"Can someone remove himself and wipe the black board?" ..long pause.. "if you don't want to rub the blackboard we are not continuing with our maths lesson; after all, mtu akianguka hataanguka kwa compound yangu". Said my no-nonsense mathematics teacher back in secondary school. His brand of English was crudely unique. Typical of people who think in Swahili or their mother tongue and express themselves in English. Some people call it direct translation. In this regard, PLO Lumumba is guilty; how else do you explain his complex but hilarious sayings ad metaphors? Speaking of PLO, I always thought his stuff was rehearsed until one Saturday morning he was caught at a traffic red light by The Standard newspapers' staffers at they launched their new-look Saturday newspaper - just by coincidence. He waxed lyrical about the design, headline, formatting etc of the publication that he'd have easily beat some astrophysicist's analogy of celestial realms at TED Talks.
What was I saying? Yes, or as one teacher Wanjiku would say: Ndioooo.. Kenyans have some peculiar English whose origin in my view, is clearly precolonial. It doesn't take a linguistic expert or one Philip Ochieng to conclude that ours is a mish mash of indigenous dialects and the queen's language. The end justifies the means, they say. The main objective is communication and as far as I know, communication happens; specially if the audience is Kenyan.. haidhuru! My English is no better; I have my teachers', interactions and fate to blame. I deliver my English with such accentual eloquence, not entirely devoid of direct translated Kiembu sayings; me thinks one Kiraitu Murungi would be jealous. True, I do it with impunity. It intrigues me.. Your (Kenyans) English fascinates me even more, so much that it's finally earned itself a post in my "serious" blog. Ahem!.. let's sample some interesting ones. Shall we?
We often conclude our emails, chats, texts and conversations with "be blessed" which is direct translation for "barikiwa". Note: unlike Philip Ochieng, I am not giving you alternatives. Suffice it to say that I have no better or seemingly more correct alternatives.. go figure. Some examples might be proper English, but I will still quote them because they just don't sound correct, at least not to my ears. Wacha nikuambie - Let me tell you. Sounds familiar? What of this one: Sasa ona - now see!! Unajua wakati mwingine - You know at times.... Si uninunulie ka soda hivi - buy me a soda like this. Wewe ni wetu - you are ours. Wewe ni mwingine - You are another one. My memory fails me. I get to hear countless of them in a day. I should probably carry along some diary and record them. These direct translations always brighten my day; over-use of some words and phrases vex me though. I loathe them.
Here are some cliche phrases and expressions that should be banned by the president and the commander in chief of the republic of Kenya: Waititu's favourite makes it top on my list: "First and foremost..". People with limited ideas will articulate them this way: "Firstly... secondly.. thirdly.. fourthly". Perhaps to emphasize the few points that must have taken a week to come up with. Are you doubting me? Ever heard such a person say "Tenthly" or "Fifteenthly"? Never, in fact they rarely reach "sixthly". This single phrase used in almost every sentence has successfully managed to trivialize most gravest and critical of situations: "By the way.." Example: "By the way Mr so and so is dead". Shebesh is very guilty of this phrase. Remember? "By the way we are not blondes". "Last but not the least.." is used by people whose sole intention is to piss me off; unfortunately, they succeed. Grrr!! I dare you to start your every other sentence with "Actually.." and we'll all be wondering whether you are related in any way to Jelimo the athlete. "Basically.." must be the most abused word in East and Central Africa. In fact, also south of the Sahara and north of the Limpompo. Did I just start my previous sentence with "Infact.."? See now.. ona sasa..
If you think you have seen it all, wait till you encounter folk who have recently learnt a new word or phrase and are more than eager to apply it in writing or speech. They are lethal human beings and try as you can, you wont make them drop it. Back in college, we had a very young lecturer taking us through a unit called Distributed Systems. Here's a sample lecture: "Today we are going to learn about the intricacies and heterogeneity of distributed systems. Examples of these are clustered server systems whose intricacies and heterogeneity is difficult to decipher. The intricacies and heterogeneity of these systems is characterized by more intricacies and heterogeneity of blah blah.... " *SIGH!!* Well, y'all can guess what I came out with in that unit...
Nuff Said!!
Thursday 31 October 2013
Tuesday 29 October 2013
VW Betty Chronicles..
Having hit a quarter a century above the ground; a couple of years back, I decided in Matsanga's term to "prochure" a 1968 Volkswagen Beetle as a birthday present, later on christened Betty. The other day I saw a clip of Emmy Kosgei speechless at the surprise wedding gift of a brand new BMW X6 (*sigh!!* na hawa wachunganji wataonyesha sisi wanakondoo mambo). Well, come to think of it, I can identify with Emmy Kosgei in two ways: I too was speechless plus my "new car", just like her's, was a German machine only that it was "above stones" ..err mm yaani juu ya mawe. Unlike Emmy though, mine was self-sponsored; I paid hard cash, sio cheque - Ksh50,000. The transaction happened at Nairobi West in the proximity of where currently one pastor Muriithi of House of Grace church plies is trade (got no beef with passies btw) and also where currently stands the new NHC blocks. Hitherto, it had old kanjo-like bungalows where the seller and immediately after my broker-of-a-mechanic-to-be resided.
After the transaction, tyres were fitted and quick first aid done. Elated, the seller offered to fuel the car himself (nikidhani aliweka soo mbili tu) and we waited for dark determined to evade hungry cops with a high affinity for insurance-free old cars. After dusk we hit the road. You should have seen my teary self; a mix of emotions: happy I have finally acquired my dream classic car and apprehensive that the posho mill sounding engine (it was too loud) powering the bug on "rickets wheels" would make it to my home. Well, we got home without incidences to the chagrin of my neighbours' who conspicuously peeped outside their windows perplexed at the rookie pilot who must have mistaken their parking space for Wilson airport and proceeded to land his chopper subsequently disturbing their peace. Betty was home!!
My bitter-sweet relationship with Betty started. Unlike chaps who buy new cars and value depreciation cum mechanical deterioration starts immediately, I gradually started my slow restoration. I must admit, Betty's restoration was informed more by mechanical functionality than aesthetics. For instance, the only reason that could lead me to replace a tyre was because the old one was so smooth that a mkamba would promptly bypass it in his akala production factory (pun intended). I did a complete engine overhaul of my 1200cc motor, worked on brakes, fitted a juakali glove compartment, fixed the roof and side panels, fitted a mediocre music system.. etc. All this time, I was driving the car, mostly on weekends. You'd be sure to see me on a Saturday afternoon whistling as I maneuvered through traffic thinking to myself, if the government ever demands all citizens who own cars to queue up for some Christmas goodies I as well would have made it, in fact I should have been the first on that queue.. I own a car. Damn!!
I've got some vivid hair-raising and humorous beetle memories some of which I'm gonna share right here and shelf the rest for another day. Ahem! It's end-month, on a fine Saturday evening as I watch soccer at some joint in Dagorreti corner. Earlier on I had fitted a new Chloride Exide battery hence solving all my ignition problems, or so I thought. I am on a balcony sipping my favourite lager, watching Arsenal whoop some team and throwing an occasional glance at my antique German automobile across the parking. It's 4am, enough lagers and dance moves later, we are ready to hit the road. Betty won't start despite having a new battery. We get pushed by some parking attendants and pay them generously by a thick cloud of dust and smoke. I drop my friend home and hit Ngong road whistling without a care in the world, thinking, hell yeah!! I'm a baller!! Just before the City Mortuary roundabout and suddenly the engine stops.. Holy Molly!! Sema sobering up at the thought of ghosts and imaginary lurking shadows. A company bus' driver and conductor try to assist by pushing me, Betty still wont start. To cut the story short, the hitherto inebriated "rich man" made the remaining trip home in a matatu after being towed 300m by an opportunist taxi driver to a petrol station at an exorbitant charge of 800bob. Shoulda heard him say: "Wallahi brother, una bahati sana nimekuja, hii pahali ni mbaya sana. Imejaa ghosts na wezi wale wabaya, wale unasikiangaga". Next morning betty cranked up at the first attempt.. Gari zina madharau aki. wah!
In summary: I have sucked on the gas pipe at the Nyayo stadium roundabout in Sunday afternoon traffic very conscious of the vulture-like jalopy breakdowns parked there calculating another minute to pounce on me. I got home with lungs full of petrol fumes that I coulda lit a match stick to my mouth and spitted real fire; two packets of tuzo milk later and I could afford a smile and a sigh of relieve. I have driven two kilometers on Mombasa road with a maize cob (ya mahindi choma) pivoting my accelerator lever thanks to a snapped accelerator cable - zangu zilikua kubadilisha gear tu na breaks, lol. I have driven from Komarocks in a badly pot-holed Kangundo road at 3am on a sunday morning trusting my DIY skills to get me out of any impending mess. In a nutshell, my beloved Betty always got and continues to get me home. My only major regret is that back in the day I wasn't interested in how the car functions and how some simple things can be fixed. Hence, I have experienced my fair share of quacks posing as qualified mechanics ..kugongwa nayo!!
I have since joined the VW Anonymous Club of Kenya and am very privileged to interact with fellow Volkswagen enthusiasts who have greatly helped me improve my car and polished my DIY skills. Quacks are history too thanks to one George Lawrence Brown who is the most exceptional VW guru I have met so far. August this year saw us cruise to Mombasa and back for a long weekend, a convoy of seven beetles without a single incident. Betty made it too, purring like a cat, powered by a 1600cc motor, a high ratio gearbox and driven by yours truly. Well, has she attained self actualization? Time to move on to another challenge or probably get her a brother/sister? ..watch this space for updates. It's hard to sell it though - which reminds me. I once uploaded an advert on olx and thanks to her irresistible looks (ukweli.. enough people hoot at me on the road, especially jungus, just to give me a thumbs up) she attracted lotsa prospective buyers. One mzee from Nyeri stands out though: He travelled all the way from Nyeri and judging by the angle that his jacket was skewed to one side, he had hard cash and was ready to transact. Having driven Betty around all that week, I was shocked when at the sight of a "loaded" mzee, she refused to start completely. Tulisukuma tukachoka.. sigh!! So yes, she ain't for sale and if you insist on knowing her value, there you are: Her mechanical value is approx 200k and the sentimental value is well over 2m...
Below are some "evidence" photos thanks to one real VW addict and professional photographer: Stephen Warui. Enjoy!!
After the transaction, tyres were fitted and quick first aid done. Elated, the seller offered to fuel the car himself (nikidhani aliweka soo mbili tu) and we waited for dark determined to evade hungry cops with a high affinity for insurance-free old cars. After dusk we hit the road. You should have seen my teary self; a mix of emotions: happy I have finally acquired my dream classic car and apprehensive that the posho mill sounding engine (it was too loud) powering the bug on "rickets wheels" would make it to my home. Well, we got home without incidences to the chagrin of my neighbours' who conspicuously peeped outside their windows perplexed at the rookie pilot who must have mistaken their parking space for Wilson airport and proceeded to land his chopper subsequently disturbing their peace. Betty was home!!
My bitter-sweet relationship with Betty started. Unlike chaps who buy new cars and value depreciation cum mechanical deterioration starts immediately, I gradually started my slow restoration. I must admit, Betty's restoration was informed more by mechanical functionality than aesthetics. For instance, the only reason that could lead me to replace a tyre was because the old one was so smooth that a mkamba would promptly bypass it in his akala production factory (pun intended). I did a complete engine overhaul of my 1200cc motor, worked on brakes, fitted a juakali glove compartment, fixed the roof and side panels, fitted a mediocre music system.. etc. All this time, I was driving the car, mostly on weekends. You'd be sure to see me on a Saturday afternoon whistling as I maneuvered through traffic thinking to myself, if the government ever demands all citizens who own cars to queue up for some Christmas goodies I as well would have made it, in fact I should have been the first on that queue.. I own a car. Damn!!
I've got some vivid hair-raising and humorous beetle memories some of which I'm gonna share right here and shelf the rest for another day. Ahem! It's end-month, on a fine Saturday evening as I watch soccer at some joint in Dagorreti corner. Earlier on I had fitted a new Chloride Exide battery hence solving all my ignition problems, or so I thought. I am on a balcony sipping my favourite lager, watching Arsenal whoop some team and throwing an occasional glance at my antique German automobile across the parking. It's 4am, enough lagers and dance moves later, we are ready to hit the road. Betty won't start despite having a new battery. We get pushed by some parking attendants and pay them generously by a thick cloud of dust and smoke. I drop my friend home and hit Ngong road whistling without a care in the world, thinking, hell yeah!! I'm a baller!! Just before the City Mortuary roundabout and suddenly the engine stops.. Holy Molly!! Sema sobering up at the thought of ghosts and imaginary lurking shadows. A company bus' driver and conductor try to assist by pushing me, Betty still wont start. To cut the story short, the hitherto inebriated "rich man" made the remaining trip home in a matatu after being towed 300m by an opportunist taxi driver to a petrol station at an exorbitant charge of 800bob. Shoulda heard him say: "Wallahi brother, una bahati sana nimekuja, hii pahali ni mbaya sana. Imejaa ghosts na wezi wale wabaya, wale unasikiangaga". Next morning betty cranked up at the first attempt.. Gari zina madharau aki. wah!
In summary: I have sucked on the gas pipe at the Nyayo stadium roundabout in Sunday afternoon traffic very conscious of the vulture-like jalopy breakdowns parked there calculating another minute to pounce on me. I got home with lungs full of petrol fumes that I coulda lit a match stick to my mouth and spitted real fire; two packets of tuzo milk later and I could afford a smile and a sigh of relieve. I have driven two kilometers on Mombasa road with a maize cob (ya mahindi choma) pivoting my accelerator lever thanks to a snapped accelerator cable - zangu zilikua kubadilisha gear tu na breaks, lol. I have driven from Komarocks in a badly pot-holed Kangundo road at 3am on a sunday morning trusting my DIY skills to get me out of any impending mess. In a nutshell, my beloved Betty always got and continues to get me home. My only major regret is that back in the day I wasn't interested in how the car functions and how some simple things can be fixed. Hence, I have experienced my fair share of quacks posing as qualified mechanics ..kugongwa nayo!!
I have since joined the VW Anonymous Club of Kenya and am very privileged to interact with fellow Volkswagen enthusiasts who have greatly helped me improve my car and polished my DIY skills. Quacks are history too thanks to one George Lawrence Brown who is the most exceptional VW guru I have met so far. August this year saw us cruise to Mombasa and back for a long weekend, a convoy of seven beetles without a single incident. Betty made it too, purring like a cat, powered by a 1600cc motor, a high ratio gearbox and driven by yours truly. Well, has she attained self actualization? Time to move on to another challenge or probably get her a brother/sister? ..watch this space for updates. It's hard to sell it though - which reminds me. I once uploaded an advert on olx and thanks to her irresistible looks (ukweli.. enough people hoot at me on the road, especially jungus, just to give me a thumbs up) she attracted lotsa prospective buyers. One mzee from Nyeri stands out though: He travelled all the way from Nyeri and judging by the angle that his jacket was skewed to one side, he had hard cash and was ready to transact. Having driven Betty around all that week, I was shocked when at the sight of a "loaded" mzee, she refused to start completely. Tulisukuma tukachoka.. sigh!! So yes, she ain't for sale and if you insist on knowing her value, there you are: Her mechanical value is approx 200k and the sentimental value is well over 2m...
Below are some "evidence" photos thanks to one real VW addict and professional photographer: Stephen Warui. Enjoy!!
 |
| At Moi Avenue - Mombasa |
 |
| Cruising down to coast.. kama unashuku, ushawahi ona Baobab nairobi? |
 |
Friday 25 October 2013
Kitambi Mitigation *Sigh*
Kitambi is the Sheng word for a pot belly. It must be one of the most dreaded features in our masculine world. In my book, unless for paged mamas, a protruding gut, is an eye sore. Not all are of the same opinion though; back in the village it's a clear-cut sign of affluence. That probably explains why vernacular comedians, the likes of Machang'i and company accentuate their vitambi by stuffing shirts and jackets to characterize udosi. This theory could be true though, how else do you explain the sudden protrusion of the gut when folks land their first jobos? Why is the paunch absent during our schooling days only to show up suddenly when we land our first pay slip? I ain't superstitious but the African in me needs answers.. could it be a curse?
One Mr Kibanya, my biology teacher - whom we all revered and thought he had no business lecturing a secondary school but should have easily made a good surgeon, had a simple explanation for kitambi, and I quote him verbatim: "Look here boys, a pot belly is caused by excessive fat getting stored on the intestines and general gut area, especially in men. In women, excessive fat is channeled directly to their nether regions.." My favourite part was: "Boys, remember, the key physical difference between inhabitants of the tropics (read Africans) compared to other regions like Europe is clearly evident. Excessive fat in the tropics is conveniently positioned in the posterior regions whereas in Europe and regions that experience winter it's positioned as insulating layer beneath the skin." I almost bought his theory until later on in life I interacted more with Indians. Hata wahindi wamezaliwa Kenya hawana haga.. Tehehee!! (pun intended).
Unlike a couple of my former schoolmates who "landed into cash" immediately after college, my kitambi has taken it's sweet time to show up/down. Unfortunately, it's now here with me - and I'm yet to land some good cash. Beloved friends, a kitambi is known to appear unceremoniously; no grand unveiling nor cutting of ribbons to officially launch it. All it takes is munching fries and chicken here, a chocolate bar there, beer and nyamchom here, supu na mutura there, name them.. err-mm and I dare say gluttony.. Kujibonda excess!! Sio siri!! I'm yet to fully understand and reconcile with my kitambi's origin as I rarely indulge in the aforementioned activities. My only comfort is that my paunch is relatively smaller in comparison to some homo sapiens I encounter daily and more so, ladies are catching up very quickly. Whatever happened to Mr Kibanya's theory?
As learned as I am, notice I have blatantly ignored scientific explanations of kitambi resulting from Sugary and starch-rich foods. Bollocks!! kwani our forefathers never ingested such. Genetics blah blah.. Wait a minute, you ain't fooling me; No one ever got a kitambi as a result of genetics. Nimekataa.. huwezi niskiza mimi!! My Kitambi mitigation progress is as follows: I have finally acquired jogging shoes and I plan to buy a pair of 'jogging shorts' probably in December or January 2014 so I can start jogging around my hood. I'm "digital" too; I have been sampling a few youtube videos that promise to get me a six pack within no time thanks to some planks that I have found to be more theoretical than practical. I hear washing down junk food with a diet coke has worked for some people, gonna give it a shot too. In the meantime, I'll stick to my routine 5 minutes aerobics cum zumba sessions plus the habitual 15 push ups that have only succeeded to "kulainisha mabiceps" Masgwembe-style and the remaining 10% to kitambi mitigation. Please don't sell me those one-week detox soups and fruits.. Sitaki mimi!!
Sadly folks, kitambi aquisition is always downhill, mitgation and the ultimate goal of shedding it off remain an up hill task and a mirage to many of us. You just can't win... Arrrrggghhh!!!
One Mr Kibanya, my biology teacher - whom we all revered and thought he had no business lecturing a secondary school but should have easily made a good surgeon, had a simple explanation for kitambi, and I quote him verbatim: "Look here boys, a pot belly is caused by excessive fat getting stored on the intestines and general gut area, especially in men. In women, excessive fat is channeled directly to their nether regions.." My favourite part was: "Boys, remember, the key physical difference between inhabitants of the tropics (read Africans) compared to other regions like Europe is clearly evident. Excessive fat in the tropics is conveniently positioned in the posterior regions whereas in Europe and regions that experience winter it's positioned as insulating layer beneath the skin." I almost bought his theory until later on in life I interacted more with Indians. Hata wahindi wamezaliwa Kenya hawana haga.. Tehehee!! (pun intended).
Unlike a couple of my former schoolmates who "landed into cash" immediately after college, my kitambi has taken it's sweet time to show up/down. Unfortunately, it's now here with me - and I'm yet to land some good cash. Beloved friends, a kitambi is known to appear unceremoniously; no grand unveiling nor cutting of ribbons to officially launch it. All it takes is munching fries and chicken here, a chocolate bar there, beer and nyamchom here, supu na mutura there, name them.. err-mm and I dare say gluttony.. Kujibonda excess!! Sio siri!! I'm yet to fully understand and reconcile with my kitambi's origin as I rarely indulge in the aforementioned activities. My only comfort is that my paunch is relatively smaller in comparison to some homo sapiens I encounter daily and more so, ladies are catching up very quickly. Whatever happened to Mr Kibanya's theory?
As learned as I am, notice I have blatantly ignored scientific explanations of kitambi resulting from Sugary and starch-rich foods. Bollocks!! kwani our forefathers never ingested such. Genetics blah blah.. Wait a minute, you ain't fooling me; No one ever got a kitambi as a result of genetics. Nimekataa.. huwezi niskiza mimi!! My Kitambi mitigation progress is as follows: I have finally acquired jogging shoes and I plan to buy a pair of 'jogging shorts' probably in December or January 2014 so I can start jogging around my hood. I'm "digital" too; I have been sampling a few youtube videos that promise to get me a six pack within no time thanks to some planks that I have found to be more theoretical than practical. I hear washing down junk food with a diet coke has worked for some people, gonna give it a shot too. In the meantime, I'll stick to my routine 5 minutes aerobics cum zumba sessions plus the habitual 15 push ups that have only succeeded to "kulainisha mabiceps" Masgwembe-style and the remaining 10% to kitambi mitigation. Please don't sell me those one-week detox soups and fruits.. Sitaki mimi!!
Sadly folks, kitambi aquisition is always downhill, mitgation and the ultimate goal of shedding it off remain an up hill task and a mirage to many of us. You just can't win... Arrrrggghhh!!!
Thursday 24 October 2013
In My Opinion
I am as opinionated as they come, so much that one Robert Alai must be envious. Everyone has one. How to distinguish opinions, ideas and decisions is a topic for another day - wheat and chaff kind of an analysis. An opinion is the best excuse for mediocre, outright silly but sometime brainy and well-thought-out statements. In case you've been wondering why the acronym IMO is too rampant on social media and micro blogging platforms such as twitter, now you know; it's the the best haven for majority of us. Don't get so offended if out of the blues I blurt out or tweet: "IMO you're retarded". Well it's just my opinion.. comprende?
I have an array of opinions and what a perfect venue to spew them as here, yes, right here in my blog. Back in primary school, my music teacher kicked off my maiden music class by defining music. Music is organized noise; he said. In similar context, I bet organized opinions and ideas defines a speech. I'll save y'all from a speech by getting out my opinions in no particular order. Ahem.. IMO, Kenyans are too political it hurts; "ethnopolitical" is the word. It's a malignant cancer that spares no one from professors to soldiers (read watchmen). The sheer amount of time wasted politicking has a significant percentage on our GDP's pie chart; a negative one. I consider myself apolitical but I must admit, I'm guilty too.
IMO, social media and "socialites" will kill us. Yes, we'll spend hours in a day checking out what celeb did what, what he/she had for breakfast, what a certain "socialite" wore or didn't wear to some event, who posted randy photos and where... We thrive on sensationalism. Ask the authors of Daily Post; they have perfected sensationalism and plagiarism to a degree that must reflect in what they drive and in their lifestyle - Siwajui btw, but folks must be laughing their way to the bank thanks to the web traffic they generate per day. I have decided to snob sensationalism altogether. You don't believe it? I dare you to make one Vera Sidika catwalk in my balcony or to get the most hyped celeb in Kenya to perform in the same venue (my balcony) and see whether I'll even think of drawing my curtain to witness... I WONT!! Hehe!
IMO, soap operas and series are a waste of time, especially the former. Why on earth does one agree to be programmed by a guy seated at Citizen TV or KTN studios for a whooping six months? A new soap opera is over-hyped weeks before the present one ends consequently earning a one hour slot on our prime time TV for the next couple of months.. Jeso!! As for the series, suffice it to say that the best venue for watching them without a care in the world is lying on a hammock in between two palms trees overlooking the beach in my retirement home.. ermm via ipad 10 (ama by then itakuwa 11.. haidhuru). I know by now some people are like: "dude, what do you do for fun?". Gonna answer that in my next blog post.
IMO and "observation", every piece of land being sold in Nairobi is supposedly next to some bypass, airstrip, university etc..sadly!! IMO, all kanjo askaris should be in jail. IMO, all "modern" churches should be audited. IMO, harambee starts should only exists in our history books. IMO, all KDF westgate lootenants should be fired. IMO, the only benefit of fads and fashions is improved govt revenue. IMO, white weddings are overrated. IMO, we should adopt a different system of meritocracy albeit for a week. For instance: looks, height, weight, walking style, hair... ai, masomo ni ngumu sana (pun intended). IMO,...........
...off to kulainisha ma biceps!!
I have an array of opinions and what a perfect venue to spew them as here, yes, right here in my blog. Back in primary school, my music teacher kicked off my maiden music class by defining music. Music is organized noise; he said. In similar context, I bet organized opinions and ideas defines a speech. I'll save y'all from a speech by getting out my opinions in no particular order. Ahem.. IMO, Kenyans are too political it hurts; "ethnopolitical" is the word. It's a malignant cancer that spares no one from professors to soldiers (read watchmen). The sheer amount of time wasted politicking has a significant percentage on our GDP's pie chart; a negative one. I consider myself apolitical but I must admit, I'm guilty too.
IMO, social media and "socialites" will kill us. Yes, we'll spend hours in a day checking out what celeb did what, what he/she had for breakfast, what a certain "socialite" wore or didn't wear to some event, who posted randy photos and where... We thrive on sensationalism. Ask the authors of Daily Post; they have perfected sensationalism and plagiarism to a degree that must reflect in what they drive and in their lifestyle - Siwajui btw, but folks must be laughing their way to the bank thanks to the web traffic they generate per day. I have decided to snob sensationalism altogether. You don't believe it? I dare you to make one Vera Sidika catwalk in my balcony or to get the most hyped celeb in Kenya to perform in the same venue (my balcony) and see whether I'll even think of drawing my curtain to witness... I WONT!! Hehe!
IMO, soap operas and series are a waste of time, especially the former. Why on earth does one agree to be programmed by a guy seated at Citizen TV or KTN studios for a whooping six months? A new soap opera is over-hyped weeks before the present one ends consequently earning a one hour slot on our prime time TV for the next couple of months.. Jeso!! As for the series, suffice it to say that the best venue for watching them without a care in the world is lying on a hammock in between two palms trees overlooking the beach in my retirement home.. ermm via ipad 10 (ama by then itakuwa 11.. haidhuru). I know by now some people are like: "dude, what do you do for fun?". Gonna answer that in my next blog post.
IMO and "observation", every piece of land being sold in Nairobi is supposedly next to some bypass, airstrip, university etc..sadly!! IMO, all kanjo askaris should be in jail. IMO, all "modern" churches should be audited. IMO, harambee starts should only exists in our history books. IMO, all KDF westgate lootenants should be fired. IMO, the only benefit of fads and fashions is improved govt revenue. IMO, white weddings are overrated. IMO, we should adopt a different system of meritocracy albeit for a week. For instance: looks, height, weight, walking style, hair... ai, masomo ni ngumu sana (pun intended). IMO,...........
...off to kulainisha ma biceps!!
Tuesday 22 October 2013
"Masufferer" Culture
Enough folk have probably heard of "masufferer" the other day thanks to Mbusi and Bonoko of Ghetto radio. Unfortunately/fortunately, I was exposed to the terminology in my teenage years. Reggae music worsened it - disclaimer: I love reggae, but y'all know that reggae music tackles "a whole heap" of social issues but poverty and suffering stands out. From Ska, Rock steady, Reggae, riddims (not necessarily in that order), fifty percent of the message is "sufferation". However, the artists are genuinely addressing social issues in Jamaica, Africa and third world in general; which is okay.
I have no beef with Stephen marley and his siblings when just like their late dad, they cover their faces and grimace as if pepper got into their eyes during their concerts to depict suffering, No.. None at all, especially because they entertain and mint money while at it. It's the mitaani version of "masufferer" that I have beef with. In my opinion, it's a deliberate attempt by some "ghetto" youths at glorifying their present economical challenges which kills ambition and subsequently worsens the status quo. It's a worrying trend.
"Massufferer" quotes include the following: "Tunaomba serikali...", "buda wewe ni sos, niachie za macho", "Mzae nakwaambia graph ya maisha ishachorwa..", "Mababi wanabore, ni either watoboke au tuwapige ngeta", "masomo sio suruali" etc. The saddest clique of masufferer is the brethren with bloodshot eyes whose favourite past time is chewing miraa and listening to the "message" in reggae music as they share sodas, chewing gums and njugu karanga. They are known to dance with fists in the air occassionally exclaiming "Jah rastafari" oblivious of it's meaning. Shindwe kabisaaa!!
Growing up in the slopes of mount Kenya, I have encountered my fair share of rural massufferer. In their book, anyone from the city (whether working or in college) is rich and should buy them a shot/bottle/keg of their favourite drink. You'll hear some say: "Walala!! Aki Henry ungekuwa huku last week, nilikua na pesa mbaiyaa, mimi ndo nilikua na-rule kwa bar. But mi hushow wathii, wewe ni msee wa power sana. Wewe ni kama bro". Chap heaps praises on you and finally gets to his main objective: "brathe, nibuyie keg mbili tu, sitaki tatu.. Ngota ju ya hiyo maneno".
Is the government listening? Arrest these bloody masufferers ...SMDH!!
LIFE!! ..an unsuccessful attempt at demystifying it
What is Life? Simple yet complex. Unless the subject is whether or not corals have life in them, I will easily agree with you on all the other aspects and manifestations of life that exist in the realms; terrestrial and extraterrestrial. I am an example of life, I am living it.. simple! There's a universal acceptance on the hierarchy of life that starts with human life. It is universal in the sense that it does not respect religious, scientific and any other personal or societal inclinations. It is therefore safe to say that the remaining forms of life exist for the exploitation of man in pursuit of his goals. Homo sapiens beware: this among others might be the first charges we'll answer to at the convergence of the wide and narrow paths (read Judgement day - if it exists).
While life is simple to explain and validate empirically, it's origin is the most controversial topic to date. Theories and myths abound. From divergent religious views, complex and near-comical evolution theories, logical, metaphysical etc. Y'all will cut me some slack for not delving into all of them - Google and Wikipedia can beat me hands down. I must mention this in passing though, having schooled in a mission school full of priests AKA Masters of theology (they spend enough years in college that must make student doctors envious). To my relief, I came to learn that the Adam and Eve story is not entirely true. It was an attempt by the early church to explain the existence of man - I agree, I find it best suited for a timid Sunday school audience. I am sorry.
To Evolution and equally skewed theories and myths, my response is simple... Bollocks!! I must admit though, while I don't believe in reincarnation, I carefully watch my steps to avoid maiming or "promoting to glory" insects that are easily trampled on. I am not scientifically-wired to want to explain stuff in black and white, so as far as life's origin is concerned, I digress. To majority of humans, life is fate, life is circumstantial, life is a blessing, life is what you make it, life is interesting, life is boring, life is get born-grow up-school-work-marry-get babies-die, life is sleep-wake up-sleep.... what's yours?
Gotta end my "novel" by admitting that I am slowly buying Rose Muhando's idea of Tenda wema Nenda Zako - a song in one of her latest album releases. Not a bad outlook of summing up life, huh? . However, my favourite view of life is informed by Midnite Band's Unpolished album release of 1997; song number two rhythmically says: LOVE THE LIFE YOU LIVE, LEAD THE LIFE YOU LOVE!! :) :)
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