Monday, 2 May 2016


A man by name Ekemini Akpan writes an open frustrating letter to President Muhammadu Buhari, telling him of the prevalent hardships in the country. A father’s love is a powerful thing. 

Dear President Buhari,
I’m writing to you not because I’m jobless but because of my lil girl, Valiente (pix attached).
This is going to be an uncensored rant session from a concerned father. I hope you have your glasses on for some reading.
You see, this pix is not so special considering that no Photoshop or camera 360 enhancements were applied to it.
However, I want you to pay attention to the – not so tiny – water droplets on her back.
Mr President, that is called SWEAT.
This sweat you are seeing is not caused by intense labour or activities, juggling or pushups, it is caused by HEAT.
Now, the question arises;
1. Why don’t you put on the Fan or AC?
You see my President, Fan and/or AC is powered by ELECTRICITY and that is where the problem lies – we’ve not had electricity for 9 straight days and counting.
2.How about your generating set (aka Generator)?
Mr President, I can’t find fuel to buy and the guys who manage to sell, do so at odd hours of the morning or night and it goes for nothing less than N200/liter.
Mr President, I really love my daughter and I’ve been buying fuel despite the cost just to make her sleep comfortably but a time comes when your resources are depleted – as experienced by your government – and you begin to adjust your spending (something your government is yet to embrace).
While growing up, i was told a story about the children of Israel migrating to their promise land from Egypt. A time came – while in the wilderness – when they began to miss the carrot, cucumber and garlic they enjoyed in Egypt.
Mr President, I was told that the person who took them on that journey provided them with MANNA – an all-in-one food supplements – on a daily basis and they didn’t have to remember their days in Egypt anymore.
Now I said all that to imply that I’m beginning to miss the last 16yrs in Nigeria so if you don’t mind, let the MANNA rain while we wait for the promise land you vowed to take us to.
I will stop here for now and get back to manually fanning my daughter and while I’m at it, I’ll record voice notes on this experience and store it up for her in the future in case your incarnate or your associates show up in her days with promises of governance.

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