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Baboon
Roy Cooke, The Post (Zambia)
January 01, 2004

Also read 'Mfuwe'

THE King was in his palace, sitting on his throne, reading the morning papers. In the corner sat a whiskery baboon of a fellow, scribbling on his notepad. The silence was interrupted by a timid knock on the door. 'Come in!' boomed the King, as a giant of a man lumbered in, more like a dinosaur, of the sort generally thought to be extinct. It was the dreaded Shaky Shikashiwa, Minister of Law and Disorder.

'You asked to see me, Your Majesty?' said the Minister, bowing very low. 'Yes!' roared the King, 'What are these dreadful things I've been hearing about you? I've called you here to explain yourself!'

'I can't think what you might mean, Your Most Divine Majesty,' replied Shikashiwa, attempting to humble himself with a wobbly grovel. 'Well you'd better start thinking fast,' snapped the King, 'if its not too late in your career. Do you see who that is, sitting in the corner?'

'Looks more like a baboon to me. Did you bring him from Mfuwe?' 'There's no need to make animalistic remarks,' said the baboon. 'I happen to be descended from a long line of hairy ancestors. I am Spectacle Kalaliki, the one who digs deeper for The Boast.'

'Ha ha!' shouted the Mighty Shikashiwa, lurching forward, 'My policee have been searching for him all week!'

'Not so fast!' commanded the King, 'Stay where you are and don't touch him! He is staying here under my protection. He has been telling me that you have called him a baboon, accused him of defaming the government, and you are trying to deport him to Mfuwe..'

'My dear brother, let me explain...'

'Don't you call me your brother!' screamed the King. 'People will think that's your only qualification for the job!'

'My deepest apologies Your Majesty. You see the problem arose when your nephew...'

'My nephew!' screamed the King. 'What sort of talk is this? Doesn't he have a name?'

'Sorry Your Majesty. I mean Mr Putrid Bumble, my Executive Secretary. He got terribly upset when Kalaliki wrote a story about hippos. Apparently the story included one particularly fat hippo which he immediately recognised as himself.'

'He should get his weight down,' snapped the King, 'if he wants to avoid such confusion of identity. But you, Shikashiwa, how did you get into all this?' 'I was coming to that, Your Majesty. The first I knew about it was when there was a rumpus outside my office. Apparently Putrid Bumble had gone into Wachama and rented a gang of kaponya to demand the blood of Kalaliki, and I had to go out there and face this bloodthirsty mob. They were already carrying Kalaliki's coffin, in readiness for the dreadful deed.'

'That's right,' interrupted Kalaliki, looking up from his notepad. 'That's when I came running to the palace for protection.'

The King turned towards the hapless Shikashiwa. 'But aren't you the very one who should have given him protection?' 'Oh I did, Your Majesty. To protect him from the murderous mob, I promised to deport him to Mfuwe. After all, he's obviously a baboon, so that's where he must have originated.'

'Try to get baboons out from your mind,' growled the King. 'What you were supposed to have done was to tell the mob that murder carries the death penalty. And also that you had to follow the rule of law. If Bumble had been defamed, then his proper remedy is to go before a judge to complain, and explain how he had managed to identify himself as the hippo in the story written by Kalaliki. Shikashiwa, don't you understand the smallest thing about government policy?'

'Oh yes, Your Majesty. That's why I have all the policee out looking for Kalaliki.'

'Not police!' screamed the King. 'I'm talking about policy. My government is supposed to stand for the rule of law and freedom of the press. Look at all these newspapers,' he said, sweeping his hand towards the pile on the table. 'I have the international press and human rights organisations from all over the world on my neck! This little Kalaliki is becoming famous, while your Great King is becoming infamous!'

'Terribly sorry, Your Majesty. You must tell me how this new policee is different from our old policee. Do they wear different uniforms?' 'I am going to give you time to find out. I am sending both you and Bumble on forced leave for six months!'

'Where should we go, Your Most Divine Majesty?' 'To Mfuwe,' declared the King.

As the door closed behind the Minister, the King turned to Kalaliki. 'I hope you won't report all this in tomorrow's paper.'

'Its out of my hands,' said Kalaliki. 'That's entirely for the Editor to decide.'

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