See-See TV

See-See TV

          The Great Leader was beautifully dressed in his shiny yellow silk Chinese suit as he sat behind his huge rosewood desk, scowling dreadfully. He was scowling and growling at the latest story about himself on Yapdog, under the headline ‘The Great Leader Barks But Can’t Bite’. Then, above the gnashing of his ancient teeth he heard the sound of a polite knock upon the heavy mukwa door at the other end of his office. ‘Come in!’ he barked angrily, without looking up.

          Into the room came a little fat Chinaman dressed in a quiet grey English suit. The Chinaman then groveled all the way to the vast desk and stood there transfixed in a permanent half-bow. The Great Leader continued scowling at the laptop and barked ‘Don’t just stand there! Don’t you know who I am! Get down on your knees!’

          Finally the Great Leader deigned to look up, and saw nobody. So he stood up and peered over the edge of his desk, only to find the Chinaman groveling horizontally on the floor, and fast disappearing into the thick pile of the rich red carpet. He immediately ran all the way round the perimeter of the mighty desk to rescue the poor fellow.

          ‘A thousand apologies my dear brother,’ he said as he helped the Chinaman to his feet and dusted him down. ‘I quite thought it was one of my idiot ministers. Do forgive me. Come and sit with me over here,’ he said, pointing to an array of black suede armchairs over by the French windows.

          ‘How can I assist you?’ asked the Great Leader graciously, as they both sank into the soft voluminous chairs. ‘Or better still, how can you assist me?’

          ‘I am U See Me,’ explained U See Me, ‘and I have been sent by His Excellencee the Mighty Chinese Emperor, otherwise known as the Humble Servant of the Peepullee. He send me here to give you See-See TV.’

          ‘Thank you very much,’ said the Great Leader politely. ‘But we already have TV which we See-See every day. No need for more See-See.’

          ‘This TV velly differentee,’ explained U See Me. ‘With See-See TV you see if all the peepull are glateful to their Glate Leader. You can See-See what they are doing all the time. Velly See-See.’

          ‘Ah ha!’ exclaimed the Great Leader, ‘you mean CCTV!’

          ‘Ho ho no no,’ said U See Me, ‘CCTV is Chinese Central Television!’

          ‘No no,’ said the Great Leader in desperation,’ we already have Chinese Central TV. But we use Closed Circuit TV, which we call CCTV, to spy on poor people in Shoprite, to make sure that the starving don’t s steal a slice of bread.’

          ‘Oh no no,’ laughed U See Me, ‘this is not Closed Circuit TV or Chinese Central TV, this is the marvellee See-See TV. Not just to spy on the starving, but to spy on everybody!’

          ‘That’s not the way we do it here,’ explained the Great Leader. ‘I just spy on my enemies, not on everybody.’

          ‘But what about your friends?’ said U See Me, ‘Can you See-See them all the time? They might be your enemies!’

          ‘Hmm,’ said the Great Leader thoughtfully. ‘How much does this thing cost?’

          ‘Only $200million for one set of equipment to do Lusaka.’

          ‘I don’t know,’ said the Great Leader doubtfully. ‘My predecessor bought mobile hospitals to reach people where there were no clinics. But later he discovered that the places which had no clinics also had no roads. He made such an ass of himself that people are still laughing!’

          ‘Look,’ said U See Me. ‘See-See TV is not silly. It is your existing system which is silly. Your system works the wong way wound. All the people are watching the government on TV to see what you are doing wong. But the government is not using the TV to watch the peepullee to see what they are doing wong. See-See TV can install a devicee to look at them while they are looking at you. Any disloyalty will be seen immediately, and you can lock up the culprit. You can even search a dissident’s housee the very same nightee. Look for stolen library bookee and all such seditious attacks upon the state.’

          ‘I don’t know,’ sighed The Great Leader. ‘I’m already getting too many irritating phone calls from the American Ambassador.’

          ‘But with See-See TV,’ said U See Me, ‘you can keep your election promises.’

          ‘Such as what promise?’

          ‘Such as no development unless you vote for me. You just puttee See-See TV in every polling stationee, and you’ll see-see who doesn’t votee for you.’

          ‘Poof,’ scoffed The Great Leader, ‘I already know all that! And anyway I can never keep that promise because I always have to give more development to the ones who voted against, so that I can win next time!’

          ‘Ah ha!’ said U See Me, clapping his hands with glee. ‘See-See TV can make very sure you win next time!’

          ‘Really?’ said The Great Leader, now sitting up straight. ‘How does it do that?’

          ‘You just buy See-See TV and I’ll assist with your election expenses!’

          ‘Now that’s more like it! Why didn’t you say so before!’ laughed The Great Leader, as he now stood up and shook the Chinaman by the hand. ‘Then I’ll take four of them! On condition that this is a deal just between you and me!’

          U See Me looked nervously round the ceiling as he shook the Great Leader’s hand. ‘Let’s hope nobody can See-See!’

           

             

2023

2023

            ‘This is Stephen Cole on Al Jazeera. For our weekly Africa Interview we go over to Sulaka, the capital of Zombieland, to talk to the famous government propagandist Kibamba Chanyama. Welcome to the interview, Kibamba. First of all I’d like you to give us a bit of background on how the one-party state managed to re-emerge in Zombieland.’

          A fat self-satisfied face appeared upon the screen. ‘Thank you Stephen. It all began ten years ago, in 2013, after Zombieland’s most intrepid explorer, the late Dotty Scotty, had reached as far as North Korea, a country that no Zombie had previously reached. What he found was a revelation. All the people were dressed exactly the same, and spent most of their time marching up and down in front of their Great Leader Kim Jong Un, singing and cheering and waving their flags, and obeying his orders without question and with happy smiling faces.’

          ‘Dotty Scotty must have been terribly shocked.’

          ‘Good gracious no, he was very impressed, and declared that this looked like a very good system of government!’

          ‘Was he a fascist?’

          ‘Oh good gracious no,’ laughed Kibamba. ‘But he was very impressed by such a show of national unity. You see, in those days Zombieland was a very confused place and government was very difficult. The new Zombie government of the Punching Fist had been energetically punching in various directions, but not hitting any of its targets. Everybody had a different idea of how the country should be governed, and nobody took the government seriously.’

          ‘Didn’t the Punching Fist have a clear programme?’

          ‘Unfortunately not. They had promised everything to everybody and therefore nothing to anybody. Everybody was saying different things and arguing with each other. So when Dotty Scotty went to North Korea and saw everybody speaking with one voice he was very impressed.

So he stayed there for some time to study the system, so he could bring its benefits back to Zombieland.

          ‘Who was the president of Zombieland at that time?’

          ‘A man called Cycle Mata. But when Dotty Scotty explained to him the Korean system, he immediately changed his name to the Great Leader Pscho Ma Ta. His Punching Fist became the Paternal Father, meaning that he was now in charge of everybody.’

          ‘So how did he gain control over his constantly quarreling rabble.’

          ‘The first thing he did was to change the Constitution, which had previously been a long rambling document of 200 pages which nobody understood. He replaced it with a single sentence which said The Word of the Paternal Father is Law and All Must Obey.’

          ‘But did parliament agree to this?’

          ‘Stephen,’ laughed Kibamba, ‘You’re not seeing the implications properly. If the Paternal Father makes the law, then there is no need for a legislature. So parliament was automatically abolished!’

          ‘Wasn’t this challenged in court?’

          ‘Try to adjust your thinking,’ replied Kibamba impatiently. ‘There is no need for a court to interpret the law if the Paternal Father is the law. So courts were also abolished.’

          ‘But on what principles was the Great Leader operating?’

          ‘He acted according to his own philosophical principles.’

          ‘Did he have any?’

          ‘That’s where I came in,’ replied Kibamba proudly. ‘I was appointed the Chief Commissioner for Ideology and Propaganda and employed to write the Thoughts of the Great Leader Pscho Ma Ta which became the curriculum in school and university. All other books were banned.’

          ‘So did people stop quarreling?’

          ‘Of course. People had to follow the Thoughts of the Great Leader, so they were all of the same opinion.’

          ‘Didn’t the chiefs rebel against this intrusion into their traditional power over their subjects?’

          ‘The Great Leader had the Great Idea of putting CCTV cameras in all their bedrooms, and it soon became apparent that their nocturnal behaviour transgressed all traditional moral norms. After the public exposure of their scandalous behaviour they were all detained on Lichubi Island.’

          ‘Did anybody complain?’

          ‘Only a few. They were also sent to Lichubi Island.’

          ‘And did the economy improve?’

          ‘We soon had full employment, just as the Great Leader had promised. Half of the labour force was put into the army to march up and down and praise the Great Leader. The other half of the labour force was put down the mines to dig out copper to be sent to North Korea.’

          ‘What happened to all the money from the copper?’

          ‘It was used to pay the army to march up and down in praise of the Great Leader.’

          ‘Surely there must have been a lot of argument about all this in the press?’

          ‘All argument,’ explained Kibamba, ‘was banned in favour of national unity, peace and harmony, which were the essential principles in the Thoughts of the Great Leader. North Korean technology was used to channel all news through a department under my control known as ZNBC, Zombie News Banning and Censorship. In this way people didn’t get upset about anything divisive, unpatriotic or treasonable.’

          ‘And then this great African totalitarian experiment collapsed earlier this year, when Paramount Chief Kalaki escaped from Lichubi Island and began his great thousand mile march on Sulaka and, with his rallying cry of  Democracy and the Human Rights, restored multi-party democracy to Zombieland.’

          ‘It was a sad day for dictatorship,’ replied Kibamba.

          ‘Do you think democracy can ever work in Zombieland?’

          ‘Never!’ replied Kibamba.

          ‘Is that because the principles of democracy and human rights have been forgotten?’

          ‘Certainly not!’ replied Kibamba.

          ‘So the principles of democracy have been remembered?’

          ‘Certainly not!’ said Kibamba. ‘They were never understood in the first place!’

          ‘Well, thanks for talking to us,’ said Stephen. ‘And we do hope that you’ll soon be released from Kamfinsa Prison.’  

  

             

Michael's New Year Message

Michael’s New Year Message

            I knocked on the door and went straight in. He was sitting upright in his armchair, wearing his full dress uniform as Commander-in-Chief, with gold braid, and a long row of medals for bravery awarded during the long and arduous Third Term Campaign.

          ‘Hah, Spectator Kalaki,’ he greeted me gruffly, ‘if you’re looking for a job you’re too awkward, too cheeky and no good at licking boots. And also you’re too late, the hiring has ended, the re-shuffling is complete and the firing has now begun.’

          ‘Happy New Year, Michael,’ I replied cheerily. ‘I just popped in to see if you have a New Year Message for your people.’

          ‘Look Kalaki,’ he replied sternly, ‘I am now your president, you can’t be calling me Michael anymore.’

          ‘Happy New Year, Mr President,’ I said, ‘and do you have a New Year Message for your people?’

          ‘This is not America,’ he said sternly, ‘this is a former British Colony. You must address me as Your Excellency Dr Michael Chilufya Sata MBR.’

          ‘But Your Excellency, when did you acquire an excellent doctorate, Your Exellency?’

          ‘Your friend Doctor Dotty Scotty found it on www.doctorate.com for only ten dollars. That’s why I can’t fire him, he’s the only one in the government who knows how to use the internet.’

          ‘And what about MBR, Your Excellency? Has the Queen made you a Member of British Royalty in her New Years Honours List?’

          He sat up very straight and puffed out his chest. ‘MBR means I am a Member of British Railways, in recognition of my ten years distinguished service as a platform sweeper.’

          ‘Congratulations Your Most Excellent Excellency,’ I said, as I bowed graciously before such excellence. ‘And now that I have finally found the right form of address when speaking to such a newly distinguished personage, can we return to my earlier question of whether you have any New Year Message for your people?’

          ‘My dear Kalaki, you seem to have a strange view of how government works. After my election I spoke to the people, thanking them for their very wise decision in electing me. Should I ever decide to hold another election, I shall certainly speak to them again, to warn them of the dire consequences of not voting for me. In the meantime there is no need for them to concern themselves with the work of government, since politics is for politicians. Therefore, for the foreseeable future, I see no need for me to say anything.’

          ‘But you yourself, Your Most Excellent Excellency, formerly known as Michael, how do you think you are doing?’

          ‘Very well, my dear Kalaki, very well indeed. I’ve had a bit of a prostate problem which affected the kidneys, and I’ve got a bit of a dicky ticker. But with the entire health budget dedicated to lengthening my life, and the entire security budget dedicated to shortening the lives of my enemies, I expect to remain in power indefinitely, or possibly longer. And thank you, my dear Kalaki, for your concern for my health and welfare.’

          ‘Well, ahrum, ah, Your Excellently Healthy Excellency, what I meant to ask was how do you think your government is doing? I mean, people are saying you promised to do everything in 90 days and you have done nothing in 400 days.’

          Despite the great weight of his massive uniform with all its gold braid and medals, His Excellent Excellency now leapt to his feet with a roar and attacked the thin air within an invisible sword. ‘People who say such things are enemies of the nation and I shall deal with them! The opposition parties are deliberately opposing me, and of course I shall not make progress until I have destroyed them!’

          ‘And how will you do that?’

          ‘Don’t you know that this corrupt country is rotten to the core? Everybody has a record of corruption, and I have a dossier on all of them! My face is now on every wall, and is watching everybody. Even you Kakaki, if I want to fix you, I have twenty-three counts against you. Join me and I shall forgive,’ he shouted, as he marched around the room with an energetic goose-step, ‘Oppose me and you are finished! That is how I shall unite the nation to implement my election promises! Ha ha!’

          ‘But Your Most Excellent Excellency,’ I protested, as he slumped back into his armchair, exhausted by his spirited attack upon the thin air, ‘It seems that there are also divisions within your own party!’

          ‘There are some malcontents and delinquents who harbour thoughts of leadership, instead of submitting themselves to the Great Leader of Destiny who has been appointed by God to cleanse this country of filth and corruption!’ he shouted, as his limbs jerked and his face twitched. ‘These rogue elements will be cleansed, purged and eliminated until I reign supreme!’

          ‘But what about the Rule of Law?’

          ‘Exactly. Now at last you have a sensible question. In the days of the colonial government the British Lion understood the Rule of Roar! Those were the days when the enemies of the nation trembled at the firm smack of government! And now, at last, the Rule of Roar is back!’

          ‘And finally, Your Most Excellent Roaring Excellency,’ I said, ‘please allow me to repeat my earlier question. Do you have any New Year Message for the long suffering people of this country?’

          ‘Yes I do,’ he roared, now standing up and thrusting a straight arm salute into my face. ‘Tell them that they have nothing to fear so long as they are loyal to their Great Leader!’    

           

           

                    

Promises, Promises

     The problem with using mini-buses in Lusaka is that you wiz along so fast that you don’t see much of the city. And you can’t be looking out of the window because you have to watch your pocket.

     The great advantage of another fuel crisis is that you can take your bicycle and proceed at a more civilized and reflective speed, free from the attention of pickpockets. And it was when I was cycling slowly and laboriously along Mungwi Road that I was taken aback to see a sign I hadn’t seen for years – Government Stores. And freshly painted underneath it said Open for Business - Under New Management.

     I climbed the concrete steps, and pushed at the peeling green paint of a large ancient door. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I gradually managed to focus on something even more ancient, sitting at a rickety colonial desk. ‘Good Morning,’ I said. ‘I’m Spectator Kalaki.’

     A scarred and sinister figure in a crumpled suit rose to shake my hand. ‘I’m Axe Chikwale, Financial Controller of Government Stores. What can I do for you?’

     ‘If you don't mind, I just came to have a look,’ I said, as I shook his withered hand. ‘I thought this place died completely with the death of the one party state!’

     ‘The new government has decided to bring it back into operation, ' he replied. 'You see, the free market is far from perfect at distributing goods and services, so we thought it was necessary to impose a bit of government intervention in procurement, supply, distribution , subsidy, and that sort of thing.’

     ‘What were the problems of the free market?’

     ‘It tends to work to the advantage of the rich, overlooking the interests of the poor. So this government got into power by promising to supply more jobs, lower prices, loans for small businesses, steady supply of electricity and fuel, more money in your pocket – all to be done within ninety days!’

     I looked around at the empty shelves. ‘But you’ve had nine months!’ I exclaimed, ‘and I don’t see much progress!’

     ‘Well,’ he spluttered, ‘Rome wasn’t built in ninety days. We’ve ordered everything, but of course it takes time for goods to be delivered, and to put systems in place.’

     ‘Has there been some administrative muddle?’ I wondered.

     ‘There was a bit of delay because of the shuffling of ministries, followed by the shuffling of ministers, causing some ministers to get lost. For example the Ministry of Sport has been attached to three different ministries, and the present minister is still looking for his office.’

     ‘So where is he to be found?’

     ‘I’ve no idea. He just moves from one football match to another.’

     ‘So can you show me around the store?’

     ‘Certainly,’ said the old fellow, as he slowly rose to his feet, desperately trying to breathe life into his crumpled corpse, as he shuffled off towards a group of empty desks. ‘This,’ he said, waving his hand grandly at nothing, ‘is where we sell electricity units at very reasonable prices.’

     ‘But there’s nobody here,’ I laughed.

     ‘Not at the moment,’ he conceded. ‘This happens to be the time when all residential areas are on load shedding so that we can supply free electricity to the mines.’

     ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I overlooked that. We have to look after our investors, and ensure that all our precious wealth is safely exported.’

     Next we came to another group of empty and dusty desks. ‘This is our new Job Centre,’ he announced proudly, pointing to a pile of job application forms.

     ‘But there’s nobody here,’ I protested.

     ‘It’s a pity,’ he lamented, his ancient lungs wheezing like a death rattle. ‘But none of our job applicants can afford the two hundred pin for an application form. So in the meantime we’re having to give all the new jobs to the Chinese.’

     He shuffled along some more. ‘Here is our most important section, the Development Bank of Zambia, which provides loans for entrepreneurs.’

     ‘But there’s nobody here,’ I repeated wearily.

     ‘Unfortunately the Post Mortem Newspapers were given all the money during the election campaign.’

     ‘So can you re-capitalise the bank?’

     ‘Oh yes. Sacking all the judges should raise a few hundred billion.’

     ‘Did they do anything wrong?’ I wondered.

     ‘Very wrong,’ he sneered. ‘They’ve been acting independently of the government.’

     We now walked out into the yard behind, where hundreds of fuel pumps were surrounded by huge storage tanks. But not a fuel tanker in sight. ‘Bit of a glitch on this one,’ admitted poor old Axe Chikwale. ‘We bought a huge consignment at a bargain price, but it turned out to be coconut oil.’

     ‘From what I can see,’ I said boldly, ‘it looks like you haven’t been able to deliver on any of your promises.’

     ‘On the contrary,’ replied Axe proudly, as he tried bravely to straighten his crooked spine, ‘we’ve put more money in everybody’s pockets!’

     ‘Oh? How have you done that?’

     ‘Now that people are not wasting their money on fuel or electricity they’ve got a lot more money in their pockets. Everybody is very happy with the good progress we’ve been making.’

     Now we turned a corner and came to a gleaming new building. ‘This is the Security Supplies Section,’ said Axe, as a policeman saluted and we went inside. There we found new metal shelves packed with helmets, uniforms, AK47s, rifles, batons, handcuffs, tear gas canisters, bullet proof vests and whips. On the vast floor were parked BMWs, landcruisers and kasalangas.

     ‘Our primary responsibility,’ said Axe Chikwale sternly, as he coughed and spat blood upon the floor, ‘is to ensure that the happiness of this peaceful nation is never threatened by a small lunatic fringe of malcontents.’

But somewhere, in the distance, I heard the sound of women screaming.