Before he departed for the wilderness, he had left a prayer on his Instagram page for his three million fans. After thanking God for making him wealthy, he begged the Almighty to shame those seeking to bring His beloved Hushpuppi to shame. Over 70,000 persons chorused Amen.
If he had had a better premonition, he might have chosen the right background for that prayer post. A church building rather than a gleaming Rolls Royce bought with stolen money might have touched God. Unfortunately, some FBI agents rather than social media gnats were already on their way to the Versace Apartments in Dubai.
The extraordinary rendition happened. Haters laughed like people laughing last. But the rest could be a Nebuchadnezzar story. Reign, wilderness, and return to absolute glory. Nigeria teems with impressionable minds.
In 2041, or earlier, Bishop Hush could come back from prison with a lavish American accent to tell Lagosians God used the FBI to save his soul. He might add Paul to his long list of names. And his wowed congregation would pray anew to God to punish his haters. Then, his electric Rolls Royce and private Jet, bought by the poor for God, would adorn social media pages again. Once in a while, he could brag that had he not left the world in 2020 and found Christ in America, he would have become richer than Dangote, and the congregation would applaud and marvel at the gift of a pastor with a mafia pedigree.
At some other time, he might blame his tragedy on Nigeria, who denied her “best brains” opportunities and forced them into cybercrime. And the members of the Youth Fellowship in his church will clap and hop, giddily.
In his bedroom 2041, Bishop Hushpuppi would tell his wife, an ex-beauty queen, that he was simply unlucky. And he won’t be lying. He would point at his former colleagues in the cybercrime world, occupying high public offices and shake his head. What even flippant pastors say in church is carefully arranged.
Pastor Huspuppi or PeeHushpee, as his congregation might prefer for fondness, would tell his wife, mummy Hushbee, dirty private stories of the mugus he skinned with some governors or ministers. Mummy Hushbee would respond, “Daddy, God let it happen for a reason. He chastises only those he loves. Look at you now.” Bishop Hushpuppi would tilt his head and say, “O yes. O yes. In everything, we must thank God. Am I not the one controlling the Lord’s flock now? Governors now call me daddy.”
Mummy Hushbee, in a bid to banish stubborn hints of her hubby’s criminal past from her mind, might once in a while whisper to her family and friends that had it not been for the involvement of the FBI, “daddy would never have been to prison.” And she wouldn’t be lying. After all, if Hush had been arrested by the EFCC in 2020, he would have hired a college of Senior Advocates.
He had 40 million godforsaken dollars in cash in his Dubai bedroom when the FBI came. Not many billionaires have ever seen 40 million dollars in living money. One or two of those SANS would have been a champion in the human rights community. So the team would have someone coming and going on television to throw around human rights jargon and insist on his client’s right to medical treatment abroad.
One of the other lawyers would be someone who knows his way around the courts and to the backyards of a few judges. Were Hushpuppi to be tried in Lagos or Abuja, some judges would have been excited. Please don’t ask me why. The warders in Kirikiri or Kuje would have celebrated too. Since Nwude and Fred Ajudua, no senior 419 lord has been convicted in Nigeria. And during Nwude’s time in Kirirkiri, bankers used to go on pilgrimage there to boost their balance sheets. The prisons in Nigeria allow 419 kingpins to practice their trade and other undertakings from government quarters. With his money and charm, Hush would have owned the prison.
When Bishop Hushpuppi returns to Lagos, He might carry the love of love on his head. The sort of church where music and fashion is priority and love is preached till its bastardized. That’s the competitive digital brand of pentecostalism. He would tell his congregation fables about American prisons. And they will collectively sneer at Nigeria and Kirikiri prisons and mourn other cyber-fraudsters whom the Lord forsook, let spend their own time in Nigerian prisons.
Hush might mention hypertension and say he would have died in a Nigerian jail where prison doctors come to work whenever they like. But he won’t know that inmates in Nigerian prisons with crates of cash could buy referrals and transfer themselves out of prison to cozy private rooms in nice hospitals, where they can spend the night with their girlfriends and visit home as often as possible they like.
Those referrals used to cost N250,000. That’s besides other incidentals for a comptroller somewhere. The two warders who would accompany the inmate on the transfer used to get 5,000 each per day. I guess since the dollar rate has gone up, that fee would have risen astronomically.
Once in a while, Bishop Hushpuppi would meet up with old friends. He could have an Instagram Live with Daddy Freeze. Daddy Freeze would tell doubters that he knew God had something in stock for Bishop Hush. He might then ask Hush all those leading questions he asked Mompha so that haters would know he only had dinner but never collected a dime from a fraudster based in Dubai.
Without any prompting, Bishop Hush might seek out Abba Kyari if the supercop who would likely spend a shorter time in a Nigerian prison hasn’t segued into politics. Because after Abba doctored his duwaduwa tales on Facebook, he left hints of a political dream with a Martin Luther King (Jnr) Video.
The trouble could be Bishop Hushpuppi’s memoirs. Such a Bishop located beyond the reach of ridicule and shame by a fashionable conversion to a tongue-speaking Christian could tell it all and name names. Time dulls everything. 15-20 years could make such a book of startling revelations boring. But with a large congregation and charm, any pamphlet Bishop Hush publishes would be a best seller.
A Nigerian cat could have ten lives.
*Written By Dr. Ugoji Egbujo
