PARODY WITH DR. IYKE EZEUGO: The E-Mailed Prayer; Have you received yours?
By Iyke Ezeugo
Now, the masses eagerly await that prayer from the Senate President in our email inboxes
Let’s not forget how it all began. Remember when the Senate chamber’s mahogany doors closed with a sense of finality in late 2023, sealing the polished pronouncements and practiced posturing within? The recess, a coveted departure from the theater of “lawmaking,” loomed large. Senatorial shoulders visibly relaxed, anticipation crackling in the air thick with the usual bigman laughter sounds without the natural accompanying smiles, the pretentious friendly backslapping and handshakes, and the scent of expensive cologne thickening the air and stale promises lacing from the inner chambers of their hearts.
The Senate President, HE, Dist. Sen. Godswill Akpabio, alongside his colleagues – figures more renowned for legislative benefits’ oversight, political maneuvering, and sartorial splendor than substantive policies – sat while the president rose with a flourish. His voice, normally an on-the-surface soft but firm authoritative tone, held a touch too much theatricality. “My esteemed colleagues,” he boomed, “the time for rejuvenation has arrived! To ensure your well-being during this recess, we have…” He paused, a beat too long, a bead of sweat betraying the pressure of a well-timed announcement. A collective intake of breath rippled through the chamber. Years of experience had honed their instincts for the grand gesture, the one that would solidify their positions as benevolent shepherds of the national flock. No, national cake bakers, cutters, sharers, no, eaters, I meant to say.
Would it be a personal masseuse voucher delivered discreetly to their palatial estates, Holiday vouchers to the Bahamas, new armored SUVs, cheques for the hired mistresses and chaperons during the holiday, or the outstanding Constituency ‘projects’ allocations’ payment? Perhaps a lifetime supply of ethically-questionable caviar, a silent nod to their discerning palates? “…allocated a generous disbursement of monies to your respective accounts!” he declared, a touch too triumphantly. The chamber fell silent. Faces, previously aglow with anticipation, contorted in a silent ballet of disbelief, and perhaps not sure whether the monies will make any sense in view of their over-enlarged appetite and expenditure profile. The biggest worry, however, was that it wasn’t an absolute closed-door meeting: the senior special aides, the camera men, the caterers, the tea or service girls, audio control and IT staff were present and possibly attentive. The implications seemed the biggest side of the worries for anyone or thing that cares about what the Senators care about. Even the air conditioning seemed to sputter in disapproval; of course, not of the provisions but the announcement that had somewhat become public knowledge.
Then, a cough, a dry, humorless sound from the elderly, and shuffling of feet mostly from the younger and normal-weight senators cut through the tension. Distinguished Senator North-north, one of the rising stars with a reputation for biting wit and unwavering superficial integrity, dared to break the stunned silence. “Mr. President,” he began, his voice laced with practiced diplomacy, “with all due respect to your well-intentioned announcement, did I hear you well?” The Senior Legislative Aide (SLA) moved swiftly and got the president’s ear on the left side, ‘it’s not said that way in the open. Please, Sir, change it’, he whispered. ‘Change what!’ ‘The MONEY’ he replied, ‘which money?’ the president retorted. ‘The one you just announced that was sent to their accounts for the recess’. ‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!! Thank you!!!’ The President tried to maintain a flawless facial facade to mask the inner worry as he thanked profusely. He appears to have benefited immensely from body language coaching at the moment.
While the above interactions happened between the President and his SLA in split seconds, a collective gasp escaped the assembled dignitaries. Ahh! This man self! Does he forget himself? Had the new President forgotten the cardinal rule? *Discretion!* The crimson hue creeping up the President’s neck was a stark contrast to his pristine cream caftan. “Ahem,” he coughed, a sound uncharacteristically devoid of authority, “clearly, there has been a most unfortunate misunderstanding! What I meant to say was…” His eyes darted around the room, searching for inspiration in the opulent chandeliers that twinkled like displaced dying stars. Suddenly, a flicker of desperation ignited in his gaze. “Prayers!” he exclaimed, his voice gaining a shade of misplaced conviction. “Yes, prayers! We have dispatched heartfelt prayers to your esteemed email inboxes, guaranteed to bring forth prosperity during your well-deserved break!” A wave of relief washed over the chamber, erasing the momentary disquiet. Prayers! Now that was a perk they could readily endorse and associate with when the doors are open and the illumination becomes brighter.
After all, which Bigman wouldn’t appreciate divine protection when even a short trip from home to the airport had become a nightmare? The hunger, the unemployment, bad governance, corruption, the crumbling infrastructure – all had fueled insecurity to unprecedented levels. Of course, which Bigman wouldn’t welcome divine intervention to bolster their already hefty bank accounts? The Distinguisheds leaned back in their plush chairs, a collective sigh of relief escaping their lips. At least they were spared the additional embarrassment.
Meanwhile, a mere stone’s throw away, in the starkly different reality of the streets, families huddled around flickering kerosene lamps, their emaciated children staring at a battered smartphone, their bellies rumbling in protest. A woman, her face etched with worry, scrolled through her empty inbox. No divine pronouncements, no financial windfalls, no email from the Clerk or the President himself, not even a text message, just a stark reminder of their forgotten reality – a constant stream of debit alerts, bank charges, and overdue payment reminders.
The irony, however, was lost on the Distinguisheds basking in the digital glow of their “blessings.” Oblivious to the chasm between their self-serving pronouncements and the desperate pleas of the very people they were sworn to represent, they remained comfortably ensconced in their gilded cage.
The next morning, the facade crumbled. A disgruntled IT technician, despite his own “cut,” couldn’t stomach the blatant disregard. He leaked a recording of the President’s initial “monies” gaffe. Public outcry turned into a digital tsunami. #EmailedPrayers became a rallying cry, a symbol of the government’s apathy. Some people genuinely checked their emails, a testament to both hope and gullibility. Who could blame them? In their nation, anything seemed possible, especially when it came to money and the powerful.
Empty inboxes brought more despair than comfort. Ordinary citizens, for the first time, found solace in shared cynicism. Memes and jokes flooded the internet, each one a searing indictment. The Senate, scrambling for damage control, resorted to an even more outlandish claim – the prayers were “premium,” guaranteed to work only if opened within 24 hours. Their PR campaigns and hired writers only intensified the ridicule.
The “emailed prayers” became a symbol of everything wrong with the government: delusional, out of touch, and utterly ridiculous. It wasn’t the lack of money, but the sheer absurdity that almost brought down the leadership. However, self-preservation trumped shame. Our Bigmen, even when their reputation becomes credibly tarnished, the remain in power.
As for the blessings, their efficacy remained unproven for everyone. The Senators still craved more, and the commoners’ inboxes remained empty.
Nevertheless, a seed of hope had been sown. The power of collective voice, amplified by social media, resonated. Though not a revolution, it was a spark. Ordinary people, for the first time, saw the potential of outrage, humor, and unity.
The “emailed prayers” became a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the powerful could stumble. It sparked a conversation, a collective awakening. Perhaps, in the future, voter registration will soar, and there will be a clear sign that the people are ready to take control. The fight for a better future, fueled not by divine intervention but by a desire for justice, responsible leadership and equality, will gain momentum. Perhaps. The road ahead is definitely long, but the faint glow of hope flickered brighter.
The “emailed prayers” may have been a cruel joke, but the laughter that followed was a roar, a roar demanding to be heard and a promise of change. At least change of the ‘who cares’ and ‘nog my business’ attitude. There is no doubt that this was just the beginning, a flicker that would one day ignite a fire in the hearts of the people, burning bright enough to illuminate the path towards a brighter future.
For further discussion on this parody, contact Dr. Iyke Ezeugo at iykye@yahoo.com.
