Lasting Images
So then, here we are, another drawn out election whose drama and suspense rivals one of those tele novelas on Telemundo, we can just about smell the end. In keeping with the spirit of looking for the absurd, I have decided to countdown the best images from the buildup to
the election. As expected, there have been a number of memorable images drawn from both losers and winners. and so, while we avidly and impatiently wait for the denouement to the election and without much ado, here are my three images from this period:
- . In first place we have a glum faced Dr Guy Scott, looking to all intents and purposes like a hostage being forced to read a statement. Around him, sweaty pirate like figures clamor for prominence, as Dr Scott looking much older than his age assures the public that he has reconciled with Honourable Edgar Lungu; the two having been on some war path against each for almost a month. Hon. Edgar Lungu for his part is trying to smile (he is always trying to smile), playfully slapping Scott on the shoulder with more than the required regularity. It is difficult to imagine what could have been going on in Dr Scott’s mind. Oh, and there he is, Dr Bishop Joshua Banda spotting an afro. Ever wondered how easy it is to be called Doctor these days. This must be huge for him, he is personally responsible for bringing the warring PF factions together. I wonder what is in it for him. Minister of Religious Affairs maybe? We will wait and see. But the image fades with the Bishop leading the erstwhile warring factions in a rendition of “Bind us Together”, and it is obvious non of the candidates have a clue as to the song's lyrics. So they nervously and awkwardly keep mouth and mumbling imaginary words
- It is a Saturday and I am unfortunate enough to be working. I am also unfortunate enough to be using Independence avenue as I travel to work. A truckload of political cadres try to muscle me off the road. One leans out, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, his eyes as bloodshot as a mosquito's thorax. He peers at me from the height of the Fuso truck packed to the rafters with slogan chanting cadres. I look up. Some speakers have been attached to the truck, blaring one campaign song after another. “Move!” he shouts at me, “can’t you see we have important matters to attend to at the High Court?”, Its not so much a question but just a statement that sounds like a question. He is wearing a black beret, a chitenge shirt bearing the smiling image of Edgar Lungu. Its quite intimidating looking at him from that height. He leans over again and shouts some unprintables at me. Obviously I am stuck, there is nowhere to go. So I simply ignore him as I wait for traffic to move. Incensed he says something about me needing to know who is in charge. Thankfully a lane ahead of me clears and I dive for it while muttering a grateful prayer. It still beats me why the excitement of an election or nomination paper filing is enough for people towantonly disregard traffic laws and endanger other road users. I can attest that it is a very scary experience being caught up in one of these political processions.
This I will never understand
- . This one is not an image I witnessed but is rather the work of my imagination and I dare say that my imagination is more fertile than a pile of cow dung. It is inspired by an interview I listened to as I drove home one evening. The interview featured one Rupiah Bwezani Banda former republican president,then presidential candidate for the Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD). I am sure if he had known that the distinction of being the former ruling party’s candidate would be taken away from him before the last ink had dried off his campaign poster, the contents of his interview would have been vastly altered. As it were I imagined him with a slightly oily face, in some hotel conference room giving an interview to Q fm. From the background noises, it is not hard to imagine that Muhabi Lungu was also there, spotting that ridiculous hair cut of his. My biggest problem with Mr Banda is that he strikes me as one of those individuals you don’t really know what you get from. It is always difficult to tell whether he is dead serious about something or simply saying it in jest. I suspect it is for the same reason that Nevers Mumba ignored him till it was almost too late. Speaking of Dr Mumba a curious thought entered my mind as I listened to Mr Banda in that self-effusing manner explain his vision for the country. "What was Dr Mumba doing about this?" I asked myself. My imagination had the answer. I imagined him shouting “Holy Ghost Fire!” at the radio as the interview progressed while simultaneously dashing it with sprinkles of specially branded election time anointed water.
Keith 2015
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