Episode 47
Bernard Junior continues with the imitation of the ‘minister’.
“Oh, I like-a it ve’ly much when dey call me. Ek-is-‘n-Lensie. It gives-a me a feeling of-a unlimited power,” the ‘minister’ says transfixed in his own power showing a clenched fist and turning to Pandeni. “Now-a jou-a said you had-a a plobrem to-a discuss-a wit-a me?”
“Yes, Mister Minister. Teachers are complaining about their salaries. They haven’t had a raise since Independence.”
After a pause.
“Tell-a dem tiechas I haven’t forgotten about-a dem. I’ll see-a what-a I can do before the next erection.’ I mean-a we are-a all-a partaners in education, aren’t we mistera…”
“…Pandeni Sekulu, Mister Minister.”
“That-a is-a right, mister Sekulu. Tell-a dem that-a they-a must-a be patient or otherwise I’ll-a be forced to leplace-a dem with-a voluntary tiechas from-a overseas. There-a are-a many English-speaking tiechas just waiting to come-a to dis-a countly.
I can-a trow dem anywhere in dis countly, even de gatkant of the world and they’ll go, something you people don’t want to do. In that-a way I’ll-a be able to get-ta rid of quite-a number of tiechas like-a jourself, coming drunk-a to school ev’ly day. Why are you tiechas drinking so much?” the ‘minister’ insists.
“It is the English we have to teach the children, which you have introduced into our schools, sir.. They say they haven’t been in exile overseas like you to have learnt the English language. That is why they always have to be in a drunken motion to be able to speak English,” Pandeni answers truthfully.
“No-a wonder the bloody whole countly gets up babalas and with a hangover every morning, you tiechas are-a setting a verly bad-a example,” the ‘minister’ asserts.
Gloria gets an idea and rejoins the parody, picking up an imaginary telephone.
“Your Excellency, there is an urgent telephone call for you,” she says holding out the phone for him.
“That-a can wait. I am busy with-a dis-a drunk-a tiecha,” the ‘ministe’r replies angrily.
Insistent.
“But, sir. The person is calling from a tickey-box at Hosea Kutaku International Airport. He said he is from a donor agency in Sweden,” the ‘secretary’ informs him.
“Now-a donor agency can’t wait. Donors are-a always welcome. He comes as if he was sent from Above. (Moves to take phone) I need money to clear up this educational mess I brought onto the nation. (Speaks in phone) Hello.
Whose-a speaking? (Recognizes voice) Joseph Ry;ander, cousin of the Swedish ambassador to my countly, you say? Yes…I know him ve’ly well. He is an old friend since the liberation struggle…No, plobrim…he has been behaving ve’ly good…yes, handing us money when ever he can…yes-a like-a Father Christmas,” the ‘minister’ says looking at Pandeni, who puts up a hand like a school child. “Just-a moment,” the ‘minister’ says closing the ear-piece, to Pandeni. “What-a is-a it dis-a time?”
“Sir, may I please leave the room?”
“Yes, go. And tell-a missus Re Loux she must-a give-a you something to drink,” the ‘minister’ suggests.
“No need for that, sir. I brought my own drink,” the teacher representative says quickly moving around the corner to relieve himself.
The ‘minister’ continues with his telephonic conversation.
“Damn, tiechas. They are-a like-a children. Yes, I have one right here in my-a offies…drunk-a as-a lord…yes, it was him sho so rudely interrupted our conversation…Now-a where-a was I? Oh, yes. My Ministry needs aid, lots of it…What-a is-a det? NO. I don’t-a have-a AIDS, like-a de seven other million Africans…I said financial aid. In return? Full recognition in the press.
I will-a personally arrange det-a di bilateral agreement is-a signed in public on TeeVee. Yes, we do sign agreements with ev’ly Dick-Tom-and-Foreigner, for de good of de countly,” the ‘minister’ implies with Pandeni returning to his seat.
“Yes, bring enough money for-a education and-a irrigation…we need money to plant more Mahangu…What’s-a det? I irritate you? No, no, no.” I said irrigation…No, I am not-a too busy to see you…Come-a straight to my offies when you arrive in town. I will-a give-a jou redcarpeta treatment when you come…yes, like an African head of state…that’s right, with pullulu dances and all…yes, and a little Namibian flag for your to take home…See you,” the ‘minister’ says handing back the phone to Gloria to focus on Pandeni. “Det-a is an old friend of ours and the nation.”
A pissed off Pandeni.
“But Mister Minister, this is so unfair. It took us four months just to talk to you and that man on the phone gets an appointment arranged from a public phone?” he explodes.
“Protocol, my friend. Priorities in the national interest first. Do you get it?” the ‘minister’ demands to know.
“Yes, sir,” Pandeni replies subserviently.
Bernard becomes himself again, putting Pandeni’s hat back on his head before turning to hid mother.
“With those answers we left his office,” he asserts and sits down on a chair opposite his friend and colleague.
“And they say the Colonialists were worse,” Gloria spits poison for the last time.
“With those people we at least knew where we stood,” Pandeni says, holding up the bottle. “Hotnot-se-forget-me-not. Weg wereld. Kom brandewyn,” he says gulping from it.
Throwing down his satchel.
“I have a good mind and resign from teaching and become a street vendor like my mother. She does not have to be bothered with red tape and the other crap that goes with teaching,” he says angrily.
“That is what I wanted to talk to you about, son. You taking over this business. You will be a rich man in no time,” Gloria encourages her son.
“In that case, I will take over the stall.”
“When?” Gloria asks expectantly.
Bernard gets up.
“As from right now,” he says with Gloria untying her apron, putting it around Bernard’s waist.
“Now you are talking like a sane man,” she says producing a chef cap from behind the counter and puts it onto his head. “Oh, I am so proud of you, my son,” she says kissing him on a cheek.
“Thank you, Mother,” Bernard replies moving behind the counter.
Gloria proudly and admirably looks at her son.
“I wish your father had still been alive to have witnessed this moment,” she says getting an idea. “Wait a second,” she says taking out a camera from her handbag. “Let me capture this on film for prosperity.”
The former teacher poses with a big spoon in hand. She takes the photo. He calls out loudly with many people starting to converge on the stall.
“Come to Bernie’s Den for the sweetest, juiciest, best home made porridge this side of the equator. The Porridge King is waiting….”
END