The wrong robbers

’I was just returning from my usual  morning stroll when I noticed your car was around. I decided to stop  and say salam since we haven’t seen each other for weeks. But I really  didn’t expect to see you now, I thought you will be away till after  the gubernatorial elections.’ ‘Wa alaikumussalam, welcome Hajiya Bint, […]

’I was just returning from my usual  morning stroll when I noticed your car was around. I decided to stop  and say salam since we haven’t seen each other for weeks. But I really  didn’t expect to see you now, I thought you will be away till after  the gubernatorial elections.’
 ‘Wa alaikumussalam, welcome Hajiya Bint, please come in’ she replied,  leading me into the house. ‘Yes, my original plan was not to return  till after all the elections but that had to change.’ She explained,  sitting down in her parlour.
‘Really, was there an emergency you had to come and attend to?’ I  asked, sitting on the chair opposite hers.
‘No, in fact the emergency happened in my hometown where I went to  vote. My being back here is actually a return to safety.’ She  answered, mysteriously.
‘Return to safety’ I echoed, ‘you mean you were threatened at home,  among your own people?’ I asked.
‘More than that Hajiya Bint, I was robbed.’ Sahura announced, sadly.
‘Oh my God, was it at home? I hope they didn’t touch you.’ I rushed to enquire.
‘No, it wasn’t at home. It happened at the polling booth.’ She replied.
‘How audacious,’ I answered, totally shocked. ‘So the robbers actually  attacked you at the polling unit, before the eyes of the public?’
‘Well, more or less.’ Sahura responded, ambiguously.
‘I don’t understand, what do you mean by more or less? Were you  attacked at the polling unit or after the elections when everyone had  left?’ I demanded.
‘You see I wasn’t really attacked, I took the money to them.’ She explained.
‘Oh I see, so they threatened you and you quietly took the money to  where they were and then left the town.’ I offered.
‘No, you see when I left here three weeks ago, I went home to mobilise  our supporters to vote for our candidates. As a card-carrying member  of the party, I was entitled to some funds with which to do this mobilization exercise. Ever since going home, I had done nothing but share that money to potential voters. Every evening I would lock  myself at home and bring out the Ghana-must-go bag and share the money into envelopes containing twenty thousand naira each. In the morning I will pick the youth wing leader of our party and we would drive round sharing to every young person who showed us his PVC. We gave them the money and urged them to vote our candidate and they all promised they would….’
 ‘Why weren’t you giving the elderly?’ I interrupted, totally curious about the whole story.
‘No, I wasn’t in charge of that. You see when the electoral commission postponed the election by six weeks, our party leaders decided that we should leave no stone unturned in campaigning for our candidate’s  re-election. We were urged to return to our home states and mobilize voters seriously. Luckily I had done my voter registration at my hometown, so it was easy for me to relocate there, share the money and also cast my vote. That was why I left here weeks before the polls.
 Now, I was in charge of mobilizing the youths, one man was in charge of the elderly and the clergy. I contacted the youth wing leader and set about my task. I even sent my children to their father the moment they closed for the school holidays, so I could concentrate on my work. You know ever since our divorce, they share their time between us. Anyway, I dedicated my time to campaigning for our party by sharing those funds. But on the day of the election, I got the shock of my life. The moment I got to the polling station, the youths on the queue ignored me. I saw them making way for elderly women to be accredited as soon as they arrived, but no one even looked at me. I thought it was because I wasn’t elderly but I also remembered being the one who gave them money. I began to notice such hostile stares from them that I became afraid. I waited for about an hour to get accredited and not one of them even greeted me. Some of them, I actually recognized, because I personally handed our 20,000 naira donation to them, but not one of them was ready to acknowledge me. I drove back home after the accreditation and kept trying the youth wing leader’s phone, in order to tell him of my strange experience but I couldn’t get him. Three hours later I went back for the voting. I almost didn’t go because I was so discouraged but I decided to be courageous and who knows, I might even meet friendlier youths this time, I said to myself. So I went and joined the queue once more.
 Again those cold stares and threatening glances greeted me. You have no idea how much courage it took me to remain on the queue and vote. I was greatly relieved when it became my turn and I hastily voted and left. I came back here wondering where we went wrong. How can these people collect our money and act so hostile and unsupportive? And  since they knew they weren’t going to vote for us, why did they collect our money? I was so disheartened I came back here and tried the youth leader again. This time I got him. When I told him what happened, he said to me I was luckier than him. He said he was actually attacked because he went to his poling unit to vote while driving a party vehicle. He said that was all the youths needed to start insulting him. Like me, he ignored them at first but when it became obvious they were getting more rude, he replied by calling them ingrates who took our money and were now insulting us. At this, the young men on the queue went for him. He had to physically run away from the spot to save himself. His driver acted fast by driving the party jeep away and picking him from the streets. That was how he was able to make it home. He couldn’t even do the accreditation, let alone vote. Imagine this Hajiya Bint, after all the money we have given them. They are simply robbers.’ She lamented.
‘Oh, so this is the robbery you are talking about? I thought it was  actual robbery, with guns and machetes.’ I responded.
‘But what is the difference Hajiya? The one who robs you at gun-point and the one who took your money and refuse to keep his end of the bargain; what is the difference?’ She wailed.
‘Maybe, but if you could put yourself in the shoes of those youths for a moment, you might see things differently. Don’t get me wrong, I really sympathise with you over this unfortunate incident. But like I said, you have to be in these voters’ shoes to understand their behavior. Here are young people whom the government had neglected for years. They have no jobs, most can’t finish schools and their parents are no better off either. Suddenly, because your party needs their votes, you went round and showered them with Naira. Do you really think that could make them forget their anger and vote you back?’ I asked, rhetorically.
‘So you are trying to justify what they did to us.’ Sahura observed with annoyance.
‘No, I’m just trying to say, see things from their perspective. If for  16 years a party has ruled without them seeing any difference in their  circumstances, how can you expect them to turn down people who promised them change? I already told you that most of them are without jobs and the means to go to school. They are facing a bleak future, and right in the middle of their misery, you showed up giving them money they had never held in their hands before. And all because you want to be voted back, you want a continuation of their doom, how can they be faithful to you?’ I asked again.
‘Ok, Hajiya Bint, I’ve always known that you don’t support our party but I never knew that your position extends to justifying my personal misfortune. I now know the kind of neighbor you are. Thanks for dropping by but this conversation is over.’ She declared, rising from her seat to show me the door.
‘Don’t get angry dear neighbor,’ I said, rising up from my chair, ‘and  this is nothing personal but the young men you prefer to call robbers are only after the promise of change. Your party and your leaders have failed them. You can’t expect them to sell their votes for 20,000 naira when it only means more years of hopelessness and insecurity.
 And we all know that the money wasn’t from the party, it came from government coffers. Even this will make the youths believe they are only taking what is due to them from a government which had denied them so much.’ I argued.
‘Well you have made your point Hajiya Bint, you can leave now.’ She  repeated her dismissal of me.
‘Yes, I will.’ I answered. heading for the door. ‘But just for the record, you are angry with the wrong robbers. The real robbers are those who emptied government coffers in six weeks in order to win this election. And they lost.’ I concluded, walking out of her house.