There is a spring to my steps. I feel the claps of party members behind me. They are jubilant. I am happy I can't contain myself. I stride to the podium. A white paper at the centre with the Bible a little to the side. My oath, no doubt. I take the stand. With a practised hand, I sweep up the piece of paper. The Bible is inserted into my raised left. I am ready!
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Who is this guy?! The jazz goes on smoothly behind us. This tune sounds familiar? A rendition of a famous old song? Any Kenyan could know it. I can't see. I wish I could turn. Ooh? What is this? My view suddenly changed!
A band is on stage. The lead singer belts out the tune in a comfortable, original voice—too original, I can gauge that he is no professional. But what catches the eye are his clothes: a white khaki shirt, black trousers, and shoes. The accompanying band members are not much different either, and there is a guy in the back dressed in full traditional chieftains' regalia.
Scanning the room, there is an unbelievable sense of formality for the inside of a club. European suits interspersed with black and white Kaundas. Look at this crowd; African elites with white settlers enjoying themselves at tables all around. On the dancing floor, a mama in a leso matches her movements with her hubby's. Left foot, right foot… Get out of here! Someone just passed by in a kitenge. That guy should be hanged!
---
We are at an upscale bar at the biggest table, making the loudest noise. After the ceremony, we arrived here while Mzee was itching to cool his parched throat. Who is this guy again? The newly minted Prime Minister of the soon-to-be independent nation of Kenya. Who am I? A humble citizen from the future unknowingly inside his body.
"You saw how I picked up the good book?"
"It was very well done, sir. Truly refined. Worthy of a Pan-African leader."
"Just like Nkurumah!"
"Yeah, just like Nkurumah."
After downing a few beers, Mzee is in a good mood. Also, he is surrounded by his people, and it is the best day of his life! He can't help but loosen his tongue.
"That white man did it. I would drink to him, too bad he doesn't drink. Let's drink to their speedy exit out of our country!"
"I will drink to that."
That boast was completely unnecessary! As our toasts go up, I see glares sneakily shot our way. Others, though not looking, have their ears perched up, catching our every word. Not that Mzee minds the extra attention.