The Caliphate’s Bargain
When Prophecy Becomes a Verdict
When I, as the Maggis of old, saw the sign of the times disguised as the second coming of the #100MEN mantra, I retired to my deepest thought and consulted the Gods of the dot through the spirit medium of connecting. I began to connect the dots — and lo, the spirit was upon me. I both saw and heard the creaking of a metal-like green door in a land far away, a land where the dust of the Sahel dances with hegemonic chant, and the dry Harmattan wind carries the sharp, ammonia-stinging stench of betrayals disguised as rich history woven in the wisdom of the Sultan.
Instantly, in a manner likened to the sudden activation of a virgin possessed by the spirit, or when you are suddenly hit by a million-dollar idea — you should have been with me here to see the spark in my eyes when it all began to connect. We have often asked: why sentence a man and make, as part of the judgment, a call that has neither legal backing nor judicial precedent? But it was for a symbolic purpose — not as many have opined, but as the reality is beginning to unfold. Where shall the betrayal of an indigenous people come from, if not from a land that stinks of betrayal of the indigenous Hausa people, even the Lank of Sokoto?
I heard a phone ring, and the voice on the other side laughed and said scornfully: “You said we can’t jail you; we just did, and nothing will happen.” And one of the lawyers rushed and spoke into the phone and said: “But, er, we had an agreement with your son, Your Excellency.” And there came a loud mixture of cough and laughter, and the same voice from whom the laughter came continued and said: “All is fair in love and war.” Sound familiar?
Then the chief guest said calmly, as one who has suffered a glaring but arrogantly ignored defeat: “What must I do to be free, then, seeing that I was not jailed on merit — meaning that you just wanted me here, and I do not want to spend a day here?” And the caller responded and said: “My son, peace be unto thy soul. I have heard thine lamentations, and afflictions shall be only but a small time. And if thou doest well, thou shall be free at last.”
Then the chief guest asked, almost in the same manner as Nicodemus did before he was taught the gospel of being “born again”: “What shall I do to be free?” Then the caller said: “Knowest thou not that we both seek freedom? How then thinkest thou that thou shall be free whilst I am in the bondage of IPO? My freedom is in thy hands, as yours is in my hands. If thou would break the shackles holding the freedom of the caliphate whom I represent, I shall do unto you in like manner.”
And the chief guest said unto the caller, in the like manner as Mary said to the angel Gabriel: “How can this be, seeing that I have been sentenced and the DOS are beyond compromise?” And the caller said: “I know that thou art a resourceful man, and if thou desirest thy freedom as much as thou hast lamented, thou shall make all things possible in its time. But now speakest I as a patriarch, and I shall speak in the manner of prophecy: for behold, it shall come to pass that a day shall come before the expiration of thy window of appeal, that thou shall appeal this judgment, and judgment shall be held off until thou hast brought unto this shackles that which we have agreed upon this day. And when it is done, I shall instruct the judges to ‘retaliate’ — no malapropism intended.”
Thus the chief guest agreed and forgot that the caller, who quoted his forbearer (not John Lyly), said: “All is fair in love and war.” And this marked the commencement of the attempts at the destruction of the DOS-led IPOB.
The Doctrine of the Caliphate: Destroyers’ Oath
What followed was not merely a legal twist but a metaphysical trap — a covenant sealed with the echo of laughter. The chief guest, believing in the reciprocity of honor, walked into a web where freedom became currency. Meanwhile, the spirit’s voice continued to whisper through the Sahel dust: when the judges are instructed to “retaliate,” the scales of justice bend until the indigenous covenant is broken.
For verily we say unto you: except ye destroy IPOB, thy wailing for freedom shall all come to naught, for the caliphate has spoken. ⚡
The voices grew still, yet the resonance of the telephone conversation remained — a parable of compromised justice, where political bargains wear the robe of prophecy. The caller’s final counsel twisted the very meaning of freedom: “My freedom is in thy hands as yours is in mine.” A mutual hostage situation masked as a statecraft. And as the dry Harmattan wind continues to carry the ammonia-stench of old betrayals, the green metal door creaks open once more, revealing a cycle that repeats across generations: the illusion of release, the permanence of shackles.
— A transmission from the connecting of dots: political allegory, spiritual jurisprudence, and the unraveling of a nation’s conscience —
