It’s sad to think that we live in a world where there are men whose only problem is dealing with a morning erection and a bladder full of fermenting piss and women whose only problem is the cold throne of a morning toilet seat.
On Sunday night we had an attempted break in at my house. At 1am, I hear scrambling on the roof of the house and, with an old Maasai knife in hand, I cautiously explored a little bit. The sounds wouldn’t stop like they usually do when there are rats running around in the ceiling and the thuds were pretty heavy. So I straight away called my neighbour to check out the house from the vantage point of his second floor bedroom which overlooks our roof. Ten minutes later I get a call back saying that he couldn’t see anyone on the roof but not to go outside because another neighbour had seen two people at the gate and he said they were fooling around with the lock and trying to get in.
It’s about then that my Maasai knife starts to look pretty obsolete in my hand. I mean, it’s not like I’m a ninja. Neither can I dodge bullets Matrix-style if the situation came to shots being fired. And despite popular belief, I’m not actually capable of bouncing bullets off my chest. I know, I’m sorry to break your preconceptions of my immortality and ruin the image of my perfection in your minds. The best I could probably do is run away wailing and screaming and find a nice, sturdy table to hide under. Forever. Anyway, the point is, if they had guns then God and the Devil would probably be fiercely arguing right about now on who gets to keep my soul and torture it for all eternity. Because I’m popular like that.
So my friend calls the cops and he’s pretty influential with the cops who foot patrol our area which means they were surprisingly quick in their arrival. Quick is a relative term. The African “quick” means “painfully, snail-fully, anger inducingly slow” anywhere else in the world. Upon their arrival, they assume control of the situation. Not that there was a situation to control anymore seeing as the thieves had run away by now, probably because they sensed the latent superhuman in me slowly surfacing. And when I say assume control, I mean that they say “let’s sit in the car and patrol the area”. So we did. They came without a car, inevitably, so we took my neighbours car around the area. It’s about 3am now and every time the cops see some people walking on the street they say it’s the thieves. Which is ridiculous. Anyway, we didn’t find anyone so we went back home to sleep the sleep of the uneasy. Every sound after that was accentuated by paranoia.
I started thinking about things after that. I was angry. My mind was boiling with brain bubbles of red rage telling me how dare these thieves try break into our house? Who do they think they are to walk in here and try taking the things that don’t belong to them and put our lives in danger? Then as the rage cooled and whats-as-close-to-my-level-headedness prevailed, I started seeing things in a different light. Perhaps these thugs were left with no choice in life but to rob people to put food on the table for their hungry kids. Maybe they once used to be honest, hardworking and honourable men who were put in the worst of situations. Maybe their world was torn apart in 2008. Maybe they’d lost everything. Maybe they’d tried to find employment but were thwarted at every effort because of their ethnicity, political alliances, lack of education or other factors such as these. Maybe they’d run small businesses which were targeted by corrupt government officials for bribes. Maybe they’d had enough of always being the victim. You must realize, I don’t condone their actions but what would you do if you had starving kids at home and had tried every honest way to feed them?
The state of things in this country is something we must look at under the magnifying glass of liberalism. A layer of understanding must be added to our minds so that we can filter the things we see and experience through it otherwise we become this writhing bacterial infection of callous humanity that spreads hate and intolerance.
The state of things in this country, as I’ve said before, all break down to how ineffectively it’s being led. We have politicians who are in the lucrative business of making thieves of us all. We rob each other to pay the government the bribes, high taxes and all the other excess that comes with living in Kenya. If our very leaders are thieves then that philosophy is definitely going to soak into the people they lead. And if our leaders will not help the people that need help in favour of stuffing their pockets then what hope do we have?
African governments deal their people blood and bullets instead of bread and butter. It remains that politics is the scar on the beautiful face of Africa.
To the thieves out there, yes you tried to rob me and we’ll clash, probably violently, if you try again. You tried to rob me but I understand why. And I’m working for you. I’m trying to change shit for you. I know that doesn’t help you in your current predicament but what else can I say but that I’m trying.
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
#Kushinda
One thing I know about Kenyans is our ability to persevere despite any odds. I’ve seen this time and again. From the creative innovation that comes from our slums in bids for people to merely survive to the dedication that is consistently shown by our runners on the world stage to the back breaking work that millions smilingly go back to day after day without complain. Perseverance, it’s in our blood. Blood that even runs through the veins of the most powerful man on the planet, the president of the United States. But for us, back here in Kenya, perseverance doesn’t always mean a good thing because we have this swarm of politicians who are just as persistent to ruin this wonderful country. And they go at that task like wild dogs humping on a full moon night.
Every morning, these politicians are probably woken up at nine by the dwarves that fan them, with feathers plucked from miserable peacocks, all night long. After detaching themselves from all their sadomasochistic paraphernalia, they probably brush their teeth with bristles made from the silky fur from the underside of the nearly extinct leopard. Then they probably shower for an hour with the freshest, cleanest water that could save thousands from dying of thirst in Northern Province. Then they probably slip into large, warm robes that were expertly crafted from the soft, supple skins of the dead children that they’ve left in their wake. Then they probably sit down at the breakfast table to a meal of epic proportions and devour everything but the table before being carried back upstairs on a large platform by four men holding up each corner like for the Persian princesses of old. Then they probably stuff their fat rolls and skin flaps into tight, fine cut suits to hide their alienesque bodies and put on their energy masks so we don’t see their true faces. Wouldn’t it be weird if Kibaki pulled off his energy mask and was really Baron Silas Greenback? Actually wait, it wouldn’t be that weird because it’s either him or Avram Grant competing for that title. Then they probably drink two shots of expensive liquor and one cup of coffee followed by two shots of expensive liquor again. Then, and only then, are they probably ready to go to what they call work and what I call the overly dramatic soap opera of their lives. Like those horny Spanish ones that come on TV. And if my calculations are correct, a politician that lives in a soap opera is probably dirtier than one that doesn’t. These politicians then sit in their office chairs, each one controlling one body part of The Beast.
Now here’s the thing though. Despite these bile-inducing politicians because let's face it, they're the bulk of our problems. Despite being either pitied or alienated by the rest of the world for being a third world country, despite disputes between ethnic tribes tearing the social fabric of this country apart, despite poverty, despite the angel of death hovering over our city, despite droughts, despite floods, despite the murderous thieves that are our police officers prowling the streets, despite disease in its worst form, despite all this we’re still, as Charlie Sheen so eloquently put it, winning. And I’ll tell you why.
Kenya has one of the best mobile phone infrastructures in the world which is an amazing achievement in itself. And when it comes to creativity and intelligence, I honestly believe that there’s more talent in our slums than in most universities around the world. And although I am not a massive advocate of these roads and flyovers that are being built, I can still understand the vision behind it and that vision, that’s what matters. The urge to be better. Our economy is growing and because of that more can be invested into helping the needy. Not through government but through private organizations. Our people are becoming restless living under this constant oppression. They’re starting to ask questions. Not enough of them, yet. There is a new Kenya being born from the grime. It’s messy and slow, yes. But the thrusts of passionate youthful revolt are helping it along.
We, the wananchi, well some of us anyway, have not been put off and that’s the most important thing. We’ve not been beaten down till we can’t get up anymore. We’re still persevering and just because of that fact, we’re still winning.
Now let's start doing something more. Let's start the #Kushinda movement. This is a call to arms for all artists, bloggers, writers, singers etc. It's time we pool together and harness our abilities to throw artistic spears at The Beast in an attempt to maim it. To weaken it. To eventually bring it down with the ropes of hope.
Let's win.
Every morning, these politicians are probably woken up at nine by the dwarves that fan them, with feathers plucked from miserable peacocks, all night long. After detaching themselves from all their sadomasochistic paraphernalia, they probably brush their teeth with bristles made from the silky fur from the underside of the nearly extinct leopard. Then they probably shower for an hour with the freshest, cleanest water that could save thousands from dying of thirst in Northern Province. Then they probably slip into large, warm robes that were expertly crafted from the soft, supple skins of the dead children that they’ve left in their wake. Then they probably sit down at the breakfast table to a meal of epic proportions and devour everything but the table before being carried back upstairs on a large platform by four men holding up each corner like for the Persian princesses of old. Then they probably stuff their fat rolls and skin flaps into tight, fine cut suits to hide their alienesque bodies and put on their energy masks so we don’t see their true faces. Wouldn’t it be weird if Kibaki pulled off his energy mask and was really Baron Silas Greenback? Actually wait, it wouldn’t be that weird because it’s either him or Avram Grant competing for that title. Then they probably drink two shots of expensive liquor and one cup of coffee followed by two shots of expensive liquor again. Then, and only then, are they probably ready to go to what they call work and what I call the overly dramatic soap opera of their lives. Like those horny Spanish ones that come on TV. And if my calculations are correct, a politician that lives in a soap opera is probably dirtier than one that doesn’t. These politicians then sit in their office chairs, each one controlling one body part of The Beast.
Now here’s the thing though. Despite these bile-inducing politicians because let's face it, they're the bulk of our problems. Despite being either pitied or alienated by the rest of the world for being a third world country, despite disputes between ethnic tribes tearing the social fabric of this country apart, despite poverty, despite the angel of death hovering over our city, despite droughts, despite floods, despite the murderous thieves that are our police officers prowling the streets, despite disease in its worst form, despite all this we’re still, as Charlie Sheen so eloquently put it, winning. And I’ll tell you why.
Kenya has one of the best mobile phone infrastructures in the world which is an amazing achievement in itself. And when it comes to creativity and intelligence, I honestly believe that there’s more talent in our slums than in most universities around the world. And although I am not a massive advocate of these roads and flyovers that are being built, I can still understand the vision behind it and that vision, that’s what matters. The urge to be better. Our economy is growing and because of that more can be invested into helping the needy. Not through government but through private organizations. Our people are becoming restless living under this constant oppression. They’re starting to ask questions. Not enough of them, yet. There is a new Kenya being born from the grime. It’s messy and slow, yes. But the thrusts of passionate youthful revolt are helping it along.
We, the wananchi, well some of us anyway, have not been put off and that’s the most important thing. We’ve not been beaten down till we can’t get up anymore. We’re still persevering and just because of that fact, we’re still winning.
Now let's start doing something more. Let's start the #Kushinda movement. This is a call to arms for all artists, bloggers, writers, singers etc. It's time we pool together and harness our abilities to throw artistic spears at The Beast in an attempt to maim it. To weaken it. To eventually bring it down with the ropes of hope.
Let's win.
Friday, 18 March 2011
Suicide by Media
So they say that dolphins are the only other creatures that have sex for pleasure. Now, I bet that there are some of you absolute freaks out there who have subsequently idly wondered what it would be like to have sex with a dolphin. I urge you, don’t. You’ll have animal rights groups coming all over you. And not in a good way. Not that I’ve tried or anything. But wait, think about it. That’s exactly what our politicians do. They hear about someone else enjoying themselves and they go and try to f**k them. Each and every time without fail. Without compromise. Without shame.
I mean, something must have broken these damn politicians. I wonder if something rattles within their skulls when they move. Perhaps it wasn’t printed “Caution: Fragile Brains” in big red letters on their packaging boxes. Or perhaps they were assembled by their just as faulty predecessors.
His story repeats history.
In the comments section of one of my articles, the question of how we can change things was posed. Now I don’t have all the answers and I’m still asking questions but here’s one of my perceptions on this matter of how we can change and what we can do. When I was studying in the UK, I witnessed, as everyone does, how the media are incredibly powerful at keeping politicians in check. One slip of the tongue, one bad decision, one excursion into eccentricity and they’re hounded like the dogs of war they are. The media is a god like entity which punishes those it deems guilty of transgression with lightning bolts of sky television and shitstorms of full page newspaper articles. How exactly does it punish them you ask? Well it definitely doesn’t yank them over its collective thighs and spank them with a paddle on their naked buttocks. Although they’d probably enjoy that, the sadomasochistic bastards that they are. What it does do is reveal every little gritty and damaging detail about the politician and their surreptitious dealings to the public via any medium available. They look to destroy the reputations of politicians and those guilty by association. Granted that the media simply do this for higher viewers and ratings and to sell trashy newspapers but the methodology is quite simple and effective at keeping the beasts that we’ve elected into power on short, electric-shock giving leashes.
Now, I am a person who genuinely believes that a squadron of misanthropic journalists equipped with scuba tanks full of expensive whiskey could probably change this world. How? By finding and presenting the Truth. Not the dumbed down version of the truth, not the truth that has been filtered through the corruption crusted offices of parliament before reaching our newspapers or televisions, not the soap opera truth that makes celebrities of politicians. Just the brutal, ulcer inducing, scrotal sweat releasing, exciting, vindicating Truth. Bila bribery, bila brush ups or modification of any sort.
A lot of you may be saying that our media is not powerful enough to deal with the juggernaut of the government and I agree. Anything that is said in our newspapers has to be very premeditated so as not to spark the ire of the Beast. We all saw what happened to Standard group and KTN back in 2006.
So how do we combat this? If our media is not powerful enough, if legal means will not push politicians into justice, if the masses are too racially and tribally fragmented to stand together against the Beast then what are we to do? If the fight is not a fair one then what do we do? My answer? It’s up to us. The bloggers, the online personas, the street level activists, the celebrities, the pissed off individuals, the disillusioned, the discarded, the unafraid. It’s up to us to create questions. It’s up to us to create awareness. It’s up to us to use mediums such as Facebook, Twitter, blogs, web portals, cell phones, virtual messengers, personal websites, online magazines, independent newspapers to spread the word of injustice that happens on the streets of everyday life. It’s up to us to get the message out to the masses because the day for carrier pigeons is long gone. We underestimate the power of the word. If the Beast is going to crack down on our media then let us all become one giant media house. They can’t get us all. Spread the Truth my little Truth spreaders.
I know I talk about political injustices a lot but I believe we shouldn’t be silent just for the sake of social acceptance or politically induced fear. Anyway, I’ll leave you with an abstract idea I say we should work towards. We should have a national public holiday where we get to align all our politicians along a brick wall, blindfold them and then hurl abuse at them all day long. Something like a firing squad but instead of bullets we’ll be using large amounts of ineloquent profanities. Maybe they will be restrained. But if they behave and just stand there and take it then we won’t have to shackle them which would be more humane. I think public humiliation on such a level would be great motivation for them to start doing their jobs. Or commit suicide. I don’t know, it may work. I suppose we won’t know until we try.
I mean, something must have broken these damn politicians. I wonder if something rattles within their skulls when they move. Perhaps it wasn’t printed “Caution: Fragile Brains” in big red letters on their packaging boxes. Or perhaps they were assembled by their just as faulty predecessors.
His story repeats history.
In the comments section of one of my articles, the question of how we can change things was posed. Now I don’t have all the answers and I’m still asking questions but here’s one of my perceptions on this matter of how we can change and what we can do. When I was studying in the UK, I witnessed, as everyone does, how the media are incredibly powerful at keeping politicians in check. One slip of the tongue, one bad decision, one excursion into eccentricity and they’re hounded like the dogs of war they are. The media is a god like entity which punishes those it deems guilty of transgression with lightning bolts of sky television and shitstorms of full page newspaper articles. How exactly does it punish them you ask? Well it definitely doesn’t yank them over its collective thighs and spank them with a paddle on their naked buttocks. Although they’d probably enjoy that, the sadomasochistic bastards that they are. What it does do is reveal every little gritty and damaging detail about the politician and their surreptitious dealings to the public via any medium available. They look to destroy the reputations of politicians and those guilty by association. Granted that the media simply do this for higher viewers and ratings and to sell trashy newspapers but the methodology is quite simple and effective at keeping the beasts that we’ve elected into power on short, electric-shock giving leashes.
Now, I am a person who genuinely believes that a squadron of misanthropic journalists equipped with scuba tanks full of expensive whiskey could probably change this world. How? By finding and presenting the Truth. Not the dumbed down version of the truth, not the truth that has been filtered through the corruption crusted offices of parliament before reaching our newspapers or televisions, not the soap opera truth that makes celebrities of politicians. Just the brutal, ulcer inducing, scrotal sweat releasing, exciting, vindicating Truth. Bila bribery, bila brush ups or modification of any sort.
A lot of you may be saying that our media is not powerful enough to deal with the juggernaut of the government and I agree. Anything that is said in our newspapers has to be very premeditated so as not to spark the ire of the Beast. We all saw what happened to Standard group and KTN back in 2006.
So how do we combat this? If our media is not powerful enough, if legal means will not push politicians into justice, if the masses are too racially and tribally fragmented to stand together against the Beast then what are we to do? If the fight is not a fair one then what do we do? My answer? It’s up to us. The bloggers, the online personas, the street level activists, the celebrities, the pissed off individuals, the disillusioned, the discarded, the unafraid. It’s up to us to create questions. It’s up to us to create awareness. It’s up to us to use mediums such as Facebook, Twitter, blogs, web portals, cell phones, virtual messengers, personal websites, online magazines, independent newspapers to spread the word of injustice that happens on the streets of everyday life. It’s up to us to get the message out to the masses because the day for carrier pigeons is long gone. We underestimate the power of the word. If the Beast is going to crack down on our media then let us all become one giant media house. They can’t get us all. Spread the Truth my little Truth spreaders.
I know I talk about political injustices a lot but I believe we shouldn’t be silent just for the sake of social acceptance or politically induced fear. Anyway, I’ll leave you with an abstract idea I say we should work towards. We should have a national public holiday where we get to align all our politicians along a brick wall, blindfold them and then hurl abuse at them all day long. Something like a firing squad but instead of bullets we’ll be using large amounts of ineloquent profanities. Maybe they will be restrained. But if they behave and just stand there and take it then we won’t have to shackle them which would be more humane. I think public humiliation on such a level would be great motivation for them to start doing their jobs. Or commit suicide. I don’t know, it may work. I suppose we won’t know until we try.
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