“What is this Enyesyeff everyone is talking about Uncle Baz?” someone innocent asked me recently.
In response, I grossly misinformed this person. As I shall do you, if you didn’t knw.
Let us first introduce the actors:
Danny Ocean: Former Minister of Stealing the Fuck Out of Donor Funds, Even if it means Sick People Can’t Get Drugs
Sloan: A Guy who wears nice suits but turns out to be as much of as scumbag as the scumbags he works with.
The setting: A place called Temangalo, the name of which, if you are so inclined, you can translate to “cut-me-own-hand-off”. Discworld fans may now take a minute to rotflmao, because that was a splendid joke.
If you are to listen to only some of the news, you will believe that this place is dreadful and utterly crappish dump and that the parts of it that are not festering, steaming, pulsating swampland are crowded with gnomish poor people, who in all likelihood eat stray dogs for dinner and worship lubaales.
The hobbits of Temangalo are poor and uneducated and live stone age lives, so they can never, not even in their wildest dreams, earn salaries, but other Ugandans can. Which brings us to the next actor.
NSSF administration: A bunch of snivelling, slimy, bucktoothed and porny-eyed civil servants who run a dark and sinister and vastly avaricious and amoral company. All salaried workers in Uganda are forced, entirely against their all their wills, to piss a substantial chunk of their hard-earned income down latrines at the bottoms of which lie NSSF.
Now, the story.
Temangalo belonged to Sloan. One day he heaved onto the NSSF and, with the weight of his considerable political influence bearing onto the back of the organisation, compelled them to buy his dump.
And for eleven billion shillings of the money they had suctioned out of us, they bought the land.
This wrought a massive convolution in the nation’s knickers, not so much because we didn’t know that this sort of thing happened all the time but because, and this was said with glee, we had finally got one!
You know how aggravating it is when you have woken up every morning of the past three weeks to find toothmarks in your bread? And this is a morning when you barely got enough sleep, what with all the scuttling and scampering noises emerging from the skirting, the ceiling, the space behind the cupboards…
You know what you will do with that first rat you capture?
That is the feeling.
This particular rat, Sloan, swears he is innocent, technically at least, because there is a difference between investment and procurement and the guidelines talk of works and services and not land etc. The republic inhaled deeply in preparation for an all-together-now gasp of “Puh-leeeeze” when we heard this but we were interrupted before we could utter it.
By a loud squeak from another rat, scuttling out of the skirting to say: “Kill him! Kill him dead! He is a rat and he knows it! He deserves to die! Bloody fink rat! Even unhygienic! Rat! Kill the rat!”
It is at this point that I pulled up a metaphorical comfy chair, gathered some metaphorical popcorn and a meta—and a beer because I knew that this is going to be good.
Which it was, as Mbabazi this week decided to refresh the spittle-spraying Muhwezi’s memory of just who he was fucking with. All of a sudden, in addition to his laundry-list of corruption charges, Gentleman Jim is also a wanted for a bank robbery.
Now there is a bank robbery in the mix. Didn’t I tell you he was Danny Ocean?
This week we also have an MP denying a love-child and a church pastor accused of serial sodomy. Plus, Bobi Wine is launching this weekend AND Morris is head of the house, but I am still waiting to see what happens next in this soap.
Now, for the benefit of Don Wanyama, who doesn’t think I am funny, I offer this paragraph:
More perplexing than the corruption issue, which suprises no one really, is this NRM infighting. I tend to believe the answers are in history, not in shoot-from-the-hip punditry, so I am inclined towards the view of an old man I know who said of a similar situation that it can only end one way: the conflicts will escalate until one faction prevails. This faction will then instigate a ruthless purge that will reach beyond the party to the country at large, and soon we are on our way to a full-force dictatorship.
Of course, he was talking about the Bolsheviks…