By Mo. Babajide-Alabi
As I sat in his office reception on the 26th floor of the gigantic tower overlooking the Central Park, Manhattan, many thoughts were running through my mind. To be honest, I was only there physically but my mind seem to have taken a flight (out of anxiety and excitement). I was practically losing it as I shifted from one side of my buttock to the other, pretending to be sane and in control. I adjusted my tie for what seemed the 100th time, yet I still felt lightheaded because I had cut a good supply of air through my neck by how tightly I knotted the tie.
The security guards positioned at every corner of the building seemed to notice how jittery I was. Through the corner of my eyes I could see two or three of them whispering to each other. I also thought I saw one or two of them talking to no one particularly, only to realise they had earpieces on. They must have been talking about me, I said to myself.
My palm was all greasy now, from the excitement of sitting in this palatial outer office in the Tower. I looked around me, trying to recollect why I was sat there and how I got here. I was struggling with my mind as it would not stay still for me to think straight. The more I tried to bring to memories the events leading to my sitting here the more I broke out in cold sweat. Coupled with the frenzy of activities around me, it was practically impossible for me to breathe.
Stylishly, so as not to draw further undue attention to myself, I shook my head vigorously trying to clear my thoughts. It did not help in any way. I stole a glance to the right and left and quickly wiped my sweaty face with the “tail” of my tie. It was a swift moment, and in a second I tucked the tie back in place.
What a relief this was. For the first time since my arrival at the Tower I noticed the effect of the many air conditioning units “blowing” in the office. I adjusted myself again on the massive sofa, and gradually I could feel all the “fuzziness” clearing away from my head. I saw one of the lady receptionists smiling at me and I smiled back at her.
She was a black woman. Maybe that was why I noticed her. But she was not the only black staff in the inner office at the Tower. In my state of confusion, I tried to do an headcount of how many coloured people were in the reception room. Not for any racial profiling, but to dispute the popular notion that the Tower do not tolerate people of colour.
Before I could finish this exercise, the main office door swung open and a tall lanky, ‘ginger-haired’ seventy year old man walked through. Everybody was at attention.
Donald Trump! I whispered to myself.
The legendary Donald Trump. Whaoh! I exclaimed under my breath.
He looked a little less different from what I had been used to seeing on television. Although he was standing a few metres away from me, I could not shut out the memorable pictures of him, as portrayed by the media. I closed my eyes momentarily in an attempt to get back to reality, but this only made it worse. All my head could process at this time was him, through 2016, on various stages promising his supporters that he would “make America great again“.
Now I was struggling between reality and the vision in my head. I was not concentrating any more.
Then in a fraction of a second I heard:
“Baba (pronounced Barber), where is Baba? Where is he?”
That was me Trump was asking of. My heart almost leaped out of mouth, as I was shaking literally on the sofa. I could feel myself “about to die”, but the shout of “Baba” brought me back to life. This was getting too much for me. What was all these and how did I find myself here?
“Baba“, the voice thundered!
There was no time for me to think any more. I helped myself out of the sofa in one clean sweep, almost losing my balance. “Your Excellency!“, I said with a great deal of humility.
In all these, I find “myself” asking myself if “Your Excellency” was not really a Nigerian thing. Does it apply to the United States of America? At that moment I cared less.
I repeated “Your Excellency“, and stepped forward, with all eyes on me. He seemed very excited to see me.
“Come here, you burger“, he said excitedly. I stepped closer to him, grabbed the hand he extended to me. I am not a small man in frame, but I must say my hand got “lost” in his palm. We both looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. It was a smile of understanding. A smile of “I know your journey”, “I know how you were told you would not make it, yet you did”.
Within seconds, the outer door opened and journalists “poured” into the room. They positioned themselves and took pictures of us shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. At this time, I had pushed aside all the excitement and anxieties and I blended. I brought to focus the images of Nigel Farage, Kanye West, Steve Harvey and lately Michael Gove when they came calling.
This was my moment in history. I felt so “high I really touched the sky” just the way Farage felt when he visited. The cologne of this man intoxicated me. I said a silent prayer to the Lord, “help me Lord so after leaving here I don’t lose it like Farage to think I am super human”.
“Good to see you, Baba“, he said, still holding on to my hand and sometimes pumping it for emphasis.
“Thank God you made it“, he said above all the commotion in the room.
I replied: “Thank God you made it sir. I am particularly happy for you. Nobody thought you could ever make it.”
He nodded his head and said: “Everybody wrote me off,” the journalists were all ears now. Some of them writing, while others brought out their dictaphones.
“They all wrote me off! They did not realise that the thoughts of human beings are not the same as the Lord’s. They said I was not good enough to be elected but here I am,” he put his right hand across my shoulder and smiled once again into my eyes. I nodded in agreement as I held him close to my side. At this moment in history, he was my guy and I wasn’t going to let him off.
“Mr President ...” I started off, but he hijacked it from me.
“Baba, tomorrow is the BIG DAY. I thank God you made it. I know your worries for me all the while, but I am humbled by the simple fact that the people believed in me and came out in support.
“The lesson I have learnt in this, as if I didn’t know in my business “journeys”, is never to write yourself off, no matter the criticism or condemnation. I was written off, laughed at, ridiculed at the highest level, called so many names – racist, woman “basher”, Russia apologist etc, I was told my day of shame was approaching, but the Almighty Father turned it around for me,” he said.
I “poked” him and laughed at his remark that the Almighty Father made it possible for him. I was not expecting that at all.
“Gentlemen of the press, please join me in welcoming Baba, who had come all the way from the United Kingdom, to witness my inauguration as the 45th President of the United States. He played a great role in our becoming the President of this great nation. From day one, he was always sending prayer points to the campaign team. It is instructive to know that these prayer points were focused on how to have victories over our opponents. I must confess that these prayers points were indeed useful in winning the “war”“, he said.
There was applause from the staff in the office. I felt really proud of myself. I raised my head and looked straight at the cameras because I knew the focus was on me now. I would have loved to adjust my tie again but who cared.
He looked around, nodded at a tall, well proportioned gorgeous black lady and said “Please make sure Baba is made welcome, feel at home and comfortable. He is a jolly good fellow and you will enjoy him.” The lady nodded and winked at me conspiratorially. My heart jumped as I thought of what the lady might be thinking in her head on what “to do to me” when only two of us leave the Tower.
At this time, the President-elect turned to me, grabbed my hand again and said “Baba, enjoy yourself.” Like a flash, he was gone behind the massive door frame at the Tower.
The lady walked towards me, extended her hands and said “Baba, shift, you have taken over all the space on the bed. You are almost pushing me off the bed.”
I turned around and I realised I was on the bed, in my room and my wife was nudging me to make space for her on the side of the bed.
“What?” I said as I reached for the bedside lamp. It was 3:12am (UK time).
I had been dreaming.
The thoughts of Donald Trump as the next president of the US has been on my mind through out this week. The media had not helped at all, as at every opportunity all we read, hear and watch is Trump Presidency “this”, Trump Presidency “that”.
Many things have been over analysed and connected with the Trump Presidency. Everyday we hear Russia and Trump, Climate Change and Trump, Sex and Trump, NATO and Trump, Immigrants and Trump etc. I must have allowed these to sip into me subconsciously and the reason for the dream.
As Donald Trump becomes the next American President tomorrow and effectively the most powerful individual in the world, I wish him all the best in his “reign”. The man that was said cannot be trusted with the nuclear code now has more that the nuclear code to contend with.
This can be you! If you have the faith in yourself.
Donald, do not disappoint your supporters. Here is wishing you all the best.