There’s going to be an election, we hear. A presidential election. A few days from now, if I remember
right. So the question is, what do we,
as Kolombians, do on Election Day? Some ideas
crossed my mind, but before I get to them let me make some preliminary comments
on this election. From a Kolombian point
of view of course.
Do we really care?
No. Not at all. If this nation is a feudal estate, we are the
lords and ladies. The rest are
serfs. They do the hard work, we reap
the rewards. It’s as simple as
that. This is why I now feel that we
have executed a fantastic coup, considering that there’s no Kolombian
contesting but our interests are safe because the contestants will take care of
them. They have to sweat. One of them gets elected. It doesn’t matter who gets elected, either
way it is scripted that our behinds are well covered.
You see, we have reconciled ourselves to the fact that it is
unlikely that this country will ever get a Kolombian ruler. We are pragmatic enough to go with Plan
B: If we can’t get a Kolombian
president, we get a yakko to think
he/she is the real boss, get enough and more ego-boosts, frill him/herself to
heart’s content but in the end ensure that we remain the untouchables that we
are. Elections, ladies and gentlemen,
are like free lunches. We get what we
want without lifting a finger!
So that’s already sorted.
We really don’t care who wins this election. The only cause for concern is that
Maithripala doesn’t have a Christian name, unlike Mahinda, who is also ‘Percy’
and at least in that respect qualified to get some kind of affiliated
membership in our exclusive club. No
worries though. We can live with a
Mahinda, we can live with a Maithripala.
And, in case you are wondering, although we would have to migrate en masse if Duminda Nagamuwa or
Sirithunga Jayasuriya won, there’s no chance whatsoever of that happening.
Let us consider options for Election Day. It’s a Thursday. When the rest of the country kid themselves
into thinking that they actually count, stand in line to vote thinking the
candidate of their choice would actually represent them (and not us) in the hot
sun or in damp weather conditions, we can do what we’ve always done: work. Don’t confuse work with labor now. Our work
is about getting others to work, doing very little ourselves and making sure
that the bucks roll into our bank accounts.
We can do this in plush offices or we can put up our feet in our own
drawing rooms, make a few calls, press a few keys on our smart phones and get
the same result.
Most of us would give our non-Kolombian staff half-day’s
leave to vote. We can enjoy watching
them scuttling off ‘to be counted’ (as though they were cattle) or we can take
off ourselves. We would no doubt pass a
couple of polling booths and so we can watch non-Kolombians ‘exercising their
franchise,’ the poor devils. We don’t
have to strain our eyes gazing on that sorry sight though. We can go hang out with fellow-Kolombians in
one of our favorite clubs.
Some of us would no doubt celebrate the monumental charade
by going as far away as possible from our relevant polling stations. To Galle,
for example. On the Southern Express
Highway, for example. To have ‘Avacado
Prawns’ for example.
Some will stay at home.
Spend some time with the family.
Watch a movie, using the pause-button to check how our investments are
doing. Sleep. That’s an option too.
The bottom line is, this election is not about us; at least
not when it comes to the whole business of standing in line to vote, casting
the vote, the counting of votes and the announcement of the winner. That’s the hard work that others do. We just sit back and relax, thrilled by the
knowledge that the world has not changed – others work, we benefit.
We are the leisure class and Election Day is as good as any
to assert the fact. It is unthinkable
and even unfair for anyone to expect us Kolombians to rub shoulders with the
riff-raff. Not on Election Day. Not
ever. We have better things to do,
alright?
So if you want to ‘sight’ a Kolombian on Election Day, get
ready to be disappointed. I am putting the word out: ‘don’t dirty your
manicured hands by fiddling with ballot papers and have some yakko official paint the tip of your
index finger with a purple felt pen’.
And by the way, just so you know I am serious about all
this, I tore my ballot card.
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