We don’t trust you’re well, after receiving your warning letter this week threatening us with bad things if we don’t allow the FKF Executive Committee to return to their offices to close their curtains.
While we apologise for not letting them go back home with their belongings that day, the decision to surround the FKF offices with alcohol detection gadgets was arrived at to save office property from those drunk with football power.
We took this pre-emptive security measure out of the need to guarantee the health of public funds from those with sticky fingers. At a time the whole world is united in fighting the ravages of Covid-19, anyone intending to handle public money must first wash their hands with anti-corruption soap, otherwise germs will start thinking they have friends in the Government of Kenya.
From the outset, we’d like to clarify that we fully support Fifa’s quest to fight unemployment. If anyone should’ve received your letter, it’s those FKF officials who’ve been scuttling our job-creation agenda by playing peek-a-boo with resources bought with our cash.
We also wish to thank you for accompanying your letter with a select choice of words bearing veiled threats. It’s clear FKF had gone out of their way to induct you into the Kenyan culture, where threats are part of our staple diet.
Cup of threats
We always knew Fifa was a fan of President Uhuru Kenyatta’s Big Four Agenda, especially on food security. Thanks for preparing for us a table in the presence of Kenya’s enemies of football. That letter ensured that our cup of threats was kept running over.
Our only worry with your letter is that it borrowed heavily from the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA) tax collection model that has been circulating lately.
We wish to clarify that when the President was announcing the knocking down of curfew rules, nowhere in his speech did he instruct KRA to procure measuring cylinders for enjoying life.
Instead of collecting taxes, the KRA have now joined our jealous relatives in policing social media. You wonder why we pay them handsomely to work hard not to go to heaven.
We have no problem if Fifa would love to see their grants being used to procure professional joyriding services, but no Kenyan will sacrifice their right to food as they first need the energy to dig money they’ll use to fill the pockets of football administrators.
You should know that Kenya is a country of freedom fighters. Dedan Kimathi didn’t go to the forest to help the United Nations restore peace between noisy hornbills and overtime woodpeckers. Those who went before us shed their blood for good governance so that we could kick a ball without looking over our shoulders for football officials who preach water and drink hubris.
A ban from all footballing activities will bring suffering, but Kenyans have gone through hell, so much that even suffering is now afraid of us.
A Fifa ban wouldn’t be worse than Covid-19, which made the police whip us for getting home late after shutting down our businesses for good. We slept on the cold prison cells for not wearing a mask the government was supposed to provide free of charge, so nothing scares us anymore; not even a text message from the lady we met at the bar saying we need to talk.
If we survived Mike Sonko as Nairobi governor, with his renewable energy tracksuits and irritating Mongolian twang, we can assure you we’ll wipe our mouths with a Fifa ban and thank you for helping us clean our teeth when we’re done washing the football sink.
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