Many years ago in my seedy neighborhood, across from my home, there lived a family that was notorious for picking fights with just about anyone. No week went by without a fight-fest from some pub, some playground, some bus stop, to the house. The haggard-looking man on stilts drunken old para-loony father and the sack of potatoes-looking fire-spitting mother were no bystanders. They would slight, shove, push, chip-shoot, mock and torment their sons' adversaries as the fighting frenzy escorted by the block mob entered their yard. Armed with sticks and pebbles they would throw in a punch, stab and whip with great caution. Through the high pitched choruses of wanu-eeh-wanu! you would hear the mother hauling obscenities at the sons' opponents.
What I found particularly intriguing was the fact that all these ba shimabungi were mooching on this one poor elder sister. Shonse ntalamisoke shi, these fighting bobs had no jobs. They were not much of anything out a street fight anyway. And school to them was like a walk on hot coal. The oldest male who challenged himself to run the academic marathon met his demise prematurely when he got murdered in cold blood by his live-in girlfriend. It was rumored that she bludgeoned him using some heavy object. While he was lying unconscious, she drilled two straight holes into his chest, from shoulders down, using a 12 inch steel and poured hot water into them. Then she tied his head between his bent knees, kept him in a sitting position with hands tied to the back for eight weeks. Gradually the body began to decompose letting off a very disturbing stench but the girl continued to live mulya mwine mu kabini. The death of the only male who would have made something out of himself drove the older sister into a depression. When she passed away, all her assets were pawned off. Poverty reigned in the family once again.
But this family is not what this piece is about. Today I want to give an Irrational Thinker's Award to a group of public figures who always remind me of this family. Each time these politicians pen their mouths, a wrong combination of words come out. A colleague of mine in Atlanta wonders why Zambian politicians think they can operate the crowds and excite their base without a script. They either think every Zambian is naive or they don't know any better. My colleague adds that, campaign stop is a crucial time. It is synonymous with an elevator moment when you are allowed only 30 seconds to do your shtick. If you have anything worthwhile to say, according to the 30-second rule, you better deliver a well buffed no-nonsense presentation in that space of time. The rest of the time you would spend explaining what it may mean to different interest groups.
I have observed with utter disappointment the manner in which some of the politicians present themselves and how they feed off the excitement of their rowdy audiences. In place of managing that energy and excitement, they get drunk on it to the point of losing their heads.
This article, Sata is mad, says George Kunda, is essentially akasamuna nkunge.
I have always wondered where the Ng'wang'wazi, Eagle-eagle, and Kaponya get their training from to insult each other umoshacela. Little did I know they are subconsciously tutored by George Kunda, Michael Sata, Ronald Shikapwasha, Wynter Kabimba, Daniel Munkombwe, and a whole host of unscripted vile-tongued politicians who are old enough to be parents to these unemployed rolling stones. For some reasons, these guys have conditioned themselves to believe that they can deliver an earth shaking off the cuff impromptu speech.
If you attempted to go back in time, you would be hard squeezed to find a time when you would hear shikuluBanda and siBwalya trading obscenities pa katande mono. So you would wonder what their parents would say if they heard them and whether they would be, like Kacepa would say, doing sit-ups in the grave upon seeing their sons' insult slinging in public every time a mic is placed in front of them.
Desmond Tutu once said, his father advised him and his siblings not to raise their voices but the quality of their arguments. Based on this one-sentence piece of advice, one can begin to analyze the content of the speeches of the Zambian politicians for quality. Truth be told, politicians miss an opportunity to educate the electorate on important national issues. But then again, you can only educate another on something you have educated yourself first. What politicians seem to have taught themselves well is not the ability to articulate ideological and and policy issues but obscenities. Consequently, their children are learning nothing from them but the art of self denigration.
Folks these politicians are unwittingly developing a culture of politics that is devoid of respect and while we stand by and look. We must stop them. Challenge them that there is no message too difficult to deliver without wrapping it in obscenities. What they ought to realize is that as a nation, we will be respected only to the degree that we demonstrate respect for ourselves.
So, when somebody tries to put somebody down we should remind them that insele fiko. We should encourage them to learn Mama Inonge Wina's style of debate and manner of presentation - well thought out, succinct and enlightening. I am yet to see a politician rival that calm yet firm style of public presentation.
This month's Irrational Thinker's Award is bestowed on George Kunda on behalf of himself and his fellow self deprecating politicians.
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