Colleague thwarts my genius soccer tournament plan
By MCA Gwinso
When a coward sees someone he thinks he can beat, he becomes hungry for a fight. Whoever said this must have had in mind people like fellow MCA Violata.
This lady thinks I am a pushover. She is fighting me in the mistaken belief that I am out to endear myself to the people at her expense. I hear she wants to vie for a parliamentary seat in 2022. Well, she should know my eyes are set on higher things: I am gubernatorial or senatorial, if not presidential, material. Violata’s malice reared itself in an ugly way the other day.
As you know, I often suffer from sudden bouts of genius. I got an attack recently and came up with an idea of keeping the youth in our county busy during the festive season. I thought of a soccer tournament. The Gwinso Cup! I thanked my brain for the idea and contacted Mokonyonyo, my mobilizer-in-chief. He too agreed that this was a bright idea. My suggestion that we print T-shirts excited him. We agreed we would use the stadium at the county headquarters, and that he would make the necessary arrangements at the county sports office.
I was elated when two days later, Moks informed me that everything was in place, and that the youth were looking forward to the event. The finals would be played on Jamhuri Day; I would invite the governor to grace the occasion and award the Gwinso Trophy to the winners.
“Mheshimiwa, why don’t you invite him for the opening as well,?” suggested Moks. I, however thought that would be asking too much from such a busy person. “Let me just do the opening, and he does the closing, which after all, is the climax.”
The stadium was teeming with energetic-looking youth when we arrived. A number of them were wearing T-shirts with the words Gwinso Cup 2019 emblazoned on them. I was pleasantly surprised to see my portrait at the back of the T-shirts. This was very thoughtful of Moks, and I told him as much. We walked straight to the field where the youth were. Upon seeing me, they drew closer and soon surrounded us.
“Okay guys,” began Mokonyonyo, “This is the day we have been waiting for. Our honourable guest, governor-to-be, MCA Gwinso is here with us to launch the Gwinso Cup. For the first time in the history of this county, we are having such an event and we thank our leader for his love for youth.” I felt my heart melt inside my chest against which I was holding a ball. “So gavana mtarajiwa, karibu.”
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, I saw the crowd around me make way for a group that was approaching. Leading the rather large group of unsportslike youth was MCA Violata. I paused to receive the newcomers.
“Karibu Mheshimiwa,” I said and extended my hand to her. She shook it with marked lack of enthusiasm. “We are just about to begin, but I guess you have a word for the youth.” For a moment, the MCA just glared at me speechlessly.
“Bwana Gwinso, we are colleagues. Why do you want to undermine me in my own ward? Why didn’t you inform me of this event,” she asked. Well, it had not quite occurred to me that the stadium was in her ward.
“But we got clearance from the County Sports office, and after all, this is a county event,” Mokonyonyo said.
Violata hurled a murderous look at my right hand man and snarled, “I am not talking to you, so shut up.” This did not go down well with me, and I protested. The MCA turned to me. “Gwinso, do you know I can order my youth…”
Before she could finish, I felt someone push me from behind. When I turned to look, the ball was snatched from my hands. Then there was a commotion. A kick landed on my backside. Things happened so fast. I shall forever remain grateful to Moks. He singlehandedly hauled me on his shoulders and bundled me into my waiting vehicle. We then sped off to the safety of my house.
Three days later I am yet to recover from the pain on my backside. What, however, pains me most is this rumour that MCA Violata is organising an Inter-Ward Sports tournament. Yet she had the audacity to stop my event? Bado mapambano!