It was another great year like the barrel of a projectile fast approaching it target.
A new season of harvest was drawing near to its end.
The month was full of many series of rallies; and the rush hours of campaigns, created an aura of chaotic mind set in people, setting one political opponents against another.
Campaigns had persistently flooded the major gates of the regions for many weeks.
Yet, the state was stirred up with so much hate and animosities that were propagated and manipulated by varied elites.
The new emerging rival parties, just the way it had been in the history of Chakia was growing like bush fire.
Kidnapping and killing themselves for many wrong beliefs.
It was a culture that had persisted, since the emergence of the state after the exit of the colonists. It was like a trend that everyone understood it's how follow.
Most campaigns were bloody in the regions— and had received the invasion blows from sponsored gangsters, armed men, armed gangs, street thugs who had sold their consciences for the devil.
"Bloody Campaign," was nearly as a cliché in Chakia.
The people knew it like the palms of their hands.
Thugs were been used constantly every four years to frustrate other political opponents in the state.
Often aiding the misconduct of many elections and abetting the rigging of voting processes.
"But who are the sponsors of this hoodlums?" Asked Michael.
"Who else have the money to spend on hoodlums, if not the Lopadans!" Replied Akalia.
"Remember my uncle was killed by a sniper many years for political struggles?"
"You've told me about your uncle once, and that's the more reason why— you need to succeed to end the past circle and make him proud." Said Akalia.
As usual, the Lopadans have enjoyed this game of betrayals, rivalry, bigotry, brutality, and the continuous tensions created across the regions for years.
Some of them have been caught live— lobbying for votes.
It has been seen and captured on cameras in many different occasions, to either force themselves or their candidates as leaders on the citizens.
Created and propagated stories that would position themselves as good candidate for change was not only game, but an intercourse of political candidates enjoyed like sex.
But these were candidates of strong movements, and to which they could control as puppets, while they indirectly rule on the puppeteer seat of power to extend their agenda and diplomacy.
Their influence on the economy; in conjunction with making political decisions were visible and endemic to developmental policies and reforms.
And whoever their crafty hands had lay upon this periods and bribed, would fall prey for their greed.
Death was the eminent risk staked, if one couldn't finish a given role of assignment to DIVIDE while they CONTROL the systems of power.
There associates hired wayward gangsters in many regions and would feed them their own purposes.
These goons terrorising the entire state, were mostly sponsored by the dishonesty activities of the Lopadans.
They were permanent loyal servants like the tamed wyvern— restrained to themselves.
But they could unleash their anger when brain washed and die like dogs for the sake of loyalty for their masters— or kill thousands of souls— just to disrupt an electoral activities at all cost for the sake of winning and keeping the circle running.
But if the tarot refused a fair balance, only in their favour, they'll bend the will by force— through waste of lives to pave ways for the corrupt system to come in again.
That late afternoon hours was entirely submersed in hostility. Inside the MFF facility hall hosting thousands of political guests. The windowless hall was filled with an uproar inside.
Especially around the premises of the party convention: so grand.
The convention often falls once every four years, around the mid-septembers were it will be flooded with coded members and delegates that you've never met your entire life.
It end often comes with a price, either a tragedy or cross carpeting that would warrant an unknown enemy to spy you for the rest of your life.
The Baltic atmosphere above the MFF event facility was however too dull compared to the inside walls; because of the cool weather that was overly humid.
Yet many goes about their normal duties, as more guests arrived wrapped up in thick clothing that will encourage their body to conserve the necessary heat to warm itself in the frigid weather.
Looking up to the foggy sky that day, it was covered throughout with patches of continuous motions of thick shifting clouds.
Thunder was farting very loud at the west horizon.
The dark towering band of stratocumulus, moving like ridges— were spinning along the southwest horizon, self-mixing and turning overly against themselves in the distant firmaments far above the mountains; higher than ten kilometers.
The convention lasted for four hours, but ended with fracas, and then finally defections.
Grappled with this effect their hearts were heavy.
Michael Ajakison and Akalia Ambikasaleh, were the first to exit the hall of meeting very angry.
Both wore a manner of scrunched nose, that smoked with anger on their faces.
Again, the convention have been hijacked, through a counterefforts, and manipulative games of the Lopadans.
"Most of them have been bought with money!" Akalia said, stepping delicately out of the hall.
Michael followed behind quickly.
The two paced their way down along a narrow concrete path, on a curved pavement, not more than a metre wide— grumbling as they gradually approached a car parking lot— shouldering their arms and cursing.
The air around them tinged with the scent of petrichor as the crowd suddenly buzzed far behind them.
The breeze blew cold heavy air around the facility flinging debris.
Akalia and Michael were both conversing about the ills of Chakia's politics.
Looking at the building, the central hallway of the gigantic Municipal Freedom Facility, stood giant from afar off— and towering a distance apart from the opposite cathedral that they were approaching.
There was a panic mass of exodus, pacing out from the lobby behind them, as they walk fast down to a car parking lot.
They'd left the facility immediately after the meeting had ended, through the basement at a rapid pace, to avoid the confrontations and possible quarrels with other agrieved members of the CRPs that things didn't go down well with.
But thanks to God, they weren't seen to be interviewed at that moment, because they'd avoided all the pressmen on purpose.
However, the entire MFF by now was engulfed by cautious footsteps, yet frenzied bumped around the lobby.
Pathways, scrummed with excess pressmen; and guests loosely shielding all around the green areas.
Many photo paparazzi, dressed in their finest tuxedos, had converged at different strategic points, to cover the event.
Some of them hurrying about the premises— searching for prominent men that they could interview.
But A.A. and Michael had disappeared from sight whom the press were all searching for and were interested to hear from both of them.
The vast acres of land was shining with green lush of grass vegetations and sparsed mangroves that surrounded the entire facilities like a Park.
Vegetative parts of the plants attracted a large number of butterflies and bees with small birds, and other forms of crawling insects which had been noticed by all.
Including those that could hover above the green field without landing on the manicured lawn— stretching far beautifully— all the way down to a monumental cathedral that stood independently alone, at a far distance, opposite the main twin facilities gate.
These buildings were awesomely constructed.
Tall, giant concrete structures with arc upon arc that protruded out from the painted walls like fists to drain rain waters off the rooftop.
Both facilities were surrounded with a well nurtured beautiful sunflowers and celosia plants.
These places were all surging with multitudes of dignitaries and their counterparts cold be seen standing at different hidden corners and passages.
Some guests were noticed wandering down languidly along the broad bank of Fresh Tania Rivers tributaries— just few yards away from the front view of the magnificent cathedral.
Many could be seen gradually spreading to different places and exiting the gate to different locations just before their final departures.
Still many were greatly involved in a heated arguments with the frenzied ravenous interviewers.
But A.A hated the front lenses of digital cameras— widening their lens angles on her. She'd tactically avoided them completely, and called them,
"The Snitch Parrots."
But those candidates who desperately needed to feed their ego to the media houses with their own opinions publicly, or positively needed to clearify issues about certain things spoken against other oppositions; had simply signified by raising their hands.
They were engaged soonest in a breathless interviews that was flooded with excess press-men, and corresponding reporters seeking for updates from whatever source.
"When will my people learn, Michael? We are a new breed, you know that." Akalia said grouchy, as she paused and overturned suddenly— half a circle but still in that spot.
She chased away the oncoming corespondents that had sneaked up on them suddenly.
Her footsteps were still held firm to the ground in a reverse direction, as she hurried and halted beside the front wheel cover of her car.
Her back was curved slightly atop the low bonnet of a black- Mercedes-Benz, to support part of her body weight. She'd acted with a nimbble comportment and then glanced quickly at her gold wrist-watch to access time.
Her eyes beamed in Michael's direction as they left the shinning surface of her wrist-watch.
Her body and face was shivering at Michaels', as if she was scolding a mischievous child.
But no, it had been part of her to act more like a man. Her relationship with Senator Aina J. Rakajapi could not hold any water, as he was a man very close to the Lopadans.
If anyone knew at all, it wasn't glamorous or affectionate.
And nothing intimate for real had happened to provide enough proof of any reasonable relationship scandal.
But the two, had often squeal on each others for the purpose of distrust and the controversies over the CRP movements.
"Chakia, corrupt politicians take their works as a business— like any other, a means to enrich themselves.
A business to drain and loot the treasury by whatever means.
Then, like many other vultures, leave it in far worse conditions than when they had found it."
Michael on hearing this niggled inducing words of criticisms, sank on both knees to the ground on his own volition, as if been inspired or touched by her words.
He kneeled toughly in a man's typical character before the Woman: but truly humbled.
Tears of self esteem and high regards for Akalia's praiseworthiness— rolled like droplets— and cascaded down his chicks; smearing his youthful skin that glowed with bubbles of tears— like the colour of a coconut water...acting more like a juvenile delinquent.
"Ah, hah!" sighed Akalia with a worried frawn, but Michael interjected her instead with a dry husky voice crumbling.
"I need your blessings A.A. You know I am your sponsored candidate...your trust worthy companion and ally, even from day one.
Everyone needs a prayer at a certain point in time: right? Or don't they? I do not want to fall short of my obligation, please pray for me to deliver my promised work: dearest old friend."
"O yes Michael! Certainly I will. And you've been a good companion and a friend, all these years.
And never have you failed me, not even for once.
Now stand on your feet and i will bless you with my whole heart: son."
Her eyes were glistening with mist, out of pure emotions for the first time of her life.
But Michael adamantly— had himself remained in that spot in the ground, insisting to kneel under the influence of humility, on the account of what Akalia had blatantly uttered.
Michael was loyal even to a fault.
"No, it's a command friend! You've to stand while i speak, son.
Am not comparing you to those degenerate politicians!"
Akalia paused while silence stretched amid a momentary solitude, with glaring of eyeballs locked actively against each other face— as though it has been forever staring.
Her words were still hanging in her mouth, and her eyes peering down at Michaels'.
"Ok, though I can see an augury," she said, "but I can't tell the end of it all.
We need to hold on, and stay vigilant, until we ride out this crisis.
Who knows what the Lopadans' (the cabals) are capable of?
But you should know that, you're a man now Michael. I can't tell you everything!"
She sneered to her left direction, tossed her long braided black hair over her shoulder, and continued.
"I know they have a vested interest in keeping the state as exclusive as possible to themselves.
Oh yes, I know... i can smell it even miles.
Even from a thousand years to come.
Michael use your discretion wisely, I do not have any more answer to your questions."
Michael un-kneeled one of his foot while the other still grips firm to the ground and stared up hard at the direction of Akalia's face and then said.
"My plan is to govern this state with equity and fairness of justice when I've become the governor.
And then, i will destabilize ethnicity with equity.
That's one of the major tools employed by most elites to stir up hate and segregations amongst us." Akalia touched his head but said nothing.
"I will ensure that all abnormalities around the State are announced promptly.
Religious intolerance as they've used it as a weapon to shape and split us— will eminently fades away.
And then regional affiliations will naturally align with my plans, when i ascend the seat of power.
When everyone has something tangible to do with their hands, to nurture their dreams and ambitions, craft and aspirations.
Naturally, they'll give up evil for good.
They'll feel certainly secured about life and empowered by those that governs them.
Ultimately, they will obey the golden rule.
What else do you give a crippled man if not his walking aid?
The rule of law will be my scepter; the oughtmost priority bill— to be assented first into law, in my first tenure.
No room will be provided to manipulate the will of the people ever again.
Isn't that what you've thought me all these years under your tutorage?."
Akalia's face twitched down to Michael's misted. An attempt to synchronize with his almost impossible dreams and mere imaginations.
It was as if he'd lost track of time and realities of life once again. It'd been a long time of experiencing a deja Vu.
"These by me, which I stand to be corrected, are the conflict to be resolved, first in Chakia."
Michael felt a protective coat lifting off from his feet to his skull, as he essentially empties his mind assertively.
And then a surging chills of breeze, took over him with a sudden relief of burdens.
Akalia was right there in all her propensity, staring into Michaels' inner thoughts.
"Secondly," continued Michael, with a husky throaty quality, as his blood pulse increased by iota dilation. His nerves narrowed down in anxiety and the enzymes picked up signals of cold throughout his circulatory system.
"If i am successfully elected to govern the affairs of this state. My intention is to leave a lasting legacy, far reaching out deep— to galvanising every ethnic groups, and all it tribesmen in this state together.
And the people, I believe will be encouraged to live and work in unison, cohesively as one indivisible entity.
I'll enforce the state cohesion— a common coexistence amongst our people."
Akalia poignantly sneered with pains of disappointment crossing her face, as she continue to peer down at Michael's eyeballs, without flinching at all, and wondering if all that was ever going to be possible in Chakia in just one tenure.
It was here that she felt more bounded to her vision— as an obligation; to let only the younger generations rule the coffers of power henceforth.
"Good interest at heart son, you are blessed with insight! I love your will and drive." said Akalia.
She bent directly over the head of Michael— in a stoop position, and grabbed the fleshly part of his left shoulder– with the tips of her thumb and the middle fingers held tightly... she squeezed it down mildly to her feel— as if it were a pleasure she'd always enjoyed doing it.
"I understand what your rant is all about son!
And instead of them working with us together, but the Lopadans influence on the state and their manipulative tactics have ended up in splitting the party successfully with all the best goals again.
Did you see it coming Michael...? Respond to me in precision, son."
But Michael stayed down in silence rage, not wanting to curse.
He didn't even moved an inch of muscle, still kneeling to prevent this moments of high concentration of holding back his anger to check.
Tears of sorrows at the thought of the wasted potentials on the state plunge down his cheeks.
Then,...
"Oh no son! You didn't tell me that you don't know?" Said Akalia.
"Tell me you didn't?" She cursed at the top of her lungs.
"They're gotta be kidding me scoundrels!
These selfish bastards can't change for anything.
It's a shame...whammy! Really disgusting shame."
Michael felt the waves of anxiety crashed quickly against him like the tides of the seas—hitting the surfaces of the shores— as it reaches suddenly to the land rocks with rage.
It was the expressions of the gust of the sea that had manifested.
It was as though he was already loosing the real election in real time, as he ponders between lines of her painful statements, which he had been regurgitating— one after the other.
His mind couldn't contain or connect all that Akalia had said.
He stood upon his feet tall with his sharp eye brows piercingly.
A sort of sudden resilience with steady inclination— inside of him with chagrin grew persistently until it had reached the stage of no return.
He spite on the ground, and said at last: cursing.
"The Lopadans throw crumps to many fools; followers who will then parade them.
But shame is waiting on the way for those who had already been fooled— and are irredeemable by the enemy's falsehoods.
You'll see, they'll all turn and rip them apart, like vultures eat their carcasses."
Akalia raised her head up a bit towards the horizon, just enough above Michael's shoulders to see her path clearly— to all that was laid ahead of them, and said smiling.
"But God will not allow those with good intentions to be harmed for doing good, or worst die in the hands of their enemies for nothing."
She looked briefly at a distance spaces, along the cathedral— and down upon the fields of the river bank that stretched down south.
She could see figures of crowds still sweeping down along the green broad open fields of fresh green grasses to the far bay of the long narrow rivers.
The acre was overcrowded with some kind of ginger like plants.
And the sharp prickly leaves, projected out of them like some sort of thin blades in the midst of many figures of tall bended flowers with broad leaves.
Akalia turned her face on immediately, and peered straight into the misted eyes of Michaels'.
"Well this is the whole truth, nothing but the truth, you've said it all.
And it is deep! But we'll get hold of ourselves for the time been.
Only then, we'll reason and treat this matter with the utmost sobriety it all requires." said Akalia, and turned into her black Mercedes car, leaving.