(Enter Kibaki in a cap emblazoned ‘Rega Rega’ and holding a golf stick. He wears a weird smile twitching at the sides of his mouth. He does some push-ups and unknowing to him, First Lady Mama Lucy is impressed. She serves Kibaki a steamy mug of millet porridge.)
KIBAKI: (Exasperated) At home, State House. Been a hectic day for Baba Jimmy. Lucy, my dear, what’s the news in the newspapers?
LUCY: (Scornfully) That ODM foorish thing. ODM is trouble and Raira is the Devil. Since 2002 I have not understood those fries forrowing Raira. Don’t know that ODM begins with O for Omolo, Odinga and Oginga? Very foorish!
KIBAKI: (Getting to his feet, like a man after stepping on hot coals) Who is foolish? Me? You call me Pumbavu?
LUCY: (Sympathetically) Who has called you foorish? Are you ODM? (Kindly) I keep on reminding you to wipe your ears with those cotton buds. Seems like you forget it—just like my birthdays. (In sudden realization, sphinx-like) Hey dear, take your porridge, the thermos flask is not yet half-full.
KIBAKI:(Ignoring her) How is my face, Lucy? I try to smile but people say that I only twitch the corners of my mouth. How far can one smile as a president?
LUCY: (Matter-of-factly) As far as ones cheeks can go. (Sarcastically) Of course one can smile at ticks like Raila,Uhuru and Kalonzo as they suck the rittle brood ( Pronounced Kikuyu way) of honour left in you. Do you want to be a toothless dog or a saint?
KIBAKI: You shrub again. What rittle brood are you talking about? I think we need a Kikuyu translator in this house to sort things out.
(Lucy’s shoulders stoop)
LUCY: (Confidently) What the herro are you talking about. Mama Rucy knows English.
(Rasp on the door. Enter Michuki, Minister for Internal Security. He gives his usual squint and a bent gait. As he steps into the House , a pair of torn socks peek. Kibaki notices it, ignores it but Lucy explodes)
LUCY: ( Brandishing her fore-finger) Haiya Michuki, you cannot terro me that you have not bought another pair of socks since these ones you are wearing were spotted by the hawk-eyed journalists.
MICHUKI: (Humbled, squint in active mode) Uchumi ni mbaya mama. I am the only Minister North of Marsabit and South of Pwani who walks a lot in the course of duty, a strict follower of Mzee chant-line Walking Nation. My socks speak for themselves.( To Kibaki) Mheshimiwa, what do we do with ODM? They are rattling the snake, this time not in the belly but in the fangs!
KIBAKI: ( Licking the corners of his mouth) What do you mean ‘what do we do with ODM’—Did you ring the Arturs? They need to do it like the Standard Raid. You are a Minister for Internal Security sio kuregarega tu. Pumbavu tu…but hiyo ni ukweli.
MICHUKI: ( Swallowing hard) I hear you Mzee. Now Kiraitu. Why reinstate him to the Cabinet—you gave him his only chance, he blew it.
KIBAKI:(In pure paternal passion) Kiraitu is a growing boy, a political midget. This time round I take him to Energy. Henceforth, he shall talk Kilowatts, power rationing and KPLC, not Anglo-leasing. That Bully of Githongo is Pumbavu, bure kabisa. (Miffed) Do people eat soil or speak oxygen?
MICHUKI: Yes, bure kabisa. He rattled the snake.
(Both explode in a hearty laugh. Kibaki grunts till the cup slips and crashes on the carpeted State House floor. Lucy ducks to the Sitting room and is aghast)
LUCY: (Balefully) By the Mountain of Kirinyaga, Baba Jimmy, have you broken the cup again? I am tired of going for shopping, Lucy in Lucy out.
KIBAKI:(Ignoring Lucy, to Michuki ) Don’t mind her. The cat that she loves best passed to glory in her sleep two weeks ago before I went to China. She wore a dark gown for five days. I believe it is the spirit of that cat she fondly called Three Bridesmaid. God bless her soul. Lucy pestered me to declare that the flag should fly at half-mast.(Business-like) Do you love the Press?
MICHUKI: (Fidgeting, Lucy’s eyes close on the ill-fated socks. Michuki too) Why do you ask, Mheshimiwa?
KIBAKI: Poor soul. I ask ‘ do you’ and you ask ‘why’. Did you learn your English under a tree?
MICHUKI: (Breaking into a sweat) Not under a tree, on top of it as bullets flew below it. You don’t remember Mau Mau? Sorry, err, I hate the Press just like the Mungiki, Taliban, Kamjesh and Standard.
(Both men laugh hysterically. Lucy fixedly looks at the cup held by Kibaki)
LUCY: (To Michuki, arms a kimbo) Another broken cup and you ,Michuki, will kiss yourself out of State House just like Matere Keriri. (To herself) He doesn’t know who Rucy is, he should ask Derrick Otieno of KTN. I beat the herro out of him.
KIBAKI: (To Michuki) Michuki, you are my right-hand man. The Press is the problem. Combine the Standard Raid with Nation and Kenya Times and tell hao wapumbavu ‘ Threat to Security’ or ‘ Rattle the snake’ or this time round ‘Rattle the Anaconda’. These journalists are chasing away investors. And they expect the economy to grow.
MICHUKI: Sure, Mheshimiwa. And all after you’ve sold the image of Kenya in China and exported elephants. Presidency is a thankless job.They forget that you are an economist, breathing and dreaming economy. Do they know GDP and your economy recovery scheme? Wao ni bure tu. Wapumbavu.
(Both men give a throaty laugh. Lucy trains her eyes on the cup which crashes to smithereens. Lucy hauls Michuki, Derrick-style, and throws him out. He winces in pain, wipes his coat and limps away to the State House gateman who shakes his head and smiles hideously)
KIBAKI: (Not amused) By the virtue that you are a First Lady, it doesn’t mean that you can always be fast and furious in chasing away my visitors. You forget that there’s a First Lady who came before you. Pumbavu kabisa!
(The two adults size each other up. Lucy springs up in the air and gives Kibaki a deadly kick on his chin. He is dazed. He romps the room in search of the golf-stick which he doesn’t find. Lucy gives another blow, Kibaki bends and it lands on the concrete wall of State House. Lucy screams in agony, Kibaki’s left hand is on the chin)
KIBAKI: (Lovingly) Be a nice woman, Lucy. Is this the way a President and a First Lady should behave?
(Lucy is transfixed. Her palm is still plastered on the wall, red with blood)
Curtains pull down.
All the characters and scenes on this play are purely a creation of a writer’s imagination. Any resemblance with persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental .
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