The Naga diaries…

TIMES INT'L

Satiricus was having the time of his life. And why shouldn’t he? His favourite cricketing Warriors were at the top of the hill… headed for the semis. “And for the finals,” he grinned to himself. He had a beer in one hand and the diary of the Naga Man in the other. His wife’s trusty niece, maid to the big-time funded opposition, had been a bit lax recently with the purloining of the opposition diaries for his perusal. How was he to keep up with his inside scoops on politics?
Dear Diary, Ah cyaan tek it no mo. Even Lot didn’t have to bear so much like me. Ah wonder if the Big Man testing me? Is wha Ah do He? The only thing is Ah does drink every Sunday… that ain’t so bad, is it Dear Diary? After all, He should know that even when Ah does go to church, Ah used to think abut the drink more than the sermon.
But lemme tell you about me worries. After all the scheming Ah plan – to throw out the Rum Jhaat from the KFC leadership and me and NoGel gon tek over for the next election, look what stupidness NoGel get heself in!! He turn secretary for the same company we in KFC cussing down – till it don’t have water to wash it.
He don’t listen to me. He think because Ah just come out from law school Ah don’t know anything. But I know enough that I only cuss down NoCIL after Ah collect me Gy$ 7 million from them. NoGel don’t realise that Ah got graduate degrees in lying – which is my main qualification to become a lawyer. So now Ah got to start all over again to find somebody to help me throw out the Rum Jhaat and show people KFC “multiracial”. And Ah turn President. (Ah is all right, Dear Diary. Ah had to tek a “tupps”. Is bush rum dem boys in Canje give me.)
And as soon as that story ease up – look what happen. Rodee turn general secretary of the party. Can you believe that, Dear Diary? Is enough to turn me stomach. The general secretary is supposed to be the “brains man” in the party. I is the brains man. Rolf used to think he got brains, but he ain’t got brains.
He know some book stuff, but Ah got street smarts. And now that I turn lawyer in me old age, I got book smarts plus street smarts. You know, Dear Diary, I coulda been a contender. If only Ah coulda keep me mouth shut. Ah shoulda tell merely “Keep yuh so and so mouth shut!” (Excuse me Dear Diary… Ah go to finish the bush rum.)

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