Simple economics: when supply is low, demand is high and price should be high
Dear Bisa,
I am still on Tchuthi.
We are on the beach at every break of dawn and the fall of dusk. Basking in the sun and watching the sun set. Good and stress free life. Remember, AIDS is not the killer. Stress is.
Here, at least, I am away from my village headaches and the 3 loud mouthed school teachers and JKK. I am finally away from Wandale and the idiots in red garments. Raqif can’t touch me neither can Dick the burnt Reverend.
Off course I am with C and her ‘Military Combat’ swim suit.
We are somewhere along the forbidden kingdom. We travelled here with her large pink hat. The one I love. She carried stacks of sun oils and lipstick.
My JB and Hennesy by my side. A nice Beach pair of shorts, Egyptian Flip flops. I am just happy to be sipping these margaritas away.
I miss nothing in the village. Well, almost nothing apart from Timp the bent dark as coal TV verbose and empty chap…and his eighties suits and the Eagles on his neck ties. This man must watch Oprah or watch AVB of Chelsea to learn. He must watch, take notes and learn.
She hasn’t stopped yelling at me, Bisa.
The verbal diarrhoea will never stop. When she speaks, even toads come out of her mouth. Watch the wrinkled forehead! To buy peace, I send her shopping. Shopping until she drops dead.
Bisa, you can imagine those large red beutiful lips. Breathing fire in my face, hot steam blowing in my face as she yells. I have tried what you advised. No much pleasure so far. As per your suggestion, I try to give her the silent treatment by coiling up like a Bongololo and face the other way in bed.
She hears nothing of it and reacts by engaging tug-of-war, dragging the duvet and my pyjamas to get my attention or achieve distant and irritation.
I am being abused Bisa. I feel like a little worm stuck to a hook. I feel like a lamb. I am being harassed, jostled and dragged in the mud by my villagers on the one hand and the large woman who lives in my house has me for breakfast everyday.
Its times like this that I wish ‘lipstick’ changed name. How come even when she applies the lipstick, her lips still move and she still verbally abuses me? I wish her lips could ‘stick’
She wants us to stop over in Bologna for new Mascara, ‘Foundation’ and Shower Gel. We also must so that she picks up new frocks for her wardrobe.
Forget that Bisa but this week was fun. This week, I bent a few village rules and decreed a very modest rise in price to pay for the essential liquid.
I did not break rules or laws per say as Wanapo the bent young and silly lawyer with ugly neck ties will have you believe. I ‘just ignored guidelines’. I am the law Bisa. Everything else is just coloured bubbles.
I did it with pleasure Bisa. I got tired of the old prices. They were boring and just how else were we going to maintain the nice queus? They are good for my villagers’ social bonding. Just like the bonfire. We are keeping our people from the village alleys. The villagers tell each other productive stories on ques other draping in red garments and looting Wavu’s Hawker.
Bisa, like I said, my villagers are daft, thick or dim wits. Wanapo, the silly chap with silly and flashy silk neck ties too may not be as bright as I thought.
Look at the delirium they have slid into after a simple price hike? They are acting like possessed men yet this is expected. At least by bright chaps like me.
Let me school the villagers Bisa. This is hardly Rocket Science. Simple economics. Remember the theory of demand and supply? Concentrate. Educate yourself Bisa.
When supply is low (the theory is silent as the lambs as to how supply became low), demand becomes high. When demand becomes high, we coin the term ‘hot cake’ and the price has to simply go up because there are many takers!
Wouldn’t you raise the price Bisa if these idiots line up at your house for days, spending nightst out there to pawn those fake Slazenger Chinese golf clubs of yours? Its natural. You would raise the stakes by raising the price and sell it to the highest bidder!
Like C says, Asafuna Asiye!
These idiots are silly. They want the men in cussocks and silly wigs at Pakachere to set prices of trade! How silly is that Bisa? Imagine Bisa you are out at night and you feel the need to engage ‘an essential prostitute’. The prostitute rates happen to be beyond your valuation of the merchandise. Do you go to court or stage a protest? You walk away.
Amene sakwanitsa asiye!
Bisa, the villagers have the solution to this issue in their sites and its all in their control if they decide to save time and see it my way. The solution does not require taking Wanapo and that Hitler moustache of his to the Kachere tree to argue over silly guidelines or small inner circles and committees on the essential liquids.
Kachere tree would be a long and exhaustive battle. One which I will eventually win. Justice will never be on the menu. We removed it a couple years ago. Am surprised you haven’t noticed. The concerned villagers will lose. They will still buy the essential liquid at my rates. Wanapo will get his silly grin, neck ties, and Hitler moustache picture in the paper…everyone will be happy. Well, almost everyone, apart from the concerned villagers.
If the concerned villagers are indeed serious about re negotiating the price, all they have to do is REDUCE THE DEMAND for the essential liquid Bisa.
How? Stop queuing for the damn thing and stay home. We will have over supply and prices will plummet.
Ken the purse keeper agrees.
Damn, am a Genius!
Look Bisa, now Joy wants me to come back to the village “to take care of the issues”.
Ndine attendant wa liquid ine?
I bet she has not heard of the internet.
I run my village through Facebook! The only problem is there is no ‘dislike’ on Facebook but it suits me fine!
I had a dream Bisa. A good one.
I was home. I ordered three tubes of super glue. I secretly emptied C’s lipstick tube and put some super glue in it.
Through my agents we sneaked in JKK and Joy’ house and did the same.
They must have all applied my lipstick because I had peaceful sleep the following weeks.
Now that’s real lipstick.
Funny and liberating things dreams.
So Long,
Patapata
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