pro box nightmare

Lately i have been musing over my many parallels with Hon Ababu Lwecheche Namwamba, at half life. He was the Chairman of the UoN Kenya Law Students' Society (KLSS) at park lands, I am the Vice chair of Nairobi University Arts students Association (NUARSA), He held a long unelected (i suppose) streak at AUSA as its chair, I am unelected Vice chair of AUSA. But the elected chair AUSA Nairobi chapter. He is an Alumnus of Kolanya, an Alma Mata of M. General (Rd.) Mohammed H. Ali, I share an Alma Mata with a Constitutional Lawyer Yash Pal Ghai, though I guess I know Ali personally.

He shaves something between a lost Mohawk and a wide crew cut, I shave BALD. He has never deputized anybody his entire public life, I am scared my first occupation after campus could be subordinate. Unless I form some comical NGO and become its immediate CEO. He has trail blazed at a very nascent age, most of his ardent and obstinate sycophants could easily share age twice with him. At age 33 he was driving a range rover Vogue- I am scared of a pro-box that keep popping up in my dreams, and parking in my yard.

Such a frustrating mountain of a profile to aspire emulating. When at a paltry 33 years of age he was giving Agwambo sleepless nights threatening to constitute an official opposition on the dawn of hastily constituted compromise government, i was still green as to what government really does and a freshman in university.

He spares sometime for his American girlfriend according to an interview he gave sometime back to Sir Ken, I hate girlfriends. But am not gay.

Wait, even at high school was i not always a deputy to somebody? Then if that means in the cause of my parallels am headed for Councillorship, i give up. At age 33, i should be having least a master’s degree too, and some productive national prominence. He went to Washington College University, I am thinking of Cornell. If i don't achieve that, i find myself a beautiful submissive wife who inherited a fortune, and construct a vodoski bar in my house.

Though at times i hate all the wild expectations that are thrust your way when you hit dais. Wild accusations, desirable but impractical expectations are swirled your way. At NUARSA, thank God because of the rock demeanor I wear around, nobody has thought it fit to confront me on the election mood promises. I made quite a wild number of them. But my comrades at the more universal SONU never escape the scrutiny. It goes from blatant propaganda to outright embarrassing exposures that touch on bedroom etiquette with their significant halves. If your constituents get to hate you, you forever become nude I their eyes.

Hon Namwamba for example is expected to divert the waters of Cherangany hills to Lake Turkwel; i expect that of him too. He is supposed to make your child pass KCPE/KCSE despite horrible effort you have put in as a parent. He is expected to grace all funerals, thumb through all CDF monies with shylock’s eye to ensure sparkling transparency. He is supposed to be OMNI PRESENT. That makes me never aspire for that office-if it were not for over 60 million in legitimate salaries, chairing a CDF committee that oversees 300 million, with a likelihood of the figure spiking with compelling evidence of further allocation requirement. The salary alone is enough for me to retire early, start a hedge fund for my heirs and woo Miss Italy with my abhorrible looks.

The CDF committee seems to be staffed with individuals who spot tumors for brains. They seem to be stealing from the kitty without the intellect to match their petty nibblings; I would dismiss them all if i was the MP. Many queries have been raised. Reports have been raised about the CDF misuse in Budalangi, not from gutter press, but authoritative national voices including The Nairobi star and live witnesses on ground. They are catalysts for ruining the credibility and trust of the MP. If you steal, cover it well. Theft will always be there. And all crimes boil down to theft. Inequality in society is what brews zealous attempts at short cutting ones way to the top.

But as much as the CDF committee will unsatisfactory manage the fund, the jury will always be the electorate and the guy in the gallows-box, The MP. The said committee will be observing from the fringes. Just like the grounds men who committed the actual crimes in 2007 were slumped in front of their TVs watching Acampo fry the six omellete.

I also doubt Hon Namwamba puts in his employ any serious spin doctors or constituency advisers, other than the obstinate figureheads who stubbornly and irritatingly thrust their noses on BUDAS making forceful defenses of his tenure. Am quite sure they will turn up on 9th October at Telposta and plant themselves strategically amidst the crowd and drown out any attempts at low hits on Tawfiq.( though the meeting has been vehemently proclaimed as not being politically inclined.)

I doubt the MP even takes much salary home, having confessed to a scribe that most of his parliamentary chums disappear in a week. I can vouch for that. Once we managed to land the one and only cordial meeting with him as AUSA. It was great assumption on our part that him having been once the chair of AUSA, being youthful and within our cultural reach, an alumnus of UoN, de la Crème intellect, accessing him would be walkover. We chased that walkover an entire year till angel Gabriel smiled.

And when we finally landed the meeting- I suppose he went through our missed calls that were choking his cell phone storage- A pile of Manyala were similarly waiting to gain access. Without appointment of course.

And for good measure due to catching up on good times between alumnus and rookies, what was supposed to be a forty fae minute meet spilled to an hour, then two. And though the time for officially coming in had passed, (statutory we were the last guests in) I realized Nyala were some of the craftiest beings on planet. The groups outside had managed to slither in and were deliberately rubbing on compartmentalized office to signal us that it was supper time in campus. They had also reinforced that with a mischievous prodding on the Personal Assistant about a supposed not soo amusing post that had emanated from within AUSA ranks on the performance of the MP. Either the PA was dump, or non-techy savvy. Because he came in fuming and could hence could not pronounce BUDAS well to Mheshimiwa. He incoherently blurted out something like “ evinte evya budabuda vino evya facebook” I am the only one who knew what he meant. The MP also seemed to be stashed with sagging itinerary to give much attention to gossip talk. The PA’s lamentations were brushed aside to his incensed disappointment. Though I highly suppose if the supposed accusation was real, I was guilty as charged and I would have cost AUSA 10K. I bet once I went into my usual tirades that unfortunately had touched skimpily on Mheshimiwa’s performance. And now the restless “voters” outside were using it as shit sling on us. But I bet it too was a moment changer for me. The MP on that note not being amused at the peddling of lies obtrusively referred to us AUSA, as also being peddlers of lies, and lamented the culture of stomping about half truths without facts being so much entrenched in the constituency. He took us through some of the laborious tasks of a legislator, and what he had managed to scrap despite a film breath time and hawk eye prone from fellow legislators eyeing the scanty budgetary votes. Then took us through the simple meteorological engineering that had failed to be executed by all previous leaderships, and how upon the ingenuity and concern of his tenure, talking of halting rain is both simplistic and smacking of intellectual limitedness. And I trust him. I hate techy stuff, but I could not fail to see the superb intelligence of training meanders that had been overlooked all through.

We came out with a 10K for reinforcing AUSA kitty, but then when i look back at it, i realize i wouldn't give a bugger my salary if i was the MP. Only CDF. That is what is theirs. If all those groups each went home with a similar amount, then i would be a sycophant. That money is untaxed.

We realized too, among the Nyala, story flows pretty fast. I gathered our entire sojourn at Continental house from the streets. The time we got in, the duration we stayed in, how we overstayed to anger of the waiting group, the much we were given. <grin><grin>. When we got out, eventually, the shifty cache waiting was going red with rage. “Abasoriri eng'we Muri nende chikura chinga?/ eeh!! eeeeeeeh!!” I scuttered into the washrooms to spill my splitting laughter into the bowls. “Mwakhalola Okoba, Okado, Alice, Obara, Muhuma Kharo Namwamba. Mudongisie wina???.. “I was afraid they were going to clobber us and take away the 10K, we scurried out. I could only manage a feeble back glimpse as my comrades sought to show me the central figure in the Hon’s campaign. The one who during the constituency go-rounds slung a battery loudspeaker on his shoulder volubly announcing “Omwana mraga mwene mwene mbao abira. Khumhubire Ikura mirimo mikari mno mno mbao kicha. Orie Mno Okhwerumbula……”.Politics looked at a very petty angle of the ballot you got. And that vote i assumed was the sole reason they could access the MP, not policy discussion or candid counsel on what the electorate on ground want done, since practically the MP cannot be in a position to amass ground intelligence, but rely on his trusted henchmen. But were they seeking his attention to do that?

I think i will delay my stab at parliamentary ambitions till all my constituents get empowered economically. Meanwhile I could contribute to policy suggestions towards that empowerment. But am scared too of what will be of me when i make it 33. I want to make national headlines, NOT SPOTTING HANDCUFFS, but making a keynote address with a galaxy of statesmen, business magnates, intelligentsia for audience, and my face protruding above a sea of microphones, swallowed in camera flashes.</grin></grin>