REFLECTIONS

It’s almost a year ever since this blog got rejuvenated in terms of content posting after staying in hibernation untouched for close to two years since its inception. Actually, reminiscing the past, I can well say I have gotten more sluggish and indolent about the whole inkling of making an undeterred scribe. Not anymore. The dreams of going commercial or public are still under the woods or are underground in street parlance due to matters personal to the heart. I now wish I could muster the courage to write a book irrespective of the fact that I am even more than sure I may reach a point where I will be disillusioned and never write whatever I had in mind, because of having lost the motivation or imagination.

If this blog has become a struggle as I currently envisage my candour as a demurred grapnel at the onset of anchorage. This is because I have been sluggish to read any books and writing on a daily basis is now farfetched. Coming from a relatively middle class background, I have somehow developed deep feelings of inferiority and inadequacy. They decapitate my ambition sometimes much to my blogs chagrin because it has good content but no readers.

There is one kid I read about on the dailies but I have forgotten his name who kept his manuscript undisclosed until that point in time when he was published. My blog is still under such wraps until that point I will get a good designer to redo it and acquire a sensible domain name having maximized on effective search engine optimization or advertising on the social media platforms or the dominant search engines.

But hey! While I am not doing great in terms of the force I had started with in terms of writing, I can aptly say that just like whiskey, the more it ages and matures, the better I have become. When I consider the far that I have reached, I am no longer doubtful that it is something deep that drives me to do that which am doing. Money may be a major motivation but it ceases being a compelling force on my part. There is something about brilliance; it can never be replaced no matter what. If you are good, you are. But I also am sure that with hard work, the sky is the limit. Like I only spent say three or four months getting to know about graphic design and alas, while I may not be as creative and imaginative as some of those designs I admire, I can avidly say that the fruits of my labour have been partly achieved. Sometimes taking the initiative to learn on your own is rewarding even though the severity is what most cannot condone because learning something on YouTube or textbook and executing it can be a challenging endeavour.

Sometimes I wish I could have been a master orator, someone who can talk and capture the attention of an audience using banal anecdotes told in a passionate appeal, telling unmatched punch lines and with strong transitions executed smoothly with a vocal delivery that has a message that the audience is convinced of and will take with them. I want to get to that point where I can calmly adjust my delivery depending on how my audience engages with my material while on stage or on any other worthy platform.  There are times when I ponder how I will engage an audience, by getting them to laugh, cheer, gasp, or have any other emotional reaction. Since it usually takes time to get there, I am willing to patiently wait even if it means it will never see me do it while still alive. God forbid though! If it comes when am no longer in existence, then my lingering ghosts will be proud of what I did that is if I may never get to have children.

Oh! I know children make parents want to live to see them grow. I want my children to have a life that will not only be fulfilling but also worth living. Since I cannot deliver and provide that which I want for them, I will still give the marriage business a wide berth. It’s practical. Why should I let the mother and the child suffer because I cannot provide. I am not going to risk having a child. Not sooner. But again, no prospective woman is in mind. The one I had in mind is evasive and that is what I want. It takes me away from the troubles of thinking about someone else. She thinks I am unpredictable yet am as ordinary as the random Joe.

Ideally, women can't believe we men are so unobservant. This is aptly the reason why most people who get involved in accidents are men. Research shows that we are more a product of our biology than the victims of social stereotypes. We are different because our brain is wired differently. This causes us to perceive the world in different ways and have different values and priorities. Which could be the reason why the woman I am pursuing and I usually spend too much thinking about may find some of the very mundane things I intimate to her very fallacious.

'It's obvious that women are smarter than men. Think about it - diamonds are a girl's best friend; man's best friend is a dog. ' Joan Rivers

That was just a by-the-way. Onto more important matters now. How good it feels to know that beyond the shadow of the doubt I have, the information, strategies, philosophies, and skills that I have gained as far could assist any one of these people I envisage to indulge in empowering themselves to make the changes they desire most!

A flood of images and emotions will flow over me when I reach that point in time in life. I will have attained self-actualization, which some think has to do with having financial freedom or amassing vast wealth and assets which I cannot deny I am also in pursuit of, but the most important aspect is leaving an indelible mark in the hearts of people so that they will profess of how you aided them in overcoming one or two hurdles bestowed by mother nature.

Yet most people have no idea of the giant capacity we can immediately command when we focus all of our resources on mastering a single area of our lives. Controlled focus is like a laser beam that can cut through anything that seems to be stopping you. I wish I knew this earlier on in life to sharpen my skills so that they are at that level where they can no longer be flaccid.

When we focus consistently on improvement in any area, we develop unique distinctions on how to make that area better. Each of us has a talent, a gift, our own bit of genius just waiting to be tapped and harnessed to change the way humanity has envisaged itself.

As a matter of fact, I decided that somehow I must contribute in some way that would live on long after I was gone. I'm constantly figuring out how to communicate this knowledge with people in ways that truly empower them to improve their mental, emotional, physical, and financial destinies.

And I will succeed because I have understood the power of a truly committed decision that when acted upon, no matter what the conditions, on a continuous basis will eventually bring back the intended results.

Deciding to commit myself to long-term results, rather than short-term fixes, is as important as any decision I have made in my lifetime. Failing to do this can cause not only result in massive financial or societal pain, but sometimes even the ultimate personal pain. In that regard, I raised my standards, backed them up with new beliefs, and implemented the strategies I know I must. You may have heard of the Six "P" Formula. It says, "Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance."

This post cannot be complete without the mention that I have many posts that are hanging and need to be acted upon like yesterday. They somehow make me feel bad because I usually never plan prior to doing that which I am supposed to be doing. I am so full of procrastination. More than ten posts are still hanging which was not the intention of this blog.

When I started, I was very pessimistic about life and all that has to do with making in general. But as I progress, I am fully aware that courage and confidence will reinvent the person in me to achieve unmatched potential in life if well moderated so that it never reeks of arrogance. However, I am poignant that I will get there. I am not going to be chasing after nothing in particular with matters concerning life. Neither will I be betrothed to societal folly of peers herd mentality.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY.

[Picture Source: My Own]

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PARKLANDS

The number of Range Rover Evoque on this streets are far astounding. Mark you they are all brand new. Complemented by other Bavarian SUVs, and sports cars, you reaaly know you are not somehow in Kenya. These radically different types of machines owned mostly by Indians make you feel like there is something you are not doing right. Either you are hustling on the wrong job, or you are tied down to a form of employment which means you can never own such a machine because its fuel consumption on a monthly basis if driven daily is two to three times the net you take home. To make matters worse, it is usually Indian ladies or youthful dudes who are usually behind the wheels. The envy is real, add jealousy that they can make it in our country while we are busy working for them speaks volume. Let me check on the two because it may result into resentment. And apparently resentment gnaws away at us and can be a springboard to anger, hatred and even depression.

Albeit the machine (Range Rover Evoque) has never wowed me in terms of aesthetic values, it has uniquely designed sleek features and lightweight capability not forgetting that it is highly streamlined which makes it perfect for urban driving and a real beast on the road. Well, the guzzler is a trendy fit and breaks the monotony of Japanese littered roads that are synonymous with us Kenyans. Some say a machine whether cozy or not is for taking you from point A to B. Well they are idiosyncratic in my school of thought. But your arrival in such a contraption speaks boisterously of who you are regardless of whether you have hired it or own it to the mundane plebeian. If it evokes such desirability and oomph on yours truly, then you can be pretty sure that it has unmatched rivalry on our roads. As a breather, let me say that the Range Rover Evoque combines head-turning looks with awesome attributes, thanks to its blend of style, performance, economy and off-road ability. I had to emphasize the words in bold. Period.

Imbroglio. There is this man who KTN saw it best to say that he was hurling massive English (ENGLUO) and I was pretty much fascinated by his use of ubiquitous words which may well be vocabulary to some. Hitherto it had not occurred to me that he was that well versed until in his heavy jeng accent, he talked about some audit stuff being in imbroglio. However, his pronunciation was way out of how it should be said if in any way his insinuation was tied to this prodigious word that I knew but had to check with my lexicon on its intended literal connotation.

That is the state I was in on Monday when I was to take a car to Highridge where my new workstation is situated. Boy, it is ridiculous to even think of intimating the story. Like a rookie, I went to board vehicles headed to Parklands, totally different from those that are supposed to take you to Highridge. Thankfully, I made it to town early enough to mess up a little bit because in Swahili they say, “Kupotea njia, ndiyo kujua njia.” At this point there is so much temptation to switch to Swahili, however, that will be tantamount to calamitous because, ideally, there are words in Swahili so difficult to translate from English never forgetting that the flow of the prose will be subject to a lot of hesitation and Googling to find the right phrase using Google translator. And apparently, there are so many words in English that need a native Swahili name. Like I was once listening to a conversation and Lady Jay Dee was told to translate the word ‘tennis’ to Swahili. She said ‘tenisi’ ambivalently thinking there is a better word having done what is known as ‘kutohoa’ in Swahili. I was good in Swahili way back in high school. Now the remnants are still lurking somewhere though the real knowledge has gone to the dogs. I recall with nostalgia the makosa ya hijahi and ngeli. If the two still exist.

Ok, back to the main point. There are some conductors whose main motivation is usually the money and not the interest of the passenger they are to aid. As a person, you need to have some little bit of sense in you so as to be kosher. When you peg things on money at the expense of helping a friend in need, you might even loose the slightest opportunity of growth you would have been bestowed because it is better the hand that giveth than the hand than receiveth.

As a person who never knew where I was going to, I did ask him if he was going to show me the place I was heading to so that I could alight if indeed that was the route I was supposed to use. Unfortunately, he showed me the wrong place having entered his car. So upon alighting I had to ask the sentries the focal point of where I was to report to work. But at first, I went to a building that looked almost the same like the one that I was supposed to be reporting to having seen the images on Google. And speaking of Google, I was never even bothered to know where the place I was going to was situated, never mind that I had free internet in the house and a whole weekend to check on the google maps and ensure I got the exact destination on my fingertips.

Which reminds me, I remember getting lost on my way to search for Oshwal last year (Let’s just say, am not cognizant of this suburbs). That I have ended up in Strathmore is a story that has a close relation with Oshwal. My destination was supposed to be Highridge and the mat left me at a point where I was as green as the brown “Kidero” grass. Last year, it took me more than an hour to trace Oshwal College. Luckily, with the help of some very cordial sentries, I did find the institution which did not ooze the kind of flamboyance in terms of façade as I had thought and expected. It was too plain and it never seeking attention made the probable look kind of too much jejune. But what made me want to go to the institution was the beautiful girls who spoke splendid English using their noses and their light skin complexion. I love seeing beautiful girls. Beauty makes life worth living. Otherwise, if there was no beauty, what else would we be look for in life? Maybe we would have been reluctant to even work hard for better our prospects in life.

Away from last year reminisces. The sentry at Oshwal Primary was the most helpful. His accent sounded like that of a ‘murume’ and I did wonder how he ended up in such a pitiable situation because I rarely see people of this ethnicity plying their trade as watchmen. Had rather they sell Mogoka or Mira in the filthy streets of downtown Nairobi. He did give me the right direction of how I had to walk.

On reaching the point where I was to board a mat for Nakumatt Highridge Supermarket, the Thomas in me decided to hesitate in order to ask someone who maybe had the knowledge of where I was headed to. At that point, I felt like taking a ‘nduthi’ so that I could arrive at the job in time. But something told me not to be in a hurry. I asked someone who looked like he had the geographical coordinates of the area at the palm of his hand. However, he was the kind who take so many things for granted and was even more confused than I was. I thought the place I was headed to was still far because I was next to the administration offices (Later I knew it was Mwisho, Kwa Chief)

At that point, I decided to go ask a certain conductor to take me to my intended destination. Luckily, she was helpful. Ever realized that the number of ladies plying their trade as mat and bus conductors is biased towards Saps. The amount I was to be charged was a paltry Ksh. 10. I realized that sometimes, patience pays. If you hurry you might end up eating the entrails instead of the lean and tender parts of meat. Like I would have probably paid Ksh. 100 for a motorbike ride instead of saving Ksh.90.

The week also saw me search for a passport which I had started looking for the previous week. You see, I did not have a birth certificate which is a prerequisite for having passport. Luckily, I had the copy of my birth certificate. Again being broke and not intending to borrow money because am working, Mshwari came in handy. They are currently lending me a 5 digit figure which is not bad considering I am sometimes in a fix and need to use the service to solve one or three problems.

My old man being in town, he did aid robustly in the quest for a passport. As the first person in my nuclear family to own one, he was really proud. Never mind that it is only for exam registration which I found out later even though I had vague memories that I needed a passport.

In order to get the birth certificate faster, we called one of my aunts who works with the immigration department. There is always a queue of people looking for passports. I usually bypassed them because I knew people. In Kenya, if you act courageous and confident in what you are doing, not even the marauding and haughty Administration Police can bar you from making entry in the busy department while others are queuing.

My birth certificate was prepared in less than two hours on a Friday evening. But because I couldn’t be able to pick it, it was agreed that the person making it would deliver it to one Ben who worked at the immigration and was to be my acquaintance in the search for a passport at Nyayo. All this while, I was thinking of how I was wasting time not being in the job place. I was AWOL.

The person who was supposed to be receiving the certificate got too drunk to report to work on Monday. Civil servants sometimes do have a rosy time at the workforce, right? For the birth certificate, I forked out Sh. 1500. The other charges for the person preparing the passport at Nyayo house were settled by my old man because he is still more chummed than me.

To make matters worse, the invoice I had printed was not the one required. However, because I was being served by a person who knew there was kitu kidogo, he did not mind printing the required invoice which I found very relieving because if I had used the right mechanism instead of going backdoor, I would have probably spent ages looking for the passport owing to the shortfall that I was having.

So it took me like thirty minutes to have all the documentation certified factoring in the time spent for waiting for the officer who was to check the documents. Now I am only waiting for a foreign country to let me let me travel to it because am well armed.

Oh, and our graphic designer got fired. Just like that because of some nonsensical reason. We used to laugh together, and narrate stories but one story I intimated about a deaf prostitute made her laugh to tears. Sadly I was added some roles which I was not feeling like taking, of graphic design. I am still pondering on how to make graphics that stand out even though I am not highly skilled in this field (self taught). There is a lot of nitty gritty in designing. Color combination, using the right font, alignment of objects, and knowledge of how to use all the tools and coming up with an image that will capture the attention of the person you picture is intended is not an easy job. You really need to think in 3D using 4G now that our boss said that consulting is like eating into the time of another employee and he needs the results faster.

As our human resource continues to look for an employee who will fit the bill, I am still going to act on the role in the meantime though my work has really been compromized. Luckily, I have honed my designing skills and I can well say I am doing just fine.

Yes, I discovered a new eating spot in Highridge. It is made of iron sheets but much smaller than the Mama Mswahili’s place. Since it is the only place serving us. It sometimes get so full we have to wait outside in order to let those who are in to finish so that we can partake of our chow. The meal is not as delicious as Mama Mswahili’s. But it is a little bit cheaper. For some reason, I may not have the money to eat there daily but sooner, things will look up and I will move to something better because there are some Swahili dishes being made by a certain lady and even though it is actually the figure I spend on a day, I will be tempted to eat it.

However there is one incident that made me love our mat drivers. There was this traffic cop who wanted him to halt by the curb for some nonsensical reason.  But the bugger was quite sly because he did pretend to be stopping but accelerated entering into the nearby T-junction as we sped off. We kept on looking at the back but the guy knew panya routes and left us at a place you walk five minutes to work. Ideally, I usually take a minute for the distance.

Oh, and I am going to sometimes be boarding the Strathmore bus to school in order to save on fare. Who knows, I might just get a big break when the year blossoms. When I sometimes see my classmates in 4*4 and am doing route eleven to catch a mat, I feel that I am more challenged than ever before to try and be in the right class. I will ask for the tricks of getting there. But in the meantime, I will accept the status quo even though there is this chic who told me she find old moneyed men who reside in suburbs and drive fuel guzzlers with several businesses as the equal of who to marry her. It made my heart sink in destitution and I am on a legit mission to make real big money that my woman cannot spend. If I am not going to make it in the meantime, I will look for one lady who wants to grow with me steadily. Money is more attracted to people as they age. Ama sivyo?

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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GOOD BYE MOMBASA ROAD

If asked whether I would return to Mombasa Road as a place of work, I will be kind of cynical and jittery. But not much owing to Standard Group being found along this road. What with the major motor companies also having pitched tent on this gateway to the coastal city of Mombasa Raha (Ain't implying that which was an afterhours program on K-24 by Gertrude Mungai) among the many second rate and third rate banks that have set shop owing to a large number of residents now that the place is the frontier that probably excites the habitation sentiments of some of the growing Nairobi middle-class that reside along this road and who use it most of the time to and fro work.

Let’s just say the place was not as story minded as the places I have been to having failed to elicit chutzpah as initially thought of. Or in other words, it failed to trigger the scribe in me to take cognizance of the little things that please the mind; nonetheless I will try to jog my memory about the few things that did capture my eyes. They were sundry but I will narrow down to the most outspoken even though they may sound so mundane you would wonder why someone should write about them. As an observer, it does not blind the eyes to look at the parochial picture neither does it break a bone to tell it as it is. Even though my literary skills are now being vamoosed as a result of contentment and agreeably living it to go to the dogs. What with sleep having taken over me, and the ideals of wanting to redefine my writing having been attenuated.

As a Lang’ata road user (Let’s just say my days are numbered on this road, maybe not, who knows?), I usually have to alight at Nyayo. That is the point where you can be stressed if you are not going to surmount the challenge of climbing stairs that have been imposed to us mat users because we are not well endowed financially as a result of working for a body corporate that maybe won’t let us see the inside of an own personal car in the event we don’t pull our socks up and see to it that the business is selling. As a continuing post-grad student, it behooves of me to act rational and add one plus one that at the end of the day, in the event that sales revenue skyrocket, then surely, there will be no doubt as to whether or not I will be having my own nyamburko. There is a reason as to why I need to be steering that wheel. I usually see young pretty nubile behind fuel-guzzling SUVs and even though I may be tempted to say it is a sponsor they are gold digging, the reality is that they are life smarts and are doing just right for now. 

On the other hand I am boxed in a situation whereby contemplating to leave my employer will leave me in quagmire (Don’t many of us think so?). We are a growing company. Owing to that as pioneer employees, we set the agenda and work plan to make things work. So if things are rosy, I might start with a Tsusho as I look for a way to go Bavarian (which I am sure is sooner). If not, I may as well look for greener pastures (which I am not good at) or keep praying and working hard hoping that things will yield after the hard work. If not, the status quo will prevail and mark you, I will remain a mat user which will well give me lackadaisical stories to pencil push about. I need to mingle with guys who roll like yesterday. Those who throw jibes at you when you own a Samsung when they do iOS. And they are not ashamed to ask why people own a Samsung phone (and there tone is both sarcastic and paradoxical).

Hold those thoughts. A brief interlude. What makes a company tick? Is it the way it treats its employees? Does karma comes back to haunt it in the event it has a high attrition rate of employees?

Since I am not well versed with such matters, I will be on a learning mode. Trying to inject in something new and avoiding the old tenet called experience which is good but may as well be disastrous. Juxtaposing the two together can be a rich experience in either way. 

Back to basics. Mombasa road. Let me indulge you about the two stages I was alighting and boarding a mat to work. In the morning, Nyayo was the place I did board a mat. General Motors is the point I did alight. The reverse was true in the evening. GM was busier of the two stages in the morning. However, again, just like Nyayo, the fly-over which is actually supposed to be called a footbridge was even more vexing than the one in Nyayo in the morning. On the contrary, in the evening, the Nyayo fly-over becomes a beehive of activities. With most young men selling pullovers, toys and jeans, and khaki and canvas trousers and the many men and women who sell other products on your way to boarding a mat to jav back home to increase their daily eke.

This brings me to the point of craving. What is it with roasted maize in the evening? They are aromatic from afar. Just the sight of the maize (for the advanced its corn) makes you want to order for one. A cob retails for say sh.40. How times change. What I used to get for Sh.10 has skyrocketed by 400% ten years down the line. And Nyayo also has these snacks like samosas and eggs and smokies that will indulge you to make a stopover for a bite like most ladies do. Apparently, men don’t love these biting. If you see most ladies bulging by the day, it apparently has a semblance to the many cheap foods you can buy on the roadside.

I have never been to Panari. Why lie. The building has a well appointed façade and with it beigesh color (men are color blind though) and even though it stands erect next to the road, the aesthetic values have somehow been robbed because there is no succulent vegetation that is synonymous with opulence. It being juxtaposed to the desertish aura makes its serene not that inviting. However I am not a connoisseur when it comes to location and hotels, but I bet this also qualifies for a motel if my English has not gone to the dogs. Likewise the Ekas and Serenis of this road. I wish they could have been tacked just a little bit inside. Albeit all these inadequacies, they are landmarks that are worth penning home about.

Unaffordable to the plebian like yours truly as these places of luxury may be, one thing is for sure. I really need to pull my socks and voila, things may turn up.

KPA slums is also another facet that made me go fascinated about how people can be really ingenious and sought the appetence of the proletariat who want some chow for less. If you can buy chicken with ugali for 150, what more do you need. The many mabati food joints that serve people near the port terminus in the city just tells of how the civility of the nation is proclaimed. Obviously, there is that person who profits from the structures erected on the land because that is how Nairobi has metamorphosed.

Ooooh! I had even forgotten to intimate about the GM stage on your way back. Frequent users will attest to the fact that there is certain dude (tout) who is usually high on some drugs and he dresses in fitting clothes. The hallucinations and delusions of perpetual drug use have made him mobile so much so that he is always in motion running like a hyena if you have seen one in the orphanage. The guy is also slim. Maybe 5”5 tall and he looks muscled even though his body mass may not be more that 60 Kg. The corner of his mouth usually either has saliva or the drugs that he is using and his eyes are usually bloodshot red. He makes his living by ensuring mats heading to either Nyayo or town are boarded by passengers. His distinctive wear was a pipe jeans trouser, black boots and a t-shirt that made some ladies brand him gay because he ran like one. Misconceived perceptions I may say because I saw his was an expression.

And there was this lady riding a nduthi (motorbike). She is easily identifiable from afar because she parks her bike segregated from other bodaboda riders. And most people like her because of the fact that she is the type that kizuri chajiza kibaya chajitembeza. You never see her call her clients, and most of the time, she will find one which means it’s rare to find her idle waiting for someone to take to point B. My friend and immediate boss Poloji told me she was once interviewed with one of the local stations about the hustle now that she is the only lady plying her trade on this route. Poloji even had the guts to use her motorbike. Ideally, if it were not for being late, I prefer walking as opposed to riding on a bike. It makes me jittery. The presence of tracks on the road and a sharp bend kind of made me ensure I woke up early enough to make it to work.

From the road to the place of work, it was roughly a twenty minutes walk. The only downside of walking was that you ended up having dusty shoes and trousers. That is the reason why most people used motorbikes so as to arrive with neatly polished shoes in the office. The thought of saving that dime also meant I had to trek.

I loved Mombasa road for one thing, there was usually a way of evading jam by the quick-witted drivers who had knowledge on the various routes. There is the southern bypass that offers a better get away from the bulging traffic on your way to Bellevue. Popo Road also offers an avenue of escaping the jam on Mombasa road and skilled drivers will take less minutes and you find yourself in Nyayo. As compared to Lang’ata, Mombasa Road is highly networked and especially en-route South B, which is also bigger that Lang’ata in population size. For that matter, I may be tempted to also say that Indimanje and Embassava Sacco drivers are more capricious with routes and well versed with alternatives in the event one section proves to be stalling in motion.

I loved the 14-seater matatus because they were less prone to marauding conmen and did fill faster than the 33-seater matatus which are not only stuffy and kind of crowded because some conductors even let passengers stand inside but also there are chances you may forget to alight on the right stage because of the idea that you are a passenger.

All in all, Mombasa road was a nice experience. The two months were worth it. I loved CrowDaddy. Again, I will have to plan to make an entry there. The best thing was that the fare on this route was not outrageous. Vehicles did flow smoothly and in less than ten minutes or so you were at the place of alighting if the mat did not make unnecessary stopovers along the road.

The business is now over and the much there is is to wait and find out how Chandarana will welcome me. I am headed to Parklands, the home of the Indian hegemony. A place far much cooler and full of opulence. Maybe, things will transpire well and I might just smile widely sooner. You never know.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY.

 [Picture Source]

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MY DAY IN BARINGO.

Nairobi was out of the picture. At least you get to move out of the snooty, rigorous and fast paced environment that is the city. Lets just say, I wasbreak the monotonynotocity life ting away from theusedent combination of the conscious city that aims at getprimordialmage in the world map as a destination of choice and retain n nn a fair a world class city. Neither of the two are becoming a reality soon because the city is ravaged by the threat of poverty on one hand and the incessant threats of Al-shababs who make it a place so dangerous yet in reality, it is one of the most guarded places in the region. Paradoxical as it may sound, the reality is that sometimes you need that break away to refresh and just get a new perspective.

Nice, a Toyota Wish it was. Family members and a driver. Vroooom! The car having been hired, I thought why not? This is gonna be something exciting. To break the monotony of city life. A life we are so used to that we forget other worthy places that still are primordial exist. Places where though not as developed, still retain the edifice.

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THREE YEARS

Amid the pretentious laughter, she still oozes the flair of confidence amidst but you can read resentment in her voice. She has become the single chattiest person you share so much with all in the name of one day subduing your carnal desires and strike it just right although this looks like a Cavoli riscaldati. However she remains insolent. Yet this is the 21^st century. Who does that? Just her for reasons she knows best.

Of recent, I have been a very indolent person ever since the opposite gender charm entered into my system. What with the verve subduing my initial pursuits. The problem is, as a person, I sometimes take too long to accept that I am weak. My ego is just too robust to let go. Chances are, I might end up falling in love or just letting this be a thing that becomes part of life by letting it go. Luckily, the person this piece is directed to may never set eyes on it and this gives me enough reason to deeply introspect whether I derive satisfaction or is it that it is that I am just gullible and can't reign on my emotional cogency.

Let's not call it falling in love but, to soften the stance because falling in love is too big a phrase it requires a lot of dedication and magnanimity since it is not easy to just fall in love just like that as connotatively there is a deeper cognition of what love is. It is usually lust that makes us have this euphoric feeling that makes us to sometimes think in one dimension instead of critically dissecting that which we need to be extra careful about. 

Maybe. Who knows? I might one day get my groove on and fall in love and live happily ever after with the lucky chic. When the lucky me gets a chic who will endure and tolerate the fact that I am human and can fall sometimes but will strive to be as true as possible owing to the fact that the world has become too mysterious and unpredictable as you are in danger if you never take proper care, the two of you may just end up being stirred up by love once again. Such sentiments as being the person who when she will not be around, your world would fall apart, or we are a pair because they say two becomes one, she gives me goose bumps and you name it. My happiness is hers and I would never imagine life without her.

There are those times you feel your heart is heavy and burdened just thinking about her. You feel like you want to be a pugilist to evaporate the down moments away or meet an acupuncture doctor to needle the burden away. She makes your loose your mind when she does crazy stuff just to make you feel bad. But she is far away yet so near. She is the kind of person who you never want to meet but just talk to over the phone because that is what you should be doing. Never mind that talking on the phone occupies a majority of your time you forget about blogging. Blogging is the reason why I am writing this escapade.

However, no two people are the same. There are those people who have like six or eight girls they have to choose from. And apparently, most of them wait hoping that lady luck will smile on them and they will walk down the line with the beau only to be disappointed the last minute because the bugger can only marry one woman and he does just that in the long run. Having sampled to his fulfilment. Methinks ladies love emerging from among the rest as the last man standing. It makes them be the envy of others.

Unlike those other guys, yours truly was not born with the gift of the gab of luring or enticing the opposite sex by sweet-talking them to fall for me and being that smooth operator who knows how to make hay while the sun shines. In fact, I am that guy who will either marry when I don't want or never marry totally because I am not sure of what I want, passe.  Even if I was, I know that I can never reach that point where I am entertaining more than one. Automatically it will backfire. Déjà vu. One man for one woman and that is what I stick to. Three is a crowd. And that means no intimacy. Maybe let’s just say if things go smoothly, this chic that I have been trying to give my all but she doesn’t appreciate because she has to play hard to get will one day find me in the unluckiest of places where she never thought I would be.

The tension that exists between us is something that goes way back, in as much as we seemed to be hiding it, it was obvious to some. It’s simmering waiting to erupt like a volcano. The tectonic plates will give in one day and an earthquake never seen before will be witnessed. While I may tarry this feeling, the severity of it is that it gains more every time like a rolling snowball. It is not like a rolling stone that gathers no moss. 

But there is something about women that we men rarely understand. While it's easy to please a man. The opposite is actually true of a woman. Pleasing her is not that easy. Sometimes you may call relentlessly for long before she picks up. You wonder whether she is no longer interested or just playing hard to get to find out whether you are serious or not. A woman can surely hold a man at ransom. She has the powers to do to you anything knowing very well she can manipulate you with what you have to work hard in order to get. When you are not working, she feels like she is not getting her true worth in you and may inadvertently make spurious choices and decisions that may leave you flabbergasted. It is easy to find a girl these days if chummed but for folks like us who are still emerging, we have to take time hoping that we are not only going to settle for anybody, but that who the heart longs for and has the material of being a wife.

However, it is ladies who sometimes keep us on our toes, they know that loop-hole in men they can machinate. They pressure us to aim for the stars even if we are not. For example, there was a lady who said she can never date a man who looks like he has no focus in life or shows no signs of making it in life. Obviously, she was having a person like me in mind subtly. It was a statement kind of directed to me even though I had never shown interest in her owing to her being beautiful and having that killer smile but so much vexation lingering. We did argue but concluded that that lady who sticks to you during those times when life knocks you down usually ends up a big beneficiary as her mates continue to look for suitable partners money factor notwithstanding. 

When money is the reason why a woman loves you, then that would not hold water when things go south (However, there is no single woman who can love you without money). What if the castle comes crumbling down and you are under receivership suffering from liquidity formlessness? Will it mean that the relationship will cease existing? However, in our current materialistic world, it is very complex and complicated to demarcate the reality of whether there is true love or it is the money factor that keeps the embers of the amber hue of the flame dancing fiery, twinkling like stars in the hot swirling air before cascading to earth that may be extinguished by unknown forces.

Judging by the way this thing may whirlpool, it may take up to three years before the ground has been firmly set. There is no hurry in letting it rapture, the time when it will dawn, the cinders will have cooled giving an aura of choking clouds of noxious smoke, that fill the eyes, showering out everything making you to want to cry but you can’t. Which means that I should be ending this with a very delirious ode from one Andrea Dietrich titled, “Cinder Girl”. Here are the words.

An ember sparked will softly glow,

and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.

I once was cinder, sparked by you,

first timid. . . till the flames then grew.

And so our start was touch of dawn,

with amber hue, for I was drawn

to eyes so welcoming and warm

I never guessed you’d do me harm.

Like morning glory, love in June

the rapture of mid-afternoon,

romance of which the ancients wrote,

our passion had no antidote.

And with the dusk, though scarlet tinged,

our love began to come unhinged,

for clouds arrived, which filled your eyes,

extinguishing bright twilight skies.

With cold of night came shadows’ pall,

and I could not tear down your wall.

By midnight’s hour, the fire was dead.

Mere ashes smoldered in its stead.

You left, and should you reappear,

I’ve vowed to shun you.  Now I fear

the very thing for which I yearn -

one touch. . . and then again - to burn.

And on that note allow me to sign off with my signature phrase from "La Furia Roja" 

HASTA LA VISTA BABY.

[Photo Source: My Own]

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DILEMMA

I actually have no idea what to scribe about. My mind has been on a vacation for the last couple of days thinking and deliberating. I got my first slightly improved salary this week. And when it came, the shocking thing was that it was a deficit of what I had expected. Haisulu! Adan said and I keep repeating this sentence every other time that, "Hii pesa si ya mamako." 

Yours truly also started school again. Strathmore University it is. One day, I will write about Strathmore. When I have explored the institution and turned it upside down in a way that is parochial and less academic. I had always harboured a dream of schooling in this institution even though I was not fully aware of what reason curtailed my ambition. Now that I am there, Yes its worth it to be in Strathmore.

The church. How can I muster the courage to go to church. Each and every time, I have been postponing the maiden step, this year of going to church. You see, going to church in a way helps in reconnecting with the Almighty. It is a place revered and you also get a chance to be solemn and reflect about life. If possible, you give that ten percent and wait to see if you are going to actually reap from giving it because some of the rich people say they never did mind giving it out and planning for it and that is the reason why they continue minting more money.

I also tried reconnecting with the female folk. There is this chic I have been calling and we have been spending almost an hour on the phone, never mind that I have been taking her for granted while she also does not give a dam about me. She is the sly type. Calculating her moves and never letting the cat out of the bag. I will call her soon, just to hear the voice of a lady because I need to speak to someone.

Work, the bosses being a family and running the company  as a couple collided and now the woman of the house is bedridden (self imposed). She is actually reeling from the after effects of being the punching bag when the company is not making sales. We usually console ourselves that time will come when we shall be making sales that are rivaling Safaricom or Apple (Remember Lu pita's 'Your dreams are valid').  Our dreams are surely valid. Rome was not build in one day.

My reading has also gone to the dogs. The blogs, especially gossip ones like Mpasho, Ghafla, and creative writing blogs have been kind of buried under the wraps in the meantime. Sadly, our office which heavily relies on internet was forced to hibernate and engage in offline activities because the servive provider which happens to be Orange was quite shaky and pathetic. Which reminds me that we are working in an industrial area that is far from civility because Zuku has not penetrated this sides.

Talking of Zuku, I understand the love hate relationship we have had. Zuku has really helped me in various facets. The fast internet has relieved me from the exorbitant prices charged by Safaricom which I must appreciate also because if it were not for it, I would not have been having those amounts that have kept me calling the said chic. I hate playing chics though. (Pssst. Nilidhani nikipata pesa ntachezea madem, wapi. Kama haiko kwa damu haiko.)

If it were not for the message that pops on my phone reminding me to use the credit I am availed, chances are I would not have been calling this chic. The problem is that I usually think I am wasting my time or she is not just what we we say in swahili "mgumu." My loose vibes are not going anywhere and the way I hate looking for ladies. It sickens me so bad that I just relent altogether. Lets just say that I love a quick fix. When my heart says no, I never pester it further. I just let it pass hoping that I will find another chic in the event the current one acts a like a rock.

Schooling is something I have never liked much these days. Guess I am aging. As a person, I want things that will let me dig deeper and be on a quest and get it on my own. Dr. Google will aid together with YouTube. Being in class and not being able to answer fundamental and basic questions made me feel like a student who is clueless. I did put myself in my students shoes and felt the pinch.

Moving forward, things may not be looking up. But where there is  a will there is a way.  

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MAMA MSWAHILI: MOMBASA ROAD

"Macho nne, sipendi vile unavyoelezea kile umekila, Itabidi nimekufuka hapa."

"Wale m

lio maliza kula, tafadhalini naomba muwapishe wale hawajala tuna wateja wanatungoja kwa mlango."

The first statement was directed to yours truly and the second to customers who were turning the restaurant into a lounge because the number of customers Mama Mswahili attends to can sometimes be overwhelming. 

You get a call from an campus pal one night and even though it sounds bizarre, you receive it. You are in the loo making another call. A long one that nature has bequeathed all and sundry as a way of relieving the body off toxic wastes that are indigestible and undigestible.

It happens to be one of the buddies you were duped in campus with calling you at an odd time. Yes you are busy pelting stools and you receive it hoping those moments when the missiles force the body to squirm and the mouth to utter incoherent words will not be a case in point. You know there are those projectiles that usually refuse to be released because the body has not had enough water and that means you ‘chur’ (This is a Luo word) loudly when doing your thing. Worse is when the stools destroy the soft and delicate anal canal when the muscles cannot contract forcing you to behead the poop as the remaining portion awaits send off, while still being withheld in the rectum.

Apparently, your buddy just wanted to tell you that he saw you partaking some chow at Mama Mswahili. Of course he has been a regular customer there for close to one year. Hitherto, you had no idea that she was called Mama Mswahili. A phone call that comes like six months gets you on the know. Dudes can be animals, instead of even asking about how you have been, he goes straight to the point asking if you were the person and you consent.

A few days later you meet him in person. As usual, he remains the same. Employment has not changed him much. You know as a starter, you get paid what is measly. The kind of attire he adorns and his not so smooth face evidence the fact that somehow, he is still struggling. You too are. However, you are not better placed to judge if you actually are ravaged by the same effects because it is barely your first month in an office setting.

You wish you had taken up a job that never restricts to the office. Why? It is too monotonous and tedious. Things never happen. You are constricted behind the computer looking for ways to bring business and sales but sometimes it gets boring but since they say patience pays, you actually do that. Remain patient till the eight hours of duty come to a close.

The bugger promises to buy you lunch when he is paid. How we love free lunch. He however never honours the pledge because it looks like things are going south. He is moving out to leave on his own and in a place where he won’t incur a lot of transport expenses because he has grown and needs to exercise some independence (read girlfriends). You remember his caption phrase, ‘Ni tricky.’ Looking back, you recall those nostalgic days in the bed-bug ridden hostel when you used to ask yourself whether you would ever be employed with the consistent unemployment that has peaked and is still high no matter the measure that are both macro and micro economic put in place to curb the devastating effects.

Mama Mswahili’s dishes are what the average Joe cannot afford (Most go to places where ugali and mboga goes for a Kenyan pound). My immediate supervisor told me the reason he goes for lunch is because he cannot afford to torture his temple all in the name of saving a figure you will find you recklessly spent on some stuff you cannot be able to account for. Even though in your former workplace you never went for lunch and got used to it, now things have changed. You buy into his argument because you received some petty cash due to a project that you had undertaken of coming up with the syllabus of a certain course and the notes were approved and voila, you got the cash to sustain your lunch.

Something funny about cash is that, you never know when you will have it. Sometimes you get so broke you feel the world will tumble but you keeping on moving ahead because what is in store ahead is better than what is present. Life is not static. The moment you let the sorrows and frustration it besets take the better of you, the moment you stoop into some unintended frenzy panic and quagmire that clobber all positive thoughts.

Eating at Mama Mswahili is like dining at Hilton or Intercon. It is the most expensive eatery that sells deliciously cooked food and you are served to your fill. There is no surety that the owner of the food kiosk is Mama Mswahili, though. But she is the recipient of cash. She has the eyes of a hawk even though she remains strategically positioned so that she can see all her customers.

Her two waiters are always on the move at lunch time. They serve more than five hundred people on any given weekday. Her meals are pricey because there are some places where you can get what she sells at half the price of her meals. Credit must go to her for having been the one and only food vendor that we trust. You see some folks from campus who also frequent the place and realize you are not alone.

At Mama Mswahili, it survives on referral. The person who referred me here was also refereed by another person and the chain continues. She ensures her meals adhere to standard and the quantity serves you to your fill. This could be the reason why cars are parked outside her place by the proletariats who are willing to forgo the luxury of some more decent food joint.

However, amid all the hullabaloo of the eatery having many customers, it’s like the infamous Club 36  found near  University of NAIROBI only that it is not open air. The walls are made of rusty patched up metals and corrugated iron sheets that you oversee because this does not matter especially those moments when you are hungry and need to eat after hours of staying in the office without even a single meal since breakfast. The aisles are so narrow that no two people can walk side by side. The wooden benches that are synonymous with Kenyan eateries of low-end franchises are the medium of sitting. The tables are never clean even though they have covers that are wiped by the waiters one off. Looking at the rooftop, you notice holes that let in air.

If you want to get out while seated at the far end next to the wall, it means you have to disrupt the other customers who have to give you way because the place is so squeezed. The floor is obviously not tiled or cemented. It being a rickety structure, and the possibility of being run down anytime being high, not much has been invested inside in terms of making the place to look serene and buoyant. The counter where Mama Mswahili sits on slightly elevated is full of plates and mugs that are used to serve customers.

Mama Mswahili is the talkative type. Guess this is a characteristic of the coastal women. She is never quiet and makes so much noise like a hornbill. And luckily she even knows us because we usually enter the place as a group from our workplace. That means when she sometimes sees us, she never fails to greet us because we have been loyal customers. Never mind that there have been suggestions we sample out other eateries which obviously rival this one but the suggestions have been just that, suggestions, as we have deafened our ears.

Sometimes you are tempted to think that the woman bought those food kamotes in her meals so that you find yourself sticking to her meals without changing. But the reality is that as a people, when you get used to one thing, it takes you ages before you can break off a bad or a good habit. Like the habit of never changing something because you are content with the situation.

Status quo could also be a disturbing tenet. How can you decide to lower your status by going to a less pricey eatery (the cheapest food at Mama Mswahili is sh.60). Looking into the future, when things will start looking up, we might just move to the Panari’s, Eka’s or Ole Sereni’s of Mombasa road. Then we shall be like, ‘How come we did not notice that we were probable of being attacked by  cholera or the odd of being devastated by other water born diseases’ pesa mzuri ikiingia.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Picture Source: My Own]

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