Thursday, October 30, 2008

The rudiments of writing

I don’t claim to be a writer. Neither do I claim not to be one. However, I do know that there are two basic things that can greatly boost one’s authorship.

1: Language
It matters not what language you write in, mastery of language leads to great writing. Mastery in this case does not necessarily mean being able to cross all t’s and dot all i’s, conjugate and convolute verbs and nouns, or even to spew unheard of vocabulary. It simply means being able to ply language in a fashion that will captivate the reader to want to read that extra word.

2: Logic/ Flow/ Sense
Sorry folks, I am unable to comment on this. Being of the ‘intruded’ sex, I am genetically pre-disposed to lack the basic tenets of the above-mentioned. More oft than not, sense not only escapes me in its entirety, but does so sticking it’s tongue out and singing the old ‘not-so-negro-spritual’ “Shumakia, ka-nyama ka guku...."

I you don’t believe me, please feel free to start an argument with me and see where it leads.

Back in the day - Erykah Badu

Monday, October 27, 2008

My new Soccer policy and other mishmash

I have decided that from now on I am going to root for the underdog in all soccer matches.... urm.... Go Wigan!!

I am seriously craving supa-snack (You remember that delicious ornage chocolate we had when we were growin up? Yes that one!) Anybody who gives me relevant information about where to get some will be generously rewarded! (I'll give you half my supa-snack bar)

Today being laundry day, I was forced to wear a pair of camouflage pants I found in the back of my closet, needless to say, I feel ridiculous and look outrageous

I have a sneaky suspicion someone switched my coffee to decaf, could the perpetrator of this heinous act come foward and confess!! I promise, if you come foward you shall be dealt with with leniency!

I know everyone is complaining about gas prices but I on the other hand am being proactive. I'm looking for my broom. (I hear they have really good gas mileage!) I'll jump-start that broom till it flies!!

Lastly, I really miss a certain someone..... Seriously K, this juju!!


Kiss from a rose - Seal


Yani this had me ROTFLMAO (Internet speak for saying it jolly well had me tickled!)

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Incase you doubted who I am, mimi ni mkenya!

Another really looong post….. :-p

I grew up as a ghetto Barbie if any such term exists (Of course if anyone insinuates that am a Barbie I would vehemently brush off that accusation with my perfectly manicured nails and insist that I am a G!!) As such I had an extremely twisted childhood. This was the case scenario. I lived in the hood in a village somewhere all dust and rivers, however, my very educated parents insisted on queens English, perfect diction and exemplary vocabulary, which in the hood translated into a ‘wengist with confusing speech. Furthermore, my mother, being the proper lady she is, taught me to culture pride and dignity whenever I dealt with the male species, which in the hood translated into me being a snob with an attitude problem.

On the other hand, I went to what one could call an uptown school, and here too there was a wee bit of a problem. You see most of the girls who went to the schools which I attented could be classified as rich spoilt brats, but I hailed from an average income family, you could call it middle class, so I didn’t quite fit into the typical elitist group.

So as clearly outlined above there was a conflict of interest. I was stuck between two worlds and couldn’t quite fit in either. But I got through it and grew up, albeit must admit I gravitated kidogo towards the Barbie side of life. My heart however is still in the village and as I look back am greatful for the village experiences which made me who I am today. Those are the experiences that truly formed my Kenyan childhood.

I can honestly and unabashedly say that I am truly Kenyan because I; drank maziwa ya nyayo, fished for tadis in a mtaro, went for dufo mpararo, played games which had all sorts of weird names like kati, bano and kalongo, climbed trees and chased monkeys, ate raw bananas even when my mum told me not too, then suffered a horrible running stomach for two days straight, attempted to smoke papers, raced with cars made out of wires, grew up having my backside whooped thoroughly every time I did something wrong and even when I didn’t in anticipation of me doing something wrong, sang all sorts of weird catchy jingles like “shumakia” and “John kibogoyo” which I cant quite remember nowadays, went to school in bata shoes and at some point in my life wore bata bullets and sandaks, played “brikicho” half my childhood and still have no idea how to spell or pronounce that word, never address anyone older than me by their names but as mama so and so or, baba so and so, auntie or uncle, always use two personal pronouns consecutively e.g. “Me I” or “Us we” or “Them they”, remember VoK when transmission started and 4.00pm and ended at midnight, used to always rushed home after school to watch cartoons like Danger mouse, smurfs, gargoyles, gummy bears, care bears and captain planet.

To cap it all (drum roll please)…… festivities!!! I remember how festivities always came and went with a bang, the biggest shebang of them all being Christmas. LOL!! Christmas!! I get all nostalgic thinking about how Christmas used to be. To begin with all the Nairobians would troop to shags baggage and all to celebrate the occasion with the rest of the family. Yes, Christmas in Kenya has always been a family affair. On the day itself, every Tom Dick and Harry would pull out their Sunday best for the occasion, chapo would be cooked like there was no tomorrow and the chicken! Wololo! There was not a single chicken which slept at ease on 24th because they all sensed the impending doom. All the kids would have the time of their lives chasing the chicken willy-nilly across the compound on Christmas morning until two or three really nice and fat ones had been caught and those would be stewed to perfection to accompany the chapo, pilau, mukimo and whatever else had been cooked. And who can forget the nyama-choma?!! Those delicious roasted ribs and that mutura which you know you can only find in Kenya and nowhere else.

I could go on and on but I guess it will suffice to say that no matter where I go or how westernized my lifestyle becomes these will always be the experiences that I cherish. And am sure most Kenyans reading this are smiling and nodding, their experiences might not be a carbon copy of mine but at some base level they are similar.


Ahem, attention ladies and gentlemen, could those of you with straying minds please report to aisle number one for a dose of ‘get your mind out of the gutter!!’ Sex talk shall come later when I am having coffee and cake at secret recipe with my gurls :-p As far as the title goes I refer to the colourful names given to alcoholic cocktails.

We often joke about these names but it was only sometime back I realised what a powerful marketing tool they are. A friend of mine (I shall give him the cliché pseudonym X) and I were discussing cocktails and he was regaling me with the tale of his first encounter with the ‘blowjob’.
Said friend X and his friends had gone out for their normal Friday night ka-round of drinks, soccer conversation and whatever else men do on their Friday night kamkunjis. Now as it just so happened, that night the bar they went to was having a promotion of the cocktail ‘blowjob’ which X had never heard of before. So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised X was when a curvaceous promotion lady wearing a tightly fitting boob tube and a barely there skirt approached him and offered a blowjob.

According to X the conversation went something like this;

Lady: Would you be interested in a blowjob?
X: (Incredulous look on his face) A what??!!
Lady: A blowjob sir, would you like to get a blowjob?
X: (Marvelling at how pleasantly open-minded women at this establishment were) Urm, sure. Why the hell not....
Lady: Okaaay, that will be 5rand sir, how many would you like?
X: (Gleefully analysing the contents of his wallet) I’ll give you 20rand if you make them good!
Lady: Don’t worry sir, only the best!

Of course X (and urm... X junior) was thoroughly disappointed when he parted with his 20rand and was left with 4 glasses of layered coffee liquor instead of....

But the thing is, the name went a long way in promoting the drink. It goes without saying, that men would naturally not turn down blowjobs or slippery nipples be they sexual or otherwise, and women live vicariously through drinking sex on the beach instead of... err... having it!

The names of these cocktails represent a lifestyle we secretly want to live, and for the most part don’t. No matter how disappointing the contents, we will drink a cocktail because of its fancy name. Women wanting to come off as sophisticated and worldly will gulp down cosmos because it makes them feel like part of the cast of sex and the city. Tourists will generously imbibe bahama mamas, mojitos and tropical teasers because these represent the exotic quality they seek.

As for me..... Hehe! Next time you see me in the club you’ll know my poison!!

Of politrickal matters

Disclaimer: This is a reeeeeeeally long post.... Bite me!

Recent encounters and happenstances in my life have led me to see that my utter abhorrence for Kenyan politics is no excuse for my ignorance about said issue. And so, in a quest to remedy this situation (the ignorance, not the repugnance) I have plodded many an e-mile to acquire knowledge on the subject of Kenyan politics.

Mad props to the likes of M and Ory of, Mars group at, and other such e-doors that I knocked upon (or barged through) that provided insightful, must-know, information that I believe every Kenyan should have access to. And also to the various bloggers, be they serious, satirical, witty or downright hilarious, who also played a role in helping me understand the ins and outs of Kenyan politics.

Thus far (regardless of how pitifully little I know, and how much more I am still learning, and am yet to learn) I am certain of one or two things.....

Number 1:

Dear Mr/ Mrs/ Ms Politrick... pollituc.... politician,

I no longer just hold you in fine disdain; I now do so with justification and reasoning behind my sentiments. And in case of any uncertainty as to what said sentiments are please let me clarify by assuring you that they vary from antipathy to ‘nauseation ‘(yes I had to coin up a word specifically for you, don’t you just feel special now?)

You have been accorded the enormous task of championing the causes of the people, but thus far you consistently proved that your worth in this society can be equated with that of manure without a bio-gas plant. It seems that every time you open your mouth, it you should only be followed by you rapidly sticking your foot into it, otherwise we are forced to endure your inane and vacuous ramblings.

You have consistently proved that robbing public coffers to feed your already bloated belly is not just your forte, but also your life’s ambition. I cringe at the dawn of each new financial year, as the national budget is read and I find out that you have yet again come up with new ways of robbing the wananchi.

I am young, but despite of my naiveté I don’t see how year after year Kenyan roads are paved solely with intentions instead of tarmac, or how hospitals, that are supposed to be places of healing, continue to languish in deplorable conditions, or how, the economy is supposedly rising and yet this is not felt by the 70 something children in a dilapidated class five classroom being taught by an overworked teacher.

Mr politrick.... (urm, refer to salutation as above) I had hoped you would have been redeemed in my eyes as I gained more insight into your world, but sadly, your already low standing continues to sink into the depths of oblivion.

Number 2:

Dear Mr/ Mrs/ Ms Mwananchi,

How long? How long will we continue to flit and skirt in the periphery of the issues that affect us? How long will we keep discussing these injustices in the comforts of homes and bars?

I reiterate, I am young, but even in my naiveté I believe ‘something’s gotta give’. We as a people have to accept our share of the blame. We keep saying how bad politicians are, but weren’t they once just another you or me? At one point I thought we should stop voting for the ilk we have in power now and start voting for better leaders, but where are these to be found? I’ll tell you where they are to be found. Sitting as aforementioned in homes, bars or other institutions discussing how Kenya needs to change but not willing to be a part of the change.

This cycle has to end! Kumekucha!! It is time for each and every one of us to start taking an active role in changing our country. We can’t keep waiting for the Martin Luthers or Mahatma Gandhis to lead us to the mountaintop. We need to start finding out exactly what the roots of our problem are and work towards mending our country. Speak out in whatever capacity you have. One person’s voice can be feeble and unheard, but who can ignore the voice of a whole country?

Soundtrack: Problems – Modenine Ft Chima ( A. S. I just had to use this one!)

Friday, October 24, 2008

Haiya... Kumbe I had a blog!! Whoddathunk??!!!

It’s been a year since I last blogged... YIKES!!! And to think I thought I could actually do this regularly!! Well, another testament to my lacklustre staying power, innit? Nyhuuuu... me no going to be apologetic!! Teeheehee!!

So much has happened between this year and the last that even in summary it could very well be an epic novel! It shall suffice to say, I have grown up a lot, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually et al.

Now moving on to other matters of not-so-national-importance...... I have always wondered what it would have been like to live waaaaaay back when! In the days of the peeps we refer to as our ‘ancestors’, the days described in books like Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, or Rebecca Njau’s The Gourd Seed.

Imagine the simplicity of a life without fast-food, endless traffic jams, music by the likes of 50cent (Yenyewe I really do not like this guy!) mobile communication devices, electricity, twin-towers or the planes that crash into them, ak-47s, factories, nike footwear, trash television (Seriously, E- Entertainment?!?!!)..........

I am a firm believer in the saying “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” yes, development and what we have now is good, but isn’t ignorance akin to bliss? Call me unappreciative of the wonders of modern society, but given a choice I would gladly go back to those days. I’d be there in a jiffy in all my topless glory fetching water from the river, dancing under the moonlight at bonfires, collecting straw to thatch my ka-hut and proving the worth of the beads around my waist.

And yes, I know that even then it was not the perfect life, but in my personal opinion, better the lion you know than the bullet you don’t!!

Ndawo Yami - Zamajobe Sithole