Bakhabaru Exclusive: Interview with DO ‘analysts’ and ‘experts’

by Mohamed Headset

Much controversy is raging on about the ‘experts’ and ‘analysts’ that have voiced their opinions on Maldives #1 spoof site, Dhivehi Observer or DO, as it is popularly known on some of the uninhabited planets of the solar system. Who are these mysterious and unnamed analysts who seem to know everything about nothing and nothing about everything? How did His Gloriousness Mr Sappe manage to snare such amazing talent to work for him, or for that matter, even speak to him? These are just some of the questions that have been asked by locals over the years since DO went online. Answers to other questions like “Are they single?” or “Do they watch Oprah?” have also so far remained a mystery. But with keyboard in hand, fearless Bakhabaru reporters Ali Antenna and Ahmed Satellite have once again risked life, limb, drowning, alcohol, several stray cats, the Statue of Liberty, a stale pizza and Bakhabaru team’s dilapidated laptop (running Windows 95 at blazing snail’s pace) to bring you the answers to the questions that have been burning in the minds of DO readers since His Gloriousness Mr Sappe first set his beady eyes, slightly glazed with too much alcohol, on the figurative throne of Maldives.

Antenna and Satellite arrived at Glorious Mr Sappe’s palatial mansion in Glasglow, Scotland, after a short trip in their privately owned (because they were too embarrassed to make it public) amphibious dinghy. Sappe was just showing Maldivian Dictator Golhaabo or Maldivian President Gayoom (it was difficult to tell because he was wearing gloves) out from his mansion. The two intrepid reporters stayed respectfully aside as Golhaabo (or Gayoom) passionately hugged and thanked Sappe for the wonderful job he was doing of making the main opposition party seem like a bunch of ridiculous inept idiots, hell bent on conspiracy theories. Glorious Sappe reassured Gayoom (or Golhaabo) that he would do his best to spread stupidity and lameness across Maldives with his website and continue to showcase the MDP as the champion in the war of dunces. Golhaabo (or Gayoom) then wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eyes, and sighing, entered his rented black limousine and drove away. An hour or so later, after the long line of armed guards and motorcade that flanked and accompanied Gayoom (or Golhaabo) had finally managed to leave the area, the Bakhabaru reporters were met by Glorious Sappe in traditional butler outfit, who showed them inside and took them to where the meeting was to take place.

Once Antenna and Satellite were comfortably seated they told Glorious Mr Sappe of the reason for their trip and he immediately agreed to let the reporters interview his sources, provided that they agreed that each ‘analyst’ and ‘expert’ be asked only a few questions. Antenna and Satellite promptly agreed, upon which glorious Sappe excused himself and told him that he would send in his ‘military analyst’, ‘political expert’ and ‘expert and analyst in general’ one after the other.

One minute later a man clad in camouflage gear and armed to the teeth marched in and cut a salute that would have brought a tear to the most psychotic drill-sergeant’s eye. He then marched forward and shouted a command to himself to stand at ease. Antenna and Satellite were shocked to find that other than the military fatigues he was wearing (and the beret that was pulled over the man’s hair) he looked exactly like His Gloriousness Mr Sappe!

After a while Satellite cleared his throat and both reporters carefully edged towards ‘Military Sappe’.

“Er, your Gloriousness?” Antenna eventually ventured.

“Excuse me?” the man said.

“Who’re you?” asked Satellite the Tactless.

“I am the Military Analyst for DO,” said the Military Analyst. “My real name is, if I had one, so highly classified even I don’t know it. I doubt even my mother knows it, that is if I even had a mother.”

“I may be way off base here, but you have a striking resemblance to His Gloriousness,” Antenna asked, still carefully scrutinizing the Military Analyst’s face.

“Just a coincidence,” said the Military Analyst promptly. “We’ve even done DNA tests to prove that I am not His Gloriousness.”

“How about the evil twin theory? Like in the case of Gayoom and Golhaabo?” Satellite asked pencil poised over notebook.

“Ridiculous!”

“But how can we know for sure that you are no in fact His Gloriousness?” Satellite hadn’t gotten where he was, or anywhere else, for lack of curiosity and skepticism.

“Aha! I was hoping you would ask,” the Military Analysts brightened up. “It’s for just these occasions that I carry proof around with me.”

“You carry the DNA reports with you all the time?” said Satellite, impressed. As far as he was concerned no one could beat a man who carried evidence of his innocence from and about everything with him at all times.

“Even better,” Military Analyst confided and leaned forward. “Come closer. See here, on the right side of my nose. See that mole? There’s your evidence!”

There was a moment of painful silence, followed immediately by an even more painful moment of noise as both reporters cracked heads together in their haste to examine the proffered proboscis. After a careful examination both reporters leaned back.

“And this is evidence of…”Antenna began.

“…what exactly?” Satellite finished.

“That I am not His Gloriousness, of course!” said the Military Analyst. “See, the real His Gloriousness Mr Sappe does not have a mole on his nose. There’s your evidence!”

“Aah,” said Antenna slowly. “I see.”

“Pretty good trick!” said Satellite, tapping his forefinger to the side of his own nose conspiratorially. “That is pretty compelling evidence, I have to admit. Most people would have missed that, surely.”

The Military Analyst suddenly stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. It’s a full time job being a Military Analyst. I have military stuff that needs analyzing.”

“But…” began Satellite.

“We haven’t even begun the questions…” wailed Antenna.

“Sorry. I will send in the Political Expert shortly.” And with that DO’s famous Military Analyst walked out.

Two minutes later the door opened again and in walked someone who at first glance again appeared to be His Gloriousness Mr Sappe. But of course, by then our intrepid reporters had learnt not to trust their eyes and ears when dealing with His Gloriousness. This Sappe-lookalike was immaculately dressed in expensive clothing, a thick head of hair – slightly off kilter, owning to the fact that it was probably a wig –that had been slicked back in greasy strands and sporting a smile that illuminated a good few feet ahead of him. He looked around the room and immediately spotted the two Bakhabaru reporters and made a beeline for them, his hand extended in front of him like a battering ram.

“Aaah, if it isn’t the extraordinary reporters of Bakhabaru,” the man said, still all the way across the room and shouting to be heard across it. “I have heard so much about you. World famous in Maldives I hear. Good, good. Very good. Let me shake you by the hand. Such a great pleasure. Delighted, absolutely, completely and utterly delighted to have made your acquaintance.” By now he had reached the reporters and as promised shook their hands – along with all the other attached parts – for a good long time in a two handed shake that the reporters didn’t recover from for full two minutes.

“And you must be…” began Satellite, shaking his head to clear the effects of the handshake and fishing in his shirt pocket for his sunglasses to protect against the glare of teeth in front of him.

“ASIM, Political Expert for DO, of course,” said ASIM, beaming even more widely if possible; an event not unlike a solar flare.

“And you aren’t related to…” started Antenna, squinting into the teethy brilliance.

“Of course not!” said ASIM, quite shocked. “I am even offended that you even thought so. I look nothing like His Gloriousness, for one thing. See, I even have a wig… I mean hair. For another, I even dress more impeccably. But I see by your expressions that you still don’t believe me so I will have to provide undeniable proof.” With that he began taking off his expensive coat. His tie followed shortly. Then with a very vocal “Tadaa!” he ripped open his shirt, much like Superman does, showing off a veritable forest of chest hair that put Anil Kapoor and most primates to shame. “See there, near the left nipple. See that! Proof that I am not His Gloriousness Mr Sappe as most seem in here seem to think.”

Antenna and Satellite immediately donned their hiking gear and set off on an expedition through the forest of chest hair to search for and cut a path to the alleged evidence located near the foot of Mt Left Nipple. Their perseverance was rewarded moments later when they found a small beauty mark (not that the name aesthetically improved anything about the landmark) around the area. Antenna and Satellite put away their hatchets and hiking gear and leaned back, skeptics no more.

“What about your name?” asked Antenna after a few seconds of contemplative silence. “I can’t help but notice that your name seems an abbreviation of Ahmed Saee…”

“You, sir, have too much imagination!” interrupted ASIM, hurriedly. “That’s just a coincidence. Two coincidences don’t make a fact… hey! That’s a cool quote! Make sure you put that in the interview!”

“I suppose that’s true,” Antenna said almost to himself. “I guess I should give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Okay then, satisfied?” said ASIM, looking pretty satisfied himself. “Good. Now if there are no more questions you will have to excuse me. There are politics that need experting…”

“One more question if you please, Mr ASIM,” said Satellite rushing after the retreating figure, but pleased with for having managed to capitalize the letters in the expert’s name in an impressive verbal feat. “Why all the secrecy? Why do you always prefer to remain anonymous in the reports on DO?”

“Holy Fake News! Secrecy? What secrecy? There’s no secrecy! That’s blasphemous!” ASIM seemed totally aghast. “It’s not that I’m anonynyny… mouse but it just sounds so much cooler when you say Political Expert and Military Analyst! Besides, what would happen if people started realizing… I mean, thinking that it was only just me… I mean, His Gloriousness Mr Sappe alone who was writing all the comments and pretending to be some expert or analyst. People wouldn’t take DO seriously anymore. And we can’t have that, right? Seriously, there’s no secrecy. We like to keep things transparent here. In fact, I’ve asked all women who enter my palatial… er, this palatial mansion to wear transparent clothing. I’ve even designed some transparent hijab outfits for those occasions so that the fundies won’t feel left out.”

“That’s great news,” said Satellite, who hated any sort of discrimination. “Please don’t let us detain you any further. I bet those pesky politics needs constant experting to keep them in line.”

“You have no idea,” ASIM sighed heavily. Then after giving both Satellite and Antenna another dose of his version of a handshake in The Return of the Full Body Handshake, DO’s Political Expert, ASIM, made his exit, leaving the Bakhabaru reporters hugging the furniture in an effort to make the world stop rocking so much.

Precisely two minutes and three seconds later there was a shy knock on the door. As far as shy knocks went, this one would have tripped over its own feet and then gone and hidden behind a bush. When the door didn’t open Antenna opened it. Outside was a shy bespectacled man who, not surprisingly and but for the glasses, appeared to look exactly like His Gloriousness Mr Sappe. He was wearing a T-shirt tucked into his trousers and looked every bit the stereotypical geek.

“Let me guess,” said Antenna, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “You must be the Expert and Analyst in General?”

There was a vocal response from the bespectacled man, Antenna was sure of it, but the response was so low or high in the sound spectrum that only dogs would have been able to hear it. Antenna took that as a ‘yes’ anyway.

“No doubt you also happen to have a mole, excuse me… beauty mark on you somewhere that will prove without a doubt that you are not His Gloriousness Mr Sappe, right?”

The bespectacled Sappe look-alike nodded vigorously and began to unzip his trousers. Antenna shot a hurried glance at Satellite.

Antenna opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and then closed it, except for the corner through which he said: “I am afraid to ask where the mole is going to be this time.”

“I don’t think you will have to ask; he’s about to show it!” Satellite voice came back weakly, emphasizing the last word.

Meanwhile the Expert and Analyst in General had stripped off his trouser and was about to pull down his underwear, which incidentally was white with pink hearts. Each of the reporters grabbed the hand that was closest to them and managed to keep them from reaching the undy. The fingers of the Expert and Analyst in General wriggled and clenched as it tried to fight its way toward the underwear.

“I believe we are ready to take your word for it,” Antenna said desperately. “Won’t we, Satellite?”

“Yes, chief!” said Satellite through gritted teeth and concentrated on steering the man in the middle towards the exit. They just managed to push him out but before they could close the door the reaching digits finally reached their destination and completed the action that had been postponed by the combined might of the reporters. Then they managed to close the door shut with a loud bang. A muffled and high-pitched voice behind the door could be heard saying something that sounded like “if you will look closely you will see the mark here at the end of my d…”

“Phew!” said both reporters together, still leaning back against the door. “That was close!”

Minutes later they were being escorted outside by His Gloriousness Mr Sappe who asked the reporters to drop by anytime they wished and hoped that the interview had put to rest any doubts that had ever existed within their minds. The reporters wholeheartedly acknowledged the fact that the Experts and Analysts at DO were real, different people with totally different characteristics, hairpieces and other accessories and told His Gloriousness that they would do everything in their power to make the locals aware of that fact. As Sappe waved his half-empty whisky bottle to the departing reporters, Satellite, who had an eagle eye for details, commented on the fact that His Gloriousness was still wearing a green beret, a greasy slicked back hairpiece and a strangely familiar pair of glasses.

“Oh, that! Heh heh…” said His Gloriousness, sheepishly. There was a pause as he desperately wracked his brain for an explanation. “I was just er… checking to see… er how observant you were. I am glad that you are as sharp as ever.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Satellite, beaming. “Yes, I am that. Very sharp. Knives got nothing on me. So sharp I might hurt myself.”

“Truly,” said His Gloriousness. And with that our intrepid reporters took their leave and walked off into the sunset, or at least in the general direction of a sunset somewhere.