Dear Bisa: Superman economics
Dear Bisa,
I am under stress Bisa.
The Doc says my BP is worrying him and so are my sugar levels. We can’t even talk about the insomnia. Just to make my point, from the past two weeks, I now know names of all presenters who are on duty between midnight through the thin hours of the morning to dawn on Aljazeera, Sky, the BBC and CNN.
I can’t sleep Bisa.
I can’t think.
Stress and insomnia are the killers and I can’t take them anymore.
I am losing it Bisa. I have tried to remain calm on the surface but inside me, am screaming! I fear cardiac arrest.
These silly nosy journalists have put me on a tight spot light. They want my job but they are not going to have it easily because I have a plan.
I have been seeing a shrink Bisa in the last week.
I have had conversation with the village head, the shopping one, the all knowing one who is supposed to be in Gizmo land. His advice was that I speak to you because apparently you listen and you think above these silly villagers.
From the time we met at the clan bash where we feasted our eyes on the good looks of those bear breasted babes, so much unpleasant has happened. So much stressful.
This silly journalist published a story that I authorised that the village buys me a new bath tab at over 40 Shekels of silver.
Now Bisa, I would like to put a few things straight here. To be level with you.
For starters, its not just a bath tab. It is a state-of-the art self-regulating bath tab, sauna and steam bath in one (whatever that means). They don’t come cheap. Just where do you think I could burn my calories and those of the woman who lives here and the chubby chaps in the next room?
Well, it is true it will cost over 40 Shekels. No one is denying it. Not even my silly PR people but look young man, it is a worthwhile investment to keep people like me happy.
Anywhere in the world, you have to keep your top CEOs happy so that they do the stressful job of managing Mijavi well. These villagers need to buy me a private jet too, pay for my nails to be done, build me a steam bath, pay for my wife’s yoga sessions.
That’s the way.
Bisa, Its not extravagance. Its prudence.
Its simple economics again am afraid. Off course the idiot economists who have majored in the nonsense of western hypocrisy may choose to as usual disagree. They may pull out fancy theories to challenge a good bath tab and lavish style economics.
The silly local economists embrace text book economics. Never think beyond reality and disagree with me. Don’t you wonder why the shopping one picked a high poet to be the village’s been counter? Madeya onse awa!
I on the other hand have a ‘black belt’ in economics. That is what is at play in the bathtub saga.
Here is the truth Bisa. The silly economists wish they were in my position. Put them in my position, they all (well all maybe except the resting banker now running a rest house in a slam) would jump in the bath tab, sauna and steam bath, throwing away the purple text books.
I used to be like them Bisa. Educated, whinny, arrogant, all knowing and penniless. Now am the top Mijavi man. Ruled by an accomplished poet.
You and the villagers still need me Bisa.
You need me because I am your object of coveting. Am your goal post. Your destiny. Your target.
People’s standards of life only grow if they have targets to aim at. Look anywhere, economic progress has never been just an accident. You need heroes. Like superman. Am your superman with a concept of superman economics. Forget the question why bread is more expensive. Just watch and learn.
The villagers must covet someone’s better lifestyle if we are to progress. Its that simple.
My superman economics is only logical. Look at the kids in remote parts of the village. All they want to be is a teacher, a nurse, a cop a Farmers World or Nasfam man because that’s all they see in their lives.
Look, for that reason alone, I chose to have a good bath tub and lavish lifestyle…for the villagers to emulate.
On a very serious note, Bisa, you don’t expect me to plunge myself and my checked shorts into a public hotel tab do you?
Especially if it has no Indonasian tiles. That would be sad and low!
Sadly, the economists and the villagers are now accusing me of being extravagant when all am doing is a noble cause of giving them a chance to have something to emulate!
Coveting is good Bisa. It keeps the economy growing. You see your Mijavi man in a good tub? You want to get one too! The result? Money changing hands, more productive people, jobs!
Long live Superman economics!
Who needs journalists anyway Bisa? Let’s scrape them shall we? We merge them with Health Surveillance Assistants.
They better be providing hygiene and child spacing education than poke their noses in my tab.
I am particularly annoyed that to discredit my name, they went to that large dinosaur of a Banker with an Afro, double breasted suit, the annoying overgrown moustache and white socks.
They tried to portray the dinosaur banker look the perfect and reasonable Mijavi man for the village.
Cheap shot and what a poor choice of roll model.
The man has no taste in lavish life. He doesn’t even know the best wines. He is cheap actually.
Look where his hostel is!! In a low place. A slum!
Now we have the small issue of some of these silly maggots in my office who are complaining that the woman who lives in my house travels with me to other villages and collects Mijavi in the same range as the maggots.
So what Bisa?
You know I have a bad back Bisa. I need a care taker wherever I go. In fact if you look at it closely she is worth every penny. She manages me, Bisa. Therefore by extension she is in fact managing the Mijavi of the village. Osati tima maggots at the office. They are only good at lining at the coffee maker at tea time.
Useless maggots with no skill at all. Let the maggots go play miniature golf! Let them wrestle a giraffe so that we see if there is any skill among these idiots!
I know the maggots had something to do with the silly journalist getting the story. They have a history of scheming and drowning their issues in journalists.
Remember when the village bought a certain 10 point Professor nice colourful kitchen curtains? The maggots jumped onto their fax machines and made a meal out of it.
They never got anywhere then.
The paper was closed. The curtains are still here. The silly boy who photocopied the documents got fired and he is penniless in the forgotten corners of the village. The ten point chap is doing just fine and the villagers forgot about the whole thing eventually. There was so much after that to happen in the village for us to remember curtains. Look, Chambe, Mchape etc…
The want-to-look-bright economists will not get anywhere.
That’s how it works. Us the big good guys win.
Mumva pain!
I had a dream.
I was at a World Bank Summit in one of the village. The Mijavi chap from Indonesia took me to his mansion. It was huge and beultiful. Like the White House. I asked him where he got the money to build the house.
He whispered: “Do you remember the US3bn grant we receive from donors last year?”
I told him I remembered it.
“Well, 10 percent is here,” he whispered, pointing at the mansion.
Three years later, he was visiting my village. He came to my house and was impressed with my house which was by far bigger than his. He asked me where I got the money to build the house.
“Remember the US10m grant we got last year?,” I asked.
“Well, 60 percent is here,” I whispered , pointing at my house.
I remembered the wise words of my teacher at Jordan Valley when he had caught me with stolen maize from his fellow teacher’s garden. Instead of punishing me or returning it. He we to house with it and did what I don’t know.
His words were:
‘Tose tili balyezi’. (We are all greedy)
So long,
Patapata
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