BBQ

BBQ

A promise is a debt. Finally, our boss decided to throw a bash that was way below the Nairobian standard.

A Saturday morning when I was at a limbo. Should I go to school or need I just make it to the venue of the bbq which had been postponed because it was not going to make any economic sense the past week over.

Albeit no one knows what is awaiting, there is always that instinct that things may not go well. It usually lingers either on the left or the right hemisphere, only as a man, you cannot decipher where it truly is to be judicious.

The potent feeling is usually overridden when you get carried away in ubiquitous banter that ensures there is ecstasy that negates the former so that you are in deep delusion not knowing when the emotions will rejuvenate.

Arriving at the venue, you find your immediate boss who never considers himself as one because you sometimes chat like teenagers on rampage. Though married, and looks like the bugger is too faithful to taste the waters on the other side of the river, he condones the vulgar and when he sees a really hot damsel, he will not fail to mention it.

When boys meet, they get petty. Especially when there is no female folk who can act as a barrier in their pep talk. Intimate details get discussed. What is worse is when the buggers discussing them are married chaps and you are the only single guy who happens to have no serious girlfriend and the probity of even a come we stay looks like it will be superfluous in dealing with this wicked problem.

Since you are eagerly waiting for the bbq, you ponder how the availability of beer and roasted meat will be. The bugger does not drink. He has no real picture of what makes men like to binge. Men are born to be hunters, when hunting comes to a climax, there is the part where they sit around the fire to warm and strategize for the next catch.

There is always the prospect of talking about that lady who caught your eye. The one with a fine ass, voluptuous hips and pretty face full of make-up, who excites the Goliath of a man into submission. The one who makes men say, “ntakula kwa macho.” But that was rubbished when one chap said there was a guy who he had saying that only cowards of men “kula kwa macho” if they cannot surmount the courage to approach. A real man takes the bull by its horns. If your vibing skills are top notch, you will approach the lady and if possible, bed her. If she brushes you aside, you will have tried. Even 50 cent rapped about getting rich or dying trying. So as a man, you either quench your carnal desires, or die trying. However, with venereal maladies being real, you only need to sheath up or alternatively raise your two fingers up. Who wants to kick the bucket, rotting like a carcass due to ephemeral death all because your libido drove you to eating the forbidden fruit? Anyway, there are peeps who don’t care. They say death is a once in a lifetime affair. But when you trigger it, never let the burden be upon those who affectionately mean a lot to you. Those people who will be by your side when you are wrenching with pain or retching gore on your deathbed. Yours truly is a witness of the same. When as an adult, you have to be put on pampers because you cannot hold it. Your body is too frail and fragile because you enjoyed and never thought of the repercussions having been driven by your loins to sample out the impermissible.

It surely was going to be a day worth it. No ladies were in the house. As a matter of fact, with their big headedness and pegging feelings where it should not be, it was an all men affair. Goat’s meat, chicken and smokies. There was a confession by one chap that it was even better that they were not around. Ladies kind of fear fire and would have been on men’s heels expecting favours of being served just because they are ladies. Which is never right considering women are fighting for equal treatment with men. That is probably why most open air fire chefs are men. Like in Carni, you will not find a single lady because the place for grilling is smoking hot. Had to mention that because it is the only place I have gone to in Nairobi with crocodile meat.

After lighting the barbecue grill, we decided to roast the ready to eat smokies first because they were going to ease the hunger pangs that were evident owing to the way guys did ravenously gobble them even though chicken smokies are like those bananas which are called “othigo jawouro” in jeng. They make you lose appetite faster than you anticipated because you are not yet used to the stuff. I think they are yet to penetrate the market like bacon smokies, ouch.

In fact guys who grew up in the shags are better off lighting a bbq grill than we who pride in being called ‘born tao’. We are rookies in this art. Those guys don’t fear the billowing smoke that makes one feel like cry baby. Back then, if smoke was constantly surging towards you. It only meant one thing. You had done something wrong and the wind had no influence in any way especially in the shags. I give it up for these guys for swiftly figuring out how to light the charcoal grill ingeniously using small wooden sticks because the guy who considered himself an expect using newspaper and paraffin to light the grill had failed miserably in his quest and had to pretend he had gone to check on something while all along he had been chest thumping how he has been doing the same using newspaper because he holds a bash on a weekly basis (I felt jealous and envious).

The smokies were a disaster. The glutton in me sent me to partaking one which was half cooked (though they were ready to eat). To keep up appearances, I devoured it like a hyena because I was also feeling risible hungry. The next person who did the same had to throw the chow away because he could not stand the blech. The flakey nature compounded by the fact that it was not well-roasted made the smokies unpalatable at first. But with their continuity in being roasted they were zingy. The guy who despised them ended up chomping eight. Most of the smokies got blackened because of the excessive heat. But either way, mwenye njaa hachagui chakula.

“Mimi hapana tumia hio na siwezi enda subermarkt kununua, si wewe unajua hiyo.” Ali, the guy who has pathetic English that the queen would be sorry to listen to him said when I ask him about drinks (ale).

Apparently, he had bought some soft drinks manufactured by one of his kith going by the name ‘Tamu.’ There was tamu malt which was an exaggerated spoof of the original malt drink or the poor performing alvaro on the retail shelves. Earlier during the week, Ali had been the punching bag of employees who had been on a go slow for two days for his reckless and arrogant attitude. All the blame had been heaped on him because he had acted imperious in character and this had gone into the nerves of many.

Trust someone to renege upon seeing plenty. Especially when it is going to satisfy him alone, he will act selfish and anyone who does that never realizes until guys decide that enough is enough.

However, Ali is that guy who can be selfless sometimes. He sometimes goes out of his way to give guys victual favours even though most guys are weary of his continuous raucous avarice that he handles everything. Like hijacking the role of procurement when they have been delegated to another because he has the ear of the boss and has a crafty way of convincing the lady boss to role things in his favour. Kuosha wasee nayo.

Away from this Ali guy, roasting meat is indeed a skill. You need to have honed your skill continuously or the craft should come as a talent because there are guys who really know how to tenderly roast meat.

Chicken wings when well roasted are quite tangy. They live that crispy taste in the mouth where you feel like want more. Something good is served in small doses. Since goat meat was in plenty, most forgot about it and concentrated on chicken. But there were guys who just wanted goat meat. Later on when the lean parts of the chicken had been all feasted and the bony less fleshy parts remained is when they realized they should have feasted on chicken. In either way, say the goat meat would have been in scarcity and the chicken in abundance, most would have lamented at how the chow had been discriminately favoured on wrong side.

Drinking plenty of soda with roasted meat is a no no, the effervescence will later be unsavory. The best thing about drinking alcohol and eating plenty of meat is that it is prodigious. The intensity by which alcohol burns meat makes it have the natural, accepted universal link which if compounded with sports make what results to human pleasure among real men. The affinity beer has in the digestion process of roasted meat is in fact what is human pleasure to a man. Ideally, most men would rather give up sex altogether than choose to be vegan if a Russian roulette was the wager in this case.

Roasting and eating meat at you pleasure is fun. You get to know the tit that roasting is no lesser a job. It requires patience, focus and an extra sense that the meat will be alright. But when you are doing the roasting for yourself, you can afford to eat even half-cooked meat because of kuwashwa. But with time when you are satiated, you get the feeling that you need something tender, well grilled.

Since there was no ale, we drunk up all the cheap soda. Even my immediate boss who earlier on intimated he would not indulge found himself smelling of roasted meat. That is if we were smelling of the same which someone alluded to. He really enjoyed it and you could tell that in the event one was held again, he would never miss. The only folly being he does not partake of ale. But societal changes may soon force him to change ship. Who knows? It starts like a zygote by the time it turns into a fetus, you really need professional help. It is called addiction.

After eating to our feel, we had been satiated till that point where you never wanted to see meat again. So more than ten guys could not be able to demolish a whole goat which was less than 10 kilos? It takes real men to do that. We decided to head back home after the meal. It was a day well spent. But more was awaiting.

Since it was a weekend and work was not going to be a holding factor, we decided to go partake ale at one of the guys who lived nearby. It was going to be an after party. That which you indulge in because it is just right to do so.

Legend it was. A cheap brandy you hate the taste but love the liquid that is within our means because you are still hustling to get to that point when Johnny Walker blue label will not be equated to your monthly gross pay but the much you spend on a bad day when you are hell ass broke and you and your boys still need that ka something to burn through in order to cheer you up.

Watching sports while drinking ale is not only macho but lets the virility in you go sky high. You think you have made it while in reality you are nowhere near the dreams you have. The good thing about alcohol is that it gives you a better perspective of how to analyze matches. You become the random guy who is like, “Sanchez should have taken advantage of the small space and passed the ball to Vidal who would have put the last nail on the already dilapidated form of former world soccer giants Brazil.”

Of course you are saying that in Swahili. The man of the house is not drinking on this day. Later when I asked the wife, she told me the guy never does it when she is in the house. She breathes fire and the man of the house would have ended up sleeping outside the matrimonial home in the event he dared try. She told me so. She is a good friend. The one with a curvy derriere you have wishes but since she is taken and a wife of a colleague, you kill the thoughts that you will ever go anywhere. Of course you have talked to her, and she said she was just in the union because of the baby and the fact that she is still not stable financially. Maina Kageni morning discussion had triggered the topic you remember.

Which reminds me of an old chap while I was sending some success cards who started telling us of women who even pay you to engage in the devil's dance with them until they get paged and kick you like an ass does when irked after fulfilling your due diligence.

I got inebriated to that point I felt like I wanted to just slump on the floor in this neatly furnished single roomed house. But when time was up, I had to pick up myself. I was not going to sleep on the floor. I remember going to the Indian toilets and messing it up because I could not aim at the whole in that state. After relieving myself, off we went. 

In the mat, I could not hold it and, I slept all the way. But not with intermittent pukes that left me inn a sordid state. I have to confess that tamu was the cause because the result was just watery not anything solid. I did retch like two times and when I finished, subtly, I felt good.

Taking a mat on my way to the house, I also slept the moment I was seated inside. I remember a hot chic seating next to me, but I could not start anything meaningful with her. She had a HTC phone. Why is it that most chicks in their twennies have this atypical love for 5" phones? Dudes of the same age are still stuck in three inch though like yours truly who currently stuck with an idiot Huawei phone that cannot hold charge for more than 6 hours and keeps on hanging so that you have to keep pressing the power button to reboot it so that it can work well. I will soon upgrade to a P8 lite, if I get the bucks.

On waking up, the lady was alighting. She disappeared just like that. But I came to my senses. I was to alight in the next stage. That is when a stand off ensured.

I alighted alright, but gave out Sh.50 as fare. This got the conductor exasperated as he was demanding twice the figure. I could not yield to his demands because during weekends, that's the fare. Then another joined him telling me to give out money. 

‘Boss hio ndio niko nayo’

‘Buda gari ni mia, nipe pesa wewe’

We continued haggling before I found myself seated on the ground him having swept me off in the blink of an eye. I felt the earth rocking beneath me and my mind drifting in and out like the tide. My throat felt dry like the baked earth awaiting Elnino relief. Those are the times you feel like you were 6’5 foot something or more and heavily built so that the chap would be looking at you like a giant. I wished I was not that drunk to take the bugger hands on. I bet he had noticed and that was the reason why I found myself falling like a heap of potataoes. I walked away ravenous and it is later when I started feeling the pain.

HASTA LAVISTA BABY

[Picture Source: My own]

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I CAN'T SPEAK

“You have done virtually nothing.” Our boss said, her tone full of contempt and skeevy. Even after sacrificing to work overtime each day to register new members and sell products in a never anticipated frenzy she still had the audacity to be so diabolical when we had come to the end of this mental and physical drudgery. Flashback and we had been working in the just concluded Nairobi International Trade Fair.

Working for foreigners can sometimes be very daunting and topsy turvy. Especially those who want you to work for them like a carousel that does not need breaks to ensure that production is continuous. It’s worse when they want to bring their countries laws when they should be following ours and when they are Chinese (What’s wrong with some of these folks?).

The experience at the Nairobi International Trade Fair was kind of nasty if I recall. The way it turned out was quite unsavory. As an individual, sometimes working continuously without rest can be very hectic and wearisome. You need breaks even if it means going out to check on something. But when you are a person in charge or products that are highly arousing the kleptomaniac instincts in Joes and Janes, it behooves you to stay put lest someone who has itchy fingers disappears with your merchandise.

As an online shop, ours was a very busy stand showcasing some of the products we were selling. And it turned out that since we were selling affordably, most people wanted to visit our stand because the products were within their means. Incidentally, we got the elusive media coverage that aided in highly marketing our stand and acting as an advertising platform because it was aired on one of the major televisions. Later on we were asked if we could feature in a story on the business segment.

That also contributed in various personalities of repute visiting our stand. When a person of repute comes to your stand, things usually come to a standstill. Activities cease taking place because that person becomes the center of attention and attraction. There are usually cameramen, and media personalities in tow ready to take advantage of the situation.

The prominent figure in this case was the Deputy President’s wife who was accompanied by some women who looked more than subservient and could do anything just to ensure the master is given preferential treatment. Remembered the right denotation, sycophancy. She looked more developed and at peace though she never bothered to buy anything. I bet the verbatim she had with our marketing manager reeked of ineptitude because the bugger is not all that well conversant and glib with the Queen’s lingo. He earnestly tried to give the impression required when a VIP sets foot but it was as if his premiere backfired.

I remember someone saying she is saved. Actually, I was mesmerized by such pep talk because I could not associate how being saved had anything to do with the business that was being transacted even if it meant that she had stood by her husband during those times when he wept in front view of the camera in the church.

Later on, a certain old photographer came to give our marketing manager a picture of him and her which he apparently wanted to sell at an exorbitant price but the guy could not give in. I bet they ultimately settled on a price that was customer friendly.

Working as a salesperson while remaining at one point is near-death boring. There is a lot of persuasion and patience you need to exercise. The gift of the gab will not help much because you are constantly conversing and explaining to all the pundits and novices about the concept of an online shop which Kenyans have no idea how it works. Minority of people found it awkward that we had to register them though manually before they could buy products from us. Ideally, the more people we registered the better for us as opposed to just selling.

Talking to customers and seeing them repeatedly coming to our stand was not only motivating but it also made us proud because we were giving them what they wanted at affordable prices they had never expected.

My partner in the sales of a variety of products ranging from sandals, handbags, shavers, shoes and dryers was one 9ja brother who went by the name AY. He had decided to abbreviate his name because he had the feeling that Kenyans were not pronouncing it well. I even forgot what the initial stand for. Methinks he lacked the maddening drive to work as he was mostly on his phone never feeling a tinge of guilt chatting via texts to some unknown people.

Working with a Nigerian in sales can be very damning because of their pugnacious nature at the onset. Generally, AY was that chap who was cool, fascinating, bold, confident, and charismatic to be with.

Kenyan ladies have a peculiar and pecuniary penchant for Nigerian men because they believe they know how to go down south and satisfy them meaning these guys get laid with a lady easily on a first date as they are perceived to be heavy spenders knowing how to treat a lady.

AY told me of how he made a certain lady divorce her husband because of skills in bed. When he told Njoki, a lady who was distributing our flyers that he never makes out with women but give them a bewitching oral job that they keep coming back for more. Njoki had to burst out in a delectable cackle because he was demonstrating how he does it while talking about it.

Something amazing about AY was his seductive skills because his accent was authentically Nigerian and though some people thought he was faking it, he remained steadfast because he could not utter a single Swahili word insisting to be spoken to in English. This made him be a darling of many of the ladies. He did charm them and there was this one lady called Max who came to our stand dressed in socks toughies shoes and that mundane blue uniform since she was a medical student at KMTC. That she got smitten and easily gave out her number was an understatement.

When a lady is beguiled, the way she acts even though pretending just tells it all. Max had fallen for AY, no lie. And though she sounded repulsive, her mien betrayed her words. Like she was busy telling me in Swahili to tell AY that his ‘vibing’ skills were well below par as she remained unmoved, though inside she had melted like Kimbo on the surface of a nonstick pan on heat. I relayed the translation to AY and upon hearing this, he went on a charm offensive. Max was with her friend Val, who also got deluded by this 9ja man. Mostly, it was Val who was talking to AY, asking him questions ranging on many issues but revolving around whether he was single.

For the next few days, this average looking chics came to our stand pretending they wanted to buy something. Why were they average? They were neither exceptionally attractive nor exceptionally pretty because they were in school uniforms that never accentuated their figure or gave them the womanly physique that wows a man to spatially think asymmetrically. Guess if they had applied makeup, they would have attracted the licentious man in me to act equivocally.

There was this day when Max came and she was busy on her phone while I was trying to engage her in a conversation.

I remember asking her if she can shop online and her reply was that she was mostly busy during the weekdays while during the weekends, she was either visiting her parents or shaking those legs hence could not find time to shop online. A silly and lame excuse. Isn’t shopping online the most convenient and hustle free option devoid of impulse buying?

When she went away, AY showed me the conversation they had been having while she was pretending to buy something. She had bought a lady purse on the first day to impress AY. However she complained about it so much having drained her finances. Ladies are just good at being sly. While AY was fully into chatting with her, she was talking to me while chatting with AY on Whatsapp. It’s called the art of multi-tasking.

There was also a nurse from KNH who was also smitten. She even went ahead and told him intimate details while I stood there perplexed listening to her. She is the kind who decided to give out her number even before being requested. At one point, both Max and the nurse who went by the name Priscah found themselves on our stand coincidentally. Max is the timid kind of chic and just let Priscah engage in a discourse with AY as she waited for her turn to engage him. When Priscah left, shaking her buxom bottoms much to the chagrin of Max who ideally was not well endowed. It is said that 9ja men love them big and that is what Priscah was. So AY had two nurses after him, a student nurse and a practicing one. Ouch, yet none had seen me worthy of even a number.

Somehow it’s tough being a woman. The rivalry was real. Which reminds me of another pretty yellow yellow lady by the name Damaris who sold us food once at a price she only faked because the chow was worse than that being served in a police cell.

Damaris also got smitten. But she looked like a seductress because there was a time she came with her family to our stand, husband and son. The man looked out of place and appeared like he had been kaliwad chapatti while being shown around.  She had flirted with almost everyone. Even yours truly but I just did not feel her vibe. She told me something to the effect that she worked for an architectural studio doing interior design. I was perplexed because she was mostly loitering around as ideally, she was a food vendor. AY refused to eat her food because he said it was not delicious.  This got her mad as I seconded his insinuation.

On the last day, she gave AY her number and he promised to call. She wanted them to engage in business. Many there ladies also gave AY their numbers. One chic accompanied by her mother who probably was in high-school or on her fresher years also stealthily gave him her contact details especially Facebook because she said her phone was not functioning.

Later on, he told me he had deleted the numbers because he was not a player and him having no money enough to play that game and because he was not that savvy to handle so many ladies. I realized that if you are engaged in sales, you can virtually get so many numbers of different chics if you want to play that game. For a novice like me who never easily gets wowed by very pretty chics, it’s kind of hard to get so intimate to extent of exchanging phone details.

At the show, since our stand was busy, I had no time to visit the said mermaids and midgets that are usually bought for people to pay for to see. Uhuru passed near our stand and when he did, since children were nearby, they all went in a frenzy screaming his name as he waved while being chauffeured in his armoured and bulletproof-glassed vehicle.

But being a salesperson is not easy. You need to lie and constantly craft new ways of how to capture the attention of your customers. No one line works with every customer. Getting them to leave their details is also not easy. Some people are usually hesitant, thinking those details are going to be used for some fraudulent reasons which they are not party to. Like being registered to be members of a political party. However the promise of a gift upon purchasing and registering made us have many referrals.

Obviously, there are those people who just found themselves returning to our stand just because we were selling them at prices unimagined. There were those who came on a daily basis just to find our prices had relaxed. The usual faces were so at the back of our minds that you sometimes got fed up seeing them. They came to the stand more times than usual per day. Yet you had to treat them like newbies. Some told us their names and it personal dealing with them.

But one lady needs a standing ovation in mention because of the way she was able to be given a receipt but never took her goods. Which got us thinking, how was it that she had not taken her goods with her yet she had been given a receipt? She waited till the next day to come claim her goods. That was a police case and she even cried because of losing her money. But those tears could not roll as they were crocodile.

She was persistent and in the long run, she was sorted out. I don’t know how but she never came back the next day. Reminds me of the saying; ‘Hii ni Nairobi.’ Everyone has a quest. The only variation is that you never know if the hustle is real or a shamble. Whether you con to survive or make your chums legally, at the end of the day, it is survival of the fittest as everyone struggles to survive.

So at the end of the show, when our boss became insolent like a rabid dog saying she could not be able to see what we had done. I was so exasperated at how ill someone can behave when he has used your time and energy to make a lot of backs while not appreciating the effort you made to aid in making sales. Like on my part, all the sandals were sold out as well as other products that we had.

Her callous nature was not only brutish but did not augur well with us. As employees, that we had sacrificed a lot only for her to turn that heartless and term our work as worthless was indeed hypocritical. Indeed, we were irked. I was fuming inside. But I cannot find the right words to describe how furious I felt.

At that point we decided to go on a go-slow because that was the right thing for not being treated with respect as employees. Yet we had work ceaselessly even going without lunch on the last day just to meet our target and obligation. It was a lesson well learnt. The terms and conditions needed to have been spelt out at the onset lest the deal is abrogated like it was done in our case.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Photo Source: My own]

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KENYAN BOOKS

Are Kenyan books good reads? This is my 150^th post on blogger (just saying and am a tad proud of it). I now have two Kenyan books under my cap since the begging of the year (sic). All published by Kwani?. Apparently Binyavanga Wainaina features prominently in mentorship by the two authors of the books withal. Kenya literature is past its nascent nappy stages of growth. The testosterone levels in writing are improving albeit much cannot be written home apart from the fact that we still adore the colonial literary behemoths in matters penmanship like the legendary Ngugi wa Thiong'o and Micere Mugo. If our mainstream media especially the dailies are anything to go by in terms of media coverage and mention. Plus they lecture in universities USA, a plus because Kenyans revere so much those who have made it in the west. Say an African weakness.

I will actually buy a book by the latter because she actually has this flawless goddess image when it comes to the literary scene in Kenya and because I have always taken for granted the notion of reading her previous works because of some unfathomable primal. Again which I have no clue about.

Actually, the books were good reads (those that I bought). I am planning to buy more books and ad to my library that I hope will inaugurate a series of works in immaculate condition and crisp so that there are no defects on the book or pages in the near future. How will I achieve this filial overture? I have a salary for heaven's sake. I will prorate a small portion of it to quench my reading thirst. Again it is not easy to get that someone I currently know of who has Kenyan books (lots of them) I can exchange the few books (read two) that I have.


This is the point I remind myself that I need to get out of the cocoon and reduce the introversive nature in me which is full of contentment but still inebriated to maintain my selfish status quo.

Going to buy the books was one of the decisions I had made last year. Whereas I have been postponing the purchase, I finally had the nerves to purchase them two weeks ago on a lousy Sunday mid-morning when I was feeling bored and the couch pastors on local telly were somehow not assuaging the nervous me to sit down and watch the sermon that would have had a spiritual impact on my already fragile amend with the Greater Spiritual Being.

I decided to leisurely foot to make it to the supermarket that sells books because taking a matatu would have instinctively meant I was not going to ponder on the state of affairs in the hood. I realized so much has changed within the little time that I have been tacitly absorbed by work, school and returning back to the house as my wonted. My current salary though cannot afford me a getaway from the city or dining in one of the ritzy restaurants serving gourmet cuisine which I will be eager to sample if matters go well with this beautiful girl who makes my heart skip a bit when I think about her (is this just infatuation or lust). I am complaining inwardly but things are looking up and they will ultimately turn rosy eventually.

On arrival at the supermarket, I was tempted. My initial intent was to procure a single Kenyan book since I was under the impression that one was retailing at Ksh.1000 but luckily, I found two which I settled on. Eve Kasaya's "Tale of Kasaya" and Stanley Gazemba's "The Stone Hills of Maragoli." Settling on the two books was not easy. I had heard of Stanley Gazemba. I initially had no idea on which book I was to buy actually. Still I just wanted to buy a Kenyan book though I had this notion that most authors are novices with their lingo and attribution of their works would be a little easy if not disappointing or full or inadequacy. When the two books turned out to be just slightly above the initial budget I had projected, I was salivating. My fingers were having this powerful feeling of fondling the books that had gathered dust on the shelves, a clear indication that they were less prestigious or in other words they were louche. I love the font used for publishing the books. It was just wow.

But there was an even better offer. It turned out that three books were retailing for just Ksh.1000. They were Western literature by big names all the publications being best sellers. And the way I LOVE how those authors are able to ingenuously tell stories by keep someone in suspense and creating flow that keeps makes you want to clutch on the edges even if you are feeling very gauche.

I pondered over the next available move but stuck on the initial decision. Buying Kenyan books which I did not find in the usual location where they had been placed the last time I went to the supermarket. They were hidden in my opine, because for the untrained eye with no fetish for books, one would even wonder that the same were in existence if you asked latter if they took notice of the Kenyan books. But how many people take their time to read Kenyan Books? The figure is mind boggling because I have no real statistic of the same.

Reading Kasaya’s book, I was eagerly awaiting for that time where she was to get to or complete high school. Apparently, there are very many high school graduates who I know of who cannot intuitively flow as her because she has very good spoken English. The fact that she was a maid past a dozen years and her near death experience working for an employee who also never paid her other than take her once to a salon where she was done her hair at a figure I am even feeling something inside me pierce the heart painfully because it is not what I can spend on beauty in my current state more than ten years down the line. Luckily her neighbors came in rescue and a pastor later told her to forgive as human is to err and instead of reporting the matter to the police, she followed the word of the minister.  

Watching her later on YouTube in Jeff Koinange’s “The Bench” on K24, I could see she was quite polished. Somehow she is achieving her dream because she has been able to move a notch higher in her societal status. Interacting with likes of Ngugi and Micere on the same dias is no mean fete for a class eight drop out. Bet by now, she has  completed her high school as she stated she was going to complete the same and even go to university. This is a true manifestation that the inhibitions in our brains are folly creations that only circumvent our aspiration into cruising a notch higher because time and tide waits for no man who clings on inertia.

The horrific experiences working as a maid was quite an eye opener on the general conditions some maids have to go through. From eating alone while standing in the kitchen, washing bloody underwear, walking at night to go fetch water, working with no pay for months and other unearthly instances such as the probability of being raped by the man of the house and since most do not know their rights, they end up suffering in silence.

A way from the Kasaya’s tale, Stanley Gazemba has a way of using language is sententious and rich, not too much purple prose such that you are lost in flourish of fancy wording. His magical and flowery use of words in a pictographic way leaves one with the impression that they are in the scene and the storyline resonates well with the rural folk with vivid descriptions that create a strong momentum that energizes you as a reader to continue flipping the pages without ceasing. His judicious use of vocabulary is on point keeping one captive and that is what I loved about his artistry in general.

Gazemba’s book was everything that I have always wanted to read in a nutshell. It usually sounds gloriously elegant and beautifully crafted to the eye with near perfect diction. The story setting takes you to a world full of fiction and though it does not capture the real life situation, it is the real deal. The creative fiction in it was however limiting because it oscillates within the rural set-up. Yet most rural folks have relatives in urban areas who they visit once on a while.

It was easy to dissect how the next chapter unravels because there are hints before the next chapter comes in quick succession. Say it’s like watching an Oga movie with a predictable flow. Ombima being the main character has his fair share of life hurdles (losing his daughter, then sight and finally his mistress). His goose is however cooked for deeping his loin in his seductive master’s better half honey pot that results in the latter’s house maid taking over the house when she is still cold six feet under.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY


[Picture Source: Photoshop Inverted Google Images]

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A START UP

It's easy to join a startup and speculate that the future prospects will not only be promising but also have a bountiful effect on the way you view how to operate a business from its nascent stages to that point in time where it can sustain itself into an abnormal profit making venture but also a body corporate which is preferred by many as the best place to start off their career. That is if it will mutate to such a position because most reach contentment stage very early.

I am currently on a sojourn with a startup because I have been frustrated and disillusioned by the whole process of finding an advertised job with better perks and because I want to build up on experience and even if they are going to pay me peanuts, I will have be safe. Being employed in Kenya is tricky. Plus you cannot get employment necessarily with the little knowledge you got in school. Thus maybe, I will change career because I was all intent on getting money. Working for an online shop is quite an experience. It will add up to my ken and who knows? I may get the best experience ever. I have taken a hibernation of a year now never to be applying for jobs. When things are not looking up, I will leave and venture elsewhere because this is not my career aspiration but a means of making money.

Most startups end up not attracting the best talent available in the market because they cannot pay the robust figures that such persons may require because it still has liquidity issues and this may mean only one or two such individuals are chosen while in some situations even none at all. Having meagre financial muscles are some of the causes why most start-up never get to that break-even point earlier on in their life. The worst prospects is that most of these companies or firms end up closing shop especially if the owner is not steadfast and resilient to counter the debilitating effects and conditions of loss making in the fledgling days.

It is even worse when it is one run by rookies who are still learning about the intricacies and ambivalence that beleaguer the industry in general. Education is important. It demarcates the knowledgeable from the riff ruffs who have no idea what they are doing or where to take the company to. The best incentive that a startup can capitalize on is to heavily take advantage of the readily available manpower in the country especially in Nairobi and actualize its mission and vision because there are so many Nairobians in need of an engagement but cannot find one. Its the best leverage.

The best thing so far about start-ups is the fact that they offer employment opportunities to the many Jane and John Does who are eagerly searching for employment (in some cases they take those experienced which is more than often the case). The pay is not at all motivating. The working conditions are worse but you just cope. Nothing like benefits exist. All because the owner is either adamant to offer the industry match or just wants to find out whether you can be patient enough to grow with the company up until that point where it will be minting enough and you sure will be liable for the same because you have contributed in one way or another in making the company live past its tentative years of failure.

There are so many lessons one can be able to learn while working for a company that is growing. As a prudent chap, the far you have reached and the place you are going is what matters. Obviously, all firms started from somewhere, what is however needed is the virility to surmount the challenges that come with the prevailing and upcoming storm and niceties that are bound to happen whether or not a proper plan or strategy is in place.

The best thing is that our company is slowly gaining traction. While it looked like it was going to be a tough ride, the fact that there is hope more than anything else, there is reason to be more buoyant even when things seem not to be working. What with the initial fear having been overcome. There was a time we had this notion that the enterprise will take several months to mature and stand strong on its feet, however, the strategy adopted makes some people just want to come back every other time. Our focus now is how to marshal the requisite market to be loyal and buy more. That way, employees are bound to see that the hard work they put in place does not go to waste.

Does the growth rate meet expectations? Not yet. Until that time when we shall be featured as a success story, we still have a long way to go. We still haven’t been able to reach the escape velocity necessary to be a large, innovative, independent player in the payments space where we can talk with temerity that we are actually there. We still envy those who drive albeit we keep on postulating that things will happen. Slowly, we shall be able to reap big from the patience we have dedicated. Seeing results and acting on it appropriately is far more motivating and time will unravel itself so that things will work just fine. All our employees use route eleven as a way of saving and keeping fit.

“Life, growth, and achievement work like a pendulum. On one side you have failure, rejection, pain and sadness. But on the other side, you have success, victory, joy and happiness.” A successful businessman was once told. The owner of the business knows this well and ultimately acts on it cautiously. There are those times we went without selling and it was tough and hectic. There was constant bickering that things were not going as they smooth as should have. However, now things look promising in the meantime.

Still there is fear among Kenyans about this whole thing of ecommerce and online shopping. Trust is not ingrained among many people. Like there was a lady who intimated about being conned having paid for goods online and it was somehow hard to convince her that we were legit and “gikmakamago”. The few who trust us actually resort back to their initial ways because it is not a traditional way most have been accustomed to. But like social media, most will come to appreciate the contribution this industry offers because life is not all that static. It’s flexibility is the reason why you can have faith that whatever you buy, it will reach you and in a good condition and more so warranted.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Picture Source: My imagination from freepix images]

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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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