A KONKODI IN STATE HOUSE! (Part 2)

Last month, a carnival mood had engulfed State House as the konkodi-turned-president celebrated his inauguration. Well, too much of a good thing is even better so here’s Alexander Nderitu with more of the same:

It’s midnight now. The minute hand of the clock has married the hour hand in a silent ceremony. The city of Nairobi is as silent as the grave; empty roads gleam peacefully in the moonlight; in the residential areas, children are sleeping the sleep of the just. State House is a different story. They party is in full swing, people dancing and the DJ spinning his disks. Jua Cali’s ‘Bidii Yangu’ pumps out of mega-watt speakers: ‘Hakuna cha huzuni hapa, raha ni tele / Wale wamesahau - muziki yangu bado ni ‘genge’/ Wale wanatudharau – tafadhali msifanye nicheke!

A cloud of chilled steam from the fog machine clears to reveal the konkodi still sitting in the leather sofa next to his Presidential advisor and two buddies. In short order, a State House aid appears carrying a cordless phone:

Aid: Your Excellency, you have a phone call from Dubai.

Konkodi: Ni nani sasa?

Aid: He says he is “Artur Margaryan.”

Konkodi: Yule mamluki?

Aid: Yes, I believe so.

The konkodi takes the phone and starts walking around as he talks.

Konkodi: Sema, dadi?

Artur: Mr. President…I’m glad you get elected, you know…The previous government,

they kick me out of country…

Konkodi: Tuliza boli, bro. Kwanza niambie kama ni kweli uliita wakenya “black

monkeys”. Sisi tunakaa kama nyani? Umewai cheki wathii wakiwa juu ya mti wakisema “Nyef, nyef” kama tumbili?

Artur: No, no, Mr. President…I not call Kenyans monkey. But when I was on the street,

some Kenyans start making noise at me. I tell them they are ‘jumping up and down like monkeys’ but I not call Kenyans monkeys.

Konkodi: O-o-o-h! Kwa hivo ulisema “kama nyani” sio kusema sisi sote ni nyani?.

Artur: Yes..These men on the street were cowards. I am only one man and they were

afraid of me, you know. Instead of punching or kicking me, they jump up and down singing war songs…I start to smile, you know…Making noise cannot scare a real man like me… When George Bush make war with Iraq, did he start jumping up and down in Oval Office like a maasai or did he send jets to drop bombs, eh? Kenyan men big cowards.

Konkodi: Hapo umewaweza – hata mimi nilishangaa vile hao wathii walikua

wanakuogopa.

Artur: But Kenya very good country…Kenyan women best women in the world, I tell

you. Right now, my brother, Sargsyan, is reading the book I Dreamt of Africa by

Kuki Gallman…And he is still wearing his round goggles, probably wondering why it’s so dark…Mr.President, the reason why I call is because I want to come back to Kenya.

Konkodi: Kwa nini murudi huku na vile m’lileta nare wakati huo mwingine?

Artur: No, no, Mr. President. The people on the street make noise…I am just a

businessman, I want to come and check on my investments…Every day, I was spending one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand shillings in your country -

Konkodi: Kwani ulikua unanuna ndai moja kilu siku?

Artur: No…I spend on my girlfriend, my food, my clothes…

Konkodi: Ati girlfriend? Ulikua unatimia do hizo zote juu ya manzi? Inaonekana huyo

alikua kinyaunyau ile mbaya! Ingekua ni mimi nilikua na hizo pesa, ningenunua nyumba, niipambe, ninunue TV na tenje – na bado ningukua na huyo kinyanyaunyau.

Very appropriately, the DJ is at this precise moment playing Damian Marley’s ‘Beautiful’:

All this blinging, it's like you forgot / Use cheddar as the bait den you recruit a rat

Artur: If you allow me come back to Kenya…I could do business with you. If you want

import things from Dubai, you give me tender, I supply, no problem.

Konkodi (after giving it some thought): Na hiyo inaweza kua janta poa…Vitu kama nini?

Artur: Anything at all, I have big business contacts. Equipment for military, police force,

cheap cars, gold, diamonds…Anything.

Konkodi: Sawa, basi, nitakupatia contract…Nataka uniletee manyanga kumi mpya.

Manyanga ni zile 29-seater. Gava inataka kupiga 14-seater ngeta, kwa hivo sitaki hizo. Halafu ukija Kenya, nataka mathree hizo zitengenezwe zikue ‘mboko’, sio ‘mawe.’

Artur: I not understand…

Konkodi: ‘Mboko’ ni zile ‘boom boom twaf!’- mathree ambazo zimepakwa marangi poa

na ziko na mahewa. ‘Mawe’ ni zile mathree zimechoka mbaya na hazina mahewa.

Artur: Okay, no problem – you get top quality matatus.

Konkodi: Na hizo mathree zikamu zikiwa na michuki - yaani seatbelt. Sitaki hao

makanika wa ghetto wanigonge wakiniwekea hizo mishipi.

Artur: Okay, Mr President. But I need a deposit before I can deliver merchandise worth so many millions, you know.

Konkodi: We! Hebu ngafu hizo risto. Mimi sitaki hizo mambo za Anglo-Leasing, ati

unatuma pesa ng’ambo alafu unakuta kampuni yenyewe ilikua ya vako.

Artur: Mr. President, I have expensive girlfriends…I need deposit.

Konkodi: Si wewe ulikua una-floss huku na ma-bling bling kama wewe ndiye mwenye

Nairobi? Sasa unawika ati huna do? Kwanza, hizo risto za vinyanyau tia zi – mamanzi watakumaliza ukicheza. Mimi nimesema sitoi hata ndururu. Visa utapata. Ukifika Mombasa na hizo cargo, ni-flash kwa namba yangu ya Safaricom. Nikiona hizo manyanga na mach0 yangu ndio nitajua missioni imeiva, janta imeingiana.

Artur: Okay, I will bring without deposit…

Konkodi: Poa, bro. Tutaongea ukija. Kwa leo, wacha tukanyangie hapo.

The konkodi hangs up and returns the cordless phone to the State House aid. But while he was on the phone, interesting things were afoot. Let’s back-track…

As the DJ was playing Damian Marley’s ‘Beautiful’, the Presidential Advisor was eyeing the dance floor with distaste. The fog machine belched out a cloud of vapour as thick as tear gas and the dancers disappeared. As the cloud dissipated, a most agreeable sight greeted the Advisor: A tall light-skinned girl with long hair and a short sleeveless dress came into view. Her long hair swayed as she moved to the rhythm and when she laughed in merriment, she displayed a perfect set of white teeth; her skin was so smooth that if she stood next to a sandpapered soapstone carving, the carving would say, ‘Usilete kompe!’

Up till now, the stuffy Advisor had exhibited no interest in the revellers. But this daughter of Eve grabbed his attention and would not release it. In the background, Damian Marley was singing: ‘Seem like she upside the duko shop / Cause she don't have a scratch it's only beautiful spot’. As he watched her, speechless, the fog machine released another cloud of vapour and all the dancers vanished like phantoms. Meanwhile, the DJ changed the song to Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie’. As the fog dispersed, the Advisor was pleased to see the hot girl was still there, gyrating her hips as if she was being paid. She was enjoying the song so much that she was singing along:

Hot girl: You know my hips don't lie / And I'm starting to feel it's right / All the attraction,

the tension / Don't you see baby, this is perfection

The Advisor started smiling like a crocodile and the konkodi’s buddies, Beste #1 and Beste #2, stopped chewing miraa and address him:

Beste #1: Huyo kekia ameku-jazz?

Presidential Advisor: Stay out of this.

Beste #2: Manze, ulikua umefungua mdomo kama mbwa - karibu mate yaanze kutiririka!

Presidential Advisor: I’ll file your comments under ‘Who Gives A Damn?’

Beste #1: S’kiza hapa, mzeia. Ikiwa manzi amekuguza mahali, ongea naye.

Beste #2: Mwambie “we kamu.”

The Presidential Advisor straightened his tie (yes, he was wearing a tie in a dance hall), cleared his throat and brushed off imaginary fluff from his shoulder.

Presidential Advisor: Excuse me, Miss…Could I have a word with you?

Hot girl (approaching him while still dancing): Sure, what’s on your mind?

Presidential Advisor: Er…Well…I saw you dancing and I wanted to say “Hi”. What, if

I may ask, is your name?

Hot girl: Shiko.

Presidential Advisor: Well, it’s nice meeting you, Shiko. I’m…

Shiko: …the Presidential Advisor. I know who you are. I’ve seen you on TV. And I must

say that your thesis on Socialism vs. Capitalism in East and Central Africa was quite an eye opener.

Presidential Advisor: You read that? Where? How? Whaaa…

Shiko: I’m a student at the University of Nairobi. I’m doing Political Science. Your papers are still available in the library. Why did stop lecturing?

Presidential Advisor: Well, I was also a practicing lawyer and a political consultant –

something had to give…But I do miss the faculty – the energy of the students, the heated debates, the idealism of the old-school professors, the academic atmosphere…Anyway, my past aside, I have to say that I’m quite impressed. I never thought I’d encounter an intellectual in a…disco.

Shiko: You thought that just because a girl wears miniskirts and likes to rave, she must be

brainless as well?

Presidential Advisor: I didn’t say that. If I have - in any way, shape or form – offended

your sensibilities…

Shiko: Relax – I’m not mad, am I? For most of the week, I have my nose buried in

books. When I get a chance to have fun, like on a Saturday night, I like to let my hair down…

Presidential Advisor: You’re letting your hair down, all right – if that dress was any

shorter, it would be a blouse.

Shiko (laughing): Well, now you can write another paper titled: The Social Impact of

Miniskirts in East and Central Africa: From the 1970’s to the Present.

Presidential Advisor (also laughing): That’s a good one. Matching me wit for wit. You’re

sharp.

Meanwhile, the bestes were watching the intellectual pair as if they were watching a TV soap opera.

Presidential Advisor: I think we should lose the crowd. Let’s go outside where it’s quiet

and more private.

Shiko: Sawaz.

Holding hands, they exited the party scene…

It is at this time that the konkodi returns from talking to Artur Margaryan.

Konkodi: Advisor ameishia wapi?

Beste #1: Ametoka nje na mrembo fulani.

Konkodi: Ati mrembo?

Beste #1: Eh, kekia fulani mtamu kama asali. Huyo jama ameangukia!

Meanwhile, outside, Presidential Advisor and Shiko are walking leisurely past the fountain. Music can still be heard emanating from the presidential mansion:

‘Hey Girl, I can see your body moving / And it's driving me crazy / And I didn't have the slightest idea / Until I saw you dancing’

Presidential Advisor: You know, you’re like an onion – every time I learn something

about you, I discover another layer underneath.

Shiko: We’re a mutual admiration society – I’d kill to have a brain like yours. How many

books have you ghost-written for clueless leaders? Dozens, I’ll bet.

Presidential Advisor: Well…

Shiko: …and I’ll also bet that if wasn’t for you, this konkodi wouldn’t have made it to

State House in the first place. You directed the country-wide campaigns. You’re a

giant among insects!

Presidential Advisor: Enough about me. Let’s hear about you. What’s your favourite

movie?

Shiko: Shakespeare in Love.

Presidential Advisor: Get out of the city! That’s also my favourite!

Shiko: No way! What’s your favorite scene?

Presidential Advisor: The balcony scene; where Shakespeare climbs the wall of his

girlfriend’s house and comes face to face with the girl’s middle-aged nurse instead!

Shiko: Yeah, I liked that one, too. But my favourite scene is at the beginning; where

Shakespeare goes to see a traditional healer about his writer’s block and he’s saying

things like: ‘It’s as if my quill is broken; the organ of my imagination has dried up; it’s like picking a lock with a wet herring…Nothing comes.’ The doctor isn’t sure if Shakespeare is talking about sexual impotence or mental block!’

Presidential Advisor: Yes, syntactical ambiguity is a major feature in Shakespeare’s

works. The pun was the loom upon which much of The Bard’s humour was spun.

They stop walking and face each other. The Advisor strokes Shiko’s hair and, without preamble, she leans forward and kisses him on the lips.

Presidential Advisor: Why did you do that?

Shiko: I could say, ‘I like you,’ but I’d rather show you by my actions. Like my hips, my

lips don’t lie.

Presidential Advisor: Well, you know what they say: Kissing is the language of love.

Shiko: If kissing is the language of love, then we have a lot to talk about.

Close to the perimeter fence, a GSU officer on patrol moves through the darkness like a leopard. Inside the mansion, the revelers continue to party. In the middle of the grey sky that looms above, the moon shines down – because the moon also rises…And men also fall in love.

(c) Alex N Nderitu http://www.alexandernderitu.com/

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at: http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare

A KONKODI IN STATE HOUSE! (Part 1)

Previously, we saw a konkodi get elected into the presidency. Let’s go to State House and see how he’s getting on. Your host: Alexander Nderitu.

 It’s late. A blanket of darkness envelopes the president’s official residence in Nairobi on this, the night of his inauguration. Yes, the mansion is as majestic as ever. Yes, the paramilitary State House GSU and the Presidential Escort Unit guard the property. And, yes, the dreamy fountains improve the aesthetics by competing to see which one can spout water the highest. But there’s a fly in the ointment, a blot on the escutcheon. Outside the gate, there’s a long, winding line of youths waiting to be admitted into the compound. State House looks more like Carnivore on a Saturday night. A beste of the konkodi-turned-president is charging two-hundred-and-fifty shillings for admission. He is wearing a matatu conductor’s uniform and chewing miraa as he goes about his business.

Beste at the Gate: Madam, hauna pesa ndogo? Change imeleta mezesha.

Young woman: Zi - sina pesa zingine.

Beste at the Gate: Sawa tu, ingia.

A young man is next in line and he doesn’t have loose change, either.

Beste at the Gate: Hauna jongo, dadi?

Young Man: Zi.

Beste at the Gate: Basi enda ukatafute, alafu urudi.

Young Man: Wacha madharau – si huyo manzi ameingia na amelipa so rwabe peke

yake?

Beste at the Gate: Ishia ama niambie yule karao akuwai risasi! Raundi hii, hatucheki

na watu!

Meanwhile, reggae music can be heard emanating from the mansion, the inauguration party is in full swing. On entering, a visitor would be forgiven for thinking that he has stepped into a night club: coloured lights abound, a fog machine occasionally belches out thick clouds of chilled steam, a DJ with headphones clamped to his head spins the ‘wheels of steel’, tables and chairs have been pushed back to create a dance floor, skimpily-clad college girls and intoxicated young boys sway to the music, 40-inch Flatron TVs have been placed in the corners, a glass ball dangling from the ceiling rotates slowly. Media personalities are also ‘in da house’ – but they are only allowed to ‘ji-enjoy’, not report (Hey, it’s a party!) At one corner, a bevy of beauties swoon over multiple-award-winning TV presenter Swaleh Mdoe, who is dapper as ever. One girl, wearing blue jeans that are sticking to her legs like a second skin is especially besotted:

Besotted Girl: I really like your Kiswahili sanifu, as in the way you speak…And

those suits! As in, do you ever wear the same suit twice?

Mdoe: Wacha nikusimulie hadidhi moja ya ajabu niliyohadidhiwa na babu yangu…

But the popular presenter isn’t the only one basking in female attention. The konkodi/president himself is sitting in a deep leather sofa, being hand-fed diced nyama choma by a model-type girl hot enough to aid global warming. The Presidential Advisor is not amused.

Presidential Advisor: Mr. President, this is scandalous. The founding father of the

nation must be turning in his grave! If a stranger entered here, he’d think that Swaleh Mdoe is the president – he’s dressed better than you are.

Konkodi: Manze, wacha kuwika kila mara! Kila kitu kina ma-time zake – huu ni

wakati wa kula hepi.

Presidential Advisor: Listen, I’ve been reading Raila Odinga’s book, Raila: An

Enigma in Kenyan Politics, and I think that we should start working on a book for you. Remember that Moi also had a book, Moi: The Making of An African Statesman. Books are excellent for P.R. purposes.

Konkodi: Ikiwa unataka kuandika mbuku, hiyo ni poa, lakini mimi sisomangi kitu

ingine is’pokua Matatu Today, nadhani unaimesea.

At this opportune moment, TV journalist Ali Mtenzi enters the house and is visibly amused. A string of girls is going around dancing mgithi-style while the DJ plays Sean Paul’s ‘Get Busy’: ‘Shake that thing Miss Kana Kana / Shake that thing Miss Annabella / Shake that thing Miss Donna Donna…’

Mtenzi: N-a-a-a-a-am! Hizi ndizo kukurukakara za kisiasa-a-a-a-a-a!

Presidential Advisor: Great! The press is going to have a field day now! This is

going to the shortest presidency in history!

Mtenzi (sticking a microphone at the konkodi): Mtukufu Rais, una yapi ya kusema-a-

a-a-a?

Konkodi: Usiniletee! Mimi nilisema mtu yeyote anaweza kamu lakini agenda ni kula

hepi sio kuleta kasheshe!

Mtenzi: Mmmmmm! Siasa za wanasiasa-a-a-a-a!

Fed up, the konkodi lets out a whistle reminiscent of his matatu days and P-Guards (Presidential Guards) appear from nowhere and whisk the intrepid interviewer away.

Konkodi: Mpelekeni nje avute pumz!

Mtenzi (as he is carried away): Lo! Sheria huku ni kama zile za ukoloni-i-i-i-i-i!

As Mtenzi goes out, the konkodi’s two closest buddies come in, having had enough fun driving the presidential limo around the fountain in turns.

Presidential Advisor: Mr President, I know they’re your friends, but do they have to drive the limo? You already have a chauffer.

Konkodi: Hawa ni madere wa squad. Hivyo ndivyo wamezoea.

The mabeste come up to the president, ngota him and then flop into nearby chairs. One of them, Beste #1, casually drapes one leg over an armrest like a leopard dangling its tail over a tree branch. Another one, Beste #2, pulls out a handful of miraa and starts chewing on it.

Presidential Advisor: Miraa in State House? Beer was bad enough but miraa? We

are going down, Mr. President. It’s apocalypse now.

Beste #2: Kwani kuchonga veve ni hatia? God made veve, man made beer. Who do you

trust - God or man?

Presidential Advisor: Wisdom of the wise.

Beste #2: Thank you.

Presidential Advisor: I was being sarcastic.

Meanwhile, Beste #1 is checking out the ‘talent’ in the house. He spies Swaleh Mdoe tossing ‘babu’ anecdotes to an audience of beauties and lets out a long whistle:

Beste #1: We, Swaleh! Sambaza ma-dame kadhaa upande huu!

The Advisor stares at Beste #1 as if the latter is an alien creature.

Presidential Advisor: I can’t believe that you made him the State House Comptroller.

He’s a fish out of water. I know he’s your “beste” and all, but the Comptroller’s position is no joke – he’s our equivalent of the White House Chief of Staff! Do you know what he has done to the office? He’s plastered stickers all over the walls! And they don’t even have sober messages like ‘JESUS SAVES’, they say stuff like ‘WENYE WIVU WAJINYONGE’ and ‘NINGEKUKOPESHA LAKINI NAOGOPA KUKUDAI.’

Konkodi: Eh, nilizicheki. Huyu jama huwa cartoon saa zingine!

Presidential Advisor: With all due respect, Your Excellency, it is no laughing matter.

Your friends are going to land us in hot soup one of these days. As indeed will some of your recent appointments. I mean, Julie Gichuru as the head of the Presidential Press Service? I know she’s a qualified media practitioner but I highly doubt that that was the reason why you chose her.

Konkodi: Sitakuficha - huyo dame hunijazz!

Presidential Advisor: You do know that she’s married, don’t you?

Konkodi: Mapenzi ni kipofu.

As the DJ plays Beenie Man’s ‘King of the Dancehall’, a State House aid informs the president that he has a phone call from America.

Konkodi: Ni nani?

Aid: Senator Barrack Obama, Your Excellency.

Konkodi: Sawa – leta simu.

He’s handed a wireless phone.

Konkodi: Obama? Vipi,bro?

Obama: Your Excellency, I just wanted to offer my congratulations with regard to your

stunning election victory. It is my hope that your administration will not only maintain strong ties with the United States of America but also reach out to other nations as we all move toward a more companionable future.

Konkodi: Poa, poa.

Obama: It is also my hope that your administration will downplay the ethnicity that I saw

when I was on tour in Africa.

Konkodi: Kwanza, wewe hua kabila gani? Juu anakaa kama maasai.

Obama: Sorry, could you come again?

Konkodi: Which tribe are you?

Obama: My father was Luo but in the United States of America, tribe is of no

consequence. God bless the United States! It’s the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave!

Konkodi: Kabla hujaanza kuropokwa, ile mizinga inaitwa “Senator” ni yako?

Obama: What? “mzingi”? “mzinga”? What’s that?

Konkodi: Mizinga – spirits, alcoholic drinks.

Obama: Oh! Good Lord, no! I don’t own any spirits in Kenya.

Konkodi: Sawa, basi – ni vile tuu nilis’kia watu wakiita “Senator” “Obama”.

Obama: Well I hope that clears the air. Thanks for indulging me, Mr. President. I look

forward to cordial relations with your administration. God bless America!’

The konkodi hangs up the phone. Beenie Man’s song is still playing “…Welcome the King of the Dance Hall!...”

DJ (working up the crowd): Mo fire! Mo fire!

Presidential Advisor: What did the Senator of the State of Illinois have to say?

Press Service? I know she’s a qualified media practitioner but I highly doubt that that was the reason why you chose her.

Konkodi: Sitakuficha - huyo dame hunijazz!

Presidential Advisor: You do know that she’s married, don’t you?

Konkodi: Mapenzi ni kipofu.

As the DJ plays Beenie Man’s ‘King of the Dancehall’, a State House aid informs the president that he has a phone call from America.

Konkodi: Ni nani?

Aid: Senator Barrack Obama, Your Excellency.

Konkodi: Sawa – leta simu.

He’s handed a wireless phone.

Konkodi: Obama? Vipi,bro?

Obama: Your Excellency, I just wanted to offer my congratulations with regard to your

stunning election victory. It is my hope that your administration will not only maintain strong ties with the United States of America but also reach out to other nations as we all move toward a more companionable future.

Konkodi: Poa, poa.

Obama: It is also my hope that your administration will downplay the ethnicity that I saw

when I was on tour in Africa.

Konkodi: Kwanza, wewe hua kabila gani? Juu anakaa kama maasai.

Obama: Sorry, could you come again?

Konkodi: Which tribe are you?

Obama: My father was Luo but in the United States of America, tribe is of no

consequence. God bless the United States! It’s the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave!

Konkodi: Kabla hujaanza kuropokwa, ile mizinga inaitwa “Senator” ni yako?

Obama: What? “mzingi”? “mzinga”? What’s that?

Konkodi: Mizinga – spirits, alcoholic drinks.

Obama: Oh! Good Lord, no! I don’t own any spirits in Kenya.

Konkodi: Sawa, basi – ni vile tuu nilis’kia watu wakiita “Senator” “Obama”.

Obama: Well I hope that clears the air. Thanks for indulging me, Mr. President. I look

forward to cordial relations with your administration. God bless America!’

The konkodi hangs up the phone. Beenie Man’s song is still playing “…Welcome the King of the Dance Hall!...”

DJ (working up the crowd): Mo fire! Mo fire!

Presidential Advisor: What did the Senator of the State of Illinois have to say?

Konkodi: Alikua anataka kuningota tuu. Sijui ni kwa nini hagengoja hadi kesho ama siku

ingine.

Presidential Advisor: Welcome to life in high office: The work keeps coming, crises are

par for the cause, the staff average four hours of sleep per night, the calls come in twenty-four hours a day – it’s madness.

Konkodi: Ikiwa watu wanafikiri mimi nitakua naiishi ndani ya ofisi basi wanajidanganya.

Nikitaka kula hepi ama kutembelea ma-fans nitakua naiishia tu ki-ro’ safi.

Presidential Advisor: I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Uneasy lies the head that wears the

crown. Especially in a globalized world where everyone has a phone, you can send

messages around the world at the speed of light and, if Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates is to be believed, we can do business at the speed of thought.

Konkodi: Bill Gates? Hiyo jina nimeiskia mahali…

Beste #1: Ni kwa ile ngoma ya Dully Sykes: ‘Na Billie Geti kumbuka nakudai / Zile

billioni kumi - nina masilahi

The Presidential Advisor sighs in frustration. He takes a deep breath and surveys the ‘party people’ having the time of their life. The DJ chooses this moment to bring add some ‘genge’ to the mix. He plays Jimw@t’s ‘Paulina’: ‘Paulina! Paulina! Paulina! / Cheza kwa maringo tukuone / Chiki cha, chiki cha, chiki cha…’

DJ: Tuendelee ama tusiendelee?

Party People: Tuendelee!!!

DJ: Niendelee kuwaroga ama nikinyangie hapo?

Party People: Endelea! Ongeza mahewa! Tuendelee mpaka che!

DJ: Sawa basi! Mo fire!

(c) Alex N Nderitu http://www.alexandernderitu.com/

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at: http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare

A KONKODI AS PRESIDENT!

Last month, we pondered the possibility of a konkodi in parliament. This month, we toy with the possibility of the same character as President. Your host: Alexander Nderitu.

December, 2007. A seething mass of Kenyans throng the historic Uhuru Park, jubilation written on their faces. The youth are especially ecstatic, singing and dancing in a fashion not seen since NARC took power in a landslide victory. International TV journalist Jeff Koinange stands in front CNN cameras, microphone in hand.

Jeff: I am standing in Uhuru Park in Narobi, Kinya, and we are still awaiting the

triumphant entry of the new president. The turnout is amazing - about two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand people have turned up to witness the new head of state being sworn in. Foreign dignitaries have already started trickling in: The presidents and First Ladies of neighbouring Uganda and Tanzania are already here …What makes this swearing-in one of a kind is that the incoming president is a former public transport vehicle conductor and he has absolutely no political background. We’ll keep you posted as events unfold…

Meanwhile, the konkodi-turned-president is escorted to his new limo by a contingent of Presidential Escort Unit and paramilitary GSU personnel. The Mercedes-Benz limo is a marvel of German engineering. Long and slender and lovingly polished, it looks like an aeroplane without wings. The outside is shiny and black but the interior is white and spotless. It has leather seats, a suede ceiling and automatic everything. It is so long that if a person at the back calls a person at the front on his cellphone, he’ll probably incur roaming charges!

Instead of striding nonchalantly into the super-car, the konkodi runs up and down the side, touching it and kicking the tires to test for pressure.

Konkodi: Manze, hii ni ndai moja ya power!

His Presidential Advisor, a studious-looking fellow in a crisp Armani suit and Calvin Klein tie, catches up with him.

Advisor: Mr. President, we really must get going. We are already behind

schedule…and I really wish you would re-consider wearing a tie.

Konkodi: Mimi sitaki kujinyonga, bwana. (Still outside, he slaps the side of the

vehicle and lets out a long whistle.) Dere, inua, oya!

Advisor: Er…Sir, the chauffer will not take off until you are inside the vehicle.

Konkodi: Ah, iza, iza! Ni vile nimezoea.

He enters the vehicle, followed in by the Advisor. His bodyguard shuts the door, races to the front passenger door and also enters. Motorcycle outriders lead the way, followed by a small Escort vehicle with a wailing siren and then the limo. Chase cars bring up the rear. The streets are lined with cops, ordinary vehicles have been pulled to the side. The limo goes like a dream.

Konkodi: Dere, kaa mbele! Ruka mbele ya hiyo personal!

Advisor: Sir, that is a Presidential Escort vehicle. He’s not supposed to overtake it.

As the limo powers through the tree-lined avenue, the Advisor turns to the political debutante.

Advisor: I think we should go over the protocols. Now, when we arrive at the venue,

there will be a maelstrom of activity - surging crowds, clicking cameramen, TV people, security forces restraining crowds – that kind of thing. As you step out of the limo and stride towards the podium, it is traditional to effect a casual air – as if you are above it all. Acknowledge the ovation with subtle nods, brief smiles and the occasional wave of hand. There will be a tight ring of security around you…Mr. President? Are you asleep, Mr. President?’

The konkodi wakes up from his sudden sleep.

Konkodi: Manze, hizi viti ni poa mpaka zinafanya mtu alale. Ati ulikuwa unawika

aje?

Advisor: I was just saying….

Konkodi: Hebu ngoja, naona kama wale ni mabeste wangu…Dere, hebu teremsha hii

odiro yangu niweze kusorora poa. (The window is lowered and the konkodi sticks his bust out) Eh, ni wao! Wale wasee wanatembea pale ni ma-konkodi na ma-dere wa squad huko kwetu. We, dere, beba hao wathii!

The limo slows down and the konkodi whistles. His buddies turn around and see him. They rush towards the limo and jump in, one after another, while it’s still moving.

Konkodi: Dere, beba wengi…Vipi, wasee? Ngota! Ngota!

Beste #1: Hata tulikua tunaishia Uhuru Park kukushangilia.

Konkodi: Poa, poa! Ingieni nyote...Lakini mkumbuke kushuka ni stage.

The motley crew of passengers look at the dapper Presidential Advisor as if he

is a cobra about to strike.

Beste #2: Mbona huyu muthii amedunga suti na tai?

Konkodi: Huyu ni Advisor wangu. Yeye huni-show niaje kwa zile vitu simesei.

The mabeste now scan the interior of the car as if it’s a house they’re considering buying. They emit various sounds of amazement. One beste runs his hands over the seats’ contours as if they are a woman’s curves.

Beste #3: Deadly, jo!

Beste #1: Wazimu!

Beste #2: Matatu poa!

Konkodi: Sasa nani anaweza sema haujafika?

Beste #1: Hatucheki na watu!

Beste #2: Lakini mbona hii ndai imetuliz hivi? We, dere, weka mahewa!

Konkodi: Dere, uko na ile dab ya Richie Spice ama CD yoyote ya genge?

The uniformed chauffer touches a button on the ten-CD changer and a classical music CD is smoothly ejected.

Dere: Mtukufu rais, hapa kuna CD moja tuu na ni ya mjeramani mashuhuri, Wolfgang Mozart.

Konkodi: Hiyo tutaweka akina Tony Blair wakija kunitembelea…Ikiwa hakuna doba, weka Metro FM ama ile show ya Kajairo.

Beste #2: Ama twende River Road tukanunue CD za maana.

Konkodi: Poa. Ata nilikuwa nataka kununua ma-bling bling. Nataka ku-floss kama

Armernian.

Advisor: Mr. President, the nation is waiting…

Konkodi: U’stie shaka. Hatuweka wananchi parking sana – tutapitia njia ya mlengo.

Dere, tupeleke River Road, oya! Na uisijifunge na jam.

The limo turns towards the City. As it powers towards downtown, the roads become rougher and rougher but the limo is engineered to absorb potholes and it continues to zoom – despite the road’s condition, it’s poetry in motion.

Beste #1: Dere, chunga! Kuna makarao kwa horizon!

Konkodi: Usijali, wako updande wetu sasa.

Beste #1: Nilikua nimesahau – nilikua nishajifunga mshipi!

Beste #3: Lakini sasa, juu wewe ndio orezo, si utatupiga njeki? Kumbuka sisi ndio

tulikupigia ndebe wakati wa campaign.

Konkodi: U’stie shaka, bro. Tumefika. Nyinyi nyote mko ndani ya gava mbaya sana.

Na si nyinyi tuu – mtu yeyote ambaye nina-like ameangukia. Talia Oyando atakua waziri wa Information and Broadcasting juu huyo manzi anajua kuroga ma-fans - show yake inabamba kinyama. Na huyu dame mwingine, Nikki, pia nitamtaf’tia wizara juu huyu manzi ni mtamu kama beats za Clemo!

The limo reaches a string of electronics shops that are open even though it’s public holiday.

Konkodi: Dere, shukisha na jam!

The limo cruises to a stop but some passengers alighted while it was still moving. The konkodi and his ‘ma-boyz’ go into the shops and re-emerge carrying dozens of ‘genge’ CDs, car stickers and jewellery. The konkodi/president is wearing so much bling, he looks like an Armenian businessman. The shoppers enter the limo and the konkodi yells, ‘Dere, tuishie, oya! Na uweke hii CD ya Nonini’. As the luxury vehicle pulls away, Nonini’s ‘Tumetoka Mbali’ rents the air.

Further on, the limo comes across a group of girls hot enough to appear in an R.Kelly video.

Beste #2: Maze, cheki hizo manyake!

Beste #3: Si tubebe hawa mambiata sare?

Konkodi: Sawa.

Advisor: Mr. President, I must object. As a public figure, you should associate

yourself with clean businessmen, virgins, honest politicians and other imaginary creatures.

Konkodi: Wacha wasiwasi, bro. Laz’ma uishi maisha kikamilifu, ukae bamboocha.

Mimi nimewai ingia Carni na ashu mfukoni!

He sticks his head out of the window and whistle’s at the girls.

Konkodi: M’naishia Uhuru Park? Sawa, ingieni… Faster, faster!... Kaeni teke. Tunaweza bebea popote lakini kushuka ni stage.

The girls enter the limo. As it heads for the swearing-in ceremony, the mabeste plaster stickers all over the interior: ‘DAWA YA DENI NI KULIPA’, ‘UTAMU WA NJUGU NI KULA MOJA MOJA’, ‘KUMBE CHIPS NI VIAZI’, ‘MO SEATS UPSTAIRS’ etc. As the presidential motorcade enters Uhuru Park, the crowds become ecstatic; policemen on horses gallop to and fro cracking whips to keep order. The konkodi sticks his body out of the window once more and starts yelling: ‘Po! Po! Po!’

Advisor: Mr. President, we talked about this: Effect a casual air.

Konkodi: Si ninangota ma-fans?

A horde of local and international journalists crowd the limo.

Advisor: About the Press, Your Excellency – they’re as inevitable as death and taxes.

The trick is to never answer a question directly – that way, you can always

claim that you were misquoted.

The limo makes a stop just metres away from the podium. The presidential bodyguard opens the door for the konkodi and salutes. The konkodi ascends the steps to the dais where the political elite and foreign dignitaries are seated. Everyone stands up. As the konkodi is escorted to his chair, the political heavyweights are introduced to him. Instead of business-like handshakes, the konkodi insists on hugging and touching closed fists.

Konkodi: Niaje, orezo wa Uganda? Ngota, ngota! Tukirudi keja, yaani State House,

tutakupikia matoke…Orezo, wa Bongo, ngota! Umeniletea ile CD ya Mr.Nice?

After introductions, the National Anthem is sung by Nazizi and Wyre who are both in reggae colours. Knowing that he was elected mainly by youth who wanted to shake things up a bit, the konkodi decides to acknowledge them before even sitting down.

Konkodi: Vi-janaa mko wapi?

Rowdy youths raise Cain. Teenage girls go crazy, as if he is a visiting hip-hop star. Some of them throw their bras onto the stage.

Konkodi: Ma-youth, wekeni mikono juu ya hewa! Haya, sasa nionesheni hizo wiper. (The youths wave their arms left and right.) Sawa – nimeona mnapatikana, nyinyi si wateja… Sasa, kwasabubu mimi sibagui, wacha ningote wale wathii wengine pia. Wa-kale, mko?

Kalenjins: Tuko!

Konkodi: Hebu semeni ‘Mo fire!’

Kalenjins: Mo fire!

Konkodi: Poa – tuko pamoja kama Pokot na bunduki. Wasapere, mko?

Kikuyus: Mo fire! Turkwo oru mono! Mike Rua for Prime Minister! Atrr…

Konkodi: Wa-Kao, mnapatikana ama nyinyi ni wateja?

Wakamba: Mo fire! Tw aseo! Ngilu for Vice President! etc

Konkodi: Wajaka, mnani-feel?

Luos: Mo fire! Ningetaka kutuma salamu kwa baba na mama wakiwa Nyanza…

Konkodi: Mijikenda mko wapi?

Mijikenda: Tuku hapa, bwana, lakini tuko na shida mingi kuliko miti ya mnazi huko

pwani. Siasa zimekua ngumu kama kaimati ya jana. Huyu Balala ni mzee wa Kaya au la?

One Kaya elder: Wapende wasipende, Balala ni mzee halali!

Another Kaya elder: La hasha! Balala ameleta balaa tupu!

The two half-dressed elders tussle like sumo wrestlers and rain blows on each other.

Konkodi: Sina upendo kwa walami lakini wahindi ni watu wa maana. Nilipokuwa

konkodi, tulikua tunanunua spare parts, CD player na speaker za Pioneer kwa duka zao. Wahindi, mko wapi?

Indian spokesman: Your Excellency, vi are also saying ‘Mo fire!’ but could you pliz

remove the Electronic Tax Register? E.T.R stands for ‘Enormous Tax Racket.’

Other Indians: Pinky Ghelani for First Lady! Merali for Finance Minister! etc

At this point, the Presidential Advisor reminds the konkodi that he hasn’t even been sworn in yet. The konkodi takes his seat and the ceremony commences. The konkodi is formally sworn in. The Chief of General Staff, decked in full military regalia, moves from the back of the outgoing president to the back of the new Commander-in-Chief to signify the power shift. The leaving president picks a general’s sword and approaches the incomer. The konkodi and his mabeste go into attack mode, shadow-boxing the air and singing war songs. The Presidential Advisor informs the konkodi that the curved sword is ceremonial and is used to symbolize a transfer of power.

Konkodi: Nilikua nimeshika nare! Karibu nipatie mtu jab! Sisi ma-konkodi hujam

kama Warabu juu ya kuzozana na wathii.

He takes the sword and shakes his predecessor’s hand.

Advisor: You will now be publicly declared the President of the Republic. Give an

inspirational acceptance speech, full of hope. Think of Martin Luther…

Konkodi: Luther Van Ross? Si huyo msee alidedi?

Advisor: No, Martin Luther King. The point is: Make a memorable speech. The eyes of the world are upon you.

Konkodi: Ama nifanye kama Jua Cali – nikisema kitu, nao ma-fans wanajibu, ‘Kiasi!’

Advisor: Most amusing, Sir. But no.

The konkodi steps up to the microphones.

Konkodi: Nikiangalia kopo langu la saa, naona muda umuyoyoma, kwa hivo speech

yangu itakua fupi kama miniskirt. Kwanza, ma-youth sijawasahau. Wale vi-janaa ambao wamekosa kazi, wanakula vako siku nzima, sasa watapata ma-jobs. Ma-dere na ma-konkodi waongezewe ching ching, yaani pesa. Ma-hawker warudi town lakini wakae kwa vichochoro ndio magondi waspitape mahali pa kupigia watu ngeta. Makarao wawache kupatia watu mbegu ovyo ovyo – watumie bullets za rubber sio za chuma. Wale wabunge ambao wamezoea kulala mbungeni kama wakidi wa nursery wajue kuanzia sasa, hakuna kulala, hata kama hujala! La mwisho linaenda kwa Mayor. Ako wapi huyu mbuyu? (The mayor stands up) Sasa, wewe ni mayor ama nightmare? Mbona askari wako hubomoa kiosk za wasee usiku kama magondi? Kama Conje alivyosema, “Watu wakuje mapema, ndiyo kazi iishe mapema.”…Na kwa hayo machache, speech yangu imelandi…Ma-fans, nawapenda wo!’

As the newly installed president leaves the fabled Park in style, TV journalist Jeff Koinange talks to the world via CNN cameras.

Jeff: …And there you have it. Kinya’s most controversial president has just been

sworn in. And although the United States is not opposed to this Head of State, it has expressed concern about the State of his Head. Jeff Koinangi reporting for CNN from Narobi, Kinya.

 (c) Alex N Nderitu http://www.alexandernderitu.com/

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at: http://stores.lulu.com/NewShakespeare