Let’s allow our imagination wander in a moment of confusion, and then, bam, let’s admit that a little more than half of the Senegalese population, which makes up more than the majority of the electorate, after careful reflection, notes that, for sixty-four years, the males have done nothing good at the head of the Republic of Senegal and vote without trembling for a female candidate…

So, here; we finally have a woman at the Palace. Let’s calm down: it will be anything but simple. To tell the truth, there are a multitude of proposals for the future coming from our irreplaceable companions.

Among the candidates, that distinguished technocrat, a slightly masculine person who has been traveling the country for a decade; the intractable outraged feminist, who takes over social networks and imposes her edicts and commandments; and, finally, the discolored drianké, a submissive niârêl probably, victim of a polygamous trap, kneeling at the feet of her father and the scum who goes with her, docile towards her father-in-law and his smala, devoted to her husband and his group of friends then, an American star, who devotes herself body and soul to her marabout.

In summary, an association of thugs brings her to power…

Senegal being a blessed land, we others, slaves of our Destiny, by some miracle seasoned with an alchemy of baraka, we escape the worst and fall on the best.

First hypothesis, the most probable: she is a technocrat, a bit of a tomboy, as stiff as Justice, straight in her boots. The deep voice, the sober dress, the rare makeup, the forbidden heels, the short hair, the short nails.

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The drama of her life: an only child, she grew up surrounded only by boys, her strapping brothers whose pants she has clung to since her early childhood.

Bottom line, she knows all the bad things that men think of women. And she almost believes them.

So, we don’t have her: she looks down on women and sideways at men. Thank God, nothing stops her, her fiery temperament obliges, she’s a go-getter. This is why she broke a few sixty-metre records during school championships before she turned eighteen.

In addition to being a compulsive top of the class. Number two, she doesn’t know. Prize of excellence in the General Competition, she would be the imam of her neighbourhood if this filthy patriarchal society allowed it.

In summary, Madam top of the class doubts nothing. Except for the salvation of her sinful soul during her onset of nymphomania mixed with some lesbian inclination after childhood, because her best friend sticks too close to her during her moments of heat…

It’s an order: Satan, get out of this body!
Should we remind ourselves? Idleness is the mother of all vices… To keep busy, you have to find a solution. And then, one fine day, the inevitable existential question arises when we think of ourselves as more than nothing: why not enter politics?

A dilemma that comes at the right time: people have been thinking about changing the world for a long time.

And so, drumbeat, it leads two battles: to its right, the rise of the professional marches; to the left, the crossing of the political desert.

The crossroads arrives…

Madam the future President finds herself faced with the choice of making her fortune in the private sector, after she plants her flag at the top of the hierarchy, at the head of a multinational whose corridors  she had been walking for decades, avoids its traps and puts on – traps, assassinates those who resist progress…

Or, after counting her hard-earned savings, which still make for a comfortable financial mattress, Her Excellency in power gives up by slamming the door of her generous employers to embrace the thankless destiny of political uncertainties.

Exactly, when it comes to marriage: she has neither the time nor the desire to fool around. In a moment of confusion, she wakes up one morning with a handsome, characterless guy in her bed, brought back from a slightly drunken evening, an evening of libidinal overheating. He is so happy to be in her bed that she does not dare break his happiness and marries him.

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The husband of Madam the future President, who holds his own, immediately warns his family, already exempt from dowry, that the troubles of the in-laws are not for his wife. Translation: keep up your demands for ndawtal, lèk’ou ndèye, lèk’ou bâye, téranga ndieuké, tânk’ou badieune de Tabaski and other reasons for family rackets.

He, future consort President, is the lucky guy in the affair, not the opposite…

She warns him from the start: he, fatal spouse, is for her like a hunchback and its hump: you have to carry him, that’s life. In simple language, a gigolo who can consider himself lucky not to be a beaten husband…

This question settled, can we speak to the priorities of the Republic?

So here is Madam President at the Palace. Scrupulous of the parity enshrined in the Constitution, Her Excellency obliges herself to appoint a male as Prime Minister. We must therefore examine gender before competence.

Important clarification: it is not a question of size, but of gender…

To give a guilty conscience to all these machos who have occupied the Republic’s pied-à-terre located on avenue Léopold Sédar Senghor since 1960, Madam President obsessively observes the rules of parity… In the disorder, let’s put it like this: there is a male Chief of Staff, followed by a female Chief of Staff; if there is a Secretary General, obviously, at her heels, it will be a Special Advisor…

Of course, it will be a constitutional dolphin, in the National Assembly, marked in the pants by a vice-president. We’ll spare you the details of the Parliamentarians’ Executive Office…

On the government side, it won’t be a joke either: the Prime Minister will be stuck in the hierarchy with a Minister of the Armed Forces. A General preferably, black belt in judo, karate and full contact, sniper, former paratrooper ready to bring order to the Council of Ministers in the event of male excesses.

Without a doubt, a Head of State at the Palace promises many strong emotions…

We bet? The first decree that will fall: a major referendum to bring all Senegalese citizens back to an equal footing, the bill on monogamy or full polygamy… Either men are only entitled to one wife, or women can have more husbands.

Do you want my opinion? Well, I’ll give it to you anyway: I’m enjoying it!

By Ibou FALL