Sunday, 10 February 2008

Richmond, big guns-cum big goons and sippers.





The other day I went to a neighbouring pub whose name is Matukio. It’s adjacent to my landlord’s mbavu za mbwa he regards a palace.

As you know, sippers are like politicians. They drink much of liquor the same way politicians drink from the cup of power. They think: they know everything; and they can say anything. They tell lies that look like truth and the truth that looks like lies.

So you need to ignore some of their views and take some.

As the fate has it, we sippers, when taking one hot and one cold sort of ulabu, we tend to be as free as the molecules in the atmosphere; and we even cross the line so as to suffer laissez-aller.
As I’ve said, sippers and politicians are of the same cut. They like speculating and talking about politics.

Going back to the day in point, as I was working on my mchupa, I was joined by one guy who deceives us; he is working for national insecurity-sorry-- security alias uhasama- sorry usalama wa taifa. His name is Vyombo. Don’t confuse this with media.


This guy seems to be a school drop out. He talks of many things so as to be regarded as elite though he isn’t.

You know what? The punk said: he knows the big cheeses that brew and incubated this thing eating up the brains of our honourable MPs-Richmond!

As he pronounces the word, my brain is going into circlets! Does he? May be may be not; who knows. I am soliloquizing in my mind.

He says. "Mpa, do you know the bastards and dastards behind Richmonduli? Due to the effects of ulabu, he can’t even pronounce it rightly. But who cares? This is not the University of Manzese.

He gazes at this and that side and goes on. "This goof has been in the big picture since the times of Moses (the old man who found the country of honey and milk).

Due to the sensitivity of the topic and the facts that my ulabu hasn’t worked properly in my small skull, I feel a bit annoyed but what can I do if at all liquor without lies does not go well down the throat?

The punk goes on shouting. "The name of the bugger is ... and he is going to cause wars in this island of peace in pieces shan’t we watch and tame him."


As he skips the name, our friend Edward whose nickname is Luwasha because he lights quite often, comes in shouting. This guy is the wisest in our pub. He likes to call himself Lowasa. They call me Nyerere because of my points.

There is another sipper we nicknamed Ka-damage and M7ha. Ka-damage goes by the name due to the damage he causes to our purse. He sips without buying. When his turn comes he finds some pretext as he leaves in the cold. This guy was rich before he cascaded down to penury. His, he usually tells us, was to spend nights in big hotels in London sometimes with prostitutes or sealing big deals.


As Vyombo declines to mention the name of the bugger behind Richmond, he defends himself. "In this country you can trust nobody. Trust not even the dog or the donkey. I will disclose the name of this shark the other time. But importantly, you all know this mole is a big gun-cum goon. Because he is abusing his office he pretends to glorify and celebrate altogether."


He quaffs his beer and goes on. "Moses warned the people to be ware of the gawk but they did not heark him!" He sips his beer and goes on. "You know honourables? This son of bitch controls even other big noises. His Richmond is like a government within another!"

As he goes on, he finds that all sippers are dead shocked and are beginning to lose interest in his big words.

He starts swearing in order to convince sippers’ cabinet what he is averring is plain truth.

"I swear in the name of the great-great grand mother of my grand mother. Shall what I am saying turn to be untruth, let the late my father come and flog me."


Luwasha joins and takes on; and does not like the whole brouhaha about Richmond and the brute behind it. He proposes we speculate about why are our people lazy at thinking. This provokes all sippers who think this guy is satirizing them.

One of us says. "You gook, do you think we’re fool who should work to benefit others like the thieves and nincompoops behind Richmond?"

"Hey man, don’t call me names. What does gook mean? I am trying to help you build your country but you’ve taken me for a goon!"

Before Luwasha finishes his point, Vyombo chips in. "I too was telling you the whole saga of Richmond so as to enable you telling your MPs to disclose the guy behind the scam. But unfortunately you have ignored me and thought I am telling you some cheap lies!"

Ka-damage does not wait for Vyombo to keep on addressing them. He weighs in. "Guys, you know what? Some of our colleagues pretend to know much more than others. Why don’t you talk of successful privatization especially in the minerals whereby we are now selling tones and tones of minerals? This has even forced George from the bush to visit our country? By the way, why don’t you form your pocket political outfit and mint money?"

As he was still ranting, I realized that the discussion was oscillating into a sort of warfare. I thus decided to call it a day.

But what I learned is the sole fact that sippers know more than other who do not sip think. That is our story of Richmond, big guns-cum big goons and sippers.

Mission accomplished. Let’s meet at the next session at the same pub. So long for now,
nkwazigatsha@yahoo.coms

Source. ThisDay February 10, 2008.

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