Dear Judge Mbadwa,
My Lord, I come before this court today to tender a formal dispute over a severe case of administrative oversight. I have spent the last 48 hours squinting at the newly released list of diplomatic appointments, searching for the name John Citizen.
I checked under London. I checked under Washington. I even checked under the smaller, more exotic outposts where the local climate requires an entirely new wardrobe. Nothing.
My Lord, I am utterly devastated. Have the clerks at the State House lost their ink? I have spent the better part of the Mapuya 2.0 dispensation practising the delicate art of political choir-singing. My vocal cords are raw from chanting the praises of the People’s Demagogic Party (PDP). I have clapped for the K300 fuel reduction as if it were a biblical miracle.
I have defended the gassing of the opposition’s Cockerel at the Mausoleum as a necessary spiritual purification. Yet, when the diplomatic gravy train pulls out of the station, I am left standing on the platform, holding nothing but a broken megaphone and my own loyalty.
My lord, I am Mapuya’ biggest cheerleader and he loves me, too, yet dzina langa lasowa bwanji? If simpler men can be sent to represent the republic abroad yet they could not master the ‘Mapuya Oyee!’ chorus, why has your favourite independent counsel been denied a passport to luxury?
But allow me, My Lord, to dry my tears and focus on a much grander performance presently being staged by our economic central directors.
The Nyasaland Reserve Bank has officially stepped to the podium to announce our new financial anchor. Forget traditional exports, My Lord; we are told the central bank is now firmly relying on gold purchases and the rapid expansion of the mining sector to bring in our much-needed foreign exchange.
My Lord, I stand in awe of this sudden leap of faith into the underworld!
During the high-season of political rallies, we were led to believe that the administration had immediate, pre-packaged and sophisticated solutions to the forex crisis. But now, the grand strategy has been revealed: we are going to dig our way out of bankruptcy.
There is only one slight hitch in this golden gospel, My Lord. Our mining sector is still in its absolute infancy. It is a toddler being asked to lift a boulder. It is currently choked by monumental structural bottlenecks, legal hurdles, infrastructural deficits and a distinct lack of specialised laboratories to test samples.
Essentially, My Lord, the central bank has looked at the empty state vaults, looked at the long queues of businesses begging for US Dollars and decided that our primary economic strategy is to wait for citizens panning for dust in muddy rivers to save the local currency.
We went from promising high-tech economic turnarounds to relying on the luck of the shovel.
It is the classic Nyasaland minibus logic: the conductor leans out the window shouting passionately that the bus is heading straight to a wealthy destination, but when you look closely, the vehicle is sitting on bare bricks, it has no tires, and the driver is still looking around the village to borrow a battery.
So My Lord, as I pack away my unread diplomatic credentials, I move that we award the Reserve Bank the Grand Prize for raising hope for the hopeless. If they cannot give us immediate forex, they can at least continue giving us these highly entertaining golden promises.
And as for my missing embassy posting, I shall remain here in the dust, practising my scales for the next reshuffle. Clearly, my praise-singing was not loud enough to be heard by people who matter. But I still defend Mapuya for his sobriety.
Respectfully submitted,
John Citizen
