Man of the People

We were a blocks over from the cinema, wandering aimlessly near the road.  Myself and my friend debated the virtues of the latest comic-to-film conversion.  I asserted that by the standards of its genre this film exceeded acceptable levels of cheesiness.  He concurred.  He asserted that the lead actor was not very well chosen.  I concurred.  We came to a mutual decision not to see the film again and then carried on marching down the road.  The grey soulless mass of the out of town shopping centre and its neighbouring outposts of megastores looked back at us impassively.  Only a few moments ago we sought to escape the mass via the local bus service.  But alas, the timetable at the stop condemned us to wait for three quarters of an hour. Three quarters of an hour, with nothing but the random urchins on bikes scurrying in the subway nearby to entertain us.  So we marched on down the road.

 

As we marched down the road we discussed how our evening should end.  We came to the mutual decision that an evening of playing multiplayer into the early hours was a fitting activity to end our day, and start our morning.  Perhaps with an accompaniment of take-away pizza.  Such is student life.  None of us really had a clue what we were doing.  Home was a good 5 miles away, but still we took to the road, relying on some kind of deliverance from it.  Then deliverance came....of sorts.

 

A large maroon four by four with tinted windows slowly pulled up next to us.  As myself and my friend exchanged a mutual glance, a window lowered.  

“Hey you sir!” A voice emanated from inside the vehicle.  My friend went over to investigate.

“Yeah?”

“I am looking for the University Campus.  Do you know I can get there from here?” The man enquired as I wandered over to see him.  I could hear the distinct sound of a map being unfolded.

“Uh yeah, let me take a look man..” my friend said hesitantly as he leaned into the car to inspect the map.

I could see a bald and powerfully built black man peering over his glasses at the map.  Highlighted streets and main roads littered the map. My friend and he started muttering to each other and nodded knowingly at each other's mutterings.

“Hmm I see.”  The man nodded definitively.

I wasn’t sure how close exactly my friend was to getting this man to where he wanted to go, but he seemed to be in control of things.  I leaned against the guard rail next to the road and allowed my mind to wonder.

 

“What do you think?”  My friend snapped me out of my reverie.

“What do I think of...what?”  I replied in a daze.

“He is going where we need to go. More or less.  He wants to get to University Campus, we aren’t too far from there.  He says it is cool if he gives us a ride and we can guide him there.”

I felt a bit bad that we had basically hired this man as a free taxi service while I had barely talked to him.  I felt some clarification was needed with this seemingly helpful stranger.

“Are you sure this is OK? We don’t want to impose on you.”  I hesitantly enquired.

“Yes absolutely fine.  Get in”.  He nodded with an expression akin to someone closing a business deal.  It was as though that picking hitchhikers up was a regular event for him.  So we got in.

 

After the brief hubbub of getting in the car and my friend giving the man the first set of directions there was a period of calm.  I took in my surroundings.  The four by four was neat.  I suspected it was newly rented.  I gazed outside the window for a few seconds and saw the shopping centre disappear into the night.  Eventually my gaze turned to the driver.  He was wearing a purple shirt, possibly ironed.  In the rear view mirror I could see more of his face.  He still wore the serious expression he had when we agreed to the hitchhiking arrangement.  He had a fairly bushy but neatly shaped beard.  All of a sudden his gaze fixed on me.  I got the sense he was studying me.  A bit like how someone would size up an animal from a reasonable distance.  I got the distinct impression he was assessing me; was I a friend or a foe?

 

“So you are students?”  I caught a glimpse of a smile appearing on the man's in the rear view mirror.

“Yeah man.”  My friend responded in a jovial way.  It was more like he was talking to someone he had just met on his course than a random stranger.

“So what is it you study?”  The man asked my friend.  His voice seemed a bit lighter, hinting that he was letting his business-like guard slip a bit.

“Psychology."

“Psychology eh?  Hmmm very interesting.  Can you read my mind.  Haha!”  The man chuckled to himself.  He seemed to show genuine interest in my friend’s response in addition to lightening up a bit more.  I started to feel more at ease.

“We haven’t covered mind reading yet.  I am guessing that will be in the next semester.”

The man returned a polite smile to my friends’ joke.  A few seconds after he stopped chuckling his gaze returned to me.

“And you?  What do you study?”

“Politics and International Relations.”

The smile disappeared.  His fists tightened, strangling the steering wheel.  His head lowered in determined rage.   He seemed almost in a trance.  “Not politics" he hissed.

 

“Not politics!”  The man let out in a short roar.

The large environment of the four by four seemed far too small to contain his explosive rage.  We may as well have been packed into a Mini, since I would have scarcely been less terrified.  Finally the man seemed to regain his composure.  The steering wheel was given breathing room.  The smile was gone forever.  But when he raised its head it was in a manner that told me that he had something important to say.  A small part of me wondered whether what he had to tell me would determine whether I got to my destination or ended up beaten and dead in a warehouse.  And so he cleared his throat and I prepared to listen.

“Listen friend.  Let me tell you about politics.  It is a dangerous game”.

“Dangerous how?”  I asked cautiously.  I may as well have shouted it given the reaction I got.

“How?  How?  My young friend you have a lot to learn.  One day you go in to a life in politics, with big dreams and big ideas.  Then one thing moves to the other.  Things get heated you know.  You have an idea of calling and then things start getting complicated.  Then you have to kill your best friend.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me my friend!  Sooner or later it is kill or be killed out there.  Friends become enemies and enemies become friends.  Then your friends men come to take you down.  But you have to take him down first.  Because you are smart.  You are the first to pounce.  You sleep with a Kalashnikov next to your bed.  Because you are a man of the people.”

He gesticulated violently when driving.  Jabbing with his finger wildly each time he said ‘you’.  His eyes seemed to be opening up wider and wider.  He started to thump the steering wheel as though it was a lectern.  For a minute I felt like I was transported to a rally with some sort of coup leader delivering a thundering speech.  His podium became a wooden lectern creaking and withering under the assaulting pounds of his fists.  I could almost feel the bloodthirsty supporters at the rally brushing up against me in the speaking hall, their roars of support getting louder.

“'Man of the people'?  Um well its good you have strong convictions.”  I said meekly.  I got the feeling anything I said after that tirade would look rather weak, but I felt it polite to show that I was listening.  I strained to see how my friend was responding to this performance.

"You are damn straight that I have strong convictions my brother!  You have to be as strong as an ox and as quick as a fox!  Move before your opponent moves and kill before they kill. It is the only way for me.  How else am I to be President of Nigeria?"

I went numb at the last part.  What struck me most was how he just threw it out causally, as though that is the next place he was going after he dropped myself and my friend off, in god knows what condition.  First stop Bristol!  Next stop Abuja!  As I turned my gaze over to the window, to see the rainy and grey scenery of North Bristol past me by I caught a glimpse of my friend.  A long and tall fellow, he seemed to cling to the front passenger's seat like an escaped prisoner trying to a avoid a search light.  His jovial manner seemed to have been by the man's tirade.  He seemed to be delegating speaking responsibilities to myself.  My response would likely make the difference between us living or appearing in a footnote in a book called 'Craziest Dictators'.  I cleared my throat.

"President of Nigeria!  Wow, that is certainly ambitious.  So, please tell me what would you plan to do once when you take office?"

 

The man let out a sigh and seemed to shake off the anger.  The steering wheel seemed to sigh with relief as his vice like grip loosened.  His whole body seemed to relax so he seemed to get taller in his seat.  When he spoke it was with an air of calm that I had heard at the start of our journey.  As he spoke he seemed to have made the miraculous transition from Idi Amin to Nelson Mandela.

"Ah, an excellent question my friend."  He seemed to seriously be pondering my question.  For a few seconds the car was quiet.  Almost as though a short space of time was needed to deflate the tension out of the vehicle".

"Well first I will cart those thieves, murderers, traitors and all of the other vipers out of the temple!" Myself and my friend tensed momentarily as we caught a glimpse of the rebellious insurgent again.  Then he seemed to find his inner calm again and so did we.

"Then I would set about making sure that work pays, you know?  A minimum wage, just like you have over here and not just mere crumbs.  Then I guess the schools are next, give them some funding and make sure the kiddies are being taught right. Then sort out the crooked bastards in the police.  I'll kick out the gangsters on pay and reward the good ones."

 

I smiled at the simplicity and modesty at his vision.  He seemed to be embarrassed about his vision.

"Well that sounds very noble.  And certainly achievable."   Perhaps boot licking is my way out of this after all.

"Ah, I know it's nothing big.  But that's not what I want man.  When my country became independent it had so much hope.  You know?  This was our chance to do things properly.  For us to just get on with our lives.  Now what do we have? " 

 

His words trailed on but I know the point he was trying to make.    I nodded gently in silent agreement.  I started to wonder if I had misjudged our mysterious host.  I was trying to size him up psychologically.  Which came first?  The seemingly psychotic rage or the hopeful visionary.  Did one create the other.  But before I could answer any of those questions, we stopped and our journey ended.

"This is where you boys want to be dropped off right?"  The man asked the question in a very business-like manner.

 

"Um yeah that's right man.  Thanks for the lift!"  My friend said evidently finding his voice again.

I couldn't believe it!  We had made it and we were still alive.  Before I knew it we were out of the car and my friend was giving our host directions to his destination.  After the brief exchange I was caught completely off guard as the man gave me a fist bump.  I clumsily turned my outstretched handshake hand into a fist and feebly returned the gesture, instantly becoming a very stereotypical provincial Brit.  And then he was off.

 

I turned to my friend who looked a bit dazed like myself as we gazed at the four by four disappearing into the distance.

"Was that as strange for you as it was for me?"  I asked my friend.

He shrugged and we started the walk to our house.

"Only in Bristol" I thought.