How I Became A ‘Prominent’ Lady -(Letter From A Women Leader Of A Nigerian Political Party)

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Dear Ugochukwu, I was sufficiently provoked by your recent column captioned, "Criminalisation Of Poverty," to share my great and exciting success story with your numerous readers.

Let me start by proudly informing you that I am a prominent, highly-placed lady, a distinguished member of the nation's ruling elite, highly-connected political leader, a super organiser and one of those who decide the future and direction of our great nation, Nigeria.

I worked really hard to attain my present exalted status, so no columnist should be jealous of me.

I am very happy and fulfilled. Today, in my community, state and nationally, I am highly respected and always applauded as one of the "illustrious daughters" of the land and a role model, despite what some of you journalists may consider as the unflattering route I took in my rapid journey to the top. Well, not all of you are unappreciative of my person and status, any way. And so, I can only pleasantly ignore the noisy few who continue to think that I do not deserve any respect. 

I regularly read brilliant reports full of flowery descriptions of my person in the media, especially, when I hold my usually great parties or attend public functions. But whether you would choose to accept it or not, in this our great country, once someone has "made it", that is, achieved real financial, political and social success as I have done, and is also willing to occasionally dole out some crispy Naira notes, the person would become an instant celebrity; and anyone trying to question his or her integrity would be impatiently dismissed as an irritant and insufferably jealous.

Right now, I have two highly-rated chieftaincy titles, one conferred on me by the traditional ruler of my community (where I was practically a 'nobody' only a few years ago) and the other by a highly respected traditional ruler in another state. I am equally arranging to have a reputable University offer me an honorary doctoral degree to add more dignity, sophistication and intellectual colour to my already high status.

My Special Assistant, a former University lecturer, obtained his PhD from a very reputable University in the United States. And my driver? Well, he was always on top of his class while at the University. I always relish the way they worshipfully respect me even to the point of self-debasement, and would quickly cringe, bow and lavishly wet me with profuse apologies at the faintest hint that they may have performed below my expectation of them. Of course, I always consider it beneath me to betray the slightest sign that I enjoy it all.

I have choice properties at highly coveted privileged spots in Lagos and Abuja, and my country home stands out as an exquisite palace befitting my current status. I have no interest in owning houses abroad, so I only reluctantly agreed, after so much pressure from friends and fellow party stalwarts, to purchase a 'little mansion' in London.

I am not in the least ashamed of my very humble beginnings. When I finished secondary school, my father had dismissed me as a horrendous disappointment because of my dismal performance. And just like I had failed at school, I also was unable to learn to sew very well, and was always quarrelling with customers I had messed up their dresses at my shop in my State Capital where I had relocated.

My boyfriend, at that time, was the personal driver of a prominent politician. He lived in the Boys Quarters in the man's massive compound where they stayed each time he was in town.

One day, my boyfriend agreed that I should visit him at home, but on the condition that I introduce myself as his cousin.

That suited me perfectly, because I had my own plans too. Everyone agreed I was a very beautiful girl, an asset that helped me through secondary school since I was a favourite of my male teachers. And so as the Security Man admitted me into the massive compound and called my boyfriend to inform him he had a visitor, his boss suddenly appeared from the house and barked at his direction:

"Who is she?!" he asked with a malevolent scowl, which did very little to obscure the undisguised lust with which his eyes devoured me.

"My cousin." My bobo answered almost quaking.

"Okay," the man said, smiling nicely now.

How I Became A 'Prominent' Lady -(Letter From A Women Leader Of A Nigerian Political Party)