UP THE POLE

[First published on 22 September 2005, this Golden Oldie pokes fun at the absurdities of our ridiculous but dangerous police force]

Up the Pole

The drums beat as the dancers twirled and the dust swirled around the pole planted in the hard dry ground of Maramba Village. Sara and I were seated in the crowded arena, goggling at all this like German tourists.

‘What are we doing here?’ I spluttered amongst the flying dust.

‘We’re on holiday,’ said Sara grimly. ‘This is the sort of thing people have to do when they’re on holiday. Thirty years we’ve been married and this is the first time we’ve ever been on holiday.’

‘We never won a raffle before,’ I said. ‘And I’m supposed to be writing my column today. Instead of that, I’m here looking at these maniacs pounding the dust.’

‘Just write what you see,’ suggested Sara.

‘That won’t make a story! I can’t even understand what’s going on! What’s it all about? What’s it mean?’

‘That’s not your business,’ Sara laughed, ‘You’re only the writer. It’s the job of your readers to find the meaning.’

Just then a Makishi dancer suddenly leaped at the pole and began to climb it with a rhythmic gyrating dance, as his friends sang and danced below. Salary two fiffity! they sang, as he hopped a metre up the pole. Rentee one-fiffity! they squealed, as he took another frenzied leap up the pole.

‘What’s it all mean?’ I demanded.

‘He’s trying to escape from his financial worries,’ Sara explained. ‘He’s trying to get away from the cares and worries of this Earth, and escape in the direction of Heaven!’

Foodu one-fiffity! laughed the singers, clapping their hands, as the Makishi jumped another metre up the pole. Zesco one-fiffity, sang the dancers in delight, Now Zesco cut-offee! The drums reached as a crescendo as the Makishi dancer leaped another two metres in absolute fright.

No more worree! sang the dancers, dancing round the pole and waggling their bottoms seductively, Sister on streetee!

Now the Makishi dancer leapt to the top of the pole, which bent over, leaving him dangling by one hand. ‘Oh my God!’ I exclaimed, ‘He wants to end it all! Go straight to Heaven by the short cut!’

We are the MMD chanted the singers, celebrating the Makishi’s precarious predicament, The Merry Makishi Dancers! We do the dance of deathee for the touristee!

Now the drumming increased its tempo as a skinny little policeman with a huge baton came running into the arena shouting Bring him downee, he’s under arrestee!

As the Makishi continued to dangle dangerously, the other dancers now circled the policeman singing Arrestee Makishi! Zesco offencee! Illegalee Connectee!

Quiet! shouted the policeman, as the whole stadium fell deadly quiet. This man is under arrest for demonstrating without a permit, contrary to the Public Order Act of 1927!

‘Is this part of the theatrical performance?’ I whispered to Sara, ‘Or is it for real?’

‘Nowadays,’ said Sara, ‘its hard to tell the difference.’

This man, screamed the policeman, is supposed to be a waiter at the Royal Livingstone Hotelee, but has instead organised a strike to complain against conditions of servicee, contrary to the provisions of the Slavery Act of 1654.

In addition, this man is trying to leave Zambia and enter Heaven without having applied for an exit permit, contrary to the regulations under the Immigration Act of 1904.

It is therefore my solemn duty to put this man before a court of law, so that he can receive his due punishment. After which, if he is still alive, he may return to his patriotic duty of having his remaining blood sucked by investors.

So saying, the policeman tied a rope around the pole and pulled it violently, causing the Makishi dancer to fall to the ground. As he fell, the policeman ran forward with his handcuffs, shouting You are under arrestee!

And the singers sang But he is already deadee and gonee

But the policeman replied Then I shall arrest him for escaping from lawful custodee!

Then the Makishi dancer jumped up and bowed to the crowd, as the drummers, dancers and singers all chased the policeman out of the stadium. Then all the audience stood up and clapped and cheered!

‘Wow!’ I said. ‘That was really convincing! I was really worried that it was a real policeman! But what did it all mean?’

‘What do you think?’ laughed Sara.

‘I think it means that when a policeman tries to invent his own laws, he becomes a joke, and people will laugh in his face! What did you think it meant?’

‘I think,’ said Sara, ‘that’s it’s a warning to the Chief of Police, that he might have spent a long time climbing to the top of the pole, but he can fall off in a second!’

‘He has been warned,’ I said, ‘that he may depart faster than he came!’