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Mzanzania | Sedgwick

by Tom Eaton, illustration Alastair Laird / 18.03.2011

The story so far…

A small republic clings to the bottom of a large continent, much like a dag to a murine buttock. The citizens of this nation – the good, the wicked, the morally ambivalent and the downright freaky – try to make a living. Some work hard and have a sense of vocation. Others are politicians.
These are dangerous times. Almost every day another child is killed by falling house prices. Even in gated communities nobody is safe: beyond the razor wire the Afrikaans gospel singers still lurk in their monogrammed Hilux one-tonners. Just this week alone nine people had their brains liquified by a drive-by strumming in C-major called “Ek Glo In Jou Omdat Ek In Jou Glo”.

But in leafy Pretoria all is at rest; and in an oak-panelled office, Presidency media liaison officer Sedgwick “Old Brown” Baloyi is doing what he does everyday…


Oh Jesus, it’s the Ugandan ambassador on Line 2. Yesterday he phoned to find out if mayonnaise contained semen, and if so, if his wife could get pregnant eating a tuna mayo sandwich.
“Mr Ambassador, what a lovely surprise, we haven’t spoken since yesterday. How are things at the Ugandan Embassy today?”
“Fucking horrible, Baloyi! I think I might have caught Gay. Can you catch Gay from a cushion?”
“No sir.”
“That’s what the Ugandan Surgeon General said.”
“That’s wonderful news, sir.”
“But he also says we should give anaesthetics to witches before we burn them so I suspect he might have Gay which is why I called you.”
This is why I need to own the coal mine. Like yesterday. When I own the coal mine I’ll tell the Ugandan Ambassador that his wife can expect quadruplets after being knocked up by her egg salad.
“Are you still wearing those adult diapers I suggested, sir?”
“Never take them off. Never know when a Gay is going to try to violate Ugandan national territory.” Or when you might need to take a poop during a state visit.
“And do you still have the anti-lesbian camouflage netting up in your office like a told you, sir?”
“Hell yes. Been trying to find my secretary all morning but the hussy is invisible in the jungle shrubbery. Looks like Gorilla’s In The Mist in here. Did you see that film, Baloyi? About efforts to conserve lesbians in Rwanda. Horrible waste of time.”
“Excuse me, Mr Ambassador, I have to go. There’s been an incident with an Afrikaans gospel singer, dozens injured, you know the drill.”
“Fuck yes. Horrible. Tell me if you need my country to send tents or ambulances or something.”
“Thank you sir.”
Still nothing from the the mine people… But my ship will come. It must. If it doesn’t I’m going to do something stupid, like try to polish the President’s head with Brasso like poor mad Mrs Twala in Protocol did last month. I wonder how Mrs Twala is? Note: send her flowers. Is she allowed flowers? Note: check if they’re letting carbon-based life-forms into Mrs Twala’s cell.
2011 is going to my year. I can feel it.

*Tune in next week for Mzanzania episode 2, where we introduce you to stifled housewife Debbie and her insatiable lust for her Garden Boy, Luscious!

**Illustration © Alastair Laird.

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