Ladies and gentlemen, as waited either to migrate to Canaan or to remain in Kenya I got a ‘eureka’ moment. According to a Greek by the name Archimedes, a eureka moment visits you when you discover that as you dive into a karai full of water some water takes refuge outside the karai. Of course I am talking about a senior karai that is also known as a bath tab.
If you don’t own a bath tab don’t worry because eureka moments can also visit you in the absence of water and bath tabs. An example will do: as Tinga promises to take you to Canaan and 16K Kenyans are busy wooing you to send them to the world of sitting, standing, walking and sleeping allowances a voice asks you, ‘Wizard, why are you not among those salivating to become waheshimiwa?’ Before you can tell the voice to shut up a tsunami of more troubling questions starts: Just how many times must you shout, ‘handkerchief mbao!’ to become a sonko? (I doubt one Waihenya Kihanya, he who lives in the world of figures, has an answer to that!) How long does it take an MCA to move from thousandaires to millionaires club? Why should a skinny fellow like God’s Property with XXX head use the staircase when there is a lift?
And so ladies and gentlemen, while you were arguing whether so-and-so is a horse, a donkey or a mule I was busy learning how to become a mhesh. Below is the plan that will transform me from Wizard the sufferer of Jah to Hon. Wizard.
I promise you that God will give me a call between now and 2022. And no, He won’t be notifying me of a golden mansion in His estate labelled ‘Vacant’, far from it. Instead, the giver of givers will be telling Wizard son of Mama Wizzy that he is the Moses charged with taking the dwellers of Mathare from the land of need and want to that of milk and honey. Unlike the poor old Moses, Wizard will carry a tough title, Honourable MCA, no less. I know that I will get that call sooner than later because if God had time and credit to call 16k Kenyans in 2017 adding Wizzy to the number in 2022 won’t be too much trouble.
I know a number of Mathare dwellers who are enemies to development. Some hate me simply because I am blessed with a brighter smile and a bigger CPU (read head). To correct this anomaly I will need to substitute the bad elements with the vast Nderi clan. All I need is a lorry and a clerk who is eager to register as many Homo sapiens as possible. Oti and Kisangau have agreed to ferry in all their relatives. For those expert voters who voted more than once in the nominations I am booking your services in advance. You are heroes in your own right since to political parties the words free, fair and transparent are mere decorations.
Naturally, Mathare dwellers will declare that there is no one else but Wizard son of Mama Wizzy. To demonstrate the fact to the world I will have to be kidnapped a few days to the nominations. Pictures of police getting their match in my supporters in running battles will air on all TV stations thereby adding more bonga points. I have spent several nights in the cold and adding a couple of days so that I can get Mathare sufferers to the land of milk and honey will be a small price to pay. What is two days in the bush when Museveni spent years in the forest?
To ensure that I hip and hop from one TV station to another for free publicity I need a special kind of wheels. And no, I am not talking about a Hummer or a fuel guzzler by any other name. I mean a humble vehicle like a camel or a donkey. It would add more bonga points should my wheels be a donation from a follower who believes that Mali ya Mungu is Moses and Joshua rolled into one. Since only a fool manufactures his bullets on the day of the battle I will acquire a baby donkey in preparation for the campaigns. If you own a baby donkey then you have a customer. Come the big day all I’ll need is a talented painter to brand my ‘wheels’. That will ensure a constant flow of interviews and viral pictures on Facebook and Twitter.
Ladies and gentlemen of Mathare, feel free to invite me to funeral arrangements, birthdays, weddings, pre-weddings, even harambees to go to the moon. In return I expect your presence in my goat eating come 2022. Just that we have an understanding, a goat eating is a gathering where visitors consume biscuits and juice in paper cups and thank their host for well fried goat steak. In return the visitors cough enough niadu to buy a herd of goats.
Before 2022 a member of the vast Nderi clan ought to open a polling firm. Their polls should be able to show that were the elections to be held any hour of day or night I would show my rivals some dust.
As regards my integrity, well, I am whiter than white. I have been involved in minor thefts, you know, a slice of bread here and a spoon of sugar there. The closest I have come to disturbing the peace is the day I called Kisangau Muikamba kivindu. Oti came to his rescue and he became Kavilondo. I am telling you these because I know that Kenyans never take angels seriously.
If I lose unfairly I’ll become an independent candidate. If I lose fairly I’ll still become an independent candidate. This is because the voter is like a girl whose ‘no’ is a misspelled and mispronounced ‘yes’. It only takes more money, more kneeling and begging to correct the mistake. And why the hell should I quit? It is neither gentlemanly nor womanly to bow out of the race even when all you have in the supporters department is your spouse. If they talk about horses and donkeys just become an ostrich. Better still you can become a cheetah.
Ladies and gentlemen, any helpful tips are welcome. Mathare people need me.