The Mask of Power: Onye Ntu’s Theatre of Deceit
An Editorial from the Voice of Ndi-Ikembe

A Leader with a Past, A People with a Price
It is said that the past is a stubborn guest: no matter how firmly you shut the door, it lingers in the room. Many in Ndi-Ikembe recall when Onye Ntu, long before his ascent to the throne, was forced to surrender staggering sums abroad; the wages of criminal enterprise that left a permanent stain on his name. That history is not folklore; it is fact.
Yet here he stands, draped in authority, not by the clarity of virtue but by the fog of theft at midnight. In any land where accountability meant something, such a history would demand humility. But in Ikembe, it has become a badge of bravery and the springboard for audacity.

Beside him sits Otule (Minister by Title, Menace by Nature), a man who wears a ministerial badge like a mask but behaves like a common street thug. His ministry is not of service but of destruction. Where there are traders, he sees targets. Where there are farms, he sees land to seize. Where there is peace, he brings chaos.
The livelihoods of the people are reduced daily to rubble, not by accident but by design. And all the while, Otule struts with impunity, emboldened by the shield of Onye Ntu’s protection.

But tyranny, however brazen, cannot silence every voice. Atuegwu has become the thorn in the flesh of this corrupt establishment. His weapon is not violence, nor bribery, but truth. He dares to ask the questions others fear:
• Why must the people’s sweat be trampled?
• Why must old crimes be forgotten while new ones are committed?
• Why must leadership become license for looting?
Yet instead of answers, Atuegwu receives abuse.

Here is where Afo Ojoo, the court spokesman, the ever-available mouthpiece, comes in. His salary is not for defending justice but for perfecting deflection. Whenever Atuegwu raises the burning issues of Otule’s misconduct or Onye Ntu’s tainted past, Afo Ojoo has one assignment: attack the messenger.
With the desperation of a drowning man, he lashes out:
• “Atuegwu is bitter!”
• “Atuegwu seeks attention!”
• “Atuegwu is unfit to speak!”
• “Atuegwu is short!”
He sidesteps the substance and hammers the speaker. He buries facts beneath insult. He spins lies until even lies grow dizzy.
This is no spokesman; this is a mercenary of words, paid to manufacture smoke where there should be light.

Thus, the daily drama in Ikembe plays out like bad theatre:
• Onye Ntu, the ruler with a scandalous past.
• Otule, the minister who governs by destruction.
• Afo Ojoo, the spokesman who wages war on truth.
• Atuegwu, the lone voice who refuses silence.
It is theatre because nothing is real: the promises are hollow, the titles are fraudulent, the words are empty. Yet it is costly theatre, for the people are made to pay the ticket price with their livelihoods, their dignity, and their future.

The verdict of history shows that power may silence dissent for a season, but it cannot rewrite history. The forfeited millions of Onye Ntu’s past will always whisper, a reminder that crime has long shadows. The destruction Otule leaves behind cannot be hidden forever beneath Afo Ojoo’s noisy insults. And the voice of Atuegwu, though mocked today, may become tomorrow’s anthem.
For the people of Ikembe, the choice is simple: continue to watch this grotesque performance, applauding at the cue of propaganda, or rise together to close the curtain on a theatre that has already run too long.
Because in the end, no spokesman, no thug, no ruler can drown out the truth forever.

EK Gwuru’s Note:
In Ikembe, we call things by their names. A thug is a thug, a liar is a liar, and truth is truth; no matter how loudly it is attacked.
Dr. EK Gwuru can be reached at Nkolo Obodo, Ikembe.