Help Me Find The Man Who Invented The Truth

Girma Tiruneh

Find me the man who invented the truth — the self-proclaimed oracle of reality, who measures economic growth by the smell of it, as if charts, numbers, or facts were mere trifles beneath his exalted nose.

He was last seen under Mohamed Benziad’s jellabiya in Abu-Dhabi. You may be able to identify him as he towers over history and common sense alike, crowning himself both prophet and arbiter, speaking with the confidence of a man who has never met a contradiction he couldn’t rewrite. Yesterday’s promises become today’s achievements; yesterday’s disasters are tomorrow’s triumphs — all neatly repackaged as proof of his genius, elect of the almighty, a saint sent down to earth to save the mortals.

Look for someone deceptive and an outright liar whose every denial becomes a new decree, every exaggeration a pillar in the empire of his lies. He doesn’t merely distort the truth — he manufactures it, brands it, and demands loyalty for it, while insisting the rest of the world simply keep up. And the crowd, especially his lambs in the Ethiopian house of miserables, having nothing to show for themselves, and eager for easy stories, applauds, nods, and smiles, mistaking fear and spectacle for admiration.

Yes, find me the man who invented the truth. I promise you will not miss him; you will find him when his  followers clap, nod, and “smell” the economic growth too. 

Remember፡  your man is somebody who you cannot fault for his lack of critical thinking, which is hard for him  and, theatrics are far easier and manageable.

You get closer to finding him when you see someone who  is the hero of his own story, the prophet of his own legend, the messiah of his own hype. Be sure the right person is  someone  who can simultaneously know everything and understand nothing. On the other hand, he commands a sprawling criminal empire with ruthless precision. When you see people getting robbed in broad daylight, you know you’re closing in on the syndicate leader. He has layers of criminal thugs under him who maim and kill on a whim.  You cannot miss him because he is not trying to hide his crimes.

If you see someone meddling in religious affairs you can be sure that it is him.

If you see a man whispering venom in an otherwise peaceful environment, it is him.

If you come across a man who  is poisonous in human form—quietly breeding division with every calculated word, turning allies into adversaries, certainly you have found your man.

Remember: you cannot question this man because it would be heresy; but  admiring  him is compulsory. If you want to be certain that you have the right person, look  where lies are thickest and applause is loudest. He’ll be there, smiling, smelling the economy and somebody’s neck and armpit, and rewriting history.

You will find him fostering division, breeding conflict in all corners. Yes, find the man who invented the truth; a man whose every utterance is a masterclass in creative fiction.

Find me that man whose betrayal is a legend, who takes pride in deceit. You have plenty of clues to locate his whereabouts, he is everywhere with blood in his hands, he is  in every corner, every breath—blood pours in heavy streams from his soaked hands, shiny and bright red like a never-ending nightmare; you will find him surrounded by his zombies admiring himself for his handiwork.

He is close by if you spot certain ደብተራ and ጠንቋይ whose sole purpose is to serve the upcoming ‘king’; whose whole being is to affirm his truth. If you see his sycophants chuckling at every inane utterance, just to stroke his ego, you are close to finding him. These dwarfs outshout others to satisfy his craving with excessive praise;  የጎባጣ አሽከር አጎንብሶ ይሄዳል: his attack dogs are not far from him making it easier for you to find my man.

He is close by if you can locate  betrayed friends, all mere stepping-stones in the grand parade of self-interest; believe me he is around. His soul was pawned long ago to the devil for a lifetime supply of evil.  Yes, that is your man, with no soul.

He will be there, swimming in a pool of blood, the metallic stench suffocating the air around him.

You cannot miss  ነውጤ  who is allergic to silence and repulsed by repose; for him, peace is not a destination but a profound absence, and the deafening vacuum of quiet is simply a space he must fill with the storm of his own creation. For him, silence is a suffocation he cannot endure, a void that must be shattered, while violence is the only atmosphere where he can truly breathe and find release.

You can be sure you found your right sub-person If you see a man who cannot handle the peace. Like a cow who disturbs the herd, he is essential chaos, the necessary irritant whose purpose is to scatter and redefine the boundary of peace, that is your ነውጤ the man you cannot mistake for anyone else, defined entirely by contradiction.

You have your clue if you happen to see a man mesmerized by his grandeur while everybody around him crumbles unnoticed;  where his friends, colleagues vanish into obscurity.

He is identifiable when the recognition sought by others for their accomplishments is overshadowed by the prominence of his monologues.  He doesn’t like competition, who you find around him are subservient who breathe with his lungs( they inhale and exhale on command).

 Look for one who doesn’t recognize others much less share a spotlight with them.

If you remain in doubt about finding the right sub-human, look for the man whose identity is a contradiction and whose intent is utter destruction.  Seek out the one with lying eyes, whose whole being is filled with malice; watch for the crown resting halfway to his head, his lifetime ambition instilled by his mother in Beshasha( more clue). It symbolizes his  power grasping attempt but not yet fully attained.  Most telling of all, listen to the one speaking on both sides of his mouth, the pretender whose words serve his selected audience and therefore serve no truth.

I can add another clue to help you find him:  he is an avid admirer and student of Machiavelli who said; “ A wise ruler ought never to keep faith when by doing so it would be against his interests, and when the reasons that caused him to pledge his faith exist no longer.”

His core political tool is polarization, which he fans through a relentless stream of dishonest rhetoric and propaganda, he thrives on convincing part of the population that their primary identity is under existential threat from an internal enemy, you know who. He and his blind follower’s narration is that there are pre-existing cultural, ethnic, or economic grievances which can be cleansed only with blood.

If all the clues failed you, go back to the inauguration of the GERD where he alone commanded the spotlights, totally denying the contribution of millions. His speech was a masterclass in ego-driven drivel, a bloated parade of self-congratulation. Narcissus ሁለተኛ የሞተው አሁን ነው: he can’t RIP, Narcissus will not be able to defend his historic title in this competition for self-love, he is dead.

When you find him, I know you will find him, thank him for showing me the difference between man and evil.

Editor’s Note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com  

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