The Red Nigerian

[JJSmithJr]

Kano, Nigeria, Midnight, Communist Party Headquarters.

Private and secured back room.

Dikembe Olliwaaru wasn't your normal Nigerian Communist. The Nigerian Communist Party wasn't much of a party at all frankly. Most of it's ragtag members were either dirt poor tenant farmers or dirt poor city workers who held the lowest positions in Nigerian society. The Party had floundered under its image as an unorganized, unfunded, and chaotic organization that could not lead itself much less the nation. Dikembe sought to change all of that. He was tall, fit, young, and handsome. He was dressed in an expensive hand cut hand fitted suit. He was the son of one of Kano's wealthiest and most respected businessmen. He had a foreign education, first at Oxford, then Columbia University in America. He was well spoken and extremely conscientious, and as of ten minutes ago, he had just been selected as the new head of the Communist Party of Nigeria. He lit a menthol and took a long slow drag. At 29 he was the youngest leader of the party in its fifty year history. He was sure he was the best leader they had had, and despite the parties lack of popularity, Dikembe was confident. The Jonathan Government though perceived as strong was weak and losing touch with everyday Nigerians. As foreign investment and foreign trade continue to allow capital to flow freely, thousands of Nigerians remain in poverty while a few get rich. He knew he could capitalize on this.

He finished his cigarette and put the butt out in the glass ashtray on his new desk. He observed it smoldering for some time, lost in his own thoughts. The plumes of smoke wafting upwards through the air. There was a knock and the door opened. Jerking his attention up. His secretary walked in and handed him a note. He read it and smiled.

"You can go home now Cynthia, we are done for the day. I'll lock everything up and follow you out."

 

[JJSmithJr]

Kano, Nigeria, Dawn, Olliwaaru Estate.

Private and Secured Property.

Dikembe studied the numbers carefully. He was woefully aware of the fact most of the youth in his country did not know his party existed. He knew that must change, no communist revolution had been won without the youth and he knew he needed them. He would get them. He had an ideology that could combat fundamentalist Islam and give the poor youth of Northern Nigeria a different cause to rally behind. This note from Imam Ibrahim Notalyia was all he needed to put his plan into motion.

Notalyia was descended from Chechnyan immigrants, but despite his families short time in Kano they had quickly become important and Notalyia was the most influential Imam in Nigeria. His Mosque in Kano had the largest reach in Nigeria and funded schools and other branch Mosques throughout the country. He had just signed up to help Dikembe and tomorrow he would be mixing the words of Marx, Lenin, Trotsky, and Mao into his speaches and those of his satellites. They would begin to be taught in Muslim Schools. It was a major victory and a secret one. The Jonathan government was staunchly anti Islamist and anti Communist the idea that the most powerful Imam had embraced Islamic Communism would surely not be met with welcome news from the government. Fortunately the National Guard and Army were small and inconsequential and since the end of the Boko Haram insurgency, autonomy in large scale had been granted to the Northern states. This autonomy would allow them to spread their message safely and effectively. Dikembe was sure of it.

He rose from his chair and walked outside. The sun was breaking the horizon and a beautiful sunrise filled the sky. He lit a menthol and soaked it all in. His revolution had gained a powerful ally today. Soon after a reasonable sized youth wing had been formed it would be time for public rallies. He was ready to bring his fusion of Islam and Communism to Africa and the world. He was excited. He took a long drag out of his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing. He could feel his blood preasure rise with excitement. He had secured his first major victory as party leader. Already the rest of the high ranking members of the party were congratulating him and themselves for selecting him to lead. He would now have to find a way to convince the rest of the country that his party could lead. The South would be more difficult, but it must be turned to support him before the election. The mountain before him was vaste. He took another drag and crushed the cigarette on the ground under his shoe. He had to shower. It would be a busy day.

 

[JJSmithJr]

Kano, Nigeria, Dawn, Kano National Mosque

Private and Secured Property.

Ibrahim Notalyia descended the steps of his pulpit at the National Mosque of Kano. He had just given a rousing khutbah and across Nigeria within his network Imams in many Mosques had given similar khutbahs. Their message was clear. Western capitalists had taken advantage of the Muslims of Nigeria. They had robbed them of their wealth and their opportunity. Quotes from Marx and Lenin were read from the pulpits. The Communist Manifesto was handed out in Ibrahim's madrassases. The Islamic Youth would be radicalized in a new form of Islam. An Islam united with the doctrine of the worker. Ibrahim sighed as he entered the private back room. His new friend and political partner was waiting for him.

Dikembe Olliwaaru was indeed and impressive and imposing man. As the two men shook hands Ibrahim noticed the strength behind the handshake.

"You have done us and our revolution proud Ibrahim. I am sure of the effectiveness of our strategy."

Ibrahim was used to such confidence from Dikembe. The young party leader had not seen what Ibrahim had seen. He did not know the power of organized firepower and organized armies. He was young and idealistic. He wasn't afraid. Ibrahim most certainly was.

"My messages and those of my Imams is carried to every corner of Nigeria, we must tread carefully lest we attract too much attention from the Jonathan government. Their forces are dangerous and grow more dangerous everyday."

Dikembe seemed to mull this over for a moment. He lit a cigarette and handed to Ibrahim before lighting one for himself. He puffed on it in silence for the longest five minutes of Ibrahim's life. He would abruptly nod and speak.

"You are right of course. The reactionaries in our government must be watched with care and serious concern. We must not get ahead of ourselves and out step our popularity. You will let me know if any officials come knocking I assume."

Dikembe would turn and walk out of the office in an instant. Saying nothing more but leaving Ibrahim in a deep silence. Ibrahim would gather himself before taking a seat at his desk to continue his work. He would be sure to call Dikembe if anyone came to see him. The ambition in the man's eyes frightened Ibrahim. He had seen it before in Chechnya.

 

[JJSmithJr]

Kano, Nigeria, Evening, Olliwaaru Estate.

Private and Secured Property.

Dikembe looked at the young man standing before him with a smirk. He was certain of this young man's leadership abilities. He had watched him carefully ever since he had joined the party. Now the two of them were alone. They had much to discuss. As they slowly meandered the property they would eventually come to the porch. Dikembe would light a cigarette and speak.

"And what do you think? Do you think we can take these young boys and girls and turn them into real communists? Can you do it Mbolo?"

Mbolo Jefferson was originally from Lagos and had moved to Kano to work construction on his 18th birthday. That was three years ago. He lived in a tiny project style tenement. He shared water, facilities, and kitchen with ten other poor working Nigerians who broke their backs to build the city that they lived in such squalor. Mbolo had been radicalized the first time he had stumbled upon a torn copy of The Little Red Book by Mao Tse-Tsung. He was an avid Maoist and a had been vital to the power shift that had brought Dikembe up and into power. He knew a strongman when he saw one and Dikembe was that. Mbolo himsepf was no slouch, he was lean and strong. He had a strong mind for organization and meticulousness although he lacked the finer use of language he made up for it with determination in leadership.

He had just gotten the biggest news of his life, and news he had been expecting if he were being honest. He was to be placed in charge of the Youth Wing of the Nigerian Communist Party. This would grant him a seat on the High Council of the Party, and give him real power and responsibility in the revolution to come. His ears were still ringing with the news when he heard his leaders question break the cool evening air.

He was confident in the abilities of himself and in the pervasiveness of the doctrine in his possession. He was even more confident that the youth of Nigeria wanted change. Especially in the rural North. Especially in Kano. Over the last week with a recruitment effort lead and financed by Dikembe and Imam Ibrahim Notalyia the youth membership in the party had exploded to nearly 5,000. 2,000 of whom lived within the city of Kano. The recruitment continued to go on in earnest even as they spoke. He looked at Dikembe.

"Aye sir, I'm confident with guidance and leadership our youth will make quite the proper communists. With use of Ibrahim's Mullahs and Mosques we will be able to spread our message effectively, but we will need educational supplies and we will need them quickly to capatalize on this additional interest in our party to ensure we create strong comitted party members."

Dikembe would nodd slowly as his Youth leader spoke.

"And roughly how many youth members does the party have?"

"Just over 5,000, with 2,000 here in Kano."

"Indeed it is time to seek aid from The International. Please send me two of your most idealistic members. We will make contact."

 

[JJSmithJr]

Christine Ogunda was young, beautiful, ambitious, and bright, she was a member of the Christian minority in Kano, although she believed very little about it. She was a communist. She had been a communist since birth. Her father was a communist. She had been a member of the party longer than the leader but she was happy to serve him. He was the strong leader the party needed. When Mbolo selected her to carry out a special liason mission she was delighted. Herself and her twin sister Mya would be the first people to make foreign contact with the international. She was excited and as her and Mya drove back to their apartment they sat in silence.

As they entered their apartment they would disappear into seperate rooms. They would dress in an appropriate almost genderless fashion, but their beauty was undeniable still. Like wisps they would walk out of their apartment back to their car. They would drive to the train station. Here they seperated and bought tickets on seperate trains to Lagos. They must be careful.

 

[JJSmithJr]

Kano, Nigeria, Evening, Olliwaaru Estate.

Private and Secured Property.


Dikembe Olliwaaru smiled widely. He was reading a the International News, and he had now a list of the new Russian government. A Soviet government. With stable and active communist governments in China, Southeast Asia, and now Russia, the Communist Party was doing very well abroad. Locally, the party was growing among the disenfranchised youth quickly. The almost continuous months now of government debts piling on to the economy only made things worse, especially in the cities. Especially in the North. Especially among the Youth. The once radically Muslim youth of Northern Nigeria were now only nominally Muslim. Their mosques were almost all wholly owned subsidiaries of the Nigerian Communist Party. They were committed to Lenin and Marx, not Muhammad, this had massive benefits for the party. Their radical youth wing had begun taking over and unionizing in the factories struggling with the economy in shambles. The large labor unions grew the party into the middle and lower classes and turned it from a simple Youth party into a leftist party with mainstream staying power. It was now nine months from the bi elections in Nigeria. The Communist Party would stand a candidate in every race in the country, and expected to win in many of them. Surely Dikembe expected to win here in Kano. Where he would be the youngest Governor in history. He was proud and he was happy. He smoked his cigarette slowly. He drank a beer. He was sure that his movement would secure its position in Nigerian history. He had meetings all week with the smaller leftist parties. It was possible many of them would not register candidates and would instead endorse Communist candidates, seeking to unseat the Establishment. He knew that while the Jonathan government was now silent and not directly attacking him, this wouldn't last. They were prepared to resist when necessary. Lawyers and media personnel had been hired. The Party was ready. He was ready.