by mazuba mwiinga
One prolific journalist Jowie Mwiinga once posed a heart throbbing question: ‘Aren’t we a second hand nation?’ Like a piece of cloth taken away from a hocus-pocus bundle of thousand other pieces, regardless of which part of the skin it covered in their previous life; we pose with such clothes in public boasting that we bought them from ‘bend down boutiques’. Shame isn’t it to those who buy the pieces isn’t, but rather to those who allow the killing of the local clothing industry.
Like a rat chasing a cat, we have become familiar with wrongness and illegalities such that their existence among us is like the warmth of sun rise in the cold season.
The House debated rather, mediocritly but piously so, the Amended Constitution, and without much ado cheered and hear-hear-hear-d on it like we were on a six month old toddler’s birthday drink up.
A swam of ignorant us, gathered at Zeros Stadium for a Presidential Assent, befitting a Kangaroo meeting to deliberate over an old man accused of witch-craft just because he is the only one with grey hair.
Sooner than expected, rusty nasty tones tinkled because some souls realised the School Paper was more powerful than the political-belly money-powered ambition for self-aggrandising they thought their House cheers would bring them. Suddenly a marathon of cry-babying sounds flew out as some souls jumped from one political tree to the other seeking adoption asylum.
Can’t this nation be creative enough as to innovate its own political edifice without copying and pasting what works elsewhere? Today we are served with EARS and EYES to signify NO or YES for a document which even some elite are oblivious of its meaning.
I thought my ear is such an organ that can’t be likened to evil or bad or rejection. Don’t we call this nation Christian where its apostle Paul says every part of the body is as good and important as every other? Is someone trying to make me hate my ear just because it listens to everything that the sayer doesn’t want it heard?
Why do you want to remind me of the old KK days when our fathers and mothers succumbed to KK versus the Frog on the ballot paper? Didn’t the Frog signify NO; ambiguous as it was since my Father’s NO vote could mean NO CHANGE or NO TO KK; and YES vote could mean YES CHANGE (KK must go) or YES (KK must go on)?
Weren’t we supposed to let my grandmother in village Nga’ndu understand the implications of repealing Article 79 and the meaning of the EAR – NO and EYE – YES symbols before we galloped into the mirages of the totally incomprehensibly discreditable act of Referendum?
Did we even stop thinking like kindergarten pupils who swing like pendulums when stressed; when we were filling-in clauses and Articles in our Constitution? Making matters worse with our hate for reading what we agree to; did we even think that a running mate can only submit to my presidential safety if they were meekly weak souls that tame their tails at every boss’ bark? Or that if we choose one foolhardily courageous soul, can easily be a pin in the skin of my presidential ambitions? With the circus-monologues of our insatiable appetites for power in Africa, didn’t we even think that the mate can easily be the boss for the opposition in the House to usurp the powers of the powers that may be, regardless of what Constitutional obligations tied to it?
Why complicate the life of service if truly all these Jims and Jacks scrambling for power are truly crying being there for the sake of service?
Aren’t we really a second hand nation that has nothing of its original status to show? That even those we choose to lead the nation are the same old school hogs who continue taking us back to Stone Age; where the only thing that makes them smile is the cry and blood of a fellow citizen they are supposed to protect?
Can someone really show me which protection the Referendum is giving to the right of a citizen? Would you please interpret me the gorgeously phrased referendum question and picture my grandmother on it? Why is it that a nation of so many highly intelligent and educated nationals still finds itself in quagmires of hoodlum motives and actions?
Aren’t we a second hand nation that stands in the hot blazing sun dressed in our pieces of cloths from the ‘bend down boutiques’ like the King in a Magical birthday suit smiling and cheering as if doped with who-knows what!!!