-- How to Lose Respect in 30 Seconds --
Here comes the Great Minister,
boots shining like they swallowed the sun,
swagger heavier than his promises.
He walks as if every road
was carved by his family tree.
In his chest -- the drum of authority,
loud enough to scare respect away.
But the gate had its own ruler ,
not in title,
but in truth.
Young Yerima, iron in flesh,
naval blue sharper than morning light,
stood there with orders like stone walls.
He was not a man to bend for a politician’s shadow.
The Minister opened his mouth,
and insults poured out
like dirty water from a broken pipe.
“You are a fool"
His words were clouds without rain ,
-- loud, useless, and full of smoke.
Yerima’s answer was a mirror
that showed the Minister’s face clearly:
“I’m not a fóòl, sir.”
Once.
Twice.
Again and again,
until each word became a drumbeat in the street.
By the third time,
the Minister was no longer talking to one man ,
he was talking to the entire nation of fed-up souls.
of suffering faces.
The market women grinding pepper shouted it. "I am not a fool"
The taxi drivers stuck in potholes shouted it.
The jobless graduates holding brown envelopes shouted it.
Even the wind seemed to carry the reply:
“We are not your fóòls, sir!”
The air became a protest,
the ground an angry stage.
When Wike threw his insult,
it did not just land on Yerima’s shoulder.
It fell on every soldier who once stood in the rain for this country.
It bruised the badge,
the flag,
the anthem,
and the faint dignity left in our politics.
This is how bad leaders grow ,
feeding on praise from rented mouths,
watering themselves with arrogance.
They think the seat in their offices
is a throne from heaven.
They forget that public service
is not a license to spit on the public.
In the big theatre of the absurd called Nigeria,
politicians play kings,
soldiers guard gates,
citizens clap and cry at the same time.
Bad leaders rehearse insults,
instead of policies.
They know how to shout orders,
but cannot whisper hope.
The Minister’s crown slipped that day.
Yerima’s simple words
were a knife,
cutting through the cloth of false respect.
Every ruler who thinks the people are blind
should remember:
the people may be silent,
but silence has sharp teeth.
Minister Wike,
and every leader who confuses power for wisdom,
hear this before it’s too late:
Respect is not a gift you take,
it is a shadow you earn.
Your insult may be the seed of your downfall.
One day you will stand before the gate again,
and the people , uniformed or not ,
will look at you with calm eyes
and say in one voice:
“Sir, we are not your fóòls… and never were.”
EBIKABOWEI KEDIKUMO -- writes from Ayakoromo Town, Delta State
