Kenyan Politics: The Dream Prequel

The year is 2001. A new millennium. The drive for change and prospects of "no more baba" reaching break-even point. A 'new' Kenya. Mass hysteria over the 7Bow coalition, and a bit of International Counselling for the torture chamber vics - and, I might add, collective enema surgical removal of baba's boots from their thendeckholes.

F*%$ Man-U!

Kenya is at this time on the verge of a breakthrough, about to go into 5th on the road to democracy. So we are told. Her climate is hot and humid, with a rainy season the Geography books purport to last from about mid-March to end-May, resuming shortly some time in October and November. She was in the not-so-distant past a colony of Great Britain, and by all accounts - or at least by mine, which is exactly what that means anyways - she now boasts a few notable English customs, not least Football hooliganism.  


Her political climate is moist and slippery; in retrospect, that just happens to be the one constant today - ten years later. The other variables have quite changed: the breakthrough came and broke down at dawn; the climate is decidedly fidgety, like a not-too-straight armyman still trapped in the Don't Ask Don't Tell ™ armada's closet; and the rainbow hysterics died down almost as fast as they had been conceived. Fitting, really, because conventionally, you will find that while rainbow colours are depicted as seven, our eyes can discern many more hues; the final ones are actually  amalgamations blended from individual colours. The hues that made up the 7Bow coalition, however, were quite clearly immiscible with each other; yet the electorate chose to mix them. Go figure.

Isaac Mendez

It is therefore only in Kenyan Politics that the same safe bets can still be made: the skies remain overcast, rain clouds hanging low and gray and scowling - with progesterone levels clearly through the roof, indicating the impending scream to labour of a twin pregnancy. Meanwhile the winds blow in and menace to angrily whip through the Wanjiku[1] palms. As I take my last winks tonight, the currents are at their highest possible reading on the political anemometer's velocity scales, raging to condense and darken the low-hanging foreign clouds. My eyes glaze to their monochromatic dream default.


International waters roar, and the torrents of rain come sweeping in with all their tumult upon the corridors of the Kenya Team at August Tower. And though they play it cool, it is clear that this deafening peal of thunder striking from a distant nether land has their hearts playing trick or treat. The envoy - sent by the Fast International [match] Fixing Algorithm, FIFA - is none other than renowned football maestro, Mourinho wa Campow.

wa Campow has been sent from the Haga headquarters to investigate an alleged conspiracy that occurred during the Kenya Team’s last match of the season, playing against Wanjiku FC. It was to be a crucial game, the winner being crowned champion for the next 5 years. The venue was the Journeycom Pirates Coliseum, Kenya's state-of-the-fart stadium. While details are still sketchy on the actual happenings, it has been contended that the collapse of the stadium’s east and west ends during the game had actually been plotted by two senior National Football officials, one Root Owili and his accomplice Ken Yurihu. Strangely enough, the only casualties of the collapse – and they were in their thousands – just so happened to have been supporters of Wanjiku FC. All of them. 

However, it was what occurred during this bout of commotion that actually called wa Campow’s attention to the matter. In the build-up to a ‘sublime’ goal by the Kenya Team, passes had expertly been exchanged between MK4 and Don 'Mitch', who in turn slipped a slide rule through ball back to MK4. Donning her number 4 jersey with pride, Marda Karwa set herself up deftly with her first touch…and voila! Kenya Team 1; Wanjiku FC nil.

It was only in analyzing the replays that fans the world over – not least wa Campo’s institution – dug up a curious detail. In the entire time it took for half the stadium to cave in, not one Kenya Team player stopped to feed what would have been their only response to such an unexpectedly disastrous happening. Curiosity. Instead, they studiously passed the ball around the dazed and motionless Wanjiku FC players, scored the goal that would eventually cost WFC their previously unblemished record, and went on to celebrate vicariously, blaring tunes of ‘Unbwoggable!’ in the background. Even stranger was the fact that referee Mos' Wacko actually allowed the goal to stand. 

And so it would come to pass that every morning for the next couple of weeks, the universe - in a fit of cerebral anomaly upon waking up and missing its breakfast - would cavort from dusk till dawn, time and again conspiring with fate on an interesting little twist to further screw poor Wanjiku FC’s life up. Riots break out and fans cry foul, demanding a not so much elusive as unfeasible replay.

Soon enough the Kenya Team security are out and about, kicking balls around - yes, fellow wielders of the 21st digit, wince with me now. Soccer fanatics from UoN[2] - Unless otherwise Noted - bridging the gap between speed and strength with a spell of the plyometric exercise that is stone throwing, serving at one go both their fitness and utilitarian purposes.

It is thus that I awake to find myself in the real world, my gaze focusing slowly on my outlandish surroundings. I could swear I actually slept in my bed last night. Oh well. Better get that mud off my shoulders, climb outta this ditch and stagger my wayward thendecks home.

Burp!

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[1]

 Wanjiku is a bit of Kenyan jargon referring to the Kenyan Citizenry

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[2]

UoN is actually an acronym for the University of Nairobi