In a land where people eat politics for breakfast and dinner, we’ve been busy praying for showers of blessings to descend upon our politicians. Seeing that the sun has been in its full wattage lately, my old man, Grandpa Richard, decided he’d pray for literal showers instead. If what the weatherman is proclaiming is anything to go by, it appears like my old man asked for an inch and was given a mile.
Remember the story of that boy who was a pathological liar and kept crying wolf? It seems as though Kenya’s weatherman was cut from the same cloth as that lad. He (the weatherman) has made prophecies in the past that never came to be. So when I heard that he had predicted another El-Nino, I dismissed it as a bluff.
But I started taking the warning seriously when I saw the government clearing roadside drainages with the ferocity of a teenage girl trying to clean her parents’ house before they come back from work. So I ran it by Grandpa Richard to discover whether there was an iota of truth in the doomsday-scenario predictions that are vouched to happen this month.
Just the mention of the word El-Nino made the frail greybeard recoil in his skin. He sorrowfully narrated how many years ago, when most of my comrades were tootling tots barely out of their nappies, the great El-Nino of 98 struck upon the land.
“If any of your comrades has annoyed the Good Lord lately, mostly with their marijuana-smoking habits, I advise they make peace with Him to avoid being struck by thunder—literally,” warns my old man. It happened in 1998; more than 600 people lost their lives. Millions of livestock, including Grandpa’s prized bull, drowned in the floods.
My comrades are heeding the El-Nino warning with worrisome gravitas too. They are planning a vigil outside Anniversary Towers so as to petition HELB officials to disburse their student loans immediately to help them plan for the downpour. No, my comrades don’t intend to purchase canoes or even umbrellas. They just want to stock enough beer in their rooms to last them until the next general elections.
There is a theory orbiting our campuses that if two or three lie together, then they’ll be able to keep warm during the El-Nino. In my books, buying an extra duvet is more effective and way cheaper than getting a girlfriend for the cold season. Just because Noah stocked his ark with a pair from each species does not mean you should couple up every time it as much as drizzles.
During El-Nino may be the best time to introduce my old man to Instagram. In order to obey the weather, comrades will have no choice but to cover up those acres of bare skin. The raunchy callipygian figures that appear on Instagram will be replaced with decent photos of girls dressed up like cabbage dealers from Mukurweini.
And did I mention no male comrade is planning on taking a shower for the entire period that the rains will last?
Take care, comrades.