The Campaign Trail

Chapter Twelve

55 Chapter Twelve ampaign fever got to its peak on the last market day of Ndindi village. Jampassdie was prepared for campaigns and ready to fight against all odds. This was his political stronghold and he had decided to hold his campaign rally there. The people of Ndindi had a religious attachment to the ideals of the National Liberation Party. When the market was full to the brim, the crowd swaying this way and that way, the village usher got to the rock, which served as a podium, and made the usual call for order: “Ooooooooo market, listen!” he shouted. “Ooooooooo market, listen!” He was carrying the traditional Kwifon spear, meaning that he was addressing the public with the authority of the Fon; so everyone was bound to respect the order. In modern times, when few persons gave gifts to the Fon, he got revenue for the running of the palace by using the spear at ceremonies. Every politician who needed Kwifon’s intervention went and gave a token to invite the usher. This is what Jampassdie had done. After obtaining independence, and with the passing of time, President Utum Tar had neglected the Fon. That function of Auxiliary of Administration had been dropped with repeated cabinet shake-ups. With little sources of income, the Fon had realized that he could, in a multi-party system, make money during rallies using the spear. Any political party that needed this instrument of discipline, to run its rally, went to the palace to obtain the Fon’s authorisation; this is what Jampassdie did on this day. After this call to order, Mr Jampassdie mounted on the natural stage. C 56 Today, he was at the apex of his inspiration. Knowing the frustrations of his people, he touched on key issues that could move even very cold people to exhilaration. Generally, he never prepared his speeches, but when he mounted the pulpit he spoke like one reading from a written script. “Fellow Kutumians, the election day is just a few hours away when everyone is going to free himself or herself from the bondage of the tyrant. Through the ballot box, you decide the future of the nation. Ask yourselves why we all pay taxes to run the state, yet the treasury of the land is in the hands of a privileged few. Why is it that the sun is shining on all of us, yet some people think that they can lock us up in darkness, so that the rays cannot touch us? Our president is preaching democracy and has given the word a special definition of his own. In his understanding, democracy is in his pocket; it is like grains of groundnuts in his pockets. From time to time, he brings out a few grains to give us, treating Kutumians like little, crying babies who can be tricked with a few grains of democracy. He throws the last grains into his mouth. We are on the eve of elections, yet more and more political parties are being created. This is a trick to derail our attention. Beware of these new false prophets who will be claiming to take you to glory land, which is nothing short of the tyrant’s dungeon. These are the multiple voices of the king, for they are all at his service. Some of our militants have fallen prey to the temptation of the tyrant’s bank notes. Know that this is temporary salvation. Our party remains one and indivisible. There is nothing like a progressive wing of the N.L.P. This divisive strategy, put in place by one of us, is just an idle thought, motivated by the corrupt regime and facilitated by greed. Its agents are already out with packets of shiny notes to share with you, to buy over your consciences. When they 57 come, take the money because it is the tax payer’s money. But remember to hold tight to your good conscience. After all, how can someone use your own money to buy favours from you? When I talk about the tax payers’ money, you all understand the torture that our taxation policy subjects us to. Even an old mother, who cannot meet her survival needs, pays tax. I know that if this regime continues to rule, it won’t be long before you are taxed for defecating. This is a fact. You are all paying for water...