My name is Fisadi the son of Mbangaizaji. We’re holding general elections late this year. I have decided to start campaigning even if the electoral commission hasn’t declared an official date yet.
Given this is the season for ulaji through the ballot box, I’m prepared to serve you. Though I deserve no honour, I still want to be referred to as honorable Fisadi. No way can I let this chance slip by.
I’ve already put strategies in place. Firstly, I’ve already acquired seven college degrees from Nonexistent Commonwealth University, Hazard, and Eden-bug, Open University of the World (OUW), New York and Kuchonga University Bangalore, India.
I also have already talked to Gabacholi and Arab tycoons to sponsor my campaigns so that after I become an MP I will see to it that they invest in Bongolala. Given that I’m going to become a lawmaker, I’ll see to it that we enact favourable laws for them to be able to engage in the Capital Flight business comfortably.
To begin with, I’ll donate money to youth and women clubs and some schools in my constituency. My Dubai-based Arab nawab will pour money like crazy to bribe all members of the select committee at the tune of 500,000/- per head. I‘m sure they’ll swallow the bait without any question.
Note that I was never mentioned in the EPA, Richmond, Deep Green Finance, Meremeta, Kagoda and other vampire scams, even though I got some cut from them. Don’t tell anybody and when you read this, make sure you do it silently. My cut will be employed on bribing sippers and their wives who like free clothes like Khangas, T-shirts, BBQ and other nonsensical items. Mind you, I’m neither a shark nor a whale despite being a fisadi.
I’ve already gotten some Kanjanjas that will decorate my name in their newspapers. My slogan is: hither comes God-chosen saviour that will deliver sippers to Canaan in the country of barbeque and wine.
I’m a smart guy. Despite spending centuries without entering God’s buildings, I’ve already teamed up with some churches and mosques that will drum up and trumpet my great name of Hon. Fisadi Mbangaizaji PhD Phil, MA in lies and hypothetical thinking, BSc. Umbea, Dip in Corruption and mafia, Dip. (Mass mobilization), MBA ( Money making), etc, the MP for Tumboni Ulaji.
Only a few fellas have acquired my credentials. These include Ben Makapu and Joe Makamba. In Africa my peers are few and include Bob Mugabe, Jack Zuma, Yoweri M7, and Moi Kibaki.
You know what? My strategies are bigger than a mountain. My slogan is New Zeal, New Love (Zero) and New Big Things. Surely, sippers will believe in my make-believe stuff and vote for me to their own peril. To begin with, I’ll start sharing kanywaji with them. I’ll greet them by mentioning their names as I embrace each one of them to prove my love.
I’ll also make sure my VX becomes the new sipper’s town bus. It’ll take them wherever they like. My memsahib will form an NGO for the defence of their wives. She’ll fight to see to it that men do home chores such as floor mopping, nail doing and washing babies.
So too, I’ll form Mbangaizaji Anthropological Society of Thoughts (MAST) to defend all creatures including sharks and whales without forgetting albinos and the elderly.
I’ll raise money for supporting students and patients in the constituency. Hither, I’ll buy 500 mosquito nets and 200 desks to support uswekeni primary school and dispensary.
What’s more, I’ll buy some balls and uniforms of which I’ll wear one as I distribute the rest and play soccer with the youths I used to fear like HIV.
During this match, my ten thousand buck Rolex will be left home to avoid being snatched by these man-made petty robbers. I’ve already fixed the tribal elders. I’ll bribe their head. Wonder not when you see me in traditional regalia signifying being an elder of the tribe and a District Youth Commander of the party.
My mistress or Nyumbandogo, with whom I have a boy, will be bribed so that she keeps mum. That bastard I disowned will secretly become my darling baby.
To deal with her amicably, I’ll find an international school for her son. This will convince her that I’m preparing him to become a leader in the future. I’ll promise the hawara to send her son to London for advanced studies. Stupid farmers will be promised good prices for their produce. I’ll borrow a page from Mizengwe Pindu.
Like him, I’ll promise a tractor and hallow for every village. I’ll promise clean and safe water too. Hither is where my Dubai Arab comes in. To make off with their votes, I’ll invite students from Water Resource College to survey their projects.
Another strategy is defending the chair of our party for whatever nonsense he commits. To convince him of my allegiance, I’ve already threatened to sue whoever opposes him. In so doing, I tremble like a Maasai morani when offended. I swear by all gods real and fake.
Though many will think this is daydreaming, I’ll make it to the Bunge. Firstly, I’m beautiful like Njaa Kaya. And I’m just a boy of 65 years old who smiles even during funerals.
I’m God-chosen too. Thirdly, I have a command of sweet language on top of being a good performer. Fifth, I’m the man of the people. Don’t ask if there’s a man of hyenas.
Sixth, I’ve brought peace in many people’s pockets in my constituency.
For more strategies, let’s meet next time. So long from Tapeli, Uswekeni.