Stranger than Fiction

Stranger than fiction is the story (read it here) of 18 year old Belgian girl called Kimberly who went into a tattoo parlour supposedly for 3 tattoos on the side of her face and came out with 56. There are many elements of this story that lead one to wonder. The single most troubling one to me is how you can wake up in the morning, choose to get a tattoo and go to a guy who looks like this for it:








So the chick who wanted 3 small stars left the parlour looking like this:



The girl supposedly fell asleep while getting them done and the guy just went on and on like the energizer bunny. How do you sleep when getting a tattoo, and especially a tattoo on your face? The guy says he'll pay for half of them to be removed and is happy with the publicity he's recieving.

It's a strange world indeed!

Of slowness and related tardiness

I'm working on the single most boring engagement in my adult life. It's a 50 page document that's so dreary I've been reading it for a whole week, taking it home everyday and I've only gotten half way! How shall I survive?! Anyhoo, I find myself very distractable and thought why not tell a tale!

The other day on my way to work, there was a mat whose dere said they were going to the general vicinity in which I was headed. Being on a road where those mats don't ply, I wondered to myself for about 2 seconds before I jumped in, ready to enjoy the ride. Now this is where I think there must have been something wrong with me. Not at the jumping in part but at riding along jolily staring out the window as we moved from familliar settings to stranger and more deserted roadsides. When I snapped out of my reverie and decided to get off, I was standing a distance from the office in what we shall call 'the middle of nowhere' (makes you think of Eustace and that dog huh? But I digress).

After standing by the road for about 10 minutes I realised that 'tmon' doesn't have many mats and that the few that pass by are packed to the brim and caked with mud in a manner likely to suggest a long journey from beyond the city limits. I decided to call my cab guy only to have him tell me that he was about as far as he could possibly be from 'tmon' and the other one was mteja. Just as I was having a conversation with my God for a clue on what to do, seeing as the clock was a-ticking and I needed to get to work, a mat miraculously stopped infront of me and I managed to plough through the gunias of produce, find a shared seat and get to work - late but at least I made it.

The saddest part of this tale is that I wasn't nursing a hangover or anything ... just being particularly slow (which may explain my problem with the document). Have a faster day please! Shiko thanks for the heads up! :-)

Sweet success

I have spent the last 2 days passively and last 2 hours actively trying to open a bottle of wine. I have a corkscrew but of the type that must have been used in the years BC coz it leaves you to your own devices once you've done the screwing bit. I even went online on tips on what to do. It's one of those nights when a drink sounds so tempting. Let's just say that the solution involved a window and an odd angle!

And there's oh nothing quite like the taste of success ...!

Of Leopards and Tall Tales

I was going through the paper this morning when I came across the story of the leopard. Apparently, there's a leopard that has made Eastlands it's home. It goes about mauling dogs and sheep and leaves the carnage behind.

Some dude coming home at 1am some night apparently came across it in a fight with dogs and must have thought he should quit drinking for its negative effects on one's perception. He got home and called out his wife to verify and she confirmed that it was indeed a wild animal. I don't however know how much weight I want to put on her confirmation. I mean think about it. She was probably seething at her husband's tardiness until around 11pm when she decided to turn in. Then at 1am, she's woken up by her idiot husband probably thinking to herself "we talked about this ... he has a key ..." Then instead of the well rehearsed apology she has heard over and over again, listens to him tell her over the waves of intoxicating fumes he's emitting that he saw a leopard ... I'd be surprised if she didn't just give him a prized glare, turn over and go back to sleep!

But seriously, you may want to reconsider having a late night out in Buru this weekend ...

Of Walks and Poor Energy Planning

So in my new hood I walk a lot. Being a user of public transport, I find that walking some distance saves me the trouble of connecting with 2 mats and gets me to work faster. If I lived anywhere other than a developing 3rd world country, my walk would be considered cool and even helpful to the environment da-di-da. Well too bad coz I live in Kenya and always get quizzical looks from anyone I tell I walk some distance on my way to work (not to mention questioning looks from strangers as I go about my way) *sigh*

Anyhoo, on one of my walks I chanced upon a vehicle that had stalled on an incline and had caused a snarl up behind it. I figured from the look of the guy in the car, that, having sent someone running with a jerrycan, it must have been one of those days when the poor sap just didn't have enough money for fuel and was praying the the sock he had put in would do the job. Well it hadn't. I was feeling sorry for him when I realised it had GK number plates. Surely the government could afford fuel I thought to myself and I strained my head to see what department the vehicle belonged to. It was all I could do to restrain myself from keeling over in gails of laughter when I realized that the car belonged to the Ministry of Energy!!!

Have yourself an entertaining day!

Here today, gone tommorrow

I've very recently been forced to face the trancient nature of life. A couple of days ago, an aquaintance was walking in town going about her business when her phone rang. She chatted with her pal and told her she was planning to do a little shopping before going home. The time was 3pm. It was the day Nakumatt burnt down. No one has heard from her since.

Yesterday some pals dropped me home after a birthday dinner only to be rammed into by a speeding Touareg less than 100 meters from my gate at an intesection. They were in a strong car but it spun and landed on its side stopped from rolling continously on by an unlikely obstruction. The rack will probably be written off. They got away with a few scratches thanks to their belts though the one who hadn't belted up required medical attenton. Questions abound. What if ... what if ...?

This life is not your own.

30

That year has come and gone again. I make the bold move of declaring age and present a poem:


I sit on the edge of the great three – oh
And ask myself how much further to go
‘This can’t be mid-life’ I wonder aloud
‘Got so much more to do to make myself proud’

Can’t say I regret the time that’s gone by
Not sure I’d change much even if allowed to try
For living is in the day as each it passes
And there are many a tomorrow for one and more chances

And yet I feel so young, like it had just begun
A little smiling kid, face turned to the sun
So I guess what’s important is the age you are inside
‘Least that’s what I’ll tell myself as I watch the years glide

Phew ...

Now that looks better don't it! I was finding the page a twinge dark. I really like the way the new blogger has simplified things for we the not-so-tech-savvy. Thanks B. Granted I'm light years behind many of you, but at least I can do something here & there.

If you lke the pic up there, do visit the landscapes link to the side. There are really great pics there.

Cherio.

New Year New Cheer

I've only just realised that I haven't blogged this whole year! No good.

And what a year it's been so far, what with America's bold Obama move. I must say that the results of the american elections have shown, where nothing else probably could, that the american electorate have come of age. America is indeed a country to emulate, a country that has, in a relatively short span, turned almost colour blind. That's something for us in Africa to think about as we go about voting in tribal 'chiefs'.

Congratulations Mr. Obama and may you stand true to the ideals that lead you to the oval office.

Of Idiots and Cops

So jana I left home late (as has become my norm recently) and was caught up in the jam. I was in a mat and was glad when the overlapping started (don't you just hate that when travelling by private means?!) But the thing with the mat guys is that they're sharp and they send someone to be their look out for cops.

So there was this doola who decided that he's had it with being overtaken and he joined the overlapping bandwagon. He didn't notice the other cars trying to pull into the lanes and he kept zooming past, pleased with himself. As fate would have it, he met with cops at the end of the road and they stopped him and asked him to get out of the car. Now the reason he's a doola is he decided the cops are thoroughly unfair and are picking on him since they didn't stop the other cars, and he told them as much in flowery language. A dude this is Kenya. He refused to get out of his car but forgot he had left the passenger side open. They were 2 cops and one got in through the passenger side and fished him out. The poor guy was worked on bright and early in the morning before being whisked off. I wonder what he was charged with? Resisting arrest? Obstruction? Possession of an illicit substance? Being a member of an out-lawed sect?!

Many ways not to skin a mbuzi!

Of my many untold stories, the one that keeps me chuckling every once in a while as I go on my way is the story of the goat. Until recently I lived in South B which is really your average Nairobi middle class area that has something for everyone. In such places, it is not surprising to see a goat being grazed within the estate when the festivities of Christmas and the New Year draw close.

It was therefore no surpirse to me when that happened and I would smile to myeslf whenever I saw the animal and hope that I would be invited to the bash of its downfall. Christmas came and went and then the post election fiasco occuerd and I had few thoughts to spare for the goat. So it wasn't until sometime around March (well we can all be slow) that it dawnd on me that the mbuzi was still around and still grazing. By June I was wondering ... 'Kwani they can't think of an excuse to chinja it?' So one day I approached the owner and asked her what gives?

'Ah huyu hatuwezi mchinja sasa' I was told in a coasto accent 'huyu ashakuwa pet kwa watoto'. It is upon hearing this that I remembered that I had often seen her kids playing with the goat and speaking highly of it. But that's not even the cruncher ... not only do we have a pet mbuzi in my court, but it even has a name. The damned thing is called 'Rehema' ... and it itikas when you call it!!!

Dunia ina mambo!

Of Idiots & Pick-up Lines

So the other day I was walking the short distance from a supermarket to my home in the evening after work. It had been a tough day and I was just generally tired and in need of my warm bed and the opportunity to flip the pages of the thrilling book I had been reading.

As I walked along, my mind lost in my own thoughts and listening to music from my phone through earphones, I became aware of a vehicle that was crawling along beside me. Realising that the guy behind the wheel was trying to get my attention, I unplugged my ears ready to give directions to whatever place he was looking for.

"You look tired," was his opening line and I thought to myself 'Oh brother'.

"That's beacause I am," I said.

"I bought some chicken for dinner today," was his second statment. "Why don't you come along and we could share the meal together?"

I mean really! What kind of pick up line is that? In what parallel universe would some poor damsel be so thrilled as to receive an invitation for chicken (which by the looks of the guy she might have had to cook) that she'd jump into a stranger's car, poverty notwithstanding. Is this what the Kenyan woman searching for a relationship has to contend with? Really! Needless to say I got rid of him through one brief statement but as I walked along I shook my head in wonder.

I have chicken! Eish!

Of Abattoirs and Sanitation Ministers

Sometime back, say around 1999, the powers that be, presumably parliamentarians, thought it wise to enact a law governing environmental issues in this country. And so it was that the National Enviroment Management Authority (NEMA) came to be and I think that the whole set up is generally a good idea.

So it was that NEMA, in carrying out its statutory duties, gave notice to 5 abattoirs in the Dagoretti area to get their act together or get shut down. Upon the expiry of the notice 3 months later, when not enough had been done, the 5 were shut down. Good no? I mean, if you had seen those places on the tele you may wish to sooner become a vegetarian than eat their meat ever again. Those guys wear long thick gum boots because they wade in calf deep filthy murky water (I don't want to imagine meat falling in and just being retrieved and sold at my local butchery). Then there are those scavenger birds that eat to their fill, piles of waste ... *shudder* yuck!

Anyhoo, the Dagoretti MP, who just so happens to be the Minister for Public Health and Sanitation, in a very public show visited these abattoirs and declared that NEMA ought not to have closed them down in the manner they did and should in fact have given them some time to clean up adding that a lamentable 10,000 people were rendered jobless by the closure.

I sit back, scratch my head and wonder. Madam Waziri, is it your stand that the Ministry of Public Health AND SANITATION would rather that Kenyans were poisoned by contaminated meat than 10,000 jobs be temporarily lost? Is it your stand that 3 months notice is not notice at all? Is it your stand that NEMA, which was quite frankly only doing its job, should watch itself in its zeal of undertaking its duties in your constituency?

Real bad show.

Of Inappropriate Office Tunes and Mannerisms

So, yesterday afternoon a new guy joins our office. I must have been out when he was doing the introductory round as I missed it. So I wonder who he is and what he does, but that doesn't get me too wound up as I'm very busy. Not more than 30 minutes after the guy has been seated opposite me (yeah ... open plan offices) he starts to whistle. Who reports to work and on their first day starts whistling? But that's not even the worst of it. What is the guy whistling ... wait for it ... "I like the way you do me, do me ... do me I do you ..."!

"What really is the world coming to?" I ask myself. What happened to the good old days when the work place was a serious place where respect for those around you meant that you kept the extraordinary aspects of your life to yourself? A little stiff perhaps but you know ... sturdy. I sighed, gathered my thoughts and went back to work.

Then his phone rang ... You guessed it. The full uncensored version "Do me, do me, do me, do me ..." The junguz in the office turned some deep shade of fuchsia pink!

Chasing time

Yesterday wasn't a very good day for me. It was like the god of lethargy and slowness had chosen me as his victim of the day.

It was evening and I was in a rush (Tuesday movies are back to 200/= and I'm a Kenyan like that). I was meant to meet someone who'd deliver a letter for me but being caught up in the jam, I got late and they left and I got upset. I managed to get a plan B, who however somewhat compliated my life when discussing the modeof delivery, but that marked the decent of the dark cloud.

Next, I dashed to some building where I wished to get some certain un-speakable beauty treatment done, only to find that they were so busy they couldn't slot me in. That wasn't the bad part. The bad part was that I didn't know what they were called or what floor they were on since I had just heard about their good services, and so had to go up and down the whole building looking for them.

Then I went to the bank to pick an ATM card. Whereas there were 2 counters and both were busy, I sat on the dge of my seat waiting for my turn. When it finally came, I stated my purpose as consicely as possible hoping to be in and out in 2 minutes. The guy on the other side of the counter was obviously tired after a hard day's work and anxiously watching the minutes tick by. He slowly took my details and went to pick the card. Just as my luck that day would have it, the client who came in after me and was being served at the other counter had a collossal problem that apparently needed the full attention and input of both bank guys and I was left staring at the wall as they gave him full assistance. "But I was here first," I quietly thought to myself as I watched the minutes ticking by.

When that was finally over, I popped into a certain shop and after picking my purchases, went through the exact same thing at the till. The chick who was behind me was served before me since they knew her. People, what the hell is wrong with our customer service!

Anyhoo, I somehow managed to get to the movie on time and was well entertained. At some point I figured that getting upset at the world doesn't make things work faster.

Best foot forward?

Well I went and got myself a new job. I had gone for the interview ages ago and was called the other day. I'm very happy with the new place but I think I need to change my mind set. On my very first day I went out for an almost 2 hour lunch when I have a one hour lunch break! As though that weren't bad enough, on my second day, I got to work 45 minutes late!

Really this is meant to be the time to put the best foot forward, show them I was a good choice nini ... but noooooo! Granted I had very good reasons on both occassions but I don't think that new employers are looking out for good excuses!

Learn from the error of my ways and try to make a better first impression.

Of Drugs and Side Effects

So I’ve been unwell and it’s been a real downer. And predictably enough, the worst part was the drugs. I finish today at lunch time and can’t wait. Probably go for a drink later on to celebrate the end of antibiotics!

Anyhoo, when I was given the dawa I decided not to read the box or the ka-slip that comes with it as I was sure I would get each and every side-effect if I knew of it beforehand. So when I got through one of them, I read the slip and was shocked to find that the drug has been found to be carcinogenic when tested on lab rats! I mean really! What’s the point of having the ability to send a man to the moon and a bot to Mars if we can’t cure illnesses without causing CANCER! For crying out loud all I had was a tummy infection which I find a tad more convenient than radiotherapy! Then the other drug’s side effects included a pre-disposition to seizures!!!

On reading some more I recognized most of the side-effects as what I had taken for granted to be caused by the infection. One was a furry feeling in the mouth which I would never actually have understood but for the experience (you don’t want to know). Another was a feeling of daftness which they described as a feeling of confusion. I was much pleased to realize that that was a side effect and not just a natural mental state. I’ll watch for improvements.

Well now I’m glad to say that I’m better and roaring to go. I only wish someone would take the time to make drugs look more appealing and taste better … and of course make them less harmful than what they’re curing.

Of Christian Rock and Daima

So this long weekend, I chose to go to Sherlock’s Den on Sunday. They had promised a great array of rock all night long and I thought that that would just make my evening perfect.

I’d been thinking of doing a meal there since they had such exotic named dishes on their menu, but not being overly hungry, I decided to settle for a cheese pie. So it came like 20 minutes after I ordered it, lukewarm and without cutlery. Thinking that must have been an oversight, I sent the waiter for a knife and fork which he brought back with a cheeky smile. I came to realise the reason for his amusement soon enough when I found that cutting through the pie with a knife and fork would have given Samson a hard time … even with his locks. My boyfriend, thinking (as all men do) that I was just being a damsel in distress tried to remedy the situation and took over the attempts at cutting. When that failed, and short of asking for a chain saw, I just bit in. Heh!

I interrupt this imagery to take you inside the pie. As I bit in and struggled to bite through the cheese, I realised what the problem was. They must have used a chunk of Daima cheese which they didn’t even bother to grate. You must here understand that Daima cheese products are very special. I once bought a chunk of Daima cheddar cheese for its cheap price and almost threw it out. Chewing on it is like chewing on rubber that just won’t let you get the better of it. You chew and chew and when you get tired just swallow coz that’s one battle you just won’t win!

Anyhoo, upon walking in, I had noticed a band setting up and positioned myself strategically to get the best out of their performance. They tuned their instruments to Systems of a Down, and it was all I could do to stop myself from dashing forth and giving them a list of my requests. After waiting patiently and downing more Black Ices than I otherwise would have, they begin. I don’t know the 1st, 2nd … 3rd songs and then I realise why: this is a Christian rock band. I was so sad. Not that there’s anything wrong with Christian music but I really felt cheated. It was like going to a book store only to find that it was a zoo. Mis-representation was the problem. The band (Rock of Ages) by the way was very very good … especially the kid on drums.

I left and went to Choices which is yet to disappoint me!

Of Drycleaners and Attendants

Let me tell you that right now, drycleaners are the very bane of my existence. Well that was true until a few short minutes ago. Let me explain. It begun on Saturday afternoon when I thought it would be a good idea to take just about all my suits for cleaning at the drycleaners at the local shopping center. They do a generally good job, save for the seemingly excessive quantities of chemicals they pour into the clothes … they could almost make your eyes tear! This was such a big step up from the place I used to dryclean in the CBD where clothes would come out reeking of sweat after cleaning. My pal joked about this saying that maybe they also ran a clothes hire business. What we won’t do to save a shilling!

But I digress. They told me that I could go for the clothes the next day. So on the Sunday of the infamous countrywide blackout (dark Sunday?) I go for them during said black out just to find the shop closed. I chalk that off to their not thinking that guys would come for their clad in the dark. No biggie.

Enter Monday evening when I make a stop over on my way home to pick the suits. “Madam pole sana,” I’m told “Lakini hazijakua tayari.” (“Sorry lady but they’re not ready”). I’m put off and disappointed since I only have the reject suits for the next day that I was just about to give out to charity. I would have preferred not to wear those but what to do? In my head, I quickly think that the blackout must have stalled the cleaning process and sigh heavily. It does not however help me put my mind at ease that the guy attending me keeps insisting that I must have taken the clothes for cleaning late on Sunday and that’s why they are not ready. *Sigh*

It’s Tuesday and I’ve had a disappointing and difficult day. All I want to do is curl up in bed with my novel while listening to relaxing music. For lack of anything to wear the next day, I pass by the cleaners thinking it just a quick stop. So the attendant picks my receipt and goes to the back to look for the clothes. Minutes tick on and on. And on, and on, and on. Trying very hard not to get worked up, I ask another attendant to find out why it’s taking so long. After a minute, Attendant No. 2 comes out and informs me that my clothes were mistakenly taken to another branch. I want to cry. Turns out that the other branch gets its clothes cleaned from this outlet and their overzealous or just daft employee picked my clothes with the rest. I really have no fight left in me. Almost as bad as the news of the missing clothes, is the fact that Attendant No. 1 kept me waiting unnecessarily long for bad news and didn’t even have the decency to face me in person but sent a minion!

Wednesday just starts off awfully coz I feel I look bad in a strange suit. I try to greatly minimize movement away from my desk so as not to be seen (this of course turns out to be the day when my bosses want to send me on excursions in the most unlikely of places (Murphy’s Law)). During my rounds, I confide my drycleaner troubles to a pal who clearly does NOT know how to help. He tells me that I’m unlikely to get my clothes back and reminisces about the time when his pants were lost by the cleaners. He says that they told him just what they were telling me until they finally admitted the loss. Not one to take his property lightly, he made a big deal out of the whole thing and finally managed to get compensation. Joy.

Evening comes and I slink off to the cleaners all along hoping that this will be the last time I’ll ever have to go there again. “Ah madam … ni wewe” I’m told by yesterdays Attendant No. 1. “Sasa … hizo nguo hazijakuja bado.” (So, it’s you? Your clothes aren’t back yet”). This time I don’t hold back. I throw the book together with a dictionary and the encyclopedia Britannica at them for good measure. I explain, in no calm tones, that I have nothing to wear the following day and that it is not reasonable to keep someone waiting for such a long time. They assure me that the clothes will be there within the hour since the offending branch has sent someone to deliver them. We agree that I’m to come back in an hour’s time when I’m assured the clothes will have arrived. Thoughts of reporting the matter to the cops as theft flash through my mind but I wait.

So yes that’s where I’m from and I did manage to get the clad. They seem well done to me and I’m primarily relived that my pal’s prediction did not come to pass. As I left, the attendants gave me a little lecture about how to err is human and I shouldn’t get annoyed when all can be so easily rectified. Oi! It would be a wonder if they ever got a whiff of my money again!

Of Singers and Not

So the other day I was on my way to work. I grapple with public transport so I got into a mat and sat restlessly wondering if we’d ever get to town. I like public transport in so far as it affords me an opportunity to read books while in transit since I’m just a book buff (if there is any such thing). Anyway I had finished my previous book just the day before and didn’t have much to do. I remembered that my phone was one of those that store music and figured that that was what would entertain me on this journey.

I took out my earphones and went about untangling them, happy that I had found something to do. As if inspired by my actions, the young, prim, important-looking lady next to me in a hip hair style and a power suit did the same. I really had no problem with her other than to think in a childish voice in my head ‘copy-cat’. I listened to my selection of music and all was well with the world - until the girl next to me starts singing.

Take a step back in order as to better understand the situation. This is an junk of a nissan (late risers can’t be choosers) and therefore has no music. Those without today’s state-of-the-art telephones (but do I say) are left to listen to the chugging of the exhaust pipe and rattling of window panes for entertainment. Enter Chick-D who thinks that the only reason she’s not Céline Dion is that she was born in the wrong continent. And it would most certainly have helped if her voice was in the same category as Céline’s … or Mary J’s … or even the mama of ‘Nipe Shilingi’ fame (whatever happened to her?). But that was not the case. She reminded me of that guy in Idols who during the auditions sang an own composition that went “I really really love my mom …”! I mean, she would have made that ever so mild Tanzanian judge on Tusker Project Fame II (Dan Kiondo) pull an Ian and maybe call her a ‘twit’! If your not with me, let me just break it down and say that her voice was really really not good (politically correct).

And then the chick picks up momentum as she steadily manages to ignore all the curios glances she’s getting from the whole mat. At some point, she’s singing along to a spirited Jang’o Christian song and I seriously feel that it’s all she can do to keep herself from waking up and dancing.

People! Do some among us not grow up with siblings who bully away all inclination we ever had to sing along to anything playing on our walkmans/radios? Do we not have friends (for some of those TPF and Idols contenders) who tell us that we just can’t sing? Do our dogs not growl in agony as we pretend to be Barry White in the shower? Je huu ni ungwana?

Of King and Loos

Heh! Now let me give you the story of the day that transpired just a few minutes ago. I was sitting right here at this comp not 30 minutes ago when I felt the urge to go for a long call (heavy lunch). The office is housed on the 7th floor of our building and the loos are near the entrance at each wing. We had recently suffered a spate of stolen taps and the management has not been happy with us.

Of course these thoughts couldn’t have been further from my mind. I went about my business beginning with the wiping of toilet seat and placing of tissue around it and proceeding with what comes naturally. As I was in the stall, I was briefly aware of the opening of the main door into the loos and some activity. I didn’t think much about it at first but something about the movements; perhaps the length of time during which they proceeded in a seemingly haphazard way, got my attention. My attention was only held momentarily, though, as my mind zoomed to the King (Stephen King) that I’m now reading. I’ll put it this way: right now my job and life generally are just getting in the way of when I can finally get back to my book. It’s a creepy story about cell phones and the part they could play in Armageddon should someone trigger them. The part I was at on my lunch break had to do with the protagonists being crept up on by the bad guys and wondering what to do next. From here, my mind automatically switched to a book I’ve had in the works that is inspired by King in content and which has something to do with a young lady stuck alone on the 7th floor of a building when things start getting spooky. I briefly wonder how I’ll carry the story forth then quickly switch my attention back to the person making strange noises outside. What if it’s a boogeyman of sorts? What if they’re doing something they don’t want me knowing about and upon my emergence they grab me and jump out the window with my last site on earth being their face? (At this point I remember thinking that that would be rather unfortunate as I would rather go face down). I drummed my feet on the floor, partly to shake these thoughts out of my head and partly to let the person of strange loo habits know that they were not alone in case they were doing something untoward like stripping.

Anyway, I think I’ve been particularly slow minded (politically correct for dim witted) today since I got to bed jana late after watching the match and haggling with a cab driver (story for another day). Well I heard what sounded like a hanger drop then soon thereafter water started to flow. Except that it didn’t sound like water in a sink but in a shower. The door opens and closes. And that is when (finally) the pieces started to fall together. Could it be that the phantom of the disappearing taps had visited our floor again? I got out of the cubicle and regarded the scene before me with the dumb look of surprise. The Phantom had indeed come back and this time gotten away with 1 of the 2 precious taps.

Well now I wait to be questioned by the building’s security on what I might have seen. What if I’d gotten out of the cubicle and met this person face to face in the act of removing a tap? Would they have attacked me? Would I have had the good sense to cry out for help? Would my voice have abandoned me as happens to many of King’s protagonists? I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.

Of Demeanors and Smugness

So the other day I was on my way home after a hard day’s work when I chanced upon some kids who seemed to be collecting money for some charity or other. I have always thought that a rather harsh way of collecting money for a good cause: sending out primary school kids to stalk strangers and beg for money while quickly and almost always inarticulately explaining what it was for. I thought that if I were the Minister for Education, I would not permit such activities to be sanctioned by Kenyan schools. I wondered what the charity would be. A new school fence? A new school bus? Assisting needy students? As all this went through my mind, the kids I was expecting to accost me for money looked at me and at the young lady who was walking astride me on the other side of the street, and quickly crossed over to pester her for money.

I felt as though I had been slapped. “What …. How … Where” I asked myself. How dare they! In a split second, they had concluded that they had more chances in getting money out of her than me! The audacity of some people (young though they may be)! Granted, I may not necessarily have parted with some cash … but I could have been convinced.

On cooling off and losing my sense of indignation I wondered what it is that had brought them to their conclusion. I have been told that I at times carry a headmistress’ severe expression on my face when I walk alone, deep in thought. Could that have been it? Or maybe it was the fact that I was dressed in a boring dark suit and she was dressed in a young-hip way? Could it possibly be they thought her younger or prettier? Maybe they just preferred her hairstyle!

Does the way you carry yourself say something about you that you’re not aware of? Where my demeanor seems to say ‘You better leave me the hell alone’, what does yours say? Are you inviting (like my pal who keeps getting countless marriage proposals from seemingly serious men) or foreboding? Friendly or curt? And does your ‘look’ say it to everyone or just a few (in my case the young and innocent)?

I went off pondering these thoughts. I was however glad to note, from the corner of my eye, that the girl across the street had declined to invest in their noble cause and couldn’t help but smile to myself, smug as I thought ‘serves you right!’

Of M-Pesa and Service Provision

For all the simplicity using Safaricom’s M-Pesa is meant to provide, I’ve had a rather hard time at it. I’ve always noticed long queues at various M-pesa agent points and so thought that I’d be better off giving it a wide berth. However, yesterday I needed to send money and therefore decided to give it a shot. Besides, all their adverts made it sound like the best thing since sliced bread.

I went to Mama Ngina Street and at the first agent I tried, I was rudely told that the person dealing with that service had walked out and I could wait. Feeling that our liberalized capitalist society should not allow for such responses, I quickly moved on to the next one. Here, they really went out of their way in their bid to make me feel unimportant. I was the only person there for that service but they had me wait as the staff finished off what must have been a very juicy story even after my request for service. When I finally got their attention, I told the lady serving me that I had never used the service before and had no idea how it worked. In a manner that made me feel like I was wasting her time, she took down the necessary details and sent the money. I was a little put out as I was hoping for an enlightening discussion. She informed me that I couldn’t register for the service as the Safaricom system was down (which is something I hear all too often from complaining customers) and asked that I try again later.

So here I am no more informed than I was before I visited the outlets. I haven’t gone back to register lest I disturb the agents in their all important story telling sessions.

What’s so complicated about the concept of customers being important? Why is it so difficult to get good service in this country? If I don’t spend much or indeed anything today, why not just be courteous and hope I come back tomorrow now that I know what’s on offer? That’s just service provision at this corner of the globe!

Of Fruits and Making a Point

So the other day I was heading home after a hard day’s work and thought it would be a good idea to get some fruits on my way. I stopped by a kiosk that’s on the way and had a craving for apple mangoes since their season was just about to end. I felt around searching for good ones and couldn’t seem to find any. The kiosk operator (if you’ll let me call him that) was eyeing me in a way that made me wonder if he was wishing me away; I seemed to have interrupted his meal. Being a believer in the adage “he who does not work should not eat”, I asked for his help in choosing ripe fruits. He begrudgingly came over and handed me quite a number of fruits which were, to me, unsatisfactory for one reason or the other. I told him as much and said resignedly that that was certainly not my lucky day, as I made to leave.

“Yaani hununui? (you mean to say that you’re not buying any?)” he asked with an incredulous look on his face.
“Lakini sijapata, (but I haven’t gotten any good ones)” I replied.
“Wewe fanya hivi, (you do this)” he said, obviously very put off. “Hii duka, usiwahi kurudi hapa kununua kitu tena. Umesikia? (don’t you ever come back to this shop. Do I make myself clear?) ”
My shock was palpable. It however very quickly gave way to amusement and quite in spite of myself and in spite of the fact that I didn’t want to make the poor guy feel any worse, I burst out laughing.

You need to understand that I’m the kind of person who keeps grudges against non-performing service providers. On some day a million years ago, a certain tout in a matatu refused to give me my change and I all but swore to myself that I would never get into that vehicle again. More than that I was determined to cause a scene when I’d be with a group of people who I would convince to take another vehicle because those were thieves (lame I know). I never went back to a certain chain of stores because their staff was rude to me. I never purchased anything from a particular outlet after the goods they sold me proved to be of inferior quality. That’s just me.

So for this trader to tell me what he did made me realize that it may at times seem silly to take such stands as though the world were just black and white. It may at times be useful to factor in the greys … and the reds, greens and violets. Take a step away from your usual way of viewing things today and give someone a chance.

(For the record, I haven’t been to that stall since. With the competition blossoming at every corner, his wish is my command! The customer is always right!) (Just like me to give with one hand and take with the other. Consider it broad mindedness?)

Of Unhappy Employees and Turnovers

Today I started my driving classes. I know, I know it’s way way long over due. You see when I was younger, I figured that since there was no vehicle to practice on, there was really no point in getting a DL. And up to some point I think I was right since I witnessed so many of my pals doing the classes over and over again as they kept forgetting for lack of practice. But now I most certainly wish I hadn’t had all that foresight. Where’s the time to spend in front of painted planks termed model towns playing with toy cars? Well I’ve been forced to create the time and study with guys who are whole decades younger than me.

Today was my first class and the thing that struck me most from it is that the school’s owner is a tough employer. It first became apparent during my theory class when my teacher, a guy who sounded very experienced in his field and with an easily understandable teaching approach, kept being called every so often to run strange errands for his boss including at one point something that had to do with a bucket and water. What went through my mind is why interrupt paying students’ classes to get errands done? Secondly I thought that the guy was either a very special cleaner or a misused trainer.

I then went off on my practical and, being day one, it involved a lot of talking. Somehow, the conversation managed to find itself maneuvered into territories of difficult employers and my instructor had a litany of tales to tell. Not wanting to interrupt him, we managed to get in some 20 minutes or so of relevant talk and 40 minutes of employer bashing.

This train of thought leads me to a lady I know who just cannot keep a house help. She had a good albeit woebegone one who stayed for quite a while. She left for unfortunate reasons and since then, the turnover has been much like that of the stock exchange (I’d really love to understand what exactly that is). New one come today and gone tomorrow. I think she follows them around bickering about all they do wrong (which to her is all they do) and then chases them away in anguish.

Well this being the month that begins with a worker’s holiday, let us try and be charitable to our employees.

The Workman's Disconnect

So you worked at a factory where you were injured (say you lost your hand) during the course of your duties and you sued your previous employer. The matter has been dragging in court for the last 3 years and you finally got a hearing date when you expect it will be concluded.

But wait … what’s this? Your Advocate summons you to his chambers and tells you that the laws of the land have changed. He explains that whereas there had been a set court procedure for handling claims such as yours, the Parliamentarians had, in their infinite wisdom, thought it wise to cut off all middle men (like lawyers and magistrates) in this cumbersome process of workmen’s compensation and create the Work Injury Benefits Act, presumably to make matters easier.

Whereas the parliamentarians had had the foresight to provide for such details as injuries between the tips of the ‘acromion’ and the ‘olcranon’, they had failed to make transitional provisions. Your lawyer explains that the Act, which came into operation in December 2007, provides that you are not entitled to sue your employer for damages arising out of your accident but should raise up the same with a certain Director of Occupational Safety and Health, who is, incidentally, yet to be appointed. He says that it matters not that your accident occurred before the law was changed since the new Act specifically provides that matters that pre-date it, such as yours, fall within its ambit.

So what to do? Your efforts at claiming your rights have lead to naught and your (previous?) Advocate is following up on his fees. You stand waiting for the position on the ground to follow the law like the proverbial cart put before the horse.

Of sweets!

So what has tickled me today is an article in today's Nation Newspaper about the elections that took place in Packistan yesterday. Ati to celebrate their party's victory, supporters of the Pakistan Peoples Party shared sweets on the streets! I wish I could upload the picture; they're all zakes! Can you picture your old man hanging out in the street grinning from ear to ear and chewing on a lollipop! You see, alcohol really isn't a bad thing; it gives people something to do!

Me Birthday

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear Me ................., Happy Birthday to me.

Another one bites the dust huh? Wiser not older? More experienced in matters worldly? One less year to live? I've heard them all but still get all excited around my birthday ... like a little kid with candy. I'm sadly quick running out of 20's and will soon have to start repeating years and explaining away the error that they made on my birth certificate ...

Well here's to wisdom!

Tired

I'm tired of talking
Tired of words
Tired of opinions
That mean little to 'lords'

I'm tired of castigation
Tired of good intentions
Tired of chastisement
Tired of suppression

What is the point?
Who is listening?
Who is it who cares?
And wants more than a political 'christening'?

Pray for Kenya

Well there you have it. The elections, which should have been a greatly enriching experience, have passed and left a bitter trail of death and destruction in their wake. Most of us feel somewhat cheated after proudly having braved numerous hours on queues in order as to practise our democratic right to vote, just for the Country to descend to such great depths of mayhem.

A lot has been said and I don't really want to add ink to the gallons that have gone before mine, but I will point out that what's going on, especially in the Rift Valley is most distressing. I heard it said that violence, if unchecked, gathers momentum of its own and I fear that that may be where we're headed, if we're not already there. Saddest of all is that the violence seen there seems to have very little to do with the elections but a deep seated hatred that has for decades festered in the hearts of the perpetrators and has just found an excuse for release. How do we stop that? How do we reconcile warring brothers?

Say a prayer for Kenya today.

There Are African Leaders Out There!

This guy must be the son of an African President! I speak of Vladimir Putin, Russia's President whose term expires in 2008. Why you ask? He has decided that although he'll step down in 2008, upon the expiry of his constitutionally allowed 2-year term in office, he will work his machinations to come back as an all powerful Prime Minister (a position that doesn't currently exist). The PM post will have more powers than the president, who will then be a figure head. And it does not even end there, my dears. Get this, the guy's plan is to then run for office in the next term (2012) as the constitution does not preclude a 2-term office bearer from running agian so long as it is not for a consecutive 3rd term!

Can we extend the Mo Award to this guy? Clearly Africa is not alone in its bid to retire head of states!

My Tumultuous Weekend

In a bid to entertain, let me tell you about my weekend.

It starts on Friday night when I have plans to go for a friends housewarming after a little do for my bro's birthday. Another pal offers to give me a ride as she'd also be headed there at the same time. We agree that I'm to call her at about 10pm. So the do ends early and I hung around town until 10pm and call. Where is she you wonder? She's gone! Just gone! Forgot all about me, whose been hanging out late specifically just to meet her. (Choice words censored here).

OK fine. I call the housewarmee who says that I can always grab a mat and notes that I'd be fine if I chuck at the right stop. So it's westlands and I've been aware that the bus stop was moved although I'm not too sure where to. I jump into a mat and for some reason just can't get myself to ask the tout where I should alight. I ride on and on and when I realise I must be on my way to Kangemi, I ask to be shukishwad. Everyone in the mat gives me a funny look and I only realize why when I'm out. It's the dark of night and I'm in the middle of nowhere. It's drizzling and vehicles are whizzing past me. I tell you Mary must have been surprised at all the Hail Mary's that went up to her that day. But she was very good to me and I got to a safe place from where my buddies picked me.

Saturday afternoon. For one, my phone is almost picked from my pocket while travelling in a mat. A non-descript ka-jamaa sat next to me and I only noticed something was amiss when I felt something move in my pocket. His hands were crossed and you would never have guessed what he was up to. Maybe with a bit more practice he'll be so good at it that he'll open up his own Mobile Phone outlet.

Saturday night. I go out for a bash that was rather delightful with a bunch of my pals. We hung out together until the wee hours of morn and then THEY ALL LEAVE ME IN K1 WITHOUT MY PHONE, MY KEYS OR MY BAG! The dude in whose car I'd left my stuff (still tormented by my near loss of phone) up and left without a goodbye and put off his phone. That was OK since we were still a number. But come the end of the night, they ALL forgot me. There were 2 separate means, a car and a cab. I had gone to find out how much the cab guy would charge us and when I came back there was no one. Apparently each car thought I'd gone with the other. (Choice words censored again).

After taking in the shock and thinking at least I have some money in my pocket, I go back to the cabs to find them all gone!!! Wallowing in self pity I go to Pitchers where the waitresses warily ask "Madam ukonashida?" And they ask huko from a distance lest I start off on a tirade of litanies describing all that's wrong with the world and force them to be there for the next shift. And at the time I'm asking myself even if I get a cab, where the hell am I going without keys.

Well I somehow manage to get home

Sunday. I spend the day in bed where 'friends' can't get to me!

Author's ego his downfall

Now this should just knock your socks off! Ati some ka-polish guy, an author no less got jealous after learning that his wife had had a lover. So what does he do? He schemes and plots on his revenge and lets the details simmer in his mind for a while. The poor lover-man is tortured, starved and finally killed and his lifeless body is fished out of a river by the baffled police who find no leads.

Perfect crime no? Perhaps it would have been ... had the author not thought of turning his crime into a book! Yeap! He puts the gorry details of the crime and packages it into no less than a bestselling book. So one day, some bored cop retires home after a hard day's work to relax with his family with a glass of wine and a book. Yes, you guessed it. He puts two and two together and the author is arressted and tried for the murder. The author is Krystian Bala and the book is titled 'Amok'.

I kid you not. Check this out.

Ms. Knowles

Doesn't super sexy and fabulous Beyonce look like your average Njeri in this picture? Go on ladies, admit it. When I saw the picture I was first drawn to it coz she looked just like my primo maths teacher. Glad to know the stars aren't always sparkling!

Waiters

The other day, one of the local television stations did a piece on snoozing watchmen (didn’t you just feel sorry for all of those poor souls who addressed the cameras without knowing that they would soon be sacked for their errant ways?)

Well I got to thinking about the service sector and thought that a piece should certainly be done on waiters. I seriously believe that there should be a special school where all in the service industry should go before being set free on the unsuspecting public. (You can even throw in a 'bar' exam of sorts ...) And they should have some form of Hippocratic oath before graduating to serve to the best of their ability … and do no harm to mankind.

I have many a war tale on my sufferings at the hands of waiters. Why only yesterday I was at one of these famous South African outlets where I ordered a meal and a soda. Lo and behold I got a humongous ½ liter bottle of soda whereas I wanted the smaller one and worst of all, it came open. I mean really! In this day and age, who serves drinks which are not open in font of the clientele. Think dirt, germs, drugs, spit, detergent? Anything could find its way in leaving you in great difficulty when trying to explain to the doctor what exactly it was you ate that caused your food poisoning. So I tell the lady waitress that I would prefer to see the soda open before me. At first she plays a nearly convincing impression of a deaf mute as she busily engages in serving my counterparts. When I repeat and insist, she lethargically rolls her eyes (why roll your eyes if your going to do so lethargically? Won’t the meaning being conveyed by the gesture be lost?) and says “Hivyo ndiyo tunafanya huku.” No apology. No explanation. Nothing. And the woman moves away. End of story.

Later on while unwinding from work, I go to a joint known for its simple setting along Mombasa Road. The place is kicking and it’s all we can do at first to get a seat. We manage and order one round of drinks. It’s Karaoke night and it’s going fairly well. So the Waitress comes (I don’t know why they’re always female) and takes our orders. Even before I realize that there’s someone there to take our orders, I notice her plaintiff voice rising above the sound of the music when in answer to my friends question on whether they have a certain drink. She's shrieking and saying that we need to give her one single payment for all the drinks as the barman won’t give her change for separate payments.

Pause. Consider:
a) If we didn’t know each other, would she ask us to put our heads together and come up with a single payment?
b) What does the mode/amount of payment have to do with whether or not the drink my friend wants is in stock?
c) Why the shrieking?

Whereas we were in a sociable mood, we provide a solution to her change problem by only giving her one note and would you know it, the $!&<# waitress decides that the change is her tip. Whereas we had not received service worth tipping for, and do not believe that waiters (or any one else for that matter) should unilaterally pick what they want from your money, we call her and ask for the balance. She moves off to get it but never comes back. We have to track her down and ask her again, at which point she puts on a baffled expression and swears amicably that she'd forgotten. Well at least this time she returns with the money. Ooiie!

And I can’t sign this off without mention of the personal hell I’ve been treated to by these people called waiters. I drink hot milk (bite me) and hot water on occasion (not together though ... that would just be tea devoid of tea bags!). I have watched the drink brought in tall glasses (more times than I care to count) , so hot that the waiter carries it on a saucer. If you can’t hold it neither can I. And no I will not just wait for it to cool ... it won't be hot anymore. Just put it in a %*<$!+@ cup!

I’d like to see a few of these guys giving TV commentaries on why they’re so bad at their jobs and then go the way of the now unemployed watchmen after their 15 minutes.

Tremors

Isn't Kenya just the the place to be? So there were tremors and all and sudry were eager to air their tremor experiences. A chick on telly was so shaken (pardon the pun) that she could barely speak and claimed to have been traumatized. I think it's the first time ever in Kenya's history that the government was not blamed for the goings on ... oh then again, that's not true. There were calls for the Government to pull up it's socks in disaster preparedness.

Then the funniest part, (though I'm sure that those who suffered would not consider it funny) was when on the night of 16.07.2007, a text message warning of a huge impending earthquake made the rounds. People were woken up from their houses by watchmen and told to move out of their homes for their own safety. Family and friends called each other and warned of the impedeing danger. People moved in their vehicles covered in blankets to petrol stations where they sought safety (why anyone would consider a petrol station safe is beyond me). They left at 3:00 am and got tired of waiting for disaster at about 6:00 am. The Government Spokesman (who no one likes) got all worked up since the rumour said that the source of the information was the American Embassy. He was hurt that Kenyans are so willing to beleive a mzungu because of their mzungu status. In their defence I think it's cause the US had said (conveniently after the fact) that it had known that The Tsunami (the big one) would occur.

So there was a tremor today, tommorrow, the day after, and soon it became routine to the point of being boring. Those ones of 'Oh, it's 5:30, kwani leo hakuna tremor' or 'You felt that tremor?' 'Yeah.' end of story. But you have to be entertained in a country where the president's response to a tremor is 'Mtu ameskia nini? Ni kama kunateleza? Msijaliiiiiii. Mnajua hivyo ndio dunia iko siku hizi'!!

friggatriskaidekaphobia

Would you beleive that the above is an actual word! And what does it mean? The irrational fear of Friday the 13th (and I don't mean the movie!). See http://skepdic.com/friggatriskaidekaphobia.html if you don't beleive me.

Have a good one!

New phone

Me's got a new phone! Me's got a new phone! Me's got a new phone!! Shnazzy huh? I'm really really liking it! Granted it's only a few hours old but it's great.

I learnt to do the warranty thing to learn about the phone. If you're the proud owner of a Nokia, press

*#92702689# (ie *#war0anty#)

and you'll learn the serial number, year of manufacture etc, etc. Comes in handy when you think you're buying a new phone only to realise it's got huko 3 hours talk time already spent.

This phone has the most beautiful sound ever (stereo). My buddy says the wezi's did me a favour taking my ex-phone ... now I'm not so sure I don't agree with her.

About the weather

So when I was getting dressed, there were signs of a beautiful day in the making. And after the weekend's bursts of sun, I had no reason to doubt. So I'm in a short skirt and have come to Thika where it's not only cold but raining! Joy.

My Phone Gone

So my phone was stolen this weekend while at Psys. It was Saturday night and I was having a ball with a number of pals when somebody came up with the bright idea of forming a mugithi train (well at the time I thought it was bright). Always one for a little fun I joined in and all was great until I put my hand over the pocket of my jeans and realized that my phone was no longer there. I immedeatly knew that it was the guy behind me who had picked my pocket and I told him as such. He put on a long suffering face and accused me of having lost my marbles. I would have none of that. I roughed him into the loo and searched him (in the presence of 2 of my buddies (who would later say that I was last seen scuffling with some jamaa in the loos!!!)) but didn't find it. We called it and it wasn't on mteja yet. So I dashed out of the loo hoping to hear it ringing through the loud banter and music but tht was not to be.

So the thief guy comes after me saying something or other while waving his hands and then leaves. I was still not satisfied because I KNEW that the guy had stolen my phone. So I follow him out and see him put something in a car that drives off. I pretend to see the license plate number and nod while pointing at him as if to say 'I got you now'. I'm not too sure if I fooled him though coz I'd really have needed bionic vision to have been able to see that far. So he comes towards me daring me to bring it on & I go for back up.

The back up comes and I get all over his face telling him that he's a thief and that I'm taking him straight to the cops. And I mean all over his face with barely a centimeter between our noses. And lo and behold a crowd of about 10 not-so-nice looking guys materializes and they ask what we want with their boy. Being hyper-active (what with the pynts in the system and the safe knowledge I have back-up) I shout at them telling them the way their boy is a no-good-thief who were taking to the cops and blah-blah-blah. Luckily, part of my back-up notices that these guys look like they mean business and tells us to back off (I can't remember if I needed restraining) and the guys just walk away. As they leave I notice that one was holding the back of his pants like he might have had a gun and I quickly think 'He! My phone wasn't that expensive! If you want it that bad, you can certainly have it!'

So here I am phoneless. The story wouldn't be complete without my noting that I was in the club for a further 3 hours in the least and I got the DJ to play my choice of music by explaining to him that my phone had been stolen ... Making the best of a bad situation?

FA Cup Finals

So the FA Final's today. My team (Arsenal) is out so I don't really know who to cheer. As I'm not a hater, I think I'll cheer Chelsea since I don't think they've ever won... At least I can always run back & delete this post if things don't go my way! The virtues of technology!

Just A Thought - First Step

What do I hope to offer you that you haven’t been exposed to at least half a dozen times a day for a long, long time? What great new finding or idea do I propose to bring to the table? Well to be honest, none. I don’t believe myself a great thinker like the Socrates and Newton’s of this world. Then again in all fairness to those who lived in their time, there may well have been those who thought up the same philosophies and scientific notions before them but just never thought of putting them down on paper. And maybe that’s where we all go wrong. To have great thoughts and not act on them. It’s kind of like telling God “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t really want to be walking from place to place since I have a car, so you just take these legs and give them to someone else.” The fallacy of it all. And yet how often do we do exactly that.

Well excuse me you non-religious types. My reference to God was not meant to make of this piece Christian writing so just wait a minute before you turn elsewhere saying that this doesn’t concern you. (That’s another thing we all tend to do. Cluster ourselves into groupings where we feel safe and look for faults in those who don’t conform. I think the manifestation of this trait is directly proportional to the strength of one’s beliefs).

But I digress. Eager to use myself as an example, I point out that it’s taken me more than 4 years to write this simple piece. I don’t know how long it will take me to seek to get it published (but that’s a story for another day). 4 years is a mighty long time. And they say that if you don’t use it you lose it. How many of my brain cells, initially geared towards writing, have since died and been used to produce hair (which has since fallen off due to the numerous procedures I’ve tried on my head). How much more captivating (the assumption here is that it’s captivating at all) would this article have been, if I had done it when I first got the thought?

I am also eager to share the blame here since I’m sure I’m not alone. How many of the projects you wished to undertake have since become white elephants with truck loads (OK. Let’s stick to big-bag-full) of money pumped in, followed by a loss of interest or lack of zeal to see it through. How many great ideas have you had but let pass away as they’d have entailed too much work? It does not matter that the work involved sourcing for funds and you sat back pitying yourself for being poor Think about it. As for me, I’ve taken my first step.

Indonesia

Every once in a while I sit down and wonder: what did the Indonesians do to God? I don't mean this in an anti-christian (... or anti-indonesian for that matter) kind of way but ... really. This question on the collection of islands making up the country first dawned on me when in December 2004 (yes it was that far back) the famous Tsunami (which educated many of us on the existance of such phenomena) hit. It was truly heart wrenching to watch events unfold and tally the deaths as they were reported. Whereas many countries were affected, Indonesia was hardest hit.

That would probably have been enough basis for my question above, but wait there's more. In 2005, 2 earthquakes and a further tsunami hit the country causing untold suffering. In December 2006 there's a Boeing 737 plane that went missing, 2 ferrys sank and now, there are floods displacing hundreds of people. Keep these guys in your prayers.

Of Suspicions & Unworthy Lives

So they've gone & done it again! Forgive me but what the hell is wrong with the US? I'm ranting about the military intervention in Somali. What is wrong with these people? Does super power = super bully?

Not following my aruments huh? Where I come from is here. When I was much younger & watching CNN I heard about the US intervention in Iraq (Dessert storm) and heard countless stories of successful raids where a 'minimal' number of civilian casualties were reported (more often than not, the States claimed that the local reports on civillian death tolls were fabricated and over - exaggerated.) Then there was some strike in Afghanistan aimed at some Taliban/Al Quaeda base which instead hit some pharmacy. Even then, brave military faces stated that the attack had gone exactly as planned even though a 'few' civillians had died in the attack. This was when it first came to me that the reports were not totally honest and that the Americans did not have a great deal of respect for foreigners' lives.

So now they go to Somalia and through air missiles bomb some target where, hoorah, a suspected leader of an Al Quaeda Cell (suspected of masterminding the terrorist bombings in Kenya and Tanzania) is suspectedly killed. Please!!! And what was the price paid for this speculation? A 'few' civillian casualties; minimal price to pay for the 'possible' destruction of terrorists.

And they wonder why the war against terror is not being won? Wake up! I'd hate for the States to one day 'suspect' that my neighbour's a terrorist. It may lead to the total annihilation of my town. See what happened in Iraq over the suspected WMD's? I rest my case.

December

It's not my fault and no it's not yours either. No one can blame you. It's just the holidays. From the beginning of this month my mind has slowly been slipping into NO WORK gear. I get to work late and leave early without having all too much to show for the time in between. I blame it on
1) my employer who was so indescrete as to let it leak that we're closing the office on the 15th of Dec(Yipppeee!!) and on
2) my workmates who are always eager to go off for a drink.
Seriously, I think I deserve a medal for coming in at all!

I think in Kenya it hails from the long tradition that has been Fridays. The mind goes on autopilot at about 10am and most systems shut down at 12pm. If however you only work half-day (lucky &@#}/!) this process begins much earlier. So in this month, the overpowering feeling of lethargy slowly begins to consume you when you first sign a letter dated December and notice the ever increasing number of beer adverts and promotions.

Don't fight it ... just go with the flow!!!

Liftiquette

We all do it. All we city/town dwellers use elevators. It may be by necessity or sheer interest but its there. I, who use the contraption daily, have had to force my jaw shut and swallow many a not-so-friendly comment in my wake. Having been pushed, shoved and even propositioned to in a lift, I stopped and thought ‘Wait! This must end! Let’s lay down the law here!”. So here, in self-emancipation from my tormented journeys in lifts, I present to you my little list of Do’s & Don’ts for all lift users.

1. Thou shall not spoil the air/pass wind/fart
You don’t do it while your boss has called you into his office possibly to promote you. If catholic, you don’t do it in the confessional. This shows that those muscles in the nether region work. A good clench at the backside accompanied by careful body positioning will ensure that it doesn’t rip free to suffocate the unsuspecting and un-gas-mask-wielding mob locked with you within those tiny confines.

2. Thou shall give space to those exiting before moving in
It is not brain science. Until those people who are in, come out, there’ll be no space to move in to. It does not matter how much of a hurry you may be in. It doesn’t even matter that you are an important personality. Really. Stand back, let them out, and then go in.

3. Thou shall be considerate of others
You walk onto the ground floor, hear the bell announcing the arrival of an elevator, and immediately set off into an elbow-to-chest and foot-to-foot scramble to get in first, that would make any rugby coach proud. The people you found there were not on an educational tour organized by Otis Elevators to admire the wonderful opening and shutting mechanisms of the lift doors. Behave yourself.

4. Thou shall not push others in order to select a floor
So due to the matters raised in 2 and/or 3 above, you were the first person in and were pushed off to a remote corner. You now realize that you have to indicate where you wish to alight and the controls are at the front. Stop for a minute and consider. Is it really necessary for you bully and batter those around you to get to the front? You’d be surprised to learn that Kenyans are actually quite friendly people. If you just say “3 please,” audibly enough, your assured of a response.

5. Thou shall only push your way out as a last resort
This is closely linked to 4 above. A simple “Excuse me please” will generally have people making room for you to pass. Of course there are those die-hard characters who think that being polite is a preserve for those of Tanzanian decent, and feel no need to oblige. Try tapping this type on the shoulder and repeating the request. Where all else fails, the pushing and shoving will get you out!

6. Thou shall not engage in unwelcome romantic banter with strangers
Really, it’s happened to me. This guy decides I look like good wife material and tries to extract as much information from me as he can in the overly packed and otherwise quiet cubicle. The level of my embarrassment is indescribable. Not everyone is chatty-chatty in small spaces and very few people want to bear their souls (or listen to souls being borne to them for that matter) in a lift. Do us all a favour and find another way into the dating scene.

Poem - Discord

The weather very aptly describing how I feel
The rain pouring down, oblivious to all appeal
The silence quite deafening, the discord loud
And all this happening without a single sound

The distance, quite great, though invisible in fact
With all conversation cleverly aimed to distract
From the matter at hand, the longing to be one
So much to say but all left undone

How long will it last? What will it take?
When will they both realize what’s at stake?
Will everything be lost and the house of cards come down?
Will they become a memory in each other’s crown?

Politics Lollisticks!

COMMENTARY – POLITICS AND YOUR HEALTH

Does the countries political landscape ever make you sit back and wonder why you are Kenyan? Why you couldn’t have been born into some low key country where during elections you agonize over the wide array of amazing candidates full of potential who are willing to serve as opposed to such consideration as tribe, oranges and bananas or even pay? Well you’d be hard pressed to find such a country. Even the supposedly developed world suffers from the evil that is politics with leaders such as Tony Blair refusing to let go of power even though the writing’s on the wall and ex-leaders such as Bill Clinton pointing an accusing finger at George W. Bush’s administration for not doing enough to try and ‘kill him’. (Aside: I find it morally reprehensible for any non-extremist leader to stand up and say that they tried all they could to kill X, Y or Z. Really what message does that send to the children? If he’s bad enough kill him? No wonder there are terrorist students in American and other schools who go around shooting their classmates because their parents forced them to do their homework. And no they are neither called Ali nor Fatuma!)

The point is that politics is all about power. It’s a game where only the shrewdest survive. Hence all the alliances and bickering. You might sit in at a rally (or follow the same from the comfort of your home) and get all worked up against the speakers ‘Foe’. You might gnash your teeth with disgust at what the ‘Foe’ is meant to have done and even call for his immediate arrest/dismissal/deportation. Unbeknown to you, immediately after the rally, the speaker may be headed for a meeting with the supposed Foe for a drink.

“You really got me there,” Foe would laugh. “We’re hitting below the belt now are we? Watch out for the news tomorrow!”

“Oh dear friend,” Speaker would laugh. “You know how it is! I’ll just have to think up a scandal to counter yours!”

(Protracted laughter)

“So anyway, how is Mama Toto? You guys should really come over for tea sometime. It’s been really long …”

And there you are at your local burning with indignation at ‘Foe’s’ evil deeds. Getting ready to take part in a mass demonstration against Foe to achieve some purpose or other. Take a leaf from my book; don’t sweat the political small stuff. Refuse to be used as a pawn in anyone’s political mileage. You may die of an ulcer while the politicians continue acting their soap and earning their pay.

Bad day

What's the remedy to a bad day?

Ja Rule in the Country

So yesterday, as I was minding my own business on my way home, we chance upon a motorcade of Celtel vehicles & wonder what the hell? When we fika outside Hilton we find mob guys just chilling & that's when it hit us: Ja Rule. So with the rest of the curios Kenyans we hang out waiting for him to chuck. The man has a bodyguard the size of KICC. He just dwarfed these Kenyan pumped guys sent on the scene.

We wait around as they make their arrangements ... and finally he gets out of the car. I suck in a mouthful of air ready to scream and applaud but luckily hold myself back. Why you ask? There's an akward silence as the celebrity and crowd size each other up for a milisecond. Then the moment is lost as he dashes into the hotel. You should have heard the comments "yaani ni mfupi hivo?", "hiyo tu?", "hata mi nimlight kumliko!" I laughed all the way home. Kenyans will be Kenyans.

Test

This is some sort of trial. I've been unable to write anything here for sometime. Don't really know if it was Blogger or my terrbile internet connection. Well let's see.

Fat Cats

So now MP's hike their pay YET AGAIN. Whatever guise they give it, more money is just more money. But why should they lower their heads in shame? It's not money from their pockets. No sweat off their backs. They must go to their exlusive retreat spots and just laugh themselves silly. It's the easiest way to make money. Who needs Anglo-leasing when you can do things in a legitimate fashion.

Just try to remember all this the next time you're in a voting booth.