Then one day, the appointment ends. The election is lost. The minister is not reappointed.
The Governor and legislator have served their terms..
The Godfather chooses someone else, and suddenly
the world becomes very quiet.

The Withdrawal
First comes the begging.
Sir, anything will do.
Make me your Personal assistant..A board appointment.
Put me somewhere. It is tempting to see this simply as a desperate search for employment, but it’s more than just begging for a job.
They are begging not to disappear. They have been visible for four years. Obscurity is not a tempting alternative.

Then comes the horse trading.
Who do I need to see?
What can I offer?
Do I need to apologise?
Do I need to go to the village?
Who can speak to him for me?
Old enemies become friends.

Then comes the cross-carpeting:
I have been deceived.
I have been maligned.
I have finally seen the light.
And when all else fails, the press conference. The tears and accusations. Exposés.
Old secrets suddenly become public knowledge.
Some of those allegations may even be true.
But the timing tells its own story.
Because the addiction was never simply the money.
It was about the access.
And that is where the story becomes more human.
The reality when the people who surrounded you disappear? The godfather who had you on speed dial no longer picks your calls..
The people who filled your house every evening suddenly have somewhere else to be.

Your name, once first on the list for Ileya rams and Christmas turkeys distributed to members , disappears.
The invitations become fewer.
The phone quieter.
The entourage dissolves and the that once reserved the front row has no special seat anymore.
This is the reality check.
The constituency that once prostrated now bargains hard with you at the market. The queues you never joined, you now join.
The electricity bill you never felt, now you have the app.
And perhaps the most cruel part is discovering that some of the people around you were not really your friends. They were your access.
Worse, some people sacrificed old friendships, family relationships and ordinary lives to get to the office.
They assumed the political road would always remain open. That appointment and patronage would never end.
It does.

The family has learned to live without you.. Old friends have moved on.
And there is absolutely nobody to call.
That is the real withdrawal.
Not simply the money, but
losing the world that money and power built around you.
The cars. the drivers. The security detail.
The invitations.
The people waiting and standing when you enter a room.
The constant reminder that you matter.

But there is the uncomfortable contradiction.
Political office is supposed to be a contract with the public.
To serve, represent and be accountable for public resources.
Yet the longer someone lives inside an ecosystem of privilege and patronage, the easier it becomes to mistake the privileges of office for the purpose of office.
Until the sirens stop.
The convoy disappears.
The ‘Your Excellency’ disappears.
The phone stops ringing.
And ordinary life returns.

For some, it is simply life. Another season.
For others, it feels like suffocation, because they have forgotten how to breathe ordinary air.
Perhaps that is the real danger of political office.
Not simply that power corrupts.
But that power can become so comfortable that a person forgets it was ever supposed to end.

And when it does, they discover the question they never had to ask while they were in power:
Who are you when nobody has to call you Honourable anymore?