The days were getting long and monotonous, the nights stale and loudly silent. Lord Rungu was increasingly getting impatient and frustrated, easily irritable and devoid of life. His wives and concubines had been stung by the famous Rungu poison and were heavy carrying little Rungus and thus unable to satisfy the kings insatiable appetite. His warriors, afraid the king would take notice of their sisters and wives sent them to relatives in faraway villages. The great ‘famine’ of 013 AR (After Rungu) had begun.
The Njuri Ncheke aware that their supreme sovereign and God chosen
leader was becoming unhappy hurriedly convened a crisis meeting. The
Njuri Ncheke was the governing council of the Vultures tribe. It was
ably run by the one eyed man, the polish propagandist, the sub Saharan
man, prosecutor Sumu among several other men of no mean repute.
After hours of deliberations at their HQ in Dimples Pub, buoyed by the local keg Guinness, the elders agreed to hire a man whose reputation had flown above him to entertain the king. The man was Boka J Makaburi.
Whereas there was scant information on where he'd come from, there was no doubt about his ability to crack the king up. And a happy king meant a happy Kingdom.
J Boka Makaburi was a man who performed his duty to his king with hitherto unseen relish. The aura of mystery hanging over his head just but made him intriguing enough to be funny. There were rumors that he was the lost son of Makaburi, the late Muslim cleric killed by poachers but J neither denied or accepted it.
There was nothing J Makaburi had not seen or done. Imagine your wildest story. Then exaggerate it as much as you can. Not even that could come close to the story telling abilities of the man. Most times in order to vividly create a picture, J would use props and illustrations. The veteran king once again looked forward to his days even though the nights were still cold and unoccupied.
A month had hardly passed by when the Njuri Ncheke started noticing that the sugar and maize flour levels were quickly depleting. At first they though there was a food thief in the kings Court, an offence punishable by immediate banishment.
To everyone's utter surprise, it was found out that J Makaburi had been preparing his own mountain of ugali and ‘nyuol ber’ of tea in the middle of the night long after the village was snoring.
A decision had to be made. Feed the monstrous appetite of the King's favorite servant and deplete the grain reserves or do away with the mysterious guzzler and face the full wrath of the King's famous temper.
The Njuri Ncheke had a decision to make, and they had to make it fast.
.......To be Continued ...............
After hours of deliberations at their HQ in Dimples Pub, buoyed by the local keg Guinness, the elders agreed to hire a man whose reputation had flown above him to entertain the king. The man was Boka J Makaburi.
Whereas there was scant information on where he'd come from, there was no doubt about his ability to crack the king up. And a happy king meant a happy Kingdom.
J Boka Makaburi was a man who performed his duty to his king with hitherto unseen relish. The aura of mystery hanging over his head just but made him intriguing enough to be funny. There were rumors that he was the lost son of Makaburi, the late Muslim cleric killed by poachers but J neither denied or accepted it.
There was nothing J Makaburi had not seen or done. Imagine your wildest story. Then exaggerate it as much as you can. Not even that could come close to the story telling abilities of the man. Most times in order to vividly create a picture, J would use props and illustrations. The veteran king once again looked forward to his days even though the nights were still cold and unoccupied.
A month had hardly passed by when the Njuri Ncheke started noticing that the sugar and maize flour levels were quickly depleting. At first they though there was a food thief in the kings Court, an offence punishable by immediate banishment.
To everyone's utter surprise, it was found out that J Makaburi had been preparing his own mountain of ugali and ‘nyuol ber’ of tea in the middle of the night long after the village was snoring.
A decision had to be made. Feed the monstrous appetite of the King's favorite servant and deplete the grain reserves or do away with the mysterious guzzler and face the full wrath of the King's famous temper.
The Njuri Ncheke had a decision to make, and they had to make it fast.
.......To be Continued ...............
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