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A little girl and the president

By stephen kinyanjui | January 14th 2017
The naivety of voters in discounting the imperfection of a rich man for president is now unfolding; capitalist bigwigs have held Kenyans hostage since independence.

The scion of Kenya’s First Family is now in power, and you can imagine the sparkling conversation at the dinner table in the course of dissecting succulent portions of the flagging economy.

Here cometh a lofty gentleman with X-ray eyes and elephant ears, immaculate in a made-to-measure suit and exhibiting a pricey wristwatch.

His stately pace of walking and the prime expressiveness of his tongue betray noble extractions. First impressions count; doubtlessly, the preferable occupation for such a first-rate fellow must be the presidency.

“Mr. President, why are you so tall?” a pesky little girl confronts the most powerful man in Kenya, looking up at him with begging eyes. She has evaded the hawkish security detail during a public function and is cozying up to the president.

“So that I can protect my citizens from all kind of harm, inside and outside our country,” he answers, before bursting into a good-natured chuckle.

“Mr. President, your eyes are so big and red; why?”

“It’s because, as president, I need to have a clear vision of everything, and anything, happening on the ground. As well as to see ahead and deal with problems before they occur.”

“Mr. President, your ears! Huge!” she persists in merriment, folding her tiny arms and shrugging the shoulders.

“But I need to listen to everyone who interacts with me and my government, including you, dearest. Everyone: rich or poor, powerful or humble, young or old…” he remarks in a defensive stance.

“You have a lovely voice, Mr. President!”

“That’s because I have to talk to my people in Kenya and to other important people around the world.” he replied in a self-conscious manner.

“Mr. President, my father owns only one suit, and it’s really old –

“My darling and most adorable little one,” he said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Yes; Mr. President?”

“Do you know why I wear this watch?” he asked with a tinge of exasperation. He swept her off the ground rather crudely and lifted her till they were face-to-face. “I don’t have all the time to deliver my promises to the people of Kenya, including your father who wants a new suit. Damn it! It’s less than a year to the next election!”

“My father says he will not vote for you again. He told mama,” she concluded in a tone of pride and defiance found in young children of a certain age. The president’s aides yanked her away and guided her back to the crowd.
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