Kamala Harris is world famous, but not particularly popular at this time. Had she won the elections, the story would have been different.
So, ordinarily, it is not a wonderful time to associate oneself with such a figure; yet I share something with that woman, now an unpopular political character.
It’s shocking to see how people who have talked you up and urged you on would stand by and gleefully watch you beaten in the same fight they pushed you into.
You’re left to wonder if their original intention was to see you beaten and even destroyed.
Betrayal doesn’t taste good. However, even the betrayal becomes secondary when you’re focused on your conviction to fight.
Fight, not because you have been talked into it; fight, if and when you have to, because you’re convinced of the reason for the fight. Every fight is fueled by conviction.
I was the feeble one when I attacked Chukwudi Okafor on that fateful day in WTC Primary School, Enugu.
Feeble, but fueled by the conviction that if I didn’t fight, Chukwudi was going to maim my brother, Victor.
Now, Victor, like me, was given to rushing into fights because he was a lover of justice. Justice and fight are like identical twins. If you are a lover of justice, fights are seldom far from you.
Often, Victor won his fights, but that deceptive winning streak must have led him into taking on Chukwudi, a notorious school bully, clearly more ferocious than Victor’s previous opponents.
When I arrived the scene, he had Victor’s neck locked under his armpit. As they say in Nigeria these days, my brother was “going through a lot.” When Victor heard my voice, a burst of fresh energy enabled him to lift Chukwudi’s left leg. I went straight for the right leg, and in a moment, the notorious school bully was up in the air, and together, my brother and I headed for the nearby compost pit. We were going to dump him in the dust bin.
If you have ever seen the carcass of a big insect, being transported by a community of ants, then you have a clear picture of Chukwudi Okafor, being transported by the ant-like pair of Victor and myself to the dustbin.
The tumultuous ovation of the entire school community was so energizing that his mid-air kicking and thrashing could not deter us. The pupils screamed their hearts out in joy!
Indeed, they were overjoyed that someone had finally shown up to curb Chukwudi’s terrorist excesses.
Apart from saving my brother, I was on my way to becoming a school hero, so I imagined.
When we got to the tip of the compost pit, we heaved the bulk of Chukwudi Okafor, the school bully, into the pit.
The thunderous explosion of applause that followed was deafening, exhilarating …but fatally misleading.
It made me pause awhile to savor the moment, enjoying the admiration of fellow pupils; a costly tactical error.
The untimely celebration of victory hardly lasted a full minute; it was cut short because Chukwudi, like a desperate spider, was scrambling out of the pit almost as fast as he got in there.
I looked around and realized that Victor had taken off.
Victor was not a sprinter back in school. It was the danger of the moment that propelled him into that speedy dash of Olympic magnitude. There was no way I could catch up. Then I looked back. Lord, Jesus! Chukwudi was out of the pit.
Too late for me to attempt a dash.
That was about the last thing I could recall …
By the time Chukwudi was done with me, my right eye was too swollen to see, so through the left, I searched the faces of the people around me, but found little empathy.
I swear, some were even grinning!
Were these not the same fellows who applauded my heroism a while ago? Treacherous humanity. “Hossanah”, in a moment; “crucify him”, the next.
The same news media whose polls favored Kamala Harris to win are now telling the world what she did wrong.
Did they tell her what she was doing wrong before the elections?
Human love is fickle; it’s like a dry stick. Don’t lean on it. Ask Jesus.
Ask Kamala.
It was a long walk home from school that day. Did I just say “walk”? I limped home slowly. Honestly , I felt nothing against Chukwudi Okafor; only these made-in-hell mockers who … Mtcheew!!!
Look at me! I’m supposed to be telling you about my soon-to-be-released music album.
Is it not this Trump and Kamala thing that reminded me of Chukwudi Okafor?
My only joy was that I fought a good fight…
