I stepped into a darkened room, lit only by a single red light which hung over a white satin couch. And there, draped over the couch in seductive pose lay the notorious Dolly Sexier, draped in a red silk dressing gown. ‘Spectator Kalaki,’ she purred, ‘I always prefer men with lighter skins. I can always see what they’re doing in the dark. What can I do for you? What are your preferences? Come and sit here, nice and close.’
‘I just wanted to talk about politics,’ I said, as she nuzzled up to me.
‘Sex and politics, all the same thing,’ she laughed. ‘There so much politics in sex, and so much sex in politics. Which one do you want? I’m more than willing to take either position.’
‘I’m particularly interested in the sex in politics,’
‘Delightful,’ she giggled. ‘A good choice. Let’s try a bit of foreplay before we get to the heart of the matter. Which end would you like to start?’
‘With your middle finger,’ I said, as she fondled my beard.
‘Everybody enjoys my naughty middle finger,’ she chuckled, as she stuck her tongue into my ear.
‘I was wondering more about the finger’s meaning rather than its sexual activity,’ I said bravely, as the finger began to explore other places. ‘The whole nation is wondering what you meant when you raised your middle finger at the Speaker. Some say you were pointing at the dilapidated ceiling, telling him it needs to be repaired. Some say that you rather fancy him, and you were beckoning him to follow you to your boudoir. But others say it was a rude gesture, meaning Up Yours!’
‘Typical of you men,’ she sighed, ‘you are always trying to use your middle finger as a weapon to threaten us women. But if a woman dares to raise a finger at a man, he suddenly becomes frightened that the woman is trying to claim the power of his middle finger.’
‘Oooh,’ I said, as she ran her middle finger down my spine, ‘where is this going?’
‘Look,’ she said, when a woman raises her middle finger to a man it just means that she is trying to get him to stand up like a man. The poor old Speaker had gone completely soft and was a disgrace to his manhood. Instead of standing up for himself, and standing up for parliament, the silly old fellow had been behaving like a puppet in the Muppet Show, taking instructions from his puppeteer. There is nothing more pathetic than a man who can’t stand up for himself when the occasion demands. All the other men in parliament were so downcast by his inability to perform that they also failed to stand up for themselves. So I raised my middle finger, telling them to Stand Up!’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I also felt sad at how they all just curled up and shrank.’
‘Not like you, Kalaki,’ she said, as she gave my ear a little nibble, ‘you can stand up when the occasion demands.’
‘I have had my moments,’ I admitted.
‘I know,’ she purred. ‘We were there together.’
‘So where is this going, ooh, ah, …’ I spluttered.
‘Try to keep your mind on the interview,’ she purred. ‘We women are able to multi-task, you know.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I was distracted for a moment by your middle finger. Where is it going?’
‘I am going to start my own party, these men are just useless. They pretend to be so much more powerful than us women, but when we need them to stand up for us, they just flop. First there was the UNIP, the United Institution of Patriarchy. Then came the MMD, the Mighty Male Dictatorship. And now, even worse, the Phallic Force. All of them with men on top and women underneath, and then the men just flop. So I’m going to start another party!’
‘What will it be called?’
‘I shall take all the women from both the MMD and the PF, and therefore I shall call it the MF.’
‘The Middle Finger. And that will also be our sign. One middle finger in the air!’
‘And what will be the party slogan?’
‘Stand up for us and we shall sit on you!’
‘So the women will be on top?’
‘Instead of Women’s Day we shall have Men’s Day. I shall take the salute as the men march past, all raising their middle fingers, to show that they are able to stand up for women.’
‘So it will be matriarchy?’
As she raised one knee I glimpsed a flash of succulent thigh. ‘No,’ she said, ‘we shall show them the middle way.’
‘Men and women will lie together as equals?’
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Equality begins in the bedroom. And just as we unite as equals in the bedroom, we shall unite the nation. Bemba will marry Tonga and produce a new tribe of Bonkers; Apansi will marry Apamwamba and produce Apansimwamba; Muntu will marry Musungu and produce Muntusungu…’
‘Man will marry woman and produce humans,’ I suggested.
‘We must give it a try,’ she purred, as she held me closer. ‘We must set an example.’
‘But soon,’ I said, desperately trying to divert her attention, ‘the Speaker is likely to call you into his chambers to explain the behaviour of your naughty middle finger!’
Her dressing gown slipped from her shoulders as she leant forward to run her naughty middle finger up my leg. ‘Providing me with a lovely opportunity,’ she purred, ‘to show him how to stand up for Zambia!’