Mad Journalist of South Sudan On Impossible Mission

"Isn't he the journalist who writes in the newspaper?" They wondered aloud. "What has gotten into his head today? What substance did he smoke or drink to cause him to behave like a lunie?"

By Victor Lugala

The guy ran amok, pencil tucked behind his right ear, a tattered notebook peeped from the pocket of his jeans trousers, and a stick of cigarette burned his fingers.
He puffed and huffed, dodging traffic in the narrow streets of Juba: sleek cars driven by impatient drivers, Torontoed bodabodas zoomed at maddening speed, goats, stray dogs on heat, cats, men, women.
People in the street looked at him in disbelief. They knew him, but today they didn't want to know him.
"Isn't he the journalist who writes in the newspaper?" They wondered aloud. "What has gotten into his head today? What substance did he smoke or drink to cause him to behave like a lunie?"
The guy dropped the cigarette butt in a gutter, blew his nose to the world, and spat obscenities.
He swung under a footbridge, searched around, negative!
Disappointed, he ran away to a row of kiosks. He went from one kiosk to another, searching the shelves with his eyes. Negative!
School children ran away from him for fear of being mowed down by a fresh mad man. "What is he looking for, this young man?" All eyes in the street rested on him.
"Hey, young man, are you looking for your wife who ran away with a rich old man?" The street people teased.
The guy saw a nearby church and dashed in, straight to the alter. He looked at Jesus Christ on a wooden cross and said Amen.
He searched under a big table, ripping off the tablecloth. Negative!
He looked at the sealing with piercing eyes. Negative!
He walked down the isle, his red eyes darted left and right. Negative!
He ran away to a government department. He looked at the mournful faces of the civil servants. Their blank faces said 'no salaries.' Suspicion! He said nothing and turned his back in protest.
He suddenly turned around, went to an open window, peeped into the room stuffed with misery. He sneezed. Negative!
He uttered disappointment.
Back to the street of madness.
The guy saw a rubbish can and walked over. He lifted the lid and overweight flies hit his face. Rot! He pinched his nose and walked away.
He went to a university campus with buildings which looked like a mental hospital. He searched the lecture halls. Negative!
He thought about a mosque. He remembered to remove his dusty shoes before entering. There were mats waiting for him and abandoned slippers. Negative!
AND. FINALLY.....
He went to a police post. He looked around, suspiciously.
 
"Hey, what are you looking for? Who do you want to see?" A police voice asked.
 
"I'm looking for PRESS FREEDOM," the guy replied.
 
"Are you mad?" Said the police voice. Bitter.
Posted in: Opinions
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