By John Mayaki .
(c) .Vanguard.
Barr.Nyesom Wike,
So, the grand stage of Abuja politics and administration is finally here! Where rhetoric dances like fireflies in the night, and metaphors take flight to baffle and bewilder. Enter Minister Nyesom Wike, the maestro of melodrama, conducting an overture of urgency, accountability, and determination under the banner of his own creation: “Wike, the man ready to give BP”.
Hear him, “Wahala don come. You must be ready to work hard, I must make sure I give you BP, so you must work hard. You can’t be sleeping when the environment is dirty”.
With the flair of a seasoned magician, Minister Wike conjures up a metaphor that leaves even the most astute observers scratching their heads and wondering what sort of “wahala is this now?”. “Giving BP,” he proclaims, as if he’s the exclusive provider of blood pressure elevation. Yes, folks, brace yourselves, for he’s about to inflate the nation’s collective hypertension! Like a magician’s assistant, his words sweep in, infusing life into the mundane, and breathing vigor into the task at hand. Behold, the life-giving blood of action coursing through the bureaucratic veins!
In this enigmatic drama, the minister dons the cape of the change conductor. With a flourish, he turns his attention to the city’s dimmed streetlights, casting a shadow on the city’s beauty. He urges their speedy revival, lest the very soul of Abuja be plunged into darkness and despair. And lo, with a flick of his baton, he commands the restoration of a clean city, an immaculate Eden in the heart of chaos.
But wait, there’s more! Directors, beware! Minister Wike’s gaze pierces through the veneer of complacency. Like a strict schoolmaster, he admonishes them to rise to the occasion, lest his vigilant eye catch them napping on the job. Tremble, O ye servants of the public! The conductor of change is watching, ready to unleash his overture of symphonic fury.
Ah, the deeper message, the cryptic undertones of “Wike’s BP.” It’s a reminder, you see, that leadership isn’t a walk in the park, nor a nap in the garden. No, no! It’s a call to wield the scepter of responsibility, for public servants are the custodians of a city’s fate. A grave responsibility indeed, and the minister urges them to stay awake while the city slumbers in dirt.
And so, the overture continues. The crescendo of Wike’s BP crescendo, a bewildering blend of urgency and perplexity. Will the overture of action lead to a utopian renewal? Or will it merely orchestrate a comic opera of confusion? Only time will tell, as the minister conducts his merry band of directors, each note of his rhetoric resonating with the pulse of a city unsure whether to applaud or cover their ears.
In this satirical serenade, Minister Wike takes center stage, conducting his overture of metaphors and melodrama. The show must go on, and as the curtain rises, the audience can only brace themselves for the ever-perplexing, ever-entertaining tale of the new “Wahala” in the FCT, Wike’s BP.”
