The Real Police

This piece was written in 2002, when the police were still looking for the Rule of Law. As indeed they still are…

The Real Police

‘Good morning Defective Suspector Mumbo Kapumpunta,’ I said, as I walked into Badlands Police Station and greeted the Officer-in-Charge. ‘I’m Spectator Kalaki of The Post.’

‘Kalaki!’ he beamed, ‘so pleased to meet you at last! We read your column every week, always hoping to find grounds to throw you in the cells!’

‘Well now’s your chance!’ I laughed. ‘Everybody’s talking about your new VIP Cell, so I’ve come to have a look at it!’

‘Certainly!’ he laughed, as he ushered me out of the office. ‘But I’m afraid it may be too good for you the likes of you. It’s designed for former presidents!’

‘By the way, why’s this station called Badlands?’ I asked, as we walked down the steps from his office. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be in Goodlands?’

‘We don’t have any good people in here,’ he laughed, ‘in here we’re all bad. So watch your step, Kalaki!’

The VIP Cell turned out to be a three-roomed apartment, complete with en-suite bedroom. ‘What a huge bed for such a little fellow!’ I exclaimed.

‘He’s still very active,’ explained Kapumpunta.

‘When are you bringing him in?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he replied.

‘Tomorrow? Are you ready? Are the investigations complete? Are you ready to arrest? Ready to charge? Got a watertight case to put before the court? ’

‘That’s not the way we work’ he cackled. ‘First we lock them up, then we do the investigations, to find out what they’re guilty of!’

‘Suppose they’re innocent?’

‘Don’t be silly, Kalaki, everybody’s done something! Once we’ve locked them up, they soon squeal!’

‘Suppose they don’t?’

‘The always do. Once we’ve squeezed their testicles, they can’t stop squealing!’

‘What about the Rule of Law?’

‘The Rule of Law? Do you know how it looks like?’

‘You mean what it looks like.’

‘Don’t presume to correct me. I learnt my English in England!’

‘And where did you learn your law?’

‘In Libya.’

‘Aha,’ I laughed. ‘That could be the problem. The Rule of Law sets out the rules for ensuring that government officials do not misuse their authority.’

‘How does it looks like?’ he repeated.

‘It’s a big green book with many pages.’

‘Hah hah!’ he cackled, pushing me into the cell and clanging the grill door behind me. ‘How do you know it’s a green book? We’ve been looking for that book for years! There was only one copy! You must be the one who stole it! This country has been without the Rule of Law all these years, just because of you! Now we’ve got you! You’re under arrest!’

‘What!’ I gasped. ‘Surely there must be more than one copy!’

‘What are you talking about! Everybody knows that the Rule of Law completely disappeared in 1973 when the Mad Munshumfwa burnt all copies and replaced it with Humanism Part II. He kept only one copy, just for himself, which he wouldn’t show to anybody. That’s what we were looking for when we searched his books!’

‘Is it an offence to have a copy of the Rule of Law?’ I asked innocently.

‘Of course it’s an offence! That’s how you’ve managed to write all these seditious criticisms of the government, you have a secret and illegal copy of the Rule of Law!’

I languished in the cell for nearly an hour before Kapumpunta came back. ‘We’re off to search your house,’ he declared, as six policemen threw me into the back of a police van already stuffed with twelve CID officers. We were followed by a truck load of paramilitary with AK47s, and a pick-up full of barking dogs.

‘What are the dogs for?’ I asked.

‘Because we don’t need a search warrant if we’re looking for drugs,’ he laughed.

‘You won’t find any drugs,’ I retorted.

‘Don’t you be too sure,’ he laughed. ‘Alcohol, tobacco, aspirin, they’re all drugs.’

‘What’s all this?’ asked Sara, as the convoy swung into our yard.

‘There looking for something to charge me with!’ I said.

‘They should find plenty!’ she laughed. ‘See you later, I’m off to a women’s meeting, so I’ll leave you boys to play your games.’

‘You promised to stick by me, for better or worse!’ I pleaded.

‘Hah!’ she snorted as she drove out, ‘I didn’t know how worse you could get!’

‘What’s this?’ growled Kapumpunta, waving under my nose a paper entitled How the Shushushu Rigged the Election. A story like this could bring down the government! Therefore it threatens the security of the state, so I’m arresting you for treason!’

Just then a dog came running out of the kitchen with a cabbage in its teeth. ‘We’ve found the Rule of Law!’ shouted a policeman. ‘Big and green, with many leaves, just like he said!’

‘They were promised the Rule of Law,’ I laughed, ‘but all they got was a cabbage!’

‘Well done, Kalaki,’ laughed Suspector Mumbo Kampumpunta, taking off his hat.

‘Mumba Kapumpa!’ I laughed. ‘I should have guessed it was you! I thought the name sounded familiar! But I didn’t recognise you without the whiskers and wearing that silly hat! Are you all from Twikisa Theatre?’

‘Of course. We’re thinking of developing one of your stories as a comedy at the Playhouse, so we decided to do a theatre workshop with this one.’

‘This one? I never wrote this one!’

‘But you will,’ he laughed. ‘You will!’

‘Do you know,’ I confessed, ‘I actually believed you were real police!’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he laughed. ‘We don’t have any real police!’

Commission of Insanity

[Written in May 2003, this story anticipates the Long Lunacy of the Constitutional Commission of Inquiry]

Commission of Insanity

The Press Conference was so long and boring that I was almost falling asleep. Then suddenly I heard something more interesting…

‘… so now I have fuh-fuh-finally decided to announce my position on these recommendations from the Constoootional Commission of Inquiry.’

‘What’s poor old Muwelewelewele talking about?’ I whispered to Sam, ‘He’s only just appointed them!’

‘Kalaki, my dear,’ said Sam, putting his arm round my shoulder, ‘you’ve been sitting here longer than you realise. The Commission was appointed in 2003 and they presented their report in 2008. And even that was two years ago!’

‘What! What are you saying? Where have I been? Have I been sitting at this same Press Conference for seven years? Is that what you want me to write in my column tomorrow? People will think I’ve gone mad!’

‘My poor dear Kalaki,’ said Sam, ‘You went mad years ago, but people still read your stories every week. But I should explain to you, this is not a press conference at State House, this is the lawn at Chainama Psychiatric Hospital. I’ve come here this afternoon to visit you. You’ve been here for seven years!’

‘My God!’ I hissed, looking around, as people started to stare at me. ‘What happened?’

‘You began to write stories that were more and more insane! Every week a bit more bonkers!’

‘But my stories are always true!’

‘That was the problem. It’s not good when insane stories turn out to be true! The whole country was going insane, and people were beginning to blame you. And you couldn’t stand the responsibility for what was happening, it drove you insane!’

‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ I protested. ‘It wasn’t my fault if the whole country was going insane. In fact I was the only sane person left.’

‘When you begin to believe that,’ said Sam solemnly, ‘it means you’ve gone mad.’

Maybe he’s right, I thought to myself. Even Sam could be right sometimes. Even Stutter Muwelewelewele had been heard to mutter a few wise words amongst all his nonsense. Wise constructions may arise sometimes by mere grammatical accident. And as I was thinking of my predicament, Stutter Muwelewelewele continued to stutter on…

‘The Cuh-Cuh-Commissioners were asked to consider whether all the decisions of government should be decided according to the unrestrained whim of a President with limitless powers. Or whether, instead, we shouldee ah, shouldee ah, change the Constootion, so that Presidential decisions are be guided by procedures for enshooring rational thought and balancing the interests of all stek-stekholders.’

‘Ha ha,’ I whispered to Sam, ‘you really had me worried for a moment. But that old fellow is definitely old Stutter Muwelewelewele. I really believed that I had been locked up at Chainama Hospital!’

‘Stutter is also a patient here,’ said Sam calmly. ‘He also got caught in the loop between rationality and insanity.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just wait,’ said Sam. ‘Just give him plenty of time. He’ll explain it himself.’

‘Andee now ah, andee now ah,’ continued Stutter, ‘I have this list of 354 suggestions from the Commissioners on a new Constootion, which would entirely remove the power of Presidential Whim. Instead they seek to limit the power of the President by making all Presidential decisions subject to the rationality of due process.

‘Whereas I agree with the Commissioners in principle,’ declared Stutter, ‘there seems to be a legal difficulty which the Cuh-Cuh-Commissioners haven’t cuh-cuh-considered, and which is insurmountable or even insurmountainous.’

‘Here it comes,’ chuckled Sam.

‘As President, according to the Constootion, I am the one who has to take the decision to introduce the new Constootion. Now ah, now ah, now ah, how can I suddenly introduce rationality into a Presidential decision when the present Constootion requires me to take decisions on the basis of Presidential Whim. There is no Constootional precedent for a President using a rational argument to support a decision. And until we change the present Constootion I am sworn to defend the present Constootion.

‘If I use a rational argument to justify rationality, I shall have exceeded my powers under the present Constootion, since my powers are based on mere whim and not rationality. And if I am not at present given the Constootional power to exercise rationality, then how can I justify introducing rationality without a rational supporting argument? On the other hand, how can rationality be introduced on a mere whim? Unfortunately we have here an insurmountable cuh-cuh-contradiction.’

Muwelwelewele looked up at a tree with a puzzled expression. ‘Why do they want to make all these new rules? Did I not appoint all of them from pure whim, completely ignoring all rational advice from all around? Where would they be today if I had used rational justification for my actions? Why can’t people just respect my whimsical decisions? Why doesn’t anybody trust me anymore?’ He put his head in his hands and sobbed. Then two men in white coats took him by the arms, lifted him up, and led him away.

‘I suppose,’ I said to Sam, ‘That people lost trust in him after he went insane?’

‘No,’ laughed Sam. ‘He went insane because people wouldn’t trust him.’

‘So who’s in charge now?’

‘Nobody.’

‘Nobody?’ I gasped. ‘Then if Presidential Whim has been locked up, we are now free to change the Constitution!’

Just then a peacock screeched, and I woke up with a start. ‘You dozed off,’ said Sam, ‘You’ve missed everything! You’ll have no story for tomorrow’s edition!’

‘Don’t worry,’ I laughed. ‘I wrote the story before I left!’

‘You’re insane,’ he said.

Where is it?

[Every time the government changes hands they begin looking for the property stolen by the previous incumbents. This was the situation in May2002, when Kalaki wrote this piece]

Where is it?

‘Mr Cycle Mata,’ said the Judge, ‘According to the evidence put forward by Inspector Waffle Watumpa, you secretly stole the Rule of Law from the government, and have been driving it around as if it were your own.

‘But I am much persuaded by the evidence from many witnesses that you have never had anything to do with the Rule of Law. Whenever you wanted to fix your enemies, you always hired your own gang of thugs. I therefore absolve you of all charges of ever having had anything to do with the Rule of Law, and you are accordingly acquitted.’

‘Thank you My Lord. I should just like to say how grateful I am for my stay in Kamwala Prison. Despite my considerable previous experience, I had never before managed to meet so many thieves and criminals in such a short time. I have recruited them all into my party, and we will soon be in a position to take over the government.’

‘Splendid!’ laughed the Judge. ‘That’s what we mean by democracy in this country!’ Then the Judge turned more seriously to the Clerk of the Court. ‘I am very concerned about how this case was botched by this baffled buffoon, Inspector Waffle Watumpa. Weren’t the Police supposed to have brought the Rule of Law here, as an exhibit of the stolen property?’

‘My Lord!’ exclaimed the Clerk of Court in alarm, ‘the Suspector General has always been very clear that the Police will never have anything to do with the Rule of Law! We are trained to never go near it.’

‘Then why wasn’t it brought by an officer of the court?’

‘It would set a disastrous precedent, My Lord. The Rule of Law has never had any role in court proceedings, and has never previously been found in any court room.’

‘Really? Why’s that?’

‘Due to the constitutional separation of powers, My Lord. We are concerned with administering the law, not with ruling. That’s the job of the executive. Once a court concerns itself with the Rule of Law, it would set a dreadful precedent. All previous judgements would be wide open for appeal, because of evidence obtained under torture. Even those hanged would have to be dug up, resuscitated, resurrected and retried. Both the cost and the smell would be inestimable.’

‘So where is the Rule of Law now?’

‘It was Mr Bigwig Abashi who claimed that Cycle Mata stole the Rule of Law. So perhaps he’s the owner!’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere!’ exclaimed the judge. ‘Call Bigwig Abashi!’

An ancient little bald fellow hobbled arthritically into the witness box. ‘Are you the owner of the Rule of Law?’ asked the Judge.

‘I am the Very Right Honourable Doctor Bigwig Abashi, constitutional lawyer with three degrees, and currently Minister of Perks for Supply.’

‘Yes yes,’ said the Judge irritably, ‘we know all that. The question is whether you are the owner of the Rule of Law?’

‘Ha ha,’ cackled the wrinkled old lizard, ‘I’d never fix my enemies if I bothered with that! The very existence of the Rule of Law is a great mystery. But as far as I understand the matter, the Rule of Law is supposed to be kept in a safe place, locked up in the cells of the Shushushu.’

‘The Rule of Law is locked up? Has it committed an offence?’

‘It’s not that, but rather a matter of constitutional principle. You see, My Lord, if the Rule of Law were set free, the Shushushu themselves would immediately become unconstitutional.’

‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed the Judge. ‘I hadn’t thought of that! But to settle this case we should really find the Rule of Law, since Cycle Mata was accused of having stolen it. So I order that the Supreme Shushushu be brought here before this court, to confirm that he really has the Rule of Law under lock and key.’

‘We can’t do that, My Lord,’ screeched Bigwig, ‘you must surely be aware that the Shushushu does not officially exist.’

‘Oops, I quite forgot that!’ said the Judge, as he scratched his smelly yellow wig with his filthy fingernails. ‘But if we can’t be sure that the Rule of Law is locked up, then how can we be sure that it hasn’t escaped or even been stolen?’

‘There is quite a bit of general evidence,’ smirked Bigwig, ‘that the Rule of Law is safely under lock and key.’

‘What evidence?’ demanded the Judge.

‘There’s so much evidence,’ replied Bigwig. ‘Let me give you an example. We have so many investors in the country who treat their workers like slaves, pay them starvation wages, and beat them if they protest. Now, if the Rule of Law were set free, obviously all these hideous investors would be prosecuted, punished and then deported.’

‘A good point,’ said the Judge. ‘We certainly need to protect the economy from the Rule of Law. Indeed, if the Rule of Law were to escape, it could cause havoc. That’s why this court must be in a position to assure the nation that the Rule of Law has not escaped, but is locked up in a safe place. I have a duty to the nation to get to the bottom of this matter. Bring the Chief Government Spokesman.’

So now the fat face of Mr Bedstead Dimba blinked uncomprehendingly at the court. ‘Mr Dimba,’ said the Judge sternly. ‘Can you tell us the whereabouts of the Rule of Law?’

‘I can assure you,’ said Dimba slowly, ‘that the Rule of Law is safely in the custody of the government.’

‘The government! The government!’ snapped the Judge irritably. ‘Who is the government! Who governs this country?’

Dimba paused, scratched his head, and looked at the ceiling. ‘This country is governed,’ he said slowly, ‘by the Rule of Law.’