Ooooops! They are at it again!

Mid this week I was rudely awaken to the shocking news of a bird in Gatsibo who had dispatched her hunter to the next life. In 2010, really! Of course, I all along suspected that the good nature that generally prevailed among the human fowls at the close of 2009 was kind of ominous. It was too good to be genuine. During the launch of the Mzee Mutsinzi report, we were told that the bird of afande kinani might have been part of the plan hatched by the inner circle to bring down her hunter’s metallic bird from the skies. On hearing this piece of news, I shuddered. What did we hunters do to deserve the violent wrath of birds? At the end of 2009 my worry was that birds would resort again to their savage ways and now my fears have come to pass. It is my desperate hope that this is merely a secluded case that is not representative of the general atmosphere that we should expect in 2010 otherwise some of us might not live to enjoy the good times that come with the end of the year. The news of the Gatsibo bird brought to memory a bird that I charmed on the weekend who made me suspect that there was ‘an evil mystic flowing through the air.’ The bird, despite having been totally enchanted by my style, kept eyeballing me from the corner of her eye, a gesture that, after what happened in Gatsibo, I now understand meant she was contemplating doing something evil to me. I was lucky I did not get involved in extra-curricular activities while I was with her otherwise I would be with afande Kazini right now, both of us looking down from our lonely corner up there, pitying all the hunters that are still hassling on earth not knowing when a bird will bring their activities to a halt. When the going gets tough, the bird gets going. Trust the bird hunter to have a plan B whenever faced by challenges. That is why, since hearing the news from Gatsibo, I have decided to take serious security precautions whenever I go bird hunting. On examining the mode of demise of all the hunters who have met their ends through the hands of birds, I realized that majority of them received blows of a blunt object on their cranium. The birds know thoroughly well that this is the most sensitive part of a human being and no one can survive if the blow is well delivered. I suspect that these birds have been having secret meetings that we don’t know about and there must be a bird commando from the Special Forces training them. As things stand, they are all out to ensure that the world is swept clean of hunters. If their plans do work then there will not be any gallant hunters left; only coward wannabe hunters. Anyhow, since I will not accept to just be converted to past tense without a fight, I have decided to go moto. By going moto I am not talking about becoming a mumotaari. Rather, I want to borrow their road safety device known as a helmet. This one will not be exactly the unstylish type that they give their passengers. Remember, I am a bird hunter of substance and that is why I am going to order for a factory made special designer helmet with my name ‘Bird Hunter’ inscribed on it. It will not exactly look like a helmet because once a potentially violent bird finds out that I am wearing a helmet, she might decide to use other means to ensure that her intentions do materialize. That is why I will order for my helmet that will look like Kaguta junior’s trademark hat. I will put this on whenever I will be out hunting and whenever a bird asks why I have resorted to putting on hats like an old man I will tell her that this is election year and I was intending to stand for election hence the need to make myself conspicuous. I am sure that this will also serve as promotion for my bird hunting since any bird would not resist associating with a future politician. Please don’t blow my cover. Ends