Where Are The Godfathers?

BENEDICT Obunem’s greatest passion and desire was to be rich, either by hook or crook. He resigned from his former place of work because he felt he was earning peanuts. His utmost desire was to be on his own in the risky world of business. The get- rich- quick bug had eaten deep into his body and soul. He disclosed to his close friends that he would be very rich in some few months time. He boasted that he knew the secret of making megabucks and would be a multi- millionaire within a short time. That very day when he dropped his letter of resignation to the marketing manager of Tilux Group of Companies, it was like a joke, but sincerely, he meant every word in the letter. ‘ You definitely cannot interpret what is in a man’s mind by merely looking at his face,’ goes an old saying.

“I’m tired of collecting little crumbs from the master’s table,” he bluffed that sunny afternoon to the surprise of his boss. Benedict had actually made up his mind to dust off the shameful particles of poverty, penury and lack. Really, it wasn’t that he had gotten another job with a better package but he felt he wouldn’t continue to waste his precious time on a job that couldn’t fetch him the luxuries of life and make it possible to live his dream. Benedict was in his early 30s and he felt he had the whole world on his palm, what with the company of rich friends that swarm around him. He was a university graduate with a degree in Sociology. But he was not the kind of person to keep hoping for a better tomorrow. He had bigger things up his sleeves. The three years he spent working with Tilux Group of Companies, to him, was a sheer waste of time.

Patience was something majority of youths hate with frenzied passion. Even though the management of the company promised to elevate him very soon, it fell on deaf ears. He was not someone who believed in the Stoic’s philosophy of endurance, hope and perseverance. ‘ To hell with patience and endurance,’ he must have reasoned.

“Damn it, I’ve made up my mind to reap the bounties of life and live in complete utopia!” Benedict concluded as he stormed out of his boss’ office that eventful Tuesday morning.

The following weekend, Benedict was with some of his rich friends, carousing and enjoying the bliss of life in a highly expensive and exquisite three- star hotel located in highbrow Victoria Island, Lagos. Big time business deals were always planned and discussed in posh environments, just like the location of this meeting. He was mapping out the next strategy that would bring him windfall of money as he was eager to join the billionaires’ club. Benedict was tall, light- skinned and handsome. He had a glossy and shiny moustache, with a cool disposition.

As Benedict was chatting lively with his friends and sipping choice wine in between, a robust- looking, bald- headed man wearing a flowing brown guinea brocade strolled gaily towards them.

“How are you doing gentlemen?” the pot- bellied man asked politely.

“We are doing real fine, Chief Donald!” enthused one of the young men sitting close to Benedict. Instantly, the whole gathering of friends stood up and paid obeisance to the elderly man.