A Kangaroo at Kilingili Police Station

A Kangaroo at Kilingili Police Station
People with whom you should never share a boundary are fond of changing boundaries. They are so wicked that they even seek leadership positions so that they can freely abuse office.
How are we supposed to live on this earth?
Why should someone spend their energy and money developing a kitchen garden for another person’s chickens and or ducks come and destroy plants in it?
To be safe from the muzzle of the gun do not share a gizzard with a policeman. The well of life is for only three people, the policeman, the policeman and the policeman.
A woman shall be free to associate with whomever she loves. Anyone is free to be a friend and or lover or a spouse of a police officer.
To be associated with a police officer does not make you a police officer.
It is so painful to be poor. People want to make money. Unfortunately, there are selfishness, laziness, ignorance, impatience and greed.
There are many ways of making money and even monies.
It can be dirty or clean money. You can make quick money or slow money.
It is good to have a close policeman. It is a sign of security. He wears uniform and above all, he has a crown. He is not just a symbol of government. He is the Government!
I respect and love the policeman.
I trust only the policeman.
Never condemn the police in general.
The police, who know nothing about medicine, issue a P3 Form and an OB Number.
The dying person now sprints to hospital for medical examination and subsequent treatment. Genuine victims can die on the way to hospital and receive DOA (dead on arrival) certificate.
At the hospital, the sprinter goes to a doctor. There are two doctors. Doctor Mwanga is not in. His term expired. Only God may replace him. He used to greet and ask for papers from the nurse on duty. So the patient would give him the papers plus the P3 Form.
The young policeman is in the new uniform but is not changed at all. He is the same old policeman in the police force, not police service as he should be.
Either, it will take long for the police to change, or the police will never change.
“Oldman, what do you want?”
Rose Mwafulani and I are hurrying to Kilingili Police Station. The sun has already set. As we walk, I lack where to put my ears. I cannot stop hearing how Mkanitu has been so bad and cruel to her sister-in-law.
She is telling me the opposite of what Mkanitu has cried about from time immemorial.
You do not need super brain power to detect self-praise and mudslinging in the same words.
Why have we hurried to this place? Mwafulani is thirsty for free money while I would like to reach home before darkness sets in. Moreover, clouds are building up.
Waiting for a policeman to come and formalize an MOU — memorandum of understanding, if not Mwafulani’s Opportunity Unfolding — is a tournament. You have to fight impatience. Otherwise, you will blow your head in a heat of temper.
I look forward to the day the Holy Spirit comes back in the form that it was in the days of the Old Testament Patriarchs and the New Testament Apostles.
The policeman at Kilingili Police Station sits upright on his chair. He stretches his right hand and pulls out a drawer. Out of it he gets a file with papers. “I would like to make this work short. You will allow me just write the agreement withdrawing the case and you only sign. Is that acceptable to you, the accused?”
In one of the many horrendous cases of nowadays, a neighbour’s grade dairy cows grazed on someone’s maize. The owner of the maize did not take the time to sort out the issue. He quickly picked up a sharp machete and cut the hind legs at the knees of the cows.
It was terrible. The big beautiful animals, four of them, could not move.