If the evil is coming, shut the door...

Short Stories | The Niles 21
from Sudan
& South
Sudan
Ranting and raving
under the influence
of quinine
by Osman Shinger
I’ll buy myself a tank with a broken cannon and announce my coup
over the radio one autumn dawn!
Only then will I be able to rule this vast land and exercise my
power over all. But before turning my mind to this ruling business,
I’ll have to join the army to get the requisite physical and tactical
training for warfare and learn to use all different types of weapons.
Naturally, that’s what counts… No, what counts is the moment I step
through the Armed Forces’ front door: only then will I be able to
execute the revolutionary plan which will redraw this country’s map.
But all in good time…
All in good time. Yesterday I was discussing an important and
dangerous piece of information with friends. A fascinating, enjoyable
and lengthy discussion, during which I hinted to them of my intention
to bring about a fundamental change in my personal life and made
reference to my objective of effecting a positive change in the public
sphere. But the booze had gone to their heads and no one took any
notice of what I’d said – and so I said to myself: “When I announce
my coup over the radio, you’ll realise how important I am. The whole
population will listen to me then, not just you, and they’ll give me
all the time I need.”
Quite unexpectedly, as though he was reading my thoughts, one
of my companions cried: “Why not join the rebels and speed the
process up? Enlisting in the army takes ages. Take a short cut, why
don’t you?”
That’s a genuinely splendid idea. Why put myself through the
bother of a long process of arduous training and tedious tactics? I’ll
join the armed movement, rapidly rise to the rank of general, and
then I’ll be in a position to depose the movement’s leader and take
control of the government.
And yet… I have my doubts. Fears. Many concerns. I can’t see
the operation going quite so swimmingly. The business has – I’d say
– many complex aspects. It’s not easy joining a movement in rebellion
against the regime in power. The leaders of the movement will almost
certainly put a fellow through a multitude of tests and trials – no
way could they be so naive and trusting towards anyone who applies
to join. One would surely have to submit to a number of tests before
winning their trust.
Dear me, no: this is turning out to be more complicated than
joining the army!
Why’s life so complicated, Lord?
All I want to do is mount a little military coup to remove the
current regime so that I can rule the country for a few years before
someone else comes along to mount a counter-coup against me…
Isn’t this the way things have been since the English left half a
century back?
Perhaps I’ll die in this counter coup. Why take the risk in the
first place, then?
Within me I heard a voice cry out: For the people!
The people? Who are they? I want to be in charge… I’m
not carrying out a coup for the sake of this “people” and their big
brown eyes.
But the voice insists, dinning against my eardrum: You’re chosen!
The hero of the change to come! You have to mount your coup as
quickly as possible in order to change the way things are and bring
liberty and happiness to the people.
This inner voice must be retarded. What do I care about the
people, about their liberty and happiness?
Listen up, miraculous voice: I want to be in charge, that’s all. Don’t
give me people and liberty and all the rest of it. My coup is none of
your business. It’s a top-secret operation and I can’t talk about it any
more if I want it to succeed. I mean, you can’t expect me to go around
chatting about the coup to every Tom, Dick and Harry like it’s some
stroll in the park. Why don’t you go about your business and leave
me to prepare my coup in my own time?
Ugh. These friends of mine are real arseholes. Why did I talk to
them about my operation? I should have shrouded the thing in total
secrecy like you’re meant to. Now they want to change my mind, after
I’ve just taken the biggest and most important decision of my life. I’d
decided to join the extremely well-armed movement, but my friends
quickly came up with a new idea.
Arghh. This isn’t good at all. I can’t think like this. My head’s all
out of whack. So many thoughts going through my brain at once. Too
much thinking isn’t healthy, that’s for sure.
Before the idea of joining the armed movement could settle
properly in my mind, my friends proposed another, persuasive idea,
one that seemed perfectly manageable. Out of the blue, and in dramatic
fashion, one said: “Listen here. Why don’t you try your hand at arms
dealing? It brings in big profits and you could do whatever you
wanted with your arsenal.”
Where do they come up with things like this?
Every idea they come up with is better than the last. They must
know a lot about life and how things work! The idea of arms dealing
appealed to me. It made me so happy that more than once I jumped
with unrestrained joy. What an idea. So many positives! Firstly, the
proceeds from selling arms would give me vast piles of international
currency, and I can’t mount a coup without cash. Why didn’t I think
of this diabolical idea before? Secondly, arms dealing will give me
access to the best weapons around, with which I can carry out my
coup against the current regime.
Pure genius! All the days I’ve spent thinking about this business,
the idea never occurred to me. It’s very strange. These drunken
friends have the capacity to come up with any number of inspired
ideas. Is it the booze? Can booze make you think this way? I’ve never
drunk alcohol before. Many times in our sessions together my friends
have urged me to sample cups glittering with ice, so dazzling and
inviting. But I turned them down firmly because I knew that drinking
alcohol’s haram – alcohol is not permitted by divine law and those
who drink it are bound for the Fire.
Then how is it that ideas like this can descend on drinkers? It’s
odd. Astonishing.
I shan’t trouble myself by pondering such esoteric issues; they’ll
only lead me into complications, which will divert me from the issue
at hand, the issue for which I have allocated all my strength and
mental powers.
The inner voice, which I forgot while busy planning, has popped
up from some hiding place or other and wants to ruin all my hard
work with its exasperating yelps. Listen to what it’s saying: You’re
heading down a rocky road. Don’t be so naïve! Arms dealing isn’t easy.
Plus, it’s immoral. Drop it, I beg you.
What does this fellow want with me? I wish I’d never met him,
but here he is, every day, ruining whatever plans I’m working on.
More than once I’ve told him to leave me alone, but he’s stubborn.
He doesn’t want to leave me. He says that I’m naïve, that any fool
could fool me. He’s really unbearable, this guy. How could someone
like me be naïve, someone who’s embarking on a coup to overthrow
the regime? Is there any simpleton, any fool, capable of planning
an intricate operation like this one? I know he wants to trick me,
to divert me from carrying out the plan, so that I don’t become a
household name throughout the world after being appointed ruler
over all that the borders of this vast country encompass.
He’s jealous. Scared I’ll leave him hunched in his gloomy inner
caverns while I stand forever beneath the spotlight’s glare. The type
of person who never wishes his fellow man well. A type you find
everywhere – he doesn’t want to move forward, and he won’t let