Monday, February 20, 2012


In the months leading up to the elections, cracks are showing up again based on political ideologies. Wait a minute, I will rephrase that. In the lead up to the elections, cracks are showing up in the Kenyan social fabric based on political PERSONALITIES. The first sentence assumed that Kenyan politics is evolved enough to sustain ideologies. The closest you would have to look to understand this is the fact that each election cycle will always see the conception and birth of new political outfits and alliances. Go on. Think about it. Who are you supporting? And what are you basing it on?

Anyway back to the cracks. The amount of rhetoric hitting the airwaves has me so worried. The question continuously posed is whether or not things will be as bad as they were last time. And more and more people seem confident that we know better. I keep hearing how we know better and that we will never be divided as a country again. But still the vitriol is poured and the bile continues to affect us as a nation.

I think the lessons that we learnt in 2007/8 are being forgotten. I watched 'Kenya's Darkest Hour' the other day and I honestly couldn't believe that that was the same country I call home. I had forgotten all the stuff that had taken place. The screams, blood and tears. My baby niece should be a constant reminder of that though. She was born just before that period. The offspring of a Luo mother and a Kikuyu father. The drive to the hospital was fraught with anxiety as we tried to figure out who would be a victim of the gangs patrolling the streets. Thankfully we encountered no such gangs.

This morning someone said something really profound. He said as Kenyans we confuse activity for achievement. Think about it. I was blown away. From a personal standpoint I think this makes immense sense.How so? Scour social media today for all the pages and groups that purport to bring Kenyans together. They are there by the dozens. Well meaning individuals who bring people together to talk about how awesome it is to be Kenyan. That is the activity and there is a lot of it. We are so far from achievement.

Thursday, February 16, 2012


Articles, blogposts and prayers have been written about how social media has changed the very face of dating. That is as obvious as the fact that Njuguna Ndung'u is a deer caught in mathematical headlights. (Slight deviation here: WORST CENTRAL BANK GOVERNOR IN AFRICA? Really? Wow. That must really suck. How do you get worse ratings than Zimbabwe? Do they even have a Central bank or there's some random dude in a basement who gets up and guesses whichever exchange rate they are going to use? Egyptian CB governor was dodging bullets and still did better than you? Oh well.)

So now relationships begin on the web as opposed to in clubs after bacchanalian sprees.(look it up. Usiguess ati unafikiria unajua ni nini nimesema.) I miss the good old days when you'd hit on a girl simply because she lived next door to you hence you had no choice. She was the closest thing so you had to make do. Despite the overbite that would make it possible for her to eat stuff in the kitchen from the comfort of the living room. It was a far simpler time. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

But it's all new now. The worst bit? Everyone is a veritable celeb in some corner of the planet. You know what they say about everyone having someone? Social media has kinda made that true. Evidence? Remember that girl with the overbite? Check her pics on fb now. There are hundreds of guys drooling after her. Whispering creepy nothings and telling her how she's God's gift to the scorched savannah. It happens. Beauty is in the eye of the cross-eyed beholder.

Ok so you have talked for weeks and in that time he/she has charmed your socks off. And now you have no socks on and you are planning that first meeting. After late nights of chat and whispered conversations on the phone, it's finally that time to put your money where your mouth is. You are curious about whether she looks like her voice or whether she smells like her words (flowery words jameni) etc etc. Here's a simple guide about that first meeting.

1. Meet somewhere really dark and isolated. Why? So you can get your head hacked off and your guts harvested by some random collector. (I really have to stop watching some of these college-based horror movies). But for real. Make it a wide open space. Why? So you can get a whole lot of space to practice the martial arts move you saw on telly.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012


I haven't been single in a very very long time.Lets just put it this way, the last time I was single, Kenya had no IDP's or a Prime Minister and Mike Sonko hadn't entered into our collective conscience as a synonym to stupidity. Yes it was that long ago. But what happened? you may ask. Well it all started thirteen years ago. I was young. Fresh from a journey of enlightenment on the lofty slopes of the Himalayas in Kathmandu. After months of herding mountain goats and fights with sherpas, I was finally on the way to a better life. On those freezing slopes, I had met the love of my life.

And it all came to a screeching halt a couple of days ago. She busted me in bed with another girl. But it wasn't what it looked like. Here's the true story. The true Hollywood story. There had been a storm. A bone chilling storm. And this woman had stumbled into my tent seeking, nay, needing refuge.And so I had nursed her back to warmth. The rest, as they say, is history. Lets just say what happened next involves a very sensitive appendage undergoing frost bite and getting stuck to a metal pipe.

So now I'm trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to see if anything can be salvaged from this broken heart. It's a totally different dating landscape from what I remember. Back then girls weren't so tall. But then again that would be because they used to be kids so that came with the territory.

I haven't had any expectations. It's simple. I just thought things would kinda work themselves out then years later I would tell my kids this funny story about how I met their mother. Hmmm. Where have I seen that before? But alas! it hasn't been smooth sailing. Apparently women have no idea about what they want. I asked around and here is the idea of the ideal man. In brackets are the ratings.

1. Tall (which i am...if she's a midget), dark (extra melanin to go around) and handsome (ummm...errrrr...ask my mum) I actually got a rough average figure. basically you gotta be taller than her so she can check how clean you keep your nostrils. It is the standard by which hygiene is judged.

2. Must be sensitive which means he can listen to you (Understanding is optional), cry when touched (not touched by someone but rather when overcome by emotion) and to share their feelings (which can never be whiny or sad.) So you gotta be a talkative guy who listens.It doesn't cut the mustard when you nod, smile and say she is absolutely right despite the fact that she's told you that same story 53425 times before.

3. Must be in touch with his feminine side (which means he can cook but not be accustomed to singing along to Avril Lavigne or dancing with hands above his head). Research has found that women are 23 times more likely to run over a guy who dances with his hands over his head than not. This is actual research undertaken by real people and not at all by figments of my imagination fuelled by a long day.

4. Should be a manly man(meaning he should have all the positive attributes of masculinity without the grossness, farts, belching and scratching).This means he should be available for football, rugby and wrestling and is totally banned from knowing anyone who plays tennis.

5. Must be amazing in the sack. (Am I? How would I know? I've never slept with myself. Uliza watu wengine) But the caveat here is that he should be good but not TOO good otherwise he takes lessons and extra tuition which might not be good for the relationship.

So it's official I'm doomed to a life of singlehood because apparently women have no idea what they want. Actually they do. The only problem is that it's just not me. *sits in the corner and sucks my thumb* I got my eyes out for cupid. That fat little bastard is going down.