47 The fear he mobilised had evaporated

Jamal Mujahid was having problems at work. He saw it coming. Three months ago when he returned to find Nabila gone he knew, knew that his days as an Abuja socialite were numbered. Dr. Danjuma Bello was not one to make empty threats. Jamal had to hand it to the old man; having his name taken off the priority list was one thing but having his Solar Power contract withdrawn was pretty impressive. It stated on the rejection letter, in black ink, that his idea for solar powered street lights along the Nyanya expressway simply was not cost-effective. Bullshit! Jamal was not buying and after insisting for the facts, the Minister of Power and Steel had simply said to him, "What were you thinking? I always thought of you as a smart and bright young man, but now you have made some powerful people very angry."

"It doesn't mean it is not a good idea"

The Minister agreed, "The problem was not the idea"

Three days later Jamal's subordinate was handed the contract. That was merely the first of a domino chain reaction. It quickly became apparent that Jamal no longer wielded the power and influence he used to, in Jamal's world that was akin to being pushed out of a corner office and placed back on the stock floor. Jamal was now a political leper, anyone associated with him was promptly denied.

At first he took it all on the chin, shrugged it off and promised to bounce back. He was Jamal Mujahid; he had contacts to call on if needed. People in delicate positions owed him huge favours. With an immense amount of nicotine (he was back to chain smoking) in his system Jamal re-examined his Career path. He had fingers in many pies: agriculture, finance, power and aviation. He would get his monthly turnover back on track with a little clever manoeuvring. As it turns out, his so called connections failed to materialise. No one was scared to offend him, because well, there really wasn't anything he could do about it. The fear he mobilised had evaporated.

Jamal could not understand what changed so rapidly; except for his marital situation of course. But that shouldn't matter; Nabila had never played a role in his success. Well she never personally came to his office but her family name often came up. His wife was the daughter of UN consultant and former Minister of Health, an ex-President remained her guardian and testimonial Godfather and most importantly Kaka was her grandmother. Jamal knew this swayed heavily in his favour when he was coming up in the Federal Ministries; now he earned contracts on merit and past credentials but initially it began as; the son-in-law of...requires some assistance. Jamal was not ashamed of where he came from. His family had a lot of money- a little too much in some respects.

But one thing he had come to realise in Government is that there is difference between money and power. The powerfulness of old money was exponential. Nabila's family was powerful. Kaka alone probably controlled half the public sectors. He had built his name-the Mujahid name-on that lineage of powerful political players and now it was all collapsing like a house of cards.

To make things more difficult talk of malpractice and bribery swirled around his head so no private investor or financier would touch him with a 12foot pole. Not to say the bribery claims were false; everyone was a party to a little tit for tat. Everyone greased palms once in a while, it was the Nigerian way. A way, which the Federal Government intended to stamp out, hard and with immediate effect so Jamal, Deputy Director of Engineering Services for the Ministry of Works and Housing, was made an example of. Jamal would not lose his job that much he knew, he was still too valuable. However his days as a mover and shaker were coming to end. Jamal was enough of a realist to see that.

Last week Jamal called a realtor and had his house in Wuse II put on the market. It sold quickly. His marriage situation was no secret so continuing to live in the four bedroom house made no sense. Also with the garden overrun it had taken on a sombre dilapidated look. Jamal recalls the happy couple that held hands, the ones that gave a synchronized wave when they received the keys. "Oh what a lovely blue couch" the skinny wife cooed. "Please say it comes with the house". Jamal stared at perhaps the most diligent observer of the collapse of his marriage. The couch he and Nabila made love on in the early days, the couch she waited on when he kept late nights, the couch he found her napping on the day he rushed her to the hospital fearing she inhaled a poisonous fertiliser, the couch she fell from that night he confessed he did not love her, the couch she sat on after her miscarriage. The damn blue couch again and again.

"No I'm sorry that is mine. The movers must have left it behind"

"Oh" wife frowned and nestled her husband. Husband right on cue

"My wife really wants it so how much are you willing to part with it for?"

They were playing right into his hands. Jamal hated the stupid thing and would love to see it burn. Drawing on the acting skills that made him so good at his job once upon a time he stared longingly, before muttering a figure with a saddened sigh. The look of pain on Jamal's face deterred the man from haggling, plus he wanted to please his new wife. With that he wrote Jamal a cheque right away. No fool, Jamal asked for a business card in case it bounced, "nothing personal" Jamal said in response to the man's annoyed look. Jamal chuckled all the way to his car, what was it about manipulation that made him so happy? He figured he would spend the money on interior designing his new apartment.