corrupt minister wets his trousers

By Irvine Syazyombo

The problem was, every announcement from polling stations, the ruling party was clearly losing ground to the opposition leader whom they had consistently insulted as a homosexual, dictator, Grade Seven drop out, former police constable , hypocrite and a venomous snake.

Mubita, a former minister in the losing government who was sure the winning president would viciously take revenge against all his political detractors, was sitting alone while shivering like a malaria patient in his sitting room at his farm and glued to national television awaiting the declaration of the presidential winner.

At last the inevitable had to be announced at midnight. Yes, the ruling party had at last lost the presidential election to the opposition .Mubita was appreciably appalled as people poured into the streets of every town and city noisily celebrating the victory.

It was all like a dream because Mubita only realized when he rose from his expensive sofa that he had even wetted his trousers, probably immediately after their opponent had been declared winner by a court justice.

To him the last thing he wanted to experience was the loss of the ruling party to the opposition because he had ten sacks of money in his house.

Mubita was horrified because the dirty money had the potential to land him in prison if discovered by the security forces of the government the former regime had wounded with constant insults.

He had to be creative enough as to think of a smart and quick to keep the billions of money away from potential police access.

The man whose source of money was a secret remembered that people in olden days would bury money in the soil.

Probably that would work for him too. He thought harder and became more worried..But how would he do that? How big should that pit be in which he should bury all that cash.

Then he called his wife the night after the elections. He knew she was the only person he would confide in at the time. He would not whisper that even to his five children in the capital city.

“Darling, we are bereaved, “he said in a sorrowful tone.

His wife starred at him to read the closeness of the person who had died. Was it the former minister’s uncle who had been admitted to hospital for a week? Was it his aunt in the village who was on ARVs? But should the death of a relative make him wet his trousers?

“I know you are puzzled. Never mind. The bereavement is about those ten sacks of money in our bedroom”, he said miserably.

“That is our money. Who can sniff after it? We can buy whatever we want, anywhere anytime. In fact I was thinking of doing a bit of shopping again in London…”

“Let us be serious here. Those sacks of money are problems. That is the problem on my mind. You cannot bank laundered money unless you want to invite police and all those corrupt chaps who pretend to be clean,” he interrupted sadly.

“You have already said we are bereaved. The next thing is burial. We have to bury the money,” his wife suggested as Mubita nodded his head whose chin was on his right palm.

Mubita tied his two dogs to a tree in a lion, python, leopard and hyena infested game park in a far away province so that he could deceive his workers that the two caskets they were about to bury contained the dead dogs.

The money was given a dignified burial in the farm although workers were not given a chance to view the ‘dead pets’ in the expensive caskets.

Unexpectedly, two weeks later, one of the dogs, Bingo, arrived at the farm while Mubita was away in the country’s capital.

All the villagers gathered Mubita’s farm to stare at the supposedly dead dog which had seemingly resurrected from the dead.

Soon word reached the police that a dog at a former minister’s farm had resurrected from the dead, suspiciously the first ever animal to do that.

Once Mubita had heard that one of his dogs had reappeared, he decided to flee the country before police visited the money burial site.

But police seized him at a road block on his way to the air port and he wetted his trousers again before they detained him at a nearby police station.

Next day scores of police and reporters drove to Mubita’s farm to find out what he had actually buried at the site that had a tomb stone and writings, ‘Bingo and Jose rest in eternal peace’.

The host of individuals at the site, whose salaries were simple chewing gum change ,endlessly wished there would be a fleeting opportunity to grab a few notes each, but it was difficult.

The way the money in the two coffins was raised is a mystery that is yet to be understood by the public.

As for now, villagers are still waiting for the return of the other dog, Jose.