NAIROBI: We were gathered in Old Nyati’s compound whiling the afternoon away, exchanging village news and gossip when we heard someone singing a strange song: “Ooh, scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, and to hell with merit.”
We turned towards the gate to see a fat man dressed in a suit walking into the compound. “Greetings,” he cried, gesturing towards us with a walking stick that was more ornamental than functional. He wore a gold watch and gold-rimmed spectacles.
We could tell from his plump face and languid physical manner that he led a lazy and pampered life. Old Nyati shot up from his stool to welcome the stranger.
“You are very welcome, sir, to our humble village,” the village sage said. The dandy nodded condescendingly, and then announced that he was a Member of Parliament from Kenya, and he wanted to take advantage of the peace and discreet nature of our village to draft an important bill he wanted to introduce in Parliament.
“I need a quiet and peaceful place like this to think and work,” he said, “this bill will enhance national cohesion in Kenya.” His belly quivered in agreement.
Old Nyati, with some of us in tow, escorted the MP to a modest house at the edge of the village where we accommodate important guests. In the days that followed, the MP established a routine. He would wake up at noon, devour a huge meal that served as both breakfast and lunch, then, after a few calabashes of palm wine, he would recline in the hammock in his yard, no doubt to think about his important assignment.
The snoring would get louder and louder as the MP’s mind worked. In the evenings, he would disembark from the hammock for another round of legendary feeding and drinking. Then he would dance to his song, keeping a drunken rhythm with his walking stick, before retiring to bed to think some more about his assignment.
There was so much I wanted to ask the MP about the land of Kenya: The rejection of the nominee for the position of Secretary to the Cabinet, his revolutionary bill, as well as the tribal ideologies that seemed to motivate Kenyan MPs.
But whenever I passed by his compound hoping to be invited in, I would find him either ‘thinking’ in the hammock or in a feeding frenzy. One evening, the MP looked up from his gluttonous activity and saw me walking by his gate.
“Hey you,” he shouted, “come and share a little palm wine with me.”
As we sipped our beverages sitting on the bench on the veranda, he turned to me and said, “I have done some good thinking since I have been here.”
“Sir, what is the bill about?” I asked.
“Ah, you see,” he said happily, “we recently declined to confirm a certain lady as Secretary to the Cabinet because she had refused to, er, scratch our backs ...” He saw the quizzical expression on my face and he explained further.
“When she was in charge of an important office, she would decline our requests to transfer or demote people we did not like... she would also refuse to hire our relatives or our sycophants, er, supporters.” His face took on a pained expression. “Her most egregious crime was to deny MPs the use of government money...”
“But, sir,” I said, “we heard she was eminently qualified for the position.” “But she failed the aptitude test,” answered the MP, “she had refused to scratch our backs so that we in return could scratch hers.” I now understood the inspiration for our guest’s strange song.
“You see,” explained the MP, “if you cannot serve the representatives of the people, how will you serve the people themselves?” He was warming up to the discussion.
“Now, the bill I am working on - the Reciprocal Scratching of Backs Constitutional Amendment Bill – will enshrine this principle in the Constitution...”
The MP, no doubt mistaking the consternation on my face for enthusiastic attention, continued to explain how the scratch principle, if adopted by everyone, would encourage citizens to care about each others’ interests, especially those of their representatives.
As he spoke, I thought about how this accursed breed was missing a historic opportunity to use the Constitution to reinvent the social and political character of the country, making it dynamic, just and prosperous. Well-schooled in Kanu Machiavellism, the MPs were motivated by primitive tribal considerations and small-minded visions of personal wealth and power.
My thoughts were interrupted by a heavy snoring. I turned to see that the MP had commenced his famous thinking.
