Midway through reading this intriguing and well written novel, I came across descriptions of political minions/sycophants who, had it not been for the misconduct of U.S. maga-republican politicians, I would have thought far-fetched and improbable. But we learn how some seeking power have "forgotten their origins and shed their humanity."
"Power has corrupted them absolutely"
In the paragraphs below, the novel's protagonist, Desta Kidane Wold, has been arrested and delivered to the Emperor's office on charges of conspiracy in joining a revolutionary group. He holds an important position as confidant to the Prime Minister. As he awaits his fate, the observations he makes of the goings on in the Imperial Palace are revelatory. The Empire is teetering on the brink of collapse and minions and sycophants attached to power look every bit the corrupt, lying, cheating, reptilian types of homo sapiens.
The memory of December 28 in the Imperial Palace is so vivid that when I think of it, it is as if it is happening now. I am sitting on a couch in the ante-chamber, waiting alone, observing the ebb and flow of the movers and shakers of the empire, as if for the last time before the curtain of life descends on me . . .
To enter the domain of the Imperial Palace is to pass through the looking-glass into a wonderland where appearance and reality hopelessly mixed, where everything is topsy-turvy, and good and evil change places. In this imperial center, there are the few earthy types who do good within the limits of their power, whose heads have not been turned. And there are the many - far too many - who have forgotten their origins and shed their humanity, assuming the manner of petty gods . . .
Their behavior seems to me this morning particularly reptilian. Power has corrupted them absolutely. To curry imperial favor, they lie and cheat and sponge and spy and inform on people, including their friends and families . . .
I call them kerkedions, because in Ethiopian mythology the kerkedion is a mythical rhinoceros-shaped minion of Lucifer. Most of these kerkedions are shabbily dressed, and their level of social awareness does not go beyond the point at which homo sapiens emerged. They are erratic and arbitrary. One minute they are smiling (or grinning, to be exact); the next minute thy are heaping abuse or obscenities on some poor wretch who has strayed into their path . . .
No one speaks to me as I wait. I am not surprised. Last week I was somebody, a rising star in the empire. Today, I am a fallen star - ashes to be trodden under and spat upon. I am ignored or ridiculed in whispers. All this should amuse me, but I am also afraid . . .
It wasn't until much later in the day, when the traffic in the ante-chamber had thinned out, that I realized I had been waiting for eight hours. A stray minister who had just returned from a visit abroad saw me and rushed to greet me with open arms. Poor wretch, he was behind the news! The kerkedions looked at him with alarm, but he sat and kept me company, chatting about the latest fashions in shoes and ties! He laughed volubly, and created massive anxiety among the kerkedions. In doing that, he helped me more than he knew.
"Desta Kidane Wold!" cried the palace chamberlain. His voice echoed across the hallways, and my name was repeated by one of the kerkedions in the ante-chamber.
"Go on, don't just sit there! Move!" said the kerkedion. He came closer to push me (that is what they do to fallen stars) and I shoved him away, to the disbelief of those remaining in the ante-chamber. Before he had time to recover and strike me, I moved out of his jurisdiction and into the hallway leading to the Emperor's office.
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