The epidemic breakout-episode2

The cultural minister, who was absent from the morning proceedings, was however present for lunch. He was, with considerable difficulty, persuaded to stay for the afternoon discussion. The brothels, he finally conceded, could wait. As soon as he was informed of the problem on the campus, his agile mind came up with the only problem on the campus, his agile mind came up with the only solution possible.

"Rebellion!" he exclaimed. "send the army."

There was burst of applause.

"Good suggestion" replied the prime minister, "but I have already sent the army."

"Then what is-" began the cultural minister.

"They have refused to enter the campus," answered the prime minister, gravely.

The cabinet stirred. The army refuses! impossible!"

"They say they will intervene if there is a riot or demonstration. That falls within the duty as defenders of Nation. But an epidemic, they claim, is not a national affair. It's an internal problem of campus, and they will not interfere with the student' freedom to express themselves."

The Ekiti minister was angry again. "Expel the aaarrmy from . . frommm. . .the country!"

"Not necessary," said the prime minister. "They are still useful."

"How? How?"

" They have agreed to surround the place. Until further notice no one may come in or go out of the campus."

"Even professors?" asked the Transport minister, walking up from what he usually called his "after-lunch digestive sleep."

"Professors my yansh!-er excuse the familiarity..."

The prime minister was beginning to lose his temper under the barrage of questions. He took a breath and then continued: "I hope ministers will realise that this is an emergency. Personally, I believe that the epidemic is a God-sent. The college have been unruly these past months. They refuse our fatherly guidance..."

It was the turn of Education minister to talk. He brought out a white handkerchief and wiped his face. Then he repeated the action across his looking-glass head. when he spoke, his voice had insidious menace of one uttering his marital vows.

He said: "I have thought deeply about this cholera.The only solution as I see, is Latin. Put Latin declensions back on the curricula!"

A collective gasp of horror answered his speech.
All the minsters who had been to school during the late colonial era had never forgotten their Latin class: they kept a memory of it as keen and as frightful as the reminiscences of a terrible nightmare.

And even those who had never been to school fell solemnly silent at that moment, convinced that an awful malediction had just been pronounced.

However the horror soon dissolved into signs of relief. The ministers declared one after the other that once again, a Daniel had come to judgment.

"Latin for discipline!" cheered the Transport minister.

He stood up and went round the table to congratulate his Educational colleagues, "Brilliant!".
Soon the other members of the cabinet were laughing and shaking hands with the
inspired man.

"To keep the campus calm," asserted the Educational minister, "Latin is the balm!" For a second he stopped short, surprised at his own ingenuity. Then he looked round haughtily and repeated: "To keep the campus calm-"

"Latin is the balm!" chorused the ministers.
But the prime minister was not impressed. Latin he declared with a hurt look, was not enough. furthermore, he would be gratified if ministers would realise the gravity of the situation and please refrain from talking nonsense.

It was the moment for the ministers to wreak their vengeance. What, they asked with a kind of malicious expectation, was the prime minister's own suggestion for confronting the crises?

The prime minister, undaunted, began to speak in earnest.