Yellow Celebrations

Bringing you a little sunshine on a grey Kampala day.

 

Ode on My MP

*Thank you Dr. Seuss

 

My MP is a lousy man

With a big old stomach and a brand new van.

My MP thinks he is a god

And the rest of us are wretched sods,

 

To my town he came one morn’

And loudly he did blow his horn

‘Vote for me!’ he did say,

‘I’ll lead you to a brand new day.’

 

‘Vote for me for a better life

For better roads, for a better wife!

Vote for me; you’ll never see

That ugly thing called poverty!’

 

‘Look here! Look here! I’m the man you want!

Look here at me I’m not as gaunt

As the guy you elected the other day;

The guy who led you all astray.’

 

‘For me, I can even dance the jig

And I’m generous: here’s a goat and a pig

Take them, slaughter, feast away

I’ll lead you to a brand new day!’

 

So, drunk on change and nyama choma

We voted for him and it was all over

It was all over is all I can say

It is still over to this day

 

A better life? Ha! In my dreams.

A better wife? You ask just Dean,

Whose mukyala packed her bags and left

With all the riches in his nest.

 

‘To enact new laws to protect yourself,

To protect your family and your wealth.’

That’s what the MP said back then

He lied to us! Let’s lock him in a den,

With his goat and his pig and an angry hen!

 

On the radio I did hear last night,

My MP prepping for a fight.

‘My voters want back their land

I’ll take up arms, I’ll lead a band’

 

‘A band of poor frustrated men

Whose land was stolen way back then

By foreigners not of their tribe.

Will chase them out and whip their hide.’

 

I could not believe my ears

I broke down in loud angry tears

Is this what he meant by ‘a brand new day?’

Is this how he planned to have his way?’

 

Early this morning I went to his house

Nothing stirred not even a mouse.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I knocked on his gate.

Wake up! Wake up! This cannot wait!

 

Two years ago I gave you my vote,

To change this world; to rock this boat.

Not to return us to days of woe

To days of pain, to days of war!

 

Wake up you fat old fool! I cried.

None should say that I haven’t tried

To take you to the straight and narrow

To stop your path to hate and sorrow.

 

The gate opened and out there came

My MP’s maid, head hung in shame

‘Sorry, no help for you today

MP has just gone away.’

 

‘Away to London for four weeks

On a holiday of cake and sweets

And merry making in the land of the Queen

Sorry, today he can’t be seen.’

 

To London he can afford to go?

Doesn’t he see? Doesn’t he know?

Those whose votes put him in the House

Are now poorer than the poorest church mouse!

 

Oh, what can I do? What can I say?

How can I take the shame away?

The shame of voting for a lousy man

With a big old stomach and a brand new van?

The man who thinks he is a god

And the rest of us are wretched sods.