A Minister in a Box Read online

  Biko pointed at his shoes and said, “It’s all thanks to them”.

  As they left the village, they spotted the baboon watching them on the edge of the large forest with such a sad look in his eyes.

  *

  Biko had never been to the capital before, or to any other city, for that matter. The only city he had ever visited was Benioni, the flat, derelict, county town. Golasa was a shocking marvel on arrival. Having never seen a two-story house before, Biko stared at the tall buildings in amazement, all the more so as they grew even taller the further the car approached the center of town. The plazas, the multitudes in the streets, the traffic jams, the commercial signs, the endless stream of stands and everything else in sight were a source of constant bewilderment for him.

  Buani himself negotiated the rush-hour traffic without so much as a sound, completely immersed in his thoughts, apparently unaware of his passengers, until he finally said, “here we are”.

  These were the very first words Buani uttered since they left Biko’s village. The car stopped before a blue barrier, next to which stood a uniformed guard in white, save for a wide brim black hat. The guard saluted, and off the car went, sliding once again along a paved road running through a row of coconut trees, through which Biko could see carefully manicured lawns. The smell of freshly cut grass attested to a recent visit by a gardener. The boulevard culminated at this great mansion, taken right out of Biko’s own imagination of stately, heavenly palaces. The manor house was painted white, featuring red tiles and a row of marble columns in the front. The car turned right and drove a while longer before stopping next to small elongated green house.

  - This is where you get off. They’ll see to you in no time.

  Speechless with excitement, both passengers unloaded their few belongings and remained standing on the pavement as the car swerved back towards the palace.

  - I am Elizabeth. I am here to look after you two. Come this way.

  She had a white, creaseless dress and a white headband. Elizabeth led Mumadi and Biko into the house and showed each of them his assigned room, after which she took Mumadi to an attached spacious building, explaining that per the master’s instructions, the annex was to be his study.

  - You shall have your supper in the servants’ wing, at the back of the manor. The master wishes to meet you both tomorrow at ten in the morning. I will come and take you to him.

  Sporting a wide, pearly white smile, Elizabeth left them and went about her business.

  Biko was dumbfounded to discover a bed complete with a mattress in his room, in addition to a towel, running water and his own bathroom, all of which were amazing innovations he could not get enough of even in his dreams.

  The following morning, Mumadi and Biko, both tired-looking and out of breath, followed Elizabeth, who was all smiles. She led them to Buani’s office. He looked at them and said:

  - I hope you’re being well taken care of. Trunks of ebony will be arriving this very day, along with new tools for you, Mumadi, which I am sure you’ll be able to use to turn out fabulous statues like only you can.

  Buani then turned to Biko:

  - As for you, Biko, as I promised your mother, I shall take good care of you. I sure hope I know what I’m doing. Starting Monday, you will attend the American School, where I hope the teachers will have nothing but good things to tell me about you. And now, if you will both excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.

  *

  Mumadi did continue to produce the most beautiful statues. He indeed missed the baboons and the scent of the nearby forest, but they were an indelible part of his soul anyway. The spacious studio he was granted, along with the constant supply of ebony and the never ending thrill of this new world he was discovering did him and his work nothing but good. His statues got even better, garnering ever increasing demand.

  Mumadi soon discovered that Buani was one of the world’s largest African Art merchants, and that he displayed Mumadi’s works to the best of his considerable ability, complete with selling them worldwide.

  Buani’s instincts concerning Biko also proved correct. After a brief period of adjustment, Biko had become the top student in his class. The American School was where the locals attended class along with the children of the elite as well as numerous foreign nationals, the children of the diplomats on assignment to Jeronti, whose capital was home to many internationals. All the students had but one thing in common: their parents could afford the steep tuition fee. Biko excelled not only in his studies, but also in his ability to forge close social ties with is fellow students, displaying striking leadership skills.

  Buani took a great interest in Biko and in the development of the youth’s aptitudes. His visits to the school and conferences with the headmaster and the teachers always filled his heart with such content. Having no children of his own, never having married, in fact, Buani’s world amounted to the art business, on top of which he had his fingers in lots of other pies, namely oil and real-estate.

  After he graduated with honors, Biko went off to study at the London School of Economics. Upon earning his degree, he returned to Jeronti and did very well as a businessman in his own right, gaining a local reputation and a prominent position in the country’s top social circles.

  *

  Ten years passed since Biko had first made Buani’s acquaintance. This time, Mumadi wasn’t present during their encounter. He was busy ahead of opening his great exhibition in London.

  - I scheduled this meeting with you today of all days especially. As you know, it has been ten years to the day since you first arrived here, at my home. I did a great deal to provide you with education and train you to become an outstanding adult. As you may have already learned, succeeding in business requires three things: talent, luck and a knack for working together with the right people. I had a bit of fortune, along with some talent, and as you can tell, my business turned out well. I think that I chose the right people over the years, consistently. My business has been stable in recent years, but of late, perhaps due to my advanced years or simply due to my fatigue, I reached a decision: to focus increasingly on the art world and dedicate most of my time to this pursuit. Knowing you, who possesses such talents, and being so trustworthy, faithful and honest, I would like you to run my business for me.

  *

  Managing Buani’s business opened up a new world for Biko. In addition to his exposure to the local and international business world, for all its many twists and ploys, he eased naturally into a prominent position within Golasa’s social elite.

  Once a month, Buani would hold a soiree that attracted the very top social and political figures, along with foreign diplomats and dignitaries, who exchanged gossip and insight concerning the world of finance, politics and so on while noshing on the most delectable tidbits and topping up their exquisite drinks, served up by waiters in full livery. Biko was a natural at such events, as though to the manor born, furthering his network of ever deepening ties with the very top people in government, commerce and the arts, both foreign and domestic.

  Coupled with his rapid immersion with the cream of Golasa’s who’s who, Biko also had the good sense to discern on which side his bread was buttered, and how to make sure the layer on his side would always get thicker. One morning, one of the country’s largest importers, whom Biko knew from Buani’s regular evenings, turned up in Buani’s office. At the end of their meeting, the guest produced a large brown envelope from his suit pocket and proceeded to lay a few piles of notes bound in rubber bands on Biko’s desk, and off he went.

  - I need your help, Biko. I need to run along to a meeting. Please deposit these funds in my bank account.”

  Biko arrived at the bank accompanied by one of his security men, where, much to his surprise, he was given a receipt for one hundred thousand naira. This was hardly the first bundle of cash to exchange hands at Buani’s home or office, where many an
oil magnet came by, along with major importers, coconut oil merchants and other assorted businessmen, each of whom never failed to leave behind a stuffed brown envelope.

  *

  It was during one of those parties at Buani’s mansion that Biko, customarily mingling, glass of champagne in hand, busy fostering new ties and tending to existing contacts, gasped. All the way at the other end of Buani’s great hall, he saw this butterfly of a woman hovering ever so gracefully from one guest to another. It was none other than Bashira, his sister. That very split second, she recognized her own brother as well. They each made their way through the crowd in the other’s direction, until they finally fell into one another’s arms, asking simultaneously, “What are you doing here?”

  Before they could get a chance to retire to a remote and discrete corner, their behavior astounded everyone, for the sight of two attractive young people kissing and embracing in public was hardly an everyday occurrence. Bashira took her brother by the hand and led him to one of the guests, a fellow sporting very elegant attire.

  - May I present my husband, Shagray. This is Biko, my brother.

  One could hear Shagray’s sigh of relief all the way to the other side of the hall. Biko pulled Buani towards him.

  - May I present Bashira, my sister. My mother told you about her.

  Having satisfied the curiosity of some of Buani’s guests, setting the minds of some of them at ease, Biko and Bashira finally found a peaceful corner to speak.

  Bashira was the most beautiful girl in their village, with so many friends and beaus. Aged fourteen, having consulted with her mother, she decided to accept a job offer, to serve as a maid at one of Golasa’s richest households. Moving to the capital did her nothing but good, but the distance caused her ties with her family back at the village to fray. Biko was merely a small boy when she left, so he had grown up missing her all those years, inducing him to promise his mother as well as to himself that he would look for Bashira. And lo and behold, here she is - at Buani’s manor! The two spoke at length, trying to catch up as best they could and make up for all those lost years and mutual longings. When the party wound down, Shagray joined them.

  - Here he is, my wonderful husband and father to my two kids. I am watching the both of you and can already tell what firm friends you two are going to be.

  And indeed so it was. The friendship between Shagray and Biko grew stronger and they became close friends. Already one of the leaders of Jeronti’s ruling party, Shagray soon became party leader. In the meantime, Biko’s business thrived. Then, in the framework of an atypical development in its history, Jeronti held democratic elections, culminating in Shagray’s election as president. Soon after assuming office, he called Biko.

  - Thank you for your kind wishes, but it takes more than mere well wishing to build a country. I require your assistance. We’ve got major problems. On the one hand, we have this underground movement getting stronger up in the north, and on the other, we’re faced with grave economic problems. I need to put together a government consisting of people I can trust implicitly, and you’re one of them.

  - What would you have me do?

  - Serve as minister for transport and minerals, including the oil business. You of all people know how important the energy sector is to this country.

  After much deliberation, and having consulted Buani at length, Biko informed Shagray he was ready to assume his role as minister.

  *

  Biko was a quick study, rapidly learning the ropes and realizing the enormous power his new position afforded him. He was focused on promoting the country’s infrastructure, but his primary duties lay with the oil industry, seeing as Jeronti lived and breathed oil, its ultimate export commodity. Most of the country’s wealthy people were connected with the energy sector. You could not drill for oil, export it or construct any storage facilities without a government permit, which was exclusively Biko’s purview.

  One day, the manager of an Italian oil drilling company showed up at his office, a short while after receiving a license to drill offshore. After exchanging a few pleasantries, his guest asked, “Where shall I transfer your commission?”

  Biko was aghast, but he hid it well.

  - I will get back to you soon.

  Then, he rushed over to meet with Buani and tell him about the manager’s offer.

  - I thought you were in the loop.

  Buani laughed and continued.

  - What did you think? Where do you think all these great big houses, fancy cars and living it up come from?

  - What commission was he talking about? And how do you receive it? Do you suppose he’ll coming bearing a brown envelope?

  - Don’t worry, there are clear rules about these things. The Italian knows precisely how much he should pay. I can now see you’re completely clueless about these matters, so let me tell you this: large sums are involved, and not in naira, mind you.

  - Where should he transfer the money to? My bank account here only has a few thousand naira after my paycheck is drawn.

  - No one keeps their funds here in Jeronti. First of all, it’s best to keep this sort of thing under wraps. Secondly, there could be a coup anytime, and the first thing the new government would do is throw you in jail and take all your money.

  - So what am I to do?

  - Go to London.

  - And then what?

  - You’ll go and see a solicitor, John Henry Byrot, Esq., a dear man. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll tell you what to do. But be quick about it. The Italians have a short memory.

  *

  It was at Byrot’s chambers on Bailey St. soon thereafter that Biko’s eyes had opened. During their meeting, which lasted for several hours, he learned of existing secret accounts, front organizations and all sorts of trusteeships, not to mention the involvement of his newly found solicitor in all this.

  The very next day, upon Biko’s return to Jeronti, he saw the Italian manager at his office and read out to him, using a small note he kept in his pocket, the details of his secure account in Panama City. Once the Italian had gone, Biko destroyed the note per Byrot’s instructions, flushing the remains down the toilet. A few days later, he received a call from the London solicitor, who intimated to him, using specific code words, that a sum of one million dollars was deposited in Biko’s Panama City bank account.

  Biko soon got the hang of it, realizing very early on he need not even ask for any commission: the bribes simply fell into his lap on a regular basis from those seeking his favors. He himself made a point of visiting London often, with every opportunity used to receive further instructions and clarifications concerning the destination of his funds, be it the Cayman Islands, the Channel Islands and numerous other hideouts - in addition to Panama City.

  Biko also kept close and constant contact with his sister. Once a year, they would send a car round to fetch their mother from the remote village. As much as their aged mother was happy to see her children and throw her arms around her grand kids, she nevertheless could hardly wait for her return to her mud hut. Having slept her entire life on a straw mat and used to cooking over an open fire, she could never get used to the luxury and comfort her two children bestowed on her. She did acquiesce to one thing, though, and even that took a great deal of persuasion: to retire from her hard labor at the corn fields, where she had been working since she turned fourteen. She agreed to receive a small annuity from her children, which sufficed her to get by and spend her days gossiping with her old time village friends.

  *

  The jungle was all aflutter, complete with the sound of drums and battle cries rising from the forests and mud huts. The militia was counting the days before the order was given. This was no longer a fledgling guerilla of malcontents, but rather an organized army, fully equipped and disciplined, as its commanders knew how to use the resources under their domain to establish highly skilled formations over
time, until they were ready for action.

  Instability set in at Golasa and the other major cities. Major demonstrations and strikes had now become the norm, and the general atmosphere was one of shaky ground, fueled by Jeronti’s economic hardships. The people were starving, so they got together, ready to take action.

  *

  Biko was very close to his brother in law, the president. They used to meet every now and then and discuss their country’s problems - in particular the threat to the government, primarily posed by militia commander Mkume Imru, who was gaining notoriety for his cruelty as well as valor.

  During their last meeting, Shagray said to Biko:

  - I am glad you’ve come to me. My intelligence bureau is reporting Imru intends to mount an assault on Golasa. I do not believe my army will be capable of standing up to the militia, and I know what’s waiting for me, my family, you and the rest of my friends, once they take the capital. I decided to send my wife and kids to London this very day. I myself am leaving by private jet thanks to a last minute favor I called in. I suggest you do the same. Better have an escape plan in place. In any case, I made sure you would get a head’s up forty-eight hours in advance so that you may have enough time to get organized and leave Jeronti.

  Biko rushed over to part from his sister, who was waiting for him at her own home, where she greeted him with dozens of suitcases already packed. They resolved to meet again the first chance they would get. Two days later, Biko received an urgent messenger from his brother in law, writing to tell him: “It’s time.”

  Biko took a small suitcase he had prepared in advance, got into his own car and drove towards the border with Benin, the neighboring country. At a gas station close to the border, he walked into the restroom, where he changed into a priest’s habit, typical of the many Christian denominations there. Biko’s numerous precautions seemed superfluous. The border guard didn’t even bother to look at him when he stamped Biko’s passport at the small, sleepy post. Biko then proceeded to drive to Porto Novo, the capital of Benin, where he boarded a regular KLM flight to, then took another flight to London. Upon his arrival at Heathrow, he called a cab to Bailey St., which took him straight into the open arms of his solicitor, John Henry Byrot, Esq.