Post by Adamu Aminu

Gatekeepers Decide Everything. By Pencil Hammer. Senator Seriake Dickson’s house grew a new gate overnight. Not iron. Not wood. Just pride, welded from old elections and polished by press releases. Nasiru Gawuna arrived with white-beard wisdom and promises heavier than his beard. Comrade Abdussalam came with a red cap full of Kano’s hopes. Both knocked. The gate smiled back. Dickson stood behind it, bowler hat tilted like a referee’s whistle. He didn’t shout. He pointed. One finger said what constitutions take paragraphs to explain: “Not today. Not through me.” The two men turned. Shame walked beside them, quiet as a losing campaign song. The house remained closed. Allegiance, it seemed, needed an appointment.