STRATH VS UON: PART TWO

continued from Part one
When you go to any institution, you always have to come out with something that is distinctive and tangible. In some institutions, Ethics is taught as any other topic in most of the courses. The famous Hypocritical Oath is synonymous to the medical profession. Chances are, you were taught about Ethical Practices but rarely encounter scenarios where you will apply such gem learnt because you never took the course seriously. The world is now headed towards or it is in that stage where you will be judged by how principled and ethical you are when it comes to issues regarding integrity.

One distinctive aspect that clearly demarcates a Strath student from a UON student basically has to do with Ethics. Not that I have beef with UON. Reality is, the number of students in Strath who are ethically upright vis-a-vis UON is higher. But that is hypothetical, given that there are no tests I have carried out to verify the same. However, there are incidents that have made me believe that Strath has truly given students an edge when it comes to matters ethics.

For example, you might leave you phone or computer unattended and two days down the line if you forgot about it, chances are, you will still find it having been safely kept. There are scenarios where students have been able to recover their valuables even in our class and that is commendable. The same cannot be said of UON. The numbers in UON make it hard to reliably ensure that most students have truly internalized that they should be of high moral standards. In my first year, my mates lost their laptops under unclear circumstances that were quite baffling. The door was broken and the laptops stolen by people we speculated were pals with insider knowledge on how we did things. And such incidents were prone in the hostels, lecture halls were not isolated either. Methinks they are still rampant. When you want to maintain a certain lifestyle and the probability to sustain it is actually low, you may end up doing that which is a vice.

When it comes to lecturers, Strath is still way below UON. There are some lecturers in  UON have more than twenty years or in some cases, 50 years of experience in the academic industry. When one stays for a long duration in a certain field, she is able to execute some complexities with lots of ease much to the chagrin of a rookie. In such circumstances, you have to struggle a lot if not nimble enough with your studies because the lecturers in UON presume you know. But that does not mean that they are better off. There major problem is that they rarely attend classes as they should. In a semester, there are lecturers who will attend a paltry 3 out of a possible 12 classes. Side hustle or something. But that also means that as a student you are disadvantaged because they will rush when time is up to complete the syllabus. As a result, if you are not sharp, you know what’s up.

The only reason why Strath lecturers may fair better than their UON counterparts is that they usually have to compensate for the hours they have not lectured. Plus they usually have tangible reasons why they never show up. Most however juggle studies with teaching which is not a bad thing considering that the two go hand in hand. That they are less experienced is not in doubt. Many of the mates we were with in UON have confessed of the same. Rarely have I encountered a scenario where a lecturer comes to teach just by sheer recalling the topic having taught it continuously for a considerable period of time.  Most are usually in a rush just like their counterparts in UON. This can be attributed to the public university mentality that they went through as students. However, if you find a lecturer who studied in Strath, the chap is very thorough and lethal. Like we were taught by an upcoming lecturer who had just transitioned from Strath and the dude was quite smart. However, I must say that having been in a similar position before, teaching is different. Not a single day is the same.

When it comes to sports, Leos have an edge over Mean Machine. The situation is grim for my former Alma mater. My current has invested a lot and they are doing well winning many tournaments that they feature. That’s the reason why they continue to shine perpetually as the latter continues to sink but not deep in the abyss. But I have never attended any of the games featuring the two teams. I am also too busy these days so much so that creating time for hobbies is becoming a real hurdle that I am forced not to indulge in.

When it comes to ladies, UON beats Strath hands down with ladies who are beautiful. Could it be because of the strict policies put in place shielding the chics from coming out as pretty in Strath? I doubt. However, even though the number of those who are pretty is not as high, the number of those who are next to those who are pretty is commendable. They rarely have those who have menial features which is quite prevalent in UON. But being a liberal University, any lady in UON can look good with time and they do after sometime. The only downside is that some become lovers of sugar daddies forgetting that that is a pro tem relation. Once you are sell by date, another flame will replace you sooner than you expected. Who knows, chances are ladies are just the same. Maybe some Strath chics are also into such affairs only that they keep the affairs discrete. Not openly where you can find them out.

There is also the issue of goons. There is no doubt that UON has the highest number of them. My pal in campus used to say that if he had the chance, he would ensure that students from a certain tribe or region in Kenya would never be given admission in the institution because they really get influenced to become goons once they develop a liking for mullahs. Or is it something to do with attitude. And goons control everything in UON. But they have a liking for elections. You have to part with some cash to be able to campaign if a candidate. Plus they can even stab you in worse scenarios. They also control other activities that you can never know if you never have a penchant for campus affairs. On the contrary, Strath has no goons. It does not make life any interesting. You sometimes need societal misfits who make life worthy a tale.

One thing I hate about Strath is that it has no student celebs. Those students who are influential and call the shots or are known by almost everyone. The ones who are known to be overly drunk, those who are thought to be licentious, those who peddle illicits and the list is endless. This is a bland institution if you are after adventure. Most guys are chummed and class difference really plays out. You never hear of the guy who has dated almost all the beauties in the institution. Neither do you hear of a guy who did something funny like whore being beaten up by comrades while it is the student who solicited for services he refused to pay for her dues. At the end of the day its the society scoffs at ladies of the night. Right.  Guys drive in Strath but don’t know that that is an aphrodisiac for the average lass. They got deep pockets but they don’t show off like they should. Me wishes these buggers were in UON. Where life is a real hustleGuys who did drive in UON had a bevy of ladies to choose from. But am past that age of catching up for now to reliable get the true picture. I only do so when I meet friends. Past that, I am a societal recluse. As such, I do not have a lot of insider information given that I only go to Strath thrice a week.

One thing I love about the student centre in Strath is that it inculcates responsibility in an individual in as much as it is affordable and quite posh by its standards. You are required to queue for your food which is usually a buffet served by very neat servers even though some may sound harsh at times. You pay after collecting your food as opposed to UON where you had to pay before making an order which you may never get. Plus the variety of meals is adequate while in Strath, you have the choice of fruits if you want a dessert or a cup of coffee which is prepared by a barista if you want luxury (am usually broke that's why I find that a luxury), there is cake, veges, snacks and other meals I am not sure of the names. There is still no Java as in USIU though. Once you finish eating, you are required to return the plates, cutlery and cups to the kitchen. I just love the ambience of Strath’s student center. It's quite cosy though noisy in comparison to that of UON.

I had never noticed that there were fashion cops in Strath until one of my pals told me that those ladies manning some of the entrances were cops to look out for ladies flouting fashion rules. The are no metal detectors also for the sentries in contrary to UON. Just like UON, you have to issue your ID if a student or national ID if an outsider. It’s a measure to reduce on those who take advantage of freebies or criminals. Those who like freebies are also the chaps who contribute to diminishing standards at the end of the day.

Am running short of words, therefore I have to make a conclusion. If I was offered a chance to study in either institutions, I would have gone for my undergraduate studies in Strath. It makes sense. However, the only downside is that it has no numbers and a delectable experience given that most guys act kind of upright. Where people are numerous, you get to see very many awkward characters and even make so many friends if you are not a social wreck. On the contrary, I would prefer doing my postgraduate studies in UON if I will gather the nerves to do it. It is more demanding and makes you more independent. UON is in another level when it comes to studies. That could be the reason why so many lecturers from Strathmore were once students in UON. 

But as an individual you always have a choice. Your success is never tied to an institution. It’s you to make hay while the sun shines. The world is not concerned by your onslaught. If victory comes your way, you will smile widely at the end of the day. Alone.

PS: My boys and I love shenging. And that's probably the reason why those English twanging lasses at Strath usually give us some reason to think they are 'it ladies' who we cannot match. But at the end of the day, who knows the language they speak in their households? Food for thought.

Hasta La Vista, Baby.

[Photo Source: My own]

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STRATH VS UON

What’s in a school? The dichotomy is not in the number of prosperous individuals who have gained societal mileage in terms of recognition. It is the way it makes you feel as an individual. It’s never about the buildings and facilities that you will live after your succinct sojourn. It’s not about what the society views the scholars who peruse and pursue academia to the greater heights so much so that they leave an indelible mark. It’s not about those dons and staff who contribute to its wholesomeness.

The end product is you. As an individual, you reflect so much about the institution you have gone through. Whether it instills discipline, confidence, life skills and all the relevance needed to survive in this world that is a monster waiting to take you down. Or a pugilist with clenched fists ready to throw jabs and at the same time swiftly miss the nerve wrecking punches that you throw with rage.

As a scholar who has gone through two of the best varsities in Kenya; Strathmore, a private Uni, and The University of Nairobi, a public Uni. Allow me to boast a little. That’s the extent to which I can take pride.

At the end of the day, no one cares whether you went to Harvard, Princeton, Oxford, or the many Ivy League universities if you turn out to be an academic dwarf. Guys will be like, ‘That guy is from Harvard. Look at the way he is now languishing. I don’t even see the reason why he went to that good school.’

What many who reason in this context fail to realize with their parochial views is that some of those guys only failed to go to greater extent because of one or two variables that if addressed early on, could have contributed to them being respectable people in society.

Like I know a guy who has become a deplorable village sot having been to an international school here in Kenya and failed to finish Uni because of drugs. However, when you take time to talk and reason out with him, you realize that he is sane but has been only discouraged by the debilitating effects of a draconian world. As such, abuse to drugs is the only relief he gets when he is undergoing those perpetual lows has in life.

That was a by the way.

Strathmore is just like any other university sans the formal protocol it has adopted that makes people think that it is stringent and less accommodative. To some extent, I cannot deny that sometimes I usually feel like am in a cocoon only that I cannot come out guns blazing (sic) because there is nothing I would gain at the end of the day other than causing an insipid scene of less value. That’s the reason why I somehow love The University of Nairobi.

When you go to The Prestigious University of Nairobi, you are first told that you are in the best Uni, which might not be the case. But as a fresh scholar who has no experience, you believe that it is the gospel truth. Then your life starts evolving once you start classes. One of the best things about UON is that it allows for radicalism. Which is rare or non-existent in Strathmore. The only form of radicalism that is present in Strathmore is intellectual extremism. When it comes to behaviour, you will be expelled before you even know it. That’s the reason why there is nothing like Political Science, whose dons approve of the same at Strathmore.

When it comes to admission, before you get that letter, you have to go for a requisite debrief in Strathmore which I have never heard of anyone who failed to meet the mark. Maybe, there are those have failed to meet the mark. However, they never write about their rejection. The debrief is usually scheduled after taking an in-house exam and providing  necessary certificates that you have qualified to be admitted to the school you are going to. It's not a lengthy process though.

On the other hand, to gain admission in UON, you only need to have your certificates ratified and there is an induction process or orientation which is present in almost all universities. There are nothing like interviews, doing entrance exams, upon getting that entry letter, you look for your classes and you are good to go.

There is also the misconceived notion that Strathmore is for ‘mababi’ while the hoi polloi who have to burn the midnight oil are the people who will gain entry into UON. To some extent the argument is true, but realistically, the same individuals who go to UON still go to Strathmore. Why? There is a saying that goes like, ‘If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.’ But rationally and realistically, there are many students from humble families in UON as compared to Strath.

Just go to any hostel inhabited by guys in UON, you will find out that they never take hygiene seriously. The haphazard use of the facilities like sinks and WCs and improper disposal of waste is enough to tell you where someone is from. The smell of omena in the hostels and vandalism of most facilities is enough to tell you that such an individual has rural or modest upbringing. Chances are, you will find no one drives an inherited or own car in a class of 500 students, especially for guys in module one. The fashion sense is a disaster. Just let me not go deeper because the meals being eaten at the various messes are not good either.

Strath on the other hand has no hostels of its own. However, those that are nearby are hygienically maintained to admirable standards and you pay a dime as opposed to those in UON. The much you pay in UON for a year is half the monthly rent for a Hostel near Strathmore, which is if you are module one student at UON. Fashion wise, there is little or no fashion in Strath. Broke students wear khaki pants and camera tops that God knows where they got them. The probability of a classmate spinning a car on a daily basis is as high as breathing oxygen and that’s the reason why they are ‘mababi’.

Toilets. If you think that functioning hand dryers, disabled student loos, tissue papers and liquid hand soaps complete with instructions on how to wash your hands are an unnecessary luxury in an institution, as well as perpetually hygienic WCs, then you should be in Strath. There is a big difference between the toilets in Strath and those in UON. In fact, I relearnt how to wash my hands satisfactorily from the instructions engraved on the walls from Strathmore. The doors are not vandalized so there is no probability of someone crashing in to find you in the act. I say, they are cleaner than the place where I used to work in Parklands even though it has more traffic than that building.

There is also the issue about facilities. Whereas UON had many facilities, the reality is that many were not maintained on a continuous basis. There was a time the auditorium seats in 844 building were infested with bedbugs as a result of negligence for a considerable period though they were repaired in the long run. There are some facilities that broke down, like doors to some lecture halls and by the time I was finalizing my stay, there was no single projector that was functioning. Lecturers had to come with school projectors or their own projectors to classes even though there were those installed in some lecture rooms but due to negligence soon broke down. Strathmore is however old school. Lecturers have to use chalks as opposed to pens because they have green-boards as opposed to white-boards. The projectors are in good condition and are in all the classes I have been in.

The façade of UON which is a remarkable whole mark in architecture due to the design that is sole to the institution is quite commendable. You must agree the buildings stand out. The picturesque view is quite aesthetic and there is something that makes one feel proud when you walk on the pavements in UON as fresher. It has a clear demarcation of where students should be walking and there was proper planning when it comes to where schools are located. The lawns are well maintained and it has vast space in as much as most of the roads and parking lots are tarmacked. 

On the contrary, Strathmore is vague in terms of the architectiure. It only acquired a façade recently which is still in the growth face. Initially, the façade was bland with a high school like ambiance. And generally, unless you are a student, you don’t get to see this delectable aura. Though it is a seasoned institution, it has not grown in heaps and bounds in terms of architecture and infrastructure. There are few structures that are monstrously massive. It does not ooze a lot of oomph in this case. But even though it lags behind in scenary, it compensates for the drawback by ensuring it does not falter in ensuring the standards are high while inside. There are no dust, cobwebs, and graffiti on the walls and corners. Like UON, it is a worthy experience that is welcoming while inside, not just a macabre pile of bricks.

I must say I love the ambiance of studying in the lecture halls of Strathmore. They are well aerated, full of life, well lit, soundproof and generally provide both formal and informal relaxing spaces for studying. On the contrary, not all places in UON offer a good study environment. There are certain times when it rained and the basement in Education Building would be flooded and that was among the few places you could hide to study if not the library. Allow me to say up to this point, I have not gone to the Library at Strathmore. Yet I call myself a scholar. But the library is smaller in comparison to the mighty JKML just by the visage. I should go inside one day.

[Part Two]

Hasta la Vista Baby.

[Photo Source: My Own]

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EMPLOYABILITY.

I am currently pursuing an online course on employability. There is a big difference between employability and employment. The former encompasses the latter. To paraphrase what employability entails, this has to do with gaining knowledge, skills: technical and soft skills, achievements, and personal attributes that makes one an effective employee to make successful transitory contribution to the employer, colleagues, the public, clients: both prospective and current and the society in general.

Employment on the other hand deals with having the job and being able to make a difference in the workplace. The difference is subject to interpretation depending on which field one is in. As a blogger, I am at making a difference through writing. What about you?

So far, I have been applying to mainstream angel entry jobs, low cadre jobs an middle-level positions. The response from employers has been quite skeptical. Am even planning to call a truce with one of the employers. I don’t believe in employment bureaus. I have not signed on any up until now. Yes they might help me find a job, or the very minimum secure me an interview. But I am still reluctant. One of the reasons I have not used fee-based bureaus is because I hate to think of a person ‘eating my money’ just to find me a job. Secondly, I believe that I should fight for the chance like everybody else. Those favoured and those who are not. Thirdly getting a job is not currently my raison maître. I want to test the system. Which I am having a futile debut at ever since I quit to concentrate on studies.

One thing I learnt about studies while being employed is that they greatly improve on one’s employability. They make you be regarded as able to take up more responsibilities and be seen as an effective time manager. There are also intrinsic gains to a part-time student that he or she knows while going through the process. The challenges are pecuniary and both peculiar. Pecuniary because you have to forego some luxuries an pecuniary because of the opportunity cost of the time one spends in ensuring they never fail.

Allow me to surmise on some aspects that I have learnt over the years as I prepare myself for employment. Last year, I prepared only for an interview (Read it here). Then, I thought that what mattered was how to impress a panel or an interviewer while undergoing a scrutiny. Now, I have a broader perspective. The key lies in preparing the self continuously. If you have limited entrepreneurship ambitions in the meantime like yours truly. You may impress today, but that does not mean you will still have your verve in the near future when contemplating to switch careers if that happens. Anyway, if you have a pusher, why should you mind? But even pushers have to shove that which they are sure about. Competency is such a required tenet that if you fail in meeting the minimum standards, then you are as good as obsolete unless the pusher will shoulder the baggage.

I have learnt that everything boils down to communication.  If you can accurately convince the other party into buying your argument, then you are good to go. Watching the movie ‘Moonwalkers’, probably one of the reasons why Johnny Thorpe was able to convince Kidman into bringing him film director Stanley Kubrick was because he did not falter in his communication skills. Even his body language never betrayed him. He took a phoney to Kidman, received the pay and scripts and went to offset his other debts.

Communication is paramount. Whether you want to get employed, strike a deal, present a proposal or be in business which has a perpetuity. If you can tacitly express yourself through other leveraged ways, well and good. You have communicated.

Being able to express yourself in a comprehensible way, concisely and driving the point home counts for 80% of striking a deal. Knowledge counts for 5% and Skills 15%. It’s palpable to convincing a lady, which I rank very low at. You always need that third eye and ear, an extra tongue a flair for being well versed with the surrounding. However, in my case, I must confess that due to my botched ability in mustering the skill to effectively and efficiently express my ideas in black and white, I have not been able to be called for even a single interview. Let me not lie, I have never gone to an interview I applied to, most of them have been referrals. Most are a result of the  former and come  without financial constraints on my side.

Perhaps I have wrongly written my CV for the right job. My resume is a two page document. I call it a bikini CV. Once someone said that a bikini is brief enough to reveal all details but covers the really essential details one wants to get acquainted to. I love the brevity because it gives the prospective employer room to gauge whether am competent for the job or not. Consequently, it reduces the time she needs to make a decision as she can easily flip through the document. You guessed it right, its pithiness has probably contributed in employers finding my credentials below par or of no value towards contributing in ameliorating the returns or contributing towards the goals and objectives of the firm in the long run. Pole Musa!

Hitherto, I thought that I would easily transition to another job having quit my former employer who made it clear that it would be in contradictory to company policy if I was going to be studying part-time. Even while working, I knew it was not going to be easy getting another job. I had tried and know the numerous futile attempts I made. Employers hate rookies. They take long to adjust to the workplace, are incompetent in their view and lack panache. They however will give an ear to an amateur with validated experience. So, internships, attachments or related jobs experience is as important as having done the job.

Relating to the employability course, I realized that participation in other aspects like sports, voluntary work, travelling and lots other engagement is important. All jobs have a skill you can always take to the new job. Cooking can help in being a watchman. Only a HR professional knows how.

Because of the enormity of the studies I am undertaking, I preferred staying out of employment. I cannot dispute that learning has no rewards. Time is the most important factor. If you easily find your life’s passion, then you know what is right. But with our increasingly competitive world, having an edge in terms of skills gives one an operational advantage. I no longer want an employer who will look at my transcripts then conclude that I am not worthy of the position. Irrespective of the paper qualification, I still work towards my employability. Whether it is through perusal or daily life experiences, at the end of the day, what matters is that God added me another day that I heavily invested on. How I use it in adding value to my eventual career boils down to the management of hours I have at hand.

The other day, I was flicking over the pages of a daily looking at the job segment. Who did I see? A certain campus mate appearing as model for their company’s newspaper advert. I remember holding my horses in applying to the said company. Even a certain lady who was ‘spit’ by my first year roommate was now plying her trade with the prestigious auditing firm. However, as a consolation, I can say I have never loved auditing. Just as you may abhor being a house maid, shamba boy or a toilet cleaner. However, the rewards and benefits the company bestows its employees, you cannot fail to reconsider a profession in that field. Plus you may find other befitting roles once in.

Seeing those guys on newspaper did remind me of one Greg Smith. He was once a vice president at Goldman Sachs, where he earned over $500K a year. Greg was even in the advert showcased to budding employees on how pleasurable it was to work for the investment bank. He depicted the role model who transitions from campus, then into the workplace seamlessly. However, in what appeared to be a complete icebreaker in the industry, he wrote an op ed in Times Newspaper signalling his resignation. Colleagues and the firm woke up to find out that he had resigned. As a student, I find the mechanism he used to tender his resignation very unethical. He also wrote a book which industry analysts studied carefully and vindicated his former employer of any wrongdoing. The fact that he was also engaging in ‘whistle-blowing’ instead of seeking the advise of independent counsel, or his supervisor or better still the compliance department was enough to also hold him accountable.  To cut he long story short, those two pictures of my former campus colleagues did stir something very crucial. I am challenged. I did ask myself, ‘What misdeed did I commit?’ Nevertheless, I am writing about it now. Yes I am also into writing. For there is a whole lot of life ahead. The only difference made is when the grim reaper ascends or otherwise.

In that case, allow me to introduce you to investments. It is said that the best investment is to invest in yourself. With that regard, I am envisioning myself being a C-suite professional in this angle, or a portfolio asset-manager or research analyst. The list is endless. Whichever comes my way, I am welcoming it with open arms. If something more appealing comes my way after the rigorous studies. You know what I will do.

In our investment profession, there is being passively involved and being actively involved. Like I chose to be actively involved in my studies. Even though my old man paid for my tuition fee, I found it was not enough. I felt like I needed to get out of the passenger mentality. I remember watching a certain lady on an investment channel I have subscribed to on YouTube. She decided to take the bull by its horns by enrolling for a PhD program aimed at equipping her with investment skills. That way, she could be able to analyze investments, select securities and construct an investment portfolio. That way she could be able to chart her own destiny with her money while investing. Obviously she lost when starting. Did she give up? No. Initially she relied on the advice of an asset manager in an investment bank to guide her on how to invest. But she was not getting results. After the studies, she moved from investing in mainstream equities to investing in derivatives (options to be precise). I know that is jargon. But you can always google the terms, right. She studied while working on a fulltime basis, as opposed to I who resigned. With $10000, she was able to make over $100 million in three years. Through active participation. If she invested without knowledge, she would have lost everything. Hard she taken a passive approach in investing, she would have ended up either getting a return of 10% to 20% a year. Does that ring the bell? She did risk investing for herself and the returns were a boom. And you know what? The asset manager who was to invest her money is now her partner.

I introduced the word risk and return. I am increasing the probability of my returns by hedging on the risk of failure by dedicating more time to study. I am a full-time student till I get a fulltime job. My rote is flexible, reason why I can take any form of employment that will aid in me getting credit points in my career of choice. I am not vitiating the role of the tutors who play an instrumental role in my studies. Only that I am taking an active role. In that regard, I am improving on my employability even though I am not employed. If I will not end up being employed, I will resort to entrepreneurship. That way I will have taken advantage of my employability.

Studying my ethical and professional standards notes, I realized that I could not mark as important sections I felt were weighty. Lesson learnt? All ethics and professional standards conduct is important. Am studying via a computer. Slow, tasking and loathsome. But I realized one thing. If I am professionally competent and can return the best results to a client without observing ethical standards, does it really matter? Yes. We all want to be associated with success. That is why a code of ethics and standards of professional conduct is critical. When we acquire knowledge over time, we can use it to societal detriment or benefit. That is why guidance is necessary even if you think you are the most moral of all persons. Maybe the Son of Man is the only being who can be exempt. But other mortal beings are not. Reason why we have a code that guides our profession.

Reading through the fiasco that led to the collapse of Imperial Bank. A bank whose logo signified royalty. As such it should have treated clients with reverence only given to a queen or king. I did bemoan the death of ethics and lack of standards of professional conduct in a profession that is at the centre stage of man’s interest. Money. We surely are beholden to money. I am not a morality evangelist though. If I was one, EACC would have probably hired me based on the track record which I don’t have.

Anyway.

I am only paraphrasing on the vices I read about. Whether true or the converse. Those that the common man finds too complex to understand. Especially when they do not innately affect them but macro economically contribute to poor credit rating of the country, collapse of the shilling against the dollar and serious integrity issues on holders of such institutions that affect the fiscal and economic policy of our beloved country.

In my opine, there is only one thing that should have prevented the collapse of such a bank. A code of Ethics and Professional Standard of Conduct. If only the employees acted at the interests of the beneficiaries (bank account holders) and the probable compromise of the Central Bank Governor through his better half, who should have acted with authority. If only such people knew about ethics, and acted with veracity. Probably the bank would have not been placed under receivership and clients loss their money due to the requirement of debt service before other financial obligations have been ratified. Is another scandal in the offing? This is Kenya.

Away from matters financials. Do you find anything that makes me tick? I think I am not a hustler. Not that a go-getter who is nimble when it comes to employment. But hey! I now know the genesis as to the reason why I had to fork out more for my professional course. I read about it and there is something called mosaic theory, I was able to piece up things. You see, I also don’t have a mentor. That someone I look up to. Is it because of my big ego? I am ready to kill it. Like I killed my conscience to become a teacher for a few months knowing full well the pay is wishy-washy.

Now piecing up all that information, you realize that my employability has not gone to the dogs. It’s only time before I get the right employer. But you see how things are related. A bank is imprudently run, it uses a gifts and benefits to influence the decision of the Central Bank Governor. The bank collapses, share prices of other banks also plummet, the number of investment bankers being employed thins and I am now here griping at my probable cause of lack of an opportunity in the investment industry.

This is a matter of conjecture. It is best left to the pundits and naysayers and haters to debate about. And on that note allow me to end with my signature of

Hasta La Vista, Baby.

[Picture Source: Google Images]

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TILL WE MEET AGAIN.

Back in the days, while I was still in high school, there was a certain hymn we used to like singing with a lot of fervor. Especially while going for mid-term or long holidays while taking a break from schoolwork.

‘God be with you till we meet again’ it was. Emphasis was placed on this verse with a series of ‘Hey, hey!’ However, it was an emotionless song. Who even cared singing, especially in an all-boys school? But when it came to this hymn specially reserved for such occasions, shouts were paramount. Ideally, I don’t remember singing it during the normal parade days when we sung the hymns. Our new principal while a sophomore forced us to make use of 'Golden Bells', which used to be on the dark corners of the metal box aiding in gaining rust during our 'mono' years in high school.

While reminiscing about this song, a certain hymn also came to my mind. ‘In the sweet by and by.’ It’s dirgic. When I usually sing it during solemn times, I normally sniffle when emotions take the better of me. Thank goodness they never result into sinuses. I  like the refrain. It makes me realize that we are on a succinct sojourn here on earth as much as it is a succor. After singing it, then I become touched for a short moment, then I swing back to reality. That I quickly forget is not a lie. But here are the lyrics to the refrain.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall  meet on that beautiful  shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall  meet on that beautiful  shore.

Over the weekend, I went for the interment ceremony of my late uncle Barry. The one I had a half a day with at KNH. He had finally succumbed after being bravely borne to some complications that probably led to his untimely demise. However, for a man that strong, he remained coherent and clear in his voice till the last minutes when he went to the other side of life.

Sometimes I usually imagine how it would be life after death. However, I would never write my own obituary. As a matter of fact, if I write it and God-Forbid something ill happened to me, my cadaver will be declared ceremonially unclean. Anyway that is something none wants. We all want to remain alive. Forever, which is impossible. Even when we really know that we are on the brink of kicking the bucket, we just want a reminder that we can still breathe for the next minute and it should be compounded.

My family does not believe in Langata cemetery. When one finally succumbs, he is taken back home so that we can honourably give him a decent send-off. Because it’s a process, plans have to be made and funds raised. That means that it takes time before the actual ceremony takes place.

We met on several occasions to organize for the fundraising. Usually, to cut on costs, we normally met in a city restaurant and bought drinks and snacks as we planned on how to approach the issue. The major fundraising was held in a certain social hall where all and sundry were invited to aid in contributing towards the funeral expenses.

Back home, guys believe that certain native singers should be hired to sing as the body is being taken home. Mourners should be fed lest people start talking. Local drinks for guys in the reserve should be bought. Music should be played at least twice; the day before the interment and after interment. Funeral announcement should be made on local radio for all to hear for at least a week. And a lot of other logistics that usually involve expenses.

The journey back to my aboriginal roots usually takes seven hours. However, this time round, we were not travelling back with Uncle Barry. He had been transferred in advance and kept in a morgue in my home town. So we had all the time on our sleeves to travel. Guys were on a road trip. Personal cars, hired cars and I don’t know what, were the means of transport.

All the guys we were travelling with were in between their twenties and early forties. And most never did mind taking ale. So cars were stuffed with ale for consumption during the wake and while journeying. Photos were also taken on the various stoppage points and stories ‘beaten’ while travelling. 

The journey from Nairobi is usually ecstatic while driving back with eccentric people. Even though it was supposed to be a grief-stricken journey, it turned into an enjoyable ride. It being a Friday, cops were strategically positioned within a kilometer in some stretches and that limited the speed in which one could travel. I remember being asked for my DL only once. I misplaced the damn thing a year ago and was lucky to have never been asked until when I had renewed it and only had a paper from e-citizen to display as the license.

Uncle Barry’s body was at a local morgue. Being a tall guy, a lengthy casket had to be found to ensure his body did fit inside. There is a bus named, ‘Jaiko’ which translates to ‘the undertaker’. It normally leaves Nairobi very early to arrive in my hometown in time to enable folks undertake their obligations. Those who normally board it love the fact that it keeps time. However, I am not sure if that’s the real name of the bus or it was just another fabrication by those we were travelling with.

At the morgue, we found out that the number of the male species that were succumbing at an early age was quite exceptional. Ladies who had succumbed were few. Judging by the  pictures of the people whose lives were now no more.

There was quite a stand-off at the entrance of the morgue when we arrived because some people wanted to receive the body of their loved ones before others who had earlier on been cleared. In fact, they wanted to forcibly gain entry inside the morgue to perform the task  of the mortician. Luckily, family members had ensured that the body of Uncle Barry was removed in advance. Therefore, we only saw as guys were struggling to gain entry inside the morgue. Shielding them were sentries who never wanted those rascals who were acting savage to enter inside the morgue.

Apparently the number of ladies who came to accompany their loved ones was also many.

After finalizing on a short prayer ceremony, the body was placed inside the hired hearse and off we set off for my rural home.

Come to think of it, most of us usually travel back home only during such occasions as funerals and Christmas or for remembrance of a departed soul. This is usually an opportune moment for members of our extended family to bond. We spend the better part of our lives living in the city and various towns then end up in a home we never thought we would stay in, the grave. Luckily for Uncle Barry, his insurance had taken care of most of the expenses. But the budget is never enough, so it forces family and friends to chip in to boost the income availed by insurance. Which means I should also join an insurance to ensure I plan for my future whether I kick the bucket or not. It’s crucial.

When I was young, during the journey back home from the morgue, people used to sob uncontrollably and others even fainted just by the view of the body of a loved one. It was the kind of sobbing that was genuine. Nowadays, there are professional mourners. They get hired by those whose loved one is either unknown by the villagers or severed ties with the rural folks. These are people who go to towns and stay for long so that they are forgotten by the folks back at home.

Such people elicit no feelings among those back at home when they demise. Our culture is such that we have to cry while taking the body home. Most ladies are the ones who engage in that. They wail and shout to alert villagers that the body is getting back home. As for men, they also shout carrying twigs or a fly whisk as the hearse’s siren blares. Cars accompanying the hearse also honk loudly and put the car hazard on while being driven at snail pace. Children also are not left out as they come out to witness how the late is being taken back home. The youthful guys carry twigs and run helter skelter chanting 'Jowi'. They are also in charge of carrying the body of the deceased.

When the body is removed from the hearse, it is carried to the homestead where a priest or a local pastor will pray, after the mourners have calmed down. Mark you, the body has to enter the compound using the main entrance, which is cleared in advance if twigs had grown on it. Normally, before the prayer, the young men carrying the body usually run with it shouting heroic words if he is a man for around five minutes in his compound or his father's compound. It’s a ritual that I have no idea about. Incidentally those who carry the coffin are normally inebriated. After the prayers, people will sit and take tea with either ‘mandas or nyoyo’. A goat or sheep called 'chiayo matin' is slaughtered for consumption that day. 

Obviously you will hear latecomers wailing at a distance as they come to confirm that it truly is the body of the deceased.

During the wake, the songs that are usually played are gospel songs. Rarely are candles lit, apart from those who know the meaning of it. A sermon is usually given and people from various homesteads join the family members of the bereaved. If it rains before the burial day, most people say that the deceased is crying. That night is also when the grave is dug, a cow is slaughtered and the food is prepared.

In my rural home, catering is a big business, I even have an uncle who left his job in a hotel to start his own catering business and he has never looked back. From funerals, graduations, birthdays, Christmas, and Easter. He usually has a tight schedule during the weekends and being seasoned in the industry, you need to book him in advance. His clients range from the who is who, and he name drops those big names when I ask him of his latest business.

During the burial day, relatives and friends will come from various places. Those given a chance usually eulogize the deceased of his heroic deeds. A funeral is treated like a wedding in our place. Weddings are the reverse. They involve people going to the church, afterwards, they go for a small meal then the ceremony is over. In our place, funerals are budgeted for. If people never eat, they will annul to having gone to such a ceremony. And most people don't like it when their homestead is talked about illy. I usually wonder why funerals are treated as such. In some cases, there is food reserved for the VIPs and there is another reserved for the villagers, who come en mass especially if the person who died was a prominent name.

After the burial, those who want to leave usually do at their pleasure. One thing is for sure, as long as food is in abundance, people will stay for a while. However, in limited quantities, they will exit the very day. But that night, there is usually music played all night long till the wee hours of the night. Boys normally outnumber girls during such an occasion. It relieves the family members of the grief they have. Long ago, such music used to be played for even a week. Some even involved bringing a local music band to sing for mourners turned revelers. 

Sadly, there are times when such reveling turned disastrous as no one was frisked upon entry. Chances are, you would find a person getting hit on the head with a panga, or an innocent dude whose dancing skills charmed a village beauty being beaten by a bunch of hooligans high on bhang smoked with abandon. Some marauding hooligans also carried whips called 'boka rao' they whipped those who crossed their line. Jik, a local drink is usually consumed in colossal amount and this also triggers the few cases of violence some goons engage in. Luckily, the brutality is usually quelled by those who want to enjoy, but if it gets out of hand, the local chief normally intervenes with his boys. This explains why folks from my tribe love engaging in acts of violence and also love partying like there is no tomorrow.

Let me not forget to mention that the family of the deceased normally gets to be given cows, sheep and goats if the sole bread winner was the person who succumbed. All the remaining animals and foodstuff that were not consumed also become the assets of the deceased’s family members.

While we may not have observed all the rituals during Uncle Barry’s funeral, we did give him a decent send-off. Though it was a short-lived affair as opposed to how it should have been in comparison to the past.

That is why I must conclude by paraphrasing a bible verse.

2nd Timothy 4:7, "You have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you have kept the faith.”

“God be with you till we meet again.” Uncle Barry.

Hasta La Vista, Baby.

[Picture Source: Pixabay.com]

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ARRESTED BY A LADY POLICE

Have you ever been caught by a lady police officer? Unawares. Driving on the right lane. Listening to music and jokes on radio and laughing like a hyena inside to those bland jokes by a sell by date radio presenter. That’s the time thoughts started accelerating in my head. Even though I knew I was on the right, my heart was hammering inside my chest like it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin.

I feigned composure though.

‘Unaenda na route gani?’ she asked. I don’t remember receiving any greetings from her.

“Langa’ta Road,” I replied.

“Nifikishe Bunyala Road.”

“Ingia twende.” I said then went mum.

She pulled the manual lock because I had rolled down the window due to the sweltering heat and entered inside. She looked motherly, removed her reflective jacket and I noticed the sillage. It was floral and nuanced of a finer approach. After sitting, we had a plausible awkward moment. I remembered I had discussed with someone that cops like freebies. Lifts are their weakness. This was the second time I was carrying one. The first was a young policeman who stopped me and as opposed to this lady, we had a lengthy chat. Usually, they are on their way to attend to duty.

Nairobi traffic jam. It was a gridlock on that day. Every car had turned off its engine, you could see matatu conductors wandering on the highway looking up and down for clues. My panya route turned out to be the longest route. I had used Kenyatta Avenue, then snaked effortlessly on Processional way to Haile Selassie from Uhuru Highway. I caught up with her just after switching lanes from Processional Way. Then I saw the cars I had left in the jam on Uhuru Highway getting preference over us. Ouch! Reminds me that I always have to exercise patience. However, this lack of patience had resulted in me giving a lift to a lady police. Is this not a worthy exercise?

I normally listen to Capital FM while alone. A habit I developed in campus because we thought it was cool. So the practice has stuck. The sassy diva was on air. Apparently, Koffi Olomide, ‘Mukulu Kulu’ is coming to town, tickets go for 2K. I was made to understand he has over 35 names. Pole Musa. I cannot afford to attend this concert. My uncles love such stuff, Rhumba. They hyped how they would attend Fally’s concert. Did they attend?

Sitting inside a car with a police is uncomfortable. Especially with the sweltering heat of Nairobi and am dark-skinned. That makes me look darker than usual. Compounded with sweat, I look scary. Just wondering how she resorted to ask me for a lift. Is it because I had not tinted the front windows? Do I look philanthropic? Or is it that I am homely and kind? Food for thought.

Inside I started being bombarded by many questions. How do I start a conversation? Why does she not take the initiative? She is a cop for Christ sake and should be able to take initiative. The insurgent cold almost resurfaced. Most guys I know are currently battling a cold. ‘Mapua karibu itoke makamasi.’  I had to look up and sniffle. To avoid eye contact, I decided to look outside. Imagining.

This were the imaginations. Why is that guy in a bespoke suit walking from work? Does he even know that I have no money on me yet am driving? Or did he pack in a shady place where he does not have to fork out parking fees? We surely needed to switch positions if he had no car. He is burly and am kind of skinny, I think this is a reversed role. Then I notice a dude who has a big derriere. They go like, ‘ashu mia, ashu mia’. This sounds gross, right. But he should have lent that lady in front of him with some. She looked like someone denied those assets which are hideous on men.

A voluptuous lady with yellow thighs passed by the kerb. She had a slit on her skirt that almost kissed the ass. And she had a fine ass. I wish I could go tell her ‘Kizuri chajiuza, Kibaya chajitembeza’. She probably caused men to have lascivious thoughts as she walked the aisles of the offices.

As a driver, you only imagine. Imagine a lot of things. You are also imagining what the cop is imagining. Let me not pen down those dirty thoughts. But cops know so many secrets. This one was a traffic police. She was well build, round faced and had a mellow voice. A phone call did break the virginity of silence.

‘Hallo.’

‘Sitafika mapema leo.’

‘Unataka nikulete nini?’

‘Sirudi town lakini.’

I could not hear what the other person what saying. But it did sound like a young’un. That was just an excerpt of the short conversation they had. I was not keen enough because I was driving. You know men cannot multitask.

She also talked with someone who sounded like her boss. The jam was on again. She kept referring to him as ‘Sir’. Her senior. Sign of respect, like we used to call all our male teachers ‘Sir’, in primary school. And that mentality has also stuck in me.

After the conversation, the jam started moving. I remember her telling him that she was taking to her what he had required of her. Then I realized that indeed, cops have sway on the Nairobi jam.

We had been in the jam for more than thirty minutes. But after the conversation was over, we started moving.

She said something but I still could not respond. I have some kind of introversive demeanor with strangers. Then there was news that there was a proposal to increase the age of judges to 74 from 70. She gave the example of Kubana. That they were going to age while in office. But judges are like wine. I corrected her that it was Kalpana Rawal, the deputy CJ.

We talked about how judges like privileges, and she talked about immunity and some other benefits I have forgotten.

I wanted to ask her how comes guys in big cars with normal number plates were overlapping and overtaking using the wrong lane while we were in the jam. Why did they let them do so? Were such guys more special than us in small cars that with three litres, you can drive to Nakuru and back? Could we also do that now that she was going to build the nation? She never looked like someone in a hurry.

On reaching Bunyala road, I almost hit a car by the side. ‘Umeingia vibaya,’ she told me.

One of the side mirrors is past its useful value. It serves no purpose other than it just being there. A grease monkey had told me it retails at 4K. I cannot afford that.

She did alight on the round-a-bout as I sped off.

I remember seeing a guy in a vitz looking at me. Maybe, he thought I was caught and the fact that the laws do not allow police inside commoner’s cars, it looked odd. But at such times, you need to kill your conscience. If you can kill your conscience and live your life, you will achieve great feats, someone told me.

PS: Someone pulled the charger from my pc while doing the original version of this post. It was over 800 words. I hate having a laptop in form of a desktop. That means I should buy a battery as soon as possible. That was more than two hours of time lost. I now wish all my content would be web linked so that nothing is ever lost.

Hasta La Vista Baby.

[Picture Source: Pixabay.com]

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