My name is Bure Kabisa, Member of Parliament (or BK to my dear mother) from a constituency here in Kenya.
I've heard so much anger in the last couple of days directed against the enviable joys of being a Kenyan MP demanding extra salary and I'm happy to note that most of you are being patriotic Kenyans with all this hypocrisy. True to form, even that Tamaku had the temerity to call our craft Politricks! I'd like to catch him and teach him a few tricks myself especially now that he's unemployed. But not alone with him in a room because I AM NOT GAY,OK?
Can I first say that you should expect us to cheat because you have also been up burning the midnight oil scheming ways to bend light with your moneyed bishops who are also very talented in distorting facts. In other words remember you can never defraud an honest man. What does that say about you?
We don't care what you think about us because we live in blissful ignorance of the abject poverty surrounding us. I have many ways to spend your cold cash such as paying for my mistress Claire to get her eyelashes tinted in Bangkok every 3 months after getting her eyebrows threaded and shaped. Claire is fond of traveling so last year I cooked up a 10 day trip to Canada which you all paid for. Business class of course so that we could later enjoy romantic weekends in Mombasa on the airmiles. She especially loved Dildo (the place in Newfoundland, duh! not the other one which is man's greatest rival). Have I told you that Claire is the age of my daughter who is still in college abroad on a fully funded scholarship? Some of you will call me a sexual predator, however because I have money and can get anyone I want, I see myself as the victim for choosing to be with her as well as a few others on the side. My logic used to amuse my teachers but who's laughing now. Things are not always as they appear so you should never rush to judge. But you are allowed to when you are prepared to pay him a handsome bribe. By the way Claire is my favorite with her firm caramel apple butt which I enjoy regularly, thanks to Pfizer for Viagra. I know she loves me for my game. Again I AM NOT GAY, I like to think of myself as a gangster so I guess it’s fair to say that Claire is my bangster. Some nights we bang five times until I feel like I'm having a heart attack therefore it's wise to use my time in parliament to catch a few winks and just rest. It's not easy when you're over 60...
You people on the other hand have never had a taste of the good life so you will only squander any money on basics like foodstuffs for your children. Have you got any idea how much charcoal grilled spiny rock lobster, flambéed with brandy and served in lemon butter sauce at the Tamarind costs nowadays? I like it accompanied with baby carrots and mixed salad leaves so my shit doesn't stink. Jeez, by the way why do you people have children you can't afford, just breeding like rabbits? Tsk,tsk.
Day in day out you waste time shouting yourselves hoarse about our pay and perks which are our honorable right, why don't you just go out there somewhere (don’t ask me where) and make money because that is also your right. I'm getting sick of attending your fundraisers, do you realise that goat meat is not good for my cholesterol? That's the reason once you’ve tasted a good tuna steak there's no turning back. Surely when do you expect me to use my golf club membership when you also want to see me in parliament debating? Really, I pity you guys, don't you have places to go and get pampered on a Tuesday afternoon like have a massage with extras...nyenyenye, all you do is talk bad about us. What have we done, nothing! A bad pain in the ass you all are. All together now, BK IS NOT GAY!!!
And I don't want to hear dirty questions like 'accountability' with the CDF money because I let my wife's brother use that to top up his beer money.
Remember we already have a deal: you only voted for me because of my tribe, stop pretending now that you were after service delivery and diligence to duty.
What I am saying is quit blaming others for the problems you create because you won’t take responsibility for your own destiny.
See you in 2012 around March time, it will be my pleasure to do it all again.
Bure Kabisa MP
Showing posts with label Corruption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Corruption. Show all posts
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Getting a boy to do a man’s job where cash is king
Reading the harrowing tales of abuse that Kenyan maids have suffered at the hands of their Saudi masters I’m reminded how shamefully some gay expatriates and well-heeled Kenyans are guilty of employing male domestic workers (gardeners, drivers, house-keepers etc) and also subjecting them to horrendous abuse.
There’s an abundance of unskilled labour here in one of the world’s most unequal countries, so some unscrupulous employers get away with paying salaries as low as KSH 4,000 (around USD 50) per month! for 18 hour–days with no shortage of candidates to exploit. The nightmare for the mwananchi (‘citizen’ but lately used by politicians to mean gullible slum-dwelling hoi polloi or The Great Unwashed) can start when he responds to one of those ads placed on shopping mall noticeboards: ‘Live-in Houseboy Wanted by Expat’.
‘Expat’ in Kenya for many locals conjures up images of better working conditions, Weetabix, evergreen money-growing trees on a well-tended lawn, red Corps Diplomatique licence plates and the chance to dine at the drivers’ canteen when you get taken to the Mara on a working-holiday, wow. Unfortunately there are also cases of some ‘houseboys’ (sometimes married men with families, by the way) being coerced to perform sexual acts as demanded from time to time by the boss. If you thought you had a bad day at the office, think again. This is job mis-description with ass-licking for real!
Sadly a combination of ‘macho society’ and the fear of losing a job means these faceless victims continue to wipe away nightly tears of shame in silence, within plush gated- communities and the over-manicured kei apple hedges grown to keep one set of undesirables from the other. Another irony is that the male employer (saddled with the excessive pay and perks of a business mogul but usually working for NGOs to help the living-on-less-than-a-dollar-a-day Kenyans) is able to buy a veneer of respectability because he hasn’t taken on a female worker. It’s also a fact that Kenyan women form the obvious sexual diet for the majority of predatory employers.
What troubles me still is these are some of the many people here who refer to an adult man as ‘boy’ or grown woman as ‘girl ‘ – 'houseboy', 'shamba-boy' (gardener). Might there be a perverse connection with the apathy that seems to surround the cases of child abuse in this country?
There’s an abundance of unskilled labour here in one of the world’s most unequal countries, so some unscrupulous employers get away with paying salaries as low as KSH 4,000 (around USD 50) per month! for 18 hour–days with no shortage of candidates to exploit. The nightmare for the mwananchi (‘citizen’ but lately used by politicians to mean gullible slum-dwelling hoi polloi or The Great Unwashed) can start when he responds to one of those ads placed on shopping mall noticeboards: ‘Live-in Houseboy Wanted by Expat’.
‘Expat’ in Kenya for many locals conjures up images of better working conditions, Weetabix, evergreen money-growing trees on a well-tended lawn, red Corps Diplomatique licence plates and the chance to dine at the drivers’ canteen when you get taken to the Mara on a working-holiday, wow. Unfortunately there are also cases of some ‘houseboys’ (sometimes married men with families, by the way) being coerced to perform sexual acts as demanded from time to time by the boss. If you thought you had a bad day at the office, think again. This is job mis-description with ass-licking for real!
Sadly a combination of ‘macho society’ and the fear of losing a job means these faceless victims continue to wipe away nightly tears of shame in silence, within plush gated- communities and the over-manicured kei apple hedges grown to keep one set of undesirables from the other. Another irony is that the male employer (saddled with the excessive pay and perks of a business mogul but usually working for NGOs to help the living-on-less-than-a-dollar-a-day Kenyans) is able to buy a veneer of respectability because he hasn’t taken on a female worker. It’s also a fact that Kenyan women form the obvious sexual diet for the majority of predatory employers.
What troubles me still is these are some of the many people here who refer to an adult man as ‘boy’ or grown woman as ‘girl ‘ – 'houseboy', 'shamba-boy' (gardener). Might there be a perverse connection with the apathy that seems to surround the cases of child abuse in this country?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Kenyans must come together to save Mau Forest even if it means giving Daniel arap Moi more tea
We returned to a sodden Nairobi last night which made it a tad better for my arthritic knee after arctic Britain. I see that ex-President Moi has been bolstering his 'impeccable' elder-statesman credentials with his unhelpful brand of science expounding how scarring swathes of Mau Forest Complex with tea plantations has not contributed to any detrimental effects on this crucial water tower. And a member of his erstwhile government William Ole Ntimama has joined the fray claiming to have allocated the forest land under duress. He’s conveniently invoking the principle of following orders (Nuremberg Defense-style) because I know wily Bill Ole Ntimama is no one’s fool.
You can say teetotaller Moi and Ntimama are like frequent whisky- mixed- with- red-wine hangovers; they just get worse and dangerous with age. Scientific fact coming up: More congeners in dark-coloured drinks will give you monster hangovers.
Moi in his trademark raspy voice and toting a silver-tipped ivory baton likes to cloak himself as a traditionalist and a staunch Christian. Who can forget him in the 90’s striking out viperously against homosexuality terming it unAfrican and unChristian? In order to be respected, authority has got to be respectable (Tom Robbins, much respect), unfortunately most of what we remember about Moi is how he, his family and cronies were implicated in many sophisticated corruption scandals of unforgivable proportions. I doubt he has the sense God gave the crocodiles on the Mara River (when they lie waiting for wildebeeste) to draw less attention to himself.
I’m 99.99% certain he’ll now be at the front of the queue; cap in hand, chasing a bumper compensation for dubiously acquired property. Let’s just pay him off and hope it buys him sleep in his sunset years.
You can say teetotaller Moi and Ntimama are like frequent whisky- mixed- with- red-wine hangovers; they just get worse and dangerous with age. Scientific fact coming up: More congeners in dark-coloured drinks will give you monster hangovers.
Moi in his trademark raspy voice and toting a silver-tipped ivory baton likes to cloak himself as a traditionalist and a staunch Christian. Who can forget him in the 90’s striking out viperously against homosexuality terming it unAfrican and unChristian? In order to be respected, authority has got to be respectable (Tom Robbins, much respect), unfortunately most of what we remember about Moi is how he, his family and cronies were implicated in many sophisticated corruption scandals of unforgivable proportions. I doubt he has the sense God gave the crocodiles on the Mara River (when they lie waiting for wildebeeste) to draw less attention to himself.
I’m 99.99% certain he’ll now be at the front of the queue; cap in hand, chasing a bumper compensation for dubiously acquired property. Let’s just pay him off and hope it buys him sleep in his sunset years.
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