London’s burning as Kenyans laughing

By Ibrahim Ndamwe

He was propped up on the sofa, his feet on the coffee table, a mug of hot chocolate in hand, mulling over the shilling’s free fall when an aide tiptoed to his side. "Eh, mutongoria, sorry, sir, but you have a phone call. He says it’s urgent – something about a riot in East London..."

The old man smirked and lifted his eyes reluctantly from his grandson’s drawing of a pink elephant.

"Very naughty, this people. Who would nickname some part of Dandora, ‘East London?’

The aide shifted nervously on one foot.

"Sorry, sir, but it’s not..." he began before he was cut off by the big man.

"Why is Iteere calling me? Tell him to discuss it with Ojode or Saitoti."

The aide shifted some more. "Eh, it’s not Iteere calling, sir. It’s Cameron, James Cameron and the riots are in East London – Britain."

"Oh! I see! And why didn’t you say that? Give me the phone... Hello, James – long time old chap. How is the missus? I have been meaning to drop by a for a short State visit but am overwhelmed – too much road construction going on here and all manner of reforms.

English tea

But that’s not an excuse for you not to bring Mrs Cameron and the children over for a bit of sunshine. They would love fooling around the Mara, am sure. It’s a bit chilly here, though, but nothing a hot cup of English tea from Kericho can’t heal. Haa haa haa! Oh, yes!"

His practiced ear, however, told him the young man on the other end of the line was impatient, nervous even.

"Yes. Yeah. What? No, no, no! GSU? No, hakuna haja! These boys are no joke and frankly, I don’t think your problems are that serious, yet. Have they torched any churches, uprooted railway lines or blocked school children from going to school?

"Any rapes or murders, corpses on the highway? Are the Irish clobbering the Scots, crazed gangs armed with crude weapons prowling streets and screaming, ‘Cameron must go!’?

"No-o! Don’t panic! Okay, let’s do this – if things are still elephant tomorrow, send me a telex. Yes, I have to make it formal – damn this new Constitution. Am sure my man at Vigilance House can arrange a platoon or two but then you might also need Dr Alfred Mutua to smoothen out things with the media. Jolly good chap, that boy. Don’t worry about Obama – I will speak with his grandma. Don’t mention it. What are friends for?"

For a moment, he was tempted to call Mzee Daniel Arap Moi and share the joke then he remembered he had work to do.

"Hey, ask Saitoti to telephone our man in London and instruct him to issue a travel advisory immediately. There is no need to create one – he can cut and paste the very same ones the Britsh issue whenever there is a tyre burst in Kayole."