My Family has grown

Stone throwing has always been an art, its best learnt while still at a tender age for you never know when some political rally operatives will require your services



Where has the ball flown to??














New year new order

Its the beginning of another year again, and the year is 2016, if I were Chinese I would relate the year with some animal. well its that time when majority of us make resolutions that we will never implement, but the good thing about resolutions is that they act as part of our dreams - the person that you want to be, that person whom you strangely never becomes.  as my generation become older so does we seek that wisdom that they say come with age, but still you feel stupid in your actions while you expected to mature with age like wine, you still act the child you were when around childhood friends, you still fart freely when hanging around your close associates, still don't know what a five course meal is, still leave the toilet seat down much to the usual anger of your partner!

As you  age so is the number of your friends, the list keeps on shrinking, its the time you realize their is true friendship and just friendship, you now tend to lean more on your family if at all you are married that is, you are a confidant of a few clique of people and the most exciting thing about getting into the middle age is, you stop caring about other peoples attitude about you! so you have a fetish for shoes, more shoes; so what?

The end of the year bring some of us closer to God too, we simply want to spend the last hours of the old year in church while ushering in the new baby - new year. you have heard of the same sermon before; ''think of the less fortunate'', you know it. you've heard about it multiple of times but since you are now getting wiser you simply ask yourself, how many times has the pastor hosted the less fortunate in his house for a feast of merry making during the festive season? its hypocritical but since you are a peace loving church member, your mouth is burning with the desire to ask the pastor that question but you simply cant find the strength to raise up your hand for attention - your are helpless full of lack of will.

The realization that life is finite hits you hard whenever you hear the fireworks ushering in the new year, as some of my friends would attest, you are mostly attending funerals rather than weddings since the latter was celebrated many years down the line. children are getting older, and that son whom you adored as a baby is of late curiously becoming a handful, he has a mind of his own and strangely you cant help feeling he's the little you, and you are as well reliving your parents on the same path they walked before.

Well its the year 2016 and for me its same script different cast, there goes my resolution.

Expatriate Life

Its now over four years since i ventured out of my country to work in a foreign land as an expatriate. i must say that i have experienced both the downs and the lows of being an expatriate. for starters the food!! Good lord, the food tastes different, the food is not as fresh as the ones i  was used to in Kenya, i have even learnt to buy frozen foods which before was alien to me.

I have come across a culture and cultures, indeed Seychelles is a melting pot of cultures  at times i assume all nationalities are present here either physically or by their protege's, for its difficult nay impossible to find a Seychellois who is pure descendant of the original slaves. atleast a good percentage of Seychellois are of mixed heritage thus the culture in the country has oriental, western, eastern and even southern mix.

Life as an expatriate is also hardwork, the realisation that you are nolonger within your ''people''  is overwhelming, expectations among locals in your new home are high - you become a saviour of sorts. during my first few days i really missed Kenya and indeed home like i had never felt before, i was homesick, i had no direction, i was sad, bored and sick!

Life in a foreign country also makes one realise that even though we may have different skin colors; our expectations, experiences and dreams still remain the same. thus a malagasy will yearn for a better life just like a French would even though the former comes from a poor country compared to the latter.

Life abroad also changes ones view of the world, some things i used to think were exclusive to Kenyans and Kenya only are indeed worldwide case in point are the politicians! my friends from India, Thailand and South Africa share their thoughts about their respective Politicians and i cant help but wonder if they are all cut from the same cloth! lies, lies and lording over the electorate.

Its also by standing from a different geographical location from your country of birth that you get to know what other nationalities think about it. While others think Kenya is an advanced country, others also think or rather believe its a country full of war, famine, starvation, and crime. matters are further worsened by the fact that international media tend to focus more on negative news from Kenya and Nigeria. indeed most foreigners know more alot about these two African countries than the others. its not strange to find a Seychellois who does not know the location of Uganda but know more about Kenya yet these are neighbors.

Racism is real and still a huge problem, some people will think and still think they are more human than others, more superior and intelligent than an african, yet i have seen and known a white woman in her late 30s who has no idea how computers operate, she even had no idea how USBs interact with a computer.

Working away from home also changes perception about the friends and others left behind, whenever i return to Kenya, my friends tend to think am well off than them, some even say congratulations when i tell them that i now work overseas (i wonder what the congratulations are for). life is hard overseas, cost of living is high and as an expatriate the locals also expect you to be at a different level socially further compounding your problems.

I have indeed come to realize that human are all the same, that we are all common, we have the same ideals even though some of us think otherwise, we share same grief when sad, we all want to belong, we all want to be loved and wanted - this is so universal whether black or white.

I have learnt to live at peace with my expatriate life, i now long to travel more, meet more people and share experiences and diversity but most importatntly i have never forgotten my country Kenya, i find it easy to Blend, enjoy our noisy public transport and the scenery out in the countryside moreover i have never lost the taste of our fresh food. i have come to realise that indeed we think our food is inferior, rain fed, no fertilizers no modern methods to improve output but strangely that's our greatest asset because the advent of GMO has immensly contributed to the advent and spread of strange and unheard of diseases in the world today.

i would not want to change a thing about the way my mom grows her corn or vegetables, let it look inferior to a westerner but i can attest to this, for all the time they have lived, am yet to experience them having major medical issues that are caused by change in lifestyle.

There is currently a rush for the african traditional hut, a rush for the african beef, a rush for the african agriculture, whereas we used to think our way of life was uncultured, poor and inferior little did we know that we were and indeed still are the most healthy people on the planet only comparable to Cubans!

Mad Mad World

Majority of us are sane until we receive that phone call, that is when you get to witness theatrics, acrobatics and antics that are out of this world: a window which was just shut a minute ago due to cold weather is yanked open while on phone, that is when owners of neck ties and shoes want to release their necks and feet from bondage respectively while on phone, in a matatu woe unto you if you are seated next to the window and they are  next ,  that is when they will want to reach over and struggle to open   that all this while stuck window open without much of an excuse,  some others give up their seats to standing passengers subconsciously just because he cannot take that call while seated, the call simply makes him loose his  mind. In the house it’s when suddenly they frantically search for the keys to the balcony or the front door, it’s as if they have realized they   are suffocating while on that call.

If that phone call finds you in a discussion, they will rudely cut you short and answer it without excusing themselves, poor you if you were delivering your key note speech others even interrupt church services and hitherto quite cinema halls with their phone answering mannerisms.

In the office others bolt from their desks shouting on the phone while descending downstairs, a calm collected soul not long ago suddenly springs to life with a booming voice that he could not master in the boss’s presence. In the car park they pace up and down as if standing still may disconnect that phone call, when they block your way and you want to go by, others thrust their hands for stop sign rudely like traffic police on your face thinking you are about to interrupt their animated conversation. And when that call is received while cooking, lo! God save us a fire coz that food will be long forgotten on the burner. the call receiver’s senses will be jolted only after the smell of burning food is emitted.

My first day in the Gym

We  were all busy lifting weight over  here and there, some guys still standing on the treadmill yet to make up their minds whether to switch the damn thing on or not, a pot bellied guy was groaning over his all over sudden shrunken t-shirt and at that moment is when she walked in strutting with her head held high, her thin anorexic like frame perched atop high heel stilettos and dangling a huge hand bag on her  equally thin hands (I wonder how they manage to carry such), we were all in owe, you could hear a pin drop at that moment since all activities had stopped all over sudden – what was she coming to do in the gym yet she was ‘’fit’’.

With our mouths still in ‘’o’’ mode she proceeded to the changing area wriggling her small frame out of her tight leggings and lo! She came out with the kind of shorts you see with Nivea advert models ( I think she thought at that moment that she could be one of them) her legs were long, full of tendons you had to use a microscope to make out a muscle and wonder of wonders she  donned a vest showing a showing her collar bone – I swear that depression at the collar bone was so deep it could act as a reservoir. All this time no one said a word not even from the gym instructor he too was in a lull like all of us, the spectacle before us had brought a massive confusion in the house. The lady seemed to enjoy all this attention she was receiving and when she moved to one of the treadmills at the corner, before stepping on the belt, she looked at us as if seeking an approval.

She hit the button and the thing moved, and then her thin frame responded, the spectacle was a kin to the metallic skeleton of the commando movie, and then she increased the tempo that is when our jaws dropped when she fell face down on the belt with a loud thud everyone ducked by instinct, the belt pushed her over the floor and in a quick rejoinder the gym instructor and all of us came to life and ran towards her thinking the worst. After flapping and pouring cold water on her, she came to life and all that the gym instructor asked her was ‘’would you like something to eat?

To My Daughter Who Will Never Be Born

You will never be born because you died in my scrotum. You died in my scrotum because I was killed. I was killed because I didn't vote for them. I didn't vote for them because I wasn't their tribe. I wasn't their tribe because they taught us about "watu wetu". They taught us about Watu Wetu because they ......wanted votes, from us Watu Wao.

And we fought and raped and killed in their name and sang "tuko pamoja". After the prayer rally, I trekked in my yellow vuta pumz sandals to my slum house while he rode in Yves Saint Laurent leather shoes placed on the floor mat of his Land-something V6 to his palace right across the road, in Karen. I still sang 'tuko pamoja.' I couldn't eat supper that night because I didn't have any. Besides, if I did, I didn't have salt. I could have borrowed salt, but in 2008 I killed my neighbor, who used to lend me salt, although he was not Watu Wetu, he still used to lend me salt. The Watu Wetu whom I only used to see on TV and at prayer rallies never lent me salt. In fact they used to use it to flavor the bacon they bought from the money they stole that was meant to take you, my daughter to school. You will never go to school anyway, because you died in my scrotum.

You died in my scrotum because my neighbor's sons came to kill me. My neighbor's sons came to kill me because in 2008, I killed their father while I was cheering Watu Wetu and he was cheering Watu Wao. I wish I had learnt early enough that the real Watu Wetu are the ones whom I borrowed chumvi from when I had none. The real Watu Wetu didn't need votes so that they could fatten their bellies. The real Watu Wetu are the ones who would have pushed your mother on a wheelbarrow to the slum dispensary when she was about to birth you. But you will never be born my daughter, you died in my scrotum.

I know you do not understand anything about watu wetu, or why I sang for him tuko pamoja yet I lived in a slum and he lives in a palace. You will never understand these things because you are a new breed. You are a breed called Kenyan. Your tribe doesn't matter, your second name doesn't matter. Nothing matters anyway, because you died in my scrotum when my neighbor's sons killed me because I killed my neighbor."



Mum & Dad

 

An Adaptation of Philip Ochieng's Article - I ask Blomfield: Who gave God to whom?

As if in reply to Massie Blomfield, the Dalai Lama once said: “We Buddhists are atheists”.

From the head of the world’s largest confessional movement, this must have perplexed the Judaeo-Christian world in its perennial claim that “atheism” is absence of “spirituality”.

For I know no religion more spiritual than Buddhism.

Yet — since “atheism” is such a dirty word in Western religiosity — “non-theism” would perhaps have been more tactful. Definitely, it is more accurate.

Buddhism is simply “non-theistic”: it does not worship any deity who exists apart from human beings. It teaches that divinity lives in every human individual.

The non-theistic object of worship is like Paul’s Jesus: He reveals himself “in me” (from inside), not “to me” (from outside).

The Gnostic religion of my Nilotic ancestors was akin: God’s mind was writ large inside his creations. To discover the God, then, one must study the internal structures of such bodies.

The Greeks called it Gnosis (“knowledge”). Today we call it “science”. Among my ancestors, religion and science were indivisible.

We owe today’s rigid dichotomy between them to the much more recent rise of Aristotelian metaphysics in Europe.

Before that, knowledge of the human body — the acme of God’s handiwork — was the height of worship.

Thus, such Greco-Roman converts to Nilotic religion as Archimedes, Democritus, Epicurus, Euclid, Leucippus, Lucretius, Plato, Solon, Pythagoras, Socrates and Thales — all trained at the Sais Temple in the Nile Delta — taught that self-knowledge is the godliest of all things.

To “Know Thyself” — as Socrates admonished — was possible only through introspection

Through it you automatically came face to face with the deity’s supreme commandment — namely, individual goodness to other individuals.

Though the teachings of all churches, synagogues and mosques subsume this self-commitment to humanity, the assertion is embarrassingly spurious.

It is a mere lip service through which, like “charity”, the priesthood seeks to assuage its guilty conscience.

Yet, when genuine, such a supreme individual self-effort is what proves our humanity.

Spiritually and morally, such a self-initiative — which only non-theism can teach you — is superior by far to the doctrine that only a third party (the discrete deity) can compel you to be good to other human beings.

Of course, morality is also possible through that route. I have great admiration for those — like Father Dolan — whose statements (in non-religious contexts) are completely in line with their premises about God.

But the personal lives of most of those who shout the loudest about God sharply contradict their fulminations.

Edward Carey Francis, my high school headmaster, daily condemned his fellow missionaries for the “mere piosity” of their lives.

Mohandas Gandhi said that what India needed most was Jesus Christ minus Christians and the Church.

The Aborigines, Afghans, Amerindians, Indo-Chinese, Iraqis, Kosovars, Palestinians, Saracens and Tasmanians would have agreed.

So would the victims of apartheid, the Black Hole of Calcutta, the black slave trade, colonialism, Lari, Manyani, Sharpeville and Europe’s own “Inquisition, Witch-hunt and industrial tyranny.

In all this, England’s “God-fearing” upper-classes were the number one culprits.

Yet, in Kenya — week after week — a racist and colonial diehard called Massie Blomfield uses our own newspapers to eulogise England as “God’s Chosen People”. Anybody who criticises England for these historic crimes against mankind is criticising God!

Why? Because — listen to this! — England was the race that gave “God” to us. If you are “God’s Chosen People” — a title which the Anglo-Saxons long ago grabbed from Semitic Jewry — you must be infallible and above criticism even if it was through your “God” that we succumbed to your racial bigotry, political tyranny and financial filth.

But — I ask Massie Blomfield — between the Nilotes and the Anglo-Saxons, who gave God to whom? That is a question I hope to answer decisively.

The Seychelles

August 8th 2011 was not any ordinary day, i will remember the day very well since it was the day i was leaving my motherland for the first time and it was also the  first time i was getting on a plane. the excitement was  from the fact or fear of leaving my family, friends and my ''life'' behind to start over in a new country and in a new job. i remember thinking on the plane rather primitively how the people on the other side looked like whether they lived ''normal'' like us in Kenya...how were there roads, houses, food and funnily i even wondered whether they had Games like football since i had never heard of them compete in any.


I had never seen a view of a country so beautiful from above, so much water everywhere and it was all green - water and the vegetation alike. well its now 4 months and i like the change, the people, the work culture, the governance style and social life. all a contrast as is back home. If only i was a  Kenyan politician or  if i could pull a politicians' ear as a voter i would whisper to him about the Governance style in Seychelles, a government so people oriented,  that the elderly ride free on public Buses, school children ride at half fares to school and all the wananchi can afford to ride the bus since rates are fixed to any destination. Every citizen has water and electricity and Alas! no one cooks in charcoal or paraffin, since all can afford cooking gas and its affordable compared to Kenya which has a refinery. 

Eden Island in Seychelles



The heat is unbearable though and i miss the paradise weather of Nairobi, at times its so hot you skin sticks and your gaze has to be squinted otherwise you may hurt your pupils. i cannot dress in my fancy jacket or my nice sweaters i brought from home just incase. wishing for a cold break here is like wishing to squeeze water from a rock.

Seychellois strike me as the race revolution that is already happening in the rest of the world only that here it has completed a full cycle, there are the real black African and then the entire 95% of the population is made up of people of mixed race, atleast more than half of the entire world race is represented here due to intermarriages and tourists who visit the Island and leave their wild oats to thrive on the island!

this is will be my first Christmas holiday spent far away from home and family at times i cant help but marvel at the dynamics of life, i had never imagined  i would be on the other side of the world with my family and friends on the other and that such a crucial holiday in the calender would be spent in a foreign land, it never even crossed my mind in the beginning month of January 2011, i remember i had even started saving for the big day in June but then again seems like someone else plans your life rota.

A BABY IS A EUROPEAN

 A baby is a European

He does not eat our food:

He drinks from his own water pot.

A baby is a European

He does not speak our tongue:

He is cross when the mother understands him not.

A baby  is a European

He cares very little for others:

He forces his will upon his parents.

A baby is a European

He is  always very sensitive:

The slightest scratch on his skin results in an ulcer.