Your Excellency Sir, rather than bore you with hackneyed pleasantries of asking about the weather conditions in Kogi State, permit me to proceed expeditiously to the purpose of this letter, which is to tell you a story. This idea is inspired by an ancient Roman practice whereby storytellers were invited to tell stories in the royal court whenever the emperor was weighed down with grief and needed some diversion to cheer him up. Needless to add that some of the storytellers ended up having their tongues cut off for telling stories that turned out unpleasant to the emperor’s ear.
Anyway, mine is a long story and l must seek your indulgence to do well by me for cutting it short in due recognition of your tight schedule in the face of life’s brutal vicissitudes.
Your Excellency, there was a famous sculptor called Gorelal. He was reputed for sculpting human statues that looked exactly like real human beings. One day, he saw a dream that after fifteen days, the God of Death would send the Demon of Death to bring him. At first he waved the matter aside as a mere dream, but on second thoughts, he considered that it was safer to err on the side of caution.
So, Gorelal prepared nine sculpted statues of himself and when on the 15th day he heard the Demon of Death coming, he took his place between the statues and blended in with them.
Your Excellency, as you might have conjectured, the Demon could not recognise him and was confused to see ten Gorelals instead of one. Then he rushed back to the God of Death and narrated the matter to him.
“My Lord, dear God of Death, there are ten Gorelals and l’m hardpressed to decipher which is which,” he reported.
“This is the trouble with you messengers of death,” God of Death fumed. “You cannot so much as run a simple errand without coming back in vain; and that’s why those arrogant mortals challenge me each time l want to remove them from that wretched earth of theirs!”
So, the God of Death got annoyed and set out to take Gorelal by himself. Gorelal was alert and stood motionless among the statues.
On seeing the statues standing rigid like soldiers on a single formation, the God of Death initially got perplexed. But he thought for a moment and facing the statues, he said, “Gorelal, these sculptures would have been perfect but for one mistake.”
Now, Gorelal was a man who could not bear to suffer the least blemish in his work. No one dared spot an imperfection in his work for he believed that he was the lord and master of his art.
“Gorelal,” the God of Death called out again. “There’s one mistake in your sculpture.”
Unable to bear such insufferable insolence, Gorelal jumped out and asked, “Where is the mistake?” Then God of Death seized him by the scruff of the neck and said, “You are the mistake!”
Your Excellency, be assured that there was nothing wrong with Gorelal’s statues. He certainly knew his art.
I am not a good judge of human character but it seems to me that his knowledge appeared to have gotten into his head, forcing him to play into the cunning hands of death. Your Excellency must have noticed too that the case of Gorelal and his likes is one that speaks to the imperative of restraint from self-opinionated propensities, particularly among men entrusted with power.
Your Excellency, be assured that Gorelal was not alone in his hubris. Many of us are worse, with no less a personality than Ronald Reagan presenting a spectacular example. One day, Ronald Reagan gave a speech in Mexico. As you already know, Reagan was the 40th President of the United States who served from 1981 to 1989. He was the Governor of the State of California when he gave the speech in question. After delivering his speech which, of course, was rendered in English Language to a Spanish-speaking audience, he noticed that nobody clapped for him and he sat down feeling embarrassed. The next speaker after him addressed the audience in Spanish which Reagan didn’t understand. He felt even more embarrassed to find that the speaker was receiving a loud ovation whereas nobody clapped for him after his own speech. To hide his embarrassment, he also started clapping for the speaker, even much louder and longer than everyone else!
Unknown to Reagan, it was his own speech that the speaker was interpreting to the Spanish-speaking audience! Reagan was in effect clapping for himself! The US ambassador by his side leaned over and whispered to him, “l wouldn’t do that if l were you; he’s interpreting your speech.”
Recalling the incident later, Reagan told his fellow Americans that his embarrassing display of ignorance and pride on that occasion taught him a lesson in humility in spite of his exalted office as Governor of California. Apparently, Reagan learnt a lesson for which reason, perhaps, he lived to tell the story so that his fellow Americans would change their pompous ways. On the other hand, our dear Gorelal, the famous sculptor, unfortunately, was not as lucky as Reagan.
Your Excellency, while wishing you the best of luck in your present face-off with the authorities, it is my fervent hope that you may find the content of this letter refreshing and, perhaps, inspiring so that you’d be further energized to carry on with the struggle for your freedom.
*Anthony-Spinks writes from Asaba, Delta State.
