Diary of a Jack of all Trades: January 2014

Monday 27 January 2014

It’s gym time!

So today after a long time away I paid a visit to Burundi. No; not that country. If you’ve been in KU for probably one semester you will know why Burundi is a place of interest. It is here where event organizers go to shop for the perfect bouncers. The one’s with chests the size of Tom Mboya’s statue and the legs of Lupita Nyongo. It is here where men with mutual respect for hard work and toil congregate to share dieting and workout tips. It doesn’t matter for how long you’ve been caressing the weights, a Burundian has to immediately acquire the gait of Rambo and strut around campus like a colossus. You will probably start noticing that the university’s gates are suddenly getting smaller for your convenience and you have to start passing sideways through the metal detectors.

I once had that ambition to be on top of the world, to feel supreme. To set my own rules and remind the ‘smaller’ men who the real boss is. To have absolutely no qualms to knock out somebody’s expensive drinks just to slight them to their dates. But my main motivation was to send chills to Johnny Bravo. Not just to stand my ground; that I could easily do with my hockey stick as a weapon. If you watched those mafia movies back then when five shillings was enough entertainment allowance for three hours you’ll recall that there was always that starring who never seemed to die. They would be put to purpose by revenge for a dead friend, family or somebody they just met on the train. Whatever their motive whether out of sheer boredom or a sense of divine justice they always marveled me. I remember in class five I changed my name to David Bradley, he of the Delta Force movies. Of course my mother didn’t let the joke go on for long.

Forgive my detour; you just need to understand where I’m coming from. Back to Johnny Bravo. You remember the famous Johnny Bravo, the super ‘douche’ who made our mornings on carton network? Yes, exactly...…that’s him; in flesh this time; just a darker, shorter and a more hairy version making him scarier than the original version. What would have peace loving Varaq done to piss off gigantic Johnny bravo? It wasn’t my fault I must say from the onset.

See in first year there’s this friend of ours called Wiz. Not his names recognized by the HELB records of course. He was a Kariuki from Thika but heavily influenced by Lil Wayne. He had dreadlocks on his head and his trousers were those ones with chains that my neighbor at Kotieno could probably use to tie Saddam, Bush and Osama and stop them from causing havoc in the village. In case I lost you there, those names aren’t for humans but for some fierce canines who have no qualms in devouring an entire limb at the slightest provocation. Now Kariuki my friend, sorry he doesn’t like that name much, always had his trademark trousers hanging below his Liverpool pants. You probably are wondering where I’m going on with this. I’ll get there shortly.

Wiz had this gorgeous girlfriend called something something. It’s actually strange I don’t remember her name considering she is the reason why I had my ego punctured by another man. It’s the classic story of ladies preferring muscle over swag. In my foolish bravado and false sense of loyalty I may have uttered some unprintable words to provoke a trigger happy muscled man. You don’t wanna know what happened. Just know that it is the reason I hit the grounds of Burundi like a guy possessed. A week later and no major change in physique I gave up and accepted my fate as a small man. Maybe God had his reasons.

I remembered this story and laughed at the folly of youth. That place seems doesn’t change much. Uji is still fifteen bob despite the passing of the VAT bill. Once again not relevant to the story I just like to talk about VAT to piss some people. The rickety benches that I left at the muscle factory the last time I was there are still the foams from which fats are burned. Never mind that during that time the good university has completed constructions on the Postmodern Library and a couple of buildings fully furnished with electric chairs that respond to sensory motion. Ok, you can close your mouth now, that’s a slight exaggeration. But as they say Burundi isn’t the infrastructure, it is the person. That quote sounds familiar, right? Even the faces who were there when I was still an innocent fresher are still the same. The only thing probably different was the number of staff and the introduction of omena as lunch delicacy.

So why am I back to Burundi? See, there is this girl that I met the other day in KM. That’s not rocket science, it’s always about a girl. If there’s anything closest to perfection then Doreen it is. With the smile of an angel and her amazing walk. The one wahengas (still don’t know who they are) would call ‘mwendo wa njiwa’. Of course that’s nothing if her milk dispensers and her Kogallo Defence Forces isn’t strong enough to carry a child without holding him. She is the kind of girl with that innocent charm that you feel like holding and never letting go.

But that alone isn’t enough motivation to spend my entire doing harming my body to gain some abs. See, Doreen and Johnny bravo have something going. And whereas my lips moved to purpose by crammed Shakespearean lines has never let me down, the same level of confidence cannot be said about my martial ability to defend myself lest the wounded lion come for me. I want to b the hero of the story, not a martyr. It won’t be bad for my posthumous CV though if I were St Varaq. A guy can dream right?

In the meantime I’ll take my time, not three days this time…maybe three weeks, maybe three months.

I hope what revenge couldn’t accomplish, real love can.

Wish me luck

Sunday 12 January 2014

Open Letter to Mr President

Greetings Mr. President,

Hope this finds you well. I know you are a busy man from your East African Community responsibilities, defending your appointments to your insatiable kusema na kutenda partners, thinking about Raila and balancing your commitments with the Hague commitments but I still hope you get time to read my letter. I particularly have no worries using this method to reach you considering you are one of the most digital presidents in the world with a verified twitter account and a Facebook page with the highest likes for a president. That you picked your director of communications from the blogging world is a pointer that unlike them, you are digital. Unlike them you are trendy; unlike them you are a cool Prezzo. I’ll be brief though, I know you got enough on your plate.

It is 2014 and that means it is almost a year into your disputed election win. I know it is so early to judge your general performance; to say that you have failed or not. The one year though is enough to show the general trajectory of your leadership. I’m not a doomsayer but even you fair sir know we not heading the Canaan way. At one year, my two year old niece Tehzeen Nyar Alego had already started crawling, known how to mutter certain words such as ‘tabaya’ for ‘tabia mbaya’ among others. She was able to recognize people; important people like anko Bobat (Uncle Robert), ask for food when hungry and for the ‘potty’ when she wanted to ‘pupu’. Hope you don’t feel offended but at one year you still pissing on your clothes instead of asking for the potty.

The jubilee manifesto was a well crafted document. I am a man who gives credit where it is due. Despite borrowing heavily from the Nyongo-written ODM manifesto of 2007, the document actually had great ideas that could propel us to where we rightfully belong at the summit of African political and economic existence. One year later the cost of living has tripled, essential commodities are attracting hefty VAT taxes, the unemployment rate has tremendously increased, and crime has become kitsch and fad. The stadiums that you promised to build remain dreams while the current ones are in dilapidated states and given funny names that decry and deny our national heritage 50 years after independence. I know you inherited some of these problems but surely Mr. President there’s something your good government could have done to stabilize things from the previous regime if they couldn’t get better.

That you have been setting the ground running in readiness for 2017 is not bad. It’s actually genius. After all who would want to go down the history books as a onetime president? That is why we understand when every fortnight you make a trip to the vote rich Rift Valley to explain to the Keters that they are wrong and that they need to shut up. But politicking at the expense of national development is not just morally wrong but also quite distractive. Let Raila Odinga and company talk. They have nothing that they are mandated to do. They thus won’t share your looming failure to address our developmental needs.

Whereas antics such as issuing of title deeds to squatters at the coast and other acts of camaraderie may earn you first page photos in the newspaper and glowing tributes in fashion magazines, they don’t go a long way in addressing the discord from the spiraling cost of living. Whereas putting on matching shirts and ties with your number two may generate massive likes on Facebook and social media, they don’t take away our discomfort with the Jubilee government.

Time for posing is gone

Everybody needs a bulldog; One that bites for you whenever unwanted strangers stray. You have that in Aden Duale. The guy is indefatigable in defending your blameless government and I truly believe he is an invaluable asset to your administration. He is to you what Luca Brasi was to the Godfather. Sorry, I like quoting Mario Puzo a lot. But any dog owner would be quick to remind you that every dog needs to be tamed lest they embarrass the master. There’s nothing as pleasing as watching a person self destroy themselves. Tame Duale, his remarks are of a man drunk with power. He is the kind of guy to say that Ole Lenku was being used by Raila to embarrass the jubilee government.

To an unobserving eye hoodwinked by a national media with no scrupulous, George Thuo may have died in a club after taking one too many, George Saitoti may have died from a sad but inevitable mechanical challenges of his aircraft, Mutula Kilonzo sexual appetite may have caused his untimely death and Senator Wetangula’s car hit a banner and came out with bullet wounds perhaps to seek public sympathy. Over what beats my average intelligence. But you and I know that the untimely death of members of the PNU subcommittee on ICC raises questions. I’m not saying that you have connections to the underworld; I’m not saying you have connections to Jack Bauer. All am saying is that when coincidences are too much, tongues begin wagging. If Wetangula drowns in River Nzoia, or is bitten by a cobra people will point at you. And they’ll have valid reasons to.

Your latest appointment of Muthaura but just puts an icing on a trend that has largely characterized your presidency. He joins the likes of Karangi, Kamau, and Macharia in the powerful dockets. That you got overwhelming support from KAMATUSA and GEMA is not in doubt. But you are not presidents of the two regions alone. You are on record as saying that let the losers wait for their turn. Nothing wrong with that I must add. But don’t you think you embedding tribalism and entrenching it deeper into our collective conscious?

You have resorted to playing politics with parastatal jobs; awarding cronies and political orphans far cast to the cold by the unforgiving Kenyan electorate. People who perhaps there major asset is the invaluable experience garnered in the Kenyan political shouting loudest in political rallies and increasing their pay at the slightest opportunity. What business does Waititu for example have heading a water services board? Yes, he is experienced. We get that. But experience in the wrong sectors. It is thus betrayal for a government that rose to power on the mantra of generational change to resort to geriatric discrimination .But we will live with that, after all choices have consequences.

Sometimes I wonder who advices you. Granted, am yet to fully earn my first degree but some things require just a tinge of common sensed to detect. There are certain school boy pranks that you have attempted to wriggle your way against the ICC that have not endeared you to the international community. You have successfully been able to rally the union of dictators and members of the impunity club (African union) against what you’ve rightfully called western domination and imperialism. But even you would know that you don’t bite hands that feed you. Nearly 90% of poverty alleviation projects in Nyanza and western are funded by the so called imperialists and whilst it is ok and rather brave to demand respect I wonder if the braggadocio and the chest thumping that your henchmen have been displaying of late will ensure that HIV/AIDS patients have access to ARVs or that sexually active youth have access to long term and sustainable contraceptives including condoms? The media bill though is not bad. We don’t mind their muzzling. They should just accept and move on. We don’t mind our TVs being off too, we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother Your Mother and laugh at Ted Mosby and Barney Stinson.

On to a positive note I can see you are a student of Machiavelli and you have learnt the art of political survival. I must commend you for the kinds of duties that you have bestowed upon your deputy. The kinds of chores that you have continuously assigned to him are the less populous statements. He has been to you what Raila was to Kibaki. While you’ve been playing the good cop, he is the bad cop that gets his hands dirty for your government. For that I must applaud you. You just have to find a way of rewarding Keter with a parastatal job or an ambassadorial position. I personally prefer the later because it will keep him in Pakistan or Cuba and thus away from him.

Your work is cut out for you in 2014 Mr. President, I for one wish that in this year you achieve just a fraction of the jubilee manifesto, that you limit posturing and actually do something to contain the spiraling cost of living, create some jobs so that we have somewhere to go when we finish campus and most of all guard our sovereignty jealously while remembering that big brothers are sometimes allowed to be bossy.

If you do that, you won’t be my favorite person but you’ll earn my respect. …Not that it matters anyway.

Happy New Year Baba Ngina!