Lessons from 2012, part 1

For as long as I can remember I have always been Mzee Varaq. Mzee not coz of grey hair or advanced age per se but more coz of busara that comes with age. I think  busara sounds deeper as compared to knowledge or even wisdom for that matter. But if 2012 succeeded in doing something then it was to remind me of how much more I still need to learn. That’s not of course to say that mi si mzee tena, even the elderly sometimes succumb to the plethora of deception that is the world. After ‘launching’ that ‘serious’ word I know I have your attention now.

The year that was was truly rollercoaster in every way. There were moments of triumph just as there were moments of hard loss, moments of reflection just as there were moments of action, moments of toil just as there were moments of reward, moments of joy just as there were moments of grief .Towards the end of the year I lost my cousin Zakayo Otie, no relationship to that Zacheaus of Samaria or was it Galilee? I ain’t sure. That was a moment of pain. My birthday party was a tragicomic event and if there’s any single event that can claim to have made me a wiser man then it would suffice.

Allow me dear friends to share with you some of the lessons I learnt, the hard way. Consider them wise words of life from an old man ‘who has seen all’ yaani ameona yote…….ok, almost all.

There are certain things that we can do, others however no matter the effort we put aren’t just our things. Top of my list is dancing. Not even if money is involved. I had an opportunity to audition for a Kenya Power advert and it just didn’t end nicely. That moment you remain standing among five hundred bended people is the moment you realize that you don’t belong. Thanks Ragen though for the chance, am sorry I let u down. It’s just that I got two left feet. If you hear of an opportunity in acting or even singing you can let me know. Vera says I have an amazing voice.

vultures fun day at paradise lost,planning a party isn't just venue and finance

Party planning ain’t my thing. I ain’t just crafty and strategic enough to plan and host party. I came to this conclusion after two parties that I actively participated in planning enjoyed a zero success rate. I realized that mobilizing is just the easier part; it’s what you do afterwards that counts. Parties, I tend to think, follows Murphy’s Law of if it can go bad, it will really go bad. I remember, not so long ago, the onus of  planning my primary school reunion fell on Jaduon’g Mano, the de jure and the de facto chair and I. I won’t tell you of how lunch was served at 1800 hours or how we lost the respect of Nyar Ruoth or of how we had to feign seriousness just to create the impression that something was being done. I will tell you though that the incident left me with a bad egg on the face. I don’t plan to plan any party soon, unless of course it’s my victory party. And even that will fall on gifted persons.

Another party principle that 2012 taught me is that light doesn’t mix with darkness. That in issues of religion and God there can never be a middle ground. I learnt that in any gathering it’s important to define the spiritual path, just so that people remain 'gweng’mates'. Just what kind of crowd you are dealing with is important as whereas some people like Lord Rungu believe that there can never be a party without Kibao, others like the alpha male believe that a party must have mud, arega, akina nani and to further separate it from smaller parties, ingoho.

Another lesson that the year forced on me is that River Road and Githurai have one thing in common-They should be avoided like plagues. This is because of the merchants of impunity who operate along these streets waiting to maim the not so born Tao. I also learnt never to buy anything from these places if they can be gotten elsewhere. The former coz they sold me coins in a nice case for a phone and the latter coz they sold me training shoes that didn't last a single training session, not one!

These two places also reminded me how powerless one can really be and just why Paradiso touts will not be among the top hundred to heaven. Not just coz if they say fare ni mbao they mean forty bob or the sheer braggadocio they carry themselves with knowing they are in the safety of their buses but a thousand more reasons. Don’t take such incidences personally, it’s just business. Who knows maybe in Githu City the sheng for coinage changes? After all they forget about you the moment your little altercation is done. Why carry unrequited hate? So this year I make a conscious effort not to let them ruin my days, not to get pissed at people not worth it and of course to always carry coins of every denomination while on official businesses in Githu city.

Contrary to what Hollywood, Nollywood, Hollywood or any other wood may depict people don’t just bump into the streets of Cassandra, collude and live happily thereafter. To a paltry few it may earn you a number but the vast majority will always be that guy who doesn’t look where he’s going. In certain cases it might even earn you severe reprimand or a slap to jolt you to your senses especially if you ruined Shiro’s expensively done nails. Trust me, I know what am saying. Not that I intentionally fell ladies down looking for a happily thereafter but shit happens.

 People are not electricity. I know serious biochemists like Btesh are getting ready to protest . They would like to remind me that the body is connected to a network of nerves that transmit electricity throughout the body. Granted. When I say people aren’t electricity I mean they just don’t get switched on and off whenever your heart desires. If you want them on, you have to cajole, beg, pour compliments from agwata and have the patience of a nun. That she’ll get to heaven and the saints there will finally devirgin her. The reason am saying this is coz I lost many an opportunities because I didn't wait for the lights to open, because I didn't have the patience to follow things to their natural conclusion.

...........................................Part Two Coming UP

The forgotten blog

Ts bin years I know since I last posted, av bin enjoying every bit of ma holz, ok, not necessarily enjoying but living every bit of it.
I finally become a man, a fellow of respect now that I finally did smth.
no, I dint bring wanjiku or any girl to Mama for that reason.
I dint face the knife, just some rams n chicken had a date with the guillotine.
Hey, nimechoka na kutype kwa simu, al tell u about ma holz soon, maybe next week, maybe moro, just keep checking.
Twas really funfilled, wat with ma primary reunion bash, Maryjoy,rendezvous at Istanbul, no, not the racist city
Adios or is it au revoire,ull have to ask Njives that one

posted from Bloggeroid

Mwalimu Andrew

http://www.nation.co.ke/Features/lifestyle/Fiolinas-day-out-in-Nairobi/-/1214/1653492/-/item/1/-/m40xnlz/-/index.html

posted from Bloggeroid

Till semester do us apart

I wasn’t planning to write anything soon but trust Caroline Mutoko to always inspire me. She hit a raw nerve when she said generation Y are idle and of average mind. Well, here’s me writing and tweeting and fbooking to kill the idleness. I hope they count as something meaningful. I just don’t understand though how someone would one call her listeners idle. You won’t be in the market had it not been for these idlers who have nothing to do other than listen to you day in day out. Besides I don’t think just yapping on the radio for two hours could be that hard. For her lovers don’t lynch me #just saying.

After a hard academic semester I believe I deserved ample time with my screen watching all the broken series I had acquired courtesy of the post modern internet in KU’s post modern library .I just had to mention that ,just so my family would know my favourite hangout spots in school.

If there is something that I would rather skip is the semesterly moving with luggage to and from KU. The only silver lining is that the sacks of maize I came with are now history having been converted into arega. Am already thinking of not carrying cham next sem. You’ll have to ask Jaduon’g Omosh what that means. It’s during packing that you realize just how many paraphernalia that you have that you are not using. With the season over, my hockey equipment are just nuisances. Just as is the cooking coil, the books, the bedding, the clothes amongst others. The only thing preventing me from discarding them is that there is the East Africa games coming in Dar (just had to mention that too, don’t worry swry all be back).And of course all still have to eat to be fit, look good and have bedding for good use- to rest in case you were starting to have some ideas.

just y i have to carry cham

The semester has been short what with the lectures strike and senior lectures like Dr Onsongo going to the Yunaired States of America every fortnight to parry(read party).

There is a concept in epidemiology called epidemiological transition. Relax, it’s no biggie .It simply means that the patterns of disease or a condition are changing based demographic factors such as age, sex, employment status etc. Well, if there is a phenomenon that can be observed is the changing patterns, not of disease, but of relationships throughout the sem. At different times, there are those guys who are most sought after.

 At the beginning of the semester the regular Joe has a chance just as everybody else. This is especially true if HELB has ‘done something’ or he can create the impression that he is loaded. Just long enough to get, get in some more and get out. The trend however changes during the middle of the sem when the global economic turndown starts to be felt. The ladies just like the nomads are forced to look for greener pastures. It’s at this time of the semester that Naliaka of Bungoma suddenly has an uncle she visits every weekend. However, just like the heavy Joe at the beginning of the semester this marriage of convenience ends before it even starts. Though not coz the pot of cash ran dry but because it’s the exam time and people forgot that at the end of it all, there is always an exam.

operation tembelea uncle

At such times, the academically gifted of us get to hold the drivers seat. Assignments get done for them, sweet SMSes start coming their way.

Babe u r God’s gift to me, I don’t know what I could have done that without u

It is usually followed by a request
Babe siskii poa,c unifanyie hiyo assigno ya PPH 301,pleez,……….mwaaah!

The majority swallows the bait whole and do two assignments, write two notes and even in cats think for two. Others however, know the drill, bide their time and make sure that their academic contributions are well rewarded in goods commensurate to the effort put in. However, there is need to move in fast lest she moves to uncle on her way home.

I remember when I was in primary school, the bullies used to bellow that, “abiro loro kodi”
That translated simple means that I will close with you.
People would gather and watch as the two fought their way down to death, not death death. A self appointed referee would ask a person who feels strong enough to cross a marked line or put the grass on the other. Even though sometimes you were scared to the stomach there would be no turning better. During those days we used to say that dhiang tho gi lum e thoga.

Today am in good moods so ill translate that too. It means a bull dies with grass in its mouth. The overlying logic here was that one could lose honorably in the ‘arena’ or punk out and be the laughing stock of the school until somebody did something more stupid. It is during such battle that you would wish for the referee to end the match and just declare the winner especially when you were the man on the receiving end. The referee had at this time however forgotten his responsibilities and was enjoying the action. At such times one could only be saved by the closing bell or by turning carnivorous. You know like biting a huge chunk of meat from the bingwa. However such actions were considered girlish thus one had to it discreetly.

I remembered this incidence because it does happen in universities too. No, not of sweaty men strangling each other or fighting to the ground. In universities, one just chooses something and marks it in his head that I will close with it. In most cases it is that girl you have always wanted during the semester or getting drunk silly, momentarily forgetting who you are, what’s going on around you and overindulging .The latter is very risky as you might be forced to walk to Westy (I don’t mean Westlands Nairobi but western Kenya) or go to the campus shylocks to ask for fare. Unlike the shylock of Venice who asked for a pound of flesh, these ask something of greater value like that camera you bought with your first HELB or that phone your aunty gave you as a birthday present. Who said we can’t do aunties?

There is that surge of courage that comes when you realize that she’ll be leaving next week. After all what’s the worst that could happen. If she says yes it’s till semester do us apart, if she says no, well I was just kidding. There is however need to be careful of some ladies who fatten the ram before slaughter. These are the ones that invite you over for uji in the last fortnight of the semester. At the end of it all know that you are being readied to carry luggage to the gate. This category of men however don’t score because asking would be very very awkward. So the next time u notice extra friendly activity at the end of the semester, and it’s usually consistent, don’t be that hen who thinks their owner gives her maize because he loves her.

Then of course there is the all weather group. These are the guys who are likely to charm at the beginning as they are likely to charm at the end. In most cases they play for the Vultures, are cash laden and spot Mohawks on their head. They most cases have a pink shirt, purple pants and orange shoes. They usually have sun glasses never mind its 2000 hours. My friend Masibo calls it ‘swagger’
Where do the rest of us fall? There is this category who subscribes to the broes over whores philosophy. I used to be a staunch member of this group till I heard that the thinking out there is this broes don’t have hoes .I guess am temporarily groupless.

The moment I realize what group I belong to, will inform you good people.

AshyVy Lauvly

You are the reason behind my many a sleepless nights

Neither coz u shout nor coz you play loud music

Not coz you burnt my house or stole my bed

Not coz you bother me but coz you don’t

The crack of dawn finds me wide awake

Thinking not how am going to make bread

Charting not a path to prosperity

But forging a way to win you

My days have never been this longer

My nights never more intolerable

Everything I touch crystallizes into you

My mind is devoid of anything but you

Life has never been the same since I set my eyes on you

Your stunning curves an object of my fantasy

Your big blue eyes a target of my lust

Ur smile my rallying call to action

Adoration rage in my heart

Thoughts of you suffocate my mind

Strategies and work plans form in my mind

Each though has a slight defect and joins the ever growing pile on the dust bin

For how long is this going to continue?

For how long is cupid going to hold me at ransom?

For how long I may going to be under this spell?

How long am I going to play hostage?

Am not asking you to love me

That though would be the best thing fate would ever throw my way

Am not even asking you to try

All I am asking is that you let me love you

To let me replay the scenes in my mind

To have you in flesh

To fulfill what I was brought forth to do

To love you; to dream on

Mzee Varaq

There's a country I used to lead

There is a country I used to lead
I was their supreme leader
They adored me like a faithful dealer
I was their Messiah sent to sire

They loved to be manipulated
Shoved and ordered around hither and thither
Sadistic made them go ballistic
They saw the strong grip of a tyrant ruler as artistic

Anarchy wasn't a vice in that nation
Nor was the selfishness evident like a cancerous lession
Civil liberties and freedom were kitch and fad words
Gruesome violence was awesome

Accountability is the thing in this nation I lead now
A hundred rats jostling for my position
Democracy,equality and transparency is their new song
They are tired of the fervent hold of an ageing dictator


©MzeeVaraq2012

posted from Bloggeroid

The grand conspiracy

I have not updated this blog of late, too much activity in the varaqsphere I would add. Yet the main reason I think has been lack of motivation. I have recently discovered that I can write best when am mad at something or somebody or can feign enough anger, just sufficient to complete a post. The truth however is that things have not been that bad, really. Am even tempted to say good, the only problem though with that word is that it doesn’t exist in varaqsphere. My blog is about whining remember?

So last week, after a long sabbatical I finally decided to pay a visit to DJ Brayo. Now DJ Brayo is not your normal mix master, he is my movie guy. Okay, not just mine alone, Default’s too. Okay even you Wekemeu. He operates, or for the purpose of this story, used to operate a movie shop in Tom Mboya Street. I can’t really recall the last time I was there. I think I went to look for some series, it must be How I met your mother, I think. The construction of the Post Modern Library and free Wi-Fi I think have something to do with it. This is despite the director of Wi-Fi’s (am not sure the position exists) best effort to limit the internet usage to things academic. After all, doesn’t watching Dr House, teach us practical medicine? 

Well, the place looked different with a new shelving system; beautiful ladies on cue, ready to assist you choose the new thing in the market. Also gone with DJ Brayo was my dear Caro. Now Caro in all sincerity was the reason I went to DJ Brayo’s on such a regular basis. She was just a sight to behold. She had this charming smile that made me buy documentaries upon documentaries, even those, especially those I didn’t need. Sometimes I look at my collection and wonder how the hell I got to buy documentaries such as `How to smuggle marijuana in the US’. Nothing personal against marijuana people but seriously? Smuggle? Marijuana? In the United States? I think I must have thought uncle Barry would come for me. I remember I used to tell her how Roba and Caro would make a lovely couple. There is this line that I liked using a lot then that if we cancelled the similar letters in our names, we would   remain 1-1, yaani draw yaani moja. What perfect sync!

And even though I knew her first loyalty was to DJ Brayo, I was just willing, and of course able to buy anything she recommended. In all fairness though, they weren’t such bad choices, I mean most of them. So I finally looked at the handsome man in the mirror, mustered some courage and told myself,”Varaq, you can do this!” you must imagine my disappointment when I got there and not being greeted by my most favorite smile in the world, okay second favorite, just so I don’t find myself single after this article. She had left, just like that, I mean who does that? No note, no press statement. In all fairness we didn’t exchange numbers; she liked it mysterious and random. But she could just have googled me. The new ladies though were not keen on offering any information on the former tenants so I guess all just have to look for you manually all over Nairobi, that’s if you dint go to smuggle marijuana in the US already.ill knock on ever door, until I find you. So in case you are reading this  1/1 is coming for you  babe.

Well this episode at DJ Brayo’s reminded me of just how far apart we are getting, I mean the Maseno community in KU. One can’t rule out that there has been a grand conspiracy to destabilize and disorient the Mase Musketeers by the top echelons of power. I remember every Friday was nyama day in mzee Default’s room, never mind that we didn’t have sufurias, plates, spoons, or even basic ingredients such as cooking oil and even the cooker! All we had was hope, the same hope instilled in Barrack Obama jr by Barrack Obama snr, a Maseno boy. We didn’t care whether we had to borrow, steal or buy and dispose(we weren’t keepers then).All we had was the conviction that at the end of a laborious week, Default ,Sad News, Dzjaduon’g Dimitri, Wekemeu, and occasionally Mchil would congregate in Frunk’s corner in Longonot 2B and talk over mouthfuls and revise a few episodes of Boondocks.

During those days, if I got a text I knew it was free Dzjaduon’g Dimitri telling me he’ll be running late and asking me to’ catch for him’ two chapatis at the Nyayo mess before the stock got depleted. Then we liked Nyayo mess because the rice was yellower as compared to the others. We naturally assumed then that yellow was the colour of sweetness. And in case were still waiting for Wekemeu to finish an episode that he was always at the verge of finishing, we would order more  chapo and wash it down with free soup freely accorded by our gracious university administration. We called it desert then.

Well , that’s untenable now that my roommate, mzee Byudeh has introduced me into the wonderful world of arega(just ask around in case you don’t know) and Wekemeu now ‘travels’ to school, I’ll get into that story shortly. Sad news as you might be aware is the new Mr. KU and can’t allow his hard earned reputation to be soiled. Imagine if rumor mills has it that he was seen gulping down soup in the students mess. His new status elevates him to the table of men. As for Dzjaduon’g Dimitri, let’s just say that if anybody would like to do a study on the progression of arega addiction and dependency then Dimitri would be your perfect candidate.

Before I forget, I promised you my dear people a story on Wekemeu’s commuter status. This is the guy who invented the only surviving Mase tradition, an ancient tradition called #teamgikosh in the year 2010 as well as contributing several words to the Mase’s dictionary. The tradition is a unique and complex journey that involves waking up at 6.25 am and covering a stretch of about 200 meters in order to catch the 6.30 am train to town. One would wonder how five minutes would be adequate to prepare himself, well it would be if you slept fully dressed .In case you are wondering what was wrong with adjusting the alarm to give adequate time for preparation, here is your answer. The sheer fun of barely making it, the rush of adrenaline, and the joy was fun that couldn’t be traded for anything, not even at the altar of convenience. Yes, and the fact that it provided the founder with a God given opportunity to work out, albeit even for five minutes. 

The catch though was to carry less cash lest one succumb to the impulse to buy what he didn’t really need. In most cases though this intervention didn’t work because of the new Barclays branch in Gikomba. The elite only bank with the elite. Back to Wekemeu, with such achievement, one can drown in his own invincibility. Well if Wekemeu thought he was important, the director accommodations just reminded him how average he is. In all respect though, the fight isn’t over, maybe his good friends Alicia Florick, Danny Crane or Allan Shaw might just unite for him in the greatest legal battle of all time.

I must have mentioned something about Willis House in my piece, the school of men. A description wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the guy Adush Latif Maxcy. If there was a guy who was conspicuous then it was adush. If it wasn’t about his higher than normal melanin concentration then it was his short trousers that were way above the knee. In all fairness, the shorts being provided by the boarding master weren’t tailored for a man of Adush’s physique. Here was a tall form one standing in front of the house assembly giving cover for the naughty guys behind just finishing their loaves or talking about how a madam teacher was really smart that morning, sharing or creating the latest rumor in school.

If there is a reason am mentioning him today is because of his big heart, literally. This abnormality has caused the disruption of normal heart activities and he needs urgent open heart surgery in India and guys are contributing towards this course. For more info check out A Heart for Adush on facebook. We can’t afford to be just friends when there is laughter to be shared or goat to be roasted. We can stand together and be counted, we can choose to remember where we came from and help Adush stay alive. And the great news is that it’s within our powers, it can be done and it will be done. 

Just like we believed we could eat nyama without even having a sufuria or the courage of Wekemeu of  shoving his way  past men who had bricks for biceps cause he was walking alongside me………………and Dimitri………..and the others too.

Barrack obama did it; again…………………………we can too.

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