jakom

I just realized that out of the many friends I purport to have I can only boost of knowing a handful by their three names ,slightly more by a single name and the vast majority by pet names conjured from the events or persons of mutual interest. You know am not alone in this if you have friends that you only know as Jakom, Baba, Mzee, Ondiegi, mtoto wa Wenger, Torres, ODM just to mention but a few. The names get more intriguing if the buddies are from the same tribe. Most of these names depict fondness in a flattering yet hilarious way that is unique to just a select few.

There are those guys that we meet, shake hands, mumble greetings or engage in some phatic communications that before we know it we become bosom buddies. It just becomes a matter of time before they become our football comrades, accomplices in little crimes, laughing over some jokes, hanging out, engaging in life defying stunts that one would mistake us for having known each other our whole lives. With time as is synonymous with most if not all aspects of life we begin to share intimate details such as our worst fears, passions and even life projections. That is why it becomes quite embarrassing if you have to introduce your mate to other pals or in formal scenarios where those pet names will simply not suffice.

What motivated me to do this piece is an incidence the other day that was just so awkward I wished for the first time superman and I were buddies. Maybe I would just have pressed the distress button and he would have waltzed in and spirited me to a safer ground. Onyancha- if you thought that self confessed rapist/serial killer I couldn’t begrudge you. But this Onyancha was a friend of mine from school to whose shoulders was bestowed the task of continuing his legacy. Never mind that the chasm between their physical statures and their ways was just as wide as Saddam Hussein and Desmond Tutu. Let’s just say that the reasons are not necessary to follow this story. But if you cough up some dollars I might just be kind enough to let you in on why the name came to be.

As would be planned by none other than capricious gods, he invited me over to his home after realizing that our homes were merely walking distance. I found the entire family on the lunch table- but he who I was looking for.

Strangely this name had become so embedded that I forgot he had a real name in the first place. ”Is Onyancha around?” I asked .What ensued was some awkward moment before his siblings broke into pearls of laughter after filling in the gaps. The noise did not abate an iota with the father politely explaining that I had the wrong house and my insistence that I had been there before seemingly failing to convince him. The situation only took a turn for the better when Martin-or should I still call him Mzee Onyancha came to the rescue. This I later realized was a hoax that was orchestrated to teach me a valuable lesson-the value of getting to know each other-by name first.

This experience has just given me the fresh impetus I needed to make a meaningful life course. And I know exactly where to start-to replace the contacts hitherto replaced in my phones as lady x, y, graduation square, Eldoret with real names. I know this process may cost me some points I had previously earned or even some friends but don’t the Swahili say it’s better kuziba offer than kujenga ukuta. That’s my New Year’s resolution-to get to know my friends not just as Hulk or Osama but by their anointed names as well.

I can only urge you my pals to follow suit to avoid scenarios such as, “This is Hitler, Hitler this is ……, sorry where are my manners…I should let you do the introductions yourselves”

of men and their precarious selves

Isn’t it funny how things sometimes turn out? Events occur that either leaves us in fits of rage or crumple just about everything we hold dear, everything we believe in. Sometimes we get into a limbo and retrospectively looking back, we just can’t seem to fathom how we got where we are in the first place. In most cases we never take responsibility for the chronology of events that put us in the tight spot. The converse is however true. We can’t help but blurb to the whole world how it took a stroke of genius for the success or how meticulous planning and Machiavellian discipleship on our part paid off. Never mind if we just borrowed the idea or copied it from other places. It’s just human nature, someone would point out.

What people think of us play a critical role on how we handle ourselves, in the public realms at the very least. Most if not all of Adam’s offspring like to portray a picture of calm, refined and peace with himself. Bold and strong, that’s the picture we all strive to portray. People want to be seen as the hero who defended their ideologies against popular thought. Nobody wants to be seen as the coward who relinquished his principles at the altar of sacrifice. Our worst fears are bottled up and shoved away. Nobody wants to be seen as feminine-the traditional misconception at the very least. Well, that’s humans for you.

We live in a diverse world where the line between right and wrong is very blurry. The Somali circumcise their ladies and consider it an important moral rite of passage. The medical community and human rights lobby groups consider it an unnecessary evil that places sentimental value over basic human rights. One would wonder how a whole community could be so wrong about a concept. But again truth isn’t democratic and sheer numbers alone cannot be used to determine what is right and what is wrong. One would wonder then why we place so much emphasis on our democratic process. “It’s different”, that’s the commonest answer you are likely to get. How different though nobody will even attempt to explain.

We all for strive for peace, or at the very least that’s what we proclaim to every single pair of listening ear that we can get. Never mind that it’s only when it’s in our own best immediate interests to pursue. We lay our actions on reputable sources that support our course of the moment but won’t hesitate to demonize the same references when it doesn’t suit our needs. A perpetual drunkard would argue that it’s God’s son who brewed the sweetest wine on earth. It therefore beats logic that He would castigate those appreciating his first miracle in Cana, Galilee.

In any debate, there are different prisms of looking at the same issue. There is the religious front, the moral front, the legal front among others. Am not saying that these views must always clash, at times they are in tandem. Christianity prohibits murder, so does the statutes of the land, so does the norms of our forefathers. The laws of the land excuse murder when there is a case of being pushed to justifiable anger or in case of defending one’s self. The Bible, The Christian good book though does not support it, the motivation  notwithstanding. It even frowns on anger in the first place. Whichever way of thought you subscribe to, you can’t always be right all the time and of course you can’t always be wrong always.

That’s just the dilemma of being human. That’s just how we are-united in our physical resemblance (or most of it at the very least) but divided in everything else.

Did I deserve this?

You assured me you were mine forever

You promised me the stars

Guaranteed me only happiness

In the end it’s a broken heart that I got

How could you?

Why did you?

Questions swirl in my mind

No answers forthcoming

My life was just fin e before you come

I dint have goose bumps but it was ok

Dint know what exhilaration was

But I never minded

Does it bother me one bit?

No it doesn’t

Am fine, see

No traces of blood in my body

I dint ask you to promise

Hell’ I even asked you not to

But you won’t listen

You were consumed by love you said

If it razed you down

I can’t really tell

No ashes to sprinkle

All memories condensed into one big ball in my heart

All I do now is to interrogate myself

What if we never met?

What if I were a better man?

What if u never left?

And am back where I started

No answers; just questions begetting questions

You looked me straight in the eyes and lied

But it does not bother me

Am a very strong man, see?

I got huge muscles that men fear and women look in awe

Am an Olympic boxing champion for heaven’s sake

I can’t cry

Who am I kidding?

The heart knows no muscles

Heartache respects no champions

And I ask myself, did I deserve this

Mzee Varaq

(My poems)

You can’t be serious

You are sorry?

That’s it?

After all you put me through?

Now you want me back?

Hehe, you can’t be serious

You didn’t mean to; so you say

You, who left and never turned back,

You that left me to the whims of destiny

Now you want be by your side?

Hehe you can’t be serious

It’s been over five years

What you said still etched in my mind

“John it’s over!”

Now you can’t live without me?

Hehe you can’t be serious

Each day was like the sun would never set

Each night was like the sun would never rise

I wept, slept and woke up to weep again

Now you want in?

Hehe you can’t be serious

I loved you

My world revolved around

But that apparently wasn’t enough

You disappeared at the first opportunity

Now, I am your reason for living?

Hehe you can’t be serious

I won’t have jumped in front of a train for you

But I would have had qualms taking the death pill for you

But you never lost sleep over it

Now you miss me?

Hehe you can’t be serious

All I wanted was to leave the moment

Look into your blue beautiful eyes

And read love in them

But you wanted me to move on just as you did

Now you treasure me?

Hehe you can’t be serious

I didn’t die and so wont you

You might cry; but you definitely won’t weep

You might feel sad; but you won’t   greave for sure

And though I may be wrong about that as well

I know for sure that if I survived you will to

I aint mad

It doesn’t hurt any more

If you tolerated me, she celebrates me

If you loved me, she is in love with me

It’s too late my love

Hehe move on.

Robert Aseda

(My poems)

oukoaseda@gmail.com

Kenyatta University

The truth?

Everyday people talk of the truth; be it parents molding their children or pastors preaching of the brimstones of hell. Folk stories and children bed time tales sell their fairy tale endings but as a gift for the truthful. Many an occasion in the Christian holy book, the Bible, the word has been used synonymously with Jesus, the son of God. If there were ever a word that was looked at with so much awe and reverence then maybe the ancient Greek gods came close.

But if there is a word that has borne the brunt of misrepresentation and manipulation to suit individuals own personal agenda, then its truth again. Suicide bombers, terror bosses, rogue ministers of the word have all at one point clung the defenses of their actions on spreading the truth. So this raises the basic question; what’s the truth? How can one simple word invite such non polar representations? How can the meaning vary with so much propensity?

My dictionary defines truth as the actual facts or information about something, rather than what people think, expects, or make up. According to that meaning therefore it is safe to assume that there can be but just one truth in a circumstance. Can it be for example considered truthful to report as half empty a glass with water to the half level mark?  Or could be half full a fairer representation? Could it be possible that both alternatives while dissimilar are all true? Is it possible that none of them is even right for that matter?

I subscribe to the belief that it’s possible to have so many truths and they don’t have to be of conflicting interests. I believe that the glass can be both half empty and half full at the same time.i also believe that it can be true that we are all children of Allah just as it is true that we are creations of the lord. Truth I believe is relative and dependant on circumstances and personality. Absolute truth is not only extremist but also a hazard to human peace, tolerance and understanding.

If we as humans are to peacefully coexist, then it’s time we realized that nobody owns the monopoly of truth and just cause others’ definitions of truth might not always be similar to ours then it does not  mean they are wrong .

” What’s my truth? “You might be tempted to ask.” what’s yours?” I might be obliged to reply.

hague

If the general elections, world cups, a Harambee stars match or even the annual safari seasons ever caused ripples in the nation, then the ICC trials surpasses them all. Since the first time the suspects appeared before the pretrial chamber, to the confirmation hearings, events, strategies and alliances have all been made with the Hague process as reference. That the suspects secured hot shot attorneys, the media hype surrounding have all thrown the rugby world cup out of ranks as the first choice.

Politicians, pollsters and even armchair analysts have all come up with theories as regards to who the biggest losers and winners are going to be bearing in mind that two leading presidential candidates whose worth cannot be wished away are involved and the two have made the possibility of inclusion of a third a not so distant reality.

That the bungled generation elections of 2007 was the straw that broke the camel’s back or that the violence broke out along tribal lines is a fact that few can try to oppose. The six co accused have all been very vehement in their denials and any court of public opinion would be unfair not to believe them. However, whist the six are Kenyans or that the first three were Kalenjin should not be read as a charge against any of the aforementioned groups.

The charges are against the six and any attempt to drag public emotion should be treated with the contempt that they deserve .the clergy have also not left behind in this craze as they momentarily remove their gabardines and participate in the debate based on their ethnic or political affiliation which a time are highly synonymous.

It’s a high time we realized that the nation is greater than any individual and rise above narrow segments to defend the good name of our republic, the feeling that we get after one, two, three sweep in the three thousand steeplechase or for the pride of having a Kenyan revolutionize mobile banking through innovations such as the MPESA.

Natural justice has to be seen to be done as opposed to sectarian baying of blood, evaluation of all root causes of the post election violence skirmishes as opposed to laying off some few people at the altar of sacrifice. whichever way the proceedings go, politicians are always going to do what they do best-say what they need to get what they need and our nation will always remain .long live Kenya.