By Meche Oswald .
I have seen the rise and fall of powerful men and women, once larger than life, now forever gone with the winds.
I remember 1999 vividly. I remember Eagle Square and what happened there on the 29th of May, 1999. Twenty-six years later, so much has happened.
From Eagle Square where power changed hands in 1999, I have seen many who stood tall on that day, but today, they lie forgotten in the permanent silence of the grave.
I remember how Nelson Mandela walked into the venue and the ovation that followed, and yet, with these same eyes, I saw him lowered into a casket.
In my eyes, Stella Obasanjo rose to affluence and influence, and with my eyes I saw her being driven out of power in a coffin.
In my eyes, Desire Kabila, who was also at Eagle Square, fell to the bullets of his own bodyguard in DR Congo. I saw Prof. Olikoye Ransome-Kuti, once Nigeria’s Minister of Health, laid to rest.
In my eyes, Chuba Okadigbo rose, fell, and died. Abubakar Rimi and Alex Ekwueme, who both contested the 2003 PDP presidential primaries at the same Eagle Square, had their funerals announced.
In my eyes, the “almighty” Tony Anenih lay in state, helpless in Benin. Prof. Dora Akunyili, the iron lady who once shook every corner of this nation, fell on the streets of India.
In my eyes, the “Evil Genius” now wears canvass on an agbada, confined to a wheelchair, living without his once powerful wife, Maryam.
In my eyes, Edwin Ume-Ezeoke was buried, Gen. Victor Malu’s obituary filled the news.
In my eyes, a Sultan fell from the sky, the remains of the owner of Bolingo Hotel scattered in Lisa village.
In my eyes, Bola Ige fell, Suntai crashed and died, while once landlords of Plateau and Taraba, Joshua Dariye and Jolly Nyame, walked into prison cells.
In my eyes, Gen. Azazi reigned and fell, Yakowa never lived to tell a story. Oronto Douglas, once a powerful man behind the throne, was buried.
In my eyes, President Yar’Adua came and fizzled out of power, just like two of his ministers.
In very my eyes, Solomon Lar, who sat that day as PDP Chairman, a symbol of power and affluence, was buried on a plateau.
In my eyes, almighty Abba Kyari was felled by COVID-19 and transported to his grave without the usual convoy of security details.
In my eyes, the once untouchable Ike Ekweremadu languishes in a London prison.
And in my eyes, the all-powerful Muhammadu Buhari, who once commanded a nation with iron hands, was lowered into the earth quietly, no guards, no sirens, no command. Just another man laid to rest in the dust.
I have seen the strong and mighty rise and fall, forgotten so quickly.
If this write-up should teach us anything, let it be known that power is transient. God gives it to whom He wills. You will not be here forever; one day, nature will happen to you.
So to those of you in power today, where will you be in the next twenty years?
Political power is not permanent. This same power has consumed men, destroyed marriages, cut short dreams, ended relationships, betrayed trusts, and killed fellow humans. Is it truly worth dying for?
May God bless us and help us to understand the message behind this message!
