Doing Dangerously Well Read Free Page B

agbada and crossed his arms, frowning at the municipal official.
    The crowd glared at the bureaucrat, some adjusting their seating to indicate a need for greater self-control. All mouths were fanning the air in noisy accord.
    With visible discomfort, the official leaned forward, closer to the microphone. It screeched. “Em. Yes, of course.”
    He leaned back and sat on his hands, eyes darting around the room.
    A few voices from the audience shouted at him, “Of course, what?” “What are you trying to say?” “Who is this idiot?”
    The official released his hands, shuffled his chair forward a bit and cleared his throat. He grasped his elbows and benttowards the microphone once more. “Em. We are all aware of the government’s position.”
    Femi shot up again, hiking his agbada back on his shoulders. The room fell silent. “May I beg to differ, honourable sir.”
    Femi stepped back in a bow.
    The official seemed puzzled, but relief quickly washed over his face—this bow, a symbol of respect, could mean only one thing. He smiled at Femi.
    “Thank you very much,” he interjected, unknowingly. “And I, on my side, also agree to differ.”
    The room looked at the helpless official in silence. Jaws dropped. Flies entered. This man was so incompetent, so idiotic, he must be a government minister’s son.
    Femi prepared to sweep away this last speck of dust. “It seems we have reached a juncture of the highest consequence. In conclusion, for the record, let me restate the government’s position.” He cleared his throat. “The government agrees, according to your good self,” another bow, “that access to fresh water is an inalienable human right and is pathologically consolidated,” his finger stabbing the air, “in its position against water privatization, while, on our side, we claim,” hands circling back, “that water should be provided for free and not bought and sold like Coca-Cola. Is that the point we have now reached, in so many words?”
    “Em, correct. In very many words,” said the official.
    Femi paused to regroup, then continued. “It is sad to see that we can come no closer than that in our debate.” A note of defeat. “Are you of the highest certitude,” he thundered, “that you are unwilling to move from the statement I have just provided?”
    “I am afraid the government cannot and will not move from that position.”
    “Am I correct in stating that the government stands irrevocably and immutably in its position and we, on our side, support our own contention?”
    “Em, you are correct.”
    “Are there no other arguments we can bring to bear on this matter of serious national import?”
    “You have brought many debates to this meeting, but no one can be swimming against the tide of change and live to tell the tale.”
    Femi shook his head with a look of shrivelling dismay worthy of the most austere schoolmaster at his moment of greatest shock. “My friend,” he breathed in a soft voice that the back row had no trouble hearing, “a lion can eat a man, but can’t a mosquito bite a lion?” He raised his eyebrows in enquiry.
    The official twitched in discomfort.
    Femi shook his head sadly and sat down again, while journalists quickly tapped at their laptops at the front of the room. The official looked at the fan, knowing that the mosquito/lion/man cluster had a point of weakness that, for the moment, eluded him.
    The room tingled with victory.
    The great man, the human colossus, who held wisdom, craft and, most importantly, the full breadth of the English language at his fingertips, had achieved a critical victory in the debate. Within the click of one Send button, news of the government’s new position against the purchase of water would be received by stations as far as clocks tell time.
    The assembly gathered up their belongings. Femi avoided all eyes in the room, and the crowd knew that any tittering would alert the official to his blunder. The next meeting would now have to