Rising political heat forces Harold to change strategy

Political temperatures have started to rise, meeting halfway with the weather, whose temperatures are plummeting. This has left all of us in Gitegi in an uncertain world that is an experience of Greenland with a touch of Kenya’s political shenanigans. 

Politicians are now giving handouts in the hopes that the electorate will ‘remember them’ when the general election come next year and vote in whoever gave back a bigger portion of monies looted from the public.

And Harold being, well, Harold, he will be vying for every available seat in Gitegi, and has appointed yours truly to help him in his bid.

However, since Ndumia and Harold developed an unlikely bromance after years of being rivals at Harold Assembly of Holy Associates (HAHA) church, Sue decamped to start her own party.

Some claim that the fallout was brought about by Harold’s unwillingness to spend money on Sue, ghosting her when she needed him most.

In the June mist when Safari Rally united party animals in Naivasha, she took her revenge, hiring a Subaru owner to take her to Naivasha for her share of deeds that are masked in mystery and suspicion.

If things remain as they are, this will be the first election with Harold and Sue on opposing sides. Sue will be banking on drunkards who frequent the drinking den, while Harold will be counting on churchgoers.

But this is difficult Maths to compute; the same people who patronise the pub are the ones who dip semi-generous hands into Harold’s offertory bags every Sunday. Even Harold himself is a regular visitor at Sue’s.

Sue, who pretty much takes sides with the weather, has been cold towards Harold. She is now seen as unreliable by my uncle Harold, who himself will never rank high on the reliability scale.

On a rainy day, Sue is not the person to run to, especially as she will rain insults on you, Harold warns.

But Harold needs Sue if he is to win anything in next year’s elections. 

With the Prayer Payment Initiative (PPI), which Harold formed and expected to use as a vehicle for collecting funds for his reelection, now trashed, it is important for him to have someone who can help fund his bid.

As will happen in the country, old foes are about to meet in backrooms and, over shots of tequila and drunken giggles, shake hands and form unions. It is also likely that bosom buddies will muddy each other in public because as the all-important day nears, the stomach becomes the most important factor for aspirants to consider.

But then no one goes to the public to tell them things like, “vote for me for it is my time to eat” or “my tummy cannot sit well unless I am eating from a big spoon”. Instead, Harold and co will look for speechwriters such as myself, and advisers such as myself again, who will help them write down and say exactly what the masses want to hear.

“I will make the TV watching free of charge”. “I will pay for your drinks once every two months, or increase alcohol content in the church wine”. “I will form the Ministry of Sunshine so we will never have this much cold ever again. If the minister allows the cold in, I will fire him!”

It is the poetry that helps Harold win over supporters. Only I do not know whether they fall in love with this witticism or they are just afraid of not voting him in lest he makes the village unlivable with his tantrums.

And so my delegation will be meeting Sue, hoping to make her part and parcel of Harold’s campaign. For someone who himself depends on handouts from Harold and who is perennially threatened when he shows hesitancy to embarking on tasks that he gives, I will not risk going hungry especially at a time when the cold weather threatens to immobilise me. My people, as politicians say, the stomach is the best child.  

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