My Musings

The rain drums on. It comes down in sheets, hammering windows with fluctuating fury as gusts of wind come and go. I’m situated in a leather seat in a glitzy pub. 

One of those establishments that are small enough to fill/sell-out, and still maintain a unique ambiance. I have a snifter in one hand, and a book in the other. 

Directly opposite is a mural of a nondescript man staring at me blankly. I’m drawn to the mural because I’m growing listless by the minute. I’ve been waiting on someone going on for 30 minutes. 

Gradually, I find myself, drifting to the music, 1950's American Jazz crooned by a raspy melodious male voice. The stiff drink, the music and the book fail at stoking my spirits. I have barely ploughed through a chapter of the book, but I know I’m done. 

My concentration is fragmented. Averse to dog-eared book pages, I sear my current page in my mind, and put the book down. I swivel my frame, and turn my attention to the wall high windows laden with rainwater trickling down lazily on the outside. The window beckons to me. In answer, I walk to it. 
The window overlooks a construction site that is a hive of industry. Three floors up looking down, the men toiling away appear minuscule. A few wheelbarrows are trundled to and fro transporting an assortment of materials. 
The men steering the wheelbarrows look beaten. Their spirits appear whipped either by the rain or the work. 
They trudge across the construction site listlessly, almost moving on instinct. For protection against the rain that pours relentlessly, they have on what appears to be transparent raincoats. 

The contract must be running behind time for the men to be subjected to toiling under such dreary weather. I’m interrupted from my observation by the trill of my phone. My prospect has arrived. I’m here to make a pitch. 
To put my nose to the grindstone just like the construction site laborers, albeit with unmatched comfort.

Spells and Treats

Hospitals invariably remind me of my mortality, of the fickleness of life. We run through a spell of good health, and somehow take this good fortune for granted. Until maladies come knocking. Maladies come laden with information. 

They remind us of good diets, the bad taste of medicine and how prayerful we should be. When a malady calls, it's no time for half measures. Not when pathogens have infested my body and I can almost feel them doing cartwheels in me. 

I feel doubly ill because I'm peculiarly hot in July weather until I get to the hospital waiting area and see faces of other would be patients. I sober up real quick. I feel like a sissy. I almost want to turn back and leave, go get some painkiller. Or head home to brew some ginger concoction and call it a day.

At length, I stifle the thought of retreating. Seeing as I'm already here, I might as well see a doctor. After jumping through procedural hoops, 30 minutes later I’m attended to by a doctor. 
Thing is you never appreciate doctors enough until some disease gets the better of you. When you feel like some external force has annexed your body and is doing battle with your soul. 

During such times, the mere sight of a doctor in his white garb and a stethoscope draped on a shoulder instills hope. You feel like you've halved your journey to recovery. 

If you concentrate hard enough, you will feel the pathogens breaking rank, scampering, running for the hills.

Can you tell I'm single?

One of the most insanely frustrating things about women is their constant need for reassurance. No, you're not fat. If you were fat you wouldn't be able to fit into that size 2 dress. And yes, you look good. Guys wouldn't be giving you free shit if you were ugly.
So here it is for the last time...You're not fat! You're not ugly! You know it and I know it so stop asking.

What makes you think I care about the kind of day that your sister's co-worker's dog had? Your sister is nice enough, but I don't know her co-worker and I certainly don't know her dog. So why the fuck are you telling me this story? I don't care! If you have something worth talking about, then I'll enjoy engaging you in meaningful conversation. 
But before you start talking to me about some of the insane frivolous shit that you talk to your girlfriends about, first ask yourself "Does this have a point?". Because if it doesn't I'm just going to smile, and nod, and zone out and you'll get mad because I'm not listening to your retarded shit!

So men are pigs because they stare at your boobs. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you're wearing a skin tight low cut shirt that has 'Bebe' printed across your boobs... one 'Be' per boob. It's totally unfair that you have to put up with guys staring at you all the time just because you like to look sexy. And boo hoo, it's so hard for you to meet a nice guy. 
Well actually it isn't, because the shoulder you are crying on belongs to a nice guy. He's the one that puts up with all your stupid shit. And yet you somehow end up with all the assholes... Could it be because you're holding out for a six foot tall alpha-male with a trust fund?

Yeah, so you finally sold a freezer to an Eskimo. Congratulations on being a hot sales rep. We're all very proud of you for having a nice ass while the rest of us actually have to work for a living. And we're all so excited to see your new diamond jewelry. Your ability to date another rich fucktard that will shower you with expensive bobbles is commendable. And I'll be so surprised and sorry for you when he dumps you for the next hot girl because I really thought that materialistic trophy bagger was in love with you. 

But I'm happy to hear that you wrecked your fifth car while multi-tasking between your cell phone and doing your make up in the mirror. Your dedication to enforcing the stereotype of women drivers is nothing short of awe inspiring. 

Disclaimer: the contents of the note do not in any way mirror events in my life, past or present. 

John Doe Money Problems

John Doe finds himself with more month than money. He is infinitely hemorrhaging cash. He lives in the fast lane.

His attempts to stem the flow have yielded dismal results. His state of affairs is coming to a head. Pensively, he cups his chin in one hand, elbow perched on his knee and mulls over his predicament.

At face value, no one can smell a whiff of his pickle. He labours hard to keep up appearances but keeping up appearances costs money, money he doesn’t have. Deep down, he knows he needs to take action at present. But pride has infested him to the core, even infiltrating his rationale.

He kicks the can down the road. Save decision making for another day. Today, he lives a little. He is perfecting procrastination. He knows very well this is not fate.

It is a situation of his own making. Yet he lets it keep unwinding like a ball of string. He has a date with doom. He can smell it, but can’t snuff it out. Doom he can rein in. But he lets it simmer. In a rare moment of clarity, he realizes he is at a crossroads in life.

He knows that if he stays on this path, he’ll plummet into an abyss of no return. His will, is weak. He is loosing this battle. He reckons he needs someone. He needs help. A shrink, a pastor, a soothsayer ....anybody.

Recently, I attended a financial literacy seminar. One of those shindigs where you turn up raring to soak up transformative wisdom. Some 30-odd attendees were milling about the room exchanging small talk when I arrived. A well patronized event. I sat at the back of the room pen and pad in hand, drenched in expectation.

The presenters never really told us anything we haven't heard before. They were preaching to the choir. Unfortunately, we are too set in our ways. As soon as the din from all the advise dies, we slide back to our routines. Surrender to our urge to splurge. Pursue immediate gratification at the expense of tomorrow.

To navigate yourself to wealth takes more than words. You. Need. To. Act. You have to do it for self. Put in that work. Make sacrifices. There is no short cut. No magic bullet. You save up. Invest wisely. Have a budget. Stay disciplined. All the boring stuff we all know, yet shun with reckless abandon

Battle of wits

 My take is that flattening a paunch boils down to a battle of wits. As we age, things change. We exercise less (what with all our busy schedules), most of us sit for extended lengths of time at the workplace, in our cars in traffic and then sit some more at home (sedentary lives will be the end of us), we imbibe alcohol more often (well some of us) because networks have to be built and nursed; and to crown it all we enjoy hearty three square meals a day (Isn’t that why we work so hard anyway?).

In time, we realize our tummies bulging. We make half hearted mental notes to cut down on fatty foods and account for all food groups in our diet but we never quite come round to it. With effort, we at times observe this noble intent for a day or two, but inertia always gets the best of us.

Every now and then, you will see someone with a distended tummy which scares the living daylights out of you because you imagine that is your fate, and you are hurtling to it. Again, you make feeble promises to yourself, about the gym, your diet and your drink. Feeble promises that fall on rocky ground, never to sprout.

The fact is as we grow old, we burn less fat because we metabolize less. So the body stocks up more fat than it burns depending on how active we are.

If you're reading this, I bet you know someone on a religious exercise routine, planning to get into one or quit one already.

Benevolently, I will hazard to share four tips I “try” to adhere to in my fitness journey;
1). You don’t need regimens to help you rein in your carbohydrate binge. Simply watch what you eat, how much you eat, and the time of day you eat (A generous serving of Ugali at 10.00pm is an own goal for sure. What use is all that energy in your sleep?).

2). Take alcohol, but consider low-carb drinks (whisky and its ilk perhaps).

3). Exercise. Exercise. Exercise.  If you can’t hit the gym, running won’t cost you a dime. Once in awhile, alight from matatus two stages from your actual stage and walk home. It won’t kill you.

4). Tame your taste buds. Stay away from processed sugar. Hard I know, but it is an acquired taste. You can acquire a new one.

Not a foolproof list by any chance, but an effort nonetheless.

Patriotism in armband craze

I'm always amazed by the ingenuity of Kenyans. Browse around you for things uniquely Kenyan. I bet you will point out a marvel that speaks volumes about the creative genius behind it.

I will steer away from influencing your observation by way of hints. Recently, I had a sit-down with a Zimbabwean acquaintance in Kenya on business. A real bubbly fella with an opinion on everything under the sun. We met for tipple. He is a whisky guy, so before us was a bottle of Chivas. The conversation got off to a shaky start, I guess we were sizing each other up prodding at our comfort threshold.

Gradually, the liquor took the edge off and our conversation rambled on with relative ease. But there is so much one can ask about Uncle Bob. Each response I got sounded like something I've seen in a #someonetell tantrum on Twitter. In time, we exhausted politics, business and were onto the social realm. As our conversation progressed, we got to discussing peculiarities.

It was here that my acquaintance mentioned the armband, themed around the Kenyan flag. So he says to me, he has been to several African countries but it’s only in Kenya that he has come across this flag adorned armband craze.

I posed for a moment to reflect. Indeed, I have seen people rock those armbands as I make my everyday rounds but put very little thought into it. That revelation left me a tad patriotic. I made a mental note to acquire the subject armband next time I spot them on sale.

Look, don't you just feel a tinge when you see our runners donning garb tailored out of our national flag colors trouncing competition? Or better yet our rugby sevens team in their flag
t-shirts pulverizing competition cheered on by a handful of Kenyan fans, who drown any other noise in the stadia hysterically waving our flag?

Well, I don’t know what gives you that feel good kick about being Kenyan, whatever it is, rock it with pride today.


Courtesy of Richard Miriti

The Hustle Continues

Navigating the narrow sidewalks of downtown Nairobi can be quite a chore in the evenings. It tests your patience, what with all the weaving and sashaying you have to endure around a heaving web of humanity. There is hardly space for two generous strides.

So you walk with a heightened awareness of your surrounding. You just have to. Not unless you want to take on a legion of hawkers Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan style should you innocuously step on their wares.

No amount of apologies ever works with this bunch. So you tread with caution. The spaces between tarmac, and the shop entrances are a treasure trove of stories. You need only observe, and like a ball of string the stories unravel. You will see distraught shopkeepers nursing forlorn looks reminiscing of yesteryear's when order dictated customers could walk into their shops unimpeded.

A look that decries the extortion that is the license fees they pay to the city council for business. Licenses that should guarantee their customers an easy access to transact in their shops or window shops in the very least. Then we have the hawkers who've annexed city pavements, converting them into sprawling markets. They cause a racket that competes resolutely with the blaring horns of matatus and touts issuing catcalls to passersby.

The hawkers do raving business, displaying anything from counterfeit cutlery to mtumba. You may frown at their wanton disregard of the rights of walkers in town, but you’ve got to acknowledge their industry. The hawkers are forever edgy. Fidgety to a fault. They cast stares hither and thither always on the ready to spring at the sight of council askaris who pounce unannounced every now and then.

All hell breaks loose when the askaris strike. Hawkers run for it, leaving their lean display of wares behind. Once in a while, the askaris land a catch in the melee that ensues. Onlookers stare blankly from a safe distance as the askaris gleefully haul the few unfortunate culprits, and a mosaic of abandoned wares into the back of an ever hungry run down van that never tires of swallowing.

In the aftermath, this enclave of the city dips into a lull for a few minutes, quickly springing to life soon after.


Courtesy of Richard Miriti

Diary of a newly married village girl.

Monday:
Now home from honeymoon and settled in our new home. It's fun to cook for Tim. Today I made an angel food cake and the recipe said, "beat 12 eggs separately."
Well, I didn't have enough bowls to do that, so I had to borrow enough bowls
to beat the eggs in. The cake turned out Fine though.

Tuesday:
We wanted a fruit salad for supper. The recipe said, "serve without dressing." So I didn't dress. But Tim happened to bring a friend home for supper that night. They both looked so startled when I served them, I think it was the salad.

Wednesday:
I decided to serve rice and found a recipe which said, "wash thoroughly before steaming the rice." So I heated some water and took a bath before steaming the rice. Sounded kinda silly in the middle of the week. I can't say it improved the rice anyhow.

Thursday:
Today Tim asked for salad again. I tried a new recipe. It said, prepare ingredients, then toss on a bed of lettuce one hour before serving." I hunted all over the place for a garden and when I got one I tossed my salad into the bed of lettuce and stood over there for over one
hour so the dog would not take it. Tim came over and asked if I felt all right. I wonder
why? He must be stressed at work, I'll try and be supportive.

Friday:
Today I found an easy recipe for cookies. It said, "put all ingredients in a bowl and beat it." beat it I did, to my mum's place. There must have been something wrong with the recipe, because when I came back home again, it looked the same as when I left it.

Saturday:
Tim went shopping today and brought home a chicken. He asked me to dress it for Sunday. I'm sure I don't know how hens dress for Sunday. I never noticed back on the farm, but I found an old doll dress and it's little cute shoes. I thought the hen looked really cute. When Tim saw it, he started counting to ten. Either he was really stressed because of his work, or he wanted the chicken to dance. When I asked him what was wrong he started crying and shouting out "why me? why me?". It has to be his job.

Who Am I?

My name is Amos but people call me Sean. My ethnic background explains a lot of who I am, and the values that I have developed. I grew up with a large family because my parents took the religious decree, go out and fill the earth, literally. I have 2 brothers and 5 sisters, but not such a big family when everyone is all grown up. Growing up in this environment helped mold me into the man that I have become today.


My family is religious and we went to church every week. Even as a child I attended church schooling where they taught us about our religion, manners and place in society, which in turn educated me about where I came from. However, now I am not that religious and don't go to church often because I believe it is becoming corrupted and commercialized. My family and my parents in particular, provided me with the morals that I hold to be true. I am very grateful of the way my parents brought me up. They always told me do to others as you would like them to do to you. That phrase is what I keep in mind but in a more corrupted manner, ‘do unto others before they do unto you.’


I haven't always done the right thing, but I have learned from it when I think back. The foundation has been set for me so I just have to build upon it.
I literally eat, sleep, watch a bit of telly, go on the net and study a little. I sometimes try to fit in a bit of exercise once in a while but I'm terribly unfit most of the time. I enjoy going on the internet but sometimes i get so addicted i find myself on for hours and hours but basically that’s what IT people do.


I enjoy being at home with my family but sometimes i prefer to be outside and away for a while.

My room is often quite messy because i tend to immediately throw things on my bed or floor when i arrive home from work or a day out with friends. I rarely hang up my clothes when i take them off and you will find socks and other stuff lying around the floor. That’s just me.

I love African American comedy, to be precise Dave Chappelle, Steve Harvey and Kat Williams, mainly because it’s a good laugh and the ideas are so random and different, its so ridiculously funny. I can go on and on about the set of comedians but i think that's just going to bore you to death considering that you also know them very well, hopefully. Like everyone, i have friends. (thank God). However, i don't have many close friends, only a small group of close friends that i trust and know very well.


I am me. I am Sean, my culture and environment has shaped who I am, for good and for bad. I battle some stereotypes and try to be different. I try not to judge others before I know them. I am neither perfect, nor do I try to be. Although I do not fight, I still learn and I listen to what is going on around me.

Did you know this....

Personally I wouldn't marry someone I don't know. You need to know what you are committing yourself to. After all we are talking about a life-long commitment. Like the author, I also don't believe that one should be in a relationship for five years before committing without a sound reason, whatever that means. The point is: five years is too long a time for two people to be involved without any progress.

They stay in relationships with hope. My advice to all the women is: Start from now and ask your long relationship partner what he thinks about you!

I am a man myself but I am sure that it will not take me years to marry a woman. Once I get a right woman with all the qualities I need, I will get married immediately. It will not take years, a year will be too long, and a delay will be caused by arrangements. I also blame you women why don't you ask your partners?

There are plenty of guys who are interested in you but you always tell them about your boyfriend that you have been involved for 4yrs and you are happy, my question is if you are happy, why are you in a relationship for so long (4yrs) without marriage. Women are not clever enough when it comes to do a
feasibility study about men.

WAKE UP AND ASK HIM (boyfriend): What will be my future with you? Do not take excuses? Tell him your future plans Enough is enough ask him what he is waiting for? If possible give him your parents' address and he must tell them what he wants from you. If he came to play around with you he will never come back. You must rather stay without a man rather than wasting your time with someone who will hurt you and leave you, for how long will you live like that? Once you are able to do that, you will see
the future you were dreaming of.

A RIGHT MAN WHO LOVES YOU WILL COME AND DO THAT. You ladies with long-term relationships ask your boyfriends today, if he is mumbling, leave him because you will be depressed one day if you find out that he is getting married to someone whom he met within 4 months. Imagine (4years = 4months) I am just picturing how your feeling will be? Ladies stay away from those relationships, they are 3% useful and 97% wasting your time. There could be someone out there who was going to marry you during this
4yrs maybe it was going to take him a year to marry you but you refused you wanted to stay in a relationship with no due date. We are all working according to time (Projects, Deliveries, Purchasing, Contracts, etc.) Why Not Love Affairs?


I have sisters I always tell them because I want the best for them. Some of you might not agree but I am sure this can help some of you.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS: "IF A MAN IS STABLE IN LIFE, IN A RELATIONSHIP, BUT NOT MARRIED, THEN IT IS BECAUSE HE IS NOT SURE ABOUT THE WOMAN THAT HE IS
WITH."

He is not willing to commit to her and constantly has his eye open for something better or is waiting for her to become something better. Point blank. When he finds a woman that he is satisfied with, he will make her his wife. And ladies, sorry to tell some of you, but it doesn't take 4 or 5 years for that man to figure it out. It doesn't take 2 or 3 years either.


The only reason that a man will get married after that long of a time is because he's tired of looking for something better. And trust me, that's definitely what he was doing all of those years. So if you should happen to find yourself in one of those "long term" relationships then maybe you should step back, take a look at yourself and wonder what it is that you're missing by doing favors for this man who is not willing to fully commit.

Don't make excuses to yourself and your girlfriends saying things like "Oh he's waiting 'til he gets a better job" or "he's waiting to finish school" or "he's waiting until he moves from his apartment to a house".

DON'T FOOL YOURSELF, IT'S NOT THAT COMPLICATED!!

Which one of those things can't be done with a wife or fiancé' by your side? So ladies, when you read this think about your situation and that man that you are living with, or the one that you spend many nights over his house or him over yours. Think about your baby's father that you are still in a sexual relationship with. Think about your "ex" that you are in a sexual relationship with. Think about your "boyfriend". And definitely think twice before you brag on a relationship that's a couple of years long and
you still have no commitment.

Like I've said before, I'm a man and I know the situation. I've been there and I know that we can come up with some extremely reasonable excuses, but.... DON'T FOOL YOURSELF, IT'S NOT THAT COMPLICATED!

"Ladies, can i hear you say Amen!!"

And

"Guys, let's be honest"

Christians are going to Hell (with the rest of us)

Think you'll make it to the Pearly Gates? Better read up on the Bible, sinner.

For example : in Deuteronomy 13:6-10, it states : 'If your brother, or your son or daughter, or your beloved wife tries to secretly entice you, telling you to go and worship other gods, gods of people living near you, or far from you, or anywhere on earth, do not listen to him. You must kill them. Show them no pity. And your hand must strike the first blow.Then the hands of all the people. You shall stone them to death."

So unless you think the Bible is just a big load of horse-crap, you really should be stoning your family members to death if they do anything that might lead you to other gods.

But that's just that wacky Old Testament, you say. Nobody pays any attention to that any more!

OK then, you're off the hook for your holy reluctance to kill your horrible, unclean family members with thrown stones. But the New Testament says, in 1 Corinthians 11:4-5, " For any man to pray or to prophesy with his head covered shows disrespect for his head. And for a woman to pray or prophecy with her head uncovered shows disrespect for her head."

So men, if you've ever worn a hat in Church (or any other time you are praying), you're a sinner. And ladies, if you've ever NOT worn a hat in Church (or any other time you are praying), you too are a sinner, even if you thought showing off your great new hairdo in Church was to the greater glory of God. Indeed, in 1 Corinthians 11:6 it clearly says " Indeed, if a woman does go without a veil, she should have her hair cut off too.". The lineup for shaving forms on the left, you brazen hussies!

Of course, not wearing a hat in Church is not the worst thing a woman can do... not compared to the infamous and flagrant sin of talking. For is it not written in 1 Corinthians 14:34, " As in all the churches of God's holy people, women are to remain quiet in the assemblies, since they have no permission to speak: theirs is a subordinate part. If there is anything they want to know, they should ask their husbands at home: it is shameful for a woman to speak in the assembly. During instruction, a woman should be quiet and respectful. I give no permission for a woman to teach or to have authority over a man. A woman ought to be quiet."

So hush up those chatterbox mouths of yours, ladies. Yours is the subordinate role, it says it right there in the Bible. And seeing as you can't ever have authority over men, any of you who have men working for you, or God forbid, seek public office, are Jezebels of the foulest degree. But that's just the Epistles, right? Those aren't the literal words of Jesus.
Right you are! So let's see what Jesus has to say about things.

Well, for starters, there's Matthew 5:41-42 "Give to the one who asks you, and do not reject the one who wants to borrow from you. If you lend to those from whom you hope to be repaid, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners. "

And in Luke 6:30-31" "Give to everyone who asks you. And do not ask for your possessions back from the person who takes them away.. "

So if you've ever lent something to someone with the hope of being repaid, you're a sinner, a demon, and a wretch. I mean, Jesus must have been quite adamant about this, two Apostles say this is His opinion. So you must give to anyone who asks you and never expect repayment, or it's Hell for you. Obviously, there are a lot of bankers and owners of finance companies who are sin-soaked horrors, worse than any homosexual, and who are going to find Hell especially toasty.

Or how about Mark 11:10, wherein it is written : "Whoever divorces someone and marries another commits adultery. Whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery. " Now I seem to recall that there's quite a number of prominent Republicans and others of the Religious Right who have been divorced and remarried at least once. How dare you Christians let yourself be lead by such obvious abominations of sin? You might as well just join Michael Moore in hating America. And of course, for all you rich Republicans, there's Matthew 6:19, Luke 12:15 :
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth. A man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions."

And further in Matthew 6:24, " No one can serve two masters. He will hate the one and love the other. You cannot serve both God and money.'" And more-so in Mark 6:21-22, "Sell everything you have. And give to the poor.".
Clearly, if you have many possessions and much wealth, you must sell them all and give it to the poor, lest you roast in the fires of Hell. Christ Himself, the one who is so central to your religion that you named it after Him, says to do so, and unless you think the Bible is anything less than the literal Word of God, you have to do it.

Even if you plead ignorance of the Word of God until this moment, you have now received Testament and from this point on, you must sell all your possessions, kill those who try to entice you away from the Lord, forsake all love of money (unless you hate God), ban all forms of divorce, and follow many, many other rules, too numerous to list here. But unless you wipe your ass with the Bible and the Word of God, you have a lot of reading to do.

On the other hand, you could just admit that you pick and choose the parts of the Bible that you like, and ignore what you don't like, and thus it is a meaningless book to reference in any argument.

But hey....you're going to Hell anyway.