I SLEPT IN EDUCATIONAL BUILDING.

I once fell in class while the lecturer had taken a brief commercial break to down some H₂O as it was a hot smothering afternoon lecture. Chances are I was having teenage daydreams that were celluloid induced or I was in artificial stupor. Talk of a guy who had had superhero thoughts imbued with a sense of wide-eyed wonder as a result of watching too much movies before going to university.

It was a two hour lecture which usually took forever as I had not yet got acclimatized to the campus lectures yet (2 years of staying at home without going to class). I was a freshman who loved stories and the lectures being boring, I had mistakenly turned back only to fall like a sack of maize hurled by a porter in the silo.

Luckily, I am a swift guy as I quickly rose up and only those near were able to notice that I had fallen down. As a macho guy, I gave the ladies around that look that even if they wanted to laugh at my predicament, they kept quiet WITH THEIR HANDS IN MOUTH to block the imminent. Very few laughed apart from my pals who openly did it because it was unusual for a person to fall in class.

Later when I narrated the story during our weekly BS meeting to some pals, a classmate who never knew that I was the guy who had fallen down laughed at me because all along she only knew that a guy had fallen in class but his whereabouts were unknown.

Three years later, I was doing my final year. While many merry at doing their last semester in campus, ours was the opposite. It had everything to do with a research project that was a real headache (actually it was a pain the ass). Every second semester of fourth year, students had to do a research paper and this was really a nightmare for some of us who got strict supervisors. The synopsis part, done before proceeding to doing the actual research under the guidance of a supervisory lecturer took some students more than five months to complete.

Research is also not that easy. No wonder some students pay experienced guys to carry out the whole thing while they only cram the important sections that they need to present to the lecturer.

In our school due to a large number of students, we were supposed to carry out our research paper in a group of five students.

For our group, our supervising lecturer had to cancel three of the research projects for lack of data in the first instance. The second was because the research question was beyond our scope as undergraduates and the third was something due to poor research on the topic of interest. We were frustrated and it is the fourth project proposal that we were able to do because we had heavily consulted even with former students and guys doing their masters. Indeed finding data for an econometric test in the country can be daunting task as much as they are time consuming. Data is so scarce in the country indeed.

There is a lady friend of mine who used to put her group on toes including my male friends and she would even scold them if they never did their research work aptly like a fiery mother or a boss when you do something wrong. That she had standards was not in denial. She had kaliad those boys chapatti, for real. And they respected her like students do a very fierce teacher while in primary school.

I was a group of guys who were kind of don't cares. We only had a single lady who apart from apologizing for usually being late by buying us freebies each time we met, she was cute and one of the group members had this licentious appetite for what her mama gave her. I aint sure whether they managed to exchange documents. Oh! Exchanging documents is a term coined by a former don so that ladies could easily give dudes what they wanted without undergoing the long process (3 months normally).

One day, we decided to meet in my room to carry out research. However, on that fateful day, things were happening at the neighbouring room and we decided to head to ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). It is the unfinished hideous and grotesque building that has produced some of the best architects, surveyors and designers the country has managed to produce. I hope they are not the guys who draw those building that normally fall down in Eastlands every year.

Upon arrival, we found it full and there were no seats we could be able to use as every room was occupied by guys. We were only two out of the five group members; Mike and I. Working with groups is a very tricky affair. You may call for a meeting and find that a guy was somewhere with his girlfriend in Githurai quenching his thirst. It is worse when some of those members are pretending practicing and strict Christians and they have to be committed to Church, their men and women and the group at the same time. When the five of you meet, you say Hallelujah! It only happens after a lot of pleading and coercion.

Since ADD was full, we thought of going to Mike's place but again hostel rooms are tricky. There is always that guy who wants to borrow salt, that guy who will pretend not to indulge you in stories while you are doing research but at the end of the day you deviate from the norm and chat as guys have the latest 411. There is also the aroma of someone cooking some sumptuous delicacy or drinking with friends or making out with his mama.

As such I thought of Main Campus where we could be able to do the research especially in the School of Business section for it was past 2000hrs and lectures usually end around that time. Again we need not to use those Internet cables as the place had very fast Wi-Fi.

So two dude were on their way to do research. We went to a classroom where internet speed is faster and you can also watch YouTube. Kenyans in general love watching videos, even in cyber cafes. Very few will go and waste time reading a blog or an e-book when they have free internet. Some perverts however access the xxx sites while alone in cyber cafe that offer a lot of privacy.

Unluckily in most educational institutions unless you know how to hack some sites. You can never access some of those x-rated sites where you can watch videos.

Mike took out his PC and so did I as were carried out our research. We were so engrossed in the research and only realized that the last person who closes the building had locked us in. I went running after him upon hearing the sounds of the padlock being locked.

On arrival, he was already gone. I tried calling him, "Boss Boss unatufungia hapa ndani." My voice was not audible enough. I even shook the metal see through me door but he could not hear me. I only hard the decrescendo of his footsteps as he went away.

I went back to Mike who was probably exchanging niceties with his many girlfriends since he was on whatsapp as he was no longer researching.

"Boss tunalala hapa leo," I told him.

"Kuwa serious, yani huyo mtu ametufungia," Mike said contritely.

At that point, he decided to go call the sentries. Never mind that the bugger has a small piercing voice like that of a cat that meows on being kicked. His voice was not loud enough. Since the room we were in was directly opposite the library, we waited for guys who were heading to or exiting from the library to call them to tell the sentries that we were trapped inside. We could not be able to jump. We were on the third floor and even if we tried, KNH section that deals with those with broken limbs is where we would have ended up in.

One dude was able to alert a sentry who came only to confirm that we were really trapped and confirmed our worst fears; spending the night.

After some minutes a sentry came.

"Nyinyi malikuwa wakifanya nini muko ndani?" He asked in his heavy jeng accent.

"Tulikuwa tunafanya research, Soldier. Sisi ni fourth years" Mike replied.

"Hebu nione ID senu kwansa."

We did show him our school IDs even though I was not using mine. He never checked the faces as it was darker. I had lost my ID and was using a friend’s as I was to return it later and because my former ID was already rendered useless upon expiry. I had applied for a new one in the meantime.

"Sasa mimi awesi saidia nyinyi. Huyo mtu nasaenda nyumbani na sina namba yake."

"Lakini si unaweza ambia mkubwa wako ampigie simu arudi juu bado inakaa ako within town?" I asked him.

"Hio siwesi, kijana changu." He said resigned.

We continued chatting for about ten minutes. In the end, he left us still behind bars, locked up while we had not expected it. Locked up in a lonely place and it was beginning to become cold inside.

That day we watched as the last guys were leaving the library. The bell was rung and we saw guys arranging their paraphernalia and tools of trade going back to wherever they were headed.

I only remember one of my buddies yapping later on that, "What if it was a lady you were trapped inside the room with or the two of you guys were fire starters?"

Trust guys to think of inimical things but when you are under suffrage you never think of such things.

Things probably could have happened.

We could not bear the cold and I decided to call my friends so that they could bring me some warm jackets to survive inside the room which had no curtains and it was freezing inside.

The first friend I called could not believe it and he laughed as I was sounding pathetic while he had got used to me being jester who some things could never happen to. In fact when our group members called and we told them that we had been trapped in main campus, they also laughed. They thought that that was an early April Fool's Day prank or we never wanted to have the group meeting altogether. And the next day was indeed April Fool’s.

But my room mate came in handy and together with part of the other musketeers (read Campus gullibility), they came to confirm whether it was a true ordeal. They also came as a group since it was increasingly becoming risky to walk alone at night in the streets near UON. It was about the time when one of our classmate had been murdered under unclear circumstances and his body dumped into the school swimming pool and no one has been held accountable to date. RIP Wasabi.

They had brought us jackets and even though I told them to carry some food with them they never. But there are places in town that operate 24/7 and since I had some money, they went and brought us some fries and chicken which we devoured like hyenas that had been on a dry-spell of meat for days.

When they left having confirmed that we indeed were going to spend the night in ED, we went back to the room we were in to see if we could continue doing our research.

It reached a point we could not be able to concentrate on doing our research work. I decided to download some series that we were following but again could not do it for long.

I gave Mike one of the jackets as he already had one while I used the rest as a pillow case on the lecture chairs and wore others. Too much of internet is sometimes poisonous. You can never use the internet when it is in abundance. I could not download all the movies I had wanted and sleep caught up with me.

Uncomfortable as it was sleeping on the chairs, you cannot sleep for a continuous 30 minutes streak, we managed till morning. I had thought of starting a trending topic by tweeting one of the twitter bigwigs but again it would have been an effort in futility. I wanted to have an adventure of having slept in the school of business.

The next day, the guy who was supposed to open that building came very early. Methinks his wife (if he was married) was left in a dilemma because at exactly 0600hrs, he opened the door. I could hear him but I was also tired and still sleepy.

When he had opened it, Mike went to him to probably reprimand him for not checking the rooms since while leaving it should have been a requisite to confirm that all students had exited since students normally study till late. Maybe he had presumed that students were no longer inside.

However, how sure was he that there were maybe thieves or guys with hidden agendas who were hell bent on destruction or theft? If the custodian of the school of business main campus never checked the rooms while leaving who then was tasked to do so?

The sentry manning the building was flabbergasted seeing a student exiting the building while he had not seen anyone walking in. I had no time to engage him in a conversation and left him talking to himself as I was feeling sweaty and tired and we had lectures at 0800hrs on that day. I needed to wash away the thoughts.

I went to the wrong hostel room opened the door but realized that I was in the wrong room. While most of the keys can open almost any of the rooms in the hostel, the one leading to your given room is locked using a padlock. The doors were locked from inside. That is when it came to my mind that I had gone to the wrong room.

I rushed to my room and on checking everything I had, I realized that I had forgotten my Wallet in the school of business. I hurriedly went back wishing that it should be the place I had left it in. I nicely talked to the sentry and he let me in since I had no school Id. Luckily I found one of the cleaners inside the room we had slept in. She had kept it safely and after a few questions she gave it back.

That day, I attended the morning lecture since my friends had spread rumors that I had slept in ED where most of our lectures were done. I had to dispute them as rumours.
Mike, my probable alibi was not in class and my eyes were swollen and red and I could not complete the three hour lecture as I exited and went to soundly sleep in my room. I woke up at around 1500hrs feeling hungry and tired.

Looking through the window, it looked like it was morning and it is only the radio news from the nearby room that alerted me that it was early evening.

Indeed, sometimes I go through situations in life and realize they better me. While it may be unthinkable of going through them in the onset. It works fine when you have experienced them.

PS: My PC kept on crashing each time I did write this piece (loss of ideas and flow and the initial content, Aisee), the write up was deleted several times as my machine literally went into a trance resulting into near death.

SITUONANE.

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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SULKING IS A WAY OF REDUCING STRESS

Public servants are sometimes full of themselves and their superciliousness is sometimes banal and nettling. That does not mean all of them act with idiocy and debilitating infamy synonymous with the sector. The young guys are however very cordial and assisting and rarely showcase the cocky nature of those on the onset of their retirement age who senility is an issue they also have to content with (stats show guys below 35 are less than 30% in public service).  Public service is full of bureaucracy and inefficiency and can be time wasting. You are bound to be frustrated and annoyed by the way things are done. It is tormenting sometimes dealing with individuals who are assigned the role of offering service to the public.

University of Nairobi being one institution of excellence aiming at being a world class institution is one of those public institutions where the bureaucracy associated with public service has taken root (in this digital age). You will be taken from one office to another in the name of getting what you want. And you have to pay for whatever you want. UON has a culture of demanding more money yet they giving back your money can be a real hustle, so like tax rebates, you let them have it. I am sure they still have my money but because I am not ready to fork out more money in order  to get the paltry figure, I have let the money go just like that.

Again if I paid to get back my money, I would still not get it in hard cash though I don't mind being given books. A certain friend told me she was requested to go to UNES get books in exchange for her money. I love reading books but not everyone loves books. Some people like spending their hard earned cash (even if it was paid by the folks).

UON prides in being the best institution in the country, all right. It should be having systems aimed at making it easy for students to easily enjoy living in it and transcending from it. Partly I have to blame myself for having gone through a process that made me disheveled at the end of the day. My only worry goes to my friend who lives upcountry and has not returned his hired graduation gown back to the school. Each day you will be forced to fork out Sh.50 having the gown past the required deadline. In a month you part with Sh.1500, ouch! Concerning the hiring of the gown, I thought they would refund us the money like some institutions do. How wrong I was.

My wide of the mark was losing my clearance form and a signed graduation form indicating I had already cleared from our school. I went to Chiromo to collect my certificate from the examination centre and was informed I could only be able to collect the certificate if only I could produce the forms. In Chiromo, I was aptly advised to go back to my school to go get the signed graduation form I had retained with our school. That is where my woes started. For a whole day, I was to look for a document that would have taken me just a few minutes to get.

I went to our school where I was told to go to the person I had left my graduation gowns with who had cleared me in the graduate computer room. The person was apparently on leave and as such could not assist me with a copy of the signed graduation form. The person who was now in charge could not assist me either. I was perturbed. I had lost my form and the concerned parties could not be able to locate where they had placed my other form. How careless can people be, especially an institution. I bet on my side, it had to do with misplacement as I had forgotten where I had placed them, hence I could not be able to trace the forms.

The best solution to reduce the impasse that would have ensured I was advised was to go to the college registrar to be issued with a new clearance form. There I was told that the only way they could be able to assist me was only if I paid for stamp fees for the processing of new forms. By then it was past one, so I went to the nearby Barclays Bank and paid the requisite amount. Luckily the Bank operates efficiently since it did not have a long queue and I was attended to within a few minutes.

By the time I exited from the bank, it was still the period within lunch break and I also went for lunch. At exactly 1400 hrs I was back at the registrar’s office to be given my two forms - clearance and graduation form. However, the aid I was seeking was not to be. Those charged with offering services in the office had gone for a meeting and could not be back in until further notice. That I was disappointed was an underestimation.

A certain lady in a red skirt who I had earlier found in the office was not of help either. I forgot that red means danger. The lady was dangerous though deviously. She was in the office but blatantly refused to answer my questions. “Can’t you see I am headed to a meeting,” she said rudely when I asked her to assist me. “When are you likely to come back?” I inquired. At that point, she kept mum and sneeringly looked at me (those lady looks of 'UTADO?'). We were with a certain chap who also wanted help, but her reaction said it all. She was not going to assist us.

My annoyance turned into laughter. I was dealing with people who have little regard for those they are to serve yet in public service there is a motto that goes 'Utumishi kwa wote' (that's for the police though). I asked the sentry who was nearby on the possibility of being served on that day but he also had no clue. I was hence forced to go outside to think of another solution since this one had already backfired.

I decided to go back to our school where I was directed to go to one Mr. Karimi (forgotten his name though), senile and on the brink of retirement and probably suffering from mental infirmity. He was not around and this only meant that I had to go back to the registrar to check if they had terminated the meeting they had been having.

Then a good idea came into mind. What if I went to the college bursar to help me with the issue of the forms since I had already paid for the forms I was seeking? The lady at the bursar was very helpful. Even though there were very many students and former students who needed to be attended to, I was duly given an audience.

Upon checking my bank receipt and finding out that the amount had not been reflected in the school account, I was told to go wait outside for about an hour so that the figure could be ratified. Yet I had a receipt. Technology is very slow sometimes. So I went outside and sat on the benches within Chancellors court as I waited for the amount to be reflected.

I went and sat next to some dudes who were engaged in palaver like those on "Ni gumzo mtaani". Men can sometimes be very petty and finicky. They are very good in discussing trivial issues that you may find utterly hackneyed. The dudes were discussing about a certain chic who was had driven his boyfriend nuts to a point where bloke broke up with her because the boy had no money of his own. Only means men must be up to task and take responsibility.

In fact, one dude was talking about how the chic could call the boyfriend to inquire whether he had already cooked, washed the clothes and other household chores that we, Kenyan men, consider as reserved for women. The said lady could even come with her lady friends to the house and order her man around and make him feel she was the one in charge especially when she hosted parties.

The said chap had decided to call it quits when he could not hold it anymore. The lady was frustrating him because she was from a family where the dad was kind of affluent, had got her a good job and she could be able to rent a decent house. The dude on the other hand was from a humble background and could not fit into the shoes of the hubby to be, years after exiting campus.

What incensed the boyfriend was the fact that the chic had reduced her to a valet, a driver and a gold digger. Once the chic was headed to Ngong road to attend to her job engagements, the dude thought of using Lang’ata road since it normally has no jam while the chic insisted on using Ngong road. When the boy insisted and headed using the direction he wanted because he was driving, he was told “Kwani gari ni yako ndio unaendesha vile unataka.”

It got worse when the lady would come home with different men and order the man around like he was some puppet and a maid to do one two three. This was the epitome of telling the man, "I don't give a shit about you dude. I got the money and i can get a man on rent."

The dude got virtually piqued and since they could no longer rhyme because the lady was continually debasing him even though they lived in Westlands. He packed his things and went back to Eastlands to live with his ‘maboys’ as he chatted his way forward.

One dude also talked of some ladies who have a lot of money more than their men but because the bible talks of wives submitting to their husbands, such ladies give their men the authority to control  finances without belittling their men. In their opinion, such ladies were however rare to find in Nairobi.

The stories captivating but I also had to work with time. Even though I had the whole day, I told myself that I was obviously going to blog about that story. It's originality was something I found transfixing. I never wanted to wake up from my seat.

At that point I rose up and went back to the bursar’s office since it was past an hour. The lady who had earlier on attended to me had forgotten to tell me to come back with a graduation form that needed to be stamped. She therefore directed me to go to the bureaus that offer photocopying services for the graduation forms. I took the forms and also photocopied the bank receipt before heading back to the bursar’s office.

However, I had forgotten my bank receipt while photocopying it at the bureau. Upon arrival at the bursar's with a clone of the bank receipt, I was directed back to go for the original since they never deal with duplicates. Then it was past 1600hrs. There I met other students who were seeking for wide ranging services.

While waiting for my form to be acted upon, I decided to chat with another lady who was waiting to be cleared having returned her graduation gown late. She told me that even though she had paid school fees in excess, the account was different from the one that she was to pay the fine for late return of the graduation gown.

I told her that there was a possibility of having the funds transferred to that account required because they all belong to the university. She however apprised me she had been advised that in order to be cleared faster, she had to pay the fine in the account she had been directed for ease of facilitation.

As a lady she had been dejected and disillusioned by the system and staff as this was like the third day she had gone back to school seeking for clearance. On that fateful day, she was to pay an extra sh.100 because that was essentially the day noted she had returned the gown. In her opine, making the payments was not a problem as long as she was done with the university business and eventually collecting her certificate.

She also brought me up to speed on the issue of her friend who failed to sit for her exams because she had gone for a graduation ceremony of a kin and while coming back, the lady got involved in an accident and could not be able to sit for her exams. That meant she had to ask for special exams. However when the lady went to inquire for those exams, the lecturer in charge of authorizing her to sit for the special exams told her to go to the school clinic to get clearance even though the lady was actually limping. It was like I had become a Robert Alai even though I barely knew the lady we were conversing.

On arrival in the school clinic, the nurse told her the clinic had no facilities to diagnose the extent of her injury and hence she was directed elsewhere. Then you realize that even though UON produces the best doctors in the country it has no facilities to serve its students when the school requires to check for something substantive to prevent students for engaging in hoax.

I was mesmerized how that could be but since I could not be able to verify the accuracy of the information, I forgot to tell her to tell the friend to either contact the dean of students or the student body organ to aid her in her quest for justice. But some lecturers think they own the school, they act with such pride and absurdity you would think they rival peacocks. One in our school was a former don in the Red nation nicknamed Uncle Raucous or Sniffer Dog.

My forms were brought back and I was destined for the school to get the requisite clearance necessary which was in form of a getting the graduation clearance form stamped and signed by the person clearing students to indicate that I had actually delivered my graduation gown. That I was exhausted was not a lie.

The whole day I had been up and about only looking for one form (I was not given a clearance form even though I had paid for it). I thought of the fact that the university had made it a mandate to ensure that students are cleared online. Why was it impossible to clear students online so that they could be able to only go and collect certificates upon graduation using their National IDs? If one could be able to clear with the library, hostel and other departments online, why was this process now very lengthy to get one form?

My worst nightmare had not yet ended. In the computer lab, I never found a person who could sign my form to indicate I had returned my graduation gown. I remembered I had been told to contact one Mr. Karimi to help out. I never knew him even though I had been in that school for close to 5 years (2010-2014) .

I asked the secretary on the where abouts of Mr. Karimi. She told me to explain to her why I wanted to see Mr. Karimi. I told her it was concerning the issue of graduation form. Since Mr. Karimi was seated by her side, she told him to assist me where necessary.

Mr. Karimi came and saw the form that I wanted him to sign. I explained to him that I initially intended to ask for a copy from him but decided to use the legal procedure of paying for the form as required by UON. At that point, he became furious and kind of retreated back. He was of the opinion that I was blackmailing him into signing a document having returned my graduation gowns late.

I tried to explain to him that the reason I had resorted to him for assistance was because Jacktone who had signed my forms upon return of the gown was on leave and he should kindly help out me since he was the only person available then to offer the service then. He told me he was not the person who had signed the document and as such, I needed to wait for Jacktone or find him to sign the forms. But Jacktone was on leave, and as such, I asked him to call him or he gives me his phone number but he refused to heed the two suggestions. At that point we were exchanging words and no communication was taking place.

Oh boy!  He went back and sat on his seat and vowed cursing that he was not going to sign the document no matter what. I stood my ground and tried to explain to him the reason why he should sign it. But amid explaining to him, he interrupted my thought process.

At that point, I got annoyed and told him not to interrupt me while speaking due to emotional outrage. We needed to be communicating in a way that he lets me talk and he listens and vice versa. There is no way I was going to convince him to sign the document having ultimately decided on my fate while at the same time he was busy disrupting me from making my assertion.

He got pissed off when I told him that we need to communicate and not talk at each other yet we were all grown ups of sane minds. It was like we were arguing. Since we were talking in Swahili, I switched to English to see if I could be able to aptly convince him.

My main drive was that the only thing I needed from him was a signature having done the due process of returning the gown without fault and even signing against the date of return. Why was it then becoming an issue when he only needed to counter-check that I had done the same if he could not trust me? My main fault was misplacing the documents that I needed to use to get my certificate, I explained to him. I also tried to explain to him that there was a book indicating that I had signed and returned the gowns but he could hear none of it as he was on his phone again shaking his head. He had henceforth vowed not to sign my document. I even pleaded with him showing him the bank receipt and the new document that had been signed by the bursar’s office on that very day. Still he was adamant.

At that point, the secretary who was listening to the drama unfolding decided to interject. She told Mr. Karimi that in order to solve the issue, he should go and check whether or not I had signed the document indicating I had returned the gown to the school.

It is then that Mr. Karimi saw sense in what I was telling him. I had been frustrated for a whole day and leaving without the necessary signature and stamp was not what I was supposed to go through. It was a simple process and albeit I was kind of tired, I still had the impetus of clearing with the school once and for all.

Having been convinced by the secretary, Mr. Karimi rose up and went to the computer lab following me looking kind of red having decided to do what he had vowed and cursed not to do. My gratitude goes to the secretary for listening and decoding the message without prejudice or taking a hard-line stance. What happened to customer service and good PR relations irrespective of who you are and where you are from in this school?

When we went to the lab where I was supposed to aid him in locating my name. He told me to sit further away as he counter-checked for my name using the form I had given him. I looked around sheepishly as I waited to be served. He checked the book for about five minutes before he called me closer to show him my name. I did that and at that point, Mr. Karimi signed my papers after confirming that I had ideally returned the gown before the due deadline. I was calm and collected all along having won this round but I did pity the old man. I left him sitting fazed. He had not acted like a sober and sagacious person in executing his duties. The way he walked and his face confirmed that he was kind of sorry but his macho nature could not let him apologize for having frustrated me.

I stepped out tentatively and went back to the secretary and she stamped the papers without any ado. She grinned and gave me back my papers. By then it was past 1700hrs but I still thought that I could make it to Chiromo Exam Centre and convince those charged to aid me in getting my certificate since I urgently needed it for the purpose of applying for a job that needed it. However, I only found the sentries who told me that the issuance of the certificates was done for the day. I walked back dejected having witnessed the bureaucracy of public institutions first hand.

I was weary but still had a brave face. If I went through a whole day while others take years before they are served, then I bet this could be rectified for the process to be faultless, flawless and less time consuming. This ideology of making people to pay each and every time they mess up is like forcing man to be ideal. We are never all going to be responsible all of us. Even if you are responsible to the core, there are those times you will be human and mess. Human is to fault and as such we should be aware that things are bound to happen. If we don’t mess up, we might think things are alright but when they decide to crumble after one mess, that is the point we realize that we should put measures that are also human and can be able to mitigate errors and serve our interests and those of others without infringing on the rights we have been accorded and rightfully need to exercise without fear or favour.

PS: I hope the institution rectifies some of the little follies that may besmirch the strong brand and good name they have had for a while. Again it is the small things that matter. I may not have the clout of making a change but I have a platform that helps me out.

SITUONANE.
[Photo Source: CGTextures]

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OF SENTRIES, PARKING SPACE AND SH.100

Ken Ouko once intimated a story of one of his friends who was a city proletariat. In Nairobi, you need to be free with your money as stinginess has repercussions - being economical is however different. Misers rarely make it in this city that has become so expensive and is currently the best investment hub in Africa. What of places like Caramel where you are charged an arm and a leg for a tot of whisky (40 K, am not buying that sooner), Deacons and Mr. Price will rob you in broad daylight in the name of selling you haute couture which are adorned by commoners in 9ja.

Nairobians especially those who assume that the other side of life does not exist (read Eastlands and sprawling slums) will lavishly spend their cash in places like Subway, Naked Pizza, KFC, Cold Stone and all those American franchises that have opened shop in the county.

One of my lady friends once told me that in the initial days of getting acquainted to his lecture mannerism, she usually found Ken kind of arrogant and a man of too much show off. While a freshman, he never came to lecture with a book or notes during the single semester I undertook sociology. He lectured or is it to dictate from his mind- cramming power maybe. He was similar to teacher known as Mr. Bean who taught Chemistry while we were in high school. Mr. Bean (RIP) had this demeanor so gauche yet students still loved him because he was like a role model (many peeps never liked bathing while in high school as the weather was mostly cold). Mr. Bean had a one trouser and a shirt he wore for the whole term. He changed on rare occasions also because he was a bachelor.

So while lecturing on sociology, during a brief interlude, he talked of this friend of his who refused to tip the mundane CBD parking boys (I don’t know there Sheng name or right name of reference). Every day the bugger was asked for a paltry Sh.50 which he had, he would refuse to pay because he thought the boys never offered security to his contraption. This went on for months as he failed to pay the boys who are very crafty, ingenuous and you can do nothing to them. Talk of creating a niche in the city to become a sanctioned tenet as they abet sometimes with the county parking fee collectors.

One day when the bugger was from work, he went to his car as usual. He was cock sure of the place he had parked his car but upon checking, he found another car. Perturbed and mesmerized about the turn of events, he went straight to the council parking lot attendants to ask for the whereabouts of his car. He was directed to the parking boys who hitherto he had no respect for. The boys told him the truth that his car had been stolen and he could never recover it as they spend the whole day in the city acting as security and he undermined their importance and role in providing security.

To cut the long story short, the guy had to buy a new car because apparently the car had no tracking device. Upon purchase, he duly paid the parking boys like it was a routine and in excess. They became great friends. He had learnt his lesson never to mess up with those he considered of low nobility and having no clout. Him underrating the parking boys saw him learn a critical lesson in life.

I usually think that using the name watchmen is kind of shady and demeaning (I prefer sentry as opposed to soldier because it sounds cool and neo). Being a sentry is a very tasking job. Human resource chaps say that each and every job needs to be respected as they contribute to the general wellness and profitability of the other roles that people have to do within a firm. As in everyone is worthy of status within an organization and also within the home where they are essential.

Most sentries are usually very receptive of people who do not appear arrogant and disrespectful of their job. I love them because they usually have the most local or the most hilarious stories. There is this sentry who talked of a woman who took an accomplice or is it a neighbor to Kibera law courts because the neighbor’s cat had eaten their sumptuous meal of chicken which was for supper. Chicken is a fine delicacy in some places and it being relatively expensive as a meal, the lady found a score to settle with a neighbor she probably wanted to fix.

Sentries sometimes do implement their roles and functions in a way that any exchange of words between you and him will be viewed as an act of undermining him. They can easily turn a molehill into a mountain just because you failed to do something that you ought to have done notwithstanding the fact that it may be a very trivial issue that you are arguing over. Barasa was forced to resign because of ‘the you should know people’ sentry altercation.

Having had my altercations with a majority of sentries, especially those that man the many building in town, I have learnt to let them have their way. That way, even if I have to rudely reply when incensed, I keep quite because they know better and smile to ease the tension. They can easily embarrass you and make you feel like you are on the wrong while in reality some may be on the wrong. All this in the name of implementing law and order and following instructions.

The sentries who however usually catch my eye are those who check cars in public places. While it is their right to check the car, the manner in which they do it sometimes is alarming as it is full of indifference and insouciance. Just because we are so innocent doesn’t mean everyone is harmless. Burglars usually use such loopholes to rob even the most protected of facilities due to nonchalance. In fact, what most of those sentries do is ubiquitously palpable. The concave metal detectors sometimes leave me with my tongue in the cheek because I never know whether the users know how to use them or the gadgets cannot be able to aptly carry out their functions.

Ever since Al Shabaab reined havoc, the devices are used everywhere and it is only fair that the people who use them are well trained on how the devices function. It is only while going to renew my unreadable driving license in Times Tower that I was thoroughly screened by the sentries. All the others do what I presume is a slight metal massage of the body. They are never serious or the devices are generic and only sold because someone could supply them having secured a tender to do so. The shoddy screening sometimes with bare hands is usually very embarrassing.

While most sentries like to be tipped, those who will never fail to ask for something small are those who work where parking spaces are usually very scarce. As a person who loves and respects them, I know what a Sh.20 coin can do to a sentry. However I usually like giving out software. Doing hardware is so old school and the sentry usually has a low opinion of who you are in relation to cash. If you are a regular and keep on giving coins, chances are there is a time they will conspire and never let you have that parking space even if available.

Giving a sentry sh.100 is like making his day. They will act with zeal and can be at your service as if you are their master. Chances are he will not foot back home and may probably buy something better if he collects more from the many cars that park. If you never give out any money to the sentry, then, like the parking boys they can mess you up when you least expected. Again if you give out more, they will easily welcome you with open hands and will never mind if on that fateful day you never had something small to tip them. They are humans and understand when things are thick. They will serve you as usual knowing full well there are times when the tap also runs dry.

But you can never know when the sentry will be transferred to another station. There was a sentry I was so used to in a certain hospital in town. I have this culture ingrained in me that I should be having some Sh. 50 or more to give them for the good work they do. During the first few days, he used to look at my car warily and precisely confirm before letting me in because the place had a small parking space. As time went by, he got used to my car and would easily let me in as it became a routine of being tipped after seeking the services of the doctor. Even if the place was full, he would find a way of ensuring I never parked outside.

When the sentry was transferred, it took me time before I could be able to get acquainted to the incoming sentry. First of all, she was a lady and dealing with ladies is a bit tricky. Some are ever looking daggers and you might be apprehensive giving that tip during the first time they open the gate on your exit. As such you only greet them and callowly gibber some inaudible goodbye before you fully get acquainted to their comfort zone to decide whether it will continue being business as usual.

Chances could be they were transferred because of continuously soliciting for some alms and those who are not used to such behaviors reported to the authorities and that could be the reason for relocation. What is for sure is that when you give no matter how small the amount is and you explain the reason, the sentry will even make it his duty to stop other cars to let your car have way while navigating to the main road. Small things that really count in life.

I revere all sentries, they risk and sacrifice their lives and encounter a lot. Even though some may have robust ATT, majority are very cordial. They have the best stories that if you have an ear for comedy, surely you will be treated to some rib cracking jokes for free. Because most tell it as it is without fear of debasing their reputation in life. Whether it is that woman who beats or cheats her husband, a Miss Mboch who is lose and entertains all and sundry in he vajayjay; trust the watchie to tell you about it with the segue of a good song that eases your day on a Bad Monday morning. Obviously, these people have no adept in keeping secrets they hear no matter how critical it may be.

SITUONANE.

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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Money, Power and Pussy

I was watching ‘STRETCH’ when I heard Karros (who is a fire starter and a billionaire) talk to Stretch about money, power and pussy. Any sane man (fire starter naught) will aim towards the three. Stretch was kind of not into the fire starter thingy and easily found out ways of giving Karros a wide berth since he had ulterior motives while Stretch is straight.

Stretch, a former gambler and cocaine addict ran into trouble with his boss who was fast losing business to a rival business enfranchise. 

Stretch is a Limo driver and his nemesis, Boris- a driver who tows vehicles, is also hot on heels looking for chance to pin him down due to a previous altercation. Stretch is however to witty for the giant who appears to be more brawny than brainy. The movie is full of suspense mid section but there is a major goof is when it becomes fictitious especially where Stretch reclaims the taxi limo from Boris who was towing it away. 

Trust Stretch to pull stunts that are unimagined. When he dropped a senior policeman who lent him his badge, he went ahead and used the badge to get money from an FBI agent who thought he was serving in the disciplined forces having been sent by Karros to collect the bait money.

Luckily, upon receipt of the money he was sent, he stumbles upon his former girlfriend Candace who he deceives he is no longer a taxi driver but a baller. He hires one of those guys who park vehicles for 40 bucks to make Candace jealous of his new found affluence in life as he was ushered back left into the limo much to her chagrin.     

This reminds me of the Wolf of Wall Street, a movie that showcases how money can give a person power and pussy. One of the professor in back in campus told us to watch it to get the gist of stoke brokerage as opposed to the debauchery, sex and use of hard drugs. We watched it because we loved rebellion, the movie having been banned and censured by the film commission and because of the scenes that every sane man likes viewing. 

If you are a broke ass nigger, you never will be content if you aim towards having either of the two, power and pussy. Money begets the two. Even among the gay male, money talks, unless you are the screwed. That is the reason why Jordan Belfort worked smartly to elevate his stoke brokerage firm from grass to grace then back to grass. Belfort ,having been sacked from the firm he initiallly worked for, became ingenuous and came up with Stratton Oakmont, a firm that engages in the art of hard sell which involves the method of pump and dump scam.

The Wolf of Wall Street is arguably a good watch if you are interested in being a good stoke broker but it actually has the net effect of what money can do. Engaging in vices such as drug sniffing, money laundering and do I say? Belfort gained power and was able to use scam in a way that enriched him fast. He easily becomes the target of the FBI as his stock brokerage firm comes under scrutiny and attention of the FBI who were not convinced by his activities. 

He had transferred lots of money to offshore Swiss accounts and the chap dealing with his funds later swindled him all the money together with his wife. The net effect was that he was placed under house arrest and he lost his prestigious position of managing a firm that would make millions just by the dial of a phone.

Everyone irrespective of sex aims at financial serenity. While money cannot buy happiness, it can buy the happiest day of your life- say wedding to ladies, the best car you ever wanted, holiday destination that has the trappings of luxury and affluence, dining in the best bistros and sipping in hostelries you never visualized you would set foot in and that only means the list is endless. 

Sometimes you might be seating in a good joint, you watch as people order for some of the best meals and drinks around. Then, you have your soda by your side. That is where your money has reached you (hapo ndio mahali pesa zako zimekufikisha) -sic. You cannot stretch your budget any further because ideally you have no more cash to spend. You kind of hate yourself seeing people who you admire and wish you were of their status in life.

Men usually aim at having abundance of those pounds. It is never enough though. Money is power and absolute power corrupts like in the case of Belfort. If you have it, you gain some form of influence. Money is not everything though in life. It may give you material wealth, some form of power and also pussy, but it can never ameliorate you ingenuity in as much as you may have a sea of it if you are mediocre. 

It can take you to the best hospitals but it can never buy you good health if you lived a risky life sfull of promiscuity and binging. Plus it can never hold a warranty against death. Still we cannot do without money. If you have plenty of it, don’t trust yourself with all of it. Trust others too. What you may do is hire the services of experts and those proficient with venture capitalism to aptly mete out sagacious counsel on how to go about your intentions even if you think you are the wittiest of chaps if you have the money.

Money has different facets. It has the obstinacy of an ass, and the gullibility of a panda. You can never feel secure with money even as a pauper (maskini akipata matako hulia bwata). The net effect of the resultant anxiety is the probity of acting with idiocy when you are not aware of or when you are limited to the right ken that aids in effective decision making.

One man in Kenya who oozes the three is CK (money, power and women). He has the salvo of the other two courtesy of the perceived view of having abundance of dough. He is not afraid to debase those of low nobility when he thinks their status is devoid of import and full of debris. He knows how to attract the most beautiful ladies courtesy of the image he has created. 

Something about perception is that you can elegantly engage in charlatanry and telepathy and people will believe you even if they think you are into deception. Reminds me of babu wa Loliondo. Most people who become successful know how to entice the human mind, make it accept that they are indeed in need of the product or help. Then you offer them a leeway that will bring them back through dealing with their limbic system. 

Reading books on how to grow rich, positive thinking and all those motivational books are just but side shows. If you are not that person who takes initiative and like a matador take the bull by its horns, then you will be living in denial. You may have read all the books but you are still stuck in a rut. 

There are even questions you have answered that relate to you being successful asked by the authors, the examples of success stories you have read in the books augur well with your situation in life and they have given you the impetus to think of a new dawn of promise. Still you are content, you have done nothing in concern to abating the commoner mentality. 

In reality, you are hurting and making fortifications that are devoid of promise. Very few in this world ever make it to the Promised Land. Some die along the way while others give up hope and return to their mediocrity because they had nothing to lose.

Women. I have to write about them. Men work tirelessly to please their women. As a bachelor on the move, it is effectively tricky dealing with women because you are still not yet decided on who to settle down with. Since you want to be comfortable first before she can come into your life. You might have the looks, but most of our ladies are weak when it comes to men who give them unlimited splurge of whatever money can buy. 

There is this handsome dude who went for a date and had no money. He hence had to wait for his moneyed friend to come take care of the bills. In fact one of the ladies was like “Kwani tunakula uso ama chakula. Bure kabisa mwanaume bila pesa.” The dude though well dressed was red-faced but vowed never to take money for granted even though he had the looks. He would be a good sperm donor in his own way if the lady was married to an outcome of a wealthy man.  

Silently, most women wish they were the ones who were being treated to getaways in those reclusive holiday destinations, that fuel guzzler that lets everyone see you behind the wheels because you have rolled down the car window. And when it comes to fashion, women love it trendy; the latest fashion works magic on them as much as it should be by a haute couture. 

They also love to associate with a certain residential area where they can brag even though they are not paying rent. They take pictures and post them for people to see their new found wealth and how they are doing well in life.  

Make money and all those bitches who have no stance will be by your side like leeches. Those ladies whose place is the gym where they work tirelessly to be curvy and impress the carnal desires of many men who equally want a taste of them. They will gallivant to any port of call without any qualms.

They put on thick make up and skin tone which sometimes backfires and lives them nursing serious skin conditions. Women love being pampered and spent on. They like rolling, they love petty things that most men take for granted and they also love association and vanity.

Focused ladies are however more into the future than the present. They see the bigger picture and what it presents. They want men who will be by their side and treat them like queens. They never share and it is never easy to find them condoning mediocrity. They are not limited by the current repute and class. They make their men feel like kings. They know their potential and revere their husbands. 

They take initiative and build their homes so that a MPW cannot wreck havoc and harvest where she never did sow. When their men slur, they hold them accountable and bring them to book through ways best known to them. These ladies are not afraid to live in mediocrity because they know the future holds that which will thaw in avalanche.

This reminds me of the story of a certain diva whose boyfriend had just cleared campus and she dumped him like he was a cadaver putridly suffocating her nose. The chic went to an established guy who had a car and could sustain her rabid preference of associating with a man who had a car. And is it true that when a man finally buys a car, he ceases to be the baboon that most women usually saw him to be.  He becomes handsome and responsible in the eyes of many ladies. 

This I read on the status update of one of those ladies who all of a sudden realized that her neighbor was handsome having bought a car. Curious I read the comments and there was this guy who hurled expletives at the lady for expressing her mind. With regard to the lady who dumped her man, the guy decided to buy the best car money can buy upon being frustrated by his former girlfriend. The dude got a good job and got an even hotter girlfriend. I wish I knew of ladies who are dumped by men at their low moments and when they prosper the men want them back.

There is nothing like boy meets girl, girls get smitten and falls in love, boy proposes, they get married and live happily ever after. If there are such occurrences (let me know), they are as rare as white elephants. Marriage is never easy even though I have never tried it. It is more about sacrifice than happiness. You cease to be who you used to be. You think in ‘we’ instead of I. The loss of this independence is what sometimes holds me back.

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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