echawawa

2006-04-10T05:17:00.000-07:00

I had read a very interesting article on African Bullets' s site regarding advice being given to a newbie coming to college.
I then sought out an old email a friend had given me which was informative, hilarious and vile.

I had it up briefly but have done away with it.
To condemn evil is to do in all its forms.

My mistake.

Karen.

2006-03-27T07:07:00.000-08:00

I am in one of the sentimental moods this morning perhaps it is simply the day outside. It is shining and pretty soon it will paradise here on earth again.
Flowers blooming, birds seeing, deers peeking in and messing up flowerbeds, kids playing outside.My afternoon jogs will soon be a pleasure and not a drag.
I guess change in seasons bring with them a certain expectation of hope.
The rejuvenation of nature or it is simply that the days are less grey and much brighter.
I don't know what it is really but it makes me so nostalgic.
I remember the fields that used to behind our house that would spur with the wildest flowers of different colors and how we run through them as kids.
Could come from school dump my bag and join my gals in a good chasing.
Back then when life even though I didn't appreciate it much made awhole lot of sense.
I was more honest then that I am now.
I had a sense of clarity which strangely seems to elude me in my older years.
So what is ol Karen rumbling about today.
Well a run in with a friend from those uncomplicated days had me thinking this morning.
How our actions and words affect people.
Now am not the nicest person, but this girl made me feel like something when she remembered my face came up to me and gave me the warmest hug.
Offcourse I was like okay this is one of those Judas moments I mean whichever nemesis is upto this that really had it on lock.
Shoot me in an open mall.
But, my sins were rested when this beautiful girl about my age stood back and said it is me(name censored) I was taken aback. Then she went on to say to her parents as she later introduced me to as the "girl who was her only friend in school". To which the couple gave me a handshakes and loads of thank yous.
It all came flooding to me now who this girl was.
Back in school she was the most quiet girl in the room.
Everyone picked on her and for some strange reason with all my sins that is one thing I never did quite take a liking to.
So, to stir up drama like I loved doing I became her friend. Picked her in all games that earned me the "why Karen, if we lose it is your fault " I loved it just to annoy people off. To be honest at first I did it because it made my friends mad then later I came to like this girl until she left for what I deemed a step up in prestige back in the days for Hillcrest. I missed her lots and slowly by slowly her image began to fade, but when I saw her again it all came back.

My friend and after all this years she remembered me and was thanking me for what I really didn't think I did. So, after the intial pleasantries we exchanged numbers to find that we have been living like 10 mins from each other, work in the same complex but for different companies.
My friend is back.

I guess kindness does pay off especially when you least expect it to. On the day when I was feeling like the real queen B someone came up to and a simple thank you made me feel like something again.

Who knew? I guess goodness does come back in away and most times it might just rescue one from their depths of lowly.
So go ahead and be kind today you never know that kind word or deed might pay off in a big way.

My friend is back.

Disappointments.

2006-03-26T18:30:00.000-08:00

I really don't know which news to break first.

That the discovery channel has the " for real, for real survivor series" or that I braved it and watched the constant gardner?

Well, if you have ever had a chance to see overpampered individuals get thrown into a boondock and asked to live with nothing but real slugs, worms and slamming each other then you must have been one of the many who were awed by survivor, but today I tell that I have found something that makes survivor look like child's play.

Imagine you are a civilised westerner who decides to take a leisurely flight over the african jungle to scout your next big exploit or simply to relax.
Then the worst happens you become a victim of one of the many calamities that follow those like you in Africa. You crush into an African bush.
What would you do?
What would be worse the savages or the wrath of the savagenation?
The discovery channel will be airing the story of one man who survived it.
This folks is the latest comedy series from the discovery channel. Here I was thinking they were all about serious stuff.

Then offcourse I braved the odds and watched the constant gardener. I figured Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz have earned a reputation in my books of being the few worthy actors whose work I support.
Then there are the rave reviews from friends "watch it am telling you Karen it is deep, watch it", and again I take my buddy's opinion seriously she is the one who told me about "crash" which was in every sense of the word an amazing movie. She also told me that ,"Sometimes in April" was more potent than "Hotel Rwanda" she was right . To cut the rumble short this is someone who movie choices I respect.

However, the constant gardner was a wrong prediction. It carried with it the self righteousness that Hollywood is oh so full off never to disappoint offcourse. A fresh faced, pretty and priviledged young Brit gal comes to Africa with her diplomat husband who lets her dance around with miroz in Kibera and stick around some young miro dude who they crash state parties together with. As if such a relationship wouldn't bother any husband.
She has to be the one to break the story of how pharmaceuticals test medicines on Africans before to hasten their marketing in the west.
Are you kidding me?
How many African villages will you hear stories of some strange white man who came giving away sugar and milk if only you let him inject you and accept to go see him periodically?
Then after awhile he disappears.

That is such old news in Africa we don't even talk about it.

Who didn't read the stories in the Standard newspaper about the people who have been paralysed by the medications they were being fed?

With all its high and mighty self righteousness the movie comes to a disappointing halt, the young miss is hacked and offcourse we are left wondering if ever the pharmaceuticals programs ended ?
The only one who got some relief was the Ralph Fiennes who found out that his wife's buddy was no threat to him as he was gay.
That seemed to be the only point of relief or clarity in the movie.
Everything else was baseless and in the air.

There is no way the west will stop its exploitation of our people if our gorvernments and we act as we are depicted in that movie.
A bunch of children in grown up clothes dancing our hearts out to entertain the whites in our midst.
I would dare anyone to point to a moment where people in hell dance.
Because that is what the slum Kibera is.
It is hell on earth.
Who in there right minds is content with that kind of life?
Why is there such a need to show the world that Africans are content with their hardships?
Always waiting with their hands a begging?
Whose backs do you think those cheap slob boers that this misfit of a gorvernment hires backs ride on?
The real Africans who are convieniently left out of the picture.
No, Hollywood can't be caught dead showing that just like they westerners we too strive despite the challenges to make ends meet.
Children are educated. People make ends meet. Despite the hardships life does go on.
How many people even in that Kibera shown in that movie sit with their hands out waiting for a Rachel Weisz to come dancing?
Many are often trekking from their industrial area jobs , where there are pay paltry wages and somehow still they struggle and run a country whose govt has the audacity to hire misfits to come and take away their right to information.

The constant gardener like every other western flick is just that.
Sanctimonious at best. Pretentious and will make only the gullible find some serious issue lurking in what has been the usual image the west has kept of Africa.
The overgrown child that will never find his way home.

GO, GO STANDARD,

2006-03-02T06:39:00.000-08:00

"When you rattle a snake, you must be ready to be bitten," democratic words of wisdom from Kibkai's own Michuki who thinks that he can control the Kenyan media like he does his household.

Mine is the profound effect Kenya govt's iron handedness means for the media in our country.
What it takes away from journalism and what it means to Kenyan journalists who may have a dissenting view from the gorvernment ?
What it means when the govt of a nation doesn't follow the same channels of law and instead results to senseless intimidation and vandalism.
What are the far reaching repercussions of what the Kenya govt has just done to the Standard newspaper?
Does it mean that we are retrogressing back to the days that the ones in this current govt once described as "dark days in the media" referring to Moi's adminstration censorship of the media.

Contrary to Michuki's sully comments there is no pride in govt sanctioned violence hence his arrogant comments speak volumes of just exactly where the Kenya gorvernment stands when it comes to the rights of the Kenyan citizen.

It is indeed clear from the way the gorvernment handles everything from corruption to now going headon to intimidate people that it is time for you and I who feel that the limits of enough have been pushed and gone beyond to stand up and be counted.
That indeed our country is headed on a downward spiral that will be if anything costly.

However, myself I read the standard everyday, all the time and will continue to do so.
No govt intimidation will stop that or dictate to me what I will and not read.
Am a free citizen in my country.
It is my right as a Kenyan citizen to make that choice for myself.
I will choose what to believe and not to believe that will my decision and not Kibaki's govt.

Lastly, some raw nerve in statehouse must really have been sliced to sent the rattled snake out a bitting.

Go, go standard. Go, go standard.

back

2006-02-27T06:56:00.000-08:00

happy new year comrades.

ORANGE COUNTRY

2005-11-22T05:59:00.000-08:00

So, the people have spoken.

We are an orange eating, gnashing, grinding and wallowing nation.

Apart from the obvious that wehave again wasted time and money that we the common people do not have and that Raila and Musyoka are political heavyweights after all.

Am clamouring in the midst of all this wondering why I should go out and celebrate an orange win.

What is in it for me or in other words the common Kenyan man out there?

Will after today Kenya automatically fall on the path of a full blown economic, political and social recovery?

By tomorrow after a day of drinking and gloating over the banana republic supporters we will realise that either way the winner in all this are the politicians with Kibaki being the biggest winner of them all.

You and I the biggest losers.

Then the realisation that it was never really in the constitution, but rather in our attitude as a nation and the responsibility we once again must accept for the failure that is our govt and as a direct consequence the decline of our lifestyles as well.

The irony of it all.

love..........

2005-11-15T09:11:00.000-08:00

So, here I am again caught up in one of my many sticky situations.
This time my brother will really kill me.
It has everything to do with his friend.
For years my brother's best friend since I can remember has been the apple of my eye, but my brother has made it very clear that I should file that in ..........."it will never happen in this lifetime.".
Therefore after deep introspection I decided to heck with it and set out firm and sure for my goal.

I don't know if I have just been seeing his best bud through loveheart eyes, but I can name the many times he has saved my sorry behind from the many messes I get stuck in.

Since back in the day when we were neigbhors and my brother was all touchy feely about me going into his room or following him around he(my bro's best bud) used to ask if good ol Karen was coming.
It used to hike my bro's blood pressure to dangerous levels but he gave in anyway.
I can remember all the gifts he has given me for my birthdays even when my brother had this darn "ati leo is your birthday Karen wacha ........." translation" I got you what I get you every year nothing".
Anyways even to this day he is still so thoughtful and kind towards me.
I tried to have a heart to heart talk with a friend who reminded me of the glaring facts.
1. He was an only child so am like his adopted sister (ouch).
2. It has been years and he has not made a move though he has 2 steady girlfriends and is now single like me , .
3. It is all in my imagination.

When I put on my workglasses my best bud is almost making the most sense, but it doesn't explain how me and him were hanging out this summer when my bro was busy racking in the overtime.
The talks, walks and movies.

Now I have a brother and he really doesn't like spending some much time with me and when he does that is a dark omen. I take it that is the norm with every sister who has a Frankenstein for a bro?

Last weekend I was rather down and he came over my brother wasn't there and really did cheer me up.
Last Sunday he asked me out for dinner...........my brother doesn't know it yet and my best bud thinks it is just one of those big bro and small sis spend time together moments.
Am at a loss here because I have it big for my brother's friend and somehow I think he feels the very same way.

Africa burning

2005-11-15T08:47:00.000-08:00

Riots in Uganda.

Political tension in Kenya.

Current blood shedding in the Ivory Coast .

Violence in Ethiopia.

Racial cleansing of dark Sudanese by Arabs in Sudan.

What exactly is new? this are simply "normal current events in Africa".
Not to mention the 1000 per minute death rate to HIV/AIDS alone.

Indeed we are a continent that are destined to die if not by a fellow opponent's bullet or machete then a lethal virus will put an end to our own lives or a loved ones.

Ours is indeed a pathetic existence.

So, when all aplomb and applause went out for Liberia why was there a sickly feeling in my stomach.

I mean there she stood dubbed "iron lady" and by all means an African woman since Winnie Mandela to have such political clout.
She is Liberia and Africa's first ever female president.

She is well educated and comes with years of experience working for the agents of Africa's current economic crash the legal exploitation institutions of IMF and Worldbank.
This two institutions have mastered the art of punishing millions of Africans for the shortfalls of the western chosen leaders under their world famous SAP programs.

My problem with Liberia's president has nothing to do with her educational background, political history but her association with this two bodies whose policies are obviously pro-exploitative debt repayment and anti- African development.
My cautious attitude towards Sirleaf comes from years of experience as Kenyan citizen who has seen fully well the implications of replacing a problem with the same problem but changing the name.
Is it any wonder Kenya is in shambles?

A part of me is aware of the dangers of assumptions and hence arriving to my conclusions that Sirleaf is already guilty by association.
Am also aware of Liberia's neighbors one being the oil rich Guinea and how there are many interests that would like abit of that part of Africa's coast.
Perhaps even set up military bases like the Italians decided to drop a big brother device in Malindi under the guise of the world's latest phenomena terrorism.
Hence the evidence is overwhelming and my personal stance on this matter remains Sirleaf is yet another big mistake Africa has just made.

As a Kenyan I have learnt from the best Kenyatta's govt had Moi and Kibaki in it.
Then Moi's govt had Kibaki in it.
Then Kibaki 's govt is here repeating and outdoing the evils of the past adminstrations.

History has just repeated itself in Liberia.
I can see many more Pat Robertson moments where prayer and mining go hand in hand.

What a tragedy.

2005-10-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

I love reading poems, but never seem to write them well enough so I prefer verses and this is one for days like this one

Am making way in this deep jungle longtime
I had a friend that walked and encouraged me.
Somewhere in the middle of this struggle.
I think I lost you and you me.
Perhaps there are things about me you often
doubted that have you believe me to be
what it is you think of me today.
I was your light once, but now you tell me
often of how you wish to drift farther away from me.
How does love turn into such hate and distrust?
Would it help if I told you that life has a way
of making liars out of us?
Would it help if I told you that my thoughts
are with you ever other second?
Am remembering yesterday and in a funny
way maybe it is the only way I can get through
tonight to tomorrow I see visions of tomorrows
of full of life.
Laughing again.
Trusting again.
A chance to ammend the promises
that not of my own wish I have had to
break.
I need to believe that, because my heart
can't let go of what once was.
I was light remember?
I was your life remember?
I was the one you sacrificed your life for
remember?
I was your all and you will always be
my all.
Even if today the very thought of me
repulses you.
Even though today your trust for
is that you could have for a thief in the night.
Even though today am your darkness.
And you only think of me in the
shadows of the sun's setting.
You remain my light, my life, my all.
If you go away my last breath and strength
will be spent searching for you.
Just like my whole life now will be
spend toiling to harvest blessings of
your trust.
There are no words for this pain
am feeling and no end to this streaming
tears.
Even though am drowning in sorrow
's pit and clinging on to yesterdays
Am praying feverishly for tomorrows
hoping that when this storm is over
this ship we sail in might sail safely to
shore broken, bruised, but together.
Please let me have your hand.

MY JANET.

2005-10-28T07:37:00.000-07:00

Why am I not suprised that some low life wanna-be artist is on all shows HOT 97 spreading rumours to promote his album. Yes, young DeBarge might want to be a singer, but is taking the wrong approach towards selling his album. First of all whose business is it that Janet Jackson has a child?
Why do some of this idle octagenarians in the media think that everyone is to their empty gossip ossy nature?
Janet is an entertainer first and then she is also a private citizen. She is entitled to her own life and even if she has a daughter that is really her personal business.

I wonder what the media has against Janet if it wasn't the frenzy they made over Justin Timberlake pulling her boob and exposing it at superbowl am left wondering at the hypocrisy that many in this world continue to display.
The very "concerned" parents' should once in awhile flick back and watch what channels like MTV's spring break is all about or worse yet "girls gone crazy" then talk about double standards.

Worldover this selective amnesia that is slowly looming under the guise of conservatism is setting a dangerous precedence where certain evils are okay and some are unacceptable.
Am I saying what Janet and Justin was right? Hell no am just suprised that people act suprised when they see the consequences of what a over sexualised society is all about.
Everything is about sex , because sex sells. In the end we all know it has nothing to do with the morality of the young or of society, but rather how much money one can cash from it.
Hence young DeBarge thinks this marketplace rumour of his will earn his record a spot on the billboard's top 10.
It can only show how little he know of the world he lives in and what to venture into.

I like Janet Jackson and always will.
I think she is a talented musician and will forever treasure her 1867 album it was a masterpiece.

What the media thinks of her is most irrelevant anyone who knows the media well will understand once again there is someone somewhere trying to tag down Janet and is relentless.
With all her faults just like mine am reminded that she is yes an entertainer but also a human being hence it won't change a thing for me if she has a daughter or not.
In my opinion that is her business and it should well be left alone.

On the other hand if this young DeBarge is anything like his brothers he might have just put his record out there and let the record sales speak for themselves, but since they say in kiswahili.......
Chema chajiuza kibaya chajitembeza( a good thing sells itself a bad thing peddles itself) ..........you don't need a Masters in Physics to figure what kind of musician he is.

A great weekend.

Thought of the week.

2005-10-26T07:54:00.000-07:00

Word on the street is Sir Murungaru can't even make up for his nostalgic craving for England in the English inspired suburbs of Connecticut the Americans have "coped " that too.

Hmmmmmmmm.........once again at least we the common and suffering many in Kenya can take comfort in knowing that at least the Americans can let us into the gates of their embassy before their visa officers hurl us out with insults.
Well who knew that the common man could have a fighting chance against a Kenyan powerhouse like the great Sir Murungaru.
Never say never people.

The UN has released one of its many "ah duh" studies about brain drain in Kenya being at 40%.
The truth of the matter is before patriotism there comes reality which means bills and dreams are a constant in every progressive being's mind.
When few people hijack our countries our human instinct is to seek out places where we can lay root try to survive and have a fighting chance too.
This shouldn't be exactly rocket science for the United Nations think of all the young Kenyans who are shining abroad eg Senator Barack Obama do you think someone like him would have ever had a fighting chance in a country that is now clear belongs to you if your last name is Moi, Odinga , Kibaki , Kenyatta etc ?
Am Kenyan by birth, but am not Kenyan when it comes to my hopes and dreams.
I have wished and prayed for that, but I don't have the right name, the ambition to feed off the sweat of others among other things that qualify one to be Kenyan.
Am neither .
This is not the country of my grandfathers' dreams.
This is a country of Kenyatta, Moi and Kibaki's thugs who have rendered the rest of us refugees in our country.
Who have built empires on the brow of our sweat.
The rest of us exist on the fringe of their society.
Paying heavily for their crimes and dying slowly for their ailments.

Why does common sense always sound so complicated?

Good week people.

One for Jeff

2005-09-21T18:02:00.000-07:00

My friend will probably stake me herself for saying this but am I the only Kenyan/African not offended by Jeff Koinange's appearance on CNN.

Well, to be perfectly honestly I have to say I don't think Jeff Koinange is sitting up late, tossing and turning over how Africans /Kenyans view him and whether it is racist of CNN to take him first of all miro to a devastated area while all other "caucasian" reporters with exception of Soledad are kept at airports and nearby save havens.

Quite frankly I don't see the beef with this but again I could be one of those miros that haven't yet gotten it my friend on the other hand argues the sense of flying Jeff all the way from Nigeria to New Orleans to report on the plight of devastated black people. Her arguement is to some extent valid, but still I think that Jeff Koinange, Soledad O'Brien and CNN have done and continue to do an excellent job in exposing to the world what it means to be a black and impoverished in the world richest nation.
If it was not for the extensive coverage this story would have probably gone unnoticed.

In this case I think the good far outweighs the evil.

Hence my congrats to a fellow countryman for doing what I think was an excellent job.

Way to go Jeff.

End the political circus

2005-09-21T17:30:00.000-07:00

The excitement over bananas and oranges seems to baffle me.

Offcourse my opinion on the current constitution was and remains that it should have been ammended as needed as it is no secret society and times are dynamic. It did not need an expensive exercise and a political circus to change it.
It seems that like Kenyans did when they voted this current band of robbers (Narc) into govt they believed every lie and tale they were told.
And am proud to say that 3 years and counting none of the promises made have been realised.
Instead Kenyans have witnessed what they thought had seen their demise in the days of Mo1 sexual scandals, looting of public coffers etc, tax payer funded holidays, drop in quality of life etc etc however it seems that each adminstration from Kenyatta's time wants to outdo the other in who will loot the most and increase kenyans poverty level even further.
For that goal I want to personally give props to the current govt they were not to be outdone I can only imagine the state we will be in 2007.

I would think that with our current experiences has come a certain level of maturity in what is expected of us as voters and responsible citizens of our country.

Instead of tosssing oranges and slipping on banana peels as if this will determine our lives without the simple understanding that it doesn't matter how good a constitution is if it isn't implemented than it is as good as having none.
The constitution dear Kenyans who are caught up in the wrangle and tough choices of will we be an orange state or banana republic will not make us economically viable citizens.

The politicians are happy to have you further their selfish ends because either way they win.

You and I are the biggest losers in all this.

Why instead of brandishing oranges and bananas at each other, bickering and carrying meaningless slogans don't we for once introduce what should be the focal point of our national debate the poverty that has rendered us able bodied men and women beggars in our own country.

What of your next meal?
What of your HIV retroviral cocktail?
What of your employment or business entrepreneurship?
What of your own and family's security?
What of your children's future?
What of your children's education?
What of Kenyan ability to compete in tech industry?
What of Kenya's R&D industry?

Why is common sense so far gone from us when it is clear in this war of bulls we the poor grass get trampled and killed all the time?

What of our responsibility not just to ourselves but our country ?

Perhaps Charles Dickens in his book Hard times sums my wonder at our gullibility as Kenyans in his own amazement of how a slob like Slackbridge gets the attention of men/women.

(It is lengthy but do bear)

........."As he stood there, trying to quench his fiery face with his drink of water, the comparision between the orator and the crowd of attentive faces turned towards him was extremely to his disadvantage. Judging him by Nature's evidence, he was above the mass in very little but the stage on which he stood. In many great respects he was essentially below them. He was not so honest, he was not so manly, he was not so good-humored;he substituted cunning for their simplicity, and passion for their safe solid sense. An ill-made, high shouldered man with lowering brows and his features crushed into an habitually sour expression, he contrasted most unfavourably, even in his mongrel dress, with the great body of his hearers in their plain working clothes. Strange as it always is to consider any assembly in the act of submissively resigning itself to the dreariness of some complacent person, lord or commoner whom three-fourths of it could, by no means, raise out of the slough of inanity of their own intellectual level, it was particularly affecting, to see this crowd of earnest faces, whose honesty in the main no competent observer free from bias could doubt, so agitated by a such a leader".

Years later I look at my people fooled by the likes of the typical greed-driven Kenyan politician and the energy wasted on agendas that benefit only the politician.
I guess it is true history will keep repeating itself and human beings will continue to err as they lack foresight to look back and see where many who did exactly what they are doing stumbled.
This is the tragedy of a sleeping giant as great yet powerless as Africa.

94 in New York : a Kenyan tax payer's cry

2005-09-18T06:22:00.000-07:00

New York, New York
they tax my pennies
to come to the heart of your core.
Not one , not two, but all ninety -four.
For what it is I do not know
All I know is this my brow is broke and my
coffers gone.

What oh why do all 94 have to go?
my poor heart wonders so?
Will they talk about a break for my
now broken brow?
A hope for my children?
A chance or opportunity
or is it like it always is
I work they take and yet
they come begging your rich for more?

Posing as beggars while they fill
there coffers.
Claiming it is for us.
For us?
Do they mean those like me?
Blessed with arms and feet ?
Mind that is sound and fit?
Or perhaps they speak for them
those 94 in New York?
Fat and plump
squishing in clothing that are now too small to fit.
Plenty they have yet they come dressed like
Kings yet speaking like beggars.

We need..... those 94 will say.
We can't........ those 94 will claim.
Without aid......... those 94 will paint
the grimmest of pictures of the
sorrow they themselves have accorded their own.
Those 94 in New York.

Those that I love to loathe.
Their treachery worse than an enemy's stab.
Their malice worse than a killer's jab
Their lies worse than a viper's venom
and a scorpion's sting.
How easy it is to strip your own bear
and cry your people naked?
Yet everyday many like those
94 in New York do that to us
in Afrika
How easy they have tarnished our image, our race
that among eyes of all men we are images to
be pitied
Images that arouse guilt and anger in some.
Images that justify what was once our bondage
How do men do this to their own kind
and live with themselves?
Those 94 in New York do not stand alone
they have many like them that follow right along

New York, New York
they tax my pennies to come the
heart of your core
Not one, not two , but all ninety-four
For what it is I do not know.
All I know is this my brow is broke and
my coffers gone.

Those 94 in New York.

By Karen .......M

Ranting

2005-09-03T20:10:00.000-07:00

What is in a voice?

What is in an action?

I speak for myself when I say that when the hacking was taking place in Rwanda life for me would never have been sweeter and when I heard of what happened strangely I was unaffected.Perhaps this lack of sensitivity can be traced to all those days I saw young South African children run from the then apartheid govt's soldiers' bullets and dogs.
It bothered me at first and then it became common place had me convinced that things like this happen to others and never to people like me.
Then there was Haiti.
Then there was the bombing in Nairobi and the shock of how it happened here and not over there.
My world slowly had began to crumble and today my glass covering has shattered.
I look at the images of people wading in water the victims of poverty and race.
I hear of the politicians and there usual bickering and I have promised myself that I don't want to stand back anymore.
What is in my voice?
The power to denounce what for years I have simply been to scared to notice. To give suffering a voice .
What is in my action?
A helping hand never again do I want to sit back and watch.
Point fingers and blame.
That world I knew no longer exists. Yes the world can turn tables against you it takes just a second and one's world is turned upside down.
This time a storm so violent that didn't take 100 days of tyranny but simply afew hours and with a name so mild it has caused and stirred such unspeakable suffering.
It could be a case of water, perhaps even some $5 or an old sweater.
Whatever it is let us for once as black people begin to assume the leadership we hope to see among our leaders.
We are our own leaders and be it Katrina or Rwanda where a human spirit is broken let us reach out in whatever way we can.
Be the model of the leader who hope you had.

Humphffy

2005-09-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

The holiday season is here finally....................just the other day I was off to my little "me time read vacation and now we are thinking about the dreaded christmas dinner.
For me the holidays are often festive events where certain family members who seem to ever do so well get to once again narrate their goodwill at the expense of some like myself who to cut the story short have a very uneventful life which I really do prefer it that way. I am the kind of person who says hey no news is good news right?
With gas prices hitting the $5 mark lucky me I will start riding my bike to work effective tomorrow.
Offcourse back home in Kenya we don't have Katrina to blame and for the first time despite all attempts to link conduct to the gas prices I have failed to come up with a credible story so this time I know it but like the rest of us in the free world am keeping my trap shut.

On the other hand this is indeed a blessing in disguise because am supposed to attend a certain family function held by certain family members whose blood and mine well seem to corrode the veins every time we meet.
So, offcourse I would love to come, but you know the gas and..............(I will think of a story later ).
Anyways this Christmas am afraid I will be the poor aging lass as the last of my cousins in my age bracket are whisked off to matrimonial bliss.
The wedding has been so planned that me behind will have no excuse but to attend am one of those who will prim , smile and pose with the bride. I want my dress to outdo hers but seeing that the bride mother is also another eternal nemesis of mine I already got strict orders not to think of doing anything drastic that will ruin the day.
Not to worry folks the only thing I think will be worth mentioning to my aunt who is already driving me to drink is the dreaded D word and how most marriages in this time and age unfortunately are headed that way.

So, already just like the news was dropped for everyone to hurdle around the bride and then the barrage of "Karen what about you?, you are not getting any younger? we want to see our grandchildren before you go(this one is a hopeful thought though how about I give them an incentive to go hmmmmmmm..........am thinking I will take 2 of my aunts on that offer as long as the test tube baby is delivered they each swallow the death pill and let the rest of us trudge through life in peace.
Already am dreading the holidays.
Someone's hands will be constantly dropping due to the weighty rock while the other's ears will be burning from hearing all the stories about women my age and how our chances are close to never as we approach the big 3 0.
Offcourse am no spring chicken, but am not going to do something because of some flimsy reason such as pressure from the family.
An aunt of mine has gone to lenghts to plan countless blind dates with young men she considers potential mates, but alas to her horror things didn't work out.
Infact I had to tell her that all 4 of them were not at par with me in bed something which my mother is having such a time dealing with and sure as hell heard about it.

I mean Mother please give me some credit lol.
Sometimes I say things to my aunts to annoy them, because they are relentless when it comes to making my life a living misery.
Now that all of them have my age mate cousin married they turn their idleness to minding my life.
Worrying about things that to be honest never make me lose any sleep.
Now do I want to get married?
Hell yah.
But, I draw the line to my aunts' choices and their dramatic scenarios at how men will be running away from me when I turn 30.
I hear they hate old women, but like I told one of my aunts recently if there is anything I have learnt from Wambui Otieno is never say never.
The number of young idle men is increasing by the minute.
Young men nowadays are the real gold diggers.
So why marry(offcourse am only joking.)

Like every good girl out there (hehehheeh) I hope to meet a good man he doesn't have to be perfect cause heck am not, but respectful and willing to see the marriage thing through then we will be alright.
Because, to me the idea of marriage and family are perhaps the most sacred of experiences.
To be wife and mother I would love, but am not desperate either if it should happen at 80 and am toothless and there he is at 89 and toothless the only romantic thing is to brush our dentures together while we take turns using our oxgen tanks then so be it.
When I say I do it will be till death do us part.

Till then I ask the heavens for courage as I face the battle this coming christmas season during dinner.
May I intercept the missiles thrown at me successfully and may my operation save Karen be one to shock and awe my dear family as they all sit around feeling sorry for me.

Have a peaceful week and my heart goes out to all the victims of Katrina once again color and poverty come before human dignity this remains man's greatest tragedy his own prejudice.
God's peace.

THE BULLFIGHT, THE PRIZE AND THE POOR GRASS CAUGHT IN BETWEEN.........

2005-08-21T13:06:00.000-07:00

The current identity crisis that Sir Murungaru (originally of good ol England) is reaching alarming levels.
He is even beginning to reclaim some lost memories.
So, this weekend still fuming at the decision of his fellow Englishmen banning him from going home he decided to run to the poor Africans who have been reduced to squatters in their ancestral lands and told them that it is time for this settlers to live and wrong for people to own "huge chunks of land" in a country where people are practically homeless like they are.

Offcourse Sir Murungaru has been a resident of this area for years and has always been a man with powerful friends and a platform to air serious grievances such as this.
One wonders what has inspired Sir Murungaru's thoughtfulness perhaps he has fantasies of clobbering the white settlers and asking Raila to send in bulldozers to raze down their homes everytime he turns on the TV and sees the going ons in the Middle East .
Why else is this reality suddenly a moral burden?
For how long have this people been living in this deplorable state?
Am sure until that letter banning him from him motherland Britain arrived it was still to him an acceptable way for people to live right?
Or maybe he like many of us suffers from stacoma where we block out reality until the bricks come tumbling down.

Or could it be that he is thinking that this is the way he will get back at the British for revoking his visa?
Once again riding the backs of poor Kenyans who have been devastated by men like him to this pathetic state of living on once again fight his dirty battles for him?

I also think it is wrong that all Kenyan first families present one included own huge chunks of land to a point that Kanu's knight in shining armor was willing to "give back" some land in the coast province?

So, what exactly is this devious Sir Murungaru upto?

Perhaps he thinks that Kenyans are throwing tantrums over what is a losing battle.
How dare he think he can spit on the same hand that feeds him?
Who is he kidding that suddenly he sees a wrong?
Where has he been all this years ?

Why do this useless leaders think us so foolish a people?
Is it not enough that they have built empires on our backs and continue to do so?
Is it not enough that our docility has accustomed some of them lives they could only dream of?
Is it not enough that we are so broken that finally their dreams of us serving them and their children will be realised for years to come?
What more do they want our blood?
What does Murungaru think his latest act of mockery is going to spur among squatters?
rage ? pity? perhaps they might copy what is happening in gaza and whip the white settlers out?

The kind of disrespect this leaders have towards us is amazing.
You Mr Murungaru should fight your war with the British the way you pack their rewards ALONE.
Don't think us so stupid that the British are mad at you because you foiled their plans to buy 2 big banks ?
Tell that to someone foolish enough to believe that.
What you are now saving only 2 banks while the rest of Kenya has been mortaged in the spirit of market liberalisation if it is not owned by some westerner then it is one of you in govt or your friends who are swathing in its returns.
When are done begging for our "poor Kenya" the money that comes doesn't go beyond your stomachs.
Yet you have the audacity to try and make us think you care that we are squatters.

The British are your friends.
They feed you and your fat friends.
They give you money to look after their investments and this time you failed that Sir is the problem and my opinion to which am entitled.
Play your games but careful not to stray into mockery our being squatters in our ancestral land is nothing we laugh or talk about.

BULL SHYT!

2005-08-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

This is how a country moves forward out of the CEOs who spent their days swiping their protruding tummies on everything they pass half of them are actually expatriates.

Offcourse it is easy to blame the expatriate who hails from some cube in some western country.
Who until he was an expatriate used to dream of the kind of life he is leaving if he nailed some desperate sex crazed wealth overwhelmed woman.
However, he cast his dice and hit nice he got to be among the lucky few who go to over see the ongoing exploitation of Africa's resources under the guise of being an expatriate. Meaning in the entire African country that his behind will land he is the only one who can carry out that role hence foolish govts like the Kenyan one(whose members are currently suffering from an identity crisis entitled ,"THE NEW ENGLISHMAN:THE KENYAN NEGRO") will move heaven and earth chop salaries from deserving public servants and parlay it before the expatriate offering him a life he could only have dream of.
In his new home he is a King.
He need look no further for evidence of proof of this but simply see how even the President the most powerful person in that African jungle stumbles over himself just to shake his hand.
In his heart he is often amused he knows himself he is a nobody and suddenly in this place called Africa he can be King.
But wait he is King.
He is driving the latest Mercedes benz model and not to mention the BMW that will be arriving next week.
He lives in a palace laced with all the amenities that make life not just bearable but pleasurable to leave, his XXXXL bed and all the fun he will have with the young African girls looking for a ticket out of what was once their country.
He has servants who bow and smile broadly like his grandfather used to tell him negroes used to do before spoilers like NAACP, Martin Luther King came in and changed the way things are done. His servants amuse him they go out of their way to make him overcomfortable ......Sir you wanti milki or jewice" they ask in their pathetic African accents.
He simply waves them away and before long another one will come and ask ......Sir for runch you want reg of ramb olo you ale still going out for runch?
Not now Kimani he says with a sense of boredom.
When he looks at his expansive gardens he can only wonder thinking how afew days ago the closest he ever came to nature was the dying plant in his room.
Now he has beautiful gardens and gardeners to tend to them.
He has luxury cars, shows up to work for 2 hours and spends the rest of the day golfing hooking up with desperate college girls and thinking of how he can get Amy to come and join him.
She often thought him a loser, but he was just about to prove her wrong he had made something of himself out of nothing.
He loves how police back off from him the minute they stop him for some violation and realise he is a white man........Haya bwana kubwa endelea mbele pole kwa kusumbuwa.
He wishes his father was here so that he could wave his middle finger in his face all those years of thinking him to be a nobody and calling him names well here he is a CEO and under him were people like his father college graduates with paper to show they actually went for some training to be there while someone like him did zilch never saw a college classroom in his life, but here he was. THE BOSS. The one who took home the cake while the rest fed on the crumbs.
He is the boss and under him are 4 young Kenyan men actually his agemates (see his company is the hip type to work for) all of them college graduates and he their boss. He resents them as much as he knows they resent him but you would never know it if you saw the fake camaderie between them.
They golfed together and sometimes even shared the same women yet if he had a knife he would stab them fast and knew that they wouldn't hesitate doing the same to him.
He hates the younger crowd their is a strangeness about them he can't really make out what it is but for some reason when he is around the younger crowd he can't almost help but feel afraid.
While when he is with the older generation he is at home.
They revere him.
And for simply being a skin tone lighter they reward him with a salary of about ksh 2.2 M and if you doubt read the paper and see the mad benefits that come with his job the only other way you can have it this nice if you are a pitch black is become a Member of Parliament in Kenya then life is party for you too.

And the self destruction of the African continues.

My application

2005-08-05T17:25:00.000-07:00

The following questions and benefits are courtesy of Thinker's room I thought them hilarious and decided to apply for the job .
The answers for the job application are unfortunately mine.

Job Openings
Are you a stupid schmuck?
Yes

Are you so dense that light bends around your head?
Hiyo sijasikia bado

Do you have a chronic allergy to exertion? Do you develop violent allergic reactions to a honest day's work?
I have suffered from chronic fatigue syndrome for years. The thought of work has in the past caused me great mental and physical anguish.
Are you a consummate liar?
Hehehehehe........aiiiiiiiii am an honest fellow you know truth is relative. It is always eh.....eh........eh(grinning in a sly manner) eh a tale of two sides like the book by charles twain a tale of two sides.

Do you have the intelligence of a half witted hen?
Nikijibu Yes hapa si hiyo nikujinyonga ama?

Can you at least write the initials of your name, and read them?
Personally, I use my inked thumb to sign you know no two thumbs are quite alike then again it saves more time.

Do you think that Robin Hood was out of his mind, stealing from the rich to feed the poor when he instead should have been stealing from everyone to feed himself?
Robin Hood the one who used to wear skirts like women? Aaahhhhhhhh huyo ni mtu kweli hehehehe Huyo Robin hood Bure kabisa huyo bure kabisa.
The govt works very hard in poverty increment programs that I can't believe someone like that even existed shenzi mbuzi kabisa.
Can you imagine if he kept all that loot for himself. As for me am hustler homie

Can you say the phrase "It wasn't me" believably even if there is video evidence to the contrary?

That is nothing how many people out there look like me? Can the video really prove that kafellow is me? Lol ati video like people videos too disappear.
Are you a team player? Will you let your colleagues eat from the public coffers in peace?

It depends on what aspect of a team you are talking about. If is it things like getting some constructive things done then am not your catch. But if it means standing up for a friend whose British visa has been revoked or simply using my account to divert rural development projects before we carry it to some perfect shore account am your pick.

Do you believe that all your problems are caused because "Money has been poured to finish you"

Money can never finish someone it is people who finish money. That is why you can never accumulate enough money no matter how hard you try. There is always the need for more.

Are you unable to have a coherent conversation with a 5 year old?
5 year old nowadays are not like when I was growing up there are very tricky you have to weigh your words carefully when talking to this younglings.

Do you have trouble with words that have more than two syllables?
(Laughing) you know kizungu ilikuja na meli alafu you just know(continues laughing)

Have you seen and fought in both world wars?
I can tell you horror stories, but I was lucky I used to see around General Schminicks and I just loved how we used to tremble when we saw that man. He had quite a slap on him. I really admired him infact it is a dream of mine to be like him one day when I become President.

Have you personally met Livingstone, Speke or any other explorer?
Oh yes Livingstone I heard he died I can't believe it you know. People are really dying nowadays. Bigger than Livingstone there was another one during my days at the CID when they were still effective I went for that troublemaker Karl Marx at Nairobi University I could have caught him but I was diverted by a call that Patrick "fatso" Shaw had just dropped. Anyway yeah I have met those people is Speke still around ? If someone can give me his contacts so that I can holler at him.

Did your primary school atlas have only one continent, and was it Pangea?
Oh you are still very young young one that one came out when I was taking my first wife so you are still very young how old?(laughing)

Do your friends and loved ones cringe when you open your mouth in preparation to speak?
You know like I told you I used to work under General Schminicks and he taught me a thing or two about instilling fear in people. Everytime I prepare to speak my friends offer me a drink and you know I can't resist. Am tough bwana wewe they are afraid of the thunderous tone of my voice especially when am insulting people from other tribes. Am a contender truly.

Do you have trouble distinguishing the words PUBLIC and MINE?
I believe that what is the public's is mine which politician doesn't ? This is at the foundation of a good Kenyan politician.

Are you a colossal bore? Would people rather paint their houses with their tongues than enjoy your society?
Actually many people consider me an intellectual snob the reason you see them opting to paint with their tongues ni vile sasa I have challenged them and they have thought mpaka now they zone of you know not many people are clear upstairs but am not one to brag about my brilliance. You just know how jealous people are

Can you sleep on demand?
Oh definately that is not even something I think about it just happens.

Bwana Thinker enclosed is alittle something for the road. So let me know when I can start.

If you have answered YES to any of these questions, then we are looking for you!The Cabinet Of Kenya is one of the fastest growing entities in the world. Our motto is "Quantity" and our mission statement is "The More The Merrier". And just last night we grew still more.Benefits
Job security: As sure as some of our members' affinity for free stuff, your job is secure. Like the Mafia (the Italian One), the only way out of the Cabinet is via the Grim Reaper (*Note1)
Free helicopter rides
Handsome remu... renu ... remune .... renume ... Salary!
Hookups from fellow cabinet ministers e.g. tax waivers, import contracts
Free use of Government facilities. (We have an excellent army that can dig boreholes, herd your cattle, till your farm, etc. The Airforce can be deployed to take care of those pesky crows and hawks troubling your farm. Our Navy can take excellent care of your swimming pool. These bodies also do stuff when we are attacked)
Ample assistance: 3 assistant ministers, 3 assistant assistant ministers, 2 deputy assistant ministers and 4 deputy deputy sub assistant ministers
Comprehensive insurance for life and all body parts (*Note2)
Interest free loans / grants (*Note3)
Your own convoy, complete with bodyguards who don't have the sense to get into their cars while they are stationary but instead wait for them to hit breakneck speeds

Things that make you go hmmmm.......

2005-08-05T15:49:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days that felt like a Monday yet it was really Friday.
Everyone was at work from annoying to most annoying employee and I had the honor of going to lunch with most annoying.
Most annoying is obviously one of those who are plain racists but try to come through as innocently ignorant this are often the worst kind, but the best to kick and toss around.
So there I am chowing down on nutrients while she comes along all skizzed up in some short skirt with stockings am thinking it is 90 degrees outside but the heat index has it feeling like 105, but then again to each their own.
She smiles her usual fake smile and butts her behind on the chair next to mine.
We exchange pleasantries and then like some godless serpent she slowly slithers around me as if eyeing which part of my beautiful curvaceous African body she might want to take a bite off.
My hips? .
My thick sensous African lips that I love to pout for fun?
My well endowed backside?
Perhaps double luck charmies that bless my chest a testament to my African nurturing?
My beautiful black natural Afro ? Offcourse they don't even go there since I said to one that touching that hair is equivalent to harassment.
No she is the leech type she wants my mind.
It bothers her that am African, smart and proud.
It bothers her that am African , beautiful and bold.
It bothers that am African fearless and that often they depend on my mind.
So, because unlike me she is a coward she feigns ignorance and decides to quiz me on her wonders
"So you are from Africa", she leers on in her annoying tone of voice.
"Kenya" I respond and await the next round.
The fun has just began I tell myself and smile.

"Oh does Kenya have an Aids problem?" she asks like some old annoying biddy trying to get away with murder.
"Aids problem? Kenya? Wowww where did you hear that from?" threw her shyt right back at her.

Puzzled she looks at me and begins to search for a better way to frame her question ........"oh, I just read about it that almost all Africans now seem to have Aids?

So amused I asked her so in short you are asking if I have Aids?

"Oh , no not at all you could never," she continues to try and damage control.
"Oh come on am so suprised it has been all over the news" she trolls on.
She goes on to insist that she will even bring me the article and then yap she got saved by the song.
"I heard it on TV during liveaid"? (blame it on liveaid huh!!!!!!!! did we not just state clearly that we read an article on it and you were even going to bring it to me?)
"Liveaid???????"""again I act puzzled.
"What is that?" she is slowly getting exhausted it is 15 minutes into the game and she isn't doing so good.
What was supposed to be a luncheon to remember was ending to be disastrous.
I have been down this road before and was not going to waste any inch of my time having a conversation with a bigot.
Instead since she wanted to ask questions I figured let her answer them.

"Oh goodness, Karen you didn't watch when they were raising all this money for all those poor people in Africa to help them?"
"Oh gracious Lauren, I had no idea about that do tell what happened?" I implored her.
"It was a concert and all this people were singing songs to help people with Aids in Africa?"

"Nope, I must have missed it am not really a big fun of TV you see".

Then suddenly she changes the topic to a fellow colleague's birthday cake.
"Did you taste it, oh am going to have to starve this whole weekend but it was worth the taste.
I love white cake more than chocolate you know."

"Oh no, am not a big fan of cakes I eat wholesome foods only, but I tasted the vegetable crudites and they were delightful. However, should I choose to sin my all time favorite is black forest nothing in this world can beat that." I continued to add to her annoyance.

"I like your hair," she strains to say.
"Oh thank you all my life I have wanted to have my hair this way and finally here it is" I said proudly.

"Oops Lauren , look at the time I have to run I had such fun, we should do this again," I lie.
"Oh so soon?" she asked disappointed. I haven't gotten to the part where I put your black behind where it belongs and off you go she must be thinking.

I am at my wits end with this calibre of people to the point that I have no intention whatsoever to try and reach out to them.
I think the reason the entire African diaspora is falling apart is because Africans are the most tolerant species in the human race.
We are the ones always willing to meet and talk things over.
We are the ones who will form reconciliation committees to let people who maimed, raped and butchered our own to walk scot free under some foolish notion of forgiveness.

When does this madness stop? I asked my friend who I whined to about my lunch and she was quick to say my response was wrong.
I should have tried to reach out instead of fight her.

How do you reach out to someone who already thinks of you as an inferior?
Why in the hell should I have to do that?
Am not exactly a charity case where I work am qualified to be there.
My work is nothing short of excellent and yes I can say that not to brag but simply to make my point that am just as good.
There I will make no effort that is not necessary to try and convince anybody of that.
With what I have I will tarmack in no man's road.

Why is it always me the black person that should be the rational one?
Why do I always have to prove to people that you know what am also a human being treat me with some respect will you?
Why?

I don't understand my friend's point of view though I love her dearly we operate on very different wavelengths.
I was not raised to cower or kiss up to.
That is the sacrifice of my parents that I can be the way I am today.
Free and able to fight back.

This thing is nothing but it bothers me that even fellow African have bought into this notion that we Africans must forever endeavor to the white man's standards, to the white man's friendship while he on the other hand wouldn't give a darn.

Why when is it comes to us we must forgive?
Why when is it comes to us we must rational?
Why when is it comes to us we must be"civil" and find "peaceful" means?
Why?????????

Am not from that generation that the colonialists left behind where everything progressive we saw was of caucasian heritage.
I have grown to see my black people do things to.
I have grown up with my black role models.
I have been educated in excellent schools by over qualified black educators.
I have grown to see black people run prosperous businesses.
I have even grown to see black people use their hands and prosper their too as in the attitude of office work is all the rage is non existant.

So, it is confusing to me when at some point in my life there is this inferior being that wants me to think any less of myself.
Granted Africa has problems grave ones if I should say, but does that mean I should carry its brunt on my back?
Am I responsible for every bad thing that is Africa?
My only responsibility to Africa is to make a change with the little I have in my hand.
My personal contribution to make Africa self sufficient and restore her to glory, but am not going to accept anyone that relishes in the western media's constant bombardment of the African catastrophe.
I refuse to be the poster child and will not tolerate anyone who will try to drag me to that status.
Those who wish to be associated with that self pity nonsense my heart goes out to you as for me
am a different breed of what an African really means.
I believe that Africa's glory will come from my toil and so till that day I keep working.

I resolved along time ago not to seek integration with anyone that sees me as a lesser being.
There is no pride in fighting with a fool.
I choose to use my energies elsewhere rebuilding my nation throught whatever task it is the Almighty shall choose for me.
All that religious nonsense that came to our lands many years ago in the form missionaries has bogged us down long enough.
That kind of attitude is not in sync with real life.
In real life you protect your things furiously to the end and anyone that treads your territory leaves not to see the next day.
Those that preach civility are masters at this.
Yet we are fooled and fool ourselves each day that what we must garner for is respect.
Respect no man that doesn't respect you simply instil fear in him and have that covered.
That statement though rotten in virtue is the most true of all that is real and human today.
It is the kind of tolerance that has us electing the likes of Kibaki and his scandalous Sir Murungaru to power.
A sense of self preservation should be the core of our black consciousness if ever we are to move from this deep pit hole.

Summer recap........................

2005-08-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

Obituaries.

My grandpa.......................84 years will miss you big thank you for everything.

Luther Vandross............for the voice that touched me best song .........dont'want to be a fool never again........and if I didn't know better ............oh man Luther miss you.

Garang...................How can something be so close and yet so far yesterday in Sudan there was a vision of peace today there is violence, suspicion and perhaps peace has once again been thwarted for the tireless work may your soul rest now.

MOMENTS OF HUMOR

Liveaid!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yeah baby wish I had people throw concerts to solve my problems for me.

Murungaru's banishment from home....................HEHEHEHHOOOHEHEEOOHEOOOHEEEHAA

I spent my summer just watching events pass by thought it would be safer that way.
During the liveaid days I was off in Mombasa enjoying my Kenyan behind off too much why should I worry when other people can solve my problems for me right.
I mean all it will take is some songs and before you know it voila!!!!!!!!! things are okay.
It baffles the way the African condition has been reduced to such simplistic terms.
What ails Africa she knows and believe me it has nothing to do with hunger and poverty but plain and simple two parties the west and their african puppets.
The rest are plain and simple symptoms of the problem.
My heart offcourse goes out to all the artists who supported liveaid and one.org but am sure that common sense reigns supreme in all aspects of life be they international, national or personal.
Self intiative is the only key to problem solving.
Isn't it obvious that the only thing you can do for a loved one who is dosed up in drugs is to intervene, but no matter how much you do the choice of overcoming the addiction is personal.
Hence I don't see how music concerts and g8 concessions can help Africa.
Perhaps one day in Africa we will be seek and tired of being sick and tired and will decide to do what it is we know we must do till then things are as they should be.
Africa must solve her problems for herself.

The violence in Kenya is becoming a thorny issue I don't know if we can blame it on a certain minister's slippery bathroom floor that he is not able to keep watch over national security or are this flare ups of the fire next time in Kenya?
The past few weeks have either been rocked with violence in the North Eastern province or the rungu lashing police accosting wananchi for asking the govt to deliver on what was the basis of their campaign.
Am not suprised that Kibaki is acting just like Moi or in some cases even worse what Kibaki forgets is this they ran a campaign making it seem like a new constitution will transform Kenya while my personal opinion from the start was Kenya does not need a new constitution but new managers and citizenship that is willing to walk the talk.
However all that fell into pigeonholes as day after day (this is back in the day when he used to stay awake) that what Kenya needed was a new constitution.
Like Orwell put it so well in his book the animal farm Mkimwa and the rest of the pigs had no intention of changing your life or mine but rather were staging ground for their takeover.
So when the people who are now underworked, underpaid took to the streets Mkimwa's response was to sent in the police. In short thwart dissent and people's right to assemble demanding for what their govt promised would be delievered within its 100 days in power.
Offcourse am hoping a liveaid song would help Kenyans conquer this obstacle.
Am wondering what Kenyans are hoping to do come 2007 have we had enough or are we suckers for punishment?
Will Kibaki' and his African Englishmen be graceful enough to step down like Moi and his cohorts did leaving the Kanu damsels sobbing in the statehouse gardens?
Or will the Narc strongmen behave like they have in the past few weeks and even deny the Kenyan people their choice of the lesser evil?

Then offcourse not to be left behind is the colonial remnant who now holds a security position in the Narc gorvernment says that in a country whose constitution clearly grants the right of movement that snarly, bloodshot eyed sub chief will have audacity to question anyone he deems "foreign" in an area of what he is doing there?
This is part of the ongoing war on insecurity going on in Kenya.
This old guard seems to miss the days when he wore his hard starched self standing shorts and would escort the Bwana on his usual tax collecting escapades in the village where they molested and terrorised people.
Sometimes you would think that with old age comes wisdom but that again is highly debatable.
Well I say it hear first leaving away from home has made me appreciate my rights so much that my heart goes out to our local sub chief who ever else will approach me and ask me what am doing in a certain part of Kenya.
Again Mr Kibaki naps through all this does Kibaki really exist ? Is he alive?

In Sudan am still reeling at the events that have just taken place there the death of Garang the swearing in of the soldier and not to mention the madman in Khartoum and his pretensious 3 days mourning don't you just wonder with people sometimes?
l then it seems to be something in the East African skies that has its leaders meeting their demise up there if am not wrong was it not President Habyrimana's death that sparked the fires in Rwanda.
The East African skies are something aren''t they?

I was actually feeling some hope for the Sudanese people but am sure now his shoes are completely ripped from the many people claiming that their feet are the perfect fit.
Am not so sure about the soldier but guess we can wait and see....................
Darn Garang RIP and to the Sudan people bila words.

And today in democracy the Saudi royal family even without thought or tassle shows us all what blatant means while other names are bombed or have their elected leaders banished the Saudi family as always holding it down.

Coolest website

My brother introduced me to this website am sure he thought it would make me feel better knowing how far and wide I have travelled to set my eyes on this man man.
But instead it gave me a new respect for Tyra "money in " Banks next top husband Chris Webber. I know see why she loves this man it is one thing for a guy to be gorgeous and have all those killer qualities but it is very rare to have the complete package which this man really is.
I never knew that Chris Webber collected African American artifiacts and what a collection he has.
I even found out that we loved the same book from Superman to man.
He has it all the words of Wheatley to the postcards of Alex Haley and this are original to the clip on Martin Luther King.
I mean am one of those people who take stuff forgranted so I have never imagined that those civil rights years were even for people like me would my black arse be working where I am if it wasn't for people like Martin Luther King and the many whose names we don't even know?
Offcourse I went there with hopes of gawking at this brother but I left there with a new found respect and jealousy for sister Tyra wish them both the best.
That Mr Webber is an amazing collection good work.

Horror

2005-08-02T05:57:00.000-07:00

Down with Blair!

How dare he banish an African Englishman from his own home turf?
What manner of scandal is that?

How is the great Sir Murangaru to survive the harsh African climate?
What happens when he suffers from another episode of bathfallitosis will this bush African doctors know how to treat him?
Am sure the Americans and the rest of the Europeans are more reasonable but excuse me the uppity suburbs of Connecticut though steeped in English tradition are simply put substitutes.
Completely unacceptable.
The trademark of being an Englishman is being home in England.
Conversating about the weather while enjoying the latest pekoe brand of English tea(which is grown in some African bush called Kericho but that is not even a point to be considered), going for a fitting on London's Oxford's street or simply taking that leisurely afternoon stroll the Englishman's hallmark.

Such distress to a man who is doing everything to keep to par with the ways of his hero the Englishman.
Come on Blair have alittle soul and let the poor lad home.
Can't you see he will be nothing without his Harrod bought polo and that Phillip Green grin he so desperately tries to imitate give him a chance.
Let Sir Murangaru come back home to England where he belongs.

Am sure Sir Murangaru now knows the importance of fair tender distribution as always England's interests come first and Kenyans never.

AM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-08-01T19:44:00.000-07:00

Hey friends thanks for the checking in.

By the way I have no idea what echawawa means like many things in my life it was random.
Lol@ the ewoks thought.

Anything goes Friday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-06-02T15:33:00.000-07:00

2005-05-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

Am not very good at posting pictures but it would have been wonderful to have been able to load the picture of Kenya on June 1st 1963.
The hopeful faces of the people cheering on their soon to be President Jomo Kenyatta who is being flagged by Mama Ngina looking on in disgust is the outgoing British gorvernor, the aristrocrats and the rest of the western world.
Except one wrinkly looking man he is the only white man smiling.
He seems to know that what is happening at this moment is simply that a show to calm down the savages.
To save Britain's face in the rise of the United States of America who at that time were coming into grips with the reality of the civil right years.
For the faces of the Kenyans there is hope, determination and untold joy.

At the very same time there are those who are unhappy with Jomo Kenyatta they feel that he "sold out", they feel that he was the "British pawn" and that the true hero of the day had died before this day of great expectations. They muttered Dedan in whispers for they had seen him when he lead a war against their oppressors, they knew that when he gave up his life it was not for just a few of them it was for Kenyans hence he reached out and it is alleged that it was on this very day that the likes of Oneko slowly wiped tears as they trickled down their face. They felt cheated as if the British were back the only difference was they had painted their faces black.
So as not to arouse the suspicion and savagery of the Africans.
To buy the British time to once again rethink a strategy on gaining a stronghold on this land.
It was alleged and I personally believe it that many colonialists like Delamere were worried about what they called "their property in Africa" after all the British went ahead and rewrote Kenyan history by stating false statements that this man was the brains behind dairy farming.
In a nation never you mind whose source of food had always been agriculturally based.
It was to calm the storms and make the Africans think freedom was finally here while they knew that this was nothing but a layup of bull shyt.
The Africans who were at the helms of gaining independence for their respective nations had fought a good fight but did not think 5 or 10 years ahead.
What they wanted was to be free and they didn't specify what kind of freedom they wanted.
They wanted to be free but wanted to map their constitutions on the blueprints of the very people they were unwrangling the shackles from.
They wanted to be free but at the same time were willing to negotiate the likes of Delamere's continued stay at the expense of the people.
They wanted to be free but did not realise that they had become part and parcel of the capitalist system that British were ever so fond of where they come and muzzle their way, steal and go away with it no questions asked.
They didn't realise that the British and their fellow western gorvernments had settled for a newer kind of scramble that would see the lives of those hopeful African mortaged and in the end they knew it would strip them of all sorts of scruples. They will be left bare and with it will follow the propaganda and arm twisting that we have all become so accustomed to.

The only one who betrays that reality is the old man in the picture the rest of the British remain uncomfortable in their seats. Almost annoyed that they have lived through this moment.
The Kenyans meanwhile cheer on and you can see it in their faces.
Perhaps this picture I will keep to remind me of what a truly happy citizen looks like beside it I will keep the picture of the victim of Delamere's grandson's atrocity's children. Little Leah clutching on to her brother as their gorvernment tells them to their face that their father's life meant nothing.
This Madaraka day am pondering at how far we have come.

From this moment in this picture to this picture of this two children.
Murdered by a colonial remnant, pardoned by a grossly pathological gorvernment and robbed of a parent.
This Madaraka day am pondering at the story of children like my father who had dreams and could see them come true. Without a last name to match. A bribe to pay or a favor to be remembered in days to come.
But, rather on the basis of a nation that provides opportunity for its young.

This Madaraka day am pondering at hope of that day?
Where did it go?
Am pondering at the unity of that day a nation united for a common goal that of the posterity of its people and self.
I look as us today and we are a nation divided by tribal differences, social castes, petty politics etc
Where is that national agenda that was foster self and national progress?

This Madaraka day am pondering at those whose lives have been lost in the senseless violence that has rocked our nation over the years from the shooting of school children by President Kenyatta's bodyguards, to the tribal clashes in Molo, Coast Province, to the wrath of terrorists in 1998 and 2001, to the daily butchering of Kenyans by fellow Kenyans.
Am looking at the people in this picture and am wondering how they can come from crying and hugging each other to raising machetes and killing each other.

This Madaraka day am thinking of Bildad Kaggia, Dedan Kimathi, Achieng Oneko.
Am thinking of what a tragedy it was that we had this men and learnt absolutely nothing from them.
Am thinking of how I was introduced to them as "radicals" and "bad elements" instead of men who stood for something. Men whose sacrifice we shall remember when our nation will finally disintegrate.
Then am thinking of the day Kaggia died and the headlines on the newspaper "Kaggia died a pauper" am shocked that we are not told of what he gave up so that perhaps some in Kenya could have.
Am shocked that we did not remember this man for his integrity and his hate for corruption that unlike the kind of leaders we have when he said he hated corruption he lived it.
Am saddened that we were not reminded of how the likes of Kenyatta mocked him at his graciousness.
Am saddened that one day we might remember Kaggia, Dedan etc but it will be too late.
Am saddened that my children will never know of any better Kenyan politician because our gorvernment has gone ahead and rewritten history.
Teaching lies and twisting facts calling it History.
Am even more ashamed that am not demanding that true pages of history be installed so that all may judge for themselves.

This Madaraka day am saddened and amazed at how things can go so wrong that they is no way of making them right again.
I look at this picture and wonder what it might have felt like to have been in that moment, because at this moment am torn, embarassed and disgusted by my nation.

Am even more disgusted with the latest show of imperial allegiance by our gorvernment to what is simply a case of murder.

I look at this picture of Leah and her baby brother.
I look at this picture of a moment in Kenya June 1st 1963.
I look at fruitful and shattered expectation am left pondering at the wonder of it all.
This is June 1st 2005.

What I do to relieve stress: the case for the boring story

2005-05-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

My first encounter with the power of labels was some twenty years ago, one beautiful Friday morning in Nairobi. I stood there trembling holding my breathe the election result! the election results were about to be announced any minute and it was pretty obvious that the potential candidates had all run successful campaigns, however which of them run the best. Was able to win over the voters and convince them that they will serve in their best interests?
That was the tough one. As the voters lined up one by one one could tell from their tentative mood that many a sleepless nights had been spent pondering on who will be in , who will be out and who will remain.
Big business was watching closely after funding campaigns it was time to be rewarded, but most importantly I was in Std1.Excited about the notion of school and fascinated with learning(offcourse you wish that kind of enthusiasm stays with you your whole life through, but sadly it doesn't). Finally, I was a "big girl", who threatened my mother with moving out everytime she instilled motherly discpline. My days were honestly spent looking at the orange cover of my Primary Mathematics Book 1 by K.I.E, how the boy and girl had their feet meticulously on the 1.
I couldn't help wondering what it felt like to be on the cover of the grey std 8 Primary Mathematics book, lucky for me my patience skills average way below and as such it wasn't long before I concerned myself with my big acheivement being a std 1 and today was indeed a big day for std 1s like myself. One of us was about to be awarded the powerful position of class prefect and if you were like me whose name appeared something like this in the blue book

NOISEMAKERS

1. Karen x 100000000000000000

and followed by the words,"teacher everyone else was quiet except Karen,". Days like this are ranked up there with the day your officially expire from this life under no circumstances can you afford not to be there nor know. As I stood pensively in line fidgeting pulling Gupreet's hair, pinching Awori's thighs (his shorts were always too short) I had one final mission to accomplish and there he was my brother. The awkward looking, bespectacled boy with the std5s who kept on adjusting his blazer buttons wondering if he will look better accepting his tie and badge with his buttons open or close. His eyes met mine and immeadiately he turned away. I began to hiss his name...........Chhhhhhrrrrrriisssssss while waving frantically. In front of his friends and woman(the better part of my story) embarassed he gawked at me , but I couldn't stop as ashaming my brother was a role I took on religiously. Then suddenly one of the prime voters gave me a friendly pat from the back that sent me flying to the std2s line. "Shut up, will you Karen," the voter with a warthog's face and bad weave scolded me. "Otherwise am going to have you kneel down," she continued to threaten me.

Sometimes you wish teachers could read the minds of their students and this is one of those moments we are grateful that thoughts are private affairs unless you open your trap nobody knows them, but you. So, offcourse I gained composure after the thudding I had just gotten and gave my brother one last wave and awaited the election results.
Prior to the real elections it was easy to figure out who the potential candidates were. It was always the ones the teachers picked on keep the class quiet while they mysteriously disappeared.
Once this done to you more than once the "selected few" launched massive campaigns and spared no cost to convince their constituents (read teachers) not only the importance of voting for them,but rather gave them a taste of the what was to be expected everything from cakes, cookies, "teacher that ugly dress is really very pretty type comments, deliberate attempts to offer the voters transportation and big business (read over eager and ambitious parents) played.
After all the "selected few" owed their campaigns to generous contributions from big business.
In our house for instance the campaign was officially on 2 weeks before closing day.
No wonder my brother was always so sure about the election results before they were announced.
"Am going to be a prefect again!!!!!! he said matter -of -factly. "Oh that is very good", both my parents said looking proudly at their offspring. However, years of success had slowly worn the enthusiasm of the first "am going to be prefect" announcement. Evident by the pictures that laced our hallway of that commemorative day. My brother holding his tie, tying it, folding it, posing with it without his sweater and holding it up (that is the other picture that hangs in the sitting rooms of both sets of grandparents). Having said that don't be fooled by their lack of flare remember they funded his campaign. The many cakes warthog face and friends had gobbled up, the many rides we had given her and rascals, the fake comments from my brother and the apology letter I was meant to write promising to be a better student next year. Then offcourse my brother himself was new from underwear to blazer. After the campaign cometh the results.

The pre-primary scene was not my thing anymore and I made no mistake of potraying that.
Rolling my eyes and gawking in disbelief at how some "baby-cry" by the name Herbert made it to the throngs of power. However, my eyes were fixed on the big one "STD 1 PREFECTS".
The reading of their names was in itself a surreal experience. Fat Alice , Maynard the theif, Amina the snitch and Kama the horny were the chosen ones.
I could see warthog face adjust herself she like myself was expecting Gupreet to win. No more rides in their sleek wheels, acting like she and Gupreet's father were "rolling on them chromes" and her face said it "KBS here I come, chevda no more".Offcourse someone hadn't lobbied as well as they had been paid to . It was offcourse the long story behind some of the "other ministries" that were created in a bid to accomodate the rejected candidates to spare themselves the wrath of big business. Gupreet became shelf prefect it was upto him to make sure all the books were arranged neatly and given out on time.
She even made concessions to the likes of Sheila and Caroline that incase Amina was absent they were the prefects. It was no wonder Caroline kept her own book for noisemakers and guess whose name kept popping up? Yap, gud ol Karen.

As for my brother it was one uneventful occassion. He trudged on to accept his tie, but this time I could sense a nervousness in my brother. His step alittle slower and he kept making secret glances obviously not to me, but I knew exactly who it was.
There she was Sheila the girl who would be end my brother's political career.
Clapping and smiling nervously. Offcourse to the world my brother was this girl hating freak, but to me who had witnessed his many escapades he was a shameless womaniser and poor Sheila didn't know it yet.

Like it is with all whistleblower tales to change or recreate history is the definate goal.
It was time for me to capitalise on what I knew about my brother.
I knew two things that he really did like Sheila during my many trips to his room without his permission I found the words FLAMES and both their names cancelled. The birthday present I gave him (the money I owed him) was spent on buying Sheila a card.
This was going to be the biggest political scandal and I wanted to be part of this history.

Like every whistleblower I confronted my brother with the confiscated evidence from his room.
I was willing to negotiate and come to a agreeable terms, but my brother decided not to rectify the problem.
I was no Anderson accountant and recognised the benefits of evidence. It was about the same time my brother's ex started calling to speak to him.
The winds of change were slowly looming in.
His relationship with the ex was not only scandalous because she was a girl, but that she was really a big girl in std7.
She called my brother saying she wanted to hold hands to which he wanted to mutter something, but quickly reverted to "Ben, am going to call you back let me go finish my homework" when he saw Mommy dearest.
I decided to approach him one last time to cut a deal, but not only did he refuse he shoved me out of his room.

I don't have to describe how my days at school were and it was time for me to change that.

Quickly I knocked on the door and hurried downstairs with the words ,"Mommy look what I found in Chris's room".
I presented my evidence before parliament and awaited the backlash.
My brother stood at the staircase in disbelief as I sauntered around the room dancing to glory and victory.
Parliament(read Mom) carefully accessed the evidence and immediately summoned my brother to the sitting room.
Stupidly he said,"but am doing my homework". "Come here, one, two and......." before the third count he was in the sitting room.
Crying hysterically I had never seen my brother shed a single tear and for a semidemihemiseci second I felt a pang of sadness, but oh well he lived.

However, parliament's response suprised me the most she waited for my father to come and they seemed to counsel him. A defeat, no doubt, but there was still hope.

So, I drafted a letter in his chicken handwriting to his ex telling her that I too would love to hold hands with her and she should meet me at........... I did the same thing for his heart beat Sheila.
I knew my brother and Sheila often went there to sit close together, hold hands or exchange sloppy kisses.
On the planned evening my brother excused himself from the game he was playing with friends and quickly headed to "their spot" where Sheila was waiting. He whispered something it must have been stupid in her ear and she kissed him. Just when his ex was arriving with her heart in his hands. She was crushed. Taller and bigger than both of them she decided to give them a beating of their lives.
His friends had the noises came rushing to see what was happening. They found my brother being kicked by both Sheila and his ex.
It was a sight to behold.
The looks of "Chris what are you doing with girls?" and talk of Chris with girls was all they kept piping about.

For a while his life was ruined, but he suddenly they were 13 and once again his expertise on women put him on the map.
For a brief moment there I attempted to write a story something I do when am tired, bored and just want to say things that make no sense.
This is one such story.

Our parents.

2005-05-15T14:48:00.000-07:00

The last time I wrote an essay bearing to parents was when I was in std 2 about my Dad. My mother was so impressed that she framed it so that my Dad would see it.
Anyways forward some five years later and am sitting in my English classroom reeling over the 20/40 I had gotten in my composition. How did this happen to me? I mean am a seasoned writer, my work has been displayed in our sitting room and did I add framed for all to see.
Then comes my English teacher who was never really a big fan of mine and she stamps such grades how am I supposed to go to a top high school if one year short of KCPE am scoring 20s instead of 30s in my composition. It was time to change and my teacher already had a hunch on how to do it. "Here," she tossed the daily nation's chidren section at me. "Read and try to see how imaginative the writers are,". During those times I was anti anything Kenyan it was considered to be "uncool" and I was not one to fall in that category. I quickly heaved it in my bag as she watched me with an amused smile on her face."You better read it" she chimed. I know if it wasn't against the rules she would have battered me on how come am the only one suffering from a writer's block.
Offcourse, she was right in a way my interests were far from English. My new passion was Science and Maths, hence the need to waste my time with subjects like English was really beneath me so I thought. It then follows that my imagination at that time would beat the speech writers for those who wrote the "baba nimerudi nyumbani........"speeches for the money hungry politicians who in a moment of bad judgement thought that the grass was greener in the opposition pastures only to find that the grass has always been sweeter in Kanu. Hence their self inflicted humiliating spectacles they made of themselves in public in a bid to convince baba Moi that they were truly reformed and were willing to wallow lower than the dust to prove their loyalty to Kanu.
As you can see it was time for change.
Hence, I began to read the young nation diligently in secret. With time my essays did improve enough to allow my teacher to focus on other things that really didn't concern me much.
So, when I was going through my usual Sunday ritual you guessed it reading young nation I came through the story of a young girl that broke my heart.
This little sweet heart's family from the story is facing what is without going into much detail a very trying experience. Yet before tragedy struck she had watched Oprah's show and written a letter for her Mom which was found on the scene of the accident. She later when on to explain how when she sees other children complain about their moms she only wishes they knew.
It is funny the wisdom that children have. In her own simple way she speaks the most profound of truths to all of us. Reminding us of how our parents despite the daily abrasions common in human relationships are deserving of our appreciation every single day. How does she know, she told her mother and her mother carried the letter with her wherever she went.
I thought of her actions, words and the many times am always counting the wrongs instead of the rights that I have my parents.
Who have done nothing short but provided and still do for me to be the woman I am today.
I don't tell them everyday that I love or appreciate them and yet it is about the only thing I can give them for all that they are to me.
My parents are not just my guardians, but the dearest of my friends.
During the gloomiest of my days it is their arms that comfort me, their words that give me hope and their efforts that have created opportunity for me.
I wouldn't have asked for better parents and hope that when heaven blesses me with the honor of parenthood I can do just abit of what they have taught me.
Then no doubt I shall raise an exceptional child or children.

It is important that we get to let our loved ones know especially our parents that we know and appreciate them.
Words sometimes are not easy for some of us in a strange way the word love has such a profound effect on me that most times I prefer action to the words I love you.
Isn't it beautiful what the words of a little angel can do to one?
Sometimes, God speaks to us as if to remind us that his greatest wisdom is found in the most unexpected places. In my case it was the words of heaven's angel.
My prayer in turn goes to that angel and her family. God's grace that has been abiding continue to be with you all. Having the hope that all is possible with God.

Matters of the gold digger and independent woman.

2005-05-15T13:43:00.000-07:00

For years, we have known the gold digger for her seductive and deceptive ways. She who rescues the unhappy husband from his oh -so- nagging wife and offers a self abode from his little talibans at home.
She the gold digger was the scorn and shame of the notion that is womanhood.

How a woman can't work to pay her own way I will never understand? the modern day feminist can be heard ranting on and on . Giving dirty looks to the woman that has been marked and crowned gold digger by her society of independent women.
"Get a job, you b itch" they can be heard saying. "Home wrecker" one of the most polite names an independent sister will heap on her.
Meanwhile the gold digger goes on about her business. She has mastered the art of having "thick skin unlike them in denial. She knows that they are one in the same thing. The difference lies in the legality of the issue one might be the wife, while she the lover. The terms that bind them to the same man are suprisingly the same.

The art of women using their feminity to pay their way is not a new phenomena but rather it is old as legend. While many women in society are bound to act respectful and honorable despite the blatant facts that man and woman's relationship is first of all symbiotic.
The gold digger knew that the man used her as his trophy to soldify his status and boost his ego among his peers she on the other hand had him foot her bills.
The modern woman has worked terribly hard to try and separate herself from this selfish and scandalous breed of women many of them are now "independent women" and if you doubt it all you have to do is look around at the latest "girl power" frenzy from the years of T.L.C to the spice girls and to the once empowering now turned sex kittens Destiny's child. Oh and did I forget the pre-menopausal women with teenage libidos in Sex and the city?
You see those are the faces of the new independent woman.
Smart, financially independent, prides herself on her inability to do chores that were once earmarked as "women's work", while they really are tools of survival, "I can't fry an egg if you gave me illustrations" and her friends will cheer her on as if to say here she is the ultimate independent woman. Then again why should she cook and where is the time? Between board meetings, club hopping with her girls, business trips there is very little time for her to learn the basic of skills.
That is offcourse the doorway left open for gold diggers like myself to step in.
For us tools of survival are neither determinants of our social status but rather what years of practise have perfected. No wonder like my grandmother says she can't believe girls nowadays take years to get married while it takes so little to impress men in this time and age.
The gold digger is most of the times a mediocre cook, but compared to her lover's wife, girlfriend, or fiancee she must have gotten a Phd at the halls of Utalii. Her cleaning is sloppy at best but to a man who has to go through a war zone to get his socks a semblance of order is in itself a big plus. Then since she doesn't really have any life long ties to her lover she doesn't have to ask him about his obligations eg his chidren and their future(most men refer questions about this as nagging) so he savors those moments of sweet nothings whispered to his ears as opposed to "Baba nani the school called today the cheque bounced.........".
She the gold digger is the stress reliever and for this she gets paid handsomely depending on the type of fish she managed to hook.

Meanwhile in the real world, the wife or girlfriend is somewhere seething and grinding teeth at his wherabouts. She deserves better but why doesn't she leave?
The truth of this arrangement finally is not so simple she might have married him because even though he was not from the fat wallet family he had prospects that is a good job, industrious nature and if she met him when he was nearing 30 she was awed by his dreams. This man will make something of himself she must have thought and she being an independent , hardworking sister herself what a better match. On the other hand the girlfriend likes how people cower before him if he had no name people would call him Money. He is no looker but he comes from the right family and is full of future prospects being a go getter who knows that sacrifice is the name of the game , he is the ideal future mate for her.

While it is true that the idea of coming to make merry while you had nothing to do with the sowing is nothing short of shameless. The relationship between men and women is far from fair.
The nature of men is to consistently pamper their ever fragile egos hence their fixation on a woman's physical attributes. Women have made desperate attempts to escape from this reality yet in many ways fall prey to it time and time again. The independent woman cries her freedom, but being human desires companionship and that is where she once again finds herself spiralling into the arms of the monster she is running from. The look and size she weighs is no matter how much she tells herself is her business she secretly doesn't want to gain the unwanted pounds or stray too far from the acceptable looks as that will make mate searching a daunting and frustrating task.
So, like fellow beacons of enlightment eg Oprah she is free but bound at the same time.
She is a her own woman, but like the Destiny's child song "let me cater to you"......she promises to maintain that shape for you.

With such contradictory statements one is left wondering what do the words independent really mean?
Or rather what is the modern woman independent from?
Is she perhaps deluded in thinking that the trouser wearing world is finally coming into grips with letting the dresses and skirts sashay through the door?

I liken this interesting developments to the same thing that happened many years ago to us in Africa. When the colonial masters "gave" Africa her independence.
Many years later we realise that we had symbols of freedom, but are yet to be free.
It is the same thing with women.
What we have are symbols of what makes us think we are free.
We make more money. We have the rights to work and vote things that many years ago were nothing but pipe dreams.
However, the true freedom is a long way from being achieved till then we console ourselves and scorn those women among us who have always known it from the start.
We are as were many years ago a small part of this testerone filled world.
We are given a bit of the whole and are made to believe that we have it all.
We are still objects and not human beings.
We are told that we are free, but we have never really even began to taste what true freedom feels like.
If you doubt think of Africa we are a continent of free yet still bound heavily by the chains of our colonial masters.

crazy thought

2005-05-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

I just had a very strange thought is it possible for people in a nation to be independent of their gorvernment?

Is it possible for citizens to make the gorvernment feel inadequate? If so I would like to be the rebel that sets that very "funky" trend.

What will happen if instead of Kenyans begging the gorvernment for the 500,000 they somehow created them?

A work colleague of mine from India told me about this project started by a Gramin bank that has started a project that he truly admires.
It does the common thing, but is very unique it lends money to the grassroot Indian woman, but before she becomes a member she has to prove that she can save money for some 6 months. Daunting her says, but is amazed at how many women actually meet that challenge , get the loan and slowly begin their ascend from poverty. This program has seen rural Indian woman improve their quality of life in ways that are unbelievable the name of this project is keeps skipping my mind.

He then says that he believes that it is this movement that changed the political climate in the Indian election. The people when given the tools of change are empowered and finally rise up to the task of being "fruitful citizens".

My thoughts are what will happen if creative money lending programs were established that increased money flow into the common man's hands to start offer employment and have a phenomena like this sprout out all over Kenya am sure Anyang's 500,000 will be nothing but a penny a dime in comparision.
However, will this kind of entrepreneurship offer a sustainable form of employment that will allow savings among the common Kenyan?

I wonder how such a society functions if any ever exists at all. Gorvernment to me has and will forever be the most dangerous apparatus in any country as it is the determinant of every facet of society in that any given country. I think of gorvernment as the domineering and abusive husband and the public as the dependant and helpless housewife who has two children with cruel gorvernment.
The drama unfolds when the helpless housewife decides that she has enough of his gorvernment's cheating and abusive ways and wants out.
However, gorvernment reminds housewife as she lives him that he is the court, the economy and society itself.
Where does housewife start and can she really break from cruel gorvernment's chains?
I wonder maybe the day cruel gorvernment is put in his place will true a sense of fairness and normalcy resume to everyday society.
An illusion, but who knows.

Hmmmmmm........

2005-05-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

Am riled up and this has been happening to me quite regularly lately I wondereth what is the problem?
Anyway yesterday I got to attend one of those grown up events that a colleague of mine at work with her newly accquired nose wanted me to attend. "It will finally open your mind to the workings of the system.". See, my friend is one of those though on a mission to climb the corporate ladder leaves me feeling inadequate when it comes to putting her back where her mouth is. She is action oriented, am not. I admit am that African who flips channels when BET comes up with the "just $1 dollar a day will give "blah blah" a meal, think about look at this child's face and tell me it doesn't matter?" guilt stricken I flip on. My friend says am what is part of Africa's problem. She says I have grown to be content with the way things are. Am happy that am part of the few Africans who are an exception to what the words African mean. Priviledged and most often ungrateful.
At first I must admit it bothered me that she said things like that about me yet she herself was just like me. However, while I ignore problems and pray them away the classic and very normal way to handle things. My friend faces problems and finds ways in which she can make her own little difference. Her thing is education, creative ways of financing grassroot projects and helping us all shift from the blame mentality in a sense owning our destiny.
So, offcourse I have secretly come to admire t his girl she has knack and is not ashamed to go after what she wants even if it means tipping her nose. I wonder why the contradiction it almost reminds me of this other girl that was a serial activist in my college days who hated everything exxonmobil but was first on line to send her resume when quizzy eyes like mine gave her that ......I-thought-your-job-was-to-save-us-from -exxonmobil she replied and I will never forget ........."you create change from the inside out , once I get my foot in then the revolution will slowly begin" LMAO!!!!! this to me is what I have found with the so called revolutionary activist their hypocritical nature. In this time and age are you crazy pissing on the hand that signs the check you take home? Anyway, this is what I can never understand perhaps her insecurities with being African is a separate issue from her vision and dreams???

So, back to the meeting of the culturally aware, hip young folks. I must say it was good that I finally got my act together I already knew that bird watching was in question perhaps even some chocolate hottie would slip me his number(in this days of "feminism" I get the number and call them back), but I was very mistaken this wasn't one of those showy events it was a congregation of people who were there because they felt passionate about change. They talked about their efforts to donate books to their local schools back home, the impediments and offered each other solutions. Suddenly, my dead bit Africa will never change attitude has somehow been shaken. Especially this beautiful sister from Kenya who proudly got up and spoke about the dangers of being taken in with the new craze sweeping the entertainment world if I should quote her......"remember for actors, rappers and their friends" however genuine it is a fad when it wears off ou will be left with the stark reality of your own circumstances. Changing Kenya is my responsibility and it starts with me".(okay something like that if I add some more it will be like fibbing). Her mission is school books and program she hopes to launch on "the power is with you" in her hometown. Is this the new African revolution that if I sleep any longer will miss? or is this the new hope the revival that was hoped for? You can always tell when people do things for show and when it is done out of passion.
That crowd meant it.
They was a cute couple from Zambia who just got married and the husband gave me a sense of relief he was just as clueless as me, but he was getting into the mode and seemed to like it.

I guess what I went to last night was not a major media event, but for me I think it was a challenge dared at me. While like many am a chronic complainer of sometimes the gorvernment and fellow Africans my peers last night seem to have transcended that , knowing that my complaints are valid, but what am I going to do about it?

Blaming Kenyatta, Moi and Kibaki is getting old, it is not secret that they made no favors, but what I also observed was that they were unearthing the root of the problem and trying to understand it.
Through dialogue, inspiration and self education they were sharing their experiences on laying the foundations of what will perhaps be the new Africa's revival.

Well, as it is now am wondering what is my place in this scheme of things?
Despite my life what is it that I give back ?

All in all it was a wonderful evening I got to sample food from all over the continent and made friends who made a positive impression on me(my parents will be glad to learn that finally am hanging out with the right crowd).

What am I going to do?

Beauty and the workplace.

2005-05-11T07:41:00.000-07:00

Like many out there in this tough economic times(aren't they always?) am grateful to have a place to make a meaningful contribution to nation building whatever that means.
However, my place of work has changed dramatically since I sauntered through the doors some 2 years ago. A confused grad school student just grateful to finally enter the world of "professionalism" again whatever that means.
The one thing I love about my job is I can wake up at 7:45am and be at work by 8am am that lucky. The work environment didn't really require alot of grooming all they asked was you show up with your brain ready to crack it and they will be very grateful infact you could and still can negotiate your working hours as long as you put in the required 10.

The office despite being a mixture of cubicles and labs was very much a typical workplace with moms discussing how "Robert" the husband will be coaching this spring etc etc , men watching on the latest arrivals(women) and the usual signing the birthday card for a fellow colleague etc etc and then early last year in Achebe's words though it is almost a sin to use them in such shallow context things did really fall apart we got bought up by bigger fish and with it came the new requirement the dreaded "dress code" and also a sudden shifting of employees.
Before we were a mix of ages 65 to about 23 now we are 43-23.
The oldies got shipped out and the young and beautiful took over.

The impact of youthfulness and beauty in the workplace is not a new phenomena but am thinking in this time and age it is being taken a tad bit to the extreme. It is no secret that beautful people get better treatment and they have been numerous studies done to prove this.
From showing pictures of beautiful and ugly people to toddlers and concluding from the toddler's react that beautiful people make them say thatha and ugly people make them snicker or simply start bawling.
To ugly people or rather non-conformists like myself the new workplace is somewhat like walking down the road in Iraq anytime the beautiful insurgents can detonate the bomb that will blow your ugly behind out of that place. We are the new minority. We are the new target.
We nowadays walk with out hearts in our hands and eyes on back. Oogling around and sometimes making that extra stretch to please the powers that be.

However, all hope is not lost as pretty can now be bought. We non-conformists can take advanted of rhinoplasty to get rid our "ethnic" features as a certain employee herself a picture of success (she is also from home but hails from the great Nigeria) and walking advert. She actually appealed to may vanity and said that some tipping of my nosy and Nia, Tyra and Emma Toos of this world will be elbowed out as I will be the new "it" girl. I really laughed at that and for moment saw myself cuddling on to Tyra's Chris Webber and thinking darn it sure is nice to be pretty. Did I also mention that she was seeing this doctor too? Yap and was quick to refer to the terrified in the office to him if they mentioned getting some "work" done.

What really is the substance of anything this days?
Does it matter that you spend years cracking books to come to work and still not be content because at the end of it all it the book is judged by its cover after all.

What will impact will this new craze have on productivity in the workplace?
What will this do the self-esteem of the fragile egos out there?

Offcourse, appearances are important but extreme measures to alter your physical structure simply because you want to get ahead?
What happened to hardwork being rewarded?

I think the dilemmas of the new workplace are yet to see their end. Back in the day one had to learn how to counter backstabbers and those that slept their way to the top.
Nowadays a new vice is in town.
Appearance and by it they mean the perfect facial structures, right boob size, perfect behind, tighter abs and alittle bit of a brain.
With technology making what was deemed impossible afew years back possible who can tell what will be next.
From compromising work standards by embracing societal trends to encouraging an almost obessessive embrace of youthfulness it is no wonder not only the world but the entire world is reeling from the effects of rich frat boys in power.

Uglies of the world hold your own.
Fight with your minds and not the surgeon's scapel.
We will dress up and but won't give in to thoughts of the feeble though some days might be harder than some.
The struggle for a substance in the workplace goes unabated.
Merit for excellent work not boob size I say.
Promotion for leadership qualities not facelifts I say.

Uglies of the world unite.

Of society mental illness and misunderstandings........

2005-05-11T05:39:00.000-07:00

About a week ago I couldn't get over what Karucy our first lady got herself into and was incensed by her actions, but was humbled by the fact that am in my own weired way a drama queen and it would fair if I extended some understanding to Lucy's situation.
So, I said to my friend ," a gal Lucy might really be mental," ati what my friend nearly choked over her drink so what you are saying she accused me is that ........"Lucy is justified in slapping people ??" I was like no, but it was true I have numerous accounts about doubts being raised about the first lady's state of mind.
In a nation where even the most common tragedy is coped with under the guise of massive denial it is no wonder every Kenyan wants Lucy punished for her actions. Well there should be some retribution, but what if once again we are not getting it?
What if we have a lady battling with a problem and instead of getting help we are castigating her for it?
Mental illness as am slowly learning is like every other ailment that is misunderstood treated with the same mentality world over .......get it as far away from here as possible.
Last night on a PBS special they were talking about how prisons have become the new assylums for patients with mental disabilities. What I watched last night was gut wrenching and it reminded of the tragedy of ignorance and how history will always repeat itself.

A schizophrenic chained and locked up in some cage in attempts to protect him from society with the justification being at least he is not on the streets harming the public or himself and did we mention they also get medical attention that they may not get on the streets.
Group sessions held with people in cages and headline screaming first lady gone mad.
I hope that our first lady is simply an irritable, bitter and arrogant woman rather than a sick woman who is overwhelmed with the demons that surround her.

I hope that with all the lessons we have learnt from the advent of AIDS to Rwanda that ignoring problems don't make them go away rather in a concerted effort to understand the underlying problem can progress be acheived.

Then sometimes am reminded that mine are ideological ideas that have no bearing in a world that is more into practical ways of solving the problem for now.
Until then we hope that if such a fate should be fall ourselves or a loved one we will be reminded that in all of life's tragedies there is often hope even if we don't win the fact that we tried to even understand is more than if we turned around and acted like we didn't see it happen.

Mental illness is one such problem. I can not even begin to imagine what it means to be without your faculties to battle everyday with voices, hallucinations and thoughts so terrifying that even the simplest things I take forgranted you cower up and shelter yourself from the world.
Am glad am aware and hope that if ever I should encounter a situation like that Lord help understand and most importantly be there.

So much for that

2005-05-11T05:33:00.000-07:00

About a month ago I stumbled upon what I thought was a nice site full of interesting blogs by Kenyans and couldn't wait to join.
However, being the webaphobic that I am it has been quite a struggle and strain on my person to try and join that site so I have decided if you can't make that path work for yah then maybe you can get make your own.

What I really would have loved is to be among my own kind sort of like being home but away from home.
Anyways so instead of pinning over it am cool with it.
I will whine about everything under the sun in my own little space.