I celebrated Heroes Day in style. By celebrating in style I mean that this time I was not hunting in the usual hunting grounds. You will not believe this but I know you will be thrilled all the same by my audacious and adventurous nature.
I happened to learn rather too late that last weekend was one of those weekends that are known as ‘the civil servants’ weekend.’ In other words, it was a long weekend, owing to the fact that there would not be any going to work after Sunday.
This meant that there would be no Monday blues because the ‘blues’ would definitely be shifted to Tuesday.
Weekends of this calibre are known as civil servants’ weekends because civil servants are known to have little passion for what they are paid to do and therefore celebrate heavily whenever there is any reason that will see them stay away from work a day or two.
They are so much into claiming and counting the days due for leave and they may hate the blood, but they really like its colour on a calendar date. Let me spare these fellas for now; because yours truly is one of them.
When I learnt that the coming week there would be Tuesday blues rather than Monday blues, my mind went racing, trying to find a ‘plot.’
As I was trying to do some calculations on the drawing board, a light flashed in my mind! It is then that I remembered that I have always wanted to do something heroic so that I can make my way to the list of this country’s heroes.
Joining the RDF was out of question because I am not the military type. I may not be afande turashize to run when bullets start falling like rain but what I am sure of is the fact that I cannot survive a week without being in the company of birds.
This cannot be provided on the frontline. Therefore, I am not planning to earn a hero’s mention through shooting. Hunting is my trade.
Remind me: when a hunter become leader of a nation, his bird is given the title ‘First bird.’ I am wondering what title is given to a hunter in the event that his bird becomes leader.
Any help? Well, never mind because my intention here is not to earn an intimidating title but to be hero. As I was saying, in the course of trying to think hard, my mind zeroed in on the new bird on the block.
Well, she may be an old bird that has stood the test of time, but don’t they say ‘wine tastes better with age?’ My target bird was none other than the bird that is so bold to think that she can be able to use her wit to assure people of Rwanda to help her to milk cows she never fed. I like her guts.
With guts like hers, I am sure that she might easily be able to intimidate people into giving it up to her and voila! She is President of the Republic of 1K hills and that would mean that yours truly would automatically become first hunter…or whatever!
That is how I set out on the ‘campaign trail’ (by the way, the bird has even started campaigning around the country despite the fact that she has not yet registered her party and neither has the official campaign date reached – how bold!).
I spent the whole Saturday asking around and following her trail. But whenever I reached where she had been, I would be informed that she had just left. Saturday did not yield anything tangible.
I woke up very early on Sunday to begin the trail, this time going to her home (I will not tell you the location, for personal reasons) but I was told that she had not spent the night there.
Damn! Sunday was also unfruitful. Monday was Hero’s Day so I went to join the nation in commemorating heroes’ day, for, deep down I was convinced that I am a hero in the making. I could already hear the words being shouted out on the next Heroes’ Day.
“Bird hunter made it to the list of the most prominent heroes of this country by hunting a hitherto poisonous bird and managed to help it get rid of all the poison and turning it into a good national that does not see Rwandans through the ethnic lens.” I am still dreaming on!