First Lady First Mistress

First Lady, First Mistress

7.48 a.m. Anne looked at the guest list for the umpteenth time. She wanted to make sure that all the members of The Club were going to be present for the workshop dubbed ‘Assertiveness is not Aggression’. She did not want any apologies; all had to attend.
Anne’s phone rang and she looked at the number on the screen. It was Judy, her legal advisor. “Are you coming for the ruling?” Judy asked casually, knowing that as The First Lady, Anne’s schedule was pretty tight and that she had neither the time nor energy to run around the congested and often confusing dark court corridors.
“No, Judy. I have to attend to this workshop. It might be the last one I am presiding over as a First Lady,” Anne replied dryly. Judy winced.
Anne’s husband, the president of the country, had filed for a divorce on grounds of nullity of the marriage resulting from childlessness. Surprisingly the case was treated as a low-key affair amongst the press, mainly out of respect for The First Lady’s effort in community service. But it was an open secret amongst the ruling elite that things were not that rosy at The Palace.
“Do what you can,” Anne finally told Judy, her former schoolmate and a personal friend of many years. Judy could not understand how a lady could give up so easily and yet conduct a workshop on assertiveness.
Some things just never made sense. Judy had tried telling Anne to settle for half the estate but Anne had been adamant; “If you can’t share the sky, why share the land?” had been her wise crack at Judy.
Anne had insisted that she wanted nothing from their 10-year-old marriage. She just wanted to be left alone to continue with her charity work. “Let him go his way, and I go mine,” had been Anne’s final words.
Anne looked at the list again. She was at the prestigious Sheraton Hotel, finalising all the details for the day. She glanced at her watch and knew that the elegant ladies were about to start trooping in.
‘The First Wives Club’ had been Anne’s brainchild. The group brought together all the top women in the country: wives of cabinet ministers and wives of the top military brass. No politicians were allowed. The group had become the conscience of the society, sometimes rubbing politicians the wrong way.
8.02 a.m. Anne looked out of the window of the V.I.P lounge, eager to see what poets and authors regaled about the world. There was no chirping of birds or crickets, no howling of the wind or the sun breaking from dark clouds. It was a dull day. Nothing to write home about. Just another day.
The phone rang again and this time the Chief of General Staff, Jairus Mango, broke the silence. “All security measures have been taken care of,” he formally informed the First Lady who did not want to gamble with the Club’s security.
“Thanks Jairo,” Anne replied, preferring to use the Chief’s pet name. She smiled and knew that Jairo meant every word of it when he said that all was well taken care of. That was all she needed to run her meeting safely.
By 9 o’clock, all the ladies had arrived in pomp and splendour, a parade of sets of new clothes, jewellery, shoes, handbags, perfume. Huge suitcases were towed into the hotel by the porters. There was excited chattering as the ladies hugged and held hands, as if they had not seen each others for ages.
The group moved to the venue of the workshop: the bunker, a place where one got lost and forgot about the outside world. The ladies were to be there for the better part of the day.
Half an hour later, Anne summoned all the women to the Temptation Hall. “You all have ten minutes to make a phone call, after which no calls will be allowed,” she announced to the attentive group. They knew the rules of the bunker; no calls could be made as a jamming device that made it impossible for mobile phones to be used had been installed.
The ladies made good use of the grace period, knowing that the next break would be well after 5pm. They all knew and accepted that as the coordinator and convenor of the workshop, Anne was the only one allowed to visit the reception area and retrieve or take calls.
Anne called Judy. “Am about to enter the court room. I will let you know what transpires,” Judy told her friend.
“Thanks, Judy.” Anne sighed and then switched off her phone. She wanted to concentrate on her workshop.
11:00 am. Anne took a stroll to the reception area. As she was about to talk to the lady receptionist, the Hotel phone rang and the lady answered in the monotone characterised by many telephone operators. Anne watched as the lady’s face darkened, prompting her to press the Fire Drill bell.
“Bomb alert in the hotel!” the lady shrieked at the First lady as she scrambled to get out of her seat. From there the hotel security team took over, shouting orders and ushering guests out of the internationally renowned hotel. It took close to twenty minutes to empty all the rooms and get the guest out of the looming danger. For some strange reasons, the alarm at the bunker did not sound, hence enabling The Club to continue with its workshop, completely unaware of the unravelling drama outside.
Anne taking advantage of the confusion moved to the V.I.P lounge, from where she watched the mayhem downstairs. People were running up and down, screaming at the top of their voices. Somehow, after the Twin Tower’s bombing, the world had become paranoid to bomb alerts. Anne picked the phone and called The Gossip, giving the breaking news.
In less than ten minutes, the hotel had been completely surrounded by the dreaded crack unit code named Fiatua. It’s amazing how they had responded so fast.
Anne’s attention was suddenly drawn to the local TV station that had ‘Breaking News’. Anne turned, alarmed at how the newsmen had reacted to the news so fast. The face of the Government spokesperson appeared on the screen and Anne sneered. Her apathy towards some of the people who flocked around her husband was well known. She was a great admirer of people who lived by their own sweat, not off others’ sweat.
The footnote on the TV caught Anne’s attention and she knew that the news had nothing to do with the hotel. “The First Couple officially divorce,” said the spokesperson, as he went on to explain about the morning landmark court ruling. The clips showed Judy walking out of the court buildings and answering all questions with her trademark, “No comment.”
11:23 a.m. Anne made her way to the bunker to join her female friends. They were having group discussions on how to handle rudeness. Anne joined one of the groups and made her contribution on the heated debate on whether or not rudeness called for rudeness in reciprocation.
“You must fight fire with fire,” an angry woman whose face was full of scars was trying to convince her group members that the only way of being assertive was by fighting back. The debate swayed to and from, the facilitator making sure that the ladies remained on task.
It was close to lunchtime when the group had their first major break, allowing the ladies to start their first informal interaction since morning. Most of the ladies were itching to make phone calls, but somehow they knew the rules and chose to abide by them.
Lunch was served in the adjacent room and the ladies had their hearty meal, punctuated by wisecracks from one of the facilitators. Time flew and before they knew it, the half hour lunch break was over and the ladies had to go back for their afternoon session.
2pm. Anne made her way back to the VIP lounge. She had left the TV on and she got headline news flashing on the screen.
“Bomb Scare at Hotel,” announced the anchorwoman, detailing how the guests at the hotel had been evacuated and taken to other destinations. The picture, clearly taken from a distance, showed the Fiatua squad looking mean and ready to do battle. The bomb-squad team was also shown going into the hotel to do their business, as they knew best. No mention was made of the women in the hotel. Either no one remembered The Club or they chose to downplay the whole incidence.
Anne made it back to the bunker, and this time the ladies had been separated into two major groups: wives of cabinets were sent to one room while the wives of the military were sent to and adjacent room. This was going to be the final session of the afternoon: how to be assertive with your spouse.
2:45 pm. Anne strolled out of the ‘Military Wing’ and went to the VIP lounge again. She flipped channels and opted for Channel 007.
“The wives of cabinet ministers and top military brass are feared holed up at the Sheraton Hotel,” the young lady intoned in an annoying fake foreign accent. The lady elaborated on how there was no news of the ladies.
Anne was about to leave the room when the announcer screeched, “Bomb blast in down town!” She turned and paid attention to all the details on how an abandoned building on Hawkers Street had been blasted, leaving five people injured. The announcer rambled on, clearly waiting for more details on the story. None came and Anne, looking tired, made way to the bunker. She did not want to alarm The Club.
The excitement and animated session that the ladies were having convinced Anne that the session was going on well. One of the ladies was talking about the meekness of her husband in the house, despite being one of the most arrogant rulers of the country. Anne smiled, it was evident that some of the ladies needed another session on humility against submission. Later.
3.25 pm. Anne moved to the next room, whispered something to the facilitator and then walked out to the VIP lounge. The same lady, the same fake accent, greeted Anne as she sat on the couch. She strained to read the footnote: “A group calling itself Okoa Nchi Yetu has kidnapped the wives of top Cabinet ministers and top military chiefs. The 40 women were last seen at Sheraton Hotel attending a workshop. No one knows their whereabouts….”
The droning went on, the lady trying to explain some background information. Anne did not listen. Her mind was blank. She stayed a little bit longer and heard that the president had convened a full cabinet and military meeting to deliberate on the matter.
Anne wondered whether or not the president considered himself married to her, especially less than 4 hours after the divorce had been publicly declared. It would be interesting to talk to her former husband and pick his brains. The problem with politicians is that there was little to pick from. Ego, yes.
Anne had seen them all: bunch of thin greedy men and a few women scrambling for the country. She knew all of them, had been to school with some, and had worked with most. Brilliant at their jobs, until joining politics where their greed and ego often overtook their commitment to most of the causes they preached. She marvelled at how some had doubled their body weight in less than a year, a clear indication of poor eating habit. Problem is that they ate everything in sight. Swines!
4:06 pm. Two hours to the end of the workshop give or take thirty minutes. Anne moved from one room to the other making sure that the ladies in The Club were having an assertive time. The groups were in the process of winding up their discussion session, after which they would meet and present their proposals and findings to the bigger group. This would take another hour, punctuated with interruptions ranging from quality questioning to people who were more in love with their voices.
Anne moved to the VIP lounge. The latest news was that the president and the cabinet were holed up in a meeting with the military chiefs for more than two hours. The TV stations had nothing new; The First Club could still not be traced. The Sheraton Hotel was still out of bounds, the security personnel staying guard.
4:40 p.m. Speeches and appreciation time often made Anne sick. It was here that people lied through their noses, while others applauded. There were three speakers lined up to deliver speeches. Anne was to pass the vote of thanks, the final moment of the day. The first speaker was the wife of the Internal Security minister, a lady who could talk for hours if not checked. Anne moved out.
“The president will deliver a statement in the next twenty minutes,” was the announcement made by the chief Government spokesperson. Anne wondered how much of it was true. She couldn’t wait for the twenty minutes, so she walked back to the bunker. The first speaker was still waffling and spewing forth emptiness. Anne shut her mind.
5.30 p.m. “The First Club has the pleasure of sponsoring its members for a week long holiday in Seychelles,” was the announcement being made by the last speaker. The ladies had earlier been told to pack their belongings since they would all be going straight to the airport after the workshop. They were thanked for being such a good audience.
6.00 p.m. Anne rose to give her final speech, the last time she would be doing so as a First Lady. No one in The Club was aware of the transition.
Anne inhaled deeply, and removed a stack of papers: her speech. The ladies looked impatient but out of courtesy to Anne, they sat up to listen.
“We have come to the end of our workshop and as you go home I would like you to ponder on the following.
“How many of you here would survive without your spouse’s cabinet minister’s jobs or military salaries and perks?” Anne posed. The question stunned all, and they sat up ready to listen.
“Imagine a scenario whereby a coup takes place and all our spouses are replaced or displaced from their current positions,” Anne continued. “Put up your hand if you will be able to bring up the family on your own and service all the loans you have taken.” No hands went up.
Anger took over and one of the ladies could not take this kind of talk. She put her hand up, ready to interrupt. Anne waved her down. It was time for a reality check.
“Part of assertion demands that we are in total control of our financial situation as we all know that there is nothing as humiliating as financial blackmail. As we go on your trip to relax, let us all keep this in mind.”
With those words, Anne declared the workshop closed. There were murmurings as the women stood up to troop back to their lockers. Anne went back to the V.I.P lounge. “The president will address the nation at 7.00 p.m.”
6.45 p.m. The excited ladies trooped outside and they were shocked to find two huge ‘Cobra’ helicopters waiting for them outside the hotel. Some noticed the increased presence of security personnel but took it more as a case of importance rather than a crisis. After all, The Club were the dream of most women in the country. None of them even noticed that the all the three mobile phone companies had no signal. “Third World,” someone said. None of them noticed the absence of Anne.
The cabinet minister’s wives were separated from the military ladies and within minutes the two Cobras were airborne carrying a group of excited women.
7:00 p.m. Anne sat at the V.I.P lounge alone, opened her handbag and removed wad of papers. It was a speech. She looked at the T.V and within minutes the man she had called her husband for ten years appeared on T.V. He looked tired and haggard, but which politician ever looked fresh?
Anne looked at the speech in front of her and waited. The president read, “My countrymen and women, I hereby resign as the president of the country with immediate effect. The cabinet, parliament and all civic bodies are hereby dissolved, effectively today.”
Anne smiled. So far, the two speeches were identical to the letter.
“I will hand over the reigns of the country to the Attorney General who will be the legal advisor to the incoming Council of Elders to be chaired by The Chief of General Staff, Jairus Mango. General Elections will be held 6 months from today. However, anyone who has ever vied for a seat in the last two General Elections will not be eligible.”
The rambling went on, detailing the road map to recovery for the battered country. Anne waited for the final nail. “You asked for your country back, and today I am glad to give you back your country. Vote wisely.”
Anne stood up and looked outside the hotel. It was close to 9 p.m. No people were on the streets as a dawn to dusk curfew had been imposed to make the transition smoother. The night was quiet and she mused at what the poets would write about such a cool and calm night. Were it a movie she was directing, she would have added some special effects: prolonged thunderstorms and scary lightning across the dark skies; eerie music and crashing drums. But this was real life, consumed in the silence of a defining moment in the history of her country.
Whoever had said that a week is a long time in politics was definitely poor at arithmetic. In less than six hours, the destiny of a country had moved from known to unknown. There were many questions that Anne wanted to ask, many people that she wanted to talk to, but for now it sufficed that she was in the middle of a great transition that would either make or break the country.
The papers would have a field day for days on end. Anne thought of one half of The Club, the cabinet minister’s wives and the shock they had received at boarding the plane only to find their spouses seated on the same plane. And what about the military women who were taken back to the barracks to be told the news. She would miss them, honestly.
Anne thought of the crazy headlines the journalists would go for to outdo each other. “The First Revolution,” or “Divorcing the Country,” or “Give Us Back our Country!” But her favourite would be “From First Lady to First Mistress…….”