random vibes


I think it’s fairly obvious to anyone who’s read my blog over the last 6 years that I despise modern day feminists, and lately some people (men included) who refer to themselves as activists. I find them utterly disgusting, full of double standards and empty noise. This is quite ironic since I was raised by a feminist. See, back in their day, she and others like Martha Karua, Wangari Maathai et al actually had a cause that they were passionate about. They didn’t just make noise aimlessly, they pressed the policy makers and fought the regime of the day until the change that they desired was achieved. And when that happened, they moved on to becoming policy makers themselves.

Growing up as a young boy seeing all this, reading their materials, asking lots of questions, sometimes sitting quietly in the corner during their meetings, witnessing their struggles, being involved to some extent, I got to not only understand what feminism was all about, but its importance in Kenyan society based on the changes that they aimed to achieve. I also understood what activism is, and why it is necessary. So believe me when I say that I understand, respect and actually support what the feminist movement is about. Or rather, what it was about.

Nowadays it seems that calling oneself a “feminist” or an “activist” is the coolest tag in town, especially among chics in their early to mid 20s. The funny thing is that it’s very difficult to see what they’re “activating” about. Just because you have an opinion, a computer/iPad/smartphone, an internet connection and the ability to shit on everyone’s parade all day, every day doesn’t make you an activist. It makes you a nuisance. Especially when you have nothing in particular that you’re passionate about, and you spend your days behind a keyboard “advocating” kicking up a fuss about every single little thing and somehow hoping to be appointed a UN Goodwill Ambassador someday, oh come on now? Such individuals are solely responsible for the bastardization of the meaning of feminism and activism. (Some chap actually had the nerve to suggest that Al Shabaab should attack MPs and other economic criminals instead of ordinary wananchi. What the hell??)

Many latter day feminists/activists only fight for equality when it benefits them, and they ignore discrimination when it doesn’t help them. Case in point, over the past week there has been massive furore online following the Zainab/DKB incident in Big Brother Africa. Yet one wonders where some of these feminists were when Pangapuff Girls were going all Njeri Springer on Everyone Hates Karis in central Kenya recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why they were so silent was because they believed that the victims had it coming. Double standards much?

That’s not to say that there are no activists out there who are doing good things. One can only watch in sheer admiration at the kind of work that the likes of Ory Okolloh (aka @kenyanpundit), Paula Kahumbu, Alice Mwongera, Casey Adisa Marenge among many others are doing in various fields. Watch and learn from them on how not to stamp on everyone’s toes just to get your point across.

Back to the noisemakers. It would be a huge compliment to call them slacktivists. But I think the term Faptivists is more fitting, coz they remind me of this chap.

Faptivism

After you’re done airing your anger, bitterness, personal insecurities, daddy issues and literally repelling everyone from yourself in the name of “activism”, the only thing left to do is go home and hola at good old Bob (Battery Operated Boyfriend).

The next time I meet a dreadlocked chic in her 20s who introduces herself as a feminist or an activist for some bullshit cause, watch me spit out in disgust and walk away. I really don’t give two shits about your cause and truth be told, neither does anyone else. Get yourself a real job!

*Let’s see who’ll be the first to label me a chauvinist*

 

What’s on my Playlist?

Dan Chizi Aceda – Ordinary

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I know I’m late to the party, but happy new year to everyone.

You know the way you see certain things happen to “other people” but you tend not to think too much about them because it hasn’t happened to you? Name any situation. We normally tend to brush things aside until they happen to us, or those who are close to us.

December was a rough month. First, Al Shabaab struck a bit too close to home. My cousin Zack and his girlfriend Kellie were among the passengers about to board the Kampala Coach bus when a grenade exploded, killing two people and injuring many.

I was at home having dinner with my brother when the call came. Zack sounded very panicked, which I’ve never seen him before coz he’s one of those guys who always has his shit in check and rarely betrays emotion. I could tell that it was bad. And it was. He sustained shrapnel injuries, including damage to the cornea in one eye. Kellie sustained a fractured leg and lost a lot of blood. However, I’m glad to report after a few surgeries, plenty of pizza, carrot cakes, flowers, chocolate, flavoured milk, ice cream, Heineken and lots of prayers that they’ve both been discharged from hospital and they’re making steady progress towards recovery.

After that incident, I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one who sat up and gave more thought to the increasing risk of extremist related attacks by Al-Shabaab which is threatening to destabilize the entire East African region. How much are Kenya’s security organs doing to curb the proliferation of small arms, as well as collecting and properly utilizing intelligence to prevent such incidents from occurring again? We all saw what happened when Kenya’s security network went to sleep before and during the 2007 elections. If solid measures are not taken immediately, who knows how many such incidents will occur in future?

This however is not, and should not be a front to target the Somali community in Kenya. I’m saying this because shortly after the bombing, some stupid hate speech against Somalis was made on Twitter by a few individuals who should know better given their *claimed* educational and professional qualifications. How many Somalis do you know? Have they ever bombed your house? Don’t be stupid. Think first before you make such remarks. One such individual is a well known conman who really ought to focus on getting his affairs in order before he’s hauled into court one of these fine days.

A few days later, another friend had an unfortunate accident caused by a reckless motorist who bumped her car off the road and sped off.  She rolled twice, but thankfully she emerged largely unscathed. The car however, was a write off.

December wasn’t done yet. Just last Saturday I paid my last respects to two very close friends of mine who were killed in an accident on the Nakuru/Naivasha highway. They were overtaking a car, when the driver of said car decided to speed up, thus not giving them room to pass. Left with no room to either overtake or return to their lane, they crashed head on into an oncoming vehicle and died instantly. The driver of the other car sped off from the scene.

Sidney and I were in Alliance High School together over a decade ago, although we only knew of each other then. Later we became neighbours in Kileleshwa and that’s when we really hit it off. There are some people you come across in life and you know right there and then that they are golden, truly one of a kind. Sido was one of them. Through him I met his neighbour Gilbert aka Gish, who also perished in the crash. I’m extremely sad that I will never see either of them again in this lifetime. They were both so full of potential and it is indeed unfortunate to see their young lives cut short before they had a chance to positively influence this country of ours. R.I.P. Sido & Gish. You may be gone but your memories will forever live on.

After these two accidents, I think we really ought to be more careful on the roads. Driving safely doesn’t just involve not drinking and driving, but trying to be more alert coz you never know which cretin you share the tarmac with.

Two Fridays ago, I had a meeting with my boss at 10am. There I was in town, running some errands and all that. Come 9:40am, I decided to take a cab to boss’s office instead of taking a City Hoppa which would have taken about 45 minutes. I must point out that many Nairobians walk in town as if they’re giving birth, uselessly ogling at things in shop windows that they can probably can’t afford. It’s good to be ambitious, lemme not put them down, but for Christ’s sake there are those of us always in a hurry so please avoid having mini-kamkunjis and romancing each other on the street! Therefore while walking in town, I tend to follow the path of least resistance.

I spotted a cab on the opposite side of the road and decided to vuka when voila, two pairs of stong arms grabbed me by the waist and shirt collar from either side. Thinking I was being mugged (I had my laptop and two phones on me) I tried to resist, elbowing and kicking said assailants. That was until I saw a fat woman in a Kanjo uniform giving instructions to the two men.

Ati kana-nyeta? Rusha huyo nyang’au dani!

 


 

And that’s how I found my diabs enskwonced inside a smelly City Council van, along with about 12 other hapless Nairobians. Apparently I was arrested for jaywalking aka kuvuka barabara pahali ambapo hakuna zebra crossing.

(Before you laugh, it’s happened to the best of us)

They detained me in the van for well over 45 minutes before one of them opened the door and declared

Soh tano tano ama mlale ndani!


As I’d just come from the ATM, I had a solid thao and a loose 50 bob note in my wallet. I wasn’t about to negotiate coz all I could think of was that I was already in shit at work, and I’d rather show up late with a solid excuse than not show up at all. I opened my wallet and handed over the thao note, foolishly expecting to receive change.

Kijana unadhani hapa ni kiosk? Toka na uende!


A thousand bob gone just like that. NKT!! Ninaomba serikali tafadhali pris, inirudishie at least soh tano. This is Janworry bana, things are thick!

Immediately I called the office and informed the boss’s PA of what had happened, politely requesting her to inform him in case he was pissed off. But instead she burst into a fit of laughter and told me to do that myself. How helpful. And after I told him, he also replied in a manner suggesting that he also had a good laugh at my unfortunate experience. Let’s see him laugh after I send him an invoice for that 1000 bob. Si it was incurred in the process of job related activities? Haiya?!

FOKOJEMBES OF THE MONTH

Honourable Members of Parliament

Kenya Parliament

Kenya Parliament

If ever there was a global award for callous insensitivity, it goes without say that Kenyan M-Pumbavus would win that award hands down. Calling them MPigs (for their gluttony) would be an insult to pigs, coz at least they have numerous benefits. If it’s not enough that they refuse to pay tax on their generous salaries and allowances while the common mwananchi does, they are massively corrupt. Some are well known powder pharmacists drug barons. But what pisses me off is how brazenly they decided to pull Kenya out of the Rome Statute that set up the International Criminal Court (ICC), thinking that it will save the Ocampo 6 from prosecution. The same idiots who overwhelmingly supported the new constitution and swore to uphold it. Did they consult the electorate before doing that? And while Kenyans starve due to drought and IDPs are still languishing in camps, they not only have the audacity to ask “Kenyans of goodwill” to contribute money towards the suspects’ defence funds, but they intend to use PUBLIC FUNDS to set up said defence funds to the tune of Ksh 250 MILLION per suspect??

They really must be a special kind of stupid.

Anything I say after this might just be termed as hate speech or incitement towards violence. All I’ll say is that I hope M-Pumbavus have been paying close attention to the goings on in Tunisia over the past week.

What’s on my Playlist?

Madonna – Nothing Fails

I know I haven’t updated this blog in a while. If you’ve missed out on what I’ve been up to, I did a guest post on DiaspoRadical and a collabo post with Raymond Chepkwony. Check them out if you haven’t already

Last week, Synovate (formerly Steadman) did a survey on internet usage in Kenya. According to their survey, this suffering, neglected blog is the 19th highest read blog in Kenya. Some say that the numbers were cooked (and I’m inclined to side with them) but that’s not my problem. Number 19 it is. Thank you readers.

A story of two CEOs:

Shujaa of the month.

Bob Collymore

CEO – Safaricom Ltd.

Bob Collymore

Bob Collymore

Bob Collymore took over as Safaricom CEO on 1st November 2010. The week before that, he picked up a comment I made about unsatisfactory service from Safaricom. I had some issues to do with internet connectivity on my phone, which had been “solved” twice before, only to crop up again. And getting through to Safaricom customer care means setting an alarm for 4am in the hope of getting through. So you can understand my frustration and why I didn’t bother to contact Safaricom customer care and chose instead to rant about it on Twitter.

collymore tweet

collymore tweet

Anyway, Collymore read my comment and asked me to email him. I thought about it for a couple of days before I decided to email him. Within an hour of sending the email, I was called up by a few customer care guys to enquire about the nature of my problem. They sorted it out, and called a few more times during the day to make sure that everything was working as it should.

I tweeted at Mr. Collymore and thanked him for sorting out my problem.

It didn’t end there. Collymore emailed me later in the night to find out if I was satisfied with the work that had been done, and asked me to contact him should the problem crop up again.

Can you spell I.M.P.R.E.S.S.E.D? I definitely was. Think about it this way. Just how often do CEOs of Kenyan companies, or senior management for that matter, interact with their customers on a one on one basis and give personal attention to their problems? Just how accessible is the average Kenyan CEO? We only see them on TV, the rest of the time they’re hidden behind tinted windows in their Mercedes S-Class cruising in absolute comfort from one important event to the next. So this really does go a long way. This is an example of what Kenyan CEOs should change about the way they run their companies and how they should interact with their customers.

For this, Bob Collymore gets my “Shujaa of the month” award. As one @BobQamz said, new brooms sweep clean. Kudos, Collymore. As Kibaki would say, endelea stairo hio hio.

Fokojembe of the month

Roman Abramovich

Chairman, Chelsea Football Club

Roman Abramovich

Roman Abramovich

 

It’s a well known fact that Roman Abramovich runs Chelsea FC with an iron fist, completely disregarding what anyone else thinks, especially the fans. Which is understandable, seeing as he’s spent hundreds of millions of pounds of his own money buying the club, players, building the world class training centre in Cobham and all that. However, his most recent decision to sack Assistant Manager Ray Wilkins, a Chelsea die-hard who’s spent close to four decades with the club as a player, coach and Assistant Manager was perhaps the worst after sacking Jose Mourinho back in 2007.

You don’t have to be a genius to see the direct connection between Ray’s sacking and the immediate slump in Chelsea’s recent performances. Swallow your pride, Roman, and get Ray back. Otherwise this season will end in disaster.

And he wonders why the fans are yet to compose a cheer song all these years later? Listen to the fans, Roman. Coz we were here before you came along, and we’ll be here long after you’re gone.

 

What’s on my Playlist?

Anthony David – Something about you.

I see crazy people

I see crazy people

A couple of recent incidents have led me to believe that mental illness is a very serious issue in Kenya and efforts need to be stepped up for people to have themselves checked. It’s a known fact that many people live with one sort of mental issue or the other without being aware of it.

Incident 1

Saturday 11:30am

I’ve just walked out of the exam room with an hour to spare. Either the paper was too easy or I’m too smart. I dunno. Since my house was undergoing a thorough cleaning at the hands of Njeri, my industrious cleaning lady, I saw no point in going back home just to get in her way. So I bought myself a copy of the Saturday Nation and headed to the pub to have breakfast. As I walked into the pub, the first person I met was an old friend, Otis. Dude was already well into his weekend, 4 double Kenya Canes & Krest already dispatched. He informed me that he was late for his exam and the lecturer wouldn’t let him do it, so he decided to marinate his liver instead.

Otis is a chap I’ve known for about 5 years. Very fat guy. We mostly meet in the pub and that’s about it. A drinking buddy. He’s very entertaining, one of the funniest men I’ve ever met in my life and his football knowledge is second to none. He’s good company until the point where he starts to pull major fibs, like how he (apparently) shagged a chic on the hood of a Vitz until the front suspension broke.

So I join him and have my breakfast. He says that he’s going for his ex-girlfriend’s wedding later in the afternoon and asked me to be his plus one. Before you conclude that I was about to put on a summer dress, sunglasses, a huge hat and high heels, apparently he was in shit with the ex’s fiancé coz he (apparently) made out with her in the club a few weeks previously and there was a price on his head. That’s why he wanted me to be his backup/wingman. So why attend the wedding? He said that he had initially refused but she (apparently) begged him to. Still a dumb reason if you ask me, but hey, that’s his problem. I didn’t mind the free booze and a chance to increase my social network, especially with a pretty lady or two since my love/sex life currently bears a striking resemblance with that of Cardinal John Njue.

Seeing as the day was young, and our ride was only coming through at about 4pm (apparently it was an evening wedding) I decided to have a drink as well. Double VAT69 & Coke kama kawaida. Otis and I chatted for a while, during which time raoz were thrown back and forth and we were getting tipsy fast. A pal of mine walked into the pub looking a bit down, so I asked him to join us and a cold Tusker was quickly sent over by the barman. I call this guy Semantics, coz of his expert mastery of the Queen’s language. He’s the kind of guy who quickly raises the IQ of a conversation, so why not have him join us before Otis decides to tell me how he (apparently) joined the mile high club with a hot muarabu stewardess aboard an Emirates flight to Kisumu city.

After a while, our cash ran out, so we decided to relocate to a cheaper pub where we could buy a mzinga of Kibao for 400 bob. A quick dash to M-Pesa and I was sorted. As we checked into the cheaper pub, I met a few guys I hadn’t seen in a while. I got carried away by small talk and only rejoined Otis & Semantics about 25 minutes later, during which time they were not only halfway down the Kibao, but there was another guy in the booth. Let’s call him Pete. I’d never met him before, but he seemed like a fresh chap and any friend of Otis/Semantics was a friend of mine. The more the merrier.

It’s interesting how a small gang somehow gathers upon spotting a mzinga on the table. Shortly afterwards, two other guys joined in. Let’s call them Karis and Karao. Karao is one of those loose chaps who somehow always shows up where there’s alcohol, while I’d never met Karis before. I was told that he was a friend of Semantics and Pete’s. You know what goes down at a sausage fest. Lots of talk about politics, sports, money that we don’t have, women, this that and the other. So it came as no surprise when the first mzinga ran out, so we ordered for two more, and the banter continued.

At about 3pm, it started raining heavily. I thought it made sense to stay in the bar and while it out. Otis thought otherwise. Without warning, he dashed his fat ass out of the bar and sprinted back to the first bar. I called him to find out just what was going on. He told me that it would be in my best interests to leave the bar as soon as I can. I didn’t know what was going on, so I sorted out the bill and ran in the rain too.

I caught up with Otis and asked him what the fuss was going on.

“Can’t you see it? Seriously? Archer kwani you’re blind?”

I really had absolutely no idea what he was on about. Coz one moment we’re all hanging out and the next minute he’s being all dramatic. It took an hour to get him to tell me what the hell was going on. Eventually he came clean and said that two of the guys on the table (Karao & Pete) were murderers and that I had sent them to kill him.

You can imagine my utter shock at hearing that allegation. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Was Otis someone that important that someone (let alone me) would want to kill him? Secondly, why would I want to kill him? Thirdly, if I did want to kill him, why then was I sitting in the pub with him at the precise moment he made the allegation? He claimed that he saw guns hidden underneath their shirts.

We got into an argument which quickly degraded into a scuffle (during which time someone privatized my beloved MP3 player). Otis said he’d beat me to death before I’d have the chance to kill him. He’s always thought me to be soft, but he didn’t see what was coming his way. I dragged him out of the pub and roughed him up a bit. No punches were thrown, no kicks or any such like jabs. All I did was to shake some sense into him.

A few minutes later, the two suspects arrived, accompanied by Semantics. I asked Otis to repeat his allegation in the presence of the guys, which he refused. I told them what he had accused them of. For good measure, I asked them for permission to frisk them and to have a look at their student ID cards. No prize for guessing what my search revealed. No hidden guns, and they were legit students. Otis kept talking shit, the guys wanted to beat him up, but I stopped them. Regardless of what had just gone down, Otis is my pal. We’d had a good afternoon before the drama, so I asked him to go his way and I go mine. Semantics, Pete and Karis also went their own way.

During the whole fracas, a chic pal (Jen) found me and told me to go over to her house after we were done scuffling. So I did. About an hour later, I received a call from Semantics saying that Otis had had an accident. Apparently he tripped while crossing the road and got hit by a car and broke his leg. Semantics also informed me that he had rushed Otis to Aga Khan hospital. That was about 8pm. I asked Jen to take me to Aga Khan since she had a car. We arrived there and the nurses pointed me in the direction of Otis’ ward. We walked in and his sister started hurling insults at me, while Otis was hurling accusations at the top of his voice. WTF? Apparently I sent the same two guys to ambush him, beat him up, throw him into a 6 foot ditch, fetch him out and rush him to hospital. In that order.

Tell me if that makes sense to you. Coz it sure as hell doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would I “order a hit” on someone, then go visit him in hospital later? I’m not anywhere near that sadistic. Anyway, Otis had some superficial injuries and was discharged the same night. No bruises or broken limbs.Relief.

Two weekends ago, I attended a concert at National Museum, where I ran into Otis’ close pal. When I went over to greet him, he angrily accused me of what happened to Otis.

“I’ve never known you to be a violent guy. Short tempered yes, but not violent. So tell me what happened”

Which I did, and I managed to convince him that I had nothing to do with Otis ending up in hospital. I didn’t even hit him during the scuffle. But he warned me to watch my back coz Otis has now put a price on my head.

Later on I was informed by several people, including Jen and the barman, that Otis is not exactly ok upstairs (maybe bipolar?) and has been known to pull such dramatic stunts before, as recently as the previous weekend.

How come I was the last to find out about this?

What’s on my playlist?

Memories – Kid Cudi

Guys, how many times has this happened to you? You meet a pretty chic at the club and start conversation. You buy her a drink, which over time becomes several drinks. More often than not, they’re expensive cocktails, but at the back of your mind, you assume that you’re safe since she seems to be responding well to your vibe. But you fail to notice her fiddling on her phone. A long time later, when your wallet has been reduced to denominations that only allow you to buy boiled eggs and kachumbari along Electric Avenue (Westi) a random chap appears from heaven knows where and kisses the girl you’re flirting with.

Oh, this is my boyfriend, Tom. Tom, this is Archer, I just met him.

And just like that, all your hopes of lateral satisfaction have been dashed. Looks like you’ll be holding the sausage hostage tonight. Not just that, but you’ve just become a victim of what I call kuchemsha maji. In literal terms, you’ve just boiled water for someone else to come and take a bath. Kenyan chics are just shameless like that.

Guys buying drinks for ladies at the pub has for years been perceived as the ideal conversation starter. Let’s face it, pick up lines are stale, childish, cheesy and don’t work, period. The most effective way to break the ice with that fine damsel that’s caught your eye is to walk up to her and be frank. I hear that ladies are drawn to bold men. Just walk up to her and introduce yourself.

Hi, my name is Archer and I think you’re very pretty. May I ask your name?

This will most times elicit a smile from said damsel. And if she’s sufficiently drawn to your bold approach, she’ll give you her name. Then, naturally, what follows next? Oftentimes it’s

May I buy you a drink?

At this point, I would like you to completely bench what you’ve seen in the movies, that the chic will graciously accept your kind offer, not because she can’t afford to buy one for herself, but because she is open to the idea of having a conversation with you.

Let’s narrow it down to the Kenyan scenario. Majority of chics will happily accept your drinks offer, regardless of whether or not she is welcome to your advances. And if she was drinking a Tusker Malt or a Smirnoff Ice (aka Panty dropper) when you met her, she immediately upgrades her taste as soon as you offer to buy her a drink. What’s up with that??? And she’ll gulp down the cocktails bought with your hard-earned cash knowing in her mind that as long as she keeps smiling and acting interested in your vibe (unless you’ve chapad ile mbaya with a face that only a mother can love, eg this chap). But there is absolutely no guarantee that she will hang around after that. And if you, like me, are waiting for the day a Kenyan chic will offer to buy you a drink, keep waiting.

Some argue that no man ever buys a girl a drink without strings attached. Which is somewhat true. Unless the guy is your pal and you know for sure that he has no lateral ambitions, all men have an agenda behind buying you a drink. But that’s as far as it goes. Some men use this approach to intoxicate the chic with the intention of chips fungaing her later on (aka chemical warfare). Others attempt to impress the chic with the wad of neatly stacked notes in his wallet. A more decent chapr who is genuinely interested in the chic will use that as an opportunity to flirt with her, with the honest intention of getting her number for a future rendezvous being his only agenda. Sadly, many chics can’t tell the difference.

This post was inspired by a conversation with a coupla pals of mine who are so pissed off at having spent loads of cash on buying girls drinks all night, then going home empty handed, without even getting a phone number. Or getting a fake number. One guy suggested resorting to extreme measures. He reckons that it’s cheaper in the long run to invest in a fleshlight . << NSFW! Think about it, you only need to carry enough money for your own pints and a little extra to throw a rao or two for your boys. You’ll have a good night regardless of what happens. If you meet a nice chic and the vibe checks in, well and good. Buy her a drink. If not, you can always go home and entertain yourself with a fitting substitute for the real thing, which won’t nag or look like an alien in the morning once the make up wears off. While I think this is a drastic move, I have to agree somewhat with his logic.

So guys, to avoid this situation happening to you, here are a few pointers as to how to approach the situation:

  1. First approach the girl and start conversation without buying her drink. Use your natural charisma. When and only when you’ve established that she is genuinely interested in making conversation with you, then offer to buy her a drink.
  2. Never buy a chic a drink with strings attached. Coz she will read through you in minutes and will mercilessly drive you to the brink of poverty before leaving you high and dry.
  3. If a girl who you fancy asks you to buy her a drink, flip the script on her. Tell her you’ll buy her a drink that you think she will enjoy, on condition that she buys you a drink that she thinks you’ll enjoy. That would actually be fun.
  4. If a random chic asks you to buy her a drink, she’s a broke ass gold digger. Tell her to Foxtrot Oscar. (Yaani to fcuk off)
  5. If you come across a chic sipping on some cheap liquor, don’t bother at all. Trust me.

And ladies, quit this cheap behaviour!

What’s on my Playlist?

Jamiroquai – Talulah (special dedication to Raymond Chepkwony – he knows why!) << If you haven’t read his blog yet, stop wasting your time here and run over there!

PS: Image borrowed from here:

Hi kiddo,

It’s me. I mean, you. From the future. Waaaaay into the future. Haven’t you always wished that you could have a sneak peek into the future and know what lies ahead for you? Well, that’s why I’m here. So sit down and take notes.

You’re going to high school in the next year. Actually, you’ll make it into the top national school in Kenya without breaking a sweat. But just coz you’re a nerd doesn’t mean you don’t have to study. Put in a bit more effort in high school, and you won’t have to do 3 years work in Form 4.

Girls are bad news, kiddo. Bad bad bad news! You will have your heart broken more times than you’ll remember. Kwanza this corrupt politician’s daughter you’ve been buying chocolate for lately will be the first. She’ll eat them up and throw you into the bin along with the wrappers. Don’t take girls too seriously. Being Mr. Nice Guy won’t get you anywhere with the ladies. It pays to be an arrogant bastard sometimes so toughen up! (for some weird reason which I fail to understand even today, girls are more attracted to bad boy types. Then they come crying to me after they’ve been thumped senseless. Girls are daft and confused. Don’t try to understand them!)

Your short temper will get you into lots of problems in future. You better get it in check as soon as you can.

Be good to mum. She’s all you have, and only when you get to my age will you realize the number of sacrifices that she’s made to give you the best life that you can have. When you get older, you’ll do crazy shit like pierce your ears, relax your hair. Actually you’ll do cornrows and grow dreadz as well. You’ll also skive the Benz and crash it into a ditch in the middle of the night. Avoid that incident. Particularly THAT incident. Coz she’ll beat you half to death with a frying pan and a stool. Appreciate her once in a while. Buy her a Celine Dion CD and she’ll love you a little more.

I know you think you’ll graduate at 22 and conquer the world. I’ve got bad news for you. You’ll be in your late 20s doing your 4th degree! Good thing about that is you’ll know a little more about most things than most guys. Coz you’re smart like that. And that’ll open many doors for you later. Kutangulia sio kufika.

Learn to play the guitar. It’ll get you more ladies than that silly piano. You’ll learn that the hard way from kid bro.

Learn not to keep grudges and be so vengeful. People will always fuck you over in life. It’s human nature. But nothing is ever that serious. Fura for a day or two and move on.

Be close to Joel & Tony. They’ll commit suicide at 21 and 20, and you’ll ask yourself for years to come if there was anything that you should have done differently. There is. Be there for them now. You’ll also lose other friends along the way (and your brother his girlfriend) so treasure the ones you have and live life to the fullest.

I guess that’s it. Everything that you do, do it to the best of your ability. Live, love, laugh a little. Hio tu.

AOB – Maneno ya Cess Mutungi

(Disclaimer: I have not been paid to write this!)

I’ve always been a big fan of Cess (personal issues aside) from way back when she used to host the morning show at Hot 96 with Ngatia. The two were a riot! Now she’s back hosting the afternoon show with Maqbul at Capital FM. These two have a sense of humour that’s so unique, how they’re able to think up the weirdest sh*t on their toes is amazing, in addition to more hilarious stuff like Cess doing the traffic report in Kao and throwing a bitchfit for Maqbul in a Naija accent.

Three weeks ago at Shamba ya Sandip (my former workplace) everyone’s so serious, trying to get some work done. I had my noise blocking earphones on listening to some DunguDungu (and ignoring the GM’s kelele mingi) Cess called up a guy who won 10k in some competition.

Cess: So, what do you do with yourself?

Caller: I am a tisha!

Cess: Really, mwarimo! So what do you teach, Mwalimu?

Caller: Akshuare I teash Chemistry, Mathematics, Woodwaka and sometimes Music.

Cess: So you’re the full metamorphic rocks dem a morph?

Caller: Ati?

Cess: Never mind.

After I picked myself up from the floor, (yes I fell over backwards laughing) I had a really hard time trying to explain the metamorphic rocks dem a morph joke to my workmates. They just didn’t get it. And I won’t try to explain it here coz you probably won’t get it either. (It’s a Fanta ad) Just bloody tune in to the Jam every weekday and you’ll get a massive dose of random madness and crazy humour. In my opinion, this is the best show on radio, with the wittiest, craziest pair on radio, and the only way to keep a smile on your face when stuck in traffic.

Now if only Cess would get onto Twitter! Wewe! Style up madam, this is the 21st Century!

What’s on my Playlist?

Chris Cornell – Scream

Back in South Africa, my housemates and I had what we called the Honour Board, which was a foolscap stuck onto the fridge, and we’d write down shrubs, oxymorons, dumb ass quotes and any other nonsense that came out of anyone’s mouth while in the confines of our flat. We had some very interesting conversations. A few months ago, I started another Honour Board on my kitchen wall, complete with a G.P.A-like grading system otherwise known as the U.P.A. (Ujinga Point Average) where individuals who attain a U.P.A. of 5.0 receive a lifetime pass.

Seeing as I’ve got nothing to post today I’ve decided to share the contents of this Honour Board. I shall not incriminate myself though, but I do feature somewhere in here. Some of these shrubs are too classic!

  1. I blindfolded my eyes! (as opposed to what, your ears?)
  2. **Angry at a man pissing on the side of the road** Look! He’s littering with himself!
  3. M3P Player   (MP3 player)
  4. Samba Mboy   (Shamba boy)
  5. Appi hending   (happy ending)
  6. How much is the spinach for 20 bob?
  7. Is 21 hours 9 o’clock?
  8. Why did the chicken cross the road? It wasn’t EGG-zactly sure!
  9. You’ll be videocameraring
  10. I’ve gone to buy some kaundey (kunde)
  11. If Karoocy was my wife, haki I’d chain her to a tree!
  12. Flying Skulod (Flying Squad)
  13. Pris bling the drinks!
  14. You’re just rarring there (???)
  15. Do you know who’s in my class with me? (as opposed to?)
  16. KRA ya UG (Uganda Revenue Authority?)
  17. Ketchup makes gold sssssssine! (shine)
  18. You don’t have a foice! (voice)
  19. Dairy Flesh (Dairy Fresh)
  20. The same jicks (chics)
  21. I expreksed it! (Expressed)
  22. Come I show you my secret prace! (secret place)
  23. Perverted perverts (OK I admit, I said this)
  24. Haerashes (eye lashes)
  25. Even kraibing (climbing)
  26. Massachuchets (Massachussetts)
  27. Parrarrero (Parallel)
  28. Falamingos (Flamingos)
  29. Stop taking my context out of concept!
  30. I pikad safely (fikad)
  31. You are a stoler who is thiefing things! (thief who is stealing things?)
  32. What is that, cererac? (Cerelac)
  33. I don’t like reaving him arone in my house
  34. Why were you not piliking my calls jana?
  35. Cockroshes (cockroaches)

And some dumb ass conversations…

J: When you chew handas, you don’t feel like a goat?

M: kwani when you drink, you feel like a fish?

J: I don’t drink

M: Ok, when you smoke, do you feel like a train?

——————————————————————————-

Q: Tell me a chic who has chapad like that?

A: a CHAPA-nese!

——————————————————————————–

**staring at a chic walking by just outside our flat**

Y: Now that’s what I call a nice ass. It’s very 3D

R: It’s 3D in a 2D kind of way. (how now?)

———————————————————————————

…and my personal favourite

J: Weeeeeh! Unanifanya nijipanue!

A: Kwani what do you have that I’ve never seen before?

M: Panty mpya!

Some people are special. Really.

What’s on my Playlist?

Playing Possum – Maxwell

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