There’s a new sheriff in a nearby town and his name is John Pombe Magufuli. The Tanzanian President has taken Africa by storm, providing a breath of fresh air where taking in foul air is the norm.
Provided you don’t live under a rock, you’ve probably heard about Mr Magufuli’s fiscal policies that have left Africa flabbergasted. From scrapping Independence Day celebrations to making impromptu visits to a poorly managed hospital and firing its directors, the former chemistry teacher clearly demonstrates the leadership qualities that Kenyans can only dream about. He has also significantly reduced the cash used on foreign travels, jailed people who report to work late, and bought hospital beds.
If our government were run by Magufuli’s standards, all our leaders would be overcome by guilt, repent and confess their sins in one of their many prayer crusades before frog-marching themselves to jail.
While the rest of the country is living on the breadline, my comrades at the university are having a whale of a time with the government’s and their parents’ money and this should be brought to a moratorium.
My old man, Grandpa Richard, thinks that if every comrade of mine were to borrow a leaf from the new leader, then a new generation of Kenyans will rule this land come 2030.
Though he has no figures to back it up, Grandpa Richard estimates that 50 per cent of my comrades’ income ends up paying school fees for the barman’s children.
To curb this wastage, Grandpa had recommended that comrades be stopped from boozing altogether until they aree 35 and eligible to run for the presidency. But I told him that was a bad move, as denying booze to my comrades is synonymous with sliding the country to anarchy. Oh, the ruckus they’ll cause! Instead, we’ll need to confine their inebriation to their bedsitters. Why waste money in a club when you can dance to music from your Chinese phone with speakers loud enough to awaken the dead?
Money spent on Internet bundles would send Tanzania’s President frothing with anger. Here, the greybeard was of the opinion that we take away their cell phones and reintroduce letter-writing and telephone booths of yore. But I protested, arguing that that would be akin to genocide.
My comrades wouldn’t last five minutes in this cold, hard world without their smartphones.
Instead, I recommended we restrict pornographic sites. My comrades consume gigabytes of prurient adult material. Restricting these sites will save so much money that world hunger could be a thing of the past.
Fornication is another area that, if tamed, the savings incurred would cause the shilling to trade at five shillings against the dollar.
Remember Grandpa Richard’s proposal of tying my comrades’ tubes and only untying them upon production of a marriage certificate? He still insists it’s the only option that will save our country immense expenses on illegal abortions, flavoured condoms and morning-after pills.