Apocalypse

From time to time my friend Africa-Man, the mad scientist, calls me from his windswept hideout at the Institute for Study of Foreign Economies in Vladivostok and favors me with his views, some cock-eyed, some commonsensical, on the state of Nigeria and the world.

“The war in the Middle East will never end,” he says. “Come back in two thousand years and it’s still raging.”

“Why?” I ask, even if the answer is neither here nor there.

“Because it’s in the nature of things. We are all cannibals. We must devour each other in order to survive, and that’s all there is to it.”

“I guess Jews and Arabs don’t like one another very much,” I said.

“Neighbors may be neighbors for hundreds of years,” he said, “but neither side may like the other half as much as they like themselves.”

“Yeah, and they may kidnap their neighbors’ children and sell them to slave dealers . . .”

“Or make war on their neighbors, conquer them, take over their territory, seize their wives and force the men to hew their wood and fetch their water. . .”

“Shudders! Thank God we’re safe down here in good ole Naija!” I said.

“Safe ke!  You have Boko Haram, and the Fulani Militia preparing to attack.”

“As for that, I think our appeasement policy is working quite well.”

“Oh yeah? . . . It’s fight to finish, don’t fool yourself.”

“So what do we do, migrate?

“Where to?”

“Oh? Ghana, Kenya, South Sudan, South Africa.”

Africa-Man laughed and laughed and laughed.

“O. J., you don’t play dumb very well.”

“What to do, man, what to do. I only have another half century or so. Then I leave you guys to carry on de suffer.”

“De enjoy, nko?”

“As you like it.”

Prolonged silence.

“My friend, are you still there? What’s on your mind?”

“America . . .” he began.

“If America had only intervened in Syria in time, all might have

been well.”

“America,” said Africa-Man, “is a global disaster. Damned if they do and damned if they don’t. They are so confused they can’t tell anymore whether they should go right or go left or just stand on one spot.”

“America never used to be confused like that before,” I said.

“No, America was the world’s foremost expert on genocidal wars,” he said. “But, you see, those were simpler times when they wiped out the native Americans. Today is a much more complex world. Like, which faction exactly would you be fighting in Syria? To what purpose?”

“Yet and still, America can still save the world if it tries,” I said.

“America can’t save the world,” said Africa-Man. “America can’t even save itself.”

“What???”

“Well, for one thing, the humanitarian sentiment of welcome all refugees is at variance with the fear of terrorists is the beginning of wisdom.”

“Stunning . . . a dilemma worse than the gun-toting Second Amendment?”

“Exactly. Nothing can save the world,” he said. “The world will just stumble from disaster to disaster. All the daily news is of death after death after death. Brief flashes of joy, radiance—then it’s death, death, death!! Death dominates the news.”

“Africa-Man, you are in a sour mood today!”

“It’s not my mood, it’s the reality. Earthquakes. Landslides. Volcanoes. Hurricanes. Tidal waves. Floods. Fires…”

“Yeah, and then the man-made disasters—suicide bombings, machine-gun massacres . . .”

“People running helter-skelter seeking refuge and safety. But it’s all in vain…”

“What’s the world coming to!”

As if on cue, we each took a deep breath. Then Africa-Man resumed.

“Earth itself cannot escape its destiny. People and animals will continue to consume each other to survive. Food. They all need food. They cannot live a minute without eating each other. The mountains will go under the sea. The sea-beds will rise to become mountains and deserts and forests. Relentless change will transfigure the planet beyond recognition.”

“When all that change is taking place, where will mankind be? Where do we feature in such a drama?”

“As extras. Anonymous crowds. Bit parts, bit players. Totally forgettable. Gas, granite, “pre-historic.” Fossils to be dug up, pieced back together, studied and deciphered, theorized and debated by other beings in 10 billion years!”

“Na wah for you, Africa-Man! Where is your faith?”

“Faith? Don’t confuse issues, please. . . . I mean, it’s not as if this has never happened before. It has, although we don’t know with what frequency. But the rocks and sands and oil and diamonds all tell the same story.”

“Don’t you believe the priests and holy books?”

“The priests and poets and story-tellers try to make light of it to console the rest of us. But they know that they really know nothing at all about these matters…”

“A new Apocalypse? . . .”

“A Book of New Revelations . . . .”         

Onwuchekwa Jemie