The Real Michael Sata

Buffaloes and Rabbits

Buffaloes and Rabbits

‘Once upon a time,’ I began, ‘a long time ago, the Land of Mfuwe was ruled by an old dinosaur called King Nyamasoya.’

‘An old dinosaur as king,’ laughed Nawiti, ‘what a silly idea!’

‘Not in those days,’ I explained. ‘Those were the days when huge fat animals ruled all the smaller ones.’

‘Why?’ asked Nawiti.

‘This was in the days of the jungle, when might was right, and power went to the high and mighty, and smaller mortals had to do as they were told.’

‘Why?’ Nawiti persisted.

‘In those days, when a naughty little monkey asked her Mummy Why?, her Mummy would reply saying This is the way it has always been, or We have to support the government of the day, or We’re not supposed to ask questions like that!

‘My Mummy says it’s good to ask questions.’

‘But in the Kingdom of Mfuwe,’ I said, ‘asking questions was seen as a threat to the power of Nyamasoya, and he could send his hyena to eat you.’

‘But were these large animals in power because they were large,’ Nawiti wondered, ‘or were they large because they were in power?’

‘It’s hard to say,’ I admitted.

‘You’re a Grandpa!’ Nawiti scoffed. ‘You’re supposed to know these things!’

‘It’s not that simple,’ I tried to explain. ‘The large animals always claimed that they were in power because they were larger and stronger, with bigger brains.’

‘But did the small animals believe that?’

‘Their large powerful leaders had always told them so. Their mummies and daddies had always told them so. Their teachers and priests always told them so. It seemed like the natural order of things. The lords of the jungle were born to lord it over the smaller animals. Big animal superior, small animal inferior. This was the only commandment in the Jungle of Mfuwe.’

‘This story,’ said Nawiti, ‘is crying out for a hero.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And so it happened that along came a cobra called Cycle Mata.’

‘Who upset everything?’ suggested Nawiti.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

‘Oh good,’ she laughed, rubbing her little hands with glee.

‘He told the small animals that the dinosaur and the elephants and the hippos were all excessively large and fat because all the monkeys and rabbits and duikers have to pick the masuku fruit and take it to their leaders, who grew too fat because they were overfed.’

‘And all the animals were too small because they were starving?’

‘That too.’

‘So Cycle Mata was really saying that the rich were stealing from the poor!’

‘Exactly. So Nyamasoya was furious, saying that stealing only happened when the poor took from the rich, but when the rich took from the poor it was called taxation.’

‘Then Cycle Mata said that taking all the masuku fruit was corruption. This caused Nyamasoya to get into a rage, saying the leaders were entitled to eat all the masuku, because they were larger and needed the extra energy to power their huge brains, and that there was no such thing as corruption in Mfuwe.’

‘What is corruption?’ asked Nawiti.

‘Corruption,’ I explained, ‘is when everything goes rotten.’

‘And was everything going rotten?’

‘The elephants and hippos had so much extra masuku that they were letting it go rotten, and making it into kachasu. While their subjects were starving, the leaders were over-fed, over-weight and completely drunk.’

‘Drunk with power?’ suggested Nawiti.

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘That was what Cycle Mata said. But at first the obedient little animals didn’t believe him, for they had been brought up to respect their leaders, who always did their drinking in private.’

‘But then they saw one drunk?’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘One day, when Cycle Mata was holding a meeting, there was a great crashing and trumpeting, and out of the forest stumbled a great she-elephant, the dreaded Dolla Tujilijili. She staggered right into the meeting, insulted everybody, urinated all over the elders, and then fell down flat in a drunken stupor.’

‘That was when they really lost respect for their leaders?’

‘Exactly. That was when Cycle Mata led all his followers into the Land of Zed, and established democracy.’

‘What is democracy?’

‘It means that rich animals assist poor animals, and not the other way round. The large assist the small, the strong assist the weak, and so on. All animals are declared equal.’

‘So did all the small animals follow Cycle Mata to the Land of Zed?’

‘Only the rabbits ran away to join Nyamasoya, after they were offered larger rations of masuku.’

‘And did they get their extra rations?’

‘No. It was the hyenas who got the extra rations when they ate the rabbits.’

‘And did any big animals join Cycle Mata?’

‘Only the buffaloes,’ I said, ‘because they were promised leadership positions.’

‘And were they given?’ asked Nawiti.

‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘They were all given the job of pulling ploughs to till the land.’

‘Was that fair?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘In a democracy, leaders are servants of the people.’

FLIES

Flies

A young fly was feasting on a huge pile of rotting garbage in Chainda, along with a million other flies. He turned to his neighbour, an older fellow and wiser in the ways of the world and its rubbish dumps. ‘Chilunshi,’ he said, ‘how lucky we are to live in a world full of stinking rubbish, with so much to eat. We must praise the Lord that he has blessed us with such a glorious mess!’

‘Kalunshi,’ replied the wise old fly, ‘you are new in the world, and never knew the hard times. There was a time, before the Lord in His wisdom provided us with all this sewage and rotting flesh, when everything was clean and sweet smelling, when there was nothing for us to eat, and when the humans waged senseless war on us innocent flies.’

‘So how did the world manage to change so miraculously in our favour?’ wondered the innocent Kalunshi.

‘It wasn’t easy,’ replied Chilunshi, ‘we had to take over the government. ‘Come with me, let us fly to State House, and I’ll show you what I mean.’

‘My belly is too full with this dead man’s eyeball,’ whined Kalunshi, ‘can’t we just catch a mini-bus?’

‘The pot-holes are terrible,’ replied Chilunshi, ‘the only way to get there is to fly.’

And so it was that, only thirty minutes later, the two flies were sitting high on the wall in the banqueting room in State House, looking down on the very centre of government. Below them, lolling on two huge armchairs, were two monstrous pigs.

‘The one on the right is King Nyamasoya,’ explained Chilunshi. ‘The other is his Minister for Slavery and Starvation, the dreaded Austerity Litako.’

‘Ha ha,’ laughed Kalunshi, ‘how can a man called Austerity be so disgustingly fat, he looks like one big fat buttock!’

‘Austerity for everybody else has given prosperity to him,’ explained Chilunshi.

As they were talking, Nyamasoya suddenly squealed at the closed door ‘Bring him in! Bring him in!’

The door opened, and into the room was thrown a big White Poodle dog, who skidded to a halt as he hit the fat wooden leg of the banqueting table, and lay there whimpering miserably.

‘You useless White Poodle!’ squealed Nyamasoya. ‘What kind of investor are you? He held up a copy of The Boast, ‘it’s all over the front page! Shoplift workers on strike! Complaining to government about starvation wages!’

‘You said your humans were docile and stupid,’ whinged the poodle, ‘but they began to toyi toyi all over my shop shop!’

‘When you came here from Pretoria, didn’t my minister here, the Honorable Litako, tell you to keep their wages down? Would they have had the energy to toyi toyi like this if you had kept them on a starvation diet? Don’t you know strikes are illegal here? Allowing a strike is a criminal act! Why can’t you do like the Chinese and shoot them?’

Kalunshi turned to his friend rather puzzled. ‘I can’t understand why humans elect these horrific pigs into government!’

‘They don’t,’ laughed Chilunshi. ‘They turn into pigs afterwards!’

The Great Pig Nyamasoya continued to rant at the White Poodle. ‘And now they are even demanding pensions! Pensions! Ha! Don’t they know they’ll never live long enough to collect pensions! And it’s two years since you donated to the party!’

‘Er, ah, you see,’ blubbered the White Poodle, ‘we haven’t been making a profit!’

‘Of course you haven’t been making a profit! You’ve been feeding the workers instead of the party! Get out! Get out!’ screamed Nyamasoya, as the dog scooted through the door, leaving behind a puddle of wet shit.

‘Ah ha!’ said Kalunshi, ‘now I see why the country is in such a delicious stinking mess. But how did the government manage to sink so marvelously low?’

‘Simple,’ laughed Chilunshi. ‘We flies took over the government!’

‘I thought these mad pigs were in charge!’

‘Yes, they are. But we are the ones who sent them mad. We lay our eggs in their ears. Our maggots have corrupted their brains.’

‘How do you get into their ears?’

‘Pigs are very greedy and gullible. You just whisper I know how to make you very rich, and they will let you creep right into their ear to tell them the secret.

Now Nyamasoya was shouting at the Honourable Litako. ‘Get hold of Mr Ching Chang and tell him he can take over Shoplift. Tell him I’ll nationalize it tomorrow because of mismanagement, and I’ll sell it to him for nothing on Thursday. Then he should fire all the native slaves for causing anarchy and chaos, and replace them with Chinese convicts. As for the White Poodle, the Chinese can eat him! I’ll invite them all here for the braii!’

‘Monstrous pigs!’ exclaimed Kalunshi. ‘Why don’t the humans vote them out?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ laughed Chilunshi, ‘we’ve also corrupted the Electoral Confusion of Zed. Their brains are now so full of maggots that they count maggots instead of votes. We’ve also corrupted the Judiciary of Stinking Judgements and the Parliament of Crooked Constitutions. The country is now a nightmare for humans, but a paradise for flies. Shit and rubbish everywhere.’

‘And rotting human flesh,’ said Kalunshi, licking his lips.

‘Yes,’ said Chilunshi. ‘Parasites in Government! The PIG is back!’

‘But can it last?’ wondered Kalunshi.

‘Nothing lasts for ever,’ sighed the wise old Chilunshi. ‘Some people say that when the Chinese have eaten all the dogs, they’ll start on the pigs.’

________________________________

[This story incorporated some ideas from Mayani Changala and Simasiku Kashweka]

The Divorce

The Divorce

‘Tell me a story,’ said Nawiti, ‘then I’ll go to bed.’

‘One upon a time,’ I began, ‘a long time ago, the land of Mfuwe was ruled

by King…’

‘King Muwelewele!’ said Nawiti. ‘Not that same story again!’

‘No,’ I said, ‘this king came after Muwelewele, and his name was Nyamasoyaurus, because he was the last of the dinosaurs.’

‘So how did he become king?’ Was he the most clever?’

‘Not at all,’ I laughed. ‘He was rather foolish. That was why Muwelewele

had made him his Chief Minister. Muwelewele always dreaded having clever people anywhere near them, in case they tried to grab the crown and the beautiful Queen Zambiana.’

‘So when Muwelewele died, how did this foolish fellow become king?

‘It was most unfortunate,’ I admitted. ‘The citizens called a Great Indaba, where the main contenders were Crocodile Ng’andu, Rhino Shikashiwa, Pong

Mpongo and Eunuch Kapimpinya. But whenever one of them was proposed as King, the other three all objected. So instead they made a compromise, and all agreed on Nyamasoyaurus.’

‘A compromise? What does that mean?’

‘They all agreed on Nyamasoyaurus because he was equally unacceptable to all of them. This is what the word compromise means.’

‘A very silly word indeed,’ declared Nawiti.

‘And since he was very foolish, they all thought they could control him. After being made King, Nyamasoyaurus’ first duty was to marry Queen Zambiana, the Great She-Elephant who represented all the animals in Mfuwe.’

‘So was Nyamasoyaurus a good king?’

‘Terrible,’ I said. ‘Right from the beginning things started to go wrong. He spent all his time wining and dining, throwing parties, and traveling to other countries. Instead of eating the fruit from the forest, the monkeys now had to

put it in tins and export it across the Zambezi. Then he called in the Ching Chang to cut down all the Mukwa and Mukusi trees, and export them to Hai Shang. Then the Ching Chang began to cut off all the rhinos’ horns and export them to Kong Hong.’

‘What made him think he could get away with such things?’ wondered Nawiti.

‘The snake,’ I said. ‘That was the problem. Nyamasoyaurus had fallen

under the spell of the Red Lipped Snake, an evil slimy little fellow, who used to sit coiled up inside the dinosaur’s huge ear. Whenever the king said Can I really do this and get away with it? the snake would answer him, saying You are the king, you can do whatever you like!

‘And when the king would say Isn’t this against the law? the snake would whisper in his ear, saying You are the king, you can change the law to suit yourself!

‘And whenever the king would say Isn’t this stealing? the snake would hiss in his ear, saying You are the King, everything belongs to you!’

‘Didn’t all the animals protest against the destruction of their country?’ wondered Nawiti.

‘They would crowd round him waving red cards. But the snake would whisper in his ear, saying They love you so much they are waving Valentine cards.’

‘So they couldn’t get rid of him?’

‘One day, the Queen decided she had had enough. She sent a petition to the Court, demanding a divorce. As Mother of all the animals, she declared, I ask the Court to release us all from this foolish monster.

‘But when the King appeared, he laughed in the face of the Court and in the face of the people.

‘The Queen says, charged the Judge, that you are too movious and never

stay in the palace.

‘But the King just laughed, saying the Queen is the problem. She has fallen in love with Cycle Mata, the Ugly Gorilla in the forest. Don’t worry, I shall soon deal with him!

‘The Queen is worried that her people are starving, said the Judge.

‘This is now the richest country in the world, laughed the king, I am now worth billions.’

‘He was very boastful,’ said Nawiti.

‘He had done everything to infuriate the people,’ I said, ‘but seemed completely unaware of their anger.’

‘Because he listened only to the voice of the snake hissing in his ear,’ said Nawiti.

‘Exactly,’ I said.

‘You are accused, continued the Judge, of butchering all the buffalo and

exporting them to America.

‘Ha ha, laughed the King, ‘this is just a lie from the Gorilla, who has an ugly face and an evil heart.

‘You have not looked after Zambiana and you have murdered her subjects, declared the Judge. I therefore grant the Queen a divorce.’

‘Poof, scoffed the King, you forget that I am the King who appointed you.

You are dismissed as judge with immediate effect, and all the animals in this court are under arrest for treason!

‘And you forget, said the Judge, as the people surged forward menacingly, that Queen Zambiana represents all the animals. Being divorced from all the animals, you are therefore no longer their King.’

‘Nyamasoyaurus could hardly believe the judgment. He staggered out of the Court, sat down on the steps, and wept.’

‘And did the Red Lipped Snake explain to Nyamasoyaurus,’ asked Nawiti, ‘why things had gone so wrong, and why he had lost his throne?’

‘Of course not,’ I laughed. ‘He was already busy whispering into the ear of the Ugly Gorilla.

______________________

[Thanks to Christopher Nshindano for suggesting the analogy of a divorce to portray the behaviour of a rejected leader]

Transparency

Transparency

‘Your Excellency,’ said Joey Fidget, ‘thank you for agreeing to be interviewed for the BBC. A lot has happened over the last few days, following your re-election victory…’

‘My free and fair election,’ said Nyamasoya, as he leaned back in his chair and smirked at the ceiling.

‘Almost too good to be true,’ said Joey, ‘winning 99% of the vote.’

‘Never before,’ replied Nyamasoya, ‘has this country had such a brilliant election strategist as myself. You see, Joey, elections are won well before the election, not on election day.’

‘And how would you summarise your election strategy, Your Excellency?’

‘In one word, transparency,’ he replied confidently. ‘It is essential that the voters know all about the candidates. Their lives must be an open book. Above all, any past misdeeds must be confessed and repented. Even adultery must be admitted, especially if committed on a Sunday morning. Transparency is the key.’

‘With all your problems,’ said Joey, ‘I’m surprised to find you so jovial. But before we come to the present situation, tell me more about your strategy of transparency. Did you entertain the voters with graphic accounts of all your past misdeeds?’

‘Good gracious no!’ he snorted. ‘What are you thinking? A President cannot even be suspected of any misdeed. If I were to reveal any misdeed committed by myself, I would be in danger of being arrested under the Defamation of the President Act! To suggest any misdeed would be to question the judgement of God, who annointed me as Father of the Nation!’

‘Now I’m completely confused.’ Joey confessed. ‘Then where was the transparency in your election strategy?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ scoffed Nyamasoya. ‘The strategy wasn’t aimed at me, but at my opponents. These were people who had never been presidents before. Their backgrounds were unknown and needed to be exposed.’

‘Now I get it,’ said Joey. ‘You saw the prospect of digging up a murky past for your main opponent, Cycle Mata.’

‘Exactly. I probed into his past, and what I found was profoundly shocking. After interviewing a few thousand key informants, the Shushushu came across a very old man, now deaf and blind, who said he once shared a desk with Cycle Mata when he was doing his Sub A at Mpiki Primary School in 1942. Apparently one day at school Cycle Mata was crying, and when the teacher bent down to ask the little fellow what was wrong, he hit her in the face.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Joey. ‘Obviously not suitable as a presidential candidate!’

‘There’s worse,’ said Nyamasoya grimly. ‘The teacher was employed by the colonial government, which immediately recognised the threat to its authority, and jailed Cycle Mata as a terrorist.’

‘Thereby excluding him from all elections on the basis of his criminal record,’ suggested Joey helpfully.

‘So you might think. But after independence all the terrorists were re-classified as freedom fighters and let out. So instead I had him arrested under the Gender Violence Act of 2010, and thrown back into prison.’

‘But,’said Joey, scratching her grey head, ‘wasn’t the offence committed sixty years before the legislation came into effect?’

‘That’s right,’ agreed Nyamasoya. ‘So I also had him charged with concealing the offence for sixty years. But it is not for me to pre-judge the case, I have to respect the independence of the judiciary. It was just an unfortunate legal necessity that Cycle Mata had to miss the election. And as it happened, all my other election opponents experienced similar embarrassments.’

‘Resulting in a presidential election with only one party and one candidate.’

‘Yes. But luckily that didn’t matter, because the only candidate was me.’

‘But things soon went wrong after the election,’ said Joey, ‘when the mob stormed the jail and released Cycle Mata and all the other candidates!’

‘Yes. A direct challenge to the rule of law, so I had no choice but to call in the army.’

‘But instead the army came for you, and now you’re sitting in the same prison cell that Cycle Mata has just vacated.’

‘That’s right. Unfortunately we have no suitable accommodation for presidents.’

‘So the coup was a direct result of your strategy of transparency?'

‘Certainly not! It was caused by another problem entirely.’

‘What was that?’

‘I had made the mistake of putting my young nephew Dingiswayo in charge of the National Brewery. After my election victory he invited all his friends into the brewery to celebrate, and caused a national beer shortage.’

‘I’m getting lost,’ Joey admitted. ‘How does a beer shortage cause a coup d’etat?’

‘Very easily,’ explained Nyamasoya. ‘We have always avoided coups by keeping the army perpetually drunk on free beer. It’s the only way to protect national security. But once the brewery closed, the entire army had time to sober up. Once sober, they were able to think, and also to get annoyed that there was no beer. So obviously they overthrew the government.’

‘I must say you seem very calm about the situation,’ said Joey. ‘Acting President Corporal Kaponya is threatening to put you before the firing squad at dawn tomorrow. Aren’t you frightened?’

‘Not at all. I’m doing a deal with Corporal Kaponya. I have promised to make him my Vice-President.’

‘Suppose he won’t agree?’

‘He will. Otherwise I shall reveal his adultery in 1995.’

‘A good strategy,’ said Joey. ‘We must have transparency.’