The artist and the political dimwit

Esteemed Republicans, sometimes we unnecessarily allow ourselves to sink lower than we should. This I have concluded from an encounter with a birdbrain I ran into at the weekend.

I had strolled out of my gutter tin-house, enduring the searing sun to pluck a few groceries from off a supermarket shelf more than a kilometre away.

It was heavenly walking into the shop. The sudden drop in temperature, courtesy of the air-conditioning, was a paradisiacal reprieve from the dehumanising heat that had ‘lit’ my balding scalp beyond water’s boiling point.

I took my time along a few rows, not to pick as many items as others did, but just to enjoy a little more of the cold air caressing my dehydrated skin. Once I had had enough, I gathered my favourite bread and small groceries.

At the till, a reusable plastic bag I brought with me from home added to the day’s savings, cutting back a cool K50—that is a cool loaf of bread on every fifth shopping trip!

Now, the whole shopping delight was spoilt by this man with a head the size of my fist. In a black suit, a greasy collared oily blue shirt and black oversized shoes, he wished to deceive me with an overdone smile, addressing me as ‘Big Man.’

In equally oversized pretence, he told how he has always thought of using his ‘political connections’ to find me a way to a political high table.

And like all people of his sort, he ended by climbing down to reality to ask for K200!

He walked away with his head down when I told I know him so well from his long time political foolery, hoisting political party leader’s portraits at opinionated rallies.

Had he had the connections he claims to have, would he be living on begging by malls?

I had to walk the whole way to the supermarket to save a few hundred kwacha, how could I ‘lose’ a K200 to him?

I turned away from him and used my savings to support art; I gave it to an artist who was entertaining shoppers with his guitar! n