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Letter From Yaounde To Buea 

Dear Mbella, I digested the contents of your letter with keen interest and concluded that you are still the diehard conservative that we know, despite the changing times. You tried, once more, to put fictional flesh to your strange political philosophy. Your arrogance rose to megalomaniac obsession. It is really sad when patriotic myopia becomes callous pride.

I know you jumped for joy when prelates hurled attacks at the establishment, virtually taking the place of the Almighty to judge and condemn actors of the epicurean drama and "awulf" eaters.

What aches me is that some of these fellows know not that they don’t have the moral authority to condemn sinning church goers. The Achilles heels of these sanctimonious hypocrites and naked Iyagos has always been the C fraternity. They cry out against embezzlement of public funds from tree tops, but just try to find out how alms are managed and see whether the Macinkus mafia will allow you alive to tell the ugly tale.

Mbella, we were again given forty days to prepare to receive the Divine Ntumfor.  We were supposed to fast and live a life of self abnegation and denial. We were expected to live in poverty and chastity and look away from earthly pleasures. But what we see Mola? Gluttony and noisy quaffing were amok, and choc-choc-choc to the dirty ears was elevated to an enviable pedestal. This explains why close disciples of the Divine Ntumfor who hailed him as He entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, denied and disowned him as he was being led to Calvary for crucifixion on Good Friday.

This scenario portrays a wasteland, wherein, spiritual emptiness triumphs. Here, success has more than a million mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, nephews and nieces while failure is not only an orphan but has no relative at all. That is why Ntumfor caught many people pants-down when he rose from the death on Easter Sunday.

He came at the time when the place reeked of adultery, incest, rape, thievery, murder, blackmail, gossip and other soul-killing prevailing vices. That is why our monarchs gathered in Ongola the other day to sing encomiums and do the macabre dance of hypocrisy for the magic box entertainment of Son Excellence. But the truth is that the avalanche of "les soutiens" makes it a real banality that bores Son Excellence stiff. Greet Enanga for me.

Sincerely, Ngwa

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