INDIFFERENT

Have you ever felt that people around you are happy yet you are not? There are those times in life you just feel like you are discouraged. They are like happy moments. They sneak into your life intermittently and you have no intuition where the damn feeling originated from. When you try to figure out and reason logically bereft of emotions, you realize that you are immersing yourself into thoughts of yonder which keep on regurgitating like some emetic causing déjà vu. Is it a spell cast? You ponder. Is the feeling reclusive? Or everyone at some point goes through this phase.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have developed some kind of inertia. Both mental and physical. I have lost the zeal that I initially had. Whether or not I will recover it has great to do with time. They say time is a healer. Everything we do has a destiny, say end.

Just realized that I don’t love reading anymore and writing also. Then again, knowledge is the basis of wealth. Whether you have formal or informal education, the wealth of wisdom acquired over time is the reason you are where you are. You can decide to take advantage of the brains in your head or do nothing about them. Then again there is the aspect of opportunity, which you seldom know when it will strike. I just wish I could revive the fanaticism of being zetetic. And moving on to muster to be a master in my own game. But I digress each time.

Again, there is the drooping in my results. I dunno what I have not been doing right. I need to tighten my leather belt with regard to time wastage. Say, sticking to a rote which I have been trying hard to follow and the results have been a spoiler. I am left famished in a sense. Maybe I should just look for a way of doing thing my own way. And forget about the other ways. Thy own way is creative, full of imagination and leaves room for amelioration. Right?

I should find a way of draining away these two source of fatigue, physical and psychological. Let me reassure myself that all things will end well. I will revive my lost literary skills, read that which I am supposed to read. Workout even when I am not feeling like and reduce on so uncanny addictions that contribute to low self-esteem.

But how do I get the vis back? Will it be as peptic as it used to be? Should I consult a counselor or just take the bull by its horns? These are just but few of the questions that I usually ask myself. In investments lingo, they are referred to as VAR (Value at Risk) queries. Maybe I should try out Google, and find out if I can rekindle the prior fervor that seemed unmanageable.

Reminds me of that ‘LAZY SONG’ by Bruno Mars.

Hasta La Vista, Baby

[Picture Source: Pixabay.com]

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MONTE CARLO FALLACY

The broke me is contemplating starting a career in gambling. No! am just a noble speculator. The only problem with this kind of speculation or gambling is that there are no derivatives or a way to transfer risk so that you are not left despondent by hedging against the risk of losing money. I am contemplating joining one of the many football betting sites to try my hand in being a millionaire. And I want to gamble with other people’s money.  Yo! Mshwari, allow me to take this risk. When I get mullahs, you will also be smiling, right.

Obviously you are wondering why I will use loaned money to play. Practically, I have no money of my own. I am a lazy bone. I love freebies. So I have no margin to seize a probable get rich quick gamble. Since getting a job has been quite a tussle on my side. And here is why. I have contemplated going for mjengo, or car washing. But the moment I think about the same, I usually feel debased and weary. But I need money. Money to print a CV and a cover letter. I don’t believe in employment bureaus because they take money away from me. I also need money to photocopy my certificates. And some money to drop the relevant documents to the places I am interested in jump-starting a career in. Sadly it would be gloomy for me if a prospective employer heard I am into gambling. But I have a ready answer.

The other problem is that I don’t feel like working for any firm at the moment. I do not have the acumen to engage in a business and lastly, I am impatient because taking an initiative has been dreary. I have been impatient for quite a long time. Years are passing and my status has not ameliorated yet am tormenting myself undergoing mental drudgery all in the name of getting an education. Will I quit the quest? No. Notwithstanding that I am still stuck in a rut. I think that this revelation is worthy for a guy who wants to venture in a career of gambling.

As such, I am on a mission to be inducted into the career of gambling. But first, I have to finish my studies. Gambling will start once I have completed my studies which is less than a month’s time. I hope that gambling will sustain my rent, help me go places and find new interests.

Why gambling you may ask? Everything you do in life has a reason. I want to make easy and quick money. There are times I will lose, there are times I will gain. And there are times I will cry. Plus the process only involves sitting and looking at previous results, analyzing and making projections. I think am smart enough given that I know about permutations and combinations and probability and Venn diagrams and stochastic processes. I wish I could be able to perform simulations that are devoid of regrets, like Monte Carlo, huh. Anyway, those are just wishes.

You have heard naysayers with their malevolent insinuations degrade betting. They have their own reason why they spite what is ethically right given that the government gets taxes, people are employed through the betting institutions, the few lucky fellows smile all the way to the bank and people who sure bet with positive results are able to meet their short term deficits. Forget about match fixers.

On the flip-side, we have seen guys who have hanged themselves, having lost their money which is also comparable to banking your money given the high volatility with which many banks are being liquidated and finances lost. There is also the ominous effects of addiction. Which I am sure will make me captive betrothed in it once I start betting.

But who cares, man must survive. If this is not right ethically, then it should not have be instituted and sanctioned in the first place. So like any fellow who needs petty cash for survival, after am through with my exam, trust you me, gambling is the way to go.

PS: Monte Carlo fallacy is a posh name as opposed to gambling. It makes it look like some nerdy engagement though the photo discredits the whole ideology of this procedure first used out during nuclear probabilistic trials.

Hasta La Vista Baby.


[Photo Source: Google Images]

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THE POST CAMPUS BABE

“You need to make money before you can even think of ever getting a date with me,” she told me. “Until you get enough in the bank, I am out of bounds.”

She works for the percepteur and that means she has a rough idea of how much you pocket at the end of the month. Ideally, she only needs to know your name and work station and alas, she can decide if you are worth dating or not. Plus she is a schemer, not the average chic who only thinks of going for fun filled rendezvous in ritzy hotels then she is left bereft at the end of the day. I felt challenged when she intimated to me about her net worth. Am still reeling from the hangover of having mused why a good girl would decide to take this route.

Welcome to the world of sponsors. I don’t know why she was so comfortable to let me know of her overtures yet I was not even a close acquaintance.  What started out as a trivial conversation after some brief reading turned out to be a real eye opener of what the average lady wants.

The average Kenyan girl, lets say post campus wants to be showered with mullahs. Unless she is straight, that is, has been a church goer for quite a while, scored a good grade in campus and thus knows what she wants is life is a good job, or probably has got no opportunity, she will strive to get the life only existential in Utopia. The average lady wants class, she does not want to be showered with love. What’s love with no money ? Who wants to live in penury?

Let’s call this chic friend of mine Betty. She comes from a reasonable background where she never lacked and most would envy. Her peeps met in campus and as opposed to now when it is quite tricky sticking to your campus beau, her folks still are together. In fact, she does not know about Eastlands, (mahali masufferer ka sisi hupark). Whereupon she was asking me where Greenspan Mall in Donholm is because she has heard lotsa good gen about the area.

I first met Betty while we were undergrad students in Uon. Back then, I never interacted with her because the class difference was clear. She was a module 2 student and I a module one. It goes without doubt that to be a module 2 student, your folks or family was well endowed financially (This sentence defies common logic). Again we were worlds apart, they had their own cocoon and so did we. But the reason why we never interacted was because we were in a big class and you cannot interact with everyone. Plus I associated with a different class of people. Let’s say she was not my type. She told me they were "English speaking babes" and hustlers dudes like yours truly who was a "Sheng speaking dude" could not have the nerves to approach her. A fallacious argument whose proposition does not meet the material threshold to be considered worthy of inclusion in this blog but will be because it surfaced. 

Betty is the kind of chic who is baby faced. The one whose innocence is visual from afar and has subtle beauty. The pretty one who you take time to notice but when you do, you become addicted. She is quite affable but still reticent. Her voice is soft and sensuous, the kind you would love to listen to even when it gibbers nonsense. She also drives, an ergonomic car which is not stylish or elegant but still fuel-efficient given that she is a mean girl. In addition to that, she runs a couple of her own businesses (which I doubted from the word go). 


I just don’t know how she readily revealed so much to me in the short duration we have known each other. In fact, I got introduced to her by a campus buddy who does not shy away from interacting with chics. So he sometimes acts like a wingman when prospects look really promising. Plus he really had an interest in Betty until things happened that he will not ideally reveal. Betty is my classmate in a postgraduate class. She works, I don’t. So there lies a big class difference, again. Guess society has designed itself in such a way that guys like us have to struggle it out for real to give us bravery and stoicism. We passed in high school thinking it would offer a leeway, it's not. Chics like Betty who probably never got minimum entry points but still qualified for campus are way ahead. The guys she was recruited with, some are past 30 probably issued free newspaper for peanuts, have embarked on a journey like her. Plus she is younger than I. So if you have a pusher of a parent, you don't stay searching for a good job for long. As for the rest of us, we have to wait for an incentivized job because we hope that some guy will give us a chance later if not sooner.

“This guy wants me to accompany him to a international destination of my choice once I am through with my exams.” She told me hiding his identity from her Whatsapp conversation which she let me read. Obviously, when a girl tells you such stuff, she indirectly tells you, “Dude! please, am above your league, so don’t even think about it.” Obviously, I cannot even take her to an internal getaway let alone a holiday one like the one she was intimating. I decided to be a full-time student which is quite demanding, as for her, she took a leave to study.

“So will you accept the offer?” I asked feeling a little bit embarrassed and debased at the same time. These are the kinds of situations that bruise the ego but because you are a man you keep up appearances by being stoic.

“I am still weighing the options because I have barely known this guy for a year.” This is a recruiter who turned out to be a #Teammafisi after interviewing her, and given that he knew her net pay, in some bank she would not let me know, she easily gave in.

“That’s an offer I will be salivating at.” I told her. Obviously, I know how some of these unions end. Either the break up is pathetic or it results in being the mpango wa kando. While listening to her, I could only imagine if this was my sister. Why should a girl with a good job, comes from a relatively stable background (She lives in the suburbs nest to the house on the hill) decide to have a sponsor?

“I love this friend because he has the mullahs to finance my lifestyle. He is a corporate honcho in a bank. Drives a mint who's a horse on the road which cruise on when he is available and does not fail to show his Rolex Submariner to folks who understand the brand.” Hitherto, she was calling him so until I forced to admit that he was not a friend but a sponsor because he is headed towards where life begins.

“Tier one or two?” I asked her.

“What’s that?” she asked back. I went ahead and explained providing examples to her decipher the difference upon which she told me he works in a tier one bank.

“So he is chummed.” I interjected.

“I recently saw his net and felt wet. I must say it is quite impressive because as girls, what whets or drives us is what you have in the bank as a man. Brains with no money is like a train without an engine. It goes nowhere." 

I momentarily recalled that Blueband ad where the them song involved a train. 'B without BB is like a train without an engine.'

"So with regards to handsomeness, I don't mind a chimpanzee as long as he mints and I can spend at my discretion.”

“What about Dave?” my buddy asked having known him from the conversations they normally have. Dave is her boyfriend. The one who she says has promise in future life and both have been introduced to either family. They as such meet frequently only that Dave does not know about the sponsor, because she hides the Whatsapp conversations in an app called Vault which she also hides when meeting the men in her life. So neither party knows the other.

“If I wanted to get married today, I would, in fact with a rich man. Only that am still safeguarding my future. I also need to enjoy while young.”

So Dave is the official boyfriend while the bank manager and another bunch of men fund her lifestyle because there are some things that your peeps cannot do for you. Like they cannot take you to expensive hotels or joints every Friday to wine and dine. And other things that she only knows best. In fact, she was just telling me point blank that I needed to make enough money to be able to even think of a date with her which would never happen because by then, she will be sell by date and some new breeds will have risen. Plus I know what she can do, she was too liberal with words. But in the meantime studies first for me. Let me see if it will aid in ameliorating my depressed financial status in the future.

Maybe, the reason why our society has become sponsor driven is because we have men who are not able to offer ladies the lifestyle they want. Social media that fancies ladies who are doing well as a result of the same. Guys like us who are supposed to have wedded by now can’t because all the ladies we want won’t accept a relationship that they think is headed nowhere (Moneytalks. No romance without finance). Ladies who even though have money, have to get a man no matter how ugly he is, just to finance their other lifestyle. If a lady who is at least stable like Betty cannot be patient with her man, what of that girl who even gets an opportunity to have such a life. But in economics, there is the insatiable human wants. You have but you always want more.

Anyway, I am not supposed to judge. She is not in this sponsor kind of life to continue being poor. It's symbiotic on her part because she gains like an ox-pecker. She has in the meantime invested prudently judging by her standards because she ensures her expenses are at a minimum. Given that her lifestyle is bankrolled, she now wants finer things in life. She told me that her noble intentions should have been embraced by all ladies out there seeking sponsors, but all they do is use the money they get on vanity. This like includes stuff like going to expensive salons, adorning designer raiment, wearing exotic make-up and some other cosy costs that they always have to work hard for only they know how.

I still don’t know the number of sponsors Betty has. But they are not few. She says she will get married someday. Now, she needs to make money. Lots of money. Reason why she still does camera attire and wears the same hairstyle so that she is not left at a limbo.

PS: Let's face it. You all know that it ain't easy landing a job in Kenya whether you apply or don't apply. But one factor that changes all that is connections, not money. Chances are Betty got the job courtesy of her folks oiling the palms of some unknown recipients given that some of the colleagues she got recruited with are nearing the age where life begins.

Hasta La Vista Baby.

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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HUDUMA CENTRE

There is nothing as tedious as waiting to renew or apply for a duplicate identify card. Especially when it is at Huduma Centre, the one located in GPO and you arrive mid morning.  Hitherto, I thought it would take me few minutes and am through with the process. I wrote this piece about two months ago while waiting for my turn to renew my ID. Ideally, I had already stayed for one hour inside the hall before commencing this write up. I remember looking at nothing in particular. Just meditating or maybe lolling.

Still, approximately 105 souls are ahead of me. That was visible given the digits on my receipt. ‘This requires patience another’ I told myself. ‘100  people have been served  already while am waiting.’

At this point, I had to retrieve my phone and pea myself shughli. Because I had also slept for close to half an hour. You see, am a three am man. Not that I usually get to bed at that time, but that's the time I arise.

Initially, I was at the taxman, to be precise, the transport wing to take my invoice since my DL got lost. It was so easy a process I was quite impressed. Then I remembered I needed to get a new I'd. Not that I didn’t have one but because getting a new one that looks like an ATM card is something I earnestly longed for. To have two, an old one and the new one. My aunt who works at the immigration department had suggested I needed to renew the old one. The one that signified am a second generation bugger. I AM NOT sure how this new ones are called.

Immediately infront of me was a hot mama. Let me say so because she was a lady. She spoke like she is from the coast. The sweet and flawless Swahili that scintillates and you want to hear more even though you are not concentrating on the message. The fact that she had high cheekbones, you couldn't help but stare. Then, that programmed lady who says, "Now serving a888, go to counter no.1" disrupted me from hearing what she was saying. She had a broken screen Techno phone, looked like she had also been waiting. Beside me, was a dude who had no watch with a faded white t-shirt turned cream. He was in fitting khaki pants and shoes that had holes in front. They looked frogfish or like the Volkswagen beetle we used to call pokopoko chura back then. He had no socks, kind of gross. And his feet looked scaly and mpararo. Next to him was an Indian banyan. Sharp, bespectacled and in a bespoke grey jacket. The kind that is sagging but still looks like it is fitting. Still it allowed room for breathing by the armpits if you know what I mean. He also tightly clutched on his iPhone just to show us he was owning a gadget. The old one that probably has the status of an iPhone. I also loved his shoes, shiny and fitting. As opposed to him, I was penning in some nondescript Asian phone which served the purpose it was meant to, communication.

I was writing because I do not have eidetic memory. In front were another bunch of gentlemen who were conversing. They had faded caps that had lost colour as a result of being over worn. Their shirts were also worn out. You just needed to look at the collar and you can easily conclude they were probably hustling, like yours truly only that they were doing it late in life. Or they probably had disguised themselves. You know, they looked like kuyos.

Hunger pangs started driving me crazy. ‘Looks like I will be staying another hour in here,’ I told myself. It was past two. However, I could not spot hot babes. Those that make you ogle because Mother Nature endowed them with the voluptuous hips, charming beauty or a bewitching smile you can't help but gaze or stare.

Looking in front, I saw this guy who was serving guys. I loved his hairline which was great on his face shape. In fact he looked like a model without hard part disconnection, as his was simply cut with sheers for a more natural short hair look. I guess he probably went to one of the finest barbers around judging by the way it gave his face a model’s look, plus he was tall. The only folly is that he looked old from afar. 

But this guys who tend to ID seekers were quite very hard working as opposed to the ideological belief that government employees are very slow. Reminds me of Zootopia, that scene at the government offices, seen it. As opposed to the usual sluggish nature of most government employees, they worked like it's a machine they were made of. They never got tired. If they did, they would be quickly replaced by another more agile fellow. But when you have a sea of humanity looking at you, you sure know you must deliver. There is no compromise. Maybe they were adhering to the motto on the wall that, "Efficient service available at the convenience of the citizen".
At that point I remember ceasing to continue writing. ‘Wacha niachie hapo Juu hii njaa joo. Ni ngori.’

Then I started feeling like going to the loo but was afraid of asking where the Damn place is. Chances are, you will find them in a pathetic state, the usual government facilities. Also, there should have been a place you can buy some water. To quench your thirst. This is a huduma centre na hata hakuna chai kuwapa wageni unaowahudumia.

Like most public governmental offices, there was a notification on the walls indicating no photo taking. But when you are despondent as a result of boredom, you may be tempted to take a photo. Yes, it's a probability. But rules can be broken, right. Like you can take  Selfies kichini ya maji.

Then all of a sudden the progress of the queue ceased for five minutes and I felT like you would fall the next minute. But since I was seated, I just waited and pretended I was alright. Because patience pays. It aids to keep you calm. Even those first time internationals who travel to the USA for ten or more hours have to be patient. It's a virtue.

Then there are these kind of guys who smile and remain looking at what caught their attention with their brown teeth also aiding in vision. There was this man who had a book. The ‘Millionaire Mind by Thomas J Stanley, PhD’. Damn do you need a suffix at the end of your name to sell? Or is it just a way of telling guys, ‘I am well read’. Who even cares about titles in this age and time? Then there was this damsel reading Joel Austin. I found one of his books quite bland. But you really need a deeper Christian mindset to imbue the contents. It's just normal for me to say so because my Catholic status does not endow me the spirituality of possession. Maybe am just cynical. But it's just me. Methinks the issue of spirituality is a personal affair.

‘Inakuanga sacrifice ya the whole day’. A guy tells me. Then we chatted for a while until we realized we are having no more words to share. Judging by the fact that I was now doing three hours on a continuous basis yet it looked like I was not going to be through with the process as early as I had anticipated. It made me feel wasted and used like a lady feels after a quickie. But that is the price you pay for engaging in such an activity. One that gets boring overtime especially if you have no chat mate. Even if you did have, you cannot continue talking for more than two hours without lacking words to tell the other person.

As I was writing this, I had slept more than three times. When I woke up and feeling bored I continued scribing. A pair of two chicks captured my attention and being the  passive guy I took no action. Just imagined what they were thinking seeing me slumbering.

‘It's almost my turn to be served.’  The queue was snaking and if this is the consequence of having to renew an ID, probably next time I will use the easiest route, not necessarily having to issue some soft dollars. But in the event I will be in a job requiring most of my time, then I will use those alternative ways.

Did I mention that there is that point where your finger prints are taken by either a dude or a lady. I wish these guys were more intuitive. How does it feel when a hot lady has to grab your middle finger then rolls your finger over the ink before taking the plain impressions on your fingerprint card? Any dirty minded fellow will not fail to be naughty just to ease up the formality of a process if the lady gets the point. If the lady's hands and fingers are soft, that's the point you start making castles in the air and probably you may en up smudging.


Anyway.

The model like guy is the person who took a photo of me. Me thinks he probably  side hustles as a model because he was tall with the frame of one. I remember  standing on an elevated platform so that he could take my snap and he still towered above me which made me feel inadequate because I wish I was taller.

PS: I picked my ID and DL on the same date a month later. I love the new look ID, its coloured. Oh! In fact, my phone had refused to charge since that day and I only had it repaired today and downloaded part of this excerpt from my google notes. I will still be holding on to my Small Wiko phone which has served me fine in the next few weeks as I strategize on getting a Galaxy Note even though I have no reliable income. But all things are possible.

Hasta La Vista, Baby.

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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ISSUES

Way back when I was still in primary school, Kantai rapped about ‘Issues’. I had to listen to it again just to be up to date on the lyrics. As a matter of fact, there was a line that went like, 'I got issues that can't be absorbed by a tissue.' Am also going through a complicated phase in life. Girly issues, those that I cannot talk about because they are dear to the heart. School issues, those that make you a nerd even if you want to be a bubbly extrovert who oozes a sphere of warmth and a debonair condescending aura. Money issues, because money is the reason why we do that which we do and live our lives either in indigence, ease or abundance. And overall, just many issues that make life a real challenge but since you don't know tomorrow, there is always that caveat to continue laboring till you get a big break.

There is nothing as troublesome as trying to be in the dating scene and all you have are just illusions of how it should be. Worse of all is if the notion that you think you are the party who tries to keep it going. You are sometimes forced to retract and take that seat on the cliff to ponder about how life has been in general. Why do ladies behave the way they do? Don’t they know they irritate when in actual sense we are trying not to be bitter because there is more good than bad when we want them to converse as it is the only way of letting that which is clogged in the heart. However, it reaches a point you realize someone does not want you and you are forced to move on. They probably moved way ahead, only you never read the telltales early enough to hedge against the risk of a broken heart which comes as a result of break-ups. Which are not good to either party because they make you socially paralyzed but you pick up the pieces and move on ahead.

I hate that I have become subservient to the institution of scholarship. It’s a venture I thought would be pro tem without too much captivity in terms of reducing on the effects making me a slave to myself. Yes, because I immersed myself in it, I have to take full responsibility of my actions. The payoff may not be justified but the fact that patience pays does not give me a reason to forego my pursuit. I just have to love my predicaments and work towards turning them into strengths because that is what we need to do. You find you have dedicated too much time to something but you are yet to get to the industry average standards and as such, you are forced to pump in more. But even though you try, you only have 24 hours like everyone else. Which means it is essential to stick to your rote to get maximum returns or make use of time which should be revered.

Oh! there is also the issue of forfeiting being in the social scene. You realize you have to become a nerd when engaging in some academic pursuits. They come with subtle caveats that deter you from doing that which you would have done. Like enjoying a cold sweaty bottle of your favourite ale, or going on a long road trip to have fun, or maybe just having your own time to reflect on that which makes you happy as a man. And this attachment causing self-induced confinement probably caused that belle to call it a day through unethical ways of cutting all communication between the two of you by not replying messages or receiving calls. But you learnt from the situation the hard way and every experience in life is a teacher. You now are bequeathed with gem given that you can take filth even amid conditions that are severe and ominous.

I also have got issues with ladies who think that they should ape the rollercoaster lifestyles of our perceived socialites that has taken them from the chains of penury to being most girl's favourite idol. Sometimes it baffles me how ladies have got so obsessed with socialites so much so that they wish they had a life like theirs. Showcasing or purporting to own houses they may or may not own. Driving cars they make the average chick who has curtailed ambition think that she may never get there no matter what she does. These socialites have set precedents that if you have a daughter, you will probably rue if you cannot provide for her and she becomes rebellious thinking that becoming a socialite in the Kenyan context is the way to go. But it’s also a profession that comes with killing the conscience, sacrificing certain luxuries like never worrying about your health and body and being a social media fanatic. Having been in a discussion about socialites, I am certain that indeed, even married women who are undergoing mid-life crisis would want just a piece of what the high life socialite is going through.

Perhaps the most implosive reason why my writing is undergoing through periods of attenuation is due to my perpetual lack of interest. I wish I was half as active as I used to be before things happened and I had to take responsibility. But I have to reignite it ostentatiously through thick and thin even though I am not as dynamic as I should be by adopting a resplendent tact of splendid brilliance in my current tasks. Which is itself easy to say but implementing is as hard as cracking a macadamia nut with your own teeth.

Amid all the issues, I was able to be invited to one interview to be a sales guy. Am gradually becoming an optimistic after becoming a discouraged job seeker. What I am not sure is if I will eventually land a position I want in future given that I have become very impatient in the careers I undertake. If those chaps find me worthy of a job, I will take it. In fact, it will give me a new dispensation of doing something I never thought I would do. I currently love doing that I never wanted to do just because I will get an avenue of writing something after going through it. And writing to me is beyond the passion of waiting for things to happen, but making things happen. Never mind that my hustler traits are not as insurgent as they should be.

And on that note I have to sign off hoping all goes well with my usually signature.

Hasta La Vista, Baby.

[Picture Source: 58pic.com]

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