WASEE, TUVUKENI BO...ODA

Jaguar’s song has been ringing in my head for some reason. Not because Jaguar is known for his lyrical prowess but because of the “vuka border” bit. We have all started looking at the borders rather jealously. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a proud Kenyan. The thought of living amongst polite, Swahili spewing Tanzanians tickles me. Uganda is not an option. I can’t live in a country where walking to work means I’ll end up in the hospital. I also find it annoying that they try to convince me to say ‘Champala’ when it’s clearly written Kampala. We can read dummies. Fork jembe.



But the last week has just been a sad one to be Kenyan. While everyone was busy awwwing over the royal wedding and high fiving each other over the death of some random guy who likes to play with matches, things started falling apart. We are a country under siege. The Ugandans are trying to steal our islands. It’s like a weird case of toys at the playground. Uganda is that petulant kid who just wants stuff that doesn’t belong to them. Up north, Ethiopians are busy massacring Turkana residents and our response to this is to write a protest note. What in heaven’s name is a protest note? I’m imagining the president tore off a paper from his exercise book and quickly scrawled, “By the way tumejamabout hii story ya kudedisha wasee wetu. Sareni.”



At this rate the Tanzanians will claim Mt. Kenya for themselves knowing that all we’ll do is just give them the stink eye. Don’t get me started on Somalia which is just waiting to pounce on Eastleigh for direct market from their pirates of the Caribbean shenanigans. The only way we know we have a government is when something is going wrong between the coalition partners. And when it gets to that point, the crap has usually hit the fan.

I’m tempted to think that if Osama had been found in Kenya, there would have issues about consultation on whether or not he should have been shot or captured. Then a commission of inquiry would have been established to look into the conduct of the head of the armed forces. And the Kenyan muslim population would have gone into crazy mode saying they are being harassed while the Human Rights Commission would have been mad about the extra judicial killing. It would have been six weeks of PNU this and ODM that before we figure out that it was a goat that had a bullet in its head.

Another front that had me in stitches was the health sector. You will all remember when the professor came back he made it his life mission to revamp the health system. A few months later and the grand design is out for everyone to see. They made the morgue bigger and scrapped morgue fees. That just warms your heart, doesn’t it? Why care for the living when we are all headed to the grave? Prevention is better than cure but preparation is the best. Prepare to push up daisies Kenyans.So I’ve been thinking about packing my bags and ‘vukaing’ the border.

My bags are packed and I’m flipping a six sided coin to figure out which country I can move to. I can stand Uganda’s beatings and the tedium of being Tanzanian. I can probably start a gym regime by running around Mogadishu to avoid bombs. The walk across the border has started but it has to be done on foot because there is no fuel. But then again food is very expensive so walking is out of the question. So maybe I’m stuck. Damn.