Hitting Budapest Reloaded

Hitting Budapest Reloaded.

We are on our way back from Budapest. Back from posing for photos and saying cheese a million times although we didn’t eat a pinch of it, back from insulting the photographer woman because she even threw away the thing we wanted to eat, back from stealing and eating guavas and having a shit or rather, shits. Back from stumbling upon a dead woman dangling from a rope. And we stole her new pair of shoes. No, we took her shoes instead because it’s not ‘stealing’ stealing; she’s dead! It’s different from stealing guavas. We sold them and bought bread which we are eating on our way back to Paradise. I’m thinking about how her ghost will haunt us at night and kill all of us. God please forgive us, don’t let her ghost haunt us, it was Bastard’s idea not mine. “You, Big head what are you thinking about?” Bastard asks as if reading my thoughts. He is chewing the bread with such gusto and opening his mouth annoyingly wide like a dinosaur with every bite and chew like he’d never eaten delicious bread before. “Nothing,” I say, biting my own piece with relish, it tastes good, crispy and crunchy. One day, I will punch this bastard called Bastard to death. Why is he calling me big head?

We walk pass Mother of Bones who smiles at us. She’s always smiling at us, in fact she smiles at anything. Her teeth are brownish yellow and scanty like trees in the Savannah of northern Cameroon. Needless to say, they are very ugly, probably due to her obsessive, excessive tobacco chewing. Godknows waves at her and asks, “Caring Mother, how are you?” like she wants to flatter her so she’ll not talk about our absence. She grins harder exposing the horrible dental formula and I look away as we walk pass silently sneaking into Paradise. And then for a split second, we hear a commanding hoarse voice, “Hey, all of you come here!” We freeze dead in our tracks. We can tell by the man’s dangerous voice that we are all going to run. All of a sudden, Stina squints and screams, “Run!” When Stina speaks, we listen because she never speaks at all; only when it is necessary. And my friends take off in diverse directions like houseflies take off from excrement when someone throws a small stone at it. But I cannot run because I recognize the voice instantly –my father’s. Even if I run, I would still come back home. He’s standing upright and holding a cane in his right hand with that look on his face like a slave master who is about to whip a stubborn slave. His eyes are fiery red like someone who has just smoked a million kilos of cannabis and marijuana put together; a human dragon! Things are about to get pretty ugly. “ELISABETH! Where were you?” he screams. “I, I,I,..” I’m stuttering and my body is already shivering like the tail of a rattle snake. I cannot explain anything, I’m too, too scared. I give him that look of guilt; that look of a disgraced wife who’d just been caught after betraying her faithful husband by committing adultery. I give him that look a teenage girl gives her mother when she’s just lost her virginity in that first sweet sex. I give him that look Eve gave God when she was asked why she’d eaten the forbidden fruit. And then like Eve, I take the blame off me, “It, it, was, was, Bastard’s idea. He’s the one who told us to go to Budapest and steal guavas and steal, no, take a dead woman’s shoes and sell it to, to, to buy bread and….” “WHAT! You stole a dead woman’s shoes!!!!!!” “No, we took, not, not steal and…” “Are you…” twash, the first one falls on my back with a swishing noise penetrating the flesh and sends me straight to the ground with a “doop” sound. I fall onto bare earth and I’m rolling in the dust like a maniac and scratching my back from all angles like the discrete directions my friends had taken to evaporate. The piece of bread falls from my fingers and three fowls are furiously pecking at it. One grips it with its beak and scurries away. The others also take off after her. Twash, Ouch! Ouch! The second one unearths a scream; a tortured scream from my vocal cord that passes through my larynx to my pharynx to my boucal cavity and even my nasal cavity into the atmosphere in a vociferous reverberation that almost deafens every Paradise resident and blows off the rooftops of the shanty shacks. I am thinking how the punishment is going to exceed my crime by any logical logic. Twash, the third one is whistling piercingly on my stomach like flails of fire from my dragon father. The flails are falling on my flesh and my father is cursing and insulting and whipping and I’m weeping and he’s whipping and I’m weeping and the cane is whistling and I’m rolling and tossing and turning and wincing and wailing like it’s the end of the world and I would kill my father dead if I ever survive this kind of military drone attack because madness has infected and crisscrossed two wires in his brain and those two oppositely charged wires weren’t supposed to come into contact and………(Wait, hold up, let’s fast forward.)

2011: I’m all grown now, sitting at a dinner table in Oxford. I’ve been in London for week, meeting publishers, editors, doing readings, press interviews and tonight is a big night when the Caine prize winner will be announced. But I’m nervous and restless. I’m quite contented with the nomination but also want to win this thing! Who doesn’t? The announcer takes the cue. My heart is beating like a jackhammer. “And the winning short story is…“Hitting Budapest” by Noviolet Bulawayo from Zimbabwe. It is a story with moral weight and power about stealing guavas.” Everybody at the table is clapping and clapping as I receive my prize and pose next to the sculpture of Sir Michael Caine for photos like I’d done in Budapest in front of the photographer woman who had eaten the thing. Many miles away in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe in a place called Paradise, my guava stealing friends who are all married with children now are also clapping and celebrating together in Bastard’s house. Their kids are also clapping although they don’t know what they are clapping for, or even what their parents are celebrating about. Bastard skips with a bottle in his hands. “You’ve done it Elisabeth! We are all very proud of you, you brought our story to the worldwide stage, yes. Here’s your champagne, I’m popping it, poof.” And they are drinking and drinking and all of a sudden, Stina asks, speaking for the first time, “Where are our children?” They look around and their kids have all disappeared. Mother of Bones, who is still alive; an amazing 200-year-old creeps in on all fours like a baby. Her great great grand children have names like Collar bone, Rib cage, Cranium, Tibia and the most stubborn one is vertebral Column. She says, “they have all gone to Budapest to steal guavas with my progeny of bones. Chipo, your daughter Hippo-potamus Calculus, whom you were pregnant with when you used to steal guavas walloped Bastard’s son, Drunkard, the head of Horror on his head but he went with them anyway. Godknows, your daughter, Devil Ignorant asked me -Caring mother how are you? And I said fine and smiled at them more than I did with you people. But I don’t know why they were all looking away from my face as they disappeared.” Sbho squints sideways at Chipo and asks her in laughter, “dear, ring any bells?” “Sure.” “So what do we do with them? Whip them?” Sbho asks again. “No,” Chipo and Stina unanimously respond. “Yes,” Bastard says. “No.” “I say yes.” “Okay, wait a minute, everybody listen to me,” Bastard orders. He stills acts like he’s the boss, like he’s the president of Paradise. “We will wallop them on the head and whip them hard because it is the cane that inspired Elisabeth’s winning of the Caine, period.”

A letter from the Rambler

A Letter from the Rambler.

Dear Pip old chap. Man, have you heard the latest in America? That a bold twenty year old shot and killed twenty six people including his mother with four bullets lodged in her brain and even twenty children, six year olds in cold blood. I cannot describe that kind of act. Not even Shakespeare, Charles Dickens nor Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie can find the right words to describe that kind of thing. But the truth is, it is not the first time such a thing is happening in America and certainly won’t be the last. Every year you always hear such stories about a psychotic or psychopathic kid who gets up one morning and snaps and starts spraying bullets on everybody like a drunk spraying pee from his uncontrollable penis of showers straight from a bladder which contains a lake of alcoholic urine. And the Americans are always quick to give us the explanation, “This kid is known to have a long history of depression, delusions, isolation, trauma, paranoia, claustrophobia, insomnia, amnesia, non compos mentis, delirium tremens…” Arrrgh, my ear, my ear, Pip old chap! Those names give me chronic migraine headaches. And they feed us with all those jaw breaking scientific names of all those their jaw breaking mental conditions that can make us Africans develop deafness. Word Pip, all those their explanations of mental ineptitude why madness has crisscrossed two wires in their kids’ brains are all a bunch of fallacies intended to cover up the real reason why their kids have gone gaga with AK 47s and AR15s just like Lady Gaga has gone gaga with monstrous clothing.

Has the American media ever pondered why Sub Saharan children like us never suffer from those their non compos mentises or Delirium tremenses and why we never do such things? One word –cane. In my country Cameroon, we call it “mulongor.” From the moment we are born, whenever we do something wrong we are immediately sent to it first with a knuckle knock on our foreheads, “kock”. Next …twash, the first stroke falls on our backs with a swishing noise penetrating the flesh and sends us straight to the ground with a “doop” sound. We fall onto bare earth and we are rolling in the dust like maniacs and scratching our backs from all angles. Twash, Ouch! Aye! Aye! The second one unearths a scream; a tortured scream from our vocal cords that passes through our larynxes to our pharynxes to our boucal cavities and even our nasal cavities into the atmosphere in a vociferous reverberation that almost deafens anybody around us. Twash, the third one is whistling piercingly on our palms like flails of fire falling on our flesh and our fathers are cursing and insulting and whipping and we are weeping and they are whipping and we are weeping and wailing like it’s the end of the world. Yes. Then when we do something wrong again, we go through that dreaded whipping lifecycle again. That’s why we grow up to be sane adults with a sound moral fibre who do not spray bullets on people. I’m not saying we grow up to be perfect though. But even the stubborn African child knows he does not have to plunge bullets into his mother’s forehead! And into the cranium of a six year old! or six year olds for God’s sake!

But the Americans, what do they do? They do not only spare the rod but also spoil the rod. When their children do something wrong, they only scold them or sometimes don’t even scold them. Worst of all, when the American kids are whipped, they pick up the phone in fury and call 911 (using their parents’ phones in the process. Do those calls also add to the bills?) The police officer will come and say, “Sir, we will incarcerate you for spanking this kid.” And the parent is locked up and the children are happy. And when it happens again, the parent is locked up again and they are even happier. When the locking up keeps recurring the happiness keeps increasing and increasing and there may be a time when the police will delay the arrival and the kid will get very very angry and think he is the police. Since America is a place where anybody can own guns, the kid will pick up his AK47 or AR15 and think he is doing good police work and shoot the father dead for spanking him and laugh happily like a hyena hehehehe. He will move out of the house and since his brain is gun possessed due to the excessive shooting of aliens in Playstation (like this one in Connecticut), the obsessive listening to gunshots in 50 cent’s gangsta rap music or watching movies like “The Matrix” one thousand times, he will go around shooting six year old chaps and 100 year old chaps believing he’s Keanu Reeves or 50 cent or even a US soldier shooting in Konengal valley; Pakistan before shooting himself dead. And the American media will start feeding us blatant lies of mental names like Delirium tremens and non compos mentis so we should believe them. Pip, not me, I cannot believe them because all that is infamous rubbish. Those illnesses don’t exist. It’s all fictitious like a John Grisham novel.

The Americans were part of the early evangelists who spread Christianity in Africa in the 1880’s. In the Holy Bible which they brought to us it is clearly stated, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Our parents took the advice of the Holy book and we are not shooting our mothers along with six year olds. Ironically, the Americans did not take the rich advice of God’s wisdom and look at what is happening to them. They have not only spared the rod but they have also spoilt the rod and by their own doing doubly and even triply spoilt the child. Pip old chap, I don’t want to keep running my mouth else those Americans will send a military drone to bomb my head off planet earth. Rather, they may send one of those their remote controlled, delirium tremens “never-miss-the-target” sniper kids to Cameroon with a bazooka. No, God forbid, Papa God. Those kids are more ruthless than fighter jets like B2 bombers. They are even deadlier than atomic bombs. The hole one of them will excavate on my small tummy with that bazooka will be as deep as that valley in America called the Grand Canyon. It may even split me into two halves. And split twenty six of my relatives into fifty two halves. Americans, I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything. Look, Pip, don’t quote me anywhere, I was only rambling.

Yours truly,

The rambler.

Cameroon's president clocks thirty years in power

President Paul Biya: Cameroon’s 'lion man'

By Randy Joe Sa'ah BBC News, Yaounde

It is 30 years since Paul Biya, dubbed Cameroon's "lion man", came to power - making him one of Africa's longest-serving leaders.

He may have adopted his nickname late in his political career - after the country's football team, the Indomitable Lions, reached the quarter-final of the 1990 World Cup - but the 79 year old has employed the tactics of lion from the start.
Born in a village deep in the equatorial forest of southern Cameroon, the Catholic missionaries who educated him in a nearby seminary hoped he would become a priest.
But Mr Biya chose instead to study law and political science at the University of Paris, returning to work in the civil service.
The short, courteous technocrat rose through the ranks, taking up senior positions and winning the confidence of Ahmadou Ahidjo who had been head of state since independence in 1960.

He was a loyal prime minister for seven years, until 1982 - when in a surprise move Mr Ahidjo resigned from office and named Mr Biya president.

Mr Ahidjo held on to the chairmanship of the ruling party, thinking it was a more powerful position than that of president.
But this was when Mr Biya pounced - purging Ahidjo loyalists and eventually forcing the independence leader into exile.
He then proved himself a survivor - foiling two attempted coups, one in 1983 and another a year later.
Mr Ahidjo was fingered as the culprit and a military tribunal sentenced him to death in absentia.
He later died in Senegal, and his former protege would not allow his body to be brought back to Cameroon for burial.

Paul Biya: Serial election victor

• 1992, wins with 40% of the vote
• 1997, wins with 93% of the vote - boycotted by opposition
• 2004, wins with 75% of the vote
• 2011, wins with 78% of the vote

Royal air

Mr Biya has displayed the same ruthlessness over the years with allies who have shown presidential ambition.

One of his doctors is in jail for corruption, a former interior minister has just started a 25-year sentence on similar charges; a former prime minister is currently on trial and two others have gone into exile.
However, he maintains a somewhat royal air, distancing himself from the cabinet - some ministers are appointed and sacked years later without ever meeting the president.
On the international front, he has also shown stamina - forcing Cameroon's more powerful neighbour Nigeria to hand over the prized Bakassi Peninsula.
The two countries have clashed several times over the oil-rich territory and Mr Biya decided to go to the International Court of Justice to decide the case.

 Mr Biya has said he wants to be remembered for bringing democracy to Cameroon.

He finally gave in to pressure to end the one-party system and in 1992 held and won the country's first multiparty elections with only 40% of the vote - amid allegations of fraud. His main rival John Fru Ndi was widely believed to have won - but a Supreme Court judge said his hands "were tied" and declared Mr Biya victorious.
The president has since gone on to consolidate his hold on power, winning three subsequent presidential polls and never gaining less than 75% of the vote.
His critics say the president and his allies have ensured that Cameroonians have little real choice, with his party always assured of victory well in advance of every election.
And corruption is an issue that has dogged Mr Biya during his time in office.
He has now set up an anti-corruption commission, but it is said to permeate all levels of society and has hampered the country's development, with Cameroon winning the title as the most corrupt country in the world twice in the 1990s

Perhaps one of the keys to his political longevity is his second wife Chantal, 38 years his junior, who he married in 1994.

Famed for her mane of orange hair, her outgoing nature and charity work have ensured her much media coverage.
She is often referred to in the press as Cameroon's "Queen of Hearts", more than making up for the husband's aloof nature.
The first couple, who have three children together, even had a lion and lioness named after them at the Mvog Beti zoo in the capital, Yaounde.
They have also become known for their lavish lifestyle in Cameroon - one of Africa's main importers of French champagne - and abroad.
'Absentee landlord'
Their holiday in southern France three years ago was the subject of articles in the Cameroonian and French press which alleged Mr Biya was spending $40,000 a day on 43 hotel rooms. Officials at the time defended the president's right to spend the money allotted to him the way he wished.
Because of his lengthy absences - sometimes two or three months at a time - he is known by his critics as the "absentee landlord".
When the Paul Biya lion died at Mvog Beti zoo in 2007, many said it was bad omen for the president.
Not long afterwards there were rumours that he had died in a Swiss clinic.
When he returned home after what had been a 43-day absence, he boasted on state television that those wishing him dead must wait for another 20 years.
And since then, journalists have learnt not to speculate or joke about his health.
The late veteran reporter Pius Njawe spent a year in prison for suggesting the president was suffering from a heart problem when he appeared to faint while watching a football match 14 years ago.
Having changed the constitution in 2008 to remove presidential term limits, Mr Biya seems quite content to remain at the helm for some time to come.
The army is well paid and loyal. It crushed the 2008 food riots, one of the biggest threats the president has ever faced.
Even a march planned by the main opposition Social Democratic Front to protest at Mr Biya's three decades in power was dispersed by riot police before it could begin - to ensure nothing dampens the celebrations.

Africa's longest-serving leaders

• 33 years: Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo - Equatorial Guinea, took power in a coup in August 1979
• 33 years: Jose Eduardo dos Santos - Angola, took over after death of the country's first president in September 1979
• 32 years: Robert Mugabe - Zimbabwe, won the country's independence elections in April 1980
• 30 years: Paul Biya - Cameroon, took over after resignation of the country's first president in November 1982
• 26 years: Yoweri Museveni - Uganda, became president after his rebel group took power in January 1986

The First Black President of America?

Part Two: AMERICAN POLITICS IN HUMOUR (Inspired by the cartoon, “Tom and Jerry”)

NB: Forget Obama is the US president. Take yourself back to June 2008 when you still had doubts whether a black guy could really win a US presidential election in November 2008.

Title: The first Black President of America?

Tom: (Watching TV and celebrating) Praise the lord, he has done it.

Jerry: Who just did what?

Tom: Can’t you see the images, Barack Obama just clinched the Democratic nomination. Praise the lord. Ah, it skipped my mind, you’re even too short, Lilliputian from Gulliver’s Travels’ island of Lilliput.

Jerry: (Jumping up and down) Wait, wait, Tall Tom, isn’t that a black man on the screen? That your Obama, isn’t he black?

Tom: Yes, he’s black, what’s wrong with that?

Jerry: Hahahahahihiheheehe hu huhu, you like dreaming like Joseph in the Bible. No chance.

Tom: But Joseph’s dreams came to pass. They were realistic dreams. Why are you saying no chance?

Jerry: Don’t make me laugh, where in the history books did you ever read about a black slave ruling America in it’s 200 year history hahahahahahik kiuihiiih

Tom: But it can happen! Nelson Mandela became president of South Africa after apartheid ended.

Jerry: That was in black Africa dude, a black man! ruling America! Hahahihihikuikuikuihuhu

 Tom: You this mouse, I will chase you, catch you and eat you up.

Jerry: My hole is just over there dude. We can start all over again just like every time.

Tom: Technically, he’s not all black, he has a white mother from Kansas and an Indonesian step father.

Jerry: Forget it, I know him, I was pretending, he has a black Kenyan father, he’s black, no chance. A black man can never govern America, no way, no road. That road is inexistent -from the plantations to the White house? Its too far, too impossible, it’s like taking a rocket aiming to reach heaven. No matter how good your probability in math is. Look at black Jesse Jackson, didn’t he lose the US presidential election?

Tom: But he was third! This guy has even better credentials, Harvard educated, very good policies, didn’t support the war in Iraq, intelligent, young, eloquent, very charismatic, he transcends racial barriers…

Jerry: No, you got it all wrong; too black, too too black wife, too black kids, two black kids, too young, too inexperienced, too Osama like name meaning too looking like a terrorist, too anti American, too anti american pastor Jeremiah Wright, (God damn America!), too moslem, too Allaaaaah Kuba, too Antichrist, too pro Abortionist, too tall, too cute for president, too media darling, too Hollywood like, too fit for action movies, too distant, too Hawai and Indonesian raised, too African, too…

Tom: Stop, stoppp!!!, you talk too much, too short thing, too black ugly thing, too hating a man who has got your colour, too short like an eternal Lilliput, fool. Do you know who he defeated? White Hilary Clinton, the wife of a too loved American president, Bill too Clinton. Even with him on her side, the Bill two Clintons lost the bid. What do you say to that too uh?

Jerry: Frankly, too bad, too too bad.

Tom: For who?

Jerry: Hilary too unlike Bill of course. Damn, she underestimated him too much and didn’t work too hard.

Tom: Maybe she didn’t work too hard because she was depressed Bill had two ‘wives’ like a small African chief and was banging “too hard” on Monica Lewinski instead. hahaha

Jerry: Shut up, too immoral cat, too fool, but….yes, yes, John McCain will beat him.

Tom: (smiles) My turn now. John Mc Cain is too old, too God damn old to be God damn president, that dude is 72 years too old, you too short thing. Obama –young and too energetic, too 46, John McCain supported the failed war in Iraq too much, too supported a useless war, too supported George Bush’s horrible policies, too willing to continue the insane policies of George Bush. Americans will throw him into the bush, the forest.

Jerry: Wow, I just remembered, it’s great McCain is a former Vietnam soldier, that’s the height of American patriotism unlike your un-American, anti American Obama. His Americanism will make him win.

Tom: Another knock out punch on that your point, the past two defeated presidential hopefuls, John Kerry in 2004 and Al Gore in 2000 were former Vietnam soldiers. Americans consider your proposed policies first before patriotism and fighting in Vietnam bullshit. He’s doesn’t have any good policies, supported George Bush in the failed war in Iraq, promised to keep them there if elected president. But Obama never supported that war-he was right. Has promised to pull troops out of Iraq –he’s still right and “Yes, we can” yes, he can deliver the “change we can believe in” he’s willing to bring change –reform the whole American system and talk, dialogue with our enemies instead of spraying bullets on them. Can McCain beat that political message “No, he can’t.” say something Lilliput.

Jerry: Ah, I’m sick and tired of this black guy called Barack Osama…Buck Ofama…Go back to Hawai…Go Barack to Hawai…Obama Bin Lying…change madness…No he can’t, bullshit.

Tom: You see, George Bush plunged America into recession, took America to a useless war in Iraq, handling of domestic policy-horrible, foreign policy –horrible, what’s his presidential rating? Oh yeah, 24%. McCain supported him the whole time and you want to tell me he will win in November and make a good president? Hahahaha

Jerry: Osama will lose the election.

Tom: Console yourself, he’s leading McCain in the polls by five points.

Jerry: He’s going to be another victim of the Bradley effect?

Tom: Bradley what?

Jerry: Bradley effect. There was once a black guy called Tom Bradley who campaigned for a seat in congress. He was eloquent with good policies, people liked him more than his white opponent. He was clearly leading in the polls right up till election day. But when results were released, Bradley lost, probably because he was black. It became known as the Bradley effect. Obama will be another victim.

Tom: I don’t think so. Look, race will not be an issue in this election. In the wake of the 20^th century, Dr W.E.B Dubois said the problem of that century would be one of the colour line referring to racism and it was true. In the wake of the 21^st century, Kenyan Professor Ali Mazrui said the problem of our century will be that of the culture line. America’s enemies are fast becoming people with a different culture not race. Look at it objectively, an Arab can rise high in the US provided he is Christian. Proof –A Christian Arab emerged third in the 2000 presidential elections; Ralph Nader. If Nader was a moslem -forget it. Obama’s enemies have used his father’s moslem faith to glue that to him to make him look like someone with a different culture, people are using his Hawai/Indonesia upbringing, anti American and anti Christ tags to make him look anti Americulturised. They seldom use his race. Obama fights all those culture stereotypes far more than the race stereotype. He even embraces his race well as he plainly said in one interview “I am too black.” He considers himself a black man not even a biracial man. He’s an intelligent man who knows that the race thing is just neglible now. But if you fumble with culture, dare embrace the moslem faith –you’re dead. So do you now see that the Bradley effect will be an old concept to this election?

Jerry: Whatever, Buck Ofama

Tom: Hahahaha I have beaten you, concede defeat eternal Lilliput

Jerry: Go Barack to Hawai

FIVE MONTHS LATER. Tom is watching the November elections. CNN’s Wolf Blitzer announces, “Breaking news from CNN, Barack Obama has just been elected the president of the United States…..”

Tom: (skips from chair and is running around happily) Hahahahaha Eternal Lilliput, where is this eternal Lilliput, oh he’s disappeared into his mouse hole. I told you, I told you, he will win it, first black president of the US, it has happened, he won clearly, it was not even a close race, yes, from the plantations to the white house, a historic moment, Martin Luther king is smiling from the grave, his dream has come true, like that of Joseph, come out of that hole, Lilliputttttttttt.

Jerry: Go away, my eyes were not meant to see devils like you. Go away, Obama rigged the election.

Tom: Hahahaha, do you think the United states is Cameroon or Nigeria or Kenya where elections were rigged. When will you ever concede defeat? Uh?

Jerry: That your Obama is a lucky boy, if he had contested for this election in Kenya, he would have been arrested, whipped on his buttocks, locked up just like Raila Odinga won the 2007 elections in Kenya but instead of becoming president became the punching bag of the Kenyan ‘president’ Moi Kibaki and later convinced to become Kibaki’s prime minister for post election violence to end. He’s a lucky boy, a black Kenyan ruling the strongest and richest nation in the world. Incredible. He could not have won in his poor ancestral nation.

Tom: Yes he is, yes he won, yes he can, yes we can.

The end. But there will still be posts about our debative cat and mouse on other topics too. Please don’t ask me why I am writing this now. In 2008 I didn’t even know the meaning of the word blog and I didn’t have access to a computer.

NB: I’m not dissing anybody, this is all jokes folks, all fabrications with the intention of rekindling interest in that historic election. A majority of all what is said here is false. I’m out, Nkiacha Atemnkeng.

Dear Obama

AMERICAN POLITICS IN HUMOUR (Inspired by the cartoon, “Tom and Jerry”)

Title: Dear Obama.

Tom: (Writing) Dear Obama, how are you? And how is Michelle and the…

Jerry: Useless, useless, he will never read it

Tom: You this mouse, I will chase you, catch you and eat you up. I just have ten minutes to write this, leave me alone.

Jerry: Hahahahahihiheheehe hu huhu, my hole is just over there dude. We can start all over again just like every time.

Tom: (Writing) Dear Obama, how are you?...

Jerry: On a serious note Tom, how is this your so called, “Letter to Obama” going to reach him?

Tom: Mail -Barack Obama, Oval Office, The White House, Washington D.C. hahaha, I got it, no need for a post number.

Jerry: Secret service are going to think it’s a letter bomb and will discard it.

Tom: (scratches head) Damn! I forgot that.

Jerry: You see, useless, useless like I said.

Tom: Whoa! Great idea –email (runs to laptop and starts typing) Dear Obama, how…

Jerry: Email address?

Tom: (scratches head and screams) God, God, why did you create this nuisance, this menace, this numbskull, this eternal Lilliput called Jerry?????

Jerry: cos he loves me just like he loves you just like you love Obama but u’re going to love the fact that, your letter will never reach him cos the secret service will not love the idea and even if u get his email right, the presidential email system will love to identify ur useless email as spam and will love discarding it.

Tom: You’ve just mentioned the word “love” seven times in a very long sentence yet you hate me.

Jerry: Not exactly. But I love the fact that he will no longer be president of the US come November. He is going to be beaten by super dupa Mitt Romneyyyyyy!

Tom: May fireballs from heaven burn all the black hater fur on ur skin. I saw all the hater bills on ur wall when he was campaigning in 2008. “Barack Osama…Buck Ofama…Go ba’ra’ck to Hawai…Obama Bin Lying” How can a very black mouse like you hate on the first black American president like that?

Jerry: Your head can’t even make it pass my mouse hole yet you claim to have seen bills on my room wall! Hahaha who’s the lying tramp here –Tom bin lying!

Tom: (scratches head) Whatever dude. Barack Obama is...

Jerry: Add Hussein, there’s a Hussein in there somewhere. He’s the first cousin to Saddam Hussein.

Tom: Lie! Whatever, Barack Hussein Obama is like the French team at the 1998 World Cup. Everybody hated them, called them the black team of a white country, the united nations of Africa yet they kept grinding out victories. When they reached the final, everybody was like “Brasil! The masters of football! Ronaldo! France is dead, their luck’s run out, Brasil-6, France-0. What happened? France-3, Brasil-0 and they won the world cup. That’s how Obama is, the more you hate on him, the more he gets stronger, comes up with even the most eloquent speeches that pulls voters more and more to vote for him. He defeated white John McCain, he’s still going to beat white Romney.

Jerry: That world cup was played in France, it is alleged the French cooks drugged the food of the Brasilian players on the day of the final, that’s why they won.

Tom: Lies. Jealous people always come up with strange theories to explain the toil of others’ success. It is good you said “alleged.” Was it ever proven? No. any team can be beaten. Proof –France beat Brasil again on neutral soil –in Germany at the 2006 world cup. The French connived with the German cooks to drug the Brasilians’ food again uh! You eternal Lilliput.

Jerry: It’s good you said even the best team can be beaten. The Obama team will be thrashed by Romney; it’s the Mormon moment!

Tom: No Mormon president for you dude, I consider Mormonism another kind of occultism, they are a sect.

Jerry: It is your Obama who is the antichrist!

Tom: Shut your mouth, you are surely going insane by progressive degrees.

Jerry: Yes, he is. The guy backed abortion long ago. You know what that means –he supports the termination of life-MURDER. Plus, he kills innocent people every day in Afghanistan. And, he recently backed gay marriage, the first US president to do that. It is clearly stated in the Holy Bible. God created man and woman for procreation. It was Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve! Anti Christ! Romney, Romney, Romney and the running mate Paul Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan…

Tom: That Ryan will make him lose the election, the choice would be detrimental to his campaign just like Sarah Palin ended up a liability to the McCain campaign.

Jerry: Lies, Ryan is the perfect man.

Tom: Mr. Money, Romney is a dummy. He’s too small a being for Obama to compete against. His personality is nowhere near the president’s.

Jerry: If he’s a dummy then Obama is a failure.

Tom: Obama will not run against Romney in November, in fact, he won’t run against somebody, he will run against something.

Jerry: What do you mean by that? You this dull cat.

Tom: In November, Obama will run against unemployment, Obama will run against the economy. When voters go to the polls, they will be looking at the unemployment figures. They will be looking at the American economic situation before voting. And when those many dudes who are out of work vote, they may vote for Romney because they are angry with Obama, when others who are working vote, they may vote for Romney because they angry about the economic situation. They will be tempted to think, Romney may change their job situation or their economy. Romney’s policies will not convince them to vote for him but their anger against Obama.

Jerry: And Romney will win the election. Hahaha.

Tom: No, there are many others who will vote for Obama again into the presidency because they will acknowledge the good job he has done and is still doing.

Jerry: What good job? America is still facing a serious economic crisis! Chronic unemployment! America’s debt under the Obama presidency is more than that of any other former US president! Is that what you call good job Tom?

Tom: Look, Obama took power when America was in a deep recession triggered by the insipid policies of that failed 24% rated buffoon called George Bush but he took the country out of it. One year of hard work cannot bring economic prosperity, not even a presidential term. It requires at least a decade. Besides, it is not only America which is in crisis but the whole world. Europe is worst hit, it is a global crisis and as it deepens, America too suffers. When the stock market shares plunge in Europe, they also plunge on Wall street. Secondly, you know that his handling of foreign policy has been good, cleaning up your George Bush’s presidential mess in Iraq for the whole of his first term, like a suction pipe sucks out excrement from a toilet. The man is trying, so leave him alone.

Jerry: Obama has done nothing for his father’s homeland of Kenya and all of Africa, absolutely nothing. He’s never visited Kenya as president. In his four years as president, he’s only been to Ghana! But look at George Bush, he declared a war on AIDS in Africa, made sure antiretroviral drugs reached even the rural areas, free HIV testing programs, free condoms, free everything when it came to AIDS such that infection rates fell. But Obama –none of that, not even visits!

Tom: He did all that to save his image a little bit after taking a look at the performance gauge wc was surely at 15%. After his “war on terror” failed woefully and he didn’t find any weapons of mass destruction in Iraq and the hurricane Katrina government neglect fiasco, he launched into a “war on AIDS,” in Africa. That made his rating go up to 24%. Obama is not the president of Africa but of the United states. He cannot leave his shaky economy shattered by Bush to concentrate on lifting up Africa’s. Nevertheless, he still makes sure Africa benefits from US aid and investment just like other US presidents did.

Jerry: The Obama healthcare law thing was a fiasco! Romney is willing to scrape it off, horrible healthcare plan.

Tom: The law obviously had flaws but it wasn’t a fiasco, it will be good in the long term for all of America.

Jerry: What long term are you talking about when he is leaving in November? And his successor Romney will throw it in the bin?

Tom: Obama will win. It’s good you just mentioned the word “bin.” it reminds me of Bin Laden. Why don’t you mention the fact that Obama Killed him? Remarkable success in the war against terror! He did that in just 2years, meanwhile ur Bush man couldn’t do it throughout his whole double term! Shame.

Jerry: He did that because they are brothers, from name to religion–the moslem Obama has killed his moslem brother Osama. Ur man knew where the other was from intuition, because they think alike.

Tom: Stop spreading blatant lies, eternal Lilliput.

Jerry: Wait a minute, I have a theory- the government hates hip hop.

Tom: Why?

Jerry: The 2Pac and Notorious B.I.G killers who are both still in the US have never been identified and arrested despite the fact that, there is even a facial drawing of the person who killed Biggy. But the US government was able to go to Afghanistan search for a terrorist from cave to cave, learnt he was in Pakistan, went there, fished him out and blew off his head with bullets. The government hates hip hop.

Tom: Whatever dude, I have to continue my letter.

Jerry: Useless, you had ten minutes to write that, I’ve been pestering you for 9mins 50 seconds. Your mistress will soon send u away.

Tom: (scratches head) Argggh!!!

Woman: Tom, get away from my chair, you this naughty cat.

(Tom jumps towards Jerry and starts chasing him around)

Tom: Ouch! (murmuring) Dear Obama, I wanted to write to you but this eternal Lilliput just made sure I didn’t. I tried to chase him but bumped my head against the wall around his mouse door and it hurts, it hurts, I’ve always wanted to eat him up but I’ve not even caught him yet. One day I will, yes I can, dear Obama

Jerry: hahahahahahuhuhu. No, you can’t.

The end: Watch out for the sequel to this write up which will be set in 2008 about the rise of Obama and rivalry against John McCain –Its good I commemorate that historic election too.

NB: I’m not dissing anybody in this my first blog, this is all jokes folks, all fabrications with the intention of rousing interest in the US election. A majority of all what is said here is false. I’m out, Nkiacha Atemnkeng.