Diplomatic dispatch from the diaspora to Miguna Miguna

By Peter Kimani

I’m writing to commiserate with my comrade in struggle, Miguna Miguna. Like him, I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that Kenya has no place for its gifted sons, otherwise, I should at least have been made a diplomat, and this auspicious missive should have arrived in a diplomatic pouch as befits Miguna.

But thankfully, Miguna will empathise with me and receive this private missive in a public forum.  You know, the last time I heard of Miguna, to use his unique lingo, he was sitting preeety in his upmarket home of Runda, waiting for his book to be published, which he promised would be a volcano due to its volcanic power.

He did not disappoint, and his perambulations about the land have left in their wake what one might call seismic tensions on the face of the earth.

Because of the potent power of Peeling Back the Mask, his newly-released tome that is only be rivalled in popularity by the good old Bible, it simply boggles simple minds as they cannot comprehend the book.

So, unable to stop the book from gaining more popularity, the simple minds have attempted to stop Miguna in his tracks.

I have been watching videos on YouTube of hooligans descending on Miguna somewhere in Mombasa.

I could hardly recognise Miguna without his kofia, the mystique that I suspected he was born wearing, for I have never seen him without it.

I understand the hooligans  were singing Come, Baby Come when they unmasked him, and he decided to take instant flight, without one shoe.

Account for rot

There was this stout man wearing a green shirt with the word, Destroyer, emblazoned on the back. The Destroyer appeared to dance around Miguna, as though entranced by his power, while pulling a sling.

How does a man use an invention from Biblical times when mankind has advanced in technology and gone to the moon and back?

Anyway, I hear some detractors say Miguna’s kofia snatching was a literal unmasking as his pate, having suffered considerable hair loss due to years of hard thinking, shone so bright it could blind.

All I can tell my comrade in struggle is to take heart. Since nobody has disproved any account of the rot that he experienced first-hand in Tinga’s office, I am inclined to believe him.

Nobody has denied that maize was stolen and stuffed into gluttons’ bellies, nor that oil siphoned and gulped by the same chaps. I wonder how such characters survive stomach problems.

Well, even Miguna’s story of somebody whistling and waving like a pirate to catch the attention of a ferry coxswain in the seas, has not been challenged.

As a sojourner of truth, Miguna needs to be prepared to encounter Destroyer and his henchmen, but he should never waver, for he is on the right side of history by making selfless sacrifices for the common good.

Shoe missing

And if he ever needed a break, then this was the moment! Perhaps he should schedule another summer holiday in Canada before the season ends, or the school dorm is fully booked as students are in session.

But Miguna’s greatest success has been to disprove those that accused him of fleeing when others were fighting for democracy in this country. He is, evidently, the last man standing, even with a shoe missing.

Is there a better demonstration of one’s love for his or her country?

Please don’t try calling me, the subscriber cannot be reached

If you have tried to reach me by phone, and you received a recorded notification that mteja hapatikani (the subscriber cannot be reached), please know mteja is right here, waiting for T-Mobile to restore service in my neighbourhood.

I know it can be distressing to creditors – I was about to add, jilted lovers, and I remembered that could be problematic because what would be central to such an inquiry was when they were jilted – but it does create anxieties when a forwarding address does not seem to work. There is no network coverage in my hood.

Incidentally, the nearest T-Mobile store is barely 200 metres away from the house, but even such proximity does not help.

Well, it does when I visit T-Mobile store as the phone works there. But out of their precincts, the phone gives that ominous tu-ru-ri thing. The network has simply disappeared in thin air, although the phone does work in select parts of Houston.

Even more punishing, phone subscriptions here are paid per month, so I have lost a whole week of service paid for but not rendered.

You might be wondering why I have not switched to another service provider. It’s because the amount of vetting required is like buying a house, and, in any case, America has become such a jua kali (informal) place, pun intended, that it is prudent to have little or no expectations at all that other service providers will be any different. This is the empirical evidence of an empire in decline.

Jasiri’ may be eight years late, but let’s be sure it docked in Kenya

Now that Jasiri, the warship that we were zungushwad (conned) about has arrived on our shores, reaffirms the virtue of waiting.

A word of caution, though. Jasiri docked in our territorial waters in the Indian Ocean, but some chaps insist that part of the Coast is not Kenya.

So we may need to confirm everything, lest we are hoodwinked into celebrating the arrival of a foreign ship on our shores.

I hear some killjoy think its arrival is somewhat suspect because Mombasa is going through what PR specialists call “a good day to bury bad news.”

That means leaking to the public unflattering information when public attention is diverted to other pressing news. This week, Mombasa has been consumed by the news of the murder of Muslim cleric Rogo and its aftermath. Some say Jasiri could simply be trying to live up to its name, which means being stoic.

Or could it be that, as some are speculating, someone is cleverer than that, and is setting the ground for another scheme under which to escape future scrutiny. What better mitigation than to say given the tense circumstances of Jasiri’s delivery, our technical experts were not deployed to verify manufacturers’ specifications.