Application to work in Mr Museveni’s government
https://observer.ug/index.php/viewpoint/82744-application-to-work-in-mr-museveni-s-government
October 23, 2024
Written by Dr Jimmy Spire Ssentongo
Dear Mr President, kindly consider my application for a job in your government.
I truly believe that I have all the qualifications for a position of minister, executive director of one of the government bodies, IGG, RDC, RCC, or Chairperson of Uganda Human Rights Commission.
I also believe I can be speaker of parliament, deputy, clerk, or, perhaps, you can create some new unit for me. I will briefly take you through my qualifications and reasons for my desire. I have not attached my academic qualifications, and I will not talk about them. I will go straight to what matters more.
First, I do not know if you remember my grandfather, Mzee Zirabamuzaale. He contributed a lot to the bush war. Do you remember when you were bitten by a snake in Katonga swamp? He is the one who saved you, with a herbal concoction.
A little about my ancestry. While my grandfather was called Zirabamuzaale, that is a name he adopted for convenience when he settled in Masaka. His real name was Rwengabo. Although he didn’t tell us, I came to learn that he originated from Kazo, and he belonged to the Basiita clan.
There is a possibility that we are related, Mr President. I am still researching that, but I already see some signs in how I walk with a little tilt and smile like a candle. I am Ssentongo by pure distortion. Needless to say, behind all guises, I am an NRM cadre. I internally breathe NRM.
My blood is only red by accident; it is supposed to be as yellow as a madman’s teeth. And, I also believe in the father, the son, and the holy queen. I definitely understand the trinity, and wherever its blood flows to bestow special status. In that order, I can be something too. I can be angel Michael, if the position is not yet taken.
I can be Gabriel, to bring you the good news, of opponents successfully imprisoned. Doesn’t heaven need influencers? I can be John the Baptist, to announce the coming of the son, onto the throne designed for the father’s special blood. Good Musevenis (heavens?), I need a tight hug and no judgement.
There is a bit of a dent on me,but I believe there is room for all of us in your house. Besides, by that dent, I could be of some use. I have a history of long fingers, a bit of a thief. Nevertheless, judging by the profiles of many around you, I don’t think I will be out of place.
A little more about my small achievements on that front: I have successfully robbed a bank. Before that, in the late 1980s, I was a pickpocket based in Nyendo. No valuable item is hidden enough to be inaccessible to my fingers. I have a long experience of stealing from the poor, and I cannot easily be guilt-tripped by their cries and noise.
I have stolen from the disabled, from children, from widows, from orphans, and from the elderly. My most hilarious experience was stealing from the sick. It was smooth, for they soon died, leaving no witness.
I can steal farm implements; I can steal seedlings; I can steal chalk; I can steal bricks; I can steal medicine; I can steal a school; I can steal a hospital... Above all, I can steal dreams. If instructed, with some guarantees, I can even steal futures. With such abilities, would you doubt my capacity to handle little mundane things like iron sheets? Put me somewhere in parliament; I swear I won’t disappoint.
And I will lift your mighty name on high; on my buildings, and on top of my lips. I will sing of your greatness, and will equivocate by ensuring that no weapon shaped against you prospers in The House. Give me joy in my heart, Mr President, keep me praising. Give me a job, I will perform.
If you, Mr President, will not get me a job around you, who will appreciate my talents without judging me? Where else shall I steal in peace? Where else shall I steal without worrying that I could end up in these nasty congested jails designed for petty offenders and loud-mouthed critics?
Where else shall I be promoted in appreciation of my thieving merits? Where else shall it be patriotically appreciated that what I steal still ends up in the Ugandan economy?
If you, Mr President, marked our guilt, who would survive? In your limitless wisdom, you have understood that if you punish all thieves around you, the country will collapse. You have resisted the foolish advice of those agents of foreign interests who are urging you to fight corruption.
They wish us no good, and are clearly deficient in ideology. Thanks for crushing Beti Kamya’s nonsense of ‘lifestyle audits’. Who gives her the audacity to poke her nose into our malls, factories and apartments? Does she know the old principle that ‘goods once taken are not returnable’?
Offer me a job, Mr President; I promise not to contradict you in any way. Even when you belch, I will clap and praise the quality of the bass. I will proclaim your limitless energy and wisdom. I will defend to my last breath your right to die in the seat of presidency. When things continue falling apart due to internal abuses of the vacuum left by your receding energies and because of the opportunistic killing of institutions, I will wholeheartedly blame it on the interference of imperialists and homosexuals.
On mountain tops, radios, TVs, social media, I will energetically dismiss Besigye and Kyagulanyi as hooligans. I will use all my talents to convince young people that they don’t have to rush into thinking of leading the country when you our infinitely wise elders are still alive.
To ensure that their noise is reduced, I will facilitate their exodus into Middle East deserts, where they can put their education to good nanny use. I’m the right person, sir; kindly employ me!
The author is a teacher of philosophy.
