Illustration: Joseph Ngari, Daily Nation

You spent the past three weeks or so covered in a fine layer of dirt, but somehow you’ve decided to break the unholy pact you had set with the devil about crucifying hygiene.

Today you took a historic bath and actually brushed off the ubiquitous previous week’s miraa from your teeth.

For the first time since your freshman week, you have ditched the “return to the pub” T-shirt and put on a shirt. With a tie to boot. Though your trousers still expose  your multi-coloured underwear because you never mastered how to use a belt, today I’m cutting you some slack.

For the ladies, it is refreshing to note that today you didn’t ape the socialites by dressing as though you’re hunting for a mate.

The most powerful man on earth will be in the city any moment now, and you have to look impeccable! Even the mounds of hair below your armpits, which team with more wildlife than the Maasai Mara, has now been mowed clean.

My old man, Grandpa Richard, commends your efforts so far, and he is here with a set of instructions detailing how you should carry yourself during this propitious weekend.

Under no circumstances should you try to be yourself. Don’t even think about being yourself.

The gormless university student full of primitive energy should be swept under the carpet, at least until the visitors have left.  “The oilskin of the house is not for rubbing on the skins of strangers” Ngugi Wa Thiong’o wrote in The River Between.

In the same spirit of not airing our dirtyl linen in the public, you should not be seen about town chewing on those khat twigs. Neither should you come within a thousand metres of Mr Obama smelling as though you’ve been soaked in ethanol. Image is everything.


I am assuming that by now the withdrawal symptoms that I spoke about last week are over(Read: OBAMA VISIT UNLOCKS MY COMRADES’ PRIMITIVE ENERGY), so you’re not expected to be urinating on any trees as you had threatened. If you do, you risk being blown to smithereens by US snipers as they do not negotiate with terrorists.

There is a slim likelihood that a group of 5,000 homophobic men and women will march in their birthday suits to protest against inequality. As a comrade, I understand that being amidst a crowd of naked people has been a top item in your bucket list. However, you are prohibited from fulfilling the wicked fantasy.

You are also prohibited from demanding that Barack Obama address the issue of marijuana legalisation. Your Sisyphean efforts in drafting those “Legalise weed” placards arehighly unappreciated; please dispose of them in the nearest dustbin.

And if you happen to catch a glimpse of 17-year-old Malia, you are required to buy yourself a lick of self-respect and stop engaging in paedophilic thoughts. She is way out of your league.

Please remember that cameras have been installed all over the city, so be on your best behaviour, comrades. Remember to smile and wave at our visitors.

Catch my column, Comrades, inside Daily Nation’s ZuQka pullout every Friday!

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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