The dog was sweet but not an asset when it came to persuading the people of Mulhuddart to vote for Chidimma Agu (FF). So the family kept the dog and gave him a name, Biffo, but he stayed in the back garden, barking at the grass, when Chidimma went out canvassing. Her strategist, Eric Dove, was not happy.
–Mistake, he said.
–Eric, said Chidimma. –I am not Michelle Obama.
–Connectivity, said Eric.
–Someone – actually, his mother – had once told Eric that he could, and should, say more with one word than most people could say with a hundred. She’d said this to shut him up, so she could hear what Deirdre was saying to Ken in Coronation Street. But Eric had believed her.
–Connectivity, said Eric.
Chidimma was a polite woman. But –
–What in the name of God do you mean? she asked.
–You, Michelle, black, women, connected. A vote for you is a vote for Obama.
–Enough, said Chidimma. –Please. Enough of this racism.
–Racism? said Eric. –But you are black.
–And so is Biffo!
–No, he isn’t. He’s from Offaly.
–Eric, said Chidimma. –I wish you well. Goodbye.
–I need the dog, said Eric. –It’s my brother’s.
–He lent it to you?
–Not really, said Eric.
–Your problem, Eric. Goodbye.
The evenings were bright and, occasionally, dry. The plod from door to door was not as dreadful as it had been. The girls, Kelechi and Anuli, no longer went with their mother.
–Politics is not very entertaining, said Kelechi (8).
Chidimma marvelled at her younger daughter’s mind, and nodded her agreement before kissing Kelechi’s nose. But – secretly – she had begun to disagree. Like Sinn Fèin, Chidimma analysed everything carefully and she was able to point at four reasons for her growing enthusiasm.
1) Her new shoes were less new now and less uncomfortable;
2) She no longer had to pretend that she was married to the President of the United States;
3) She took great pleasure in seeing her posters on the poles and railings. She smiled warmly on the people of Mulhuddart. Her husband Ike had put the posters up and by God they stayed up. Not one of Chidimma’s posters slid down a pole or blew across the N3. The Fianna Fáil harp was clear and easily read. Chidimma was hiding nothing;
4) The fourth reason was the last only because it was the most recent.
She had turned a corner, onto a cul-de-sac that had eight houses and seventeen votes, when she saw a man standing on a ladder. He was holding a poster and it was clear that the man holding the poster and the man on the poster were one and the same man.
It was Chidi Adebisi, of the Igbo nation and Fine Gael. He was smiling, both in reality and in print, and he was being photographed by another man. A small crowd – two adults, a child, and a sleeping baby – had stopped to witness the photo opportunity.
–Ah, said Chidi Adebisi. –My worthy opponent, I think.
–Good evening, Mr Adebisi, said Chidimma.
–It is a good evening, said Chidi Adebisi, –as I now have the opportunity to point out to the world at large the lunacy of voting for Fianna Fáil.
The world at large suddenly got larger. Sniffing a scrap, most of the cul-de-sac’s residents came out for some fresh air.
–Fianna Fáil, said Chidi Adebisi, –has led us, yes. To the very edge of the abyss.
He climbed further up the ladder.
–I mean no personal disrespect to my opponent. A wonderful mother, I am certain. But her party! They are criminals and fools.
–They’re a disgrace, said someone.
–Disgrace? said Chidimma. –Look at this man here on his podium.
–It’s only a ladder.
–He represents a party which proposes to return immigrants to their country of origin.
–That is not true, said Chidi Adebisi.
–You should listen to your party colleague, Leo Varadkar, said Chidimma. –That is exactly what he proposes. At a time when we should unite, to prepare for the strong winds of this global recession, Mr Adebisi’s party would tear us apart.
–That’s right. love. Give him the slaps.
–The Government, said Chidimma, –I can assure you, is in control.
–Nonsense, said Chidi Adebisi.
–Nonsense? said Chidimma. –What nonsense? Look at the Government’s handling of the swine flu crisis. A spectacular success, I am proud to say. You have all received your leaflets, yes?
People nodded.
–Believe me, said Chidimma. –Whether a pandemic or a pothole, Fianna Fáil is the party that can best look after the people of Mulhuddart. Let this man have his ladder. But vote for me.
She handed her card to hands that accepted them. She patted the baby’s head. She waved and walked away. So the fourth reason was this: Chidimma had become a politician, in a desperate fight for votes – and she loved it.
© Roddy Doyle 2009
The story continues next week
