MPs’ party after party as Wanjiku cries over law ten years later

A view of the Parliament buildings in Nairobi. [File]

In case you missed it, the Constitution – the work of genius that created 194 more mouths for Wanjiku to feed – turned 10 on Thursday. But going by the overwhelming endorsement it received in the 2010 referendum, it seems Wanjiku didn’t mind adding the extra plates on her table.

For years, she had served 222 MPs –  elected and nominated – without complaining one bit. She bought into the lie by crafters of the document that it was the best thing to happen after independence.

“Let us create 416 of our kind – greedy to the core and never satisfied with their pay. They will be puppets of the Executive,” the writers of the document perhaps declared of the MPs before making a move for Wanjiku’s ignorance.

They told her that the countless positions they had created were necessary as they only wished to ensure she was sufficiently represented.

“The more, the merrier,” they said. Wanjiku bought it, along with the lie that Parliament would be bolder as a watchdog.

And on the anniversary, she probably cursed her choices  now that she is ten years wiser. But the MPs were dancing to the tune of her grief.

Anniversary party

In a top-secret meeting, a few miles off no-man’s-land, some MPs threw anniversary party for the document that cemented their stature as puppets.

So secret was the party was that it never that the media had no idea about it. And if it weren’t for a leaked phone-call recording between two waheshimiwas, no one would have known of it.

“Hey, Mhesh. We will throw a party to celebrate Katiba’s birthday tomorrow. Are you in?” the first voice is heard saying.

“Hey. I’m in for any party. But who is that? And isn’t he too young to be a Mhesh? Or is he one of your sons? Wait, it can’t be what I’m thinking,” a second voice responds.

“Oh god…” the first person groans.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to make us spend public funds on your son’s birthday party. Smart, I admit. And I know we can pull it off. But don’t you think it’s a bit reckless?”

“How could anyone be this dumb?” the first person thinks to himself before responding. “Katiba isn’t a person. It’s Kiswahili for ‘Constitution’. And tomorrow marks 10 years since it was passed.”

“Constitution?”

“Yes. That one. What is it?” the second person, obviously sounding distressed, poses.

“A constitution is a set of laws that govern a country. The same laws we make back in Bunge. Or rather, the same laws the Executive force down our throats,” the first voice offers.

“Wait, just wait. We make laws and this is the first time you’re telling me about it. When did we start making them?”

“Since we assumed office in 2017. Let me explain... every time you have chanted ‘aye’, you have made a law.”

“And what happens when I say ‘nay’?” the second voice is heard asking, before the person on the other end hangs up, having had enough of his colleague’s ignorance. Even ignorance has a limit.