In what can only be described as the political equivalent of a sibling rivalry turned national circus, Asomdwekrom’s House of Honourables is currently embroiled in a chaos of epic proportions.
The two major political parties, Osono and Zu-za, have been battling for control like two children fighting over the last piece of jollof rice. But this time, it is not just about the rice; it is about who gets to sit at the head of the table in the House of Honourables.
The Umbrella, feeling slightly cheated out of their rightful place at the “majority” table, has decided to launch a sly and rather bold backdoor operation. Their mission is to claim the majority status, by hook, by crook, or through what many are calling the “Alban Bagbin Method” a.k.a. declaring seats vacant when the entire nation knows it is just a political show of power.
Before you get confused, Abusuapanin, let’s rewind and get to the juicy bits that have made this situation feel like an episode of an Asomdwekromanian soap opera.
After the 2020 elections, Asomdwekrom was blessed with the rarest of political outcomes: a hung parliament of 137 Osono members, 137 Zu-za members, and one independent MP; the perfect recipe for a gridlock, or as Asomdwekromanians like to say, “A deadlock between a tortoise and a snail.”
In this delicate balance, Alban Bagbin was elected Speaker of Parliament. Bagbin, a man many in the Umbrella family regard as “ordained by the gods,” now held the power to tip the scales in their favour. Meanwhile, those in the Elephant family were left feeling the political equivalent of “let’s not even bother discussing it.”
In a classic “show me what you can do” move, Bagbin boldly declared four parliamentary seats vacant without a moment’s hesitation. Just like that, those riding the Elephant found themselves cornered, and the Umbrella leapt from a 137-137 deadlock to a 136-135 majority.
For those riding the Elephant, this move was cheeky, almost like a political magic trick. They saw it as an outright power grab – like borrowing someone’s car and saying, “I wasn’t driving it, so I thought it is mine for the taking now.” So, what did they do? They dashed straight to the Supreme Court quicker than you can ask, “Where is my jollof?”
In came the legal eagles of the Elephant, launching an ex-parte motion at the Supreme Court. They argued that Speaker Bagbin’s declaration was nothing short of a “manipulation of power.” The Supreme Court, in all its wisdom, swiftly issued a stay on the Speaker’s ruling.
Now, the Umbrella’s response to this was nothing short of a dramatic tantrum. Like a child whose toy has been snatched away by an older sibling, Zu-za suddenly started sulking, accusing the Supreme Court of bias, and arguing that the Speaker was just doing what “he thought was best for the people.” If you’ve ever seen a child try to argue their way out of being sent to bed without dessert, then you’ve seen the Zu-za’s behaviour post-Supreme Court ruling.
Now, here’s where the Umbrella is missing the memo: when the court says “no,” it means “no”. Acting like a stubborn child in this situation only makes you look like you missed the part where we agreed we all need to play by the same rules. You are not winning votes with this strategy, my dear Zu-za. In fact, if you keep at it, you might end up with even less power than before. Remember, there is no Asomdwekromanian proverb that says, “Tantrums equal majorities!”
For Zu-za’s leadership, continuing this fight is like trying to get a crab to sing. It is simply not going to happen. Asomdwekromanian wisdom doesn’t lie when it says, “It’s difficult to sing a song in the belly of a crab.”
No matter how many political tactics Zu-za tries to pull off, this battle for majority status through backdoor deals is destined to fail. In fact, the longer they drag this out, the more they risk becoming the child who insists on walking through a closed door and always finds their way blocked.
At the end of the day, this is not about who is more clever in the political game of chess. It is about accepting the verdict of the Supreme Court and respecting Asomdwekrom’s democratic processes. After all, as much as we love our politics, “A good leader doesn’t whine for a toy after losing it, they build a new one.”
So, while Zu-za may be holding their breath and crossing their fingers, hoping for a miracle, the truth is that true power isn’t something you can sneakily steal through clever tricks. It is not about backdoor maneuvers; it is about the people and the law.
Until Zu-za comes to terms with the fact that Parliament isn’t a playground and they can’t always win by throwing tantrums, they might find themselves stuck in the “closed door” section of Asomdwekromanian politics, where no amount of whining or “political voodoo” can get them out.
So, while we all wait for the final verdict from the Supreme Court, one thing is certain: politics in Asomdwekrom has never been more entertaining. And Zu-za might want to remember: when you get caught trying to sneak in through the back door, there’s always a very loud, very obnoxious bang of a lock shutting behind you.
See you next week for another interesting konkonsa, Deo volente!