President James Ola was a figure deeply admired by the citizens of his nation. His electoral victory, which was secured by the highest number of votes in the country's history, unequivocally demonstrated his widespread popularity. He was a man of notable intellect, possessing a handsome countenance, a jovial disposition, and a balanced blend of firmness and compassion.
During a discussion about him, Bola had posited that it was precisely this combination of compassion and strictness that had so endeared him to the populace. Citizens gravitated towards leaders who mitigated the harsh realities of global challenges such as inflation and economic downturns. President James Ola's policies had demonstrably eased the financial burden of daily life for many.
He achieved a historic first by lowering the pump price of petroleum, a move that subsequently led to a reduction in the prices of essential commodities. Furthermore, he established a Price Control Commission, rigorously enforcing stipulated government prices and criminalizing profiteering. His compassionate nature was complemented by the unwavering strictness that ensured compliance with these new regulations. His administration's decisive stance against pervasive social ills like corruption, bribery, and even common bad habits such as littering, yielded significant positive changes across the nation.
President James Ola had once surprised the nation with his government's initiative to construct new correctional facilities and refurbish existing ones. When questioned on national television about the necessity of such an undertaking amidst other pressing needs, he articulated his desire to improve the lives of recalcitrant citizens, who, he anticipated, would soon require suitable shelter as they were removed from society to become better individuals. He asserted that even those who defied the law deserved care, just as the law-abiding did. His government, he maintained, had zero tolerance for crime and indiscipline, making it likely that a significant portion of the citizenry would require these centres for accommodation.
The news of the Lagos State Commissioner of Police's wife's passing reached President and Mrs. Ola late the previous night, causing considerable dismay. The deceased was a close acquaintance of the First Lady, a former secondary school classmate whose philanthropic contributions to the less privileged were unparalleled in the nation. Her death was not merely a familiar loss but a profound loss for the entire country.
The President relaxed in bed, having enjoyed two early morning cups of coffee. Beside him lay four national newspapers, his customary "daily tonic" before his morning ablutions. He valued reading the news as it provided him with crucial insights into the opinions and criticisms of both the general public and his political adversaries regarding his administration's performance. Additionally, he appreciated the burgeoning talent of the nation's young journalists, individuals striving for prominence, much like he had aspired to as a journalist himself years prior.
Having finished the first newspaper, whose editorial lauded his government's progress in improving national power generation, he set it aside and picked up the next. He was pleased that the persistent national power issue was gradually becoming a thing of the past, thanks to the recently established National Committee on Power, a body he had initiated less than two months prior. Achieving stable power supply nationwide would undoubtedly be another significant political victory for his ruling party.
Picking up the next newspaper, a headline immediately caught his eye: DOCTOR ARRESTED BY THE LAGOS STATE COMMISSIONER OF POLICE OVER WIFE'S DEATH.
"What! Honey, have you seen this?" the President asked his wife, who, despite her status as the First Lady, was diligently performing her domestic duties, carrying a tray of coffee towards the kitchen. The President turned the newspaper's front page for her to see the headline from where she stood.
"No, dear," the First Lady replied.
The Daily Voice newspaper held a position of pre-eminence in the nation, and its news reports were generally regarded as authoritative.
"This is deeply concerning unless Badru has evidence of negligence causing his wife's death," the First Lady remarked before turning to leave the bedroom.
"I will need to call the Inspector General of Police to investigate this matter and instruct the CP to act appropriately after reviewing the news report. This government will not tolerate any misuse of power. It will tarnish not only our party's image but that of our country as a whole," the President said, returning to read Teni's article about her fiancé's arrest.
Upon finishing the article, the President noted the writer's name: Dolly Dale. This was the same journalist who had penned the controversial piece on the deep-seated corruption within the Federal Ministry of Finance and who, months later, had commended his government's swift action in purging the ministry of corrupt officials. He had admired how the writer's criticisms, even when directed at his administration, had been constructive.
He picked up his cellphone, scrolled through his contacts, and dialled a number, waiting for a response.
"Your Excellency Sir," a deep voice answered.
"Good morning, Clement," the President said, turning the newspaper back to the front page. "Have you seen today's Voice Newspaper?"
"No, Your Excellency. I am just about to leave for the office. Today's newspapers should be on my desk by now," the Inspector General of Police replied.
"You must have heard the news of the passing of the Lagos State Commissioner of Police's wife," the President said, rising from the bed and walking towards the bathroom door.
"Yes, Your Excellency. I heard the news yesterday and immediately called the CP to offer my condolences," the IGP responded.
"I just read in the dailies how this same CP ordered the arrest of the doctor who performed the surgery on his late wife. That sounds like a clear abuse of power. Look into this and report back to me," the President ordered before entering the bathroom.
"Okay, Your Excellency," the Inspector General of Police said, walking out of his house towards the waiting vehicles, his cellphone still pressed to his ear.
"This government condones no injustice," the President added, about to end the call.
"Yes, Your Excellency," the Inspector General of Police affirmed as he settled into the back seat of one of the waiting cars. His driver steered the vehicle out of the residential compound, and the car proceeded, flanked by two other black SUVs filled with armed policemen. Their destination was the National Police Headquarters in Abuja, the official office of the Inspector General of Police of Nigeria.
…
BOLA AND TENI met in the reception hall of their company, The Voice Newspaper. After a brief exchange of greetings, they ascended the stairs together. They had forged a strong friendship and shared confidences since Teni joined the organization. Both were accomplished writers, highly skilled in their profession, which was why Edward valued their contributions immensely.
Amused by Linda, the receptionist's comment on the controversies generated by Dolly Dale's article on Jim's arrest within the short time the latest edition of The Voice Newspaper had been in circulation, they both laughed as they climbed the stairs.
"She would be better suited as a stand-up comedian than a receptionist," Teni remarked.
"Just as your boss would make a better soldier than a journalist," Bola retorted, and they both giggled as they continued upwards.
"But, in all seriousness, your article has stirred significant criticism around town. I took a taxi to the office after dropping my daughter at school, and the driver spoke of nothing but Jim's arrest until he dropped me off. He said the police were misusing their authority and that the police department desperately needs a reform," Bola said, reaching into her bag for her office keys.
"Then, the news report has achieved its initial aim. That was the very purpose of the story. We both understand this," Teni replied, feeling a sense of satisfaction.
"Indeed, the report has accomplished half of its objective. The remaining task is for the CP to release your man. And if the CP dislikes your reporting of the incident, then he will have to deal with the consequences," Bola said, inserting her key into her office door and turning it. She twisted the knob and watched Teni proceed to her own office.
"Such a vindictive person might begin searching for the writer of the news to interrogate and arrest," Teni said, reaching her office door and unlocking it.
"And would he find Dolly Dale, the guest writer?" Bola quipped.
"I wonder where he would even begin to look," Teni laughed.
Only Teni, Bola, and Edward knew the true identity of Dolly Dale. None of the other staff members were aware of who used that pen name. It was one of several pseudonyms Teni employed when writing about sensitive national issues, keenly aware of the potential for lawlessness among those in high positions.
The two women were about to enter their respective offices when Edward emerged from his office, his head popping out like a squirrel peeking from its nest. His office was adjacent to Bola's.
As his door opened slightly, the ladies stopped and looked towards his office. With his head protruding from the partially opened door and the rest of his body still inside, he cleared his throat.
"Morning, ladies," he said.
Edward sounded excited, and the small smile gracing his handsome face announced his positive mood. Bola and Teni sensed he had good news to share. They waited patiently for him to speak.
"Let's all convene in the conference room at 8:30. I have some news for you all. I've asked the messenger to inform everyone," Edward announced before immediately withdrawing back into his office.
Exchanging glances and making gestures, the ladies, like military officers receiving orders, simultaneously replied, "Yes, Sir!" and entered their offices, smiling.
By 8:25 AM, all the staff of The Voice Newspaper had gathered in the company's conference hall. Everyone was acutely aware of the Editor-in-Chief's unwavering emphasis on punctuality. Any form of tardiness was considered an act of irresponsibility and invariably incurred immediate repercussions from Edward.
Murmurs and hushed conversations filled the hall as they awaited Edward's arrival to address them before they returned to their respective duties.
At precisely 8:28 AM, Edward entered the hall, wearing a sky-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black, slim-fitting trousers accentuated his trim physique. With his right hand casually in his pocket, he walked to the front of his assembled staff.
His athletic frame exuded confidence as he stood before them. Clearing his throat in his characteristic manner before addressing a large group, he beamed and adjusted his tie, preparing to speak.
The murmuring and small talk ceased instantly at the sound of Edward's throat clearing, and the hall fell into complete silence.
"Good morning, everyone. I am here for a brief address," Edward began.
"'Good' actually accompanied the morning this time," Bola quipped, and Teni giggled, playfully slapping her colleague who had a tendency to joke about everything.
"I want to commend you all for your tireless service to the company. From our article writers to the proof-readers, the printers, the receptionists, the news writers, the messengers, the accounts department, the graphics department, and our marketing team—kudos to each and every one of you," Edward said with a smile before continuing his speech.
"I am delighted to inform you that The Voice Newspaper has won this year's grand prize for the best newspaper in our country," Edward paused, and a thunderous wave of celebratory shouts erupted within the hall. Everyone embraced and shook hands, their faces beaming with joy.
Edward waited a moment for the excitement to subside before continuing. He paced from right to left and back again as he spoke, his stylish demeanour and confidence stemming from his success, intelligence, and good looks.
"This means we have won the 100 million naira grand prize, and we will be representing the country in France at this year's International Journalism Convention in a few weeks. Don't we deserve to celebrate and be rewarded? Absolutely! Therefore, I encourage you all to visit the company's store to collect your gift packages in appreciation of your selfless service before you leave today. Congratulations!" Edward concluded his address, and the staff responded with enthusiastic applause. Everyone felt proud of this achievement, the second time the company had won this prestigious award.
Edward glanced towards where Teni and Bola were standing and beckoned to Teni as he moved away from the front, heading towards the exit.
Seeing Edward's gesture, Teni immediately left Bola and quickened her pace to catch up with her boss, walking beside him as he moved.
"Your news-report has generated significant controversy and strong reactions across the country, and I commend you for it. I've received four calls on the issue this morning, two from high-ranking government officials," Edward said, turning briefly to look Teni in the face as they walked.
"Bola mentioned the same thing this morning," Teni replied, trying to keep pace with Edward, who continued his brisk walk, seemingly oblivious to the comfort of the person beside him.
Teni's high-heeled sandals were not helping matters, and she had to watch her steps carefully to avoid tripping as she struggled to maintain Edward's pace.
"All I'm saying is, it was a job well done, and from what I'm seeing, your friend might be released soon. You know it's our duty as journalists to use the power of the pen to correct harmful societal norms," Edward said as he began to ascend the stairs, with Teni following closely behind.
"Thank you, Sir," she replied.
They reached the top of the stairs and walked towards their offices. Teni stopped at her door when she heard Edward speak again.
"I want you to write about the life and death of the former presidential candidate, Moshood Abiola, for the commemoration of his death next week. Make sure you conduct thorough research on him," Edward instructed, turning the knob of his office door.
"I will begin working on it immediately," Teni promised and entered her own office.
Teni was pleased that the article on Jim's arrest was having its intended effect. However, the new assignment felt daunting, as she had not yet arrived in the country when Moshood Abiola contested for president and tragically died during the struggle to claim his denied mandate. But as someone who loved history and embraced challenges, she believed this assignment would offer her the opportunity to learn more about the great man she had heard so much about.
She had barely settled in front of her computer when her cellphone rang. She reached for it in her handbag, she answered and listened to Bola's voice.
"Hello Teni, are you aware we are both attending the national conference tomorrow? Did Edward mention it?" Bola asked, walking to her office window as she spoke. She drew back the royal blue rayon curtain with the back of her left hand, revealing the busy street below. The afternoon sun was intensely hot, but its effect in the room was neutralized by the humming air conditioner on her office wall.
"No, I suppose it slipped his mind," Teni replied from her end, relaxing fully in the rocking chair in her office.
"Come to work prepared tomorrow," Bola said, drawing the curtain back to its original position and returning to her seat.
"Where is it being held?" Teni asked.
"The National Conference Centre, beside the National Theatre, Iganmu," Bola replied, sitting at her desk and contemplating the struggle for survival unfolding on the street despite the harsh weather. She felt sympathy for those who had no choice but to work under the scorching sun. Africa's sun can be unforgiving at times, she thought. In fact, she sometimes wondered if it was the same sun that was celebrated during summer on other continents—this same sun that the people of Africa tried so hard to avoid when it shone its brightest.
"That's fine. It's good it's not out of town," Teni said, disliking road travel due to the poor condition of the country's roads. Long journeys on bad roads always left her body aching.
"Your wish to meet the president in person will be fulfilled. He, his vice president, and the secretary of state will all be there," Bola said, knowing her colleague would be excited.
"Wow! I can't wait to meet him. Can we try to secure an interview session with him?" Teni's reaction was exactly as Bola had anticipated.
President James Ola was one of Teni's favourite African leaders. She admired his policies, his handsome appearance, and his eloquent diction whenever he addressed the nation. His speech delivery was always a delight to her.
"We will find a way to get him interviewed. Trust me," Bola promised.
"Let's discuss it after work," Teni said, tilting her chair back to its normal position, reaching for her pen to write.
"That's fine," Bola replied and hung up.