My name is Swindler, son of Conman. We’re having general elections next year in the country of goons. I thus better start campaigning even if the electoral commission hasn’t declared it yet.
Given this is the season for reaping where nobody sowed through ballot box, I’m prepared to serve the goons. Though I deserve no honour, I still want to be referred to as honorable Conman. No way I can let this chance slip by.
I’ve already put strategies in place. Firstly, I’ve already acquired seven college degrees from Commonwealth Nonexistent University, Hazard, and Eden-bug, Open University of the World (OUW), New York and Make-believe University Bangarole, India.
I also have already talked to corrupt Indian and Arab tycoons to sponsor my campaigns so that after I become an MP, I’ll see to it that they invest in Goonland. Given that I’m going to become a law maker, I’ll see to it that we enact favourable laws for them to be able to do capital flight business comfortably.
To begin with, I’ll donate money to youth and women clubs and some schools in my constituency. My Dubai based Arab friend will pour money like crazy to bribe all members of select committee at the tune of 500,000/- per head. I‘m sure they’ll swallow the bait without any question.
Nonetheless, I was not mentioned in EPA and Richmond Deep Green Finance, Meremeta, Kagoda and other vampiric scams (Multibillions scandals in Tanzania), although I got my cut from them. Don’t tell anybody and when you read this make sure you do it silently. My cut will be employed on bribing sippers and their wives, who like free clothes like Khangas, T-shirts, BBQ and other nonsense. Mind you. I’m neither a shark nor a whale, though I am a swindler.
I’ve already gotten some fake journalists that will decorate my name in their newspapers. My slogan is: “Hither comes God-chosen saviour that will deliver sippers to Canaan in the country of barbeque and wine.”
I’m a smart guy. Despite spending centuries without entering God’s houses, I’ve already teamed up with some churches and mosques that will drum and trumpet my name: Hon. Swindler Conman PhD Phil, MA in Abracadabra and Hypothetical Thinking, BSc. Lies, Dip. in Corruption and Mafia, Dip. in Mass Terrorizing, MBA (Masters in Money-making), etc., and the MP for Tummy constituency.
See, all my degrees need a genius, especially MA in Lies and Hypocritical Thinking. Only a few fellas have acquired it. Those are, Ben Makapa and Daniel arab Moi. Others that are genius so as to be awarded this degree are Bob Mugabe, Jack Zuma, Yoweri M7, and Moi Kibaki.
You know what? My strategies are bigger than a mountain. My slogan is new zeal, new love (Zero) and new big things. Surely, sippers will believe in my make-believe stuffs by voting for me to their peril. To begin with, I’ll start sharing free drinks with them. I’ll greet them by mentioning their names as I embrace each of them to prove I love them. I’ll also make sure my Toyota VX becomes sipper’s town bus. It’ll take them wherever they like. My memsahib will form an NGO for the defence of their wives. She’ll fight to see to it that men do home chores such as floor mopping, nail doing and washing babies without forgetting to wear skirts.
So too, I’ll form “Swindler’s Anthropological Society of Thoughts” (SAST) to defend all creatures including sharks and whales without forgetting albinos and elderly. I’ll raise money for supporting students and patients in the constituency. Hither, I’ll buy 500 mosquito nets and 200 desks to support rural forgotten primary schools and dispensaries. What’s more, I’ll buy some balls and uniforms of which I’ll wear one as I play soccer with the youths I used to fear like HIV/AIDS. During this match, my ten thousand buck Rolex will be left home to avoid being snatched by these man-made petty robbers.
I’ve already fixed the tribal elders. I’ll bribe their head. Wonder not when you see me in traditional regalia signifying being an elder of the tribe and a District Youth Commander of the party.
My mistress Concubine aka Sexworker with whom I’ve a boy, will be bribed so that she keeps mum. That bastard I disowned will secretly become my darling baby. To nicely corner her, I’ll find an international school for her son. This will convince her that I’m preparing him for becoming a leader in future. I’ll promise her to send her son to London for advanced studies.
As for stupid farmers, they’ll be promised good price for their produces. I’ll loan a page from Mizengwe Pindu the PM of Goonland. Like him, I’ll promise a tractor and hallow for every farmer. So too, I’ll promise clean and safe water. Hither is where my Dubai Arab comes in. To make off with their votes, I’ll invite students from Water Resource College to survey the whole projects.
Another strategy is defending the chair of our party for whatever nonsense he commits. To convince him, I’ve already threatened to sue whoever opposes him. In so doing, I tremble like a Maasai fighter when offended. I swear by all gods real and fake.
Though many will think this is daydreaming, I’ll make it to the Parliament. Firstly, I’m beautiful like Njaa Kaya. And I’m just a boy of 65 years old who smiles even at funeral. Secondly, I’m God-chosen. Thirdly I command sweet language on top of being a good performer. Fourth, I’m the man of the people (Don’t ask if there’s a man of hyenas). Fifth, I’ve brought peace in people’s pockets in the constituency.
You know what? I still have a lot more in store for you. So shall my head help me nicely. I’ll present my policies on how to rob voters of their votes and rights in the name of multiparty theft, sorry politics. Mind you, these tricks are brand new. They’ve nary been applied anywhere by anybody, except the man and a half: me and only me!
As for today, I am off to preparing my nets ready to catch goons.