebrated the phallic insecurities and audacious adulteries of a Tetrarch in mid-life crisis.

As the DJ fired up the hall with groovy pieces, the realm stood up to dance. The atmosphere became rowdy and exploded as bodies gyrated to the music. Most of the wedded men, who have been itching the whole night, to ball their concubines, took the opportunity provided by the dance to disappear into secret passages for quickies. The wives, who could not be outdone in that secret business, also disappeared from the dance floor into the arms of the muscled guards and servants, they have also been secretly bedding, while their men, were away bedding concubines and mistresses.

As the dance was going on, hangers-on and arse-lickers were besieging the Tetrarch in his boot with their requests and syrupy praises.

There was everything for everyone on this night, as the daughter of the most prominent adulteress, servicing the Tetrarch took the floor to delight the realm.

She danced and danced!

The hall froze as the Tetrarch noticing, the commotion, rose in all his royalty. With a wave of the hand, the hall came to order. Heartbeats could be heard. Every movement froze. Only the daughter of the adulteress, whom the Tetrarch was grooming for future sexual reference, was smiling from ear to ear.

Like a drug addict, a man in thraldom to his dick would not bat an eyelid, in selling his kingdom to maintain his slavery to that heaven between the legs of a woman.

Our Tetrarch on this day was enslaved to his withered dick, on its way to the impotence, decreed by evolution. He is to that end, a slave to every juicy possibility that could remind him of his former potency or give him a fleeting second of feeling alive. This enslavement converted him into putty in the hands of the adulteress and her daughter, who is an adulteress-in-training.

Many could not understand how such a powerful Alpha dog, could be a grovelling and drooling slave to this pair. But they are not students of sadomasochist psychology. They would have realized that most powerful men, love to have women kick their arses in the bedroom to attain orgasm.

That was the configuration of forces on this day, as the Tetrarch rose to speak.

“Ask of me, whatever you will, and I will grant it here and now”, bellowed a man, whose brain has taken a French leave because his penis stood up in anticipation of an opportunity to play out his Lolita complex.

The adulteress´s daughter ran to a conference with her mother. As she emerged from her mother´s booth, a prophet lost his head.
When Prebendalism meets messianism, prophets are decapitated, and disruptors of the status quo, end up crucified in between thieves.

Nigeria is a very vicious prebendalism. Like Herod´s court of old, the rulers of the Nigerian realm are in a conference in this den of iniquity that the corridors of Nigeria power are, plotting for the head of the new disruptor of the status quo. They are planning a decapitation of Peter Obi and his movement.

This is what happens, whenever the oppressed have a chance of redeeming themselves, by flocking around a messianic figure. Prebendalism rises to do battle. But my joy resides in the fact, that he who is in the heavens, is laughing them to scorn. He has given us social media and camera phones. We can see and televise their iniquities to the world in real-time. We can checkmate their plans and rigging strategies. The stars are aligning for a new Nigeria.

This is Nigeria´s time of redemption.

Go vote for Peter Obi for President.

Gwazia ndi yard unu.

Kalu Idika

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