Gillman's point, Stella's point,....Uhuru!

This basically sums up my 2010. The three points on my trek to the roof of Africa, and what they represent through my struggle last year. I had the chance to make the climb up Kilimanjaro in December last year, choosing the easiest of the 6 roots aptly named Coca cola or Fanta route because of it's relative ease as contrasted by the Cognac or whiskey route that is supposed to be the toughest. Armed with the knowledge that I was physically unprepared for the excursion, I trusted my psychology to see me through. Having done several hikes before, I know that it is usually 75% psychology and 25% physical. The night before we left for Moshi, is when I was busy putting my stuff together...jacket-check, boots-..oooh crap ziko South-C, Sleeping bag - double crap..they're in Spring valley...what else did that list say?...oooh bother! Anyway I was busy running around Nairobi putting my ish together. I did not sleep, not until 2am. This basically explains my approach to life so far, random, unplanned and relying on the "government to plan that far ahead"....I really need some order in my life I think.

On to 17th when we were to depart for my 2010 crowning excursion. We were meant to meet at the rendezvous point at 7.30am...at least the one thing I pride myself is having a clock in my brain. If I hadn't had a detour and attempted to wait for someone, I would have been in at exactly 7.30am, but I barely made it at 7.45am as other travelers on our shuttle gave us the proverbial dagger eyes. We attempted to stall the bus driver for my pal Brayo who operates on GMT timing, but it was not to be..he would later find his way and us in Moshi that day.

Skipping the on-the-road happenings, which were whole new stories in themselves, we arrived at the "Gentleman's palace" in Marangu, near the gate to the Park, where we were to rest before setting off the following day on what brought us to the land of Mwalimu Nyerere.

Now Kilimanjaro is an interesting mountain. The Coca-cola route can be done by basically anyone...what i mean is that it is not a technical climb requiring ropes and those spiked boots we see rock-climbers using in the pictures. Good thing is some of the stuff can be hired at the gate. So there I was hiring them hiking sticks, and goggles (I forgot my shades, which are useful for the UV and reflection on the snow up there). We had 13 porters in our troupe of eight, including three guides.

We trudged along the trail up the mountain after some pep talk and paper work at the gate to get our permit........As the guides put it, "hamna haraka....tunaenda POLE,POLE!" Now that's what my lazy ass is talkin about. The pace was comfortably slow....that I could live with, not until one of the guides, Novatus (honest... that was his name) took us on a sprint up the hill when it started raining that day. The cabins at Mandara, Horombo and Kibo made for some fun camping-like atmosphere despite the below zero temperatures. Being out of shape, and ill-prepared for the climb brought its challenges....When summiting after day 3, I suffered what everyone is warned about and what I dreaded...altitude sickness. I was dizzy, nauseous and having a headache at the same time, and the thin air made breathing a task in itself. Like I said earlier, my take is that it is 75% mental and 25% physical, and this was one of the times I had to call on all my will to put my next foot forward, something I have learnt to do in life whenever faced with serious obstacles, expectations and mountains to climb. Granted I was the last one of our lot to make it to both Gilmann's and Uhuru, but I can say I made it to the roof of Africa. You get a certificate depending on which point you reached...Gilmann's point - 5685m, Stella's point, 5745m and Uhuru 5895m. Those 300m between Gilmann's and Uhuru are perhaps the most difficult things you will ever have to do....But you should try it!

Coming down was another issue in itself, what took others two and a half hours took me twice that time coz of my dizziness...I was snowed on on my way down and had no time to rest at camp as I found guys packed and ready to depart for the next cabins (Horombo, some 12km away). I got my scars from the mountain though (frostbites and fatigue that took me the Christmas period to shake off) and all I can say is it was worth it.

Next on my to do list.....deep sea diving! Let's see what that will be like.

For all those who made it to Uhuru, congrats, and for everyone else, that was fun!

Neighbourhood watch

It's been long since I went for those neighbourhood committee meetings that characterise most estates. I live in a pretty large one for normal standards, and in such numbers you find a healthy variety of characters, from the combatant and possessive guys who "own" certain parking slots, to the nonchalant "yes" men, even the odd graphic "tell it as it is" daktari.

Anyway just before the fist fights and the odd drunk guy who wanted to comment on everything, the agenda was set by the chairman (I swear it was the first time I was seeing the bloke!). Security, Committee fees (It can not dare miss!), the Audited accounts, and A.O.B (where all the drama unfolds)

Moving on swiftly to A.O.B, we had already discussed at length the security concerns, and how this being the countdown to the holidays the thugs are also ramping up their activity to have enough to celebrate with their loved ones, a concept pregnant with irony. People gave random ideas however impractical, after all it is an open and democratic forum....Hire more watchies (baton in a gunfight....hmmm! that will really help), have the watchie stopping ALL vehicles getting into the main gate (there was a learned friend who proposed stickers on resident vehicles who was shouted down coz of costs. Anywayin the end, no consensus, but a lot of arguments.

Coming to the contributions, committee fees, et al...The financials were read so fast and sketchily and a disclaimer of the accounts having been audited and are transparent thrown in for good measure ("Receipts = KShs X, We spent KShs Y, and we have 6,000 bob remaining...and we had this audited....").

Moving to the AOB, we had complaints of 15 year olds having closed school and should be monitored...(Damn it, are we the parents?....if the brat has hormonal imbalance, it will sort itself out), Someone threw garbage at his neighbour's doorstep..heh heh heh Now that was funny. Me being in the penthouse, there is only one culprit in such a case, so am safe. The victim at least saw the house-help responsible, picked up the garbage bag and dumped it right back at the front door of the aggressor (I would have emptied the contents as well!) There were those agitating for an estate bash, the teetotalers canvassing fro a tea party and the alcoholics wanting the option of coming with their own bottles/kegs/drums. No sooner had we started discussing this, some conservatives started invoking NEMA and how we should not go ahead with the bash, but instead get a permit from them for those of us intending to celebrate (That is when I knew you are only allowed to have a bash upto 11pm or else get a permit if you want to extend). Well somebody made an interesting observation..."Maybe he does not want to pay anything..amesota! Wacha wale wetu waliobarikiwa na pesa tujivinjari (which loosely translates to how broke the dude must be, he's just looking to hide behind excuses..Let those of us blessed with moolah to spend it however we please!)

As the entertainment progresses, mother nature intervened and dumped the cloud contents on us as we scampered for shelter. Another day maybe we'll get to finish what was started. An I Lied...there were no fist fights..yet!

Holidays

It's long since I had this switching-off mode and the laziness/laissez faire attitude that is attached to the days close to Christmas. Well, since 1999 when I finished skool, I have basically had exams in Dec up until last year when I did my last "work-study" exam in my ngumbaru years. So i have basically been stressed and running around like a headless chicken for the better part of this past decade.

Normally I dash out of the house in a huff at about 7am to join the Nairobi jam on Langata road on my way to the ofisi. Well normally I would give myself some 45-50 minutes to follow the traffic snarl-up as I listen to the retards on the morning shows on radio. Today almost everything was going wrong...I chucked late from the house (7.15am is late, in my books), the car decided to die (Bless you my unnamed neighbour hero for the jumpers ...you are a true godsend..al try look for you and buy you a cold one!). At least I got to meet my other fly neighbour and give her a lift (there is usually too much testosterone in my mobile...something for a change!). Anyway now to spoil my morning.... I knew it would take me at least one hour to get to the office. I had milked the "where I can drop you to find the quickest mat into town" vibe and "expertly" advised on the Kenya National Library stage in Community. Well I expected the queues to start along Langata road as we came down, but noooo...barabara alikuwa nyweeeee! Not even a 10 minute stop by the cops at the roundabout?...well onto Mbagathi we went, and same result. I was at the KNH roundabout in record time..15 minutes from home where I would have taken 50 minutes! Well as I dropped her and sped off in my mum's twin turbo charged monster, It did not hit me until I was in the office that SCHOOLS ARE CLOSED!

The roads will be clear for another one month as guys go on leave, no school buses on the road, people will start the urban rural migration and Bara-Coasto migration to go squander some cash in the name of Christmas. For now I will enjoy some lazy days as we go into the festive season, and since only the government plans that far ahead, wait and see how things will go from here.

Silence therapy

For some time now I have been operating like a zombie, taking each day as it comes oblivious of my sorroundings' going ons. I lacked direction, motivation or sense of purpose, basically a robot if I may call my state of being in this time. Plenty of things were happening around me, and my indifference was worrying some people close to me. I had a thousand and one "why" queries, no one to ask, or rather I kept them to myself. I know I am an introvert, so I let time deal with my problems.

Anyway if I appeared grumpy to you, annoyingly distant or just plain snobbish, just know I was trying to sit down and come to terms with my mental turmoil. Well it is that time of the year when everything is hurried so that guys meet their holiday deadlines and have a stress free Xmas. That's beside the point.

I have been struggling with some information similar in kind, but in two separate instances, that I stumbled upon. In each case, I have two people on either side of the issue. I am then placed between a rock and a hard place as the conflicting parties are what I consider people close to myself and each require me to side with them. If i keep quiet about it, I will get a shellacking, if I open my mouth on either side it does not bode well with either side. For once there is no fence to sit on, so you can imagine the mental drain as I try the thousand and one permutations in dealing with this. I know the therapy for this is usually speaking to someone about it, whether they give you any solutions or they don't...so long as it is out there, there is usually some relief from the mental burden.

This situation got me thinking either way, sometimes being diplomatic/ politically correct can leave you in a position that is pretty difficult. I value friends, and I usually don't have a particular ranking for them, but when there is a fallout and am thrust to the fore to side with one of them,...my natural instinct is to run away from both, and if I bump into either of them...smile and wave..... Coward?...maybe, but alive as they say we live longer.

El Klassiko part 2

In what was characterised more by the off-field tragedy than the on-field goings-on, Saturday's second meeting between the former Kenyan soccer heavyweights (K'ogalo and Ingwe..aka Gor Mahia and AFC Leopards), left some of us not "feeling" the atmosphere that the match is usually characterised by. Well for the umpteenth time, the queue management was bogus and the enraged fans brought down gate 2 as people were trampled in the ensuing stampede that left 7 dead. the ambulance, police and first aiders reaction was pathetic to be modest with my words. The needless loss of lives for a hundred bob is so annoying.

Well, as the fat cats in the football administrators' fraternity sat on their oversized backsides, and continue with their despicable wrangling for power (while siphoning funds if I may add), innocent people were trampled on.

Anyway away from my anger and onto more serious technology stuff....Mr. Blackberry really did us proud and we got revenge on the dotted cats from mulembe....The medicineman skinned the cat.

The one thing i take away from that game though, was the concern people had for me. My high skool pal (name withheld lest I spoil his plans) once told me, the one test he would use to see if a chick/gal/woman genuinely loved and valued him was to go on a hike, to say Longonot, and when they reach some difficult section, he would fall pretend to have strained his ankle and therefore be "incapable of trekking further". If she left him for dead, so would he. Well I got to know which people really know what I do and like and therefore show concern fro my well-being. you know yourselves, thanks for the genuine calls of concern, and I love you all too.

Deaf and really dumb!

September is almost up and I think I had not written anything the entire month. The therapy I get from just typing my thoughts helps me maintain sanity in my hectic schedule.

Well I was lucky to get onto that Airbus A380 from Dubai to Paris for another week in the city of romance (or so they say), and at least this time round I also got to walk around the unspoken of part of the city that you never see in those travel brochures or hear about. But I like reality and i enjoyed my visit to the other side of Paris. (Thanks to an old friend....)

So after a grueling week of torturous training from dawn (the sun rises at 8.30am or thereabouts..so 6am and 7am is dark!) to dusk (then the sun stays up until about 9.30am..honestly I could go mad in this day-night pattern!), I hooked up with my pal at Charles de Gaul something something station where the tours start. i was being educated on the Parisian transport system. You have the TGV - aka bullet train for long distance travel, the RER - medium distance (ok am exaggerating) travel to the suburbs of Paris and the Metro which runs around the Parisian city. My tour would entail multiple use of the Metro of which I had no ticket..that's a story for another day.

Anyway. I started off at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart (Basilique du Sacré-Cœur). We climbed up a steep street to the highest point on Paris (I think) and the view was the greatest!...On the way up however, we went past the hasslers of Paris with their pata potea games going on in earnest..and they played for 50 Euros (saw some dumb kid getting swindled and almost crying). On our way down, they even pulled the kanjo in a d area stunts hawkers pull in Nai where they kick there cardboard box tables and scatter as the cops arrive.

We also met up with some "deaf and dumb" kids. The buggers created those forms for sponsor that we used to be swung in Primo to collect cash for walks etc, and then the first two names would be for some anonymous fellas who had "donated" 10Euros or 20Euros (very cheeky) The forms had two headings in French explaining what the collections were for (some Deaf and Dumb society for kids in Paris). As the kid approached me, he gestured at his ears trying to indicate how deaf he was. I spoke to him in English telling him I could not read French, and he quickly pointed to the section printed in English....Ni vizuri nilienda skuli bana. Scammers are everywhere! On my way down from the Basilica, the colleagues approached me again, and the "deaf" kid who had approached me in the first place told them to back off because i did not speak any French (He actually spoke to them in the most fluent English I had heard in Paris that week...he should even have been better off teaching English to some French brats)...then he cheekily stuck out his tongue at me!

Maybe al reserve my other French tales for another day.

August woes and my new resolutionz

August as one of my friends would say is one disaster of a month. Nothing good ever comes of it. Looking back into past years, his theory may well hold some water....The August 8th debacle by Osama, the August 12th house (parliament), most people I lost somehow expired in August, and the Sudanese prezzo visited Kenya in August. I missed my promulgation holiday in August, just to name a few.

Anyway I have had a torrid end to that month, topped by some nasty flu bug that has been doing the rounds in the office this recent past. Now I pride my immune system for rubbishing some of these infections and going makmende whenever some cold threatens to cut me down to size. Well I think my immune system was getting too corky. Enter Super Flu X4BG79$#..something ..something virus! Needless to say I had been a cabbage...congested throat, fever, wobbly knees, stress at jobo, you name it!

Well as I crawled through the month, coughing and spitting my lungz out, I thought to myself...I was never this sickly when I was a sporty character and I used to run around religiously. When I went to the hospitali, and in the process of checking my weight, pressure and temperature, the dial on the weighing machine groaned as it swung to regions on the scale it last reached when it was undergoing quality tests. Then came one of my many resolutions for the month of September....al reduce my kilos, and keep a fitter regime. I have enrolled for the "roof of Africa" climb in December, to that effect.

So the fitter me will be seen in a place near you soon.

Blackberrryyyy!!!!

Wednesday 2pm...I was bored senseless with a nagging report I was trying to get rid of from my desk and a not so good looking outlook into my evening. Then I get a call from my small bro (been asked why I call him Wacko Jacko...I really don't know..the name stuck!)..Anyhow he asks "Kwani today you aint popping for the K'ogalo game?" I am a Gor ultra (violently fanatic supporters associated with the Juve club of Turin) and i did not need a second asking...."Nunulia mimi tikiti bwana!", I told Wacko. My plan was to go home , change into my green K'ogalo jersey and dash for the floodlit match in Nyayo stadium. I estimated leaving the office at 6pm would afford me sufficient time to speed up Langata road and back....As usual , whenever I make such plans, traffic makes its own plans...to cut the long story short, I found myself heading into the stadi win my suit (ok, I chucked the coat and tie to blend in.

I found Wacko waiting for me. He had bought me and my cousin (Mr.Sio) tickets to the main stand. This time round unlike the Ingwe match, there were no hitches checking into the stadi. The main stand as usual was packed to the rafters, with the K'ogalo faithful breaking into chants and their usual anthem..K'ogalooo...Goooor..Gor Mahia..K'ogalo eeeh, Gor timbe duto yuakni!.. which translates loosely to Son of Ogalo..Gor Mahia..all teams cry for you! The Liverpool legend Ian Rush was in attendance, and we was in for a PARTY!

As usual Jalas, the radio presenter was in his element conducting the choir of ultraz as they set the stands ablaze with their chants. Gor did not disappoint and dominated the soldiers as they made them chase shadows all over the pitch. The soldiers (as is expected of one) had a solid defence (not too solid though) and midway through the first half, Gor had scored , rattled the crossbar and had been caught offside a trailer-load of times.

Second half had its own drama. After the halftime entertainment from the chanting k'ogalo fans, Gor had a player sent off and the coach sent to the stands (he had strayed from his technical area to be honest and was protesting too much to the ref)..This had the K'ogalo fans baying for the ref's blood as some started hurling missiles into the pitch! Game was temporarily stopped as the ref gathered "evidence" and the linesman got hit by something flung from the terraces. Somehow play resumed, and ten man Gor managed to get the soldiers on the counter with Blackberry waltzing through almost five men including the goalie and slotting a second to send the crowd into a maaad frenzy! At this point, the ref was forgiven (I think)

Well Gor closes the gap on the top of the table now, Can't wait for the next one!

Gor biro..yawne yoo!....Gor biro..yawne yoo!

Random stuff

"I'm going to graduate on time, no matter how long it takes."..This is an actual quote from a basketball player in some Uni team. I wonder how he managed to get into Uni in the first place, but I need not point out the obvious in this case.

Have you ever sat and wondered what mechanism some people's brains engage before they speak or even do something. Well, I guess I suffer from the "look before you leap" syndrome which though a good trait, holds you back from plenty of experiences. It is usually painful, especially if you lack patience, to sit and listen to people who think they know it all make a mess of things and you can't do anything about it, moreso if it is your boss or a guy bigger than you who wouldn't mind showing you how brawn beats brain...literally.

It reminds me of when I weighed 30 or so kgs and was at the receiving end of some terrifying primary school bullies. I was four feet nothing, but extremely satirical getting away with subtle smart-ass statements at those I could not match in biscep size. Anyway..I dare them now to flex their bisceps and issue those threats of theirs.... niwatandike kama nyoka! While they exercised their bisceps, I exercised the muscle between my ears, becoming a smarty pants whose homework got copied by the bullies (protection money is not only a mafia concept you know!) Not that I completed my homework all the time. Reminds me one time when I hadn't done my homework and some dudes wanted my books to dub. I couldn't concentrate on my work with them hovering over my head and snatching my book every now and then, so I told everyone I wasn't going to do it ..tuchapwe sisi wote na mwalimu leo..Anyway, with ten minutes to the bell ringing for parade and onto the first lesson (when homework was checked and punishment dished out in generous proportions), I did the last ten sums which was enough to fill about three pages. The trick was do the first ten sums, skip s few blank pages, do the last ten sums and be very nifty when the teacher comes to check your work. You point to the text book where the first sums are visible, then you flip the pages expertly to the final pages pointing to where you have completed. I was a teachers' pet, so there was some level of trust (ok maybe it was because they never saw the point punishing me for stuff I already knew anyway..but do I say!) So everyone knew we were all going to get the beat today, well as it turned out, the teacher would come check your book and anyone whose work appeared incomplete would remain standing at his desk. After going through all our books, It was Eric and the girls who remained seated (someone tell me why only chicks in Primo always completed their homework all the time!) Anyway I got very angry eyes thrown my way (if it were a solid, you would cut right through it!) While the teacher was going round after falling for my tricks, I would fill in the gaps in the interim. For about twenty minutes, she went around dishing on the spot justice. Good thing is boys never snitch no matter the circumstances, so I would get away with it, and hide in the toilets over break time to avoid the hunt that was on for me for not aiding the first bodie with his homework. The funniest thing would be when I was asked to come to the board and show others how I did a particular sum (which I had not done in the first place). I would carry my exercise book to the board, open some random page and pretend to be copying the contents onto the board, in the meantime, I worked out the some from scratch..and that's how dishonesty got my brain thinking at such ridiculous speeds.

Anyway, this was a work of fiction....I never did my homework, I was never bullied in Primary skool ( i was actually the bully) and i got beaten like a snake by teachers more often than I can remember...but the homework thing was true..worked every time like a charm! Was just thinking..what if I did this at that time.

Internal combustion madness!

The madness that is driving in Nairobi has gotten most of us behaving like thugs and adapting to it. I doubt anyone remembers the days when you were squashed in that driver's seat with an instructor on the passenger seat shouting "kanyaga mafuta...usiachilie kiratchi namumna hiyo!". More often than not you would get bullied by other drivers in traffic when they spotted the red "L" stuck on the car windows. Man,..life was hell. Then the sweating and trembling when doing that driving test. Anyways, after a few weeks of driving you become a makmende, climbing kerbs, cutting lanes without indicating, ..the works!

Matatus, and the worst of them being the Hoppers, have this habit of bullying people off the road, scratching your paintwork, denting your bumpers, etc. So guys are scared of them. On Sunday I was very proud of myself the way I dealt with one ruffian (learnt that from my boss who has a car with like thirty dents...each with it's own story - I collect stamps,... he collects dents). Lights are red, and we all stop. Well...not all of us. The mat@2 jumps onto the kerb and tries to squeeze to the front of the queue (where I was) and jump the lights. I made sure there was hardly any space for him to squeeze through, and the bugger starts hooting. Well, I ignored him, after flipping him the bird. The guy was outraged and when the light were just turning tried to accelerate and push me off the road...Thanks to my Need for Speed skills on the playstation, I evaded the dude as he almost dislodged my side-mirror. "Hasira, hasara!"..Road rage aint a good thing, and the mat@2 met another idiot jumping lights on the other side and bazinga! collision right tharr. I braked, smiled at the frustrated conductor who had now alighted as the cops strolled towards them. Not wanting to be involved in witness statements, I slowly pulled away from the spot, very happy with the outcome. I am no masochist, but it did serve them right.

Somebody (like an old neighbour I used to have) should work with a horsewhip, to teach those guys on-the-spot for basic traffic transgressions. Fines don't work that good. Maybe flogging for traffic offences will reduce the madness.

As I walked down the road at set of sun...

The rest of that song goes like.." the lambs were coming homeward one by one!". Reminds me of my rabble days in High skool, when we used to go through the rigours of compulsory choir practice. this particular piece was a Christmas carol. Anyway got me to appreciate music in all its forms (except lingala). Back to my yule-tide melody (ok Christmas...don't split hairs on this one). There is an element of closure, end of the day, close of a chapter and the birth of Christ in the song, we have some new beginning. Moved house the other day, which usually comes with several adjustments to adapt to the new surroundings. I have lovely neighbours by the way, and still border the Shire of Kibira!

I have made some resolutions (8 months too late), and I aim to stick with them in this spirit of renewal. Of new beginnings, I was slapping myself into reality the other day, reflecting on how short life is. In the space of a week, I had lost both a cousin, and a grandfather. A real sad turn of events. Well death does not discriminate, and we will all fall victims at our appointed time.Me and my procrastinating self got me thinking, ...anything can happen at anytime and the things I have been postponing may never be accomplished. I have several "vision 2015s and 2020s", and time is flying by. Hopefully without chewing more than I can swallow, I will start ticking off my "to-do" list.

Hopefully al get my act together and stick to my schedule. If you want to know more "nipate kando nikupashe uhondo!"

Missionary, mercenary or misfit?

Heard this funny tale today about how guys in Europe were viewed whenever they decided on a career change to move to Africa. Anyone who was coming down to Africa was either a missionary, mercenary or a misfit. My atheist friends would tell of how the European came to Africa initially with a bible...we had the land, and when he said let us close our eyes and pray, when we opened them, we were holding the bible and they had the land.

My favourite topic well..perspectives. What do you think you are doing when deciding on a path to follow. We sometimes make radical decisions and delve into the unknown, and it is fortitude and being firm and steadfast in sticking to your decisions that ultimately makes the difference. As they say, nothing comes easy. the harder it is, the sweeter the rest at the end. This does not mean you suffer blindly in the name of "stickability", a term coined by one famous Griffin in one of his career talks back in the day. If HE is beating you day in day out, abusing you and giving you a few (ok maybe a lot of) broken limbs, give up and look for something better. Perseverance is good, but it also has its limits. If that piece of work is making you mentally unstable from the stress...is it really worth it. Maybe you have a plan, that may excuse the "stickability" element, but weigh and think through what's best for you in the long run.

Don't ask me why I don't follow my own advice...well mganga hajigangi and there has to be someone who acts as an example, good or bad.

So do you think I am a missionary, mercenary or a misfit?..niambie nisikie

Be grateful for what you have and careful what you wish for

I have had a week of leave (very rare where I come from) and though it turned out to be about half that time, I got to reflect on my own life. Prayed about it too (I know this sounds funny, but yes, I do pray to be grateful for all the happenings in my life and my family's as well as asking for direction from our Father...Whoever knows me really well knows what I am talkin' about). As I looked back at my life, a few things were thrust to the fore that appear to replicate each other in their timing and what they mean.

Back in '98, I think I was the last fella to be made SHP (I wont elaborate on the initials..a bit embarrasing) Others had already gone through the trainings and had a helping hand in running their respective areas of concern. me on the other hand, my guide as it were was non existent, and I had 80 odd heads to look after. This was learning the hard way, with no proper guidance and seeing that I was to be "Father of the Mother house" on an anniversary year, the pressures were extreme. I had no choice...couldn't run away from responsibility and had to toughen up. Bottom line, I survived '99 and lived to tell the tale.

Fast forward 2009...ok rolling into 2010. Very difficult life in a decimated department which meant an almost vertical learning curve (dy/dx tending to one for the Engineers). Then we got propelled at breakneck speeds to levels of responsibility that I for one to be honest was not prepared for. So as I sat discussing this with some very close friend of mine (anajijua) I explained how I found my situation unlucky whereas others thought I had a silver spoon. In a way that person maybe right, but there is another side to the coin, which will take some one and a half or two years for me to come to terms with. I appreciate the challenges I get thrown at and the blessings (though it takes time to identify them as such and appreciate them for what they are)

As they say life aint easy, but al eat it with a BIG spoon and take time to reflect on it.

The English lingua franca

Being a great fun of the English language and it's oddities...playing around with words (It's really punny!)..Came across this poem I decided to plagiarise and tickle my fancy.

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough.
Others may stumble, but not you, On
Hiccough, thorough, laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard; a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead;
For goodness sake don't call it deed.
Watch out for meat and great and threat.
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.)

A moth is not a moth in mother; nor both in bother, broth in brother;
And here is not a match for there,nor dear and fear for bear and pear.
And then there's dose and rose and lose
(just look them up) and goose and choose,
And cork and work, and card and ward,
And font and front, and work and sword,
And do and go, and thwart and cart.
Come, come! I've hardly made a start.

A dreadful language? Man alive! I mastered it when I was five!
I will teach you in my verse
Words like corps, corks, horse and worse.
For this phonetic labyrinth
Yields monkey, donkey, ninth and plinth,
Wounded, rounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dies and diet, lord and word;
Earth and hearth and clerk and herd;
Evil, devil, tomb, bomb, comb;
Doll, roll; dull, bull; some and home.
Finally - for I've had enough -
Through, though, thorough, plough, cough, tough,
While hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advise is give it up.

Meg Schell

Oh Fortuna!

I know I often get lambasted for my love of classical works, and one of my favourite classical pieces is "Oh Fortuna" by the German composer Carl Orff, which is often mis-attributed (if ever there was such a word in existence) to Mozart. I just love the way the composer makes use of the variation of volume to get the emotions into the song. it is often used in countless movies, commercials, etc to depict some calamity, impending catastrophe and all the scary stuff you can think of, which got me thinking. You probably have heard this song a million times, but it never registers on your mind. It topped the list of the most played classical music piece in the UK in the last 75 years. Listen to classical..it is good for your brain I hear.

I had a friend who when listening to a music piece would isolate individual musical instruments and analyse the performance of the instrumentalists on that song (the lead guitar in "Hotel California", the drums in "Je Suis un rockstar" (I am sure only me and my boss know this song heh heh heh!).

The composition of any great piece takes the effort of several minor but often ignored components, so don't assume your contribution is negligible in whatever role you are asked to play. Be it work, social activity or random chores, you may think what you do goes unnoticed, but when you don't do it, is when you and others discover just how significant that "little" effort is. You can be replaced yes, but your contribution has value.

You didn't know that now ..did you?

Ever wondered why you do some things?...Well I remember once when I was still a brat (7 year old me thinks). Back then we would like a ritual travel upcountry in Dec to see the grandfolks. This involved over 800km travelling from Mombasa where I lived at the time to good old Kendu Bay. One of the things I feared in "ocha" was the propensity of getting the odd thorn finding its way on the soles of my feet (I used to get the beat for discarding my shoes/slippers and walking barefoot every now and then...a brat I was!) So I got this ingenious idea to clear my routes off any thorns if i found any. As I was going on with my charitable activity, my grandfather (may his soul rest in eternal peace) caught up with me and severely scolded me. It is taboo I was told to clear the path of any thorns i was told. Several years on, i came to understand the reasoning behind this. When i was old enough to understand that i had to wear shoes/slippers at all times , my grandpa explained to me that removing thorns from the paths would make people less careful in watching where they are stepping. The thorns forced them to be vigilant and more careful. He had also explained to me the reason why my forefathers had their front teeth knocked off to reveal a gap. Well for those conversant with Luoland, snakes are quite the trailerload, and most of the venomous snakes would affect the nervous system and cause your teeth to clamp. The only way of administering the remedies and anti-venoms they had was to pour the medicine through the gap when the jaws were clenched shut.

So the next time you ridicule some of those taboos of yours without getting the thinking behind them, think twice. Your ancestors had a twisted sense of humour in their wisdom.

Damned if you do damned if you don't

It is interesting and you may say irritating at times trying to pick people's brains to know what they want. (GALZ mostly fall into this category and a few GAL-like brothaz). They tell you they don't want a dude who works too much and never hangs out with them , and then again complain about the brother who hangs out with them and never "hangs out" at his jobo to make the money to spend on her.When you take her to Carni for dinner, she becomes vegetarian, and when you take her out to a nice Indian restaurant, she complains she'll get gas (All these are hypothetical...just waiting to be shot by some angry sistah after I am done with this!).

Anywho, this reminds me of one gentleman i used to work with a few harvests ago. Name withheld for various reasons. So we go with the brother to a restaurant together with my two other colleagues. This was in Embu at some infamous establishment (name withheld also because of fear of post publication violence) but if you happen to be in the capital of Eastern province, there happens to be about one hotel you can stay in on official company bizness! Anyways, the brother is from the copper mines of Kitwe somewhere south of the continent, and he does not know what food is safe to order where. My rule of thumb...only order white meat where you are sure the stock is cleared within a day of it being purchased by the vendor. Knowing that ma brodaz from Embu are not fans of fish...you'll catch me dead ordering it from a joint here. So we all place our orders, and our Southern brother barks his.."i want rice and this fish you have shown here. The rice should be well done but not left in the fire for too long, my tomatoes should be chopped like this..yaddi yaddah yaddah...."

I was thinking to myself the entire time...this guy can only do well with a buffet...too choosy! Anyway, after sufficiently confusing the waiter, we wait for our meals. And when they were finally served..my goodness. The dude took a bite of the fish, tasted the rice and almost broke into a war song..."Waiter..what is this you have served?...when I said the rice shouldn't be left in the fire for too long, i did not mean it should be raw..and what's with the fish...Come her and taste it and tell me..come!

The waiter tasted the fish and in one of the funniest responses I have ever heard he went..."mmmh..yummy!"..My goodness..the Southerner was enraged, you could almost see and touch his anger..."What do you mean mmmmh!"..All this time I was enjoying my food and almost choking as I tried to suppress my laughter with the comedy that was playing itself out. The Southerner mumbled some incoherent words, ate about half his food (how I don't know) and walked off in protest refusing to pay the bill for his food as he went to his room (getting the room was also another comedy for some other time)

In summary,we were forced to pay for the boss's dinner (pesa ya kampuni anyways) and duck the embarrassing stares from the other diners.

So if you don't like it, go to a buffet and choose what suits you and stop complaining about what others offer you. Then it will be your choice and you'd have to live with it..(you should see how my Southern friend behaves in a buffet...even there he has issues)

Long holiday weekends

Well Labour day this year was a bummer...A public holiday on a Saturday...what a waste of a free day. Only my employer was smiling this time....he doesn't have to pay me for doing nothing, but 1 June fell on a somewhat semi-ideal day this year..Tuesday. No wonder everyone is booking leave on 31 May, which happens to be a Monday. Guys had started switching off on Friday morning as they anticipated 4 days of doing absolutely nothing, which reminded me of my doctor pals...I sometimes feel for them, 5 years of hard labour in med skool, another harsh 1 year as an intern and then more years of keeping the hippocratic (I hope this is the correct spelling) oath, ready to work on any day. There is no difference between a Monday and a Sunday, after all you never choose when to fall ill or have some freak accident. In the same category fall the police and that waiter at the hotel.

So the next time you are looking forward to a loooong weekend and complaining when someone interrupts your weekend, think of the other fellas who have to continue toiling like any other day just to make your free time bearable.

Still waters

You have this 2 litre twin turbo powered behemoth that sounds like a jet engine when it takes off, and as you weave through traffic, some guy just passes you like you were motionless..and he is as silent as the stealth bomber. Anyway at least you showed that sandak what El Legacy can do. Moral of the story?....well there are no morals when it comes to breaking speed rules. You think you have the fastest car, the biggest brain, the brightest idea, the prettiest wife at home...well reality is there is a high probability there is someone out there with a marginally faster car, way smarter than you and with a chick hotter than Angelina Jolie waiting for him at home.

This reminds me of a time I was sent by my mum to the bank to deposit some cheques for her. This is back in 2000, when I was the KYM in the diggz...I ran all the errands and was getting some practical real world exposure albeit being perennially broke. So I line up in some long queue behind this smartly dressed Asian fella. He looked pleased with himself, holding an envelope (A4 size) which he proceeded to display the contents at a time when he was about 5 people from the counter. The guy had in my estimate about 1.5m in cash, and he wanted everyone to know it. me and my measly cheques (amounts withheld) coiled behind him in embarrasment giving him a wide berth asiniaibishe saaana! Well on the adjacent queue was another brother from the Indian sub-continent, very shabbily dressed, with some dirty jeans and a large black leather jacket, holding those green paperbags with calenders printed on the side. He looked nonchalant and unconcerned with the dude displaying his mullah for all and sundry to see. As fate would have it, he reached the counter before Mr. Show-off and I immediately saw the tellers face light up in recognition..."why aren't you using the bulk teller?" the teller asked, and as I turned to check the bulk teller, it was occupied and seemed our 20-man queue would be done before the guy in there was done with his business. Then Mr.Dirty-jeans opened his jwala bag and poured bundle after bundle of used notes. He looked at the fella in front of me and smiled. While the note-counter worked overtime counting the money that was being banked by Mr.Dirty-jeans, he proceeded to open his jacket and more bundles fell out..he had strapped more notes on his upper body,and he proceeded to pull his trouser-legs unstrapping more cash held by rubber bands on his shins....he then took out his wallet, fished some notes from what he was handing in and put in his wallet (pocket change I guess). I was smiling almost bursting into laughter as the guy ahead of me in the queue (Mr.Show-off) was looking for a rock to hide under. Well me and the others on the queue beamed with our puny deposits as humble pie was served hot off the oven.

Note to self (and other interested parties)..Be humble in whatever you do or say, egg on face has a nasty feel to it.

The Arsenal effect

So there I was all prepped up, negotiated the heavy traffic on Mbagathi and used some panya routes and found myself in Nairobi West. I parked in the estate there, as Ingwe K'ogalo matches are unpredictable. All traffic , foot or otherwise was headed for the showpiece. The lines to the ticketing booths snaked around the parking area, as hooligans cut queues to get the ticket to the Stadium. I had requested my younger bro (Jascon) to get me a ticket to the terraces and it took the better part of an hour getting it. Funny thing is somehow the gate to the stadium was breached and fans streamed in(most had not paid).

We took the chance to buy our tickets as people abandoned the ticket booths for a piece of free entrance. by now the game had started and it was almost ten minutes into the game. We bought our tickets (That's what these clubs survive on as revenue) and as we were headed to the now open gate, security came in to stop the flow of non-paying fans.."Wewe hapana ingia kama wewe hakuna risit..." shouted the burly bouncer as he blocked the entrance with a club on one hand and fumes of some cocktail of illicit brews spewing from his breath. Luckily i had my risit and so I got in. The atmosphere was to die for....floodies, hooligans, and chanting all around. I sat in what appeared to be an isolated spot.....bad idea. This is where the users of the 'oly 'erb went about there puff puff pass business the entire 90 minutes.

On to the pitch K'ogalo were playing some lovely soccer, and the two forwards, Kevo and Blackberry (I just love that name!) contrived to miss a sackful of chances. Again and again they got themselves clear on goal only for them to try to pass it into the net...Arsenal style!...Ingwe got the one chance and duly punished K'ogalo. Honourable mention to the outstanding fella between the sticks, Webo. The keeper was on some of the 'oly 'erb that was hanging abouts where we was seated.

The half time antics of the fans were hilarious as they trooped armed with flares singing around the stadi. One disappointment was the lousy chants of the Ingwe...AFC, AFC, AFC!!!...so flat! One thing you'll give the K'ogalo khooliganski, they can get behind their team. They also have their anthem and numerous chants.

Other than an incidence where the linesman was pelted with empty plastic bottles by the ingwe fans for raising the offside flag, the game was uneventful and the fans were well behaved at the end of the game streaming out orderly (as far as the ones going in the direction of Langata and the shire of Kibira were concerned.

Lookin forward to the next round of El Klasiko when K'ogalo will be the home team. sisi atakutana tena na sis atafundisa nyinyi opira!

El Klassiko

The first meeting of the DSTV era of the KPL between former giants Gor Mahia(aka K'ogalo) and AFC Leopards (aka Ingwe) is up in one of the most anticipated clashes in years. Emotions are running high as the two most vocally supported clubs in Kenya lock horns in the mid-week encounter which have been branded "Floodies" by the football junkies who occasion the midweek games.

The game is gaining root and more local supporters are turning up donning their favourite teams' colours which sell alongside the more illustrious European (mostly English PL sides). I am a Gor fan ("Gor pinje duto ywagi!....."). and my hooligan pals cant contain themselves. The match used to be underlined by passionate support, hard tackling and the occasional missile throwing celebrations at the end of the match. This being the first in a long time, ...we sall sually sow the abandu mach!

See you pitch side!

A journey of a thousand words

On learning that there are 300 million bloggers on the web, here comes blogger number 300,000,001. And bereft of anything great to say, thought I'd share some interesting observations I have made in the past few hours or so I have been pretending to work.

Everyone currently is jumping onto the bandwagon of drumming up support for or against the draft constitution and unfortunately most of us are ignorant of what has been prepared for us to vote or veto (neat switchin of the letters there!)...We have exhausted the time we had been given to debate the document and granted most of us contributed zilch to the document, but it offers us a rare opportunity to right a few wrongs that the old constitution could not address. My view is we will NEVER have a perfect document and we will NEVER please everyone. We have wasted plenty of resources and dragged for ages coming up with the draft as it is. now because some people who raise issues that either don't relate to them (men ..read priests et al commenting on abortion and we complaining about Kadhi's courts that only address civil cases between two consenting muslims). I think it is a bit trivial the reasoning given for rejecting 97% of a good document just because 3% does not suit you. The muslims are not complaining of the rest of the constitution that draws primarily from English Common Law that to the best of my knowledge was crafted from Anglican (read Christian) doctrine. The other politicians are voicing their disagreements especially because of Land issues which affects them mostly and the ill manner in which they obtained it, as well as maintaining the ridiculous influence the politicians have in controlling almost everything in running our country. Let MPs stick to legislation, we get professionals in cabinet as proposed to run the government and for once have a functional and meaningful lean cabinet. Women in my opinion and minorities have been given the best chance they will ever get at narrowing the divide in parliamentary representation, and the less said about dual citizenship and what Kenya has missed out on..the better

Let's give the document a chance