Where it all began?

I’ve refrained from posting for a while now, for most part because I’m a lazy deuce but seeing as the spark of impulsion flickers yet again… Having procured most of my post-election news from the blogosphere, it occurred to me that I should reciprocate especially for the sake of those who think this is ’spur of the moment anarchy’.

I recently received an e-mail from a friend back home in which she recounted a history of Kenyan politics as told by her pastor:

Apparently, it is a pre-colonial feud.

Raila’s (leader of opposition) father Oginga formed an alliance with Tom Mboya (one of our freedom fighters) (note both are Luos). The alliance was known as KANU and it was made in 1960 to help negotiate terms for independence. The Kikuyus suffered alot during colonial times due to living in an area with rich fertile land so the British confiscated alot of their land for their homes and farms so the Kikuyus were forced to retreat to the forests aand hence started the MAUMAU movement to fight for independence.

Oginga and Tom Mboyas efforts paid off and the colonial government made an agreement to hand the power over to him but there were still issues with the Kikuyu so Oginga agreed to step down for Kenyatta our first president (and a Kikuyu) and gave him that power and Oginga became the Vice President in 1963. The problem started when they could not agree with the form of government; Oginga wanted Socialism, Kenyatta wanted Capitalism eventually they disagreed completely. Oginga was fired and placed under house arrest and Tom Mboya was assasinated (resulting in subsequent finger-pointing) hence the feud between Luos and Kikuyus. Recent events sparked it again when 5 yearsago Raila (Oginga’s son) stepped down for Kibaki (A kikuyu and our 3rd President) and the agreement they had made before winning elections (to make Raila Prime minister after changing the constitution) was dishonoured and recently the presidential election sent every one exploding with emotions.

As for the people of Rift Valley (Nakuru Eldoret etc) they are bitter because the colonial masters took away their fertile land and since they were pastoralists and not farmers they gave the Kikuyus the land to farm on thier behalf and sent the people of Rift Valley to dry lands when the colonialists went back home after independence they gave the title dees to the Kikuyus cause they are the ones who tilled the land but the people of Rift Valley were still bitter about it but nothing was ever donee till now when yoy hear of peoples homes being burnt down and people being killed it is the Kikuyu who are being persecuted most in those areas.

There is just alot of unsetteled anxiety.

I’m not sure about the accuracy of this history, but it does bring alot into light…but is it where it all began? Before Oginga, Dedan Kimathi and all the names you learned in GHC weren’t we getting along?(relatively) Yeh, some of us came from Congo , Sudan or wherever but at the end of the day, what nationality do you claim?

This bring to mind a question I heard an international student ask an American:

Which is worth more, an African life or an American one?

His response was, hesitant(probably due to my prescence) but he got to the point that the value of life in ‘3rd world countries’ is incomparable to the same in America. I could understand his perspective as he was trying to compare the statistics of epidemic against the experience of losing a loved on to cancer.

In the same way, (I believe) we Kenyans are labelling each other with a ‘hate’ carried over a generation, which has evolved into something sinister by attaching emotion to aspects of this ‘hate’ that we relate with. Children growing up are influenced to ‘hate’ their best friend because of their background or tribal affiliation. How does this differ from racism? Sexism? Classism? Religious discrimination?

I refuse the land I love to be torn apart because of overinflated-egos and misguided passion! *Fist clenched, deep breaths, fist unclenched* We have to deal with this issue on a personal level if change is going to occur.

In the words of black_knight:

“I am a Kenyan first…”

Throw your hands inda the air…PP

It’s thanksgiving and the only thing i’m thinking about is what the hell is holiday about? I heard something about Yankees and Native Americans but still, is how? I’ve run it down to a scheduled time-out from jobo or whatever stress you dealin with…only, I’m not really stressed. So now nitado?

Money or the box? I chose the box. You have won a voyage with Captain Morgan!…and thus is my scheduled time-out from…whatever it is I’m supposed to be stressed out by. Don’t get me wrong, drama niko, but really, nothing a little pint and pleasure (PP)can’t fix. I just wonder why people escalate this vibe. A jama has a job above minimum wage, good hours(jobo and chuo), a scholarship and still complains about the chuo ripping him off…PP mzee!

Wow I miss TV from kitambo, OMO pick a box, Je, huu ni ungwana…Watchin the daily show n all this rubbish isn’t bambaing me, though I really want to watch this Cobra Squad vibe. If only Kenyan TV was online…

Mad props to the TED winners btw, though I wonder just how much they will really achieve.

On an unrelated note, Does anyone know how one can watch the 7s series from the states? Supersport is bila here.

I’m caught between writing what you want to read and whatever perambulates across my subconscious…kambla nizinduke, hii ni maendeleo.

Wawero - Wawesh

Homesick Remix - Wawesh & KG

Sisikii

I’m doing a paper on Swahili culture at the moment; yeh I know it has nothing to do with my major, but I sounded interesting. I got to thinking about how Bantu languages have evolved over the years; what kyuk must have sounded like 100 years ago…I then thought about my relationship(or lack of) with my great-grandmother. It’s sad that we can’t communicate due to the fact that I don’t speak Kimbeere, and she doesn’t speak Swa. The look of disappointment I get every time she give me her words of wisdom, go hand in hand with the feeling of guilt that I, a ‘whole Mumbeere’ cannot speak my own language. As I shun away from this encounter, i come across this:

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/69

To see this happen in my own shags cuts me deep. So now, what is there to do?

Malaika - Harry Belafonte & Miriam Makeba

Mashairi - Ukoo Flani Mau Mau

Negative influence

Since getting a clean bill of health from my friendly neighbourhood VCT clinic, I set out to live responsibly; cutting down drinking, smoking and…fornication.

Smoking has never been a problem. One down, then things get thick. I realised I couldn’t just go cold turkey, I mean really… So after much deliberation, and several ‘last drinks’, I let go of the bottle and signed up for Sir John’s Sojourn(trademark Milonare)

5 months into the B-Train (trademark Milonare), bottle in hand, and I’m losing sight of my goal. This had something to do with my body being the temple of God and pangs of regret as I reintroduced myself to the leftovers from last night’s takeaway. Ironically, these are always followed by comforting thoughts of the things I didn’t do…or at least I think i didn’t.

Enter the new, hypercritical me, featuring: Anti-coyote ugly syndrome, non-alcoholic, non-herbalist, banjukafied, 4.0 GPA guaranteed or your money back*

I really should have gotten the warranty. But hey, there’s always the keinyeji version, works well enough, spare parts cheap and available, and does more or less the same thing…more or less. Keinyeji has always seemed to work for me (apart from river road…if I ever get my hands on that *%$#@^>!…), modest and efficient. If only Toi had frequent customer cards…

I really don’t get how monks pull this off. Celibacy is probably the hardest thing since bottling darkness (brings back mono days?), but at least i’m getting somewhere. 155 days…about. Yet again I wonder, WHY? The answer is quite simple really. Just give me some time to figure it out, n I’ll get back to you.

Who is to Blame - Eric Wainaina

Paper Planes - M.I.A

On & On

What a weekend…

I’m sober for one, perfectly healthy, not at a party/club, yet I can afford to rave.

It’s quite strange; I decided to go cold turkey on pint. Given the fact that I’m not an alcoholic, and the unavailability of good alcohol to a missing mono, this isn’t such a hard thing to do.

Why did I do it then?

Picture yourself relaxing on some beach/pub/whatever does it for you, holding a nice, cold tusker.

Now take that, and switch it with a warm one. Not kawa warm, coasto warm. Between that and soberity…

I had had a cold for the last 3 weeks…3 weeks! Now I’m not a doctor, but really? Kwani I’m njeve-intolerant ama?

Then these houseparties…they’re not bad. However, advice to all party throwers: Reconsider Beerpong. It’s great as a spontaneous pass time, but when every party has a pong table, and the same jamaas (I should start a prayer group) happen to win every time…Its like having a body-shot every time you rave…

And yeh, I’m not selling blood yet.

What a day…

I think I need a coffee, Dorman’s, Café Mocha…Beautiful. Fu*cough* Starbucks. What do I have to do to get a decent Mocha? I’ve never understood how, the Mocha, an American creation, is butchered at every coffee shop I’ve been to here. Thanks God the have ‘free’ WIFI…raping my tastebuds while I watch rudge. Drinking age is 21 so “no cold tusker for you kijana” replays in my head as I prepare my keinyeji Russian coffee. Well, at least the All Blacks are kicking ass! Some other vibes have also jazzed my life: Japan’s 90-metre try, Robinson’s sprain, Lima’s Tackle, the fala in the SA team who dropped the ball less than a metre from the try line…now for Ausi v England!

MAD fun!

On & On – Erykah Badu

Cup of Water

    As I look at my cup, I’m not wondering if it’s half empty or half full, but “that’s a really nice cup”. Maybe I’ve just lost it,  asking myself questions I can’t answer, talking about losing ‘me’…but inevitably, does it matter?

I often think “Back home, *nostalgic babble*” only to realise I’m not home, this is not a dream, life goes on. How did I live my life back home, and why am I not doing that now? Culture shock? Laziness? Sexual frustration? (lol) Fear…back to square one. So what does one do to overcome fear? Face it head-on seems like the obvious choice, but why haven’t I done that yet? Discrimination probably, on my part.

Change, why are people so opposed to it? Why am I? Yet I claim to be liberal…

“Talk about beautiful things a little bit…”

Resounding in my mind, words of Bahamadia, invoking wisdom as is:

• Play the fool only to realise you are the fool…

•  People are most likely to resist change when they enjoy their current state. Obvious.

•     Long term enjoyment of states is joy. Not so obvious

•     Joy isn’t common. Disturbing

•     Lack of joy leads to the pursuit of happiness.

•     Happiness is only attainable in the short term.

•     If anything, pursue joy. As you can always forgive the one you love, what centers you regardless of your situation?

That is what brings you joy.

•     Anything that changes your perception has either given you joy, or taken it away.

•     There is no variation of joy. It is what it is.

If the glass is half full or half empty empty is irrelevant, its effect on  you is what counts.

Will I lose…me?

    Independence by definition is separation from others. Liberalism is independence from conformity. So then, can one who is liberal have like-minded friends? Therefore, is liberalism attainable?

This ultimately brings up the question; who am I? I guess that’s what i’m in uni for…stereotypical eh? But then again, is it conformist to go to school? Watch TV? Wear clothes? What about speaking Swa?

I ask myself, why is it I feel inclined to vibe in Swa with Kenyans in uni, whereas I barely spoke Sheng back at home? Why is it I gravitate towards dark skinned people, barely noticing lighter skinned people I met just hours ago? Is this me being racist, or insecurity? conformity even?

Some time back I asked a friend why they put on an accent every time he talked to an American, to which he replied, “I’m tired of constantly being asked to repeat myself, and if I’m from Africa.” Instantly, I remember the tens of conversations I’d had in the last few hours, all of which centred around my pet lion who I advise in his kingly reign.

It was then I realised the purpose of conformity.

*I liked the way tHiNkEr’S rOoM (and everyone else) did this so…

Jill Scott - Long Walk

Regina Spektor - Fidelity

Erykah Badu - Didn’t Cha Know

Lavi Church

I’ve always taken my religion seriously…I know that comes as a surprise to some of you, but really, I do. Whenever things get thick, the first person I turn to is God. It probably has to do with my mum being a preacher, but I am convinced there is a God, Jesus died, and if I don’t follow his ways, I will burn in a very cold room with sound of a modem in loop. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who believes those things are cruel and unusual punishment) I differ from many in the sense that I don’t impose my faith on anyone; if you’ve heard about Christianity and have chosen not to follow it, I’ll never implicate you in ‘Miracle Crusade’. However, if you are interested…And before you label me a hypocrite:

1) Have I EVER spoken out against drinking under control

2) Pre-Marital sex is a sin…so is lying…let he who has not sinned cast the first stone

3) I am NOT a herbalist

4) Who are you to judge me?

I’ve always been compelled to go to church on Sunday morning. Regardless of the number of beers I had that morning or if I rolled in a car, I feel the need to attend a service…at MY church. I’m not convinced its because I’m Christian, it seems far deeper than that…because I only want to go to my church. But enyewe, that place has history; there was this one time I was playing hide and seek with my bro, during church(we were in Sunday school at the time), and he wandered into the main service. There were pews which you could crawl under (which we usually did), but with the hall filled with people, I couldn’t see him. Being the ‘Genius’ that I am, I went to the front of the hall, picked up a mic, and asked the congregation “Where is Mugane?”(LOL…your loathed name is public!). Till today, random churchgoers remind me of the stories, and pull the long lost relative vibe of “You don’t remember me? I used to carry when you were this small!”. Ok, I know I was a sharp little kid, but really…

Today, the topic was fasting. For all of you who are mteja right now, this is when you give up something you love doing, and spend that time working on your relationship with God. Well…I learned that today (Yeh I want a medal!). I thought I had been fasting for the last month(The root of all evil isn’t money…), but shock on me,  I was doing it wrong. Apparently, if you give up something, and you don’t use the time you freed up meditating on God, its not fasting…so what i’ve been doing for the last month was ‘aimless sacrifice’…life isn’t fair.

Moral of the story:

If there is something that you can’t live without, it controls you.

Can you live with that?

MAD FUN!

My my, time seems to creeping along quite…lethargically.  Even  so, I’ve had so much fun, quite strange given one of life’s laws is:

“When things are going great, time speeds up, but when everything goes to shit, time takes a stroll.”

So I wonder to myself, should I do something incredibly fun, yet equally stupid, so I can be suspended in euphoria? quite a gamble, given that if things do go pear-shaped, I’ll have to (probably) sit in some cell in inda, trying to figure out why I did what I did in the first place…

Instead, I’ve began to do productive things like fikain the gym (don’t judge me), cooking (no, it not the same guy you know) and other random somethings…like this. What jazzes me still is the fact that I’m having fun…cleaning dishes! (no, I don’t offer services) Which has brought me to the realisation, of something I already knew…

“Life is what you make it”

I know what you’re thinking, this is the say bull you hear in any self-help book, but wait and ask yourself, do you enjoy taking a crap? simple question, but why does it depend on certain circumstances? Why does Kalamari taste good to some and bad to others, without regarding the texture, even though it doesn’t HAVE a taste? It cos u don’t want to like it.  This is why I live by the mentality of ‘MAD FUN’ (*said in a voice too quick to follow* “The blogger takes no resposibility for actions or consequences caused by the afformentioned mentality. This includes trying to apply the ‘MAD FUN’ princple to funerals”)

Moral of the story : MAD FUN!

Bumming syndrome

Being a new edition in the ‘High School Leavers’ club, the first thing on my list, as with everyone else, was party…and so were the next 15, but still I bum. Why you ask? You could say budget deficiency, lack of sleep, alcohol poisoning or even the fear of chicken (lol…is there a scientific term?); at the end of the day/night, you’re still at square one. Thus the ‘Bumming syndrome’.

So then, how to counter this fiend? Do something…yeh, I know you expected something big, but hey, it wouldn’t be the first time (Rich Dad Poor Dad, The Monk who sold his ferrari, who moved my cheese, the secret…). Kaizen works for me, but it seemingly doesn’t work for my zack, who appears to believe I sleep all day…Doing something better than you did it the last time, or at least striving to prevents the syndrome…I think. So the moral of the story, beware the chicken that samas…(lol) but really,find something to do. Anything…constructive.

Moving on, it seems that alcohol tolerance seems to work like weight lifting. Ok, I knew that after not touching pint for 6 months your minimum threshold would be set lower(yanii, you get tipsy quickfast) , but ati your upper limit drops as well? Shock on me…

I used to think I was safe…I was shocked the other day, walking home (at around 10pm)when I noticed 3 cars with hazard lights on in the distance. As I neared I realised they were all security trucks, surrounded by karaus.  I turned the corner onto the road leading to my digs to find 3 more cars with their hazards on and like 15 more cops. Given my long disheveled hair, I hoped to God that none of these jamaas thought I was Mungiki, that was, until I saw the three dead bodies on the ground. 2 were on the road, on on the sidewalk, and all three had bullet wounds to the chest, and were bleeding all over(is f***in 3 days later and their blood is still on there!). I think i wasn’t so traumatised cos i’ve seen some else did on this hill, but still, this was so eerie. All the karaus seemed at ease, pedestrians looked in horror as they passed, and given that there was only space for one lane, motorists also coasted to get a veiw of the late ’suspects’. So much for security…strange how I feel nothing as I walk at night, even though I now KNOW that my hood isn’t safe…

I’m fikain uni in a month…I’m really going to miss Nai.