Illustration: Joe Ngari, Daily Nation

Illustration: Joe Ngari, Daily Nation

Two years ago, my old man, Grandpa Richard, suspected that something extremely fishy was going on with my comrades. Relying on his extensive experience in rodent-sniffing, the greybeard smelled a fat and overfed rat among my colleagues and approached me to assist him blow the whistle.

“Why don’t you do the work by yourself?” I had enquired.

“I am more comfortable directing this operation from the sidelines,” my old man had explained. “I do not wish to touch your comrades even with a ten-foot pole. It’s simply for cerebral hygiene purposes, you’ll understand with time.”

Grandpa Richard warned me that my job would be tough, and I assured him that I had the cojones to handle it.

True to his suspicions, I found out that the entire system was rotten to the core. The ‘big fish’ pillaged and plundered at whim. You would expect that the ‘small fish’ would be furious and demand for action, but no. They actually admired the brazen looting and worshipped their tormentors.

Even though I lacked the support of the victims, I vowed to soldier on and clean out the putrid filth from within the comradeship. My sleuth-work eventually paid when I uncovered a fraud of elephantine proportions. Then the monkey games begun.

Someone had raided the morality purse and made away with millions, leaving my comrades bereft of ethics and running low on principles and virtues. It was my job to uncover the master-minds behind the worst case of moral corruption ever witnessed in recent years.

I did catch the culprits, but the elements of moral corruption were determined to fight back tooth and nail.

What was shocking was their vehement refusal to recognize their roles in the scandals and assume responsibility. They instead pushed the blame towards the opposition, powerful elements within the house on the hill and a mysterious boogeyman who ran a vicious mafia-like cartel. Heck, they even blamed God and the El-Nino rains! (Read: LIKE WAIGURU, IT’S NEVER OUR FAULT)

A plot-twist was soon to follow. Tables turned and Grandpa Richard and I, the seekers of truth, were branded the bad guys. We were accused of perpetrating vicious and unwarranted attacks against my comrades’ character. Our campaign, they said, was a calculated evil; vindictive and ill-intentioned.

But that never deterred me. Instead, I turned the heat so high that those who could not stand it had to get out of the kitchen. I knew I would be vindicated some day.

And so it came as a pleasant surprise when I read about an explosive affidavit that lends credence to the charges I’ve been labeling upon my comrades for two years now. The damning affidavit confirms that indeed my comrades are guilty of moral corruption. The cardinal sins include smoking marijuana, fornication, sports gambling, inebriation and asininity.

The veracity of the report has not yet been substantiated, so I’m holding my horses.

Grandpa Richard, on the other hand, is praying for the affidavit to be proved a phony. “I am not ready to face the fact that we are almost losing an entire generation to moral corruption,” he mourns.

Lukorito Jones

When I'm not busy chasing around stories for my quasi-journalism career, you'll find me dabbling in fiction and perfecting my deer-dancing and goat-screaming skills.

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