Wednesday, 13 October 2004

The Dangers Of Wishful Thinking

See, here’s the thing. If you sit and think that life is a bit dull, and that you’d like a bit of nuttiness to liven it up, the nuttiness will arrive. And it’s not always good. A rumour went out that the Chieftainess was returning to the project, to speak to the local communities. From 10am this morning people have been gathering under the trees. Some small wizened old men in khaki uniforms and peaked caps came into the office and stripped it of furniture. I asked someone who they were. HRH’s bodyguards. I don’t think so. The rumour about the Chieftainess turned out to be LIES, which is quite common here. It is a visit from some government ministers, to speak to ‘the people’ about anti-corruption. Now, I can see why this might be pertinent in the towns, but out here in the bush? These villagers have no money or means. Who are they going to corrupt? Hey Billy, I’ll give you two chickens if you get your sister to sleep with me. There are hundreds of people sitting under trees. And on the furniture they have nicked from the office. There is an overzealous man on the back of a truck with a microphone. Why is it that people on microphones are really shouty? They’ve already got amplification. He has nearly gone tits up. He yanked on the cable too hard. The cable didn’t come with him. This I know because I am in the office where they have plugged in the amps and things. Maybe he is a comedy act? This bloke is beginning to sound like a monkey. All I can hear is Oooo OOO hooOOO oo-hoo!! He has a band on the truck with him. This I am scared by. Men with drumkits, and I don’t mean djembes. A stray oompa poompa has interjected Shoutyman. Small children are beginning to wail. It’s practically carnival. The electric drums and electric guitars are crashing away. I have had the foresight to unplug the laptop; there will surely be a power surge. In fact it’s quite cloudy today, there might be an end to the power altogether, hee hee. Actually the music is not too bad. Typical African plinky plink music. It’s a bit like the Eurovision though. The tune might be ok, but you’ve no bloody idea what they’re singing about. And you’d feel a bit of plank dancing about to ‘Now, now ladies and gentlemen, don’t be trying to buy your driving licences. Take the test like everyone else. Don’t accept money from politicians for their vote. Ask for a gun instead. Woo woo anti-corruption!’ At least the music is not as bad as what my brother in Holland has to put up with. He says his neighbour plays stuff that is like ‘cabaret versions of Julio Iglesias, in Dutch, with extra poom-poom-poom and a voice like the guy has woken up with serious catarrh and his lad caught in his fly’.