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!!!
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