Bringing you a little sunshine on a grey Kampala day.
Want to sleep; can't sleep
*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.