STARTING AGAIN

We all spire to achieve self-actualization. A utopic world where things work for us effortlessly as opposed to us working through thick and thin to make ends meet to survive. Indeed, in that stage, all you need is to continue relishing the near flawless life people think you have hoping that you never destroy the robust reputation you have created hitherto. And that means influence and power. They come naturally and at that stage in life, you become a sage. Not just that, but also one of repute and admiration. That is what the few of us who know about such a state aspire to be in even though it may be boring. Because of the constant scrutiny that people have over your life.

Parents. They all have an aspiration to see their children doing well in life. Even deviant and runaway ones at some point feel the heat and sometimes find a way to be part of their kids’ life no matter how remote that association may be.

That said, there is a generation of parents who are really having it rough. Especially the proletariat ones who thought that taking their children to university was a breather once they finished school. Guess they overlooked the phrase that “quality matters”, when they were taking their progeny to campus. After finishing campus, they must now contend to seeing their graduates sons and daughters wallowing around jobless instead of taking a glimpse at a picture hanged on the wall, smiling exuberantly. That’s how folks from where I come from believe they should be seeing their educated and learned daughters and sons other than the possibility of being called every now and then when they are far.

It's like life has made them to start afresh. Albeit, finishing university would mean a good job, and hope for abundance. Hope that they will take care of their parents and outdo them once they come of age. But that is now a fallacy. Parents are still the ones who take care of their children years after completing university. There is a certain notion that they are people with the money because of their age. They give us pocket money, clothe us, and house us not forgetting that they feed us. Plus, a whole other bunch of stuff that only them parents know about. It’s worse when another parent thinks a proletariat parent has connections and the strings to aid his child secure a job when in reality he wishes he would nail his son or daughter a job. Skewed perception huh!

But for a bloke or lass whose folks never made it to be proletariats or one who is independent, it means fighting by crook and cranny for or to be what he wants in life. This is the individual who never fears anything in life. He takes what comes his way and moves on by horning the skills learnt into an incoming generating project. The degree of satisfaction varies among these individuals but one thing that remains is that they keep the spirit burning. The zetetic ones forget about employment and hustle hard in their own business. For the unlucky ones who think that crime is the ‘it thing’, hessy wa Kayole or Dandora or Githurai will use his metal, a small, discreet and deadly ammunition as perfect mechanism for dispatching these outlaws for good. Later, unethical bloggers will post the gory pictures of lads barely past their mid-twenties having bit the bullet on their blogs. Those reddened holes oozing with dark congealing blood in a lifeless body. Is this abetting or reducing crime? Sad that the trigger happy hessy feels that a gun is part of himself as opposed to seeing it as a tool of death.

Hard questions that I am not sure I can answer because I am not an activist. As an addition, kids of some nimble proletariats have made it in life and that only means that at times, parents can play a vital role in making their sons become individuals of societal admiration if they do things well.

Away from parents and feeling sorry for those who would wish to have jobs but end up sleeping most of the day because they have nothing to do, there is an elephant that I am currently dealing with. It has refused to get out of my house. It has stuck on me like a black stein on a white shirt. Until I finish taking care of it, my mind will be unsettled. So am starting it again after I had my chips. A situation which I had to chance my arm at even though I was not well prepared for the battle.

I am upbeat this time round that I will ace the test given that I am planning to do things the hard way as opposed to the more lackadaisical approach that I took in my intent to be a victor. Starting again what you have done before can be tricky. You feel like you know it but given that you never made it, you must have the conscience of a novice.

Thinking of redoing my CFA Level II exams was not easy. I had thought of giving up till some time in future. Now I am buoyed and confident that I will not let this chance go to the dogs. I want to make the best out of it. And that means starting early so that I am not caught up with the frustrations of the last-minute man. What I am sure about is that this will be a painstaking battle which am preparing for with the zeal of a warrior on oath.

I want to forget that I was having a hard time before. I want to remain focused on the goal. I am sure I will make it and it is not something that I am in doubt about. I will give it the best shot and aim like my whole life depends on it even though it does not. Even when hope seems to be fading, I will make sure I am committed to the course and be diligent. Lastly, I will increase the man hours and work on my speed and accuracy.

That to me is what I have learnt while being an online worker in what I do. That speed and accuracy counts a lot in whatever one does. And once you have aced the two, my friend.

Hasta La Vista Baby

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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PREPARING FOR DISAPPOINTMENT

As I type these unsavory words on the keys, I feel emaciated regarding the inceptive peptic feeling I had when I embarked on a certain journey. That I have sank deeper and deeper into emptiness and apathy is a stigma I cannot explain. I have this invincible feeling that makes me kind of miserable. I feel like I want to express my feelings sincerely, but I cannot. Diction is elusive.

You see, I keep on bawling like a baby and throwing tantrums like a toddler in my quest for attaining things. Which makes it hard for me to get a grip on my own mind. I feel desolate and want to childishly say, ‘I want my mummy.’

Every negative emotion is buried before I can even feel it, making me passive and weak and every other feeling is crammed into my chest. Problem is, that space is getting so full, so much harder to ignore. Some inner pain is bottling up and I feel like I want to release the internal pressure that is astronomically turgid. Even my personal happiness is tinged with sadness. I  find myself caught between feelings so antagonistic to one another.

How do I defuse this bomb without triggering the damage I seek to avoid?

I think it’s legit to fail. Like every other soul, I fear failure. That is why it took me more time than ever to sit down and pen this post that was haunting like the spirits of the dead are which I feel are roaming where I am, walking around as ghosts. In my small room making me have hellish dreams that are unimaginable. Slowly, it is sinking in. That, yes, at some point in life, failure is a must whether we prepare for the feat or not.

I had been waiting for my CFA results but I was having this mixed kind of feeling. I was scared and equally confident even though pessimism was at a higher percentage than expected.

About a year ago, I wrote about the feeling of passing CFA exams here. A year later, am writing about failing. Yes, I failed and I must admit that I rest the blame entirely on my lack of preparing well and greed for petty money that never helped me out in any way. I cannot account for anything worthwhile out of the cash anyway.

 As I had intimated before, I was cynical about the results after sitting for my exams. I knew I had not given my all in terms of the requisite preparation required to sit the exam. I was wobbly somehow.

Looking back, it has been a lesson well learnt. That it is only responsible to go to a battle well-armed to the teeth and never leave anything to chance for the enemy to detect the loopholes if any and use it to disadvantage you. And in the event they detect sloppiness, you have a fall back plan that resuscitates the battle and you bounce back with an epic resurgence.

I must admit that I prepared well for the enemy given that I was average in terms of the scores that I had in my final results. The only problem was that I never put my skills into use before going to face the enemy. I never did pilot editions, auto simulation and trial and error mockups in my quest to conquer. I was ill prepared because of fear. Fear is bad.

I must admit that I was not as thorough as I should have been. The extent to which I had whet my intellectual acumen was not as nimble.

There were many days I wasted on the run up to the exam engaging in futile trivialities. But the biggest reason why I was ill prepared was because of being stressed. Especially at the workplace. I only revised consistently for only a week. Which is not adequate.

I was stressed out in my job. I have come to learn that a sedentary lifestyle is crucial if you are preparing for an exam. If you are up and about, chances are you will never be settled and ready to tackle an exam without having trouble in executing that which you wanted to achieve effortlessly without I wish I knew.

Now I have this heuristic feeling that has made me strong.

When I was preparing for the exam, I never took into consideration the revision part which is very crucial. I was adamant in revising using questions preferring to dwell on notes as opposed to doing similar exam questions to prepare myself for what lay ahead.

The truth is that I read everything that I was required to, twice. Unfortunately, when it came to the questions bit, I never took them seriously. I thought I was a genius. Therefore, there was no need to dwell into questions because I could use my mind to piece up those that I never understood.

I remember a certain friend telling me that there is a high likelihood of passing the exam if you guess rightly by doing so intelligently. I really laughed and told him to guess in two exams because they are closed ended questions and he ended up scoring only a third of the questions correctly. I had disputed his assumption and it turned out right.

There is nothing as demanding as preparing for a CFA exam. It is a mere six-hour exam that makes you a social recluse and an academic nerd that whether you pass it or not, you know where the shoe pinches.

I did fear taking exams to gauge myself on where I was strong and in instances where I was week. Plus, I was using a computer and using it proved kind of tricky for revision purposes especially when doing scenario based questions. Lesson learnt, the antiquated way of revision still outdoes using softs. It is best way to you use papers and books to read and revise as opposed to using computers and phones because the radiation effect may transpire.

I barely did two exams before taking the main exam. Which I never even finshed. I did one and failed disastrously and thought of focusing on mastery of the notes as opposed to trying out other exams. That was another receipt of a havoc in wait. CFA is a question based exam and the many you can tackle correctly with ease set by different course providers, the better for you as an individual because you will be able to get the gist of the content.

The exam bit was my weakness because they  essentially help in testing knowledge that is presumed you have got through studying the coursework. It did measure my knowledge and the truth is that I was deficient in making it to the few who passed it successfully.

Would have favourable results changed my fate? I doubt. There is no employer who recognizes the value of an employee who only has knowledge unless the skills and knowledge result in revenue on the part of the employer. Hence you may have knowledge but if it takes time for it to be fruitful, then you are as good as a waste. Which is not essentially true.

During the exam, which I did and though was not that hard as I had thought, I felt like I was preparing for the wrong questions. While the questions I was tackling were direct and straight forward, those that I had used for revision were complicated and too much time consuming I felt that I did not need them for my revision purposes. Little did I know that they were crucial for the ultimate goal of doing the real exams that is graded and can help or may not help in later life.

When I finished the papers, I instantly knew that I was having a fifty-fifty chance of passing the exams. And truth be told, I had been praying silently that the exams be favourable owing to the many hours I had put into study and the nights I had decided not to go and party. But critically looking at the hours, I was not as thorough as I should have been in optimizing them to the fullest.

There was Whatsapp that was a distracting tenet, and the need to play Candy crash when I was bored. I never pushed myself to the limit this time round like I had when I was doing my level one exams. I should have pressed hard. I should have revised more. I should have dedicated more time not reading like a stuttering preacher reads the bible but spent more weeks answering exam questions. My memory capacity then could not be able to retrieve the prior information and put it into good use in answering the exam.

Then the day for receiving the exams came and I was eagerly waiting like my friends were. There is a friend who I knew would not pass exam owing to the fact that he had not revised as he should have for exam. He did a mere three weeks for revision which is abnormal because he studied for one and half months for the course work. I remember see him struggle and I knew he was a disaster in waiting.

The morning when the results were to be mailed, I went and check my mail but found nothing. Yet the actual time for transmission was 0900hrs ET time. During the rest of the day, I kept on refreshing my mail and it was not until around eight in the night when I woke up from a siesta to find my results and the regret message that I was more than expecting.

I should say that in the event that I could have passed that exam, then I would have been a genius. I would have screamed my heart out for the entire world to know I had been victorious. Because I was doing two jobs, and reading at the same time. But it was not to be because I ended up failing and I had crafted my own casket. They say as you make your bed, so you must lie on it. I am lying on the after effects of my own making in failure.

Since I normally work at night, that day I felt disheveled and weak. Yes, it was eminent but the truth is that we all expect good results at the end of the day. Chances are, I would have worked better and energetic would I have received good results. At that moment, my eyes started becoming glazed with a glassy layer of tears and they almost slid from my cheeks but I courageously snuffled. It’s not like my life would end if I did not pass. I was too sad to I wanted cry out and wail. I felt a burden had clogged on my system because it had choked the little hope I had out of my heart.

I felt like I wanted to sleep. Yet I could not slumber once in bed. Thoughts were like a carousel in my head. To kill the antipathy, I remember calling my friends and they intimated how they could not work that day. Well as opposed to them, I was able to work until emotions raged high because I could not be able to find work online and my hourly earnings were plummeting at an evanescent rate which made me want to crash the computer because I have got this temper. I decided to go and sleep it off. To forget about the sorrows, the sacrifices, the friends I have lost and the job I would have been in had I not been so much focused on the exam at the expense of exam.

Now I have learnt it the hard and better way. I will devote time like in my quest to nail level two like I devoted time for level one. I have learnt how to be dedicated and stick to rote come what may. I think passing the exam is not as important as what it inculcates and the knowledge you gain. While it would have boosted my ego, prepared me for the next phase that is the final leg, it has taught me more in my everyday life.

In the event that I had passed, I would have gone to the next stage with some braggadocio buoyed by the fact that I can do two jobs and still focus on studies and pass. Wrong. You cannot have three competing fledglings happening at once and you expect that you can juggle them successfully. At the end of the day, you will lose one, two or all.

I ended losing the few friends that I had after that. Someday, years from now when I will finish my CFA exams because I am planning to finish it come what may, I will rekindle the friendship if it can be rejuvenated. I feel like I have lost a lot. Nobody even calls to say hi even though I bought a phone. Even my immediate kith and kin that include my mum and dad have gone mute. I have not told them about the results and will tell them later on when I feel philanthropic enough.

Even the gal I used to talk to who was a soul mate went mum and I think she will never talk to me again soon because she is the type who catches feelings but never admits that she feels let down. And she will not blink first, neither will I.Both egotistical individuals who fear expressing their minds or letting go of the pride. Apparently, she is the type who asks how was your day when you call because she thinks she needs to know what happened. I once told her I took a certain lady for lunch and I could tell in her voice that she was not happy about it. That's it.

I bet we all go through this life’s moments. They are what make us strong. I know this is a season I will overcome. In the meantime, I will continue praying till something happens.

Hasta La Vista Baby

[Picture Source: My own].

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ALMOST DOESN'T COUNT

Near success that is elusive can be depressing or energizing. Your approach counts a lot regarding the eventuality. There are times you may reinvigorate the urge and be a perfect ten, or there are situations you may slug and let the endeavour lapse because you gave up hope along the way. Take cognizance that your ten is the benchmark you have set for yourself. Here’s why. Take the lazy me for instance, I have been trying to reach my ten in terms of weekly exercises to no avail. There is a guy who did 100,000 pushups and another 50,000 sit-ups in a year. This looks impractical or pretty simple depending on your date with the home or paid gym.

Well, it’s not. It’s very easy when you break the exercises into a daily activity with goals that are achievable, measurable and within your limit. He wrote that sometimes he did more than he was required and recorded the daily activities so as not to confuse the exact number of reps he had done on a year to date basis. Thus, when he was not feeling like working out, the excess workouts cushioned for those rest days. And he only did the exercises for thirty minutes in a day. Gradually as his muscles got used to the action, he spent less time. As it turns out, he was able to do all the tasks even before the year lapsed. How? As he horned his skills, he found it easy to do more with continuous exercise and the time for doing the initial reps reduced. Obviously, he took small breaks within the reps. Voila, and that is his exercise regimen in a nutshell. Did he reach his ten? Sure, and that means he had to set new targets to be able to outdo his initial perfection. That's a surmise. In short, you can never reach the perfect ten. There is that psychological drill that keeps ringing a bell inciting that you have not reached there yet.

I, on the other hand is struggling with putting my act together in terms of sticking to my rote. I am the wobbly type. Guess money drives me more these days than the sheer urge to ameliorate myself holistically when it comes to doing what I am supposed to do. Let’s say I had dedicated myself by paying for the gym, chances are I would be going without absconding my regimen. Or in a sense was told that once you reach this goal, there is a reward, I am not lying, I swear I would do anything to get it if it involves something within my limit. Even if it means sacrificing that which I love most. Hell, I’ll do it just to satisfy my quest. If I falter along the way, I will say I tried.

Like me, most of us live in this illusory world where we make a lot of castles in the air. I set for myself a target of 5000 pushups and sit-ups but merely did 1000 reps of each. Still, I have an enviable stomach that my sister wishes she had because life is about wanting what another has. Don’t you sometimes envy another person’s body? Worse is when you are trapped in a quandary you feel you should free yourself from but the tenacity to forge on enters a declension. You try your best, and when you cannot make it to that level, you start drooping and like the common Joe or Jane, you make it a lifestyle of sticking to mediocrity.

And that is why majority of us are start things we never finish because we get weary along the way and when you are tepid, you cannot have resurgent forces to give you the desired impetus to get to where you want to be. This paucity is the reason why I am where I am and you are where you are. I am restating the obvious, huh!

 Away from that nonsensical snide, I was introduced to this guy who was from my alma matter and was an outstanding guy academically but was thinking of switching career into the investment industry. He scored a straight A in the nineties or eighties and went on to get a first-class degree in engineering. Damn is that not a feat we all desire academically. And in the workplace, he became extraordinarily good that he could he was almost on equal status with the CEO (his braggadocio not mine). He was the cocky type. Those who think that getting an A and first class gives you that authority of trampling over others. Apparently, my acquaintance had told him that I am candidate in the CFA program and hence he wanted us to talk matters investments. Well, you know that feeling you get when you find someone who you can relate to about something you have in common. I felt that way. It was like reminiscing those days in high school or campus with a guy you have not met in ages.

Let me call this bugger Vaite, it is improper but you have to give it up to him for his larger than life approach towards life. Well, at some point in life and at a certain age, there are things that take a subtle significance in your life. You don’t need to go about telling every other guy you meet that you were a genius in class. I too was one until life happened. Henceforth, I never talk about my achievements in class. There is nothing to smile about them when the same is not reflected in your life. At most, you should inspire others to want to be like you, failure of which you are a loser. That should not mean that you create that mentality. On the contrary, it should come naturally. People should feel like they should want be like you or outdo what you have achieved instead of telling them that they need to ape what you have done.

So, our conversation kicked off concerning the financial crisis that rocked the world in 2007-2008. I am not so much conversant with the reasons that led to its collapse but there was a mention of fixed income and financial derivates that come into play that caused the collapse. In fact, according to the Big Short movie, it is collateralized debt obligation, a type of asset backed security, that led to the financial crisis that rocked most of the West world and Asian Tigers with spillover effects witnessed in African economic powerhouses like Egypt and South Africa.

Without doubt, I respect Vaite and his intellectual acumen. A guy at his age should be thinking of self-actualization and not starting over again in a fitful career. In me opine, he should have been stable, living in his own home, driving a big car and having a stable family. Probably, having a cycle of friends, those we call the ‘whose’. Those whose name you mention, he says that, ‘I know that guy, and he is just a call away’. But after so many years of working overseas, in a South African country, he still lives in an SQ. Please! (you can say that with a socialite attitude and throw arms as you snap those fingers like a certain Arabian girl on Nairobi Diaries).

His flair for knowledge has seen Vaite keep a library of books in finance both in soft copy and hard copy. He told me he can never touch novels or books of such ilk. “Nikianza kusoma novel ntalala within five minutes.” He showed me the numerous eBooks he had on his phone and every book that I mentioned he had. He even showed me the ones he keeps on an app that I am not sure whether it is a source of legit books or they were procured through pirated platforms. I was a little bit aled and never verified the source of the books. Kindle or not, this guy reads like shit.

Well, I must admit that Vaite was sharp. Though there were those noticeable lapses in his peptalk when he started telling me that he does not regard level one and level two as a measure of achievement for a person pursuing CFA. That I felt a wuss is an understatement. He had belittled the efforts I had made in a word and termed that as a walkover for him. He only spoke highly of level three which he had no idea consisted of what. He may be right because he is a book worm. And he got straight A’s in both campus and high school. But here is a catch, you need to be on top of your game when it comes to this program especially the exam. It’s only easy for a bookworm who also develops reclusive tenets to crack it. Again, me opine.

“Mimi nilipata A high school, nikapata kila kitu campus sasa CFA ni nini?”

“Kwanza hio level one na two ni rahisi sana. Unaona hii kitabu ikona 1600 pages na nimesoma yote mara tano na hio ndio level one na two.”

Take cognizance that the two levels have a combined pages of about 6000 pages.

The problem with me is that when you sometimes tell me what I know and you are making assumptions without actual evidence, I normally smile and nod my head in agreement. But the truth is, some things in life need an experience. They don’t require the theoretical aspect.

I remember asking him if he had read Benjamin Graham’s book on value investing and Burton Malkiel’s , ‘A random walk down Wallstreet’.

“Hizo nimesoma mara kumi.” 

At that point, I felt a little bit red. I am still struggling to finish either books more than a year down the line and am stuck because I tell myself that once I buy a tablet, I will easily read the said books. Upus! And here is a guy who has read the books more than ten times I felt like telling him to write a synopsis and hand it over to me.

I was drinking my Tusker Malt and he was imbibing Guinness Kubwa. Only strong men drink Guinness. And he is the type who when he wants to talk to you, he has to pull you closer so that you can listen to what he says. Luckily, hanyeshi akiongea.

Since I had left my drink with my sister to go converse with this larger than life academic realist. I went back to go take my drink as I watched the local DJ mixing using VirtualDJ on the screen mounted on the walls. I then remembered those days when I wanted to be a DJ but the idea ended up in a natural death because of reasons that are surely baseless. I admit it, I am the guy who just loves everything, a Jack of all trades but a master of none. I really admired the way there was symphony in his music. The transition was seamless and delectable given that he was on top of his game with VirtualDJ.

As I was drinking, I noticed a certain lady gyrating to the tune. She had the rangi ya thao complexion, a slender body, a nice figure but not an eight with a small bosom which was almost flat. I could tell that an average body builder or a guy who has kulad nyagus vizuri would outdo her when it comes to matters chest. All in all she has mammary glands. But I loved the way she was dancing to the rhythm. Her slim waist was wiggling effortlessly you would think her body was meant for the music being played. I wanted to dance with her. But there was no space.

When she had had enough, she came and sat directly opposite me sipping her Heineken as she lip-synced to the chorus. I found myself also mirroring her. Well, I was not smitten.  The air was coy. The ambience was that which you cannot throw vibes. She looked like she wanted a chatmate and found that in me. But the music was blaring. I forgot to mention that we were in a local hood pub. Those small ones that don’t host more than thirty people. She started telling me things that I could not be able to hear. When I told her so, she started getting mad. I then moved closer to find out what she was saying but still could not be able to hear her words. I went back to my seat and decided to sip my drink slowly as I listened to music.

When her drink was over, I started noticing that she was having heavy eyes. That is when I remembered she was probably trying to tell me to buy her a drink to continue having those ecstatic moments and dance her heart out. The next thing I saw was her throwing the bottle she had behind her back on the floor and this really infuriated the plump lady waiter who was ready to kick her out for her disorderly behaviour. But the other male waiters calmed her down probably because she is a regular. Within minutes she was crying and her tears were flowing freely I thought she was in her menses. Given that she had a delectable relationship with the DJ, he came and hugged her calming her to stop shedding tears as things will be alright. “Be a big girl and wipe those crocodile tears.” That’s probably what he told her, “Then I will buy you drink, SAWA.”

I left her crying and decided to relocate to share a table with Vaite who had two bottles unopened. He was now talking about the political scene in the country. I loved his analysis, I wanted to join in but restrained my itch. But he was not as robust with matters politics.

Soon some odieros came enmass and sat next to us. A single dude with like ten babes in tow. Damn, I envied this guy. I on the other hand was solo. Because I don’t love drinking with the female folk. They each ordered a Tusker. “Kumbe this guys love Tusker.” Someone said, “I thought they would have ordered Heineken.” And there were some who were billowing cancer sticks with abandon. Well, I noticed a certain odiero who was tall and hard auburn hair with fuller hips and wanted to go tell her, ‘Baby, I am smitten. Can we dance.’ I was starting to get drunk.

We decided to relocate to the house of rhumba. If you start listening to this kind of music. You know what’s up. I was feeling hungry and thought that ka guy wa sausage choma, mayai boilo na smokies was around. I love these because they are readily available. Not like nyam chom which you have to wait for it to be prepared. But with the cholera scare, I bet he had been told to hold his horses until that time when things will go back to normal. Men, even though I had just eaten, I was still feeling some hunger pangs nudging the digestive juices. And by the time I was on my third drink, I was feeling inebriated I never wanted to touch another. Ubaya wa kukaa bila kunywa.

On the table we sat, I saw a guy drinking Balozi. A beer I have a low regard of. I wanted to tell my sister, “Hii ni ile pombe watu maskini hukunywa, plus si ya wazito wenye hupenda kunywa”. But rescinded on making the statement when I noticed that the guy was in talking terms with her. It turns out that he was also the owner of the joint and was probably drinking that beer because of its low alcoholic contents.

His name was Wash. Do you remember the guy who fought with the current Homabay  Town MP and the blogs and mainstream media were awash with the gen on how honourable individuals had resorted to violence by squaring it out on the podium.

                             

“Oh! So, this is the famous Dr. Wash.” I said as he nodded in agreement. In fact, he started showing us the pictures of the fight on his S7. The pictures he had were strategic given that they showed him on top of the MP. There was a scene where the incumbent area governor was trying to save face by arbitrating but clearly, he was far from where the fight was taking place. He told us he was thinking of withdrawing the assault case in court because that was behind him now.

I asked who won and the genesis of the fight. It turned out that it was rather a flimsy reason why they were fighting and that he won given that he was on top of the said MP.

Since we had left Vaite outside, probably ogling at the miros who had started to dance, he came and joined us and started by asking who Wash is. He introduced himself and being the rabid dog, Vaite started telling him that he looked like a crocodile. I could tell that Wash was really enraged but remained calm after being told about the ethnicity of Vaite. Plus, he never wanted to create the impression of the owner who beats up his revelers.

‘Odok ni ng’ani en customer na. Jokono gin ga kamano. Lakini dina goe goch tho.’

To make matters worse, Vaite was telling him that he looked like a crocodile with an elongated mouth like that of a crocodile while also demostarting with his hands how his mouth looked like. Plus, the expletives that he was hurling, you had just to be patient with his F-bombs which he felt nothing about.

Wash also introduced us to his wife. Rumour has it that she was his mpango given that his family is somewhere in Corinthians. The wife also doubled up as the person running the pub. But still, she was a non-independent entity because she was making many decisions based on what her ‘husband’ said. The music that was playing was from Wash’s phone from  Youtube.

I remember Wash talking over the phone and that meant the music had to stop for a while. When he had finished, he told us that the uncle was the one who was on the other end and was drinking in a joint a stone throw away. ‘Huyu anakunywa hapa karibu na nilimwambia niko na pub hapa. Hio pesa yake naihitaji sana. Yeye hapana jua mimi ni mwanabiashara. Na bado atakuja kuniomba pesa.’

I went out to pee and put the car in the right direction so that when I was out, it was just a matter of heading to the digs. Ongoing back found, I found Vaite in slumber land tightly clutching on his drink. Hapo ndio shida zilianza. He said he could not leave without finishing his drink. When we insisted on leaving, being the stubborn type, he emptied his drink on a glass and went with it in the car. You don’t want to imagine what happened on reaching where he lived.

Hasta la vista baby

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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ARCANE

We all have our hidden side that few ever know about. Even if they know, they never take it as an issue. Like the flaws in our bodies, a blog like this that none of my friend knows about. Secret families and careers some people engage in when not in familiar cohorts and things like nose picking, wanking and others atrocious acts you never imagine exist in humans. I also have a secret.

There is a Facebook friend who usually advertises his cult abandonly. At first I used to like his posts. Though I have not unfriended him, those Facebook algorithms realized his act was not my vibe and they never appear on my timeline. Actually, he is into illuminati. Which may be a faux given that sect members never do so openly. The reason why I ended up not loving his ways was that the money you are given was what some colleagues were earning in a good month. I am broke but am not ready for a life full of rituals like having to shave in a certain way, dress or act to suit forces that determine my financial leverage.

Going bald was a tough decision. Tonsure, or in layman terms a spiritual kind of thing. When you decide to renew your vows with a deity, that is actually the way to go. But it was a notion that was concocted somewhere in my gray matter that once I transition from being a salesperson in a bank, I would certainly go bald. When I started keeping hair, more than a dozen years ago, I never thought that one day I would go naked like I am on my head. Then, I was after hiding a scar. I was scared, and self-conscious. However, when I started keeping my hair long, I never bothered even a dime about the scar. My hair was like a cloth that hides the nudity of person. This scar got me whipped several nasty ones by a certain teacher whose boys were lecherous after I decided to have my hair long while the policy required we trim it to a decent size while heading to the dining hall for supper.

The first time I developed the scar was way back in primary school. I was a top chop, and most guys thought that the reason why my hair started receding from the back ending up into a scar was because I was spending too much time reading. That, in their opine was reason enough to motivate me to continue reading even though the scar was really making me feel less of a person. It was like a ringworm. And who develops a ringworm when he is almost finishing primary. So, to cut the long story short, the wring worm has withered many years and still exists to date. The only proof being that there is hair that now grows when I am having my head having a fullhouse..

Still on this ringworm, I remember there was a time when it had no hair and it was soft. One of my siblings or a close relative loved touching and playing with the spot because of its uniqueness. It was kind of elating my spirit because whoever was doing so was younger than me. And it had not grown to the size that it is currently. Soon, it may occupy my whole head. To make matters worse, I am naked health wise. Ever since I was given an exit, I never thought how the medical cover would have been of so much help in terms of rectifying the scar. I returned the cover having only depleted my optical and dental allocation.

Once a certain chic in campus asked me why I keep long hair and I told her that it was because of the scar. She thought I was trying to be a rebel. Yet, deep down, I knew it was because of my insecurity with the scar. The wrinkles on my face, the recessive dimples and the afro look etched the story of a jovial wizzle stoning sambo. My glossy bigger than normal eyes hidden behind glasses portrayed a radiant face, full of smiles making me look like I can never be bored. Some thought it was a sign of valiance. Especially when I would decide to leave my hair uncombed, with red jicho nyanya eyes that looked like I was high on substance when I was not in my lenses.

Shaving bald is like tonsure. Especially for a person who has normally been having an afro look. After having worked for a multinational for a year, I was now jobless, penniless and lastly broken-hearted. Even though I had seen it coming, when it became a reality, it did hit hard. My lips became pale and cracked, my eyes were no longer as liquid as they should. And my mouth was so dry and throat almost became sour, I tasted something metallic that was left in it with an acidic trace. In a million years, that day I felt hungry, which I normally don’t. I wanted to eat a lot. To compensate for those days, I had denied my body rations all in the name of working.

I felt liberated, free from asked what I had achieved for the day, free from being in a job where I am again looking for work to be able to earn, free from the tribulations of a paycheck that is exhausted before you even think of going for a drink or kurudishia mwili shukrani. I felt happy in a way, I wanted to tell the world that I am jobless and free from being pressurized to produce figures in terms of sales. If it was never meant to be, I shall never force what was not meant to be. Now am bold, less reticent and practically ready to display my domineering machismo because of this bald head.

Conventionally, I was to be given a termination letter, an indication that I have been sacked. Aren’t those sacked given letters? I don’t think that the damn thing is even necessary. Somehow, me going bald was a gesture that I was now starting out something new. For once, I decided to change my barber because of my changing fortunes. I went to the one who charges half the amount I normally pay for a regular shave. Given that going bald does not require any special skills, I went for a discounted shave.

I once saw a guy going ‘Jordan’ and I thought it was a very tasking job for a barber given that he took longer than usual to be shaven so much so that the roots on his head were never visible. His head became smooth and shiny. I abhorred that state.

When the barber had that I was going bald, the first statement he made was, ‘So you want a totally new look.” Since am not good at talking to strangers, I nodded my head and let him do his thing. “Hata ndevu pia.” I still nodded in affirmation. I don’t want to delve on the finer details of the interior of the kibanda barbershop but it was pathetic. Yet that is what I could afford. With no phone, empty wallet, a bleeding bank account and what else, no possibility of having a solid income because I never worked hard the weeks to exam, I just had to go for this shave.

Well, being shaved in such a place made me think how fortunate sometimes we are when we pay extra for our usual barbers. The shaver foil was not as friendly as it should. Ideally, it should massage the head, make you feel like you are having a good time. It should be another massage session even though I have never wanted to go for a massage because of its risqué. I am human and when you touch some pleasure points if a lady doing the massage, you sure can provoke my whizzle and that means parting with more bucks na vile uchumi ni mbaya.

The shave was a nasty one, I kept on imagining how ‘savers’ like me have to go through this moments all in the name of having to spend less, yet what we do with money when we are not in cozy places may be quite prodigal. Those who steal from us do it so swiftly in broad day light and some in subtle muzzles you find yourself giving even though you never had the intent of doing so.

Flashback, when I finished my exams, I was feeling like getting a little bit high. I remembered that in downtown, there is a certain joint where you can get high at a fraction of what you spend in those ritzy clubs. Mind you, I was solo. All my pals had been thrust by an exam we had hopes may sometime change our lives in future. There was one who came out of it feeling dejected and almost passing out given the uneasy look on his visage. He could not even eat and decided to head for the digs because he was feeling overwhelmed.

Given that I had been refunded some money by a friend the previous day, I felt like going and downing some ale as I waited for UCL to be aired. I went to my usual joint for booze where I sat next to the gents oblivious of the fact that I was placing myself in a compromising situation. Feeling like I was inhaling the stench, I asked the waiter to relocate my drink and though I went to a smoke-filled room, it was better as I was seated next to the window and the smokers were doing so once in a while.

Watching the game was fan, when your team is thrashing the other, you feel like you should have placed a bet. Buda ungewekelea. Those were the thoughts that were running through my head. Then some demon from nowhere decided to entice me with the possibility of going to a strip club. Well, the club was just few metres away.

The first time I went to a strip club, while still a first-year student, I did not see the action that goes on because I am shortsighted and we had to get out before things started getting nasty because our drinks had gone empty. And those bouncers and bartenders notice that quickly as if they are paid on commissions on who spots empty bottled revelers so that they can order you out or you buy more. I don’t remember the feeling but it was such an experience that never stuck.

Then I forgot about these clubs for a while. I must admit that sometimes the urge to explore leads me to proscribed places with the idea of finding out what happens behind those closed doors. I never thought I would ever go back to a cabaret but blogging lead me there. In fact, it was a former high school friend who told me to haller at him once he is paid so that we would go for a drink.

Pretending to be the uptown guy, I decided to go to a ritzy joint as I waited for him. I ordered for my favourite brand and noticed two ladies with a Johnnie Walker black label mzinga sipping it like nothing ever mattered. I was with a workmate. I also ordered for him given that he was the ever-broke guy. He however was a mummy’s boy and quickly left before eleven in the night. But not after my friend had bought him some two made of black.

Even though it was payday, my friend became uneasy and said we club hop. Guess the place was not that conducive for his pockets or for getting jiggy. So, he said we go somewhere in along Keekorok Road where action never stops.  

I should have known that he was taking me there, I would have rescinded the request right away. But when you are a little high, you become indecisive and unwary. You follow like a dog, and behave like a politician’s sycophant because the bills will be paid. Entry fee to the ripper did set me aback but I had to because I was not after disappointing my friend. He appeared well known there and he was from taking drugs the previous week a reason why he was not taking so much ale.

We ordered for a Gilbeys mzinga, and some soda. I don’t remember drinking because the showgirls were all over our table having been friends with my friend who was a celeb here. They were like, “Me huwa sipendi makali” but the drink was reducing faster than a kettle of tea served to village labourers. He even knew those who were not working that day and caressed them with abandon. I was the shy type, it being my first day. In total, I ended up taking a loan for two mzingas watched both a blue movie being played in the background and the lady gagas doing their pole thing. Before we left, I was given a grind but the thing was so hasty I regretted why I went for it.

Then another time, I took my cousins who were pressing me that they wanted to find out the other side of Nairobi. Well, they witnessed it. The worst part is that their drinks got sprayed by the cum from a randy stripper who I think got so much on heat she was peeing like a dude. Spraying her thing to the nearest tables. I vowed never to return to the club again. Until the other day when some gremlins took me to the joint and I found myself asking one of the bartenders to get me a sassy diva for a grind, just to get the thoughts of having been given a rough thrust out of my head by an exam that has not changed my status so much.

Ideally, the babe tried so much by hook and cranny to make me want to go for something extra with her which she was peddling at 2K. Kwani inakuja na nini special ndio utoe hio pesa yote and the experience has an expiry date. However, when I am drunk, I never easily stand a lady, plus she told me that she had done it with other men. I hate sharing. So, the lap dance was enough. When she was through, I left for the digs at around 12. That is the point where I discovered that I had lost my phone while still having other valuables, I tried running back to go find out if I could recover my phone but on farther scrutiny of my pockets, I realized that all the cash I had had somehow flow away. I was only left with my fare for using to go back home and that is why I am never going to have a love hate relationship with that River road stretch.

I have vowed never to find myself on those streets again whether in the daytime or at night. If at any point I need a drink, I will use the money I should drink it a better pub. Never mind that I had intentioned to save cash to be able to have enough to start a solitary life. Now, I must go back to the drawing board, but as I have gone through tonsure, I am confident that these bizarre behaviours will now be a thing of the past.

Hasta La Vista Baby.

[Photo Source: Pixabay.com]

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WHAT'S NEXT?

Thinking can be a very poky process. You seem to have got it right then when you execute the idea, it turns pukey. Then you wonder what the problem really is. Many times, you find yourself in those situations where you really have to think hard. Then amid all the web of jinx, you find you have no idea at all of what you want to do. Your plans are in shambles and you have no financial clout to execute the irradiant thoughts you hand in your mind. When you get into such a situation, you become lackadaisical.

Sometimes life usually hits a dead end. There is no much progress you are making and the little that you think you had is nothing to be proud of. It’s situations like this that make you ask yourself candidly, ‘What am I in for?’ Well, there is so much that we want to achieve. You may be in a catch 22 situation like I am currently in. Nothing seems to be working out right.

There is usually one big problem that normally arises when one finds himself in tricky situations. For example, you are employed, you work because you are supposed to. Nothing is enviable there. It reaches that point where you become like a carousel. Doing things because you are programmed to do so. There is virtually nothing to motivate or take you to the next level. Progress seems impossible, and the mind is kind of lethargic. You want to make headwinds. The more you try, the less you feel like you will ever make it.

I finally sat for my exams. If I can remember the hours that I did put into study, the fact that the exam sidestepped me for once and the possibility of a masters (repeating), I feel obliged to write about it here. Yet I am short of the right words to drive the point home. As such, it does not hurt to digress. 

I also lost my phone after finishing my exams. I remember running like a mad person on the streets hoping that I will finally trace the person who stole; nothing much. A trace of the last place where I was online indicates it was next to the exam room. I wish I had an iPhone. It has one of a kind security that local cryptographers cannot crack. You lose it and you are sure it is never going to work again. The circumstances under which my phone got lost is an experience that has served to broaden my perspective about the Samsung phones that I have owned. Are they cursed, and they normally get lost in downtown Nairobi. Yet, I still love the brand when it comes to a mid-range phone. Probably, I will get another before the end of the year, but in the meantime, I shall remain phone-less to be able to remove myself from the world that I have to be in amid it being networked by mobile phones. I want to feel the pinch of not having a phone.

Back to exams, I cannot say I was fully prepared to do the exams. It was a fifty-fifty thingy (I loved the way a certain home-schooled nine year old used this word 'thingy' and also got hooked to it). You know you have the exams at hand, time has flown so fast that it has been difficult to put your act together, but still you sit for it. Perhaps I should have studied just a little bit longer and harder. Perhaps I should not have strained commingling between two jobs, and study. Perhaps I should have not been so much motivated by money. Perhaps! Perhaps! Perhaps! Perhaps! Perhaps!

When I look back, I tell myself, the situations you put yourself into were more than you could handle. They made you lose out. You lost weight, lost meaning of why you are working, lost friends, lost it in terms of happiness and now you have lost your phone. The most prized possession after the laptop that you own. It was a sign that you can work, make money and start buying new things.

I am officially back to job hunting. I read a very interesting article written by someone about graduates. It was a scathing attack that belittled education, a personal opine that illustrates the situation of a plebeian graduate. You graduate and enroll into the system of search for work. You spend years looking for work and when you find it, you spend the rest of the time being enslaved to the job, by the time you know it, you are in midlife crisis. You have a nagging wife, a family to take care of, a small car to fuel to show that you are somehow doing well, a loan the bank does not give you space when you are not servicing it because they will CRB list you and a tattered perspective about what you want to be other than reporting to an eight to five job, waiting for someone to determine your destiny at the expense of shaping it.

There is a certain colleague who loved phrases like ‘see you at the top’, ‘Flourish! Flourish! Flourish!’, ‘Blossom! Blossom! Blossom!’ and many others that when you meet him, you start uttering them even before he does. I asked one of the friends of my sister who works with the guy closely and she was unrelenting in her description of their professional status back at work so much so that they were not in talking terms. I was left flabbergasted for lack of a better word to use because the guy is really a celebrity back at the office where I used to work. He does not fear speaking out his mind and will encourage you with a bible verse here and there spoken in fluent Swahili.

It’s amazing that a prophet is never accepted in his hometown. That is why sometimes he finds it easy to preach for those far and wide because Kenyans love the gospel but not practicing it. They get motivated by his word and even give offertory when he is allowed to preach whenever he has pitched tent. A certain salesperson who saw him collect over ten thousand after payday of some civil servants narrated how he had wished he could be sliced a percentage of the offer but given that andu a nyumba is so magnetized to mullahs, he had to kula kwa macho.

On my part, I sometimes feel I lost it. I concentrated so much on looking for ways to pass an exam then forgot to focus on my job. Yet I really tried. I am not a multitasking kind of dude. Probably it has resulted in the situation I am currently in where I will have to be a freelancer just to be able to make some few peanuts and also look for ways of getting to the next phase of life. I want to finish my exams, then, if will result in a job in the investment industry, I will be glad, if I fail, then this writing has to go to another level.

While I am pondering on what next, I remember that I have this blog. My only source of solace when I think I have no one to out pour my tribulations. It has been real working with this blog. It has made me go through situations that are well worth writing about. It has taught me to remain strong even in the face of adversity. It has tremendously improved my writing skills. It has made me more of a daredevil and still a cower at the same time. It made me work as a salesperson. It made me visit corners that I would have naturally not gone to. It has gotten me abused for being a good Samaritan. To sum it up, it has been a heuristic platform.

Well, I am now looking for new opportunities. I have not been able to break even in the past few years. I would like to make a new start. I would love to be a free bugger from the jaws of penury. I am now adjusting back to normal life after perusal process.

When you have been preparing for an exam for a colossal amount of time of  the year, and the line manager you are working with only thinks of what the employer will think of you when you have taken some short study leave, you feel obliged to decide whether to go for it or not to. The best decision is that which you engage in and never regret about it


What is however quite a task is the fact that when you leave work, you must program your mind back to having long hours of idleness. You still wake up early as usual. The only presence they will never find is your normalcy in social media. Sharing those forwards, videos and nobody ever realizes that you are phone-less. You wake up instead of going to work, you head to a cyber cafe to finish some tasks online. They give you money. After that,you head to Uhuru Park, there you sit next to a a certain hobo who is reeking of stink with grime filled attire. It attracts flies, but you are looking for a short story. When you get tired, you go to your former office, where because you were in good books with the sentry, courtesy of giving him tips, he willingly allows you in.

In this transition period back to normal life, no serious job and having to find meaning in my objectives, there is only one thing that keeps hope alive. That stories to tell never end. the experiences in life keep on twitching and they provide a good learning ground. All in all, there are books to read to get a new twist and most of all, the desire to have a breakthrough when push comes to shove.

Hasta la vista baby.

[Picture Source: My own]

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