I don’t know about some of you, but for me usually at this time of year when people are gearing for the festive season, my mind is normally very confused.
My mind becomes a battle zone because apart from my boss refusing to add any amount to my measly salary, the inhabitants of my humble abode in Manzese always remember that they can work better as a team.
The usual battle in my house is always based on the fact that the whole of my clan demand that it is their birth right to be taken to some places where owners of healthy wallets take their families at that time of year.
These places include Bagamoyo, Zanzibar and some weird places where animals roam free and people are at liberty to take as many selfies as they can, in the comfort of a truck which has a reputation of being the favorite of people with white skin.
Last year I avoided lynching by a whisker when the woman who is supposed to be my better half, mama Boyi united her charges and they demanded to be taken to Bagamoyo.
This year the demand for their birth right to be taken to exotic places which are frequented by loaded fellows started last week, when my last born daughter, Baby Boom asked me whether this year we can visit Zanzibar.
Of course I knew she was sent by her mother, so I just told her that if they can perform a miracle of walking on water then we can all go to Zanzibar.
To say that she gave me a hostile eye would be an understatement, because if looks could kill, I assure you I would be lying in a pool of blood in my living room.
As she left the room, I could see the mother of my clan hovering at the door, and I knew she was waiting for the report, so I left the house before her daughter could inform her that I suggested they should turn into miracle workers.
As I sat at Zakayo’s Pub trying to think of my next move, I watched a clip where a fellow in a tight fitting suit was pouring praise on the chief prefect of this land, mama Samia herself.
The chap was saying that because mama was so generous, several projects worth billions of shillings have been implemented, and that many more were in the pipeline because mama in her generosity was ready to dish out more funds.
That is why the beer I was drinking convinced me that I should take advantage of mama’s generosity and beg for money, or something that can make sure that I say a quick bye-bye to poverty.
The idea of an open letter to the occupant of the massive house by the ocean came after I swallowed my fifth bottle of frothy liquid, and I quickly begged mzee Zakayo to pass me a pen and a paper.
How to start the letter required swallowing two more sweaty bottles of the frothy Ilala product, and charged enough, I proceeded to lay bare my soul to the Commander in Chief of our armed forces, home and abroad.
‘To the Commander in Chief of Tanzania’s armed forces, Chief Hangaya herself, greetings from Manzese, where goats roam in the midst of hardened criminals and thieves but none of them disappears.
Madam, I know you do not know me, but I should inform you that baba Ridhiwani who once occupied that house knew me very well, because apart from being the Mshenga when he was courting mama Salma, I am the one who made sure he survived the political chaos which threatened to blow up during his term.
Madam President, my name is Baba Boyi, I work as a scribe in your paper, although I have to inform you mama that the salaries that they give us can make you weep.
As I told you before Madam President, I live in Manzese with my small family, which consists of my wife, mama Boyi, and three children, although I have a feeling that the boy, my first born, is not mine.
My dear madam, since you took over power, things have become brighter, and the birds are now singing, because your kindness has forced God to turn His eyes in our direction.
Mama, although I know that you are working tirelessly to make sure that your children are well fed, including your children who live in Manzese, some of us are still finding it hard to afford a single brown bottle of any Ilala product, and your child like me faces the threat of being escorted out of this world by the mother of my clan because I cannot even afford to take them to Bagamoyo for Christmas, imagine, yaani just there in Bagamoyo!
My dear Madam, just the other day my wife begged me for money to go to the salon, but I could not afford it, that is why I volunteered to plait her hair myself, although it proved to be an uphill task, because that hair on my wife’s head has never been softened by any kind of chemical, so you can imagine the state of my fingers when I was done.
I had talked to baba Ridhiwani when he was the chief prefect of this great country, and he had promised to find somewhere to fix me, something like being a Regional Commissioner or even a nominated MP, but unfortunately his time was up before he could accomplish his promise.
That is why mama I have decided to write to you, I know you are a very kind woman, God’s answer to Tanzanians, who can never allow to see your child languishing in poverty when you know that I can be your good servant as a Regional Commissioner or a nominated MP…..or if everything else fails, I will not mind if you dispatch me as a District Commissioner (Kinondoni will be very ideal Madam), because I am ready to serve.
I know you will not let me down mama, and as you contemplate on where to fix me, I will appreciate it if you can assist me with money to take care of some issues, which include being kicked out of my house because I have not paid rent for almost one year now (I have attached my muamala number).
Thank you in advance mama, I promise you when you appoint me, I will work very hard without stealing a single cent of the taxpayer’s money, Kazi iendelee!.