Elective Dictatorship

Farook Abdul-karim Sesay, writer. Poet. Legal advisor. Political commentator

We didn’t hear or see. Nor care. About the gunshots. Neither the stampede of crunching boots. Or the RPGs/ We only saw long queues. Some patient. Others restless. A few restive. Waiting to cast their votes. If only we knew! That our hopes will turn into democracy refugees/

We fought. Against our base instincts. We resisted. The need to take up arms. For violence had only bequeathed us mass graves/ we believed what they told us. That legitimate power is only through the ballot box. Not the bullet. And, we waited.Trusted. Prayed. That we will no longer be slaves/

The olive green fatigues fumed. Their holsters hung limp and heavy. Watching. Like vultures over the lying dead. Waiting. Desperate for excuses to plunder/ yet we stood our ground! Believing in our moral guarantors. Our godfathers. Our mentors. That those we trusted are right. When they spoke. That even rumbles of discord will put us asunder/

We cast our votes. For separate reasons. Though some for no reason. Others for what they were told!/ as the sun pierced and roasted our delirious skins. Brows beaten into furrows. Each with our own secrets. Who we soiled our inked thumbs for. For some are ashamed. Because their votes were sullied. Sold/

Now the honeymoon is long gone. No brave new world in the horizon. Just the same old same. Like mimic men. Repressions. Justice raped. Social contract dissolved. Reneged on. We see no olive green uniforms. No bazookas. Not one crunching boot/ confused we look around. Only a sea of dark rotund faces. Oily smiles. Juxtaposed with grimaces. Copulence. Forged out of the flames of stolen opulence. Astounded. We saw now bounty hunters. Who had an agenda. A mission. Their vision was to loot/

Our votes have betrayed us. Made them not of our own. They became soldiers of fortune. Their sworn words now swords of unbridled power! Behold! Wolves that were in sheepskin/ Daytime Caligulas and twilight vampires. Emperors with castles built out of our trusted votes. Not by armies. Now surrounded by their Kith and kin/

Our votes were meant to vilify the scourges of parisan politics. Votes cast in secrecy to openly defy dictatorship. In olive green khaki. Our wait in the long queues was to purge perfidy. Not conceive monsters! We voted for succour. Not for rancour/ but we now watch as we see our votes become nothingness. A poisoned chalice. That we had drunk from. Votes now unleashed against us. Making them invisible. Their feelings an invincible armour/

By the few. For the few. Of the few! Our votes beaten into stainless Steel of dangerous power. Our votes pulverised into grains of fetid fear/ pounded into lumps of tribal hate. Suffocated into admission of regrets. For we thought our votes would save us from spectres of all the yesterdays! Only to drag us into elective dictatorship. Such calumny. Such fouled irony! Alas! Our votes have lured us into their snares. Their putrid liar!/

Farook Abdul-karim Sesay

(*ELECTIVE DICTATORSHIP*)