Greetings Tovarishch,
I am Borris. I am residing inside Shamit’s mind. There are a lot of peoples here and I need to get out sometimes. So here I am. I write.
Comrade Shamit has come back to his homeland of Kenya. This not goot for me. I have very little patience and getting angry all the time. I give you example. Ve vere in town other day and ve valk on the sidevalk and I realize people move very slow. People moving so slow I vant to kick them in their buttocks to get out of my vay. In Soviet Russia, ve vud beat people vith bat until they learn their lesson and valk qvickly.
Oh, shut up Boris, you big brute. It’s me again. Sham, the dominant personality in my head. Most of the time. Apologies, they get out every now and then, the voices in my head. The Russian is annoying but he does have a point doesn’t he? So let’s see, now that he’s made me aware of it, I’m sure I can write something about it.
There are many, many things that irritate me. Many things. I could make a list as long as my arm, leg and other parts of my anatomy about these things. But I won't. One of the main ones is people walking slowly or people walking into me which both happen on a daily basis unless I’m in the hills somewhere. Nairobi city centre, it seems, is a town full of lonely people who want some sort of physical intimacy even if it’s as brief as a male virgins first time. It’s so strange the way bodies are rubbed, who knows whether innocently or not, on each other. Especially in matatus. I wonder, is it the lack of physical human contact that urges people to go out to complete strangers and rub their asses across one’s shoulders? I mean, I’d never rub my ass on someone’s shoulder. Because, you know, I’m polite and all.
Its funny then isn’t it? How Kenyans are about speed on the roads but very slow on the sidewalks.
Another amazing thing is how Kenyan pedestrians have eyes on the backs of their heads for a full circular range of visibility. This I can attest to for one reason that has happened to me a number of times. I’m walking along, trying to build momentum through the frictional fires of human bodies and inevitably I come to a close standstill behind a fat mama or two. I swerve to the right, and just like magic, they take two steps to the right. I drastically swerve to the left, and just like witchcraft, they take two steps to the left. Now, here I am, sweating from the excursion, seething with little fires of anger as the red mist descends. Here I am, interlocked in this furious dance for prime position on the pavement with two old, fat ladies who, on the surface, seem oblivious to my plight. But they know. I know they know. And I know that they know that I know they know. And that perverse pleasure of my pain makes them cackle like broomstick witches.
Another thing that really grinds my gears is how people in matatus wait until the last possible moment before they remove the money from their wallets, pockets or purses to pay the conductor with. Before I walk into a matatu, I always make sure I have the money in my hand. That way, I don’t have to go fishing for it in my pocket in a cramped ride. But here are these people. They enter the matatu, banging your head with a breast here or an ass cheek there. They sit down, get comfortable between people and then just wait. When the conductor finally asks them for their fare, they create irritating disruptions in seated order. Violent hands thrust into pockets and purses, blind fingers fishing for coin and paper. They lean onto me, sweat stinking of what has to be at least seven showerless days and breath smelling of the rotting carcases of animals that were made extinct in their mouths. All this would be avoided if only people had even the smallest bit of foresight and just prepared their fares a minute in advance.
One more thing before my lunch break is over and I have to get back to writing dull forms. Again, in matatus. What the hell is the hurry? You’re sitting in the back seat, I’m in the middle seat and I try getting out and you rush past me like the devils on your tail. Are those three seconds really that important to you? You’re the same person who’s going to get out of the matatu so quickly just to get on the street and walk like a slumping, rohypnol swallowing sloth.
So I smile. Because the alternative would be murder. And murder is bad. Or so I’ve heard. And restrain is good.
Until the rubber band snaps.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Saturday, 30 April 2011
The Hills of Chyulu
You’d think climbing a hill is easy wouldn’t you. Well then try to climb a Chyulu hill or two, would you. You’d think climbing a hill is just putting one foot in front of the other. Right. Left. Right? Wrong!
At 7am on Easter Friday, I found myself going to Chyulu hills in a car with total strangers. At 6pm on Easter Monday, I was back home having had a trip that will add a lot of colourful fuel to the fires of good memory.
So, three Germans, a Japanese and three Kenyans walk into the hills. Here’s the summarized version of what followed. Young, volcanic hills were seen, beer was drank, a makeshift grill was made of wire and wood, meat was cooked, potatoes were roasted, large caverns of the great lava tubes were explored in the unique and distinct darkness of the underground, bats were seen, rocks were collected from the deep, a hill was climbed, clouds were breathed in, rain dropped, rainbows lazily arched across the plains, night fell with the temperature, the moon rose with the sounds of animals, shooting stars were fired in the range of the milky way, wood was burned, day broke, a hill was climbed to catch the golden sun-drops in the cups of our camera eyes, an army of red ants attacked our camp in our absence, Kilimanjaro was spotted through the clouds, a small forested area was explored, another hill was climbed hacking our way through shoulder length grass with pangas, snakes were seen slithering, a buffalo emerged from the base of the forest line snorting in anger and fear, down we went, more beer was drunk, cheese, eggs, potatoes and zucchinis were chopped, fried and eaten, stories were told, philosophy was discussed, life was shared in silent moments under the jestful, winking stars. Then, when all the headlamps were off and that beautiful night silence snuck into my ears, I stood by my tent and saw the orange vein of Mombasa road sliding its way through the black skin of the Kenyan night. Morning came again, we ate, packed, left. Then all too soon, just like a good movie, the trip was over and the buildings of Nairobi replaced the hills of Chyulu.
In the air of the tall, silent places of the world, you feel the secrets of timeless nature resonating slowly. If you listen closely, you can hear and feel the old stories through the ambient songs that nature plays with the instrument of the earth. The cackle of a dry branch, the romantic whispers of the morning winds, the colours of the burning sky at dawn and dusk, the moistness of the heavy clouds shepherded in by light winds, the dancing trees, the shimmering of the shy stars. Being out in nature, there’s times you see something so simply beautiful and become overwhelmed within that instant. It’s strangely reminiscent to that moment when you realize that you’re in love. The excess, hardened emotions rusted around your heart melt away and you drop the heavy weapons of satire, sarcasm and social etiquette and blend into the serenity of natural intention.
The light of wondrous quixoticism is ignited and in those brittle moments, for me, all that's missing is someone special to stare at the shadows with.
We know very little about the world we live in. A lot of people say that I’m selfish for wanting to explore all the time. However, there is a simple justification to my travels. Henry David Thoreau once said
“How vain it is to sit down and write when you have not stood up to live.”
As a little bit of a writer and a little bit of an adventurer, I cannot place enough emphasis on how much wisdom these simple words possess probably because I don’t possess the simple words through which to place emphasis with.
Life is for living and giving. But you cannot give wisdom you don’t have and you cannot teach what you have not learned. So I say get up out of your little bubbles of ego and comfort. You can always make that comfortable butt print on your favourite chair again. I say walk through the valleys of nature and swim through the old memories of the earth. Become the geomancer. The prison of the office will forever bind you by the leash of the tie only if you let it.
We all have our free will. Use yours to be free.
You can check out the pictures on my facebook page. If you want. No one's holding a gun to your head. Yet.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Biashara and the Beast
If you’re not rich and connected like a spider web, starting up a business in Kenya is like shooting someone in the face at close range with a high powered shotgun and then meticulously going looking for answers in the red and grey biology of their mushy minds with a pair of rusty, inept tweezers when just asking the right question would have sufficed.
It’s a lot of unnecessary work leading to very little progress.
One of the biggest problems we have is when an arrogant person is put in a position of even the smallest authority (which happens quite a lot) and they, undeniably, look to make life difficult for you. And even if you know that the questions they’re asking and the procedures they’re making you follow are as unnecessary as a goldfish bowl without a goldfish, you can’t really do anything about it because you need a signature or an approval or some mundane little task carried out. It’s that dependence that becomes the magnifying glass to your metaphorical ant and boy oh boy do they want to burn you alive. And if you show any attitude whatsoever, you know you’ve pretty much got as much chance of escaping as you would have if you were left naked in the seventh circle of hell with a horny devil eyeing you with the perverse intentions of an involuntarily celibate rabbit in heat.
Progressive business is mummified in the red tape of bureaucracy.
Then come those three words said with all the affection of a cat with a dysfunctional catheter shoved up its urethra. No, not "I love you" but that famous line uttered by the greedy goblins of business, “Toa kitu kidogo” The amount of chai you’re asked for, you’d be sure they think you own a large tea plantation somewhere. Which wouldn’t be too off. Considering they had a fifty fifty percent chance in thinking that you owned one. Which you probably don’t. So they are a hundred percent wrong in the fifty percent chance they took. So eventually you’ve got to give it to them for the math and for trying. And by it I mean the money.
Corruption is no light matter. Especially when you don’t have heavy pockets. A lot of people in businesses I’ve witnessed pay people off. Whether it’s to pay the cops to stop harassing your business and customers, whether it’s to get certain permits approved or whether it’s to bring shipments of goods into the country faster than they should be.
Corruption is the messy lubrication of modern day business.
The worst thing is in some cases it’s totally unavoidable. If a policeman comes to your workplace and asks for a bribe and you don’t pay him and he takes you to jail for some false accusation and you spend a week in court sorting things out, who is going to run the business that puts the food on your family’s table? What do you do in such a situation? Pay the bribe? Record the policeman's actions with a secret camera? Go to jail and form a syndicate of experienced law breakers and challenge the broken system?
The Beast luxuriously sits back in its lair and licks it's private parts with delight as we work our collective asses off. It knows the problem exists perhaps because it’s championed the motion of corruption in business. We have campaigns that say “Corruption is Evil” and such but it’s almost laughable when members that make up The Beast sit back and watch all this happen almost as if they’re getting some sadistic pleasure out of the suffering of individuals such as myself who are trying to start up small, creative businesses.
To all those entrepreneurs who have successfully started up their businesses and are doing well despite all the odds that are thrown at you in the amphitheatre of Kenyan Business, kudos. Inspiration lies in your perseverance.
It’s a lot of unnecessary work leading to very little progress.
One of the biggest problems we have is when an arrogant person is put in a position of even the smallest authority (which happens quite a lot) and they, undeniably, look to make life difficult for you. And even if you know that the questions they’re asking and the procedures they’re making you follow are as unnecessary as a goldfish bowl without a goldfish, you can’t really do anything about it because you need a signature or an approval or some mundane little task carried out. It’s that dependence that becomes the magnifying glass to your metaphorical ant and boy oh boy do they want to burn you alive. And if you show any attitude whatsoever, you know you’ve pretty much got as much chance of escaping as you would have if you were left naked in the seventh circle of hell with a horny devil eyeing you with the perverse intentions of an involuntarily celibate rabbit in heat.
Progressive business is mummified in the red tape of bureaucracy.
Then come those three words said with all the affection of a cat with a dysfunctional catheter shoved up its urethra. No, not "I love you" but that famous line uttered by the greedy goblins of business, “Toa kitu kidogo” The amount of chai you’re asked for, you’d be sure they think you own a large tea plantation somewhere. Which wouldn’t be too off. Considering they had a fifty fifty percent chance in thinking that you owned one. Which you probably don’t. So they are a hundred percent wrong in the fifty percent chance they took. So eventually you’ve got to give it to them for the math and for trying. And by it I mean the money.
Corruption is no light matter. Especially when you don’t have heavy pockets. A lot of people in businesses I’ve witnessed pay people off. Whether it’s to pay the cops to stop harassing your business and customers, whether it’s to get certain permits approved or whether it’s to bring shipments of goods into the country faster than they should be.
Corruption is the messy lubrication of modern day business.
The worst thing is in some cases it’s totally unavoidable. If a policeman comes to your workplace and asks for a bribe and you don’t pay him and he takes you to jail for some false accusation and you spend a week in court sorting things out, who is going to run the business that puts the food on your family’s table? What do you do in such a situation? Pay the bribe? Record the policeman's actions with a secret camera? Go to jail and form a syndicate of experienced law breakers and challenge the broken system?
The Beast luxuriously sits back in its lair and licks it's private parts with delight as we work our collective asses off. It knows the problem exists perhaps because it’s championed the motion of corruption in business. We have campaigns that say “Corruption is Evil” and such but it’s almost laughable when members that make up The Beast sit back and watch all this happen almost as if they’re getting some sadistic pleasure out of the suffering of individuals such as myself who are trying to start up small, creative businesses.
To all those entrepreneurs who have successfully started up their businesses and are doing well despite all the odds that are thrown at you in the amphitheatre of Kenyan Business, kudos. Inspiration lies in your perseverance.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Soft moments
In the swirl of thoughts such as these, she walked into his life. That first time he saw her, the seconds seemed elastic, thick and elastic, almost stretching out. Silence awoke in that extended moment bringing with it a clarity he had never felt before. The first thing he noticed about her was her smile, which was strange because he knew that men usually notice the woman’s body first. A cliché, but her smile filled him with warmth, seemingly evaporating every problem he had ever had, another cliché. Her smile was a set of perfect white teeth enveloped by the soft crescents of thick, kissable oyster pink lips slightly curving into the fleshy mounds of her round cheeks. That was all her smile was, teeth and lips and cheeks. And yet, such a captivating sight. Such was her aura, so elegant that in her presence he could not help but smile, paying her the perfect compliment of wanting to make himself better.
Her hair was still wet from the rain outside, the deep black strands of straightened hair matted to her face ending in playful little curls just below her petit shoulders. Her face, in the glistening frame of wet hair was a picture of perfection. Her eyes were hazel brown and spacey, smiling in an innocent wonder, lightly watching everything around her.
Wearing a small sky blue jacket with a sunflower yellow top poking out slightly from under it, she looked like a fresh sunrise landscape. A stark contrast to the world raging outside. Her denim jeans grabbed her thighs so tight they made every man in the place look at her twice, much to the disgust of the wives and girlfriends by their sides. Her belt with its large shiny buckle, just a showpiece, not earning its keep whatsoever.
Women like her, he thought, never paid any attention to men like him. He was a jagged rock to her carved diamond. He was a shadow in the night time. Then when she walked past, the elastic second snapped and everything went back to real time. The red tapestries lazily hung, the rain drops busily rolled, the wallpaper of bottles brightly gleamed, the stereo softly sung, the coffee machine pitifully squealed, the waitress falsely smiled.
And outside, the thunder clapped, applauding all of our glimmering insignificance.
Her hair was still wet from the rain outside, the deep black strands of straightened hair matted to her face ending in playful little curls just below her petit shoulders. Her face, in the glistening frame of wet hair was a picture of perfection. Her eyes were hazel brown and spacey, smiling in an innocent wonder, lightly watching everything around her.
Wearing a small sky blue jacket with a sunflower yellow top poking out slightly from under it, she looked like a fresh sunrise landscape. A stark contrast to the world raging outside. Her denim jeans grabbed her thighs so tight they made every man in the place look at her twice, much to the disgust of the wives and girlfriends by their sides. Her belt with its large shiny buckle, just a showpiece, not earning its keep whatsoever.
Women like her, he thought, never paid any attention to men like him. He was a jagged rock to her carved diamond. He was a shadow in the night time. Then when she walked past, the elastic second snapped and everything went back to real time. The red tapestries lazily hung, the rain drops busily rolled, the wallpaper of bottles brightly gleamed, the stereo softly sung, the coffee machine pitifully squealed, the waitress falsely smiled.
And outside, the thunder clapped, applauding all of our glimmering insignificance.
#NairobiTweetup3
There are three things that I promised myself I would do when I got back to Kenya. The first was to make an effort to meet more people. The second was to pursue adventure in the great outdoors in this beautiful country of ours. The third, I cannot disclose here or now. We all have our little skeletonised secrets and I’ll keep mine for quiet company.
Anyway, I heard about the #NairobiTweetup about a month back and I couldn’t attend it due to climbing, crawling, and dying up Mount Kenya at the time. Then I heard about this one and decided to jump in. After all, it was a chance to meet new people and see things from a different perspective. I genuinely believe that networking is not only healthy for business but for individuals to grow as people as well. As a race, we can learn so much from one another if only we give ourselves the chance to open up and talk. I see the world very differently from how you may see it. Your world could be completely different. And I’d like to see it.
Anyway, back to the tweetup.
Mercury bar and lounge at ABC Place was the venue. I love that place, hate the prices. Starting at 3pm, it started at about 4pm. Usual timing here in Kenya. We’re all used to it. So I got there with a mild hangover from the night before and when it did get going, it was wonderful. The ambiance, the smiling faces of the pretty ladies, the friendliness of the entire group, the cold beer, the laid back aura, it was fantastic. We all introduced ourselves with our name, twitter handle and what we do and then the speakers were in the spotlight.
I’ve met Ahmed a couple of times to talk about a possible business venture and every time he comes up with new ideas. Even if we don’t go into business together I’m sure we’ll end up collaborating on a project sometime in the future. Ahmed reminds me of those cowboys in the old westerns. His gun would be his mouth and his ideas would be his brain bullets. He’s got enough charisma to carry a crowd. The thing with him is he’s not only a concept man, he actually puts things into practice and that’s a quality I believe is lacking in a lot of people. Ahmed spoke about his T-shirt business FluidTees and how it was born a little less than a year ago. He spoke about how it’s evolved through social media and how people can use these mediums to grow their businesses.
Next was Kirsty. Kirsty was wonderful to meet. She exudes passion for what she does. You can see it surrounding her. She’s a genuine soul who wants to help change the lives of thousands and she’s doing so through Vision Africa. Kirsty gave us stories about the children that the charity helps and how the kids are creative, clever and keen to learn. If she was nervous about giving the speech (which her blog says she was) then she did not show it at all. She spoke with the articulate power that passion lends to those with vision and hope. She and the Vision Africa website can say what they do better than I can so make sure you visit it at http://www.vision-africa.org/ and follow her on twitter @VisionAfrica for more information. Hopefully we're going to collaborate on setting up a football match with the kids so if anyone wants to jump in on that then do feel free.
The two speakers left us all with thoughts about growth, change and aid resonating in our minds. I learned a lot from just listening to them. I learned that there are many people out there willing to change this world we live in. I learned that there are individuals who sacrifice all the superficial little crap that builds up around our lives just to help other people and that has stayed with me. I learned that through passion and persistence, you can achieve your goals. Being the pessimist I am, I learned that there’s hope for humanity yet. The power of words is ours to harness. We must use it wisely.
The old cliché of every little helps comes to mind here so do your part, no matter how small it is. Or else I’ll hunt you down and probably cut you a little.
Anyway, I heard about the #NairobiTweetup about a month back and I couldn’t attend it due to climbing, crawling, and dying up Mount Kenya at the time. Then I heard about this one and decided to jump in. After all, it was a chance to meet new people and see things from a different perspective. I genuinely believe that networking is not only healthy for business but for individuals to grow as people as well. As a race, we can learn so much from one another if only we give ourselves the chance to open up and talk. I see the world very differently from how you may see it. Your world could be completely different. And I’d like to see it.
Anyway, back to the tweetup.
Mercury bar and lounge at ABC Place was the venue. I love that place, hate the prices. Starting at 3pm, it started at about 4pm. Usual timing here in Kenya. We’re all used to it. So I got there with a mild hangover from the night before and when it did get going, it was wonderful. The ambiance, the smiling faces of the pretty ladies, the friendliness of the entire group, the cold beer, the laid back aura, it was fantastic. We all introduced ourselves with our name, twitter handle and what we do and then the speakers were in the spotlight.
I’ve met Ahmed a couple of times to talk about a possible business venture and every time he comes up with new ideas. Even if we don’t go into business together I’m sure we’ll end up collaborating on a project sometime in the future. Ahmed reminds me of those cowboys in the old westerns. His gun would be his mouth and his ideas would be his brain bullets. He’s got enough charisma to carry a crowd. The thing with him is he’s not only a concept man, he actually puts things into practice and that’s a quality I believe is lacking in a lot of people. Ahmed spoke about his T-shirt business FluidTees and how it was born a little less than a year ago. He spoke about how it’s evolved through social media and how people can use these mediums to grow their businesses.
Next was Kirsty. Kirsty was wonderful to meet. She exudes passion for what she does. You can see it surrounding her. She’s a genuine soul who wants to help change the lives of thousands and she’s doing so through Vision Africa. Kirsty gave us stories about the children that the charity helps and how the kids are creative, clever and keen to learn. If she was nervous about giving the speech (which her blog says she was) then she did not show it at all. She spoke with the articulate power that passion lends to those with vision and hope. She and the Vision Africa website can say what they do better than I can so make sure you visit it at http://www.vision-africa.org/ and follow her on twitter @VisionAfrica for more information. Hopefully we're going to collaborate on setting up a football match with the kids so if anyone wants to jump in on that then do feel free.
The two speakers left us all with thoughts about growth, change and aid resonating in our minds. I learned a lot from just listening to them. I learned that there are many people out there willing to change this world we live in. I learned that there are individuals who sacrifice all the superficial little crap that builds up around our lives just to help other people and that has stayed with me. I learned that through passion and persistence, you can achieve your goals. Being the pessimist I am, I learned that there’s hope for humanity yet. The power of words is ours to harness. We must use it wisely.
The old cliché of every little helps comes to mind here so do your part, no matter how small it is. Or else I’ll hunt you down and probably cut you a little.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Rambo Bambo, Boom Boom
So, you’re going to laugh, and I’m going to hunt you down and kill you slowly, but up until the age of thirteen, I used to wish for magic powers every night before falling asleep. No, I didn’t check for a monster under the bed as well. That stopped when I was ten. Anyway, so it’s safe to say that I was quite obsessed with anything magical. I would even go as far as to say that I used to idolize that “Rambo bambo, boom boom” magician on KBC who would dazzle us with his little, colourful tricks and stories. I was amazed that someone could pull a pigeon out of a hat or make coins disappear. Imagine, whole coins, just gone!
Time passed and I grew older and less idealistic about the possibility of real magic actually existing. So I started reading about the application of practical magic. I read about the greats like Harry Houdini and Robert Houdin and a lot more. Before long, I started teaching myself small tricks with a crap little DIY Magic kit I had got as a present from some kind soul that took pity on my mislead ambitions.
Then I learned the word misdirection.
Every magician in the world trades with the currency of misdirection. A charismatic smile here, a grand gesture there and voila! A tiger appears as if from nowhere! Misdirection is all about controlling what the people see. It’s about distracting our goldfish focus from one thing to another without any real effort being made. The smooth transition of mind manipulation.
Now, every country needs its own circus. Ours comes in the form of our Parliament. And every circus needs its magic acts. Ours come in the form of Ministers of Parliament. Our politicians excel at their jobs as magicians. A wave of a hand and a thousand people die. A snap of a finger there and a hundred thousand people are instantly displaced. A wink of an eye and Ksh840, 000,000 vanishes without a trace. I bet the real trick was to fit all that money into one bag though but we all know certain politicians are good at packing stuff. Although they're usually rolling instead of stuffing.
Misdirection, it’s how our government works. Take a moment to think about it. The ostentatious, gold bearing, gun waving, fashionably inept Artur Brothers. The violence stemmed by the beheadings carried out by the Mungiki sect. All a way to keep the public engaged or scared while the political parties were plotting. And now the Ocampo6, merely scapegoats for politicians and distractions for the masses because they make entertaining news. The magician’s flair. The latest one being the increase in fuel price, the icing on the metaphorical shit cake they feed us.
I can just picture it now. Shadowy figures with gleaming eyes and wide brimmed smiles huddling in the dull rooms of our parliament building, while dark clouds inevitably loom around, whispering things like:
“Create a tangible problem that will affect mirrions so that they take the plessure off us.”
“But how?”
“Erementaly, my dear Wamalwa, Erementaly! We simply raise the fuel prices.”
“Ahh, then blame the problems in the Middle East?”
“Now you’re getting it. They’ll be too busy worrying about how to get home to realize what we’ve got planned.”
So we get engulfed by their magic tricks and we watch while they swindle our intelligence from under our prying noses. It’s not like we have a choice when it comes to matters such as fuel increases. Of course we’re going to worry. Raising the price of fuel has a snowball effect on the whole economy. It’s the catalyst. There was a time when magicians were considered to be the legions of Lucifer himself. And their penalty for practising magic was to be burned at the stake. I don't know about you but I say we should resurrect this ancient method. There’s no doubt that our politicians would give any other government in the world a run for their money when it comes to the art of misdirection. They’re just narcissistic thieves and liars at the end of the day stealing not only our money but also our attention.
And when your attention is stolen by the rohypnol of their perverse psychological prowess, you’re left on your back with your soft underbelly exposed and you’re vulnerable to the rape of your intelligence and wallet.
By the way, nowadays I’m used to coins disappearing. It’s just part of living with the magicians of Kenya.
Time passed and I grew older and less idealistic about the possibility of real magic actually existing. So I started reading about the application of practical magic. I read about the greats like Harry Houdini and Robert Houdin and a lot more. Before long, I started teaching myself small tricks with a crap little DIY Magic kit I had got as a present from some kind soul that took pity on my mislead ambitions.
Then I learned the word misdirection.
Every magician in the world trades with the currency of misdirection. A charismatic smile here, a grand gesture there and voila! A tiger appears as if from nowhere! Misdirection is all about controlling what the people see. It’s about distracting our goldfish focus from one thing to another without any real effort being made. The smooth transition of mind manipulation.
Now, every country needs its own circus. Ours comes in the form of our Parliament. And every circus needs its magic acts. Ours come in the form of Ministers of Parliament. Our politicians excel at their jobs as magicians. A wave of a hand and a thousand people die. A snap of a finger there and a hundred thousand people are instantly displaced. A wink of an eye and Ksh840, 000,000 vanishes without a trace. I bet the real trick was to fit all that money into one bag though but we all know certain politicians are good at packing stuff. Although they're usually rolling instead of stuffing.
Misdirection, it’s how our government works. Take a moment to think about it. The ostentatious, gold bearing, gun waving, fashionably inept Artur Brothers. The violence stemmed by the beheadings carried out by the Mungiki sect. All a way to keep the public engaged or scared while the political parties were plotting. And now the Ocampo6, merely scapegoats for politicians and distractions for the masses because they make entertaining news. The magician’s flair. The latest one being the increase in fuel price, the icing on the metaphorical shit cake they feed us.
I can just picture it now. Shadowy figures with gleaming eyes and wide brimmed smiles huddling in the dull rooms of our parliament building, while dark clouds inevitably loom around, whispering things like:
“Create a tangible problem that will affect mirrions so that they take the plessure off us.”
“But how?”
“Erementaly, my dear Wamalwa, Erementaly! We simply raise the fuel prices.”
“Ahh, then blame the problems in the Middle East?”
“Now you’re getting it. They’ll be too busy worrying about how to get home to realize what we’ve got planned.”
So we get engulfed by their magic tricks and we watch while they swindle our intelligence from under our prying noses. It’s not like we have a choice when it comes to matters such as fuel increases. Of course we’re going to worry. Raising the price of fuel has a snowball effect on the whole economy. It’s the catalyst. There was a time when magicians were considered to be the legions of Lucifer himself. And their penalty for practising magic was to be burned at the stake. I don't know about you but I say we should resurrect this ancient method. There’s no doubt that our politicians would give any other government in the world a run for their money when it comes to the art of misdirection. They’re just narcissistic thieves and liars at the end of the day stealing not only our money but also our attention.
And when your attention is stolen by the rohypnol of their perverse psychological prowess, you’re left on your back with your soft underbelly exposed and you’re vulnerable to the rape of your intelligence and wallet.
By the way, nowadays I’m used to coins disappearing. It’s just part of living with the magicians of Kenya.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Political Porn
“Up, down. Up, down, round and round. In, out. Scream and shout. Do it like they do in the movies. Yeah, talk dirty. Tell me things I want to hear. Ooh yeah, that’s it. That’s the way, keep it coming. Now let’s record it. Let’s put it on TV. Let’s print pictures. Don’t worry, no one will find out.”
I’m talking about lies and how they move in our society, you little perverts.
So there’s been a Kenyan media blackout proposed blocking out the Ocampo6 and anything related to them. Now here’s some harsh truth for you. Unfortunately, the blackout will not sell newspapers meaning that newspaper editors will have to make a moral decision and we all know where morals crawl to when it comes to money. The blackout won’t make millions tune into the terrestrial news channels in hope to catch what their favourite villains are up to today. People will sign onto the campaign but its human nature to seek controversy. It’s unfortunate but people thrive on the soap opera of politics to get away from their own lives for a while. It’s entertaining escapism. It’s what we love to hate. And in a twisted way it builds communities. People come together to hate the politicians and their inane methodologies.
We’re all guilty of perpetuating their presence in our society. If there was no demand for it then the media would simply stop covering these topics. But we all watch these walking testicles smear their lies-sperm on news. What’s more is we want to watch this catastrophe unravel because we’re all hypocrites deep down. We cannot fight our nature. We’re attracted to the troubles of other people’s lives.
It’s sadistic voyeurism.
It’s our intellectual masturbation while watching political pornography.
It’s the thrill of fighting and spitting in one corner and defending the other with bloodshed.
Personally, I think I’d rather know what the devil is doing instead of always waiting for an insidious sneak attack. Because that’s what they’ll do. I’m an advocate for the spreading of news though, not bullshit. Now some people are so stupid, when they hear about the building blocks of life, they think “LEGO” and those are the ones that are being targeted by these crafty politicians of ours. These are the people that are taken advantage of. The news should be broadcast; it’s up to the people to take what they want from it. And if the people are stupid enough to keep falling for old played out tricks then there’s absolutely no hope for a stable future.
Here’s a thought. Instead of a blackout, I propose a wipe-out. A complete overhaul of our government. We could do the generic things like march in large protest groups armed with placards. Or we could be creative and send ninjas with disease tipped shurikens to do the job. Or we could be brutal and unleash the UON warriors and Valkyries on them. Either way, we really should do something because this political porn is skull fucking our heads.
A media blackout doesn’t solve the problem. It simply ignores it. What say you?
I’m talking about lies and how they move in our society, you little perverts.
So there’s been a Kenyan media blackout proposed blocking out the Ocampo6 and anything related to them. Now here’s some harsh truth for you. Unfortunately, the blackout will not sell newspapers meaning that newspaper editors will have to make a moral decision and we all know where morals crawl to when it comes to money. The blackout won’t make millions tune into the terrestrial news channels in hope to catch what their favourite villains are up to today. People will sign onto the campaign but its human nature to seek controversy. It’s unfortunate but people thrive on the soap opera of politics to get away from their own lives for a while. It’s entertaining escapism. It’s what we love to hate. And in a twisted way it builds communities. People come together to hate the politicians and their inane methodologies.
We’re all guilty of perpetuating their presence in our society. If there was no demand for it then the media would simply stop covering these topics. But we all watch these walking testicles smear their lies-sperm on news. What’s more is we want to watch this catastrophe unravel because we’re all hypocrites deep down. We cannot fight our nature. We’re attracted to the troubles of other people’s lives.
It’s sadistic voyeurism.
It’s our intellectual masturbation while watching political pornography.
It’s the thrill of fighting and spitting in one corner and defending the other with bloodshed.
Personally, I think I’d rather know what the devil is doing instead of always waiting for an insidious sneak attack. Because that’s what they’ll do. I’m an advocate for the spreading of news though, not bullshit. Now some people are so stupid, when they hear about the building blocks of life, they think “LEGO” and those are the ones that are being targeted by these crafty politicians of ours. These are the people that are taken advantage of. The news should be broadcast; it’s up to the people to take what they want from it. And if the people are stupid enough to keep falling for old played out tricks then there’s absolutely no hope for a stable future.
Here’s a thought. Instead of a blackout, I propose a wipe-out. A complete overhaul of our government. We could do the generic things like march in large protest groups armed with placards. Or we could be creative and send ninjas with disease tipped shurikens to do the job. Or we could be brutal and unleash the UON warriors and Valkyries on them. Either way, we really should do something because this political porn is skull fucking our heads.
A media blackout doesn’t solve the problem. It simply ignores it. What say you?
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