Dear Jimmy Cherizier, alias Barbecue.
Greetings from the Hustler Nation Police Headquarters, in uptown Nairobi, hoping this letter finds you well.
It has taken us long to write to you, because we had held this long-standing belief that you are a reasonable man who can read the writing on the wall and turn yourself in before we come to massage your neck, but from the look of things the only thing you can read are the tattoos on your chest.
When the United States of America approached us to come to Haiti and reorganize your dental formula to stop you from talking too much – we had thought oral hygiene was your only underlying problem - but after watching your monotonous videos strutting along your nation’s capital with your amateur gang members, we have come to the conclusion that we may have to also carry along the head of the Kenya Police psychiatric department because you also need your head checked.
While it is not in the nature of the Hustler Nation Police to write letters to bandits at home and away, we have decided to break protocol because how else would you know that we are headed by a Minister who is a law professor who earns a living from threatening criminals while surrounded by a contingent of armed security personnel? After warning bandits in Baringo, Samburu, Elgeyo Marakwet, Pokot and Turkana Counties to stop killing people, it is now your turn, Mr Barbecue, to face the wrath of our strong statements.
We have seen you conducting media interviews warning the Kenya Police of dire consequences if we dare step into your country to greet you in the name of the Lord. Let nothing lie to you that you are badass, Mr Barbecue, because the day we shall check into that island nation with our world renowned, highly acclaimed, second-to-none, anti-riot fighter police, you will know why Irish potatoes left Ireland and established a base in Kinangop.
This is a message to Jimmy Cherizier, alias Barbecue, or whatever he calls himself these days from his hideout in the Port of Prince. Let that menacing gun you keep flaunting across your puffy chest not lie to you, my brother.
The dreaded Kenya Police are about to check into the murder scene and all that bravado is about to disappear into the thin air like Oscar Sudi when asked to greet us in English. And if you think we are bluffing, it would do you good to ask Azimio protestors who are still walking around with our diamond mark of quality one year after we had stamped our authority on their bodies .
Before you ask who Azimio protestors are and how easy it was for us to vanquish them, allow us to paint a clear picture to you so you don’t get it twisted.
Long, long, time ago, in a faraway land nestled within the broader shoulders of Western Lake Victoria was once a military jurisdiction called Kondele. Named after a peaceful sojourner from Siaya who had been travelling for months looking for resting place for his weary back, Kondele was once a swampy mash of serrated reeds declared unfit for human inhabitation due to its permanent hosting of parasitic malaria causing mosquitos.
With this deadly reputation for claiming human casualties at the slightest provocation, Kondele became a no-go zone for man and beast alike, until one man, known as Ondele, long time ago, decided to step into the marshy ring and dared the menacing mosquitoes to put their venom where their mouths were.
At first, the mosquitoes thought they were dreaming seeing a full size image of a human dare at close range, finally. The mosquito head honcho - let’s call him Barbecue – summoned an emergency meeting of all his subjects inside their makeshift war room to discuss whether what they had seen was indeed real. Mosquitoes who attended the classified meeting, and who spoke to the animal press on condition of anonymity, remember witnessing their gang leader shaking like a leaf at the confirmation that their long-held menacing fortress had been finally breached.
This is the Kondele that the Kenya Police went to in search of protestors who had called for the lowering of skyrocketing food prices, those days when the Kenya Shilling was dancing around the pit latrine hole.
Unlike that Haiti Barbecue who buzzes around the ears of his adversaries like those Kondele mosquitoes, we will let our anti-riot gear do the talking for us, because at the Kenya Police inhaling teargas is our daily bread.
Let no one lie to you, Mr Barbecue, that the Kenya Police need the help of the United States to show you what we are made of. Money is not the primary reason the Kenya Police have volunteered to come to Haiti.
We are coming to Haiti to do the Lord’s work as commanded of us in the holy scriptures, because we are the God chosen police, who derive their mandate from Benny Hinn Ministries, and we are coming to wash you with anointed water drawn from the pool of Siloam Kayole.
While we may be famous for breaking into peaceful rallies and brutalizing unarmed protestors for sport, the strength of the Kenya Police neither lies in the bullets we spray nor the unmarked Subaru Outbacks we pick our opponents with. The Bible says in Exodus 15:2, that “the Lord is our strength and our defence; we will praise and exalt Him.”
Let that Barbecue know that “for though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” This is the message according to 2 Corinthians 10:3-5, but Barbecue wouldn’t know because the only thing he can read is the graffiti on the wall bearing his head.
