The Sacred Cows Of Nigeria(The Honourable Untouchables).

Paulchrisen Okey Okereke.

We see them on our roads and streets, in droves and convoys, bloody and blood thirsty, guns blazing, sirens blaring, herds charging.

We see them even on the wooden and brick stages/platforms we call altar, climbing to spotlight, and speaking in our religious buildings with steeple.

They are revered by many and have the "touch not my anointed" tag around their necks and collar. Their adherents are at their mercy, whatever they say is law and binding, you dare not challenge them, even when they're conspicuously wrong, and if you dare it, you're outrightly given the label of a rebel. 

They fleece and even feed fat on the flock like ravening wolves, yet they hold themselves not guilty; they make merchandise of them and still say "blessed be the Lord; for I am rich". They pity not the sheep even the poor amongst them, who they always tell to keep sowing seeds till they sow their way out of poverty.

They are on the pew yet they are few. 

On the front and choicest seats in our meetings and feasts.

Fat envelopes they often drop like bomb, making the offering and tithe bags bulge at the seams. They devour public funds, they engage in sharp and immoral business practices but they are touted as pillars in the 'house of the Lord'; vessels of dishonour in the sight of the Lord yet the untouchables and honourables, highly esteemed by the men of men. They are the sacred cows, for whose sake, the truth in the lips of the preacher who feeds from them, must be compromised and sacrificed lest their ox is gored. 

Iniquitous and ubiquitous, they are everywhere; pervading and invading every facet of our society, and sector of our economy. Massive and larger than life, they appear in hoofs, fat legs, hunch backs and pot bellies; fiercely bullish and intimidating. Sacred cows that make most of us cower though we're not cowards. 

Little have we drank of the milk from their breast, little have the poor amongst us fed on the fatness of their meat.

For their sakes, ours have gone down being gunned down. Their armed guards have turned our streets crimson with the blood of our slain children. 

They ravage and ravish our farmlands and patrimony, in acrimony; that the earth may no longer yield it's increase of food to us, that we may be discouraged from farming and left to famish in famine.

They are in droves on the hills of Adamawa, basking in the sun on the plains of Benue, the food basket.

They graze in grass and not in grace, oppressing till they hit the grave in linen, not in lace.

They pass through our territories and the lush-plush gardens become like deserts.

They loot our treasury and leave us in penury.

They amass stupendous wealth and real estate, compassing land and sea to launder and ferry billions to foreign shores.

They trample and defecate on our grass and the downtrodden in our society.

BRUTE BEASTS THEY ARE. 

They are the fierce beasts of the nation. Not beasts of burden but brute beasts.

As brute beasts made to be taken and destroyed, they have no mercy in them, no knowledge or fear of God in them.

Their strength and power lies in their armed guards and men, and the charms/rituals they perform, to stay in form, ever strutting in the corridors of power, ever grazing through our choicest fields, while we watch from the sidelines like we're goats and the sycophant gluttons amongst us gloat; as they pass by and throw pieces of yam.

SACRED COWS THEY ARE. 

Sacred cows they are; they gore our country silly like bulls, leaving her to reel in pains of chronic economic haermorrhage.

Their temporal immunity makes them think they're divinity, thus they forget their frailty and humanity, acting with impunity. Their hearts are given to vanity as they revel in iniquity. The laws of the land were made for men, and not for them yet they made the laws. 

Indeed, all animals are equal but some appear to be more equal than others.

They must appear on two legs and not on four, just to perpetually disguise, deceive and run the rest of us like they're human and humane, while we are the untamed animals which they must subdue and tame, to maintain the animal farm. However, their water loo looms as the day of reckoning closes in on them. The curtain is drawn and they go down in the ashes of time as profane history.