Army Worms Take Over

Army Worms Take Over

            ‘Will you not have a drop yourself?’ I asked Sishuwa Sishuwa, as I poured myself another stiff brandy.

          ‘I’ll stick to the water,’ he replied, as he nibbled on a dry biscuit. ‘I have to maintain absolute clarity of thought.’

          ‘Good gracious,’ I gasped. ‘Why?’

          ‘Because I’m preparing a paper for a conference in Oxford next month,’ he explained. ‘My topic is Army Worms and the Destruction of Democracy in Zambia.’

          ‘Ha ha,’ I laughed, ‘that should entertain them in Oxford, I know they always enjoy amusing tales from the colonial periphery. Of course it wouldn’t be so entertaining for us if it actually happened.’

          ‘It is happening!’ he retorted, as he snapped a dry biscuit with carefully controlled ferocity. ‘These army worms are not just biological and agricultural. Like everything else in Zambia, they’re politically motivated.’

          ‘Come come,’ I sneered, ‘You’re getting drunk on that water while I remain sober on brandy.  Or maybe you’ve been drinking muddy water?’

          ‘Have you seen the pictures of these worms on the TV?’ he asked. ‘Have you seen how they move? The front and back legs come together as the body of the worm comes up in the air. Then the front legs move forward as the body comes flat. In this way the body of the worm moves up and down, up and down, up and down.’

          ‘So what?’ I laughed. ‘Are you reading too much into this? Are you over-theorizing?’

          ‘Don’t you see?’ he screeched, as his thin body trembled with intellectual excitement, ‘They’re Up and Down worms! The Up and Down party has recruited its own army!’ So saying he leant forward and treated himself to the luxury of a small sip of water.

          ‘Are you seriously suggesting that the Up and Down Party is employing these Up and Down worms to destroy the next maize crop in order to undermine the government?’

          ‘There’s more to it than that,’ said Sishuwa, his foot twitching up and down with excitement. ‘The Up and Down party has been Down for so long, but now at last it has found a strategy for coming Up, using the Up and Down worms. Never mind the maize crop, an army of worms can destroy all the institutions of the state!’

          ‘Poof!’ I scoffed. ‘I’d like to see it!’

          ‘It’s already begun! Why d’you think GBM and all his generals with all their binoculars could not find a single member of the Barotse Liberation Army in Western Province? Because they were looking for men, and failed to notice the millions of worms all around them!’

          ‘If the worms eat all the maize, the government will just import from abroad. Such things don’t bring down the government.’

          ‘That’s only part of it,’ said Sishuwa. ‘Having feasted on the maize and multiplied, the worms are now invading government itself. Why do you think GBM’s belly has grown so gross? It is full of worms! Why do you think Splinter Kapimbe’s behaviour is so strange? Worms got into his ear and ate his brain. The worms are taking over the government!’

          ‘So does the government know what is happening?’

          ‘The Shushushu,’ said Sishuwa, ‘have been telling the government, but they won’t listen.’

          ‘Why not?’

          ‘Don’t you see,’ explained Sishuwa, getting agitated, ‘Worms have no ears! When you are taken over by worms, you cannot listen to anybody!’

          ‘Even you,’ I sneered, ‘I wonder if you are listening to me. Your theory seems immune to my objections. And what about Cycle Mata, is he also infected?’

          ‘According to my high level sources, he’s still alright. But this is why he is holed up in State House, trying to keep away from everybody. That’s why there are no press conferences, no cabinet meetings and no explanations on these strange goings on. He’s being kept apart in a sealed room, so he has no idea what’s going on in the wider world.’

          ‘Can nobody do anything?’

          ‘The Minister for Botched Deportations, Eager Bungle, signed a Deportation Order for all the worms to be deported because they’re foreigners. But the Up and Down party got the order overturned in the High Court, which ruled that all the worms were born in Zambia.’

          ‘Can’t the police take action?’

          ‘All they did was to declare that the worms need a permit to assemble, and then arrested Pastor Mumbo Jumbo on the grounds that his party is just one big can of worms. The evidence increasingly suggests that the police have also been corrupted by worm infestation, because all their actions seem calculated to make the government look foolish.’

          ‘Couldn’t the ACC take action if the government is being corrupted by worms?’

          ‘They did open an investigation, but they hadn’t realized that Splinter Kapimbe was already infected, and he sent an army of worms to take over their building.’

          ‘I don’t really see,’ I said, ‘how all this will cause the government to fall. Previously governments have been corrupted by money, but they didn’t fall on that account. So how will being corrupted by worms bring about any different result?’

          ‘The end will be swift and terrible,’ explained Sishuwa grimly. ‘In the end, the worm always turns. As these ministers turn into worms, they will begin to turn on each other. Each worm will try to worm its way to the top by eating all the other worms on the way. They will destroy each other, and that will be the end of them!’

          ‘And how do you know all this?’

          As he looked at me steadily, I saw a little worm wriggling out from the corner of his eye.

_______________________

          ‘Aaarrrghhh!’ I screamed, as I sat up with a jerk.

          ‘There there,’ said Sara gently, ‘you’ve had another bad dream.’

          ‘I dreamt!’ I shivered, ‘that I was going to be eaten by worms.’

          ‘Another of your prophetic dreams,’ she laughed. ‘We’re all going to be eaten by worms.’  

             

[Kalaki is taking a break for the pagan festival of Yuletide, but hopes to return to Kalaki’s Korner on 9^th January 2013, unless he gets eaten by worms.]

National Fire Drill

National Fire Drill

            Yesterday evening Sara arrived back from Addis, where she had been working for women’s rights. ‘You should try to do something about women’s rights in Zambia,’ I laughed, as I brought in a tray of tea.

          ‘Here we have the Ministry of Gender,’ she declared solemnly.

          ‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘that’s the biggest obstacle.’

          ‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘what’s been happening while I was away? Anything amusing?’

          ‘Absolute farce!’ I laughed. ‘Yesterday Lusaka was like one big theatre, with sirens blaring, flashing lights, ambulances speeding, C5 driving recklessly on the wrong side of the road with guns blazing, police motorcycles crashing, and so on.’

          ‘Where? In town?’

          ‘All up and down the Great East Road. It was like one big circus. Everybody came out to watch!’

          ‘Did you find out what was happening?’

          ‘Well, the rumour was that there had been a big crash landing at the airport. Some people said GBM has crash landed after falling out of an aeroplane. Others said that an Emirates jumbo had crashed on take-off because GBM was too heavy for it. Others said that hundreds were dead and GBM was the only survivor.’

          ‘Very sad news,’ said Sara.

          ‘Don’t be sad,’ I laughed. ‘When we turned on the evening news we found out that there never had been a crash! It was all just a spoof! A scam!’

          ‘What! Just for public entertainment?’

          ‘Not entirely. Apparently the emergency services were doing a practice drill, so they’ll be ready to act if there really is a crash landing! So when the whole thing was over, all the dead bodies just stood up and walked away!’

          ‘A miracle!’ laughed Sara. ‘A mass resurrection! Praise the Lord!’

          ‘Probably staged by the government,’ I said, ‘to take our minds off the corruption allegations.’

          ‘It’s already seven o’clock,’ said Sara, as she took another sip of tea. ‘Turn on the news, they may have more entertainment for us!’

          As I turned on the TV, the lugubrious face of Kenneth Maduma filled the screen. ‘Today,’ he began ‘the emergency services continued with their national fire drill, with an emphasis on how to deal with an attack upon state institutions by enemy insurgents.’

          The picture now turned to the building of the Anti-Corruption Commission, where gangs of thugs in green shirts were seen chasing the Commission staff, and throwing documents out of the windows, as the surrounding mob raised their fists and cheered.

‘If democracy itself were on fire,’ intoned the doom-laden voice of Madooma, ‘would our emergency services be able to cope?’

          Now the news picture came to the next clip, showing thick black smoke billowing from the ACC windows, and frightened staff on the roof. But then we saw the firemen come with a long ladder, and one by one the staff were taken down.

‘Don’t worry,’ the voice of Dooma reassured us, ‘the ACC is not really on fire. That is just fake smoke.’

‘Not only that,’ Sara cackled, ‘it is a completely fake commission.’

Now the Face of Doom again filled the screen, and the Voice of Doom continued to read the news. ‘The Office of the Acting Vice-President, which is responsible for all disasters, has announced that the fire drill at the ACC was a complete success. The only casualty was a fireman who fell off a ladder because of his fear of heights.’

‘I hope this really was just another spoof,’ said Sara.

‘They have to make it look realistic,’ I explained.

‘Although we were only able to show you the exciting events at the Anti-Corruption Commission,’ continued the Voice of Doom, ‘this national fire drill has been taking place all over the country. The Supreme Court was easily and immediately evacuated when they saw the mob of green shirts coming, and all is now peaceful there. The Acting Temporary Retired Chief Justice, having anticipated the event, has flown to Malawi for a holiday.’

‘That sounds suspicious,’ said Sara.

‘Don’t worry about her,’ I laughed, ‘she was too old for the job anyway.’

‘In Kitwe,’ continued the relentless monotone  of Doom, ‘the President of the Movement of Many Defections sought refuge in a police station, thinking that the green-shirted mob of thugs were after him. So the police had no option except to lock him up in protective custody.

‘At the National Assembly, parliamentarians were more co-operative, so there was no need to send in the green shirts. In a show of national unity, members of parliament all agreed to put on green shirts and set fire to the place themselves.’

‘And then,’ I laughed, ‘the fire brigade ran out of water.’

But as I was laughing, the face on the TV screen had changed, revealing the curling lip of the dreaded and all-powerful Splinter Kapimbe, Acting President of Vice, Minister for Destroying Justice, and Secretary General of the Punching Fist.

‘Fellow citizens,’ he began, ‘I have a brief announcement to make. Following the divisive, violent and treasonable activities of opposition parties, the Ruling Party has had no choice except to take over all the state institutions that were being manipulated to undermine legitimate government. In other words, the one-party state has been restored in the interest of peace and national unity. I can assure each and every one of you that everything is now under the control of the Ruling Party, and the Party is Supreme. That is all for now. Further bulletins and decrees will be issued in due course. Goodnight.’

‘It seems,’ sneered Sara, ‘a rather a heavy-handed way of avoiding a corruption investigation.

‘Cycle Mata is going to be very annoyed when he hears about this,’ I said.

‘He should have seen it coming,’ said Sara, ‘as soon as they started building his retirement home.

   

             

Who Let the Dogs Out?

Who Let the Dogs Out?

            I was sitting having a peaceful breakfast when Bang Crash through the front door came two large grandsons. ‘Hello Grandpa!’ they laughed, as one ruffled my hair, and the other emptied a pile of cornflakes into a bowl, ‘You’re very lucky this morning, we’ve come to join you for breakfast!’

          ‘Thank you very much,’ I said. ‘But was there no breakfast at No.6?’

          ‘Very sad,’ sighed Khoza. ‘The cupboard is bare.’

          ‘Why’s that?’ I wondered.

          ‘Who knows?’ sneered Kondwa. ‘Perhaps we’ve been affected by the civil war in Syria.’

          ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘this gives me a chance to have a little talk with both of you. What are you planning to do when you grow up?’

          ‘Is that all you can ever ask?’ laughed Kondwa, as he emptied the bowl of sugar onto his cornflakes. ‘What about you Grandpa? What are you going to do if you ever grow up?’

          I turned away from his insolence. ‘What about you, Khoza?’ I asked. ‘Have you applied to Yunza?’

          ‘Yunza!’ he cackled. ‘Four years of study and then find myself unemployed? Ha! You must be joking!’

          ‘But if we could just find connections in government,’ said Kondwa,  ‘then we could easily…’

          ‘We haven’t got connections in government,’ snapped Khoza. ‘All we’ve got is Grandpa in Watchdog.’

          ‘Just as well,’ I said, ‘I wouldn’t want you getting into wrong company.’

          ‘I’ve already decided what I’m going to do,’ declared Khoza. ‘I’m going to be an entrepreneur. Under the new government policy there’s lots of opportunities for youths like me!’

          ‘Doing what?’ I wondered. ‘Model aeroplanes for Barbie dolls? Curly hair for the Chinese? Mealie meal for Kitwe?’

          ‘Militia,’ said Khoza.

          ‘Militia?’ I said. ‘You mean toy soldiers for apamwamba children?’

          ‘Real soldiers,’ he declared boldly. ‘I’m going to establish my own army with their own lovely crimson uniforms.’

          ‘You’ve been watching too many films about Sierra Leone,’ I laughed. ‘Where will the money come from to pay your soldiers?’

          ‘Poor old Grandpa,' he laughed, 'you’re way out of touch. Nowadays rich politicians have to hire militia to defend themselves from their opponents. So they’ll hire me to them to deal with opposing parties, as well to squash rebellions and splits in their own parties, and also to help them defend their electoral territory during elections. It’s good business!  Militias are the latest thing in politics! Get with it Grandpa!’

          ‘I’m afraid you’ve got it all wrong,’ I said sadly. ‘This present chaos is just a temporary aberration.  The police will soon restore order!’

          ‘The police!’ laughed Khoza. ‘They are just another militia working for the ruling party!’

          ‘If that were true, which it isn’t,’ I snorted, ‘they would nonetheless arrest the opposition party militia and order would be restored!’

          ‘My poor old simple Grandpa,’ sighed Khoza, ‘it’s not that simple. ‘Some of these opposition militia are actually in the pay of the ruling party, working behind enemy lines, to destabilize the opposition. So the police don’t even know who is on which side, or which militia to arrest.’

          ‘So according to you, what is the job of the police?’

          ‘Their only remaining job,’ laughed Khoza, ‘is to use the Public Order Act to arrest ordinary citizens who protest against the party warfare.’

          ‘They’re right to protest!’ I protested.

          ‘Nonsense,’ scoffed Khoza. ‘It’s really nothing to do with party warfare, it’s really about capturing and holding state power. Even if there were no opposition, the ruling party would still need its own militia.’

          ‘Poof,’ I scoffed. ‘Give me an example.’

          ‘Suppose the Asinine Corrupt Commission were asinine enough to try to investigate a government minister for corruption. This would be a direct threat to his power. So he would need his own militia to go in there and sort them out! They would need to feel the firm smack of authority!’

          ‘Didn’t you learn anything in school about the constitution?’ I wondered.

          ‘In school,’ said Khoza slowly, ‘I learnt about the power of the cane and the whip to trample all over our human rights.’

          I turned now towards Kondwa, hoping for a better prospect. ‘What about you, what are you going to do when you leave school? Do you have a better idea?’

          ‘Much better,’ he replied confidently. ‘Khoza wants to work for the upper class. But I want to set up my own business.’

          ‘An independent business?’

          ‘Of course,’ replied Kondwa. ‘I would set up my own militia as a private enterprise, controlled only by myself. Do you know, Grandpa, if I were to set up my own roadblock on the Great East Road, I could collect more money in a morning that you get from your pension in a year.’

          ‘Oh dear,’ I sighed. ‘Do you have no better ambition?’

          ‘I have much bigger ambition,’ replied Kondwa calmly. ‘I shall use my militia to invade and take over the Office of the Chief Registrar, and then use my position to deregister all parties, institutions and authorities. When I have removed everybody else from power, I shall of course automatically take over as president.’

          ‘Does neither of you believe in the rule of law?’ I cried, as tears came to my eyes.

          ‘Look Grandpa,’ said Khoza, putting his arm around me, ‘we young people have to live in the world as we find it, not as you imagine it.’

          Just then Sara came sailing in through the door, then stopped and looked at us. ‘You boys,’ she shouted, ‘have you been upsetting Grandpa again?’

          ‘We were just trying,’ said Khoza, ‘to introduce him to the real world.’

          ‘Well stop it immediately,’ she shouted. ‘He’s far too old for that!’