I have been contemplating suing the government in the past few days for exposing me to situations that are likely to cause ulcers. I wonder how my subjects in dreamland would react were I to be reincarnated as Aden Duale – their demons would be in trouble. Especially if I happened to meet another noble reincarnation that takes the shape of Justin Muturi; I mean it would be one of those teams you would not beat, not because we are unbeatable but because our words and actions would send you straight to the surgeons desk for a quick operation to remove a new lymph node…or you would most probably discover the magic of the bar. In such moments, as you would already have known, I take my dreamland siesta to seek solutions in the world yonder. Never mind it is just past 1pm, it is the perfect time for my foray in to my own fiefdom.
If my dream was to begin from the middle, you would miss mundane stuff that I do not want to tell you like how I reacted to the invitation from Potus to attend the US-Africa Summit. I usually think that this guy is quite overrated, I have new acquaintances in the East and I don’t even give a damn what he does to me. I forgive but I never forget, especially when the actions are meant to demean me and my people, and my generations to come. They will read about how he never even just made a call to say that he was at the neighbour’s. Who the hell do Americans think they are?
However, as I was rereading the invitation for the fourth time in twenty minutes and verifying the signature to just make sure it was not a forged document
(let it not escape you that today’s kids think they are so smart even to control your own brain like a robot, they have invaded my twitter account three times now and one of them has impersonated me on Facebook), I received a text message.
‘Chief, there are some kids dying of hunger in Turkana. What is your government doing about it?’ Blogshifta.
Someone should kill this loud mouth who peddles himself as a blogger, I thought to myself. Why on earth would he keep on sending me text after text about some holloi-polloi in some land I don’t know where especially when I have just been honoured to attend the US-Africa Summit? Did I say honoured? Okay, I am just doing America a favour. They actually need me more than I need them. Don’t they need me to fight those terror cells in Somalia? And also protect their interests in Africa lest the Chinese take over everything? The problem is that whenever I invite the chinese just to give the Americans some goose bumps, these Asians would come with their relatives, children, wives, dogs, and meat-roasting grill. Then they start feasting on my pets and put up flower and toy shops at Nyama Kima.
The phone buzzes again. This time, Blogshifta has sent a picture of a woman burying something that looks like a baby(it has a head, but the rest are just sticks that are held together by ball-like joints). I swear I will kill this guy one day. I wish I had listened to Shikwekwe, my Youth Wing leader when he came up with the proposal last year. This Blogshifta menace has a knack for spoiling people’s best moments. The best thing was to ignore him, so I left for the U.S even without packing my bags.
Shikwekwe was right there behind me when I left, fully clad in his official army regalia. In my delegation, I had Nabii Msa the Priest, Mosache the Secretary of Land, Gitoka the Secretary of Industrialisation, and Chep the Secretary for Foreign Affairs. At least, those were the only people I was able to identify; the rest, I could not tell who was who but all in all, we were around 60 males and 20 females. I noticed that our number had reduced a bit when we boarded the connection flight in London, but since I was not sure, I could not ask.
In Washington D.C, I was given the best reception I have ever had; imagine those white dudes saluting you and leading you to a limousine the size (and shape) of Mbukinya, and driving me all the way to a hotel that was out of this world. Wow! I was so mesmerised I failed to notice that Shikwekwe was no longer by my side. I was alone, but everytime I seemed confused, some two guys rushed from nowhere to help.
‘Where is Shikwekwe?’ I asked one of them.
‘I have never heard of that place, sir. Is it in the U.S?’ he blurted out to my annoyance.
‘I mean my bodyguard!’ I shouted drawing the attention of the passersby who seemed to wonder why on earth I needed a bodyguard. Who was I? Jay Z’s brother? So nobody knew who I was here? I was furious…this is a joke. I let that moment pass by.
Fast forward to our meeting with Potus; all the fifty of us were scheduled to take a photo with him – we were waiting in line, and I thought I looked stupid. How else would anyone back home believe that I was actually in the U.S? Sometimes the rumour peddlers would just say I was somewhere in Cyprus. But the photoguy – photographers and bloggers must have shared the same ancestor. The guy was just shouting, NEXT, NEXT, NEXT…as the flashes came one after the other. Doesn’t he know that back home photos are quite memorable and have to be taken at different angles, slowly, lest you leave out the tip of my shoe or my fingers??? He seemed to have also forgotten that we were heads of state here, not photo hungry kindergarten kids. Damn! But all this venom dissipated when I saw all the front pages of our local papers splashed with that memorable photo of a lifetime the next day.
I only saw Shikwekwe later when I noticed he was been denied entry to see me at the conference by one of the white dudes with a spiral white wire on his ear.
‘That’s my bodyguard,’ I found myself saying louder than anticipated drawing the attention all the sleepy bored presidents and their delegations. I don’t remember who was giving a speech then, but he was speaking of left-hand cars and relief food. Shikwekwe came to where I was andd told me something like ‘the opposition has struck again, they are now saying you are a beggar here.’ What? ‘They are even saying that you are among the beneficiaries of the land scheme that was dished to outsiders in the coast.’ I could not believe my ears! These guys had jusst branded me a landgrabber. They now think all those thousands of acres I inherited from my grandfathers were grabbed? And what the hell is my brigade doing back home in retaliation?
This conference was over. In fact, the fact that Potus never even mentioned my country as those to benefit from the revived cooperation made me think I was just being made fun of. He only mentions my country in passing, when he is mentioning his father!!
I was glad that I woke up only after Shikwekwe was back right behind me in his full army regalia. Those Americans were quite demeaning by having me look like just the common rest. Without a marrionette standing behind you, you do not fit to bee a head of state on this continent. The plane touched down and I was relieved. Back to my normal senses. Then I remembered the scary photo from Blogshifta. Wake up, dude!!!
I remembered that Kanini was coming today, oh what a wonderful evening it would be. She who walks with the gaiety of a peacock will take me to Island fantasia from the desert of frustration. I swear I will not sleep again if I will keep on dreaming about things that could send me to the grave early.
No comments:
Post a Comment