PROLOGUE My Agony, NAY MINE

What you are about to read is My Agony, a lie almost, because not all you ‘ll find on this page every Monday, shall be  my personal agony.
It could be yours, his, hers and even theirs, I, merely the vessel. If it sounds confusing to you, then take it  as a part of what to expect because much of the message here, shall be laced in satire, to ensure that the reader is intellectually challenged.
Don’t get it wrong. The purpose of this column is not to confuse, neither is it to convince any one but strictly to voice an anger which I, sorry others also find discomforting, even painful. But we must all be agreed that agonies are not chocolates, that picnicking toddlers like to bite. And so, they shall live–up to their definition in every respect, punchy, a little direct, never verbous, nay appeal to long-winding diatribe but ambitiously omnibus in presentation, yet never to gratify fools.
Even so, My Agony will not be annoying in presentation, but annoying to the guilty reader, afterall that’s how reconciliation is easily enhanced.
 Above all else, My Agony, will seek, at all times, to help the reader forget, if need be, through rigourous advocacy and literary campaign, the allusion that might is always right; that majority is always wise or accept, hook, line and sinker each time exigency is used as a reason for inequities in commonwealth allocation.
Most importantly, the truth must never be buried for the fear  of annoying a special citizen. ‘ Yet it must be accepted that the majority should have its way and the minority, at all times, its say.
Our main focus therefore, shall be the Niger Delta; her hopes and fears, her needs and denials, her people, their due and crucially their survival not merely as a part of the 1914 forced amalgamation but a distinct people with a distinct culture, future and nature. And then, as the largest contributor to the common cake.
However, natural and international issues that have direct and even indirect bearing on the Niger Delta people could incur this column’s ire, but sorry, never vain praise.
Dark, as I have made it appear My Agony shall seek, at all times to create a window to enable men and even women consider other alternatives to making me brood. In this regard, My Agony will be objective in criticism and humane in difference. This is in agreement with the position of Benjamin Disraeli, (First Earl of Beaconsfield who in Vivian Grey once mused’, Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief, the blunder of a life.”
This shall be the direction of My Agony, yours also. Welcome to our world.