Chairman: I hereby declare the
meeting opened.
MuDidymus: Wait.
Chairman: What for?
MuDidymus: Wait for Rob. You know
him. If we start without him, kanoita
pamuromo. Talks too much.
Chairman: He’s late. (looking at his watch, the Rolex he got as a
bribe by a hotel company while still Tourism Minister)
Fat Obert: But why is this old
man always late bakithi? We have things to do.
Ignatius wemaStands: Ehe. Some of
us have things to do?
Le Crocodile: Like what?
Ignatius wemaStands: You know,
looting etc, the usual stuff.
Fat Obert: I bet you can’t loot
like me.
Ignatius wemaStands: I bet I can. I
will give you my $80-million airport road for your little $10-million Chiadzwa
bribe. Beat that.
Fat Obert: Oh yeah? Well, what if
tell you that $10-million was from one company. There’ve been 12 licenses. Do
the maths, Gina.
(At which point, the situation deteriorates, with others joining in.
Webster over there with his secret ZBC loans, MuDidymus over here with his 67
farms, others with tales of stolen diamonds, stolen food, zvikwambo and so
forth. All chaotic, really!)
Fat Obert: This old man needs to
shape up. He can’t be keeping us here like this. Bullshit. Who the hell does he
think he is? Nonsense.
(At that point, Rob the boss walks in)
Fat Obert: Your
Excellency! My dear father! Me, your ever obedient son, I was getting worried
that some horrific misfortune had befallen your wondrous self. Oh, the sight of
you warms my large rectum. Even men with no arms applaud your magnificence. Oh
my dear fath…
Rob: (Interrupting)… Ok, ok, Obby, that’s
enough for the day.
(The others rise and
sing a song in Rob’s praise – some song about a mighty slayer of imperialists,
giver of farms, producer of milk etc)
Chairman: May I
now call this meeting to order. We have no idea why we have been called. That’s
not a problem, because we need not think too much. In fact, we need not think
at all. His Excellency, in his abundant geniusness, does that for us. Over to
you, Your Eminently Eminent Eminence.
Rob: (after a long pause – in which he adjusts his
glasses, claps, rocks in his chair, generally pausing for effect while surveying
the effect the senseless suspense is having on his henchmen) Well. (claps hands again). I guess all of you
came here wondering what I, your leader, called you in for.
All: Yes, yes! Speak
to us, Your Excellently Excellent Excellency!
Rob: Well. All
this corruption and faction stuff. Madam Spillblood over there, she got her
fairly large knickers in a twist over this. Now, the question is, who here is
corrupt?
(across the room,
people stare at each other, confused)
MuDidymus: (whispering). Eh, Your Graciously
Gacious Graciousness, is this a trick question?
Rob: No. Why?
MuDidymus:
Because, Almighty Thundering Conqueror, you are asking if any of us is corrupt.
Rob: Yah. So?
MuDidymus: Ah, My
Lordship, I think you meant to ask who among us is NOT corrupt.
Rob: (after thinking about it for a bit). Good
point, Dhidhidhi, good point. Anyway, so, who here is NOT corrupt?
(Long pause. Then, at
the back of the room, a hand goes up).
Rob: What is it, Jono?
Are you not corrupt?
Jonnie the Prof:
You mean am I corrupt, Sire?
Rob: OK, are you
NOT corrupt?
Jonnie the Prof: Am
I corrupt, or am I not corrupt? What is your actual question? Ask a good question,
get a good answer. You don’t need a rocket scientist to…
Rob: (Interrupts, annoyed) Oh forget it. Goddam
fake intellectuals. Anyway, I said I want to know if anyone here is not
corrupt.
All: (in chorus) NO, SIR, ALL OF US ARE DIRTY
GREEDY ROTTEN BASTARDS! Sir.
Rob: Nice. So,
you tell me (banging desk, but avoiding
hurting himself) Who the hell has been going to the papers with all this
corruption bullshit? As if corruption is suddenly illegal in this country.
Who?!
(All eyes turn to the
back of the room)
Jonnie the Prof:
What?
Rob: Madam
Spillblood here says you leaked the whole thing.
Jonnie the Prof: But
who takes her seriously?
(at which point, Madam
Spillblood leaps up angrily and sits on Jonnie the Prof’s face and Rob laughs until
he has a mild heart attack and his special medics are called but they get stuck
in traffic coz lights aren’t working and there's a huge hole from a pipe burst on the appropriately named Rotten Row which the city council can't fix because they had no money left after paying council chefs' salaries at which point Ignatius
wemaStands is asked to explain himself but he’s
on the phone to some poor guy who is refusing to hand over his stand and Ignatius
is threatening to have him thrown in fucking boiling oil and Fat Obert is
on the phone asking Zinara if they have finished building the road to his house
in Umguza and all this while MuDidymus is up now spraying some mysterious juju liquid
all over everyone and mumbling some scary vadzimu shit …all chaotic really.
This shit goes on for, like, hours, man. Hours.)
Rob: I’m OK. I’m
OK. Madam Spillblood, get off the boy. Jono, get up from under
there. Stand in the corner. Where was I?
Fat Obert: My father, you
were asking who told the media we are thieves, as if it has suddenly become a
crime in this country
Rob: Shut up Obert.
So who told the media we are thieves, as if it has suddenly become a crime in
this country?
The Spokesman: The
press is waiting outside, My Lord. What lies should I tell them? It is midnight
and so they’re obviously thinking we must be doing something important, whereas
we are up to our usual nonsense.
Madam Spillblood:
(Regaining her composure) Tell them
nothing.
Le Crocodile: I
agree.
Madam Spillblood:
Pfutseke. Stop agreeing with me.
Rob: Tell them
this - the politburo was discussing economic issues up to midnight. Salaries,
the liquidity crisis, jobs, water, ZESA, roads, crops, hospitals and all that other
nonsense people complain about for some reason. Then … (Rob pauses for effect, like a comedian about to unleash a killer
punchline) … Tell them this; We are even going to arrest people for
corruption.
All chefs: (loud laughter from everybody – fat men and women rolling in the floor with
laughter) That’s a good one, Your Bright and Shining Eminence; that’s a
good one. You have the funniest jokes. You are the funniest president.
Bwahahaha. The economy?? Workers? Arrest people for corruption?! Bwahaha.
Genius!
Chairman: Meeting
dismissed.
And not a single fuck was given that day.
