A famine came and austerity hit the land. The Great Committee of the university had planned for a rich harvest of fresh young minds to enter its halls. But the forecasts were awry. The members of the Committee were false prophets.
Then, behold, a foreign plague descended upon the land. Darkness and gloom were upon the face of the entire realm. The plague too spoiled the Committee’s plan. “We must erect a totem to lift the curse!” And from its hidden shroud, a totem did appear.
Then it came to pass that The Leader announced a great debt had befallen the hallowed place of learning. “It caught us by surprise”, he protested. “What shall we do?” From the High Tower came the reply: “Exhort the academics to leave of their own free will. Above all, we must be kind… before, sadly, the ax does fall.” The axe could not, chortled The Leader, fall upon us.
The Leader himself became so overwhelmed by grief that, with a heavy heart, he bade farewell. “I am sorely afflicted and must leave on account of my indelicate health.” (In The Almighty’s infinite mercy, The Leader did miraculously recover to resume forthwith his former calling.)
The four corners of the Known World were scoured by an elite team of merry men and all manner of blandishments were proffered to secure an heir to the throne of the Academy. But lo, it transpired one was close at hand.
The High Leader, but one, of our distant land had cause to leave the seat of power. He averred he could lead his alma mater away from the precipice. A veritable prodigal son doth return.
To be sure, a portly fellow of no great bookish learning, but imbued with rodent-like cunning absorbed from internecine battles in the corridors of the powerful, he wooed the hearts of the Great Committee.
On that bright summer’s day, The Leader-elect of the university was announced and his imminent ascension trumpeted.
Did I hear great rejoicing in the ranks of the alma mater, or detect nods of affirmation? I leaned forward to hear and see, but to no avail. I did see one poor fellow in the ranks of the Resources of the Human, and he shed tears of joy. And I did hear the faint strains of a dirge-like song: ‘Treaty-led, rather-Red, Diversity-fed’… ‘Treaty-led, rather Red, Diversity-fed’… ‘Treaty-led…’
Only then did I jolt awake from my slumber. It had been but a disturbing day-dream. Or so I thought.
Rex Ahdar is a Professor at the Faculty of Law, University of Otago, New Zealand, and an Adjunct Professor at the School of Law, University of Notre Dame Australia, at Sydney. This article was first published HERE
Then it came to pass that The Leader announced a great debt had befallen the hallowed place of learning. “It caught us by surprise”, he protested. “What shall we do?” From the High Tower came the reply: “Exhort the academics to leave of their own free will. Above all, we must be kind… before, sadly, the ax does fall.” The axe could not, chortled The Leader, fall upon us.
The Leader himself became so overwhelmed by grief that, with a heavy heart, he bade farewell. “I am sorely afflicted and must leave on account of my indelicate health.” (In The Almighty’s infinite mercy, The Leader did miraculously recover to resume forthwith his former calling.)
The four corners of the Known World were scoured by an elite team of merry men and all manner of blandishments were proffered to secure an heir to the throne of the Academy. But lo, it transpired one was close at hand.
The High Leader, but one, of our distant land had cause to leave the seat of power. He averred he could lead his alma mater away from the precipice. A veritable prodigal son doth return.
To be sure, a portly fellow of no great bookish learning, but imbued with rodent-like cunning absorbed from internecine battles in the corridors of the powerful, he wooed the hearts of the Great Committee.
On that bright summer’s day, The Leader-elect of the university was announced and his imminent ascension trumpeted.
Did I hear great rejoicing in the ranks of the alma mater, or detect nods of affirmation? I leaned forward to hear and see, but to no avail. I did see one poor fellow in the ranks of the Resources of the Human, and he shed tears of joy. And I did hear the faint strains of a dirge-like song: ‘Treaty-led, rather-Red, Diversity-fed’… ‘Treaty-led, rather Red, Diversity-fed’… ‘Treaty-led…’
Only then did I jolt awake from my slumber. It had been but a disturbing day-dream. Or so I thought.
Rex Ahdar is a Professor at the Faculty of Law, University of Otago, New Zealand, and an Adjunct Professor at the School of Law, University of Notre Dame Australia, at Sydney. This article was first published HERE
3 comments:
As normal from the south satire and hunour is welcomed and "part of life" and your piece is ok.
However Otago University deserves better than a former BA student with dubious work ethics and arguably where a very desperate position the former Minister of Finance has guided NZ.
On a separate matter Otago University previously never borrowed to survive and that is NOT Robertsons dna or modus operandi
'a portly fellow of no great bookish learning, but imbued with rodent-like cunning absorbed from internecine battles in the corridors of the powerful' - thanks for a morning laugh, love it.
The reality bite in this is the clever lyrics of the dream-like dirge which closes the piece with the reason for the appointment and a guide to the future reputation of the University of Otago.
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