My father was a smoker. He knew it was bad for his health, he would say, "Something must kill a man!" But that wasn't what killed him. He was shot.
Anyway, there were two things that made my father sad, and a third that made him angry. A drunk woman and a poor person who's arrogant, made him sad. Smoked escapes his mouth as he spoke, the smell different from the one uncle James smokes.
He inhaled again and puffed smoke sideways before he said, "But, you see a rich man that lies! That...that makes me angry!" He clinched his teeth, rippling his jaw muscles.

The following week, two days before i turned eleven, a meeting concerning upcoming election was held. The town hall that reeked of sweat and bad breath, was cramped and crowded. People divided themselves into similar group of interest and conversed. Everyone poured their opinions at once; a hubbub.

Siren echoed from outside, but I was too short and was obstructed by the virile men towering around me. The noise gradually unified and people started hailing the aspiring candidate.

A praise that died down, fading slowly till it was quiet again. Through an opening in between bodies, i saw the stout man wearing a red chieftaincy cap. His wide smile exposed wipe open teeth. Then, his hoarse voice-as though a frog lodged in his throat-yelled, "PAC!"

"POWER! POWER!" The crowd bellowed.

My father waited until it was quiet before he said, "UMUIBE, MMA MMA NU!"

"HEH!" the crowd thoughtlessly responded.

My father strolled to the front. My hairs stood on ends as he trailed me along. Like fire to nylon, the crowd shrank as he walked, paving a path. He didn't climb onto the the small pavement the candidate stood.

He started, "A man does not use ice block to build a house!" Later, he would tell me, that proverb is mine; I formed it!

Murmur waved around the crowd accompanied by several nods.
"When driving into this village yesterday night," he continued firmly, "My headlight-apart from the moon-was the only source of light on the streets! Tell me, Umuibe, why is nobody talking about the roads? about the abandoned schools? isn't this village part of the state?" He allowed silence to know if they reasoned with him. He looked into few familiar eyes before he continued, "Do you want to hear lies? I will tell them to you myself! I will repair the roads! I will build schools! I will open boreholes! I can continue but for the sake of our candidate who has called this meeting, I will stop there." His voice became sober, "So before you listen to his promises, know that that was what the last office promised us, but our legs are still covered in dust during hammatern, puddles here and there during the raining season! Umuibe, a word isn't enough for us for we aren't wise!"

Even the hall was old, built by our forefathers, he told me later that night while smoking.