14 Now the spirit of the LORD had departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the LORD tormented him… 23 Whenever the spirit from God came upon Saul, David would take his harp and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him. 1 Samuel 16:14, 23
The Baganda believed the afterbirth and umbilical cord to be a sort of second child, the double or twin of its owner: it was carefully preserved by the mother, because the health and welfare of the living child, were thought to be closely bound up with those of the double. The twin was even given a name by its owner… At every new moon, the cord was presented to the Kabaka by its Guardian and given due reverence by the Kabaka himself and the assembled courtiers. An entry in the Rubaga Mission Diary for 25 July 1880 describes the scene on one such occasion: `His umbilical cord is presented to Mutesa. He rises from his seat to touch the precious talisman solemnly with his royal hand. All the assistants rise: those with swords unsheathe them and brandish them, and the soldiers present arms.’ J. F. Faupel, 1962African Holocaust: The Story of the Uganda Martyrs, Page 15Revised Edition, 2007Paulines Publications Africa
In spite of the above, the year 2007, ended up being very stressful to me, both at work and in the social front, meaning that minimal emotional and intellectual resources were set aside for creative endeavours. A vicious circle of turmoil began in me. I was restless because I was not writing, and this in turn resulted in more stress and blood pressure related problems. I desperately needed the stimulation that results in oneself when, in the middle of night slumber, one suddenly wakes as an idea, often as a follow-up to a dream, demands to be instantly committed to paper. By the third quarter of the year, it occurred to me that I was on verge of creative decay and ultimate death, if my muse could not inspire me with a gust of germinal ideas to spur my rejuvenation. As my good friend Elisha Wandera, who `in his wisdom, or in total lack of it’, would continue to mockingly jab at me, wondering aloud at every opportune moment, where my flame and flair had gone. I was in poor shape, and envied my colleagues, such as Kap, who were far much busier than I, and yet who weekly found the energy to pen an excellent newspaper column.
Friends, when min Omolo kaNyunya’ comes by, you will have no doubt that she has come, and that you have really no option, but to also come (forgive the unintended pun). I responded by sending an urgent enquiry to my associates in our outfit known as ProPerArt Creations. And they responded; oh, they surely did respond! All the way from Martyn in New Zealand, to Kap in the US; from Caroline and others, in Kenya, to Kwame in Zanzibar, and from many, many more. They rekindled my spirit, and reaffirmed their confidence in my ability to deliver; but also went further, by suggesting this and that, and thus making valuable contributions to the story.
And it is them that I wish to acknowledge their input into this creative work of fiction. But, in the same breathe; I wish to absolve them of any blame in the quality of the work, and confrm to the wider readership that characters and events portrayed here have no association with the living
Then, as it often happens when you are feeling rather contented and too sure of your self, it happened in the evening of 11th December, 2007, as we enjoyed `macho mbili mbili’ at the recently opened Wasaanii Bar at the Kenya National Theatre (KNT), a bombshell from Uganda descended.
John Ruganda (JR) was no more, having been promoted to the higher state of being, on the 8th December, 2007, to meet with others of his like and miter, literary gurus, who had gone ahead. In a review in The EastAfrican (Dec 31, 2007-Jan 6, 2008), Professor Chris Wanjala describes Ruganda as `the best playwright in English from East Africa’
Those of us, who were fortunate to have been mentored by JR in his school of dramatic style of writing and performance, felt that insecure feeling of sudden abandonment. A flurry of Ideas followed on how best we should contribute to paying tribute and to immortalizing the literary achievements of this fallen hero.
And thus, in the ensuing early mornings of December, when `min Omolo kaNyunya’ was most kind and at ease to insist on callingme, I felt the urgency to complete this dramatic piece. Feverishly, I milked the on flush of conflicting thoughts and ideas that surged into my mind, and hammered away at my laptop, penning down my contribution.
More meat followed with the national elections held on 27th December, 2007, especially the electrifying and emotional stand-off at the Kenyatta International Conference Centre (KICC) on 29th-30th, as the Electoral Commission of Kenya (ECK) attempted to deliver a contested verdict on the outcome of the polls.
Forced to work indoors, in the ensuing days, as the nation underwent went through pangs of pain in delivering the fourth republic, I found time to finalize aspects of this drama, as I also struggled to comprehend how a popular government that was voted with an overwhelming majority some five years before, had been reduced to a pathetic shameful shell of itself, its leadership depending on propping-up by the very oppressive agents of the state that they had so much struggled against.
Sadly, the ogre is back. Fast forward to July 2016. Just five years after independence, and less than one year after a peace agreement was signed, a phase of a third South Sudanese civil war seems to have begun. Clémence Pinaud, an Assistant Professor at Indiana University’s Department of International Studies reports that `As heavy fighting has erupted in the capital Juba over the past few days, leading to hundreds of deaths and the suggestion that South Sudan is “back to war”. Figures of up to 300 plus are being reported. More senseless killings as the Chinese are lining to invest in this resource-rich land that the mighty Nile traverses. Philip my son is in Juba, having traveled there barely 3 months back to seek greener professional pastures. Reminds me of the lines from the epic 1959 movie Ben-Hur, directed by William Wyler. After the epic chariot race, Messala, horribly mangled, waits for Judah to come. Judah (Charleton Heston) arrives, thinking vengeance over and the great conflict in his life is at an end, but discovers from dying Messala that “the race is not over; It goes on” as Judah learns his mother and sister are “…in the Valley of the Lepers if you can recognize them.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSMfdKMZfiEBut, I guess, we can only take solace in what they have been saying to us: `How much longer will Africa bleed? Poor Africa. Poor Africans (Sunday Nation, June 5th, 1994).
The forthcoming elections (2017) were already generating more negative than positive energies. Positive in the sense that a number of institutions and reforms instituted after the 2007/2008 post-election violence are assisting in ensuring the election process is conducted on a more fair platform. However, some of the institutions that were established have already been badly compromised and have their own structural and functional weaknesses. A case in point is the electoral body (IEBC) and the national cohesion Committee (NCEC). There is also a tremendous explosion in the use of mobile phones and the use of social media. In addition more and more reliance on opinion polling is the order of the day in Kenya. In an interesting article in the Sunday Nation of September 4tth, 2016 (page 24), Oxford University’s Nic Cheeseman writes about `Why African Opinion Polls are Important’. Decrying the lack of funding for Afrobarometer, he says:`The rise of opinion polling across the continent combined with the introduction of multiparty politics means that leaders are now less able to ignore the hopes and desires of their electorates.’
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DEDICATION
This creative work was synthesized and developed while in the process of taking a short deserved rest from my daily scientific drudgery in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia (kia minoga, as the national patriarch would have rightly observed). Getachew provided the needed framework for reflection, by his incessant impromptu visits to delightful restaurants, to savor Makiato. This dramatic piece is dedicated to a man, who is now considered an institution worthy of mention as a national heritage, who at the time of writing, had spend some five months confined to his bed at the orthopedic wad of the ever busy Kenyatta National Hospital. His ever-bright face, in the midst of excruciating pain he felt, his wit, charm and mental alertness, his capacity to grow even larger and ability to reach out to others, strengthening them with an infectious enthusiasm for life, will live with me for the rest of this earthly journey. So join me in clasping hands and through the union of our minds, release bounds of restorative energies to him, wishing our friend a speedy Godsend recovery and the blessings of the Almighty’s gracious mercies. And hence it is to: ST Emmoyitte Opoti
HOW DID WE GET INTO THIS RATHER PATHETIC SITUATION?
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The year is current, at the end of a two five-year constitutional term of the government. President To-Yoma has declared his intention to run for a further third term. The country’s populace, who are of voting age are nervy with that prospect and the country is ignited with shouts of `No third-term’. The politicians are caught up in a mileau of uncertainity, not quite sure where they stand as they seek mandate from the people they represent, kneeling before them as a servant to a master, cunningly asking them to vote for them as individual members of Parliament, and letting their conscious lead them in electing their president. With this background, the year’s wananchi-driven evaluation and auditing of their leaders, through the ballot, will definitey be slaughter. The vultures are circling, and it seems not many of the sitting MPs, who participated in legitimizing the President’s third-term bid, will anwere for their ation, and will not be relected back to that august house.
These are also confusing times, bought about by the expansion of democratic space. Numerous people have jumped ship and are contesting in the geneal elections, some well known, others rather sketchily, some of high moral character, while the others… well lets just say, rather dubious. Politicians have formed party after party, jumped from this to that party, cooperated, collaborated, divorced and eve re-married. After all, it is said that politicians have no permanent enemies or friends. Since election is a big money guzzler, money has been poured, the wise have eaten and will now tell us that they willl vote wisely! We will see.
The government’s soup is on fire. A relied upon insider implodes, and decides to reveal the of dirty underwear-washing that goes on within the corridors of power. Real sordid stuff, that a distinguished diplomat refered to as ` their gluttony causes them to vomit all over our shoes’. The result of this expose is massive indigestion in government, leading to erosion of pulic confidence and a beginining of a dizzy downward spiral. However, things are elephant as my friends tell me. The good intentioned diplomat well observed `The old dragon has turned on its tormentors just as used to happen in the previous regime: veiled threats at the media, who should behave ‘responsibly’; real red-blooded threats to fix, nobble or even damage those who want to investigate the corrupters; statements whitewashing in a pedantic, lawyerly way those who were not involved in one deal when investigations… And at the same time, the corrupt are still cutting deals like there was no tomorrow.’
President To-Yoma seemed such a sensible chap, whom all could rely on to steer the country through turbulent times. But is he himself? We are told of his beloved half brother, Atashili. A most loyal comrade-at-arms who went missing a decade ago, just days to the the triumphant march of the nationalistic army into the city, driving the dictatorial regime from power. Where did Atashili go t? Is he alive? His absence is personal anguish and a source of daily torment to this great leader.
Enter a new destabilizing agent. A pack of modern pollsters replace the more reliable forecasting system perfected by our palm-reading seers who used to confirm their findings by gazing uwpwards to read the writings of celestial bodies. Occasionally, they would prescribe a concoction or a talisman to wear against malicious and intended acts which may result in the termination of your longevity. Maddo humorously alluded to such a contraption prescribed by a sangoma (see Standard, 22nd December, 2007) on an anti-helicopter crash talisman fitted close to your torso!
The Johnnie-come-lately pollsters attempt to predict the election outcome by gauging the public position based on the current going on. Well, their methods do sound rather scientific; I mean the use of statistical methods and the use of special computer programs to analyze their results. But Kundosia is not convinced. `Bloody imposing crocodiles!’ They masquerade by some sexy and fanciful names such as Strategic Positioning, Data Determiners, and, ah yes, the mother of them all; Steadypolls. Who imported this madness from USA or Europe or wherever these weirdoes are invented? This time around they seem to have an agenda beyond providing information. They are so determined to influence our minds and drive our thinking. Do they have a handler or a `his masters voice’ that they listen to? So effective have they become in shaping our forward-thinking, that every Friday afternoon, they summon us good folk to the National Press Centre to be told of their dramatic findings, based on what they call a national sampling plan. Do they think we don’t know their tricks? They have planted women and men all over the country. On cue and at an agreed time and date, they call these `ground-truthers’ to report on the ground position. Is it To-Yoma or Modane, who is in the lead? Faithfully, and based on some orchestrated script, they regurgitate their findings. Volatile stuff is unleashed to a gullible public, causing untold woes to the candidates, symptomized by running stomachs, sleepless nights, and fiery tempers. The pollsters have become the new political grandmasters of today.
It is therefore not much of a surprise to you, that the results from the just concluded polls do not favour the ruling party. Since the elections are to be held within the next two weeks, means that President To-Yoma is getting rather edgy. Now, it is certainly not very good for you, especially as a party stalwart, when your party leader is edgy. You also find yourself getting frantic. Over the last two weeks or so, To-Yoma has fired a number of his top campaign managers. His mood is foul. He begins to breathe fire on Kundosia. After all, the creation of the Party’s Election Board (PEB) was to ensure that the election process is manipulated to his favour. He is not sure any more that PEB will be able to deliver and is really considering sacking this over-bloated toad-like creature known as Kundosia-Ndosia. To-Yoma does not waste an opportunity to tell him as much. Since the President is getting more and more paranoid with each passing day, the waning popularity as indicated by the polls must be fought with whatever it takes. Question: What?
An idea arrives. What Bishop would see as Special God-Made-Hot-Miracle: Designed in Heaven, for Consumption on Earth. The Project
It seems to be such a wonderfully good idea, that I wonder why I hadn’t thought of it before! The President is hopeful, but doubtful… The bamboocha of a woman called Paxcedes sniffs and does not liking the smell of it. Luckily, within the corridors of the powerhouse are many handlers who can be relied upon to see what others may not see, and therefore steer events in the desired direction, reminding To-Yoma, that a ` a good idea gives way to an even better idea…’
And so he barks¾ or rather, nods. The project is given top government security clearance and, hence, its all systems go. The project is soon to be unleashed to an unsuspecting public.
Well, well, well! Things have a knack of not quite working the way one desires, na hata wewe unajua hivyo!
In their haste, they open gaping manholes, dig trenches and ignite fires. The deal is done just as the latest polls deliver on their plan with a finality of a hanging judge. A measly 10% for To-Yoma as public confidence in him and his ruling party stumbles and falls like stocks gone stale.
What does one do? Wajameni, What does one do, especially when the elections are just round the corner in three days time? What can one do? Can the Bishop intercede for us, and deliver another miracle?
Well, what do they say…? It is only a sinking man that can see God! And he does. Oh, yes, he surely does. Atashili returns, tongueless. But in his muteness is a deafening sound that recounts a story so wretched, that the earth hungs in shame.
Masita, a brilliant journalist, is firmly on the spot, probing, observing and anchring the events as they unfold, for us, and for the benefit of posterity, lest we once again are tempted to forget.We do not know this man and what he is capable of. What would stop him from running in 2012 for instance? After all, Jomo Kenyatta did 15 years, and Daniel arap Moi 24. Why should he do 10 years only? OpinionMutahi NgunyiSunday Nation, page 16
June 22, 2008
`The truth is that there was a deal in Libya last year when they were desperate for money for the election campaigns. They needed the money to win. The money they got is the difference between the actual price paid by Libya and the official selling price of the Grand Regency”
Nairobi Star,
Page 1
Wednesday July 2, 2008
THE MOOD
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The mood of this play refects the layback attitude to work commonly found in most public offices. Hence, sound effects that wil help establish such a mood could be considered. The play is constructed to shift between three distinct areas; reception, office and lounge. The use of lights must therefore be selective, highlighting only the areas that the drama has moved into. Appropriate music that would augument and connect the action as the play shifts from area to area would be desirable. A popular modern hit, such as Nyota Ndogo’s song Watu na Viatu (nyotandogo.blogspot.com), would be an ideal choice, fading in and out as the action shifts from one room to the other. Especially recommended is the song’s refrain:
Oh, kuna watu na viatu, duniani Oh, there are people and there are shoes, in this world
Oh, kuna watu wasiopenda maendeleo Oh, there are people who do not appreciate development
Oh, ukiwa nacho, inawauma ndani kwa ndani Oh, if you have something, it pains them deep in themselves
Ah, wachana nao, waepuke haraka sana Ah, leave them alone, avoid them at all costs
©ProPerArt Creations (2008-2016) JPR’s Master, Speak! O Speak to me!
SEARCHING FOR HIS MASTER’S VOICE
PROJECTED ON A WIDE SCREEN IS A SHORT CINEMATIC FILM, SHOT IN BLACK AND WHITE. TH BRIEF EPISODE IS SOMBER, SURREALISTIC AND CRYPTIC, MADE EVEN MORE DRAMATIC BY THE SLOW PACE, DREAMLIKE MOVEMENT OF THE CHARACTERS.
A CEREMONIAL DIAS, COMPLETE WITH GRECIAN PILLARS, AND ERECTED AS IF FOR A STATE FUNCTION.
IN AN ENTOURAGE, ENTER BISHOP BEARING ON HIS SHOULDERS A CEREMONIAL MACE. HE IS FOLLOWED BY A DARKLY ROBED TO-YOMA. AT THE REAR, COMES BETTY CARRYING A LARGE LIT CANDLE VERY MUCH LIKE THOSE USED IN CHURCHES.
BISHOP USHERS TO-YOMA ONTO THE DIAS. BISHOP AND BETTY TAKE THEIR PLACES, FLANKING THE SEATED TO-YOMA. TO-YOMA IS CLEARLY TORMENTED AND IN AN EXPLOSIVE FIT OF FURY.
ENTER A SUPPLIANT HANDCUFFED KUNDOSIA, SLAVE DRIVENOBVIOUSLY FRIGHTENED AND AT WITS, END BUT CLEARLY DRIVEN BY PRESSING NEEDS, HE KNEELS AT THE FOOT OF TO-YOMA, TO PLEAD HIS CASE. IN GROSS DISGUST, TO-YOMA, USING HIS FOOT, SHOVES KUNDOSIA AWAY. ON BISHOP’S URGING, BETTY HURRIES OUT TO RETURN BEARING A WRAPPED BLOODY BUNDLE, WHICH SHE UNWRAPS, AND PRESENTS TO TO-YOMA. IN ATONISHING FONDNESS, TO-YOMA RECEIVES THE BUNDLE, SMOOTHERING IT WITH LOVING KISSES. THIS REJUVENATES HIM AND IT IS THE CALMER TO-YOMA WHO LISTENS, WITH SOME PATIENCE, TO A RENEWED PLEA BY KUNDOSIA.
DRUMS SOUND THE FIRST LINE OF WHAT IS ALMOST THE NATIONAL ANTHEM. BISHOP INDICATES TO THE AUDIENCE TO RISE. THEN, STEPPING FORTH, BISHOP’S BELLOWS ALOUD, HIS VOICE RESONATING DEEPLY, IN A POWERFUL PAVAROTTI-LIKE TENOR, HEARTILY SINGING THE FIRST STANZA OF THAT GREAT HYMNAL:
Master Speak! Thy Servant Heareth,
Longing for Thy gracious word,
Longing for Thy voice that cheereth;
Master, let it now be heard.
I am listening, Lord, for Thee;
What hast Thou to say to me?
Frances Ridley Haverga,
No. 386, Songs of Fellowship, Words Edition
1991, Kingsway Music Ltd, Eastbourne, Sussex, UK
BLACKOUT