Darkness at noon: The misty pearl.

If I spent countless cold and wet nights in the bush, had to endure the horror and panic of gun battle after gun battle, watched my comrades drop dead or maimed for life right next to me as I fled for dear life from enemy soldiers in Luwero, if I endured all this, it is my inherent right to eat and keep eating until I get my fill, at what point I am supposed to stop eating and start caring for the well being and development of my impoverished citizens is entirely up to me, no one has a right to judge or criticize me let alone threaten me with prosecution for corruption.
Who was there when I went hungry for days, with only the tubers from diseased cassava tubers for food? Certainly not those self righteous donor technocrats who think they know what’s best for the third world, let them go ahead and take their money, after all haven’t we already discovered our very own black gold in Bunyoro? And then three was that pompous, wiseass of an IGG who thought she was a god sent avenging angel dispatched to earth to send me and my surviving comrades to the depths of hell, thank god some one put her in a place for good, speaking of which if I had my way I would order a certain judge be castrated and have his balls baked in a microwave right before his very own eyes, he even had the audacity to say my country had gone to the dogs, who was he to probe my involvement in the global fund project, they even caled it a scandal, I mean all we did was rightfully take what’s ours, who else does your retarded mind think the money was meant for? The sick? …Puleeez! They don’t deserve a dime, while we were dodging bullets they were hiding cowardly under their beds sucking each others……..
He Shakes uncontrollably with rage……wipes his glistening brow with a silk hanky, adjusts his gold cufflinks and stares unblinking into the camera………………..Ladies and gentle men,  if I have wronged anyone let them come up right now and face me, one cant even sell their land for a mere 11 billion without causing an uproar, is this the kind of country you want to live in? …looks around for some kind of acknowledgement……. Is it?… He asks again ……………..
The commandant sat looking on with an expressionless countenance, while his six fellow tribunal members exchanged bewildered looks and shook their heads, he did not even for a minute take his eyes off the accused. As he continued to listen to the ranting of the 70 year old delusional former minister his mind wandered back to the events of the past nine days…………… the storming of the state house in Nakasero had by far been the goriest battle of the week long bloody coup, he had lost quite a number of good men, Capt. Magooni to his right had lost his right arm but he was here today because he could not afford to miss the sentencing of the man who had humiliated him once too often.
The bustle and yells from the crowd shook him out of his reverie, the crowd was baying for blood, the rubble that had gathered in the parliament courtyard chanted ‘Ffe tuli mu kintu’ as they called for the old mans’ demise,  a woman who uncannily reminded him of Madame Defarge was shouting along with the crowd at the top of her voice, he focused his gaze back on the accused and surprisingly felt pity for the old man, not because he was about to send him to his death (he would gladly pull the trigger himself) but because of what was to become of the old man’s family, a secret decree issued last night had ordered for a crackdown on relatives and acquaintances, no stone was to be left unturned.
It was going to be long New Year.
 ”I don’t believe that the big men, the politicians and the capitalists alone are guilty of the war. Oh, no, the little man is just as keen, otherwise the people of the world would have risen in revolt long ago! There is an urge and rage in people to destroy, to kill, to murder, and until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated and grown, will be destroyed and disfigured, after which mankind will have to begin all over again.”
Anne Frank
1929-1945, German Jewish Refugee, Diarist