#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.

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.

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?

Cloudy day thoughts

A chance meeting. Eyes lock for elastic seconds. Two subtle smiles. Talk into the wet warm nights. Months pass. Fall in lust. Listen to each other’s music collections. Travel to places made all the more exotic by each other’s company. More months pass. Fall in love. Move in. Become accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies. Wake up to watch each other just sleep. Eat each others cooked foods. Save money. Share money. Even more months pass. Arguments begin. Dissonance kicks in. Fights fuelled by bitter love. Say things we don’t mean to hurt hearts. Irreparable sentences. Break up. Storm out. Heartbreak. Jealousy. Then silence. Après the love storm.

Sparing with love, tongues wage wars that words can’t finish. Using the shield of romance and the sword of lust.

I tend to think that understanding the other sex is not for us humankind. Animals understand the other sex better than we ever will. The bottom line for them is procreation. Sex to produce. “I bang you, you bang out babies, we bang again.” Tosha gari.

For us, there’s so much more involved in understanding the opposite sex in a relationship. Games both sexes play with each other. Cheating, lying, break ups. Lust for others. That wandering eye. Ego. Power play over each other. Domination. Romantic notions. Complications of emotion. The ugly green monster of jealousy that resides in the dominant dark parts of the mind. Absence. Distance. Viewpoints. Little irritating qualities.

To understand love we need to have felt it first. To understand how to love, we need to let go of our inhibitions, we need to let go of our past experiences, we need to break free from our pre-programmed perceptions of what the movies, books and others tell us love is. When someone does everything for you and you’re not feeling them anymore, just tell them instead of letting them linger on in the misery of maybe.

We’ll never move forward if we sit in the comfortable depression of the past.

Just some thoughts I wrote, one cloudy day.

#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.

An excerpt from a short story I wrote a while ago

In the swirl of things,there exists in tempestuous times such deliberate deviousness, such merciless moments of magnificent betrayal of hope where men can do nothing but stand back and marvel at the astronomical machinations of the universe that we so trivially label as fate. In these times, I am tempted to fall victim to the existence of a higher force pulling the strings from the hollow firmaments above. In these times, the shell of our world shrivels away and crumbles around us leaving us staring fearfully into the core of the abyss that is a cold fluid realization, a realization that our actions, however extreme on the spectrum of behaviour, are indeed insignificant in the grand schemata of the swirl of things.

*******

Ever since I committed the sin of naïve youth, I have made vehement claims of my fearlessness towards death. I have learned in an undeserved, long life that those who make such claims are often those who think about and fear death the most, for you cannot be fearless of something without first acknowledging it to great extents. Now being here, breathing in my last breaths, I find that I spent too much time worrying and not enough simply living. This feeling I feel at this moment, it’s like ice rolling over sensitive teeth, that first stab of hot, intense pain followed by its thin, cold, watery fingers stretching to the very roots. This feeling, it tells me that the loneliness of my life was much more overwhelming than anything that death could bring, that death is just the pinnacle of an unlived life. I have made too many mistakes, kept too many people at a distance because of my actions. Alas, salvation seems to be the only route forward from here. They say that if you lay down your confessions on your death bed, and are truly repentant, all is forgiven and you are accepted into the ranks of heaven.

This, to me, has always seemed a childish notion beyond any reason whatsoever and still I write these words in one final attempt to redeem myself in the eyes of a higher force that may or may not exist. Although I fear no one will forgive me, I must try…I must try to save myself for you see, I am a coward and I am fearful of death in great measures. Or rather, I am fearful of the mortality that I will be relegated to if I do not lay claims to my devious doings for I would rather live on and be remembered for my villainy than die out completely.

So this is my confession, this is my golden ticket through the pearly gates of heaven. This is my bitter tasting elixir of immortality. Or, on a darker note, this is the evidence that paves my very entry to the dark, twisted shadows of hell.

CAH Unit Vs. Iron Man Ocampo

Layyyddieeesss and Genttlllemennnn,

Today’s encounter is a Six on One contest which will see the CAH (Crimes Against Humanity) Unit take on Iron Man Ocampo in the steel cage match of the ICC. To the thousands in attendance and the millions watching all over the world, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to get Hagueddddd!

If the CAH Unit win then they go free but if Iron Man Ocampo wins, then they must pray not to let the soap slip out of their corrupt little paws. Now, let’s take a closer look at our contestants, shall we?

Uhuru Kenyatta aka Doobz aka Dopey aka The Red Eyed Wanderer.
Height: Very, very high
Weight class: Middleweight
Special moves: Smokes his victims out. Quite literally.

William Ruto aka The Intimidator aka Will.I.Am.R.U.To?
Height: Usually 6 something but when his head gets bigger then it’s all relative.
Weight class: Heavyweight.
Special moves: Sweet talking his way through the Rift. As deadly as a Venus fly trap. (Yes, a plant analogy, since he’s got a degree in Botany. Also makes me wonder who Uhuru’s dealer is.)

Hussein Ali aka Major Pain
Height: Unspecified. He doesn’t like to ask or answer questions. And I don’t like to get shot.
Weight class: Heavyweight
Special moves: Likes the policy of shoot first, asks questions much, much later.

Henry Kosgey aka The Resigned One aka Konfused Kosgey
Height: Taller than the hair of his moustache, but not taller than a tree in the garden of Ruto’s Botany.
Weight class: Middleweight
Special moves: Perpetual look of confusion draws his opponents/victims in then he probably kicks them in the nuts and runs away screaming.

Francis Muthaura aka The Schemer aka The Really, Really Old Guard
Height: 5 foot something
Weight class: Cruiserweight old age section
Special moves: Usually just simply outlives his opponents.

Joshua Arap Sang aka The Instigator aka Little Voice aka Handshake Break aka The Nairobi Pea
Height: Giving the Dwarves in the Mines of Moria competition for record shortness.
Weight class: Super duper cruiserweight. If it’s windy in the Netherlands, they’re going to have to put him on a string and pull him along like a kite.
Special moves: Floats like a butterfly, stings like when you pee.

And in the other corner, their opponent…

Luis Moreno Ocampo aka the Beast of Buenos Aries aka The Iron Man
Height: As tall as the scales of justice.
Weight class: Right now? As heavy as Kenya.
Special moves: Prosecuting opponents with the precision of a stealth bomber.

This Six on One showdown is a one of a kind encounter. The CAH Unit will throw everything they’ve got (probably Sang) at The Beast of Buenos Aries.

And now, a word from our sponsors. We’ll be back Sangly.

CAH Unit Vs Iron Man Ocampo, tragically sponsored by the lives of 1,300 Kenyans.

CAH Unit training and defence tactics, proudly sponsored by the donations of thousands of blind Kenyan sheep.