And would die of fear if they ever caught sight of an enemy draw a dagger. He removed his cap and showed them his white hair, laughed loudly and told them that they(the journalist) had no respect. They should have not come to ask an old man such a foolish question and that they came with nothing, forgetting that the young pay homage and courtesy to the old.
He knew the country too well, very large with many tribes who had nothing in common apart from their blackness which they inherited for being Africans. He could raise any issue to foment trouble and sat watching. He could use zoning policy, land tenure system, taxation and pension policy of the old order. He told his old friend that the best way of managing the country was to play on the intertribal jealousies and foment trouble between the senates and traditional rulers for he knew that the constitution had not boldly spelt out roles to the traditional rulers. 
          Besides, Mr. President’s reputation as a master of political intrigues, his position as the party’s king was seen as a boost to the plot of mass assassination of aspiring young politicians within the narrow confines of political life. He could plan it that no trace of his involvement could be made. Fear gripped many after the last meeting, the urge to continue living in the crime and killers infested country was declining and the possibility unknown. They listened to these words and non-who did not hear them can guess the fearful bitterness with which they were spoken.  Few reasonable ones had found politics an uncharted territory and therefore decided to bid farewell to the strange profession. Like many growing politicians in Africa, Mr. President had no conscience. That was the truth.
Many zealous ones counted them as frustrated class, while others thought that they were too much a bed lain and uncertainty that normally engulfed the country’s electoral process. For sure , they knew that such bitter words could result to something so bad and few times something good. From the beginning they saw Zack’s talk to be biting.  They had never heard such a speech from Zack, so rational, so educative and carefully organized. It held them all with emotion and appeal. At least for that moment, the speech made a powerful impression in the gathering. At least, he deserved to be publicly rewarded by a good government for compiling his speech so well. All in their numbers sat silent, though some without sound mental calculation, acknowledged the heavy truth of what Mr. Zack had spoken. He spoke with such eminent good sense that even those who had hated his presumptuousness and who held grudges against him were marveled and talked with their eyes.
He could be wasted. After all Mr. President had been a military head of state who knew how many souls of good citizens were wasted. The likes of Rukat, Benqa and Tharimo who were all wasted with letter bomb and nothing came out of it till this day. The first had a very cruel some death. He got a letter placing it on his lap because he was reading a newspaper documentary. Soon it was over and his mind went back to the just delivered parcel. He knew the sender at least from his writing. He had hardly opened the parcel when a loud explosion occurred, scattering his stomach and thigh into pieces. He could not be saved. He died. His offence? He had sent a letter to the judiciary asking for the probe of Mr. Presidents in-law who took the cocoa fund and built himself a mansion in Egypt. Mr. President knew it all because the accused was his personal assistance in money matters. That alone could have earned the poor journalist a lifetime glory for exposing the robbery, but he did not live to see his dreams come true. That was the end of the matter thought the law was still counted on. Such a poor fellow. He started as a cub reporter in his career and within a couple of years, he crawled to the level of personal assistant to the Minister for Information after winning a journalist prize for covering genocide war in Rwanda.
He had been followed closely. This same young man had before now and in secret launched a bitter diatribe against his government and was also part of the meeting that the President held to inflate the prize of diamond. He had been in the list of elimination before now.
His death was a press-gag. None one dare say it openly. It was the order of the president and no one flaunt it. Report or die. This had nothing to do with freedom of information. It ends there and here.