The four hour drive up country

Chapter 5


The water had passed under the bridge for over a month since John resigned from his job. Most concerned had been his father who had connected him with the position in the first place. Apparently John’s explanation of the resignation citing honour appeared to his father as thick as two short planks. He had vowed not to waste his efforts in the future getting him another job. His sister had been most understanding. Rather than leave him to twist in the wind, she had morally uplifted him by reminding him that April showers bring May flowers. Again she hinted of a wonderful opportunity in the offing, all he had to do was to be patient as the future shaped up. She saw his resignation as an act of bravery and as the Greek hero Achilles said, fortune favours the brave.

It was on a bright Saturday morning when Agnes broke some news to her brother. She was extending an invitation for him to accompany her to what she termed as a ground breaking ceremony. John agreed to play along to her flute for two reasons, curiosity and a break for boredom was beginning to consume him. The click of seven o’clock that morning found the two in Agnes’ car charting down to what was to be a longer than expected journey. From the passenger’s seat, John stared ahead as the road soon became a beat-up dusty road with patches that looked like the surface of the moon. Occasionally they would drive down a cliff wall so high that clouds the shape of docile sheep hang heavy on the sky below them. High above them bald-head eagles soared, their wings spread magnificently without a wing beat. Cascades of mountains peaks added drama to the more subdued grasslands along the road. In the spread of the long grass and short acacia trees dotting the grasslands, John would intermittently spot a herd of traditional cows munching the grass happily. Notable also in the landscape were craters, valleys, gorges, swamps, rivers and streams. It was like a pilgrimage to nature.

The four hour drive up country ended in a locality that John had never set foot before. As they drove into a small town called Metsu, the atmosphere was filled with cheers and jubilation that seemed to wax and wane. The source of the cheers as John found out was their ultimate destination. Minutes later they were driving through the gates of a local primary school. Children were lined up from the mouth of the gate as they sang happy songs that welcomed the arriving guests.

Papapa! Papapa! Papapa! These claps of joy could be heard and seen from the children as the car followed the direction of their file into a huge playing ground. Agnes parked the car amongst countless more and the two alighted. The view welcoming John could only fit one context, a rally of some sought. His thoughts were soon confirmed when it turned out to be a political rally. Sitting all over the play field that looked like the savannah with dry grass, was a mammoth crowd of people tightly crammed like sardines. They sat facing an immaculately decorated raised podium. Seen from behind, it was rows and rows of bodies and heads. Clean shaven heads, fancy shaven heads, balding heads, bull heads, dwarf heads, plaited heads and wig covered heads. A thick odor of sweat and perfumes rose from the collection of people like steam from a boiling pot with a rotting fish.

The two were led by some ushers towards the podium. In the ensuing push and shove, a villainous disarray broke out between John and a young man wearing a scare crow hat. The trouble was triggered by the unsuccessful attempt by the man to pickpocket John. He swiftly reacted by grabbing the man’s hand still tucked in his pocket. “Ah! Eh!” These confusion cries from the pickpocket drew the attention of some thick muscled men wearing sleeved red tunics on their broad shoulders. Their enormous muscles seemed to draw attention to a fact beyond their appetite, that they must have found favour with the gods. On their goitre necks hang paper badges that were amusingly hand-scribed in charcoal black, ‘SHECURITY’. The pickpocket could not even disavow as the security men descended on him with brows and slaps as a disciplinary measure. He was beaten and trampled and blood seemed to ooze from his hornet thin nose. His shirt was torn, shredded from the sleeves to the armpits down to the waistline; it was held to his body only at the neck. It took the intervention of Agnes to save the man from further beating. After the incident, the struggle to get through the crowd to the podium resumed on higher gear. It however took the intervention of the heavily built security personnel to clear way for them as they shouted in native English, “Make your way for P.I.Ps”.

The siblings finally got to the podium, climbing up a staircase to get onto the raised podium. An usher was there to direct them to some empty chairs a few rows behind the front bench. John took time to study the scene closely. On the podium were special guests and dignitaries. Most of them could be singled out as the country’s seasoned politicians. John enjoyed the view of the extensive playground. It was then that he appreciated the numbers of those in attendance. In the middle of the ground was a huge baobab tree that had shed all its leaves. Perched on its skeleton branches was a crowd of young and middle aged men in search of a bird’s view. Those sitting below the tree seemed to enjoy the shadows of those above, protecting them from the scourging sun. John observed as a young boy scaled the tree with monkey skills and was passed along the branch from man to a man towards the end. As the last man lifted the boy to sit astride his shoulders, the branch gave in to the weight of the perched people. Instantaneously, sharp screams and curses were heard from men who sat below the tree. The rest of the crowd broke into a loud laughter which was amplified by the comments of the master of ceremony.

“Please I beg you, let us not disrespect our birds further by making them refugees now that we have displaced them,” the M.C humorously appealed. The master of ceremony went ahead to invite a dancing troupe that worked the crowd to tickles. Their piece of entertainment left the crowd amused. The M.C had the crowd crawling with laughter when he cracked yet another rib cracking joke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, from this day onwards the teachers in this school will never convince any child present here that man is a vertebrate mammal.” This was no doubt due to the spineless moves the dancers had pulled in the eyes of their audience. Agnes now took time to brief her brother who was still killing his brain cells trying to understand the meaning and the occasion. John heard in heightened receptivity that the occasion was a political rally. Specifically it was the last political campaign rally leading to a by-election. They were there to support a contender vying for the parliamentary seat left vacant after the demise of the local Member of Parliament and Minister for Culture. Agnes elaborated that the man they had come to support was her fiancé. His name was Joshua Kilwa better known to his friends and foes as Josh. John was aware of the deceased Minister. He had heard of his death and state burial but had not been interested with the events of the run-up to his political succession. It was only now that it mattered.

The deceased Minister was a man who had in many cases made news for controversies than for his state duties. He was a Minister who stood for everything that contradicted the aspiration and spirit of the very same ministry he directed. He had done the unthinkable when he made a crazy declaration one day. He had announced that he was dropping his African name in the spirit of embracing other cultures. Strangely enough he had taken the name Milosevic Kushner Smitschon, a name he was unable to pronounce even to his grave. If anyone else dared mispronounce it leave alone address him in his original African name, such would be in for a rough time. History had it that he once publicly scolded his P.S when the man addressed him in his African name. Some days after the poor P.S was demoted for his “grievous mistake.” Milosevic as he would be remembered was a man who killed culture more than he preserved it. His political career as a parliamentarian was not different. He had been a rare commodity in his constituency to a point that some of his constituents had come to believe he was a mere myth. Thus his demise to the nether world came as a great relief to his constituents. Never mind that he had died of a heart attack caused by obesity while most of his constituents died of hard biting hunger and famine. God had saved them by plucking off the unfruitful politician in a country where the ballot box was a compromised futile affair. In fact the same politician had been quoted saying, “I passed through an oven to get to my position and a mere mark on a worthless piece of paper by illiterate people can never move me.”

As John contemplated about the controversial life of Milosevic, a familiar face walked up to his seat. It was Allan who had earlier on accompanied him to the village side. Allan walked in just as an usher had come to fetch Agnes under the directives of Josh. Allan thus took the seat vacated by Agnes as she moved upfront. John watched as Josh embraced his sister with a warm hug and a peck on the cheek before she took a seat next to his voluminous chair. They seemed to exchange pleasantries for a while. John observed as his sister took to her lap a young beautiful girl who had earlier on sat on Joshua’s lap. The girl seemed enthusiastic around Agnes an indication of an already established relationship between the two. John later learnt that the girl’s name was Angel, the adopted daughter of Josh. He learnt this from Allan since it was the Save the World NGO that had facilitated the adoption. Angel had been lucky enough to find a new loving family unlike many other dumped days after delivery. They either died in the streets or grew up to join the ever rising numbers of street families. Hardly had John conceived this information when he and the rest were enthralled by the little girl’s performance. They listened in silence as she introduced herself in a clear, cheerful and energetic voice as Angel Kilwa. She stood on the stage confidently and introduced her piece of entertainment. She had a self-composed poem entitled “SWEEPER.” The whole field went dead silent, so silent that it was possible for them to hear their own pulsating heartbeats.

Sweep sweep sweeper,

Sweep in every dark corner,

With a new broom that sweeps clean,

The dirty germs are cornered,

Germs that cause poverty,

Germs that bring immorality,

Germs that cause corruption,

Germs that bring pervasion,

Sweep sweep sweeper,

With a new broom that sweeps clean.

This one performance had the crowds electrified, even the dignitaries at the podium rose for standing ovation to this little girl with a big message. When the crowds cooled down from the frenzy, Angel now put on a new coat for a new task. It was evident that she was not just a pretty face. With dexterity that can only come from routine, she invited her father and the man of the moment to come forth and address the people.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I now give you the sweeper, the man who will show us how to hold the broom and lead us in sweeping our stable. I present to you your beloved son and my father, Joshua Kilwa.” At this point Joshua stood up and walked to the centre stage. He raised his daughter up lovingly holding her by one arm as he waved to the crowd with the other. This he did shouting his now acclaimed and patented political anthem. Judging by the deafening response he got from the crowd, three things were clear to John. That Joshua was a man of the people and was set for a landslide victory and finally that John liked the guy. Joshua went on shouting his anthem.

“Sweeper! Sweeper! Sweeper!” Joshua shouted his anthem.

“Broom! Broom!” the charged crowd responded. It was like a choreographed choir on a Western televised evangelical meeting for such order was a rare phenomenon on this part of the world. Yet somehow Joshua had managed to pull this one out and fast. The anthem went on threatening to tear apart the vocal chords of the shouting masses.

John took the trouble of reading the message on the placards that dotted the political field. Among the ones sloganeered, some kept on re-appearing like “JOSHUA OUR SWEEPER, THE SWEEPER, and JOSHUA TAKE US TO CANAAN”. The imaginative ones in the crowds had taken the trouble to carry big brooms which they displayed like military cadets in a pass-out parade, parading their bayonets. At last the crowd settled to listen to the wise words of their young leader. Little Angel had gone back to the hands of Agnes from where she watched as her father directed the orchestra. When Joshua spoke, it was with a rich heavy voice that not only radiated with confidence but also assurance. His impeccable accent gave him out as a learned fellow yet the content of his speech was full of humility.

“My beloved country men, I salute you all and thank you for sparing a minute to come listen to your humble servant. Am not here to lecturer you for I cannot surpass your knowledge neither defeat your wits. I am here to reason with you for indeed you are well versed with your struggles and wants.” At this juncture he paused to give his audience a chance to soak in his words. Then he continued.

“My people, once upon a time there was a pastoral community that occupied a vast land. They made a living by grazing their huge herds of livestock on this land which was incidentally divided into two half’s by a valley with a big river that ran across the territory. In all their life’s, they had lived and grazed on one side of the valley. A belief that had been passed down the generations had it that the river was extremely deep and neither animals nor humans could cross it without drowning. Worse still, it was believed to be infested with ferocious crocodiles that hid waiting for their victims. Although no one had ever dared cross the river or seen the crocodiles, it was almost a taboo to contemplate crossing it. The community lived on one side of the valley facing constant perils of livestock loss due to lack of pastures while green pastures graced the opposite valley. During one such troubled dry season, one man decided that enough was enough. He would take the risk rather than watch his livestock die of starvation. Not even the sincere persuasion of his village mates could convince him otherwise. In complete disbelief, the village mates gathered at the top of the valley and watched as the man drove his livestock down the valley and on to the bank of the river. As the livestock plunged into the dreaded river, the villagers waited for something extra-terrestrial to occur but nothing happened. It turned out that the river was neither deep nor were there crabs to scare the livestock leave alone crocodiles. The myth had been broken. The villagers shock transformed to joy as they followed suit with their livestock. Since it’s in the house of the coward that men stand and point at the spot where the brave man’s compound used to be, the villagers now worshiped the same man who earlier on they had ruled out as insane for saving them. The community lived happily ever after with enough pastures, constantly crossing over the river they had learnt not to fear in search of green pastures.” Again Joshua took a break from his story opting to first intrigue his crowd that was observing the quietude of a grave yard.

“Sweeper! Sweeper! Sweeper!” Joshua shouted.

“Broom! Broom!” the crowd obediently answered. He carried on with the speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The moral lesson of the story is that a faint heart never won a fair lady. The poor houses of history are full of people who took fear seriously and never achieved their destiny. Destiny is a matter of choice and not a matter of chance. Let us make a brave leap into the uncertain future for change is like rest. I promise you that where we are going is far much better than where we are. All I want is a chance to give you back the control of your destiny in your own hands. Your wish shall be my command. I want to be your servant and never your master. Give me the broom and I will sweep this house clean. The biggest problem we face is constant famine. You see, we have been bad students of history. When we have been defeated, when we have been sent out of classroom, we have gone back again. We never seem to learn from our failures, we never draw lessons from bad governance. People ask me “but where is bad governance?” Just look at your empty plates. That is bad governance, look no further. Yesterday we slept hungry not because we have no capacity to feed ourselves. Our land is fertile, our people are energetic but because of our disorganization we cannot produce enough. Even if we do not have the technology, we can go and learn it elsewhere. We will build dams, enlarge our farm fields and do reforestation until every Sirasi resident feels that eradicating hunger is his business. We must reclaim our honour by becoming food sufficient, produce what we need and consume what we produce, it’s the only way to live dignified lives. Fellow countrymen, as I end my speech I want to quote the great teacher Mahatma Gandhi, the founding father of India. When he got a chance to address the British House of Commons at the height of India’s struggle for independence he said. I have been sent here to ask for three things. Independence and we want it now, Independence and we want it now, Independence and we want it now. Now I come to you looking for your votes with a promise of three things. Transformation for we want it now, Transformation for we want it now and Transformation for we want it now. Thank you all for listening and let us all come out tomorrow, cast our votes and decide our own destiny. Thank you my people,” he concluded.

The cheers and claps that followed the climax of the speech were unexplainable. One had to be there to see and feel for themselves. Even John had shot from his seat weaved by Joshua’s magic. Like the rest of the crowd, he could not resist adding to the voices.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! You are the man for this job,” he shouted. Agnes and Angel walked up to Joshua and joined him in waving at the crowd as he conducted his political anthem. “Sweeper! Sweeper! Sweeper! To which the crowd answered, “Broom! Broom!” John found himself begging Allan to tell him more about this man. As he heard, Joshua Kilwa was an exuberant personality, an educated man boasting in his credentials a master’s degree in Economics. He was an established business man with hard earned success in business circles with a vast business empire that comprised a major milling company. He had a kind heart and a long history of generosity distributing free food products to his fellow constituents. He had also sent many mercy caravans of food to hunger stricken citizens. He had bought land and resettled hundreds of landless squatters all from his own pocket. His was the art of giving without caring to take. Now he had immersed himself into the politics promising to bring change in a country that could use a lesson in proper governance.

Later on John and his sister joined Joshua in a home party at his village home. It was there that Agnes introduced him to Joshua who was evidently happy to meet him. He jokingly referred to him as his brother-in-law and confessed having heard a lot about him courtesy of Agnes. From a distance Joshua was a well-built man, tall, dark and handsome as per a princess’ wish list. Up close he was a jovial man, barely did he finish a sentence without breaking into an infectious smile. If you looked closely you could see round lines had had formed around his mouth on both cheeks caused by constant smiles. An imperturbable character. John took time to congratulate him for a well-executed speech. He could not hide his admiration for Joshua’s political prowess. His words peppered with the scarcely concealed emotions of patriotism, optimism and an insatiable appetite for social change. This said, John now had a tough question for Joshua. He could not understand why in the name of change, Joshua was running on the ticket of the Independent Party. To John the Independent Party was the wrong dhow to run on for a course of change, it had corrupted the country with its absolute power. Joshua heard all this attentively and at the end managed a smile. He patted John on the shoulder and said.

“Sometimes the change we seek comes from within and not externally. Do not worry my brother for with due time you will surely see I am setting my targets high beyond the common horizons.” Whether or not John believed those words he did not betray his emotions, one thing though he noted was that Joshua had a way with his words. In a more serious topic, Joshua revealed to John what his sister had hinted to him earlier on. He broke some good news saying he was in the process of establishing a new media company. The good thing was that he was welcoming John to head the initiative. Joshua asserted that the media company would give John a chance to be part of the change that he wanted in the society. He saw John as a forthright and skilled journalist, a shot at hand. Joshua explained his belief that the first battle of empowering the ravaged and disillusioned citizens of the country would be fought using media. In this, the two had fallen in line and John welcomed the idea promising his fair crack of the whip on the development. That night as John retired to bed, he could not help thinking how things change quickly. Early that morning he was so bored with life and here he was, invigorated and thinking that even the sky was not the limit. The events of the day would change his life forever.

Just as expected, Joshua Kilwa was announced as the winner of the by-election and the new Member of Parliament for Sirasi constituency. He had not only trounced his competitors but also curled their toes having pulled unprecedented votes. He won with a landslide an indication that the people of Sirasi had taken his medicine without complaint and in the future he would be calling shots. He was now seen as a rising star in the political firmament. Those who had written him off as wet behind the ears in politics had to come up with a more holding theory. Among the first people to send him a congratulatory message was John who received the news of the triumph as his own. He had a strong feeling that his destiny was wrapped around Joshua’s like the creepy ivy plant. It now remained to be seen whether Joshua would keep his side of the bargain or like many other promising politicians before him be corrupted after joining a parliament where every man had his price.

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