I. The Illness
Govt: “Fellow Nigerians, the president is sick… he’s in a London hospital.”
Nigerians: “Which hospital?”
Govt: “London hospital in London ”
Nigerians: “Does the hospital have no name?”
Govt: “Just… London hospital.”
Days turned to weeks,
Weeks into whispers,
Whispers into months,
And our president became a myth.
No face, no word, no proof of breath.
Nigerians,
“Where is Buhari?”
Govt said,
“U.K hospital in London.”
But none could find him,
Not on Harley Street,
Not in Chelsea,
Not in all the NHS registry.
II.
His wife went on lesser hajj,
Not to London the husband is.
We asked Aisha,
“Why Saudi, not beside your lovely husband?”
She said, “No comment.”
Zahra vanished from Twitter.
Facebook shut.
Instagram muted.
Social silence from the First Family.
Even shadows couldn’t trace their loyalty.
Osinbajo said,
“The president is resting well.”
But Buhari became a ghost in silk babanriga.
III.
Tinubu: “I saw him. He is hale and hearty.”
Ambode: “He laughed with me.”
Fayose: “I want to confirm this too.”
Govt: “No, you can’t see him.”
Umahi: “He looked young, like a cloned angel. But he didn’t speak.” can you say that again?
Nigerians: “Why doesn’t he speak?”
Charley Boy screamed:
“Our Mumu Don Do!”
“We can’t be ruled by portrait and mystery.”
He protested.
They beat him.
Bones cracked like old radios.
Rochas Okorocha: I saw the president in London, that’s all I can say..
They better not play with me, or, or what?
Asari Dokubo mocked:
“70-year-old man! You never see beating yet!”
One man painted green-white-green,
Knocked on Abuja House in London:
“Tell our president to speak, to show face, to prove life!”
Seven hours later, -Boom!
Breaking News:
“Buhari Returns to Nigeria!”
Nigerians: “How so sudden?”
Govt: “Rats and lizards damaged the Aso Villa office. He will now rule from Daura.”
IV. The Cabal
Days went by.
Weeks crawled.
Cabinet meetings cancelled,
The nation ruled by silence.
Aisha broke eventually:
“Two men now run Nigeria, -not my husband.”
“Don’t call me Wife of the President. I am First Lady. Deal with it.”
She packed her bags.
Zahra gone.
All of them, -gone.
Dubai became the new First Family quarters.
V. The Mock Birthday
Buhari’s birthday:
Photos surfaced.
Staff clapping.
But no Aisha.
No children.
Just cake and staged smiles.
Nigerians:
“Where’s the family of the president?”
Govt:
…Silence.
VI. The Second Death
And now…
He died. Again.
This time, officially.
But Katsina, -his hometown.
They didn’t mourn.
They danced.
They ululated.
They sang freedom songs.
No dirges.
No silence.
Only:
“Sai Baba don go at last!”
Because in eight years,
He left no visible gift,
No policy that soothed the poor,
Only poverty statistics and broken dreams.
Aisha is still in Dubai.
His children never stood beside his sick bed,
Never joined him in final hour.
A ghost died.
And his people thanked the heavens.
VII. The Moral
So let every ruler take heed, -Power is a rented cloak.
It fades.
It falls.
It forgets even those who wear it with pride.
When your time comes,
What shall echo in your name?
The pain you caused,
or the peace you delivered?
The hunger you fed,
or the hope you buried?
For Buhari,
His second death raised no monument,
Only memes and relief,
Silence from those who knew him best,
And jubilation from the people he left behind.
This is no satire.
This is Nigeria’s cautionary tale.
A story of power without compassion,
leadership without presence,
and legacy without love.
#TheDayHeDiedAgain
#OurMumuDonDo
#LegacyIsEverything
King Eze
www.tori4town.online
