From the rockies to the Hudson, to the Potomac, beyond the great sand spread of the Sahara, to the river Naija, the end is on its way
―Don Okolo
Life as we know it could be coming to an end. That is not a figure of speech. I have consulted with the shamans and medicine men, from the world’s renowned rainforests, from the swamplands of the Pantanal, to the critter-burdened monsoon regions of the far east, to make sacrifice to their gods and bring me their opinion of success of the world’s continued existence.
These chief priests donned the vestments that allowed them to pass through the gateway into each person’s shrine, where the deity he or she worship was mounted. Here, I was told, they roared in gibberish, drawn-out invocations as they poured libation, seeking the fate of the world going forward from two weeks ago into the future.
Just as yesterday was breaking, the calls finally began to come in. The news I was getting from these modern-day shamans and voodoo priests were disorienting. At a point, I thought I was under the influence of THC (Tetrahydrocannabinol) They indicated Russia, and Saudi Arabia as the nations to watch…the ones that would most likely throw the first punch to start a fight with a neighbor, because they believe their egos were stepped on. Sinbad, the shaman from the Hindu village of Secunderabad, told me, that North Korea, is simply a hound dog with an ear-splitting bark, but with no teeth. Do not worry about that country as a threat, but as the vast spread of zombie-like minions the United Nations would soon divvy up and put on the auction block.
The news worsened: The gangly, one-eyed shaman, Eaglewings, of the Sioux Nation, told me point-blankly to watch the monkey’s hand in the broth because it looks like a man’s hand…especially that small-fingered carpels and meta-carpels he knows belong to Johnny Collins. Johnny Collins, he said, lives up north, in a white painted behemoth that belongs to the people. Shaman Eaglewings was steadfast; his voice rang with the same vibrating drone as that of a tornado touching ground, begging me with uncanny, forceful entreaties not to ignore this one message from the gods. The United States, he warned, would fall like the Roman Empire did centuries ago, if she did not follow the pathway.
The Absolute One had proffered for her come November 2020. Shaman Eaglewings called me back a second time, one minute after midnight to rant some more. At that moment, he said, he was soaring over the people’s house, eavesdropping on the talkathon Johnny Collins was spewing into the ears of this other toothless greyhound in the Siberia wasteland, regarding how he would manage the affairs of this great nation he is in charge of, if he were successful in fooling these fools out of the Vidorville boondocks and the Hills of Charlottesville a second time. The scheme is mind-boggling and beyond comprehension, it would usher in dire catastrophic breakdowns, enough to push the nation into a murky dystopian realm. Just before he hung up, Shaman Eaglewings gave me an extra…a twofer. The country you originated from, Nigeria, he told me, has a Johnny Collins wannabe. The two do not know this; they are joined at the hip. Johnny Collins here, and Mohammed over there, have maws, fangs, and dewlaps, enough to chew the world to pieces. You should listen to what your country’s notorious voodoo priest, Ajo Ofia Egbebelu, has to say about your country’s strongman and his plan to destroy Christianity.
The country you originated from, Nigeria, he told me, has a Johnny Collins wannabe. The two do not know this; they are joined at the hip
And I have been told by each legend, that they could not find the heart within the beast. That the hurly burly is done, and that the battle brewing could be lost. For those of you afraid to die, you should be shaking in your boots. It may not be the frequency of the deaths of acceptable norms that we witness in that short span of time that we should be afraid of; we should be very afraid of the decay in the body polity that would keep us marching with our heads wedged deep in our rear ends like the North Koreans, to the point we would never be fit of mind, nor see clearly ever again to figure anything.
It could be the rigors of a certain kind of rapture that would pass through the walls of your home, or through the steel, reinforced cages that cover the hole you have dug for your family to stay safe when the dissonances of bliss and mayhem are strung together to a powerful wand and then pointed at you. You and members of your family would be reclined awright, in a corner of the house, as you seek refuge and protection from the scorching tentacles of this evil. At that point, the color of your skin could and would not save you; the forces of this one darkness is supreme and relentless in her pursuits; she would pull you into her bosom to savor the corrupt, filthy and grubby fumes emanating from her dearest. And this one prediction of the end could be around the corner…as in say, before the year 2024…that is, if we were dumb enough to vote for the wrong one.
Like racism, the proliferation of this new brand of wickedness is systemic; it has been roiling loudly, and spreading wildly, since 2016, with the same efficacy as the gradual spendthrift of molten magma following its course. It needed four years to test the waters for it to build strenuous humps about its body perimeter to assure indefatigable (dogged) followership. And it is looking as if the immensely polluted asteroid on the dry scorched dirt road has succeeded. It is looking as if the orange-colored anarchist has rented a space in each of the heads of those that look like him; that the malevolent narcissist could have found a way to con the Devil, too. If you looked deeply into the shenanigans and tenets of his own game rules, and you would find that Satan is holding an empty bag stuffed with hair follicles from his pubic areas. The mantra of him getting away with murder is therefore true. He has gotten away with much worse. Now, he is coming for your souls.
This is the quintessential version of the intrepid (fearless) embroidery of disgusting vileness. It is these entities combined, that would put that damper on the freedom we know, and then eventually would choke the rest of humanity out of existence with red-hot embers of burning coal. I am predicting that Nigeria, just like the United States, would clamor weakly and die off in this feeding-frenzy times. This end of days had been predicted. The theory of world domination has been walking besides us. Death that is imminent has awesomeness to its power, you could not smell your own excrement. We are under that Jujitsu grip our eyeballs are bulged and would be wrung out of their sockets with the next squeeze, if we do not rewrite these pallid, torturing courses. The United States is savvy enough she could change trajectory, even at lightspeed, to save herself. With Nigeria? Well, her dyed-in-the-wool determination to Islamize the country far outweighs all other policies driving her.
The evangelicals, the erstwhile great arbiters of true religion now turned chaperons of this virus-styled person, would be left out to drown in their own filth.
This brings me to the One and only Deity whose Angels are conducting these various pods of jam sessions to ameliorate Divine anger. If they stopped playing, Noah days would be upon us. We would be forced into a scramble to find sitting in the dingy. The evangelicals, the erstwhile great arbiters of true religion now turned chaperons of this virus-styled person, would be left out to drown in their own filth. It is upon them that that Singularity of Divine anger is anchored. Look no further; it is in the robes they are wearing, in the countenance they bore, and in the things they say. Look into their marriages and you would find the kind of moral sophistry (dishonesty) to fit the ethics of a roadside whore. And they are doing so wearing the vestments reserved for High Priests, clamoring in high-powered articulation, the virtues of that same morals they propagate in falsehoods. It was on this vein that God abandoned the Israelites for fall fouling His Temple: He had them living in foreign lands until just recently. As I see it, this is the beginning of the end of days…to have this many people have their pockets picked in broad daylight. As Lyndon Johnson would say: (Translated) a lowlife, poor white person would choose a white con artist over the greatness of a black man. Give him someone to look down on, someone he believes he is better than, and he will empty his pockets for you. He wouldn’t know you were actually picking those pockets.
♦ Don Okolo, Professor and filmmaker, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of many books.
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