He sits at a table, alone, like a deity, in a sequestered, oblong office at Freedom Park, Lagos, bedecked with papers, files and books. A level gaze from the solitary occupant trails the broken silence. In the partly dim office, his white, lush hair glows like a firefly. But his face buckles into a mild lour, like someone startled by the faintest of decibel, as Osa Amadi (Arts Editor of Vanguard) and I, led by Jahman Anikulapo, inch closer to his crowded table –we want him to autograph our complimentary copies of his just-presented offering, Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodest?
Moments ago, in another hall, he was shellacking former Nigerian president, Olusegun Obasanjo, for being a provocateur, in a feisty give-and-take with a cerebral quartet.
Genial smiles, in a twinkling. Recollections. “Yes, yes, yes, I remember you,” he says.
Taking my copy of the book to sign, he stills for a moment, and, with a mischievous smile playing on his lips, looks up. With a baritone voice laced with quibble, he says, “Why do you guys bear difficult names like Henry?”
We double over with laughter at the irony –all of us –as he picks a pen, his fingers running like a reindeer, and autographs my first name, “Henry”, leaving out the surname.
He smiles with a certain resignation, somewhat contritely. A cameo, offstage performance without ladida, that is.
We titter out of the office in a moment, taking away signed review copies and leaving behind a loud silence.
