All Hail the New Speaker!

[First published on 7^th February 2002, just after the election of a new Speaker]

All Hail the New Speaker!

Sam and I were sitting in the Press Gallery of the Great Cathedral at Manda Hill. We were about to witness the consecration of the new priest to preside over all their ancient and medieval rituals.

‘Why is the priest in charge called a speaker?’ I whispered to Sam. ‘Shouldn’t he be a cardinal, or at least an archbishop?’

‘This is a different sort of church,’ explained Sam, ‘Instead of priests, bishops and pope, here we have members, ministers and speaker.’

‘But do they all worship God?’

‘Here God is Money, and Money is God,’ chuckled Sam. ‘So they worship Money, which they believe to be the visible sign of God on Earth.’

‘But does that explain the Chief Priest being called the Speaker!’

‘He is called the Speaker because Money talks,’ explained Sam. ‘The old God of Morality has not muttered a word for two thousand years. But the God of Money is chattering all the time, through his representative here on Earth, the Speaker. When the Speaker speaks, even the bishops tremble, because they also fear and respect the Power of Money.’

Just then a shabby little figure shuffled in and crouched in front of the Speaker’s Chair. ‘Good God!’ I exclaimed, ‘is this odious little creature the new Speaker?’

‘Of course not,’ laughed Sam. ‘This is Chiwelewele, the church rat. He’s been here so long that he was made the Chief Clerk. His job is to officiate over the proceedings, and then creep back into his hole.’

‘Please be upstanding,’ said Chiwelewele, ‘to sing the Money Anthem,’ as the entire congregation stood up simultaneously. For all their political differences, they were all united in their praise of their One God…

Stand and sing of Money,

market free,

Land of bribes and joy in unity,

Victors in the struggle

for our right,

We hold money tight,

Praise our Great Dollar,

Praise be, praise be,

Fat men we stand,

In the desert of our land,

For our Great Dollar,

Praise to thee,

Strong and free.

‘There are two candidates for the position of Speaker,’ continued Chiwelewele. ‘Firstly there is Bumfutu Bapunda, who is well known as a silly ass. Standing against him is the most famous and distinguished son of this House, Mr Alesosa Mwelwamwelwa. Those who want Mwelwamwelwa should walk past the right side of my chair, for righteousness is next to godliness. Those who are misguided should walk on the wrong side.

‘What’s that?’ I asked Sam, pointing to the large copper cross hanging high on the wall.

‘Copper crosses were used as money in pre-colonial day,’ he explained. ‘That’s our old traditional Copper God, worshipped long before the God of Abraham, in the days when the slaves dug up the copper and the chief grew fat on the proceeds.’

‘And the tatty old cabbage, hanging on the cross?’

‘Shush,’ said Sam, ‘that is the Great Cabbage that now rules the land. ‘Some people think that it’s just a useless cabbage, but actually it’s represents the big bundle of greenbacks which command the loyalty of our most illustrious crooks and thugs.’

‘It looks a bit tatty round the edges,’ I sniggered.

‘Some of the honourable members of the house are known to have a nibble now and again, according to the understandable demands of their extravagant lifestyle.’

As we were talking, the fat and honourable members were filing back from voting. ‘Look!’ I said. ‘Some have cabbage leaves sticking out of their pockets.’

‘Dollar notes,’ laughed Sam. ‘They’re already finding out how to get nearer to God.’

‘Our new Speaker,’ announced Chiwelewele, ‘is the Right Honourable Alesosa Mwelwamwelwa!’

‘Hear hear,’ cheered the members, as they counted their dollar notes, and Chiwelewele dressed the new Speaker in skirt, cloak and long white wig, so that his past reputation might be clothed in the finest disguise.

‘He has to wear the wig,’ whispered Sam, ‘to cover the panga scars acquired during his years as a party cadre in the Movement for Murdering Dissidents.’

‘My first duty,’ said the new Speaker, ‘is to lead this August and Honourable House in the Oath of Allegiance. ‘Please bend the knee, and repeat after me…’

All the ancient honourables attempted to bend their fat and arthritic knees as they chanted their Oath of Allegiance to the Holy Dollar…

Our Dollar, which art in pocket

Hallowed be thy name;

Our brown envelopes have come,

A new deal is done,

With Pajeros, to take us all to heaven.

Give us each day our daily bribe,

As well as our government houses,

And imprison those who speak out against us,

For ours is the dollar, the power and the glory,

With girlfriends for ever and ever,

In bed.

‘And now,’ the Speaker solemnly announced, as he gave the sign of the cross, ‘I do adjourn this House sine die, while I await further instructions from God the Kwacha, God the Dollar, and God the Holy Cabbage.’

What freedom it was to walk out from the fetid flatulent air of the Cathedral of the Holy Cabbage, into the fresh breeze outside.

‘There’s something familiar about the appearance of that new Speaker,’ I said to Sam. ‘He looks remarkably like the previous old villain. I seem to get a whiff of the same stench!’

‘You’re right!’ said Sam. ‘They’ve had the previous fellow resurrected! It’s a miracle!’

‘Who performed the miracle? Was it the God of Abraham or the God of Money?’

‘In this Christian Nation,’ laughed Sam, ‘who can tell the difference?’