Down,down the memory lane

There are those people you meet at a crucial stage of your life that you’ll probably never get to meet again. People who imparted majorly on a certain stage of your life that in pursuit of higher education or ‘greener pastures’ you didn’t hesitate to shake off. Others though you just had to let go to create room for other more exciting or necessary individuals.

Is Mzee Varaq suddenly turning philosophical? Maybe. Yesterday I met my long lost friend Dan Robert. We happened to have gone through St Josephs Combined Academy together just a year past the new millennium. We happened to be among the first students when the school was started in 2001. We broke into pearls of laughter when we remembered our lunch for the first week was mkate and soda madiaba madiaba. That was not just ‘food has passed here’. It was a big deal then.

Back then it dint have a postmodern hall like I hear it has today, Friday entertainment wasn’t digital but consisted of senior girls singing beautiful praise songs with amazing voices and the library want the huge structure it is today but just a tiny shelf in the principal’s, sorry head teacher’s office.

I hear now it is a national outfit that receives students, sorry pupils, from even abroad. Don’t get ahead of yourself. By abroad here I don’t mean Yunaired states or Cambodia, that’s not totally impossible though, I mean our local USA, Ugenya Siaya, and Alego. Which is still abroad after all it meets the bare requirements of the oxford definition of abroad-

v  the presence of an international airport

v  Presence of an international lake

v  Presence of a parallel national government headed by a de facto supreme leader, baba

v  Parallel constitution ,flag and national anthem

v  A national army- K’Ogalo Defense Forces

Sorry I got a little off track. He reminded me of my favorite cooks Kokal and Fuony. Even back then the supreme position of arega in life was undisputed. Kokal was my favorite because he knew who the ‘wazito’ were. Oh yea, David Bradley was mzito even then .In case I lost you back then he wasn’t mzee Varaq .That’s a long story I might blog about it next time, maybe. Now about Kokal, he could serve his people in larger plates. Sometimes he could ask us to remain behind after the others had served for refilling. In exchange for this measure of generosity, we gave him bars of soap etc that remained after a hard semester, sorry again, a hard term’s work. Being that cleanliness was not my forte then; they used to be quite a stack and in certain cases homemade mandas or chapat to show appreciation.

Too bad the administration got wind of this unholy alliance and Kokal had to pay the ultimate price. In his place they brought Fuony, an excellent chef who had interesting stories to narrate to an attentive audience. He said he used to cook for Jimmy-that senator from Siaya county of Nyanza republic. Our brain not fully developed then we couldn’t ask him why he stooped to our level then. Instead with gusto, listened to how he had been to Israel and Canada among other nations of the world. He looked the part, he was immaculately dressed for a cook and his huge size further lent his story some credibility. With a man like Fuony it was difficult to buy his friendship with a bar of soap. So we bid our time until we had something to trade. Everybody it seems has a price, it’s just important to figure out what it is.

Well now Fuony is the mayor of my town and every time I look at him am reminded that this nation is a nation of endless possibilities. You just need hunger, drive and with a little bit of luck you’ll get there.

I’m highly nostalgic when I remember the special days that were Friday for omena and Sunday evening for rice. I can’t really remember the rest of the meal but I’m sure my friends Dan, Eddy, Oduori, Isaac not Hassan Njoroge, might remember.

However, the school wasn’t of people getting their way all the time as might have erroneously been implied. There were hard moments, moments that you just look back to and wonder, “did I really pass through that?” I remember the head teacher then, I hear he’s still the guy at the hem waking us up at four am to go and learn the reasons for the failure of the Samori Toure’s resistance or the path that was followed by the long distance traders across the Sahara from Gao, Timbuktu, Jen, Wallata before the normal classes begun at five. For that we called him Timbuktu and later it was shenglized to Ambuko. It’s strange that I remember my class seven GHC up to now though I can’t recall much of the Immunology I did last semester. Chinua Achebe might have responded by saying how the standard seven of those days was better than the Cambridge of today.

The memory that is likely to be etched in my mind the longest is that of ‘kupanda pikipiki’. Now kupanda pikipiki doesn’t mean what your Swahili teachers have taught you all along. It means to climb into a locker to receive the best of the best (viboko).Back then any reason was sufficient, be it getting to class late, getting 96% instead of clearing everything in mathematics, not paying attention, walking aimlessly to another class, not spreading bed etc. You won’t even think about looking at a girl twice or writing those funny funny letters, even imagining it was capital offence. The school always knew, never mind that you just held hands briefly in the comfort of the dark behind the school canteen. Back then the phrase even walls have ears was truest. They might have even had eyes. Woe unto you if your letter of immorality and gross decency was discovered like it happened to someone I know.

I remember there was this time my name was called in the assembly in connection to gross indiscipline. You can’t believe what I did, I said am a jatieko. Now jatieko simply means finisher. To the administration that was a crude, insensitive remark and it got me a date with the motorcycle. For that I will always remember a young lady by the name of Cyprian. I think I spent the rest of my life there resenting her but hey, it wasn’t her fault .She was just being a good girl reporting a bad guy.

But it wasn’t all gloom and routine. There were moments when we had to beat steel cans and metallic chairs to chase away Nyawawa that were believed to transverse the skies at night sometimes calling people by names. For this reason nobody answered when they were called at night lest you be Nyawawa’s forced visitor forever. Looking back I think those little boys and girls were just scared to be out of the safety their home probably for the first time.

alumni in a reunion party

Back then I wasn’t the hockey maestro you see in your sports newspapers now, I was more like David the drama king. I remember being the lead character in the play, The New Era and also narrating the oral narrative, the painter alongside Bob Bobilaz whom I have not seen or talked to since 2004 …..Too bad I had to sacrifice that ambition for other important use of my time. Who knows I could have been the one asking the president to tweet me yawa…..

All in all, that childhood innocence, the innocent friendships that we built, is all I look back to most and thank this school for.

N oh if you were wondering why my kiswahili is that good,u just have to ask John Juma,yea the one you know,he taught us misemo ya kutumua katika maandishi mufti ya insha faridi

Loud yet silence

The young innocent girl grimaces
In one phase her face forms into a knot
her once strong presence felt not
whoever replaces her here would get a note


Her face is forlorn
Damaged too is her colon
her heavy linen soaked in blood
Her vagina oozing more like a flood

Her eyes surveys the tin shack
The look on her quack takes her aback
He's swinging on the rickety chair
calming his fidgety hands with smoke


The sooty ceiling stares stubbornly back at her
she remembers bootie hanging got her here
Daktari's wide eyes give him away
it's clear he too knows no way

Berryl the daughter of a priest
swollen like yeast?
they would take her as a bitch
who saw morals as kitch

The vaginal opening is sore
The hangers it seems got to her core
the fear of shame
her lame blame

The little lass looks at the glass
nothing much to reflect on
Wishing she could switch like bleach
The tears hurt, the tears flow


©Mzee Varaq

posted from Bloggeroid

The guy I know

There's a guy I know
He's spotting a glow
With you he's hoping to flow
His beak though is kinda slow


There's a girl his eyes see
He's hoping to stick to her like flea
She's adorning a brown leather coat
he's hoping he can play in her court


He cant think of a tactic
He's thinking of an antic
before he gets frantic
And his desire turns to lactic

The guy I know aint sly
The girl he sees is fly
The guy I know is looking for a sign
that to him duties assign

posted from Bloggeroid

Room 13

If there’s a room that will remain eked in my memory for the longest of times then room 13 of New Seven Stars, Nyeri would be it. Am not of course putting down room 235 Mabibo Hostel, Dar Es Salaam University or a room in KU sharing the same number. I won’t of course say where knowing too well that you guys pay your semesterly subscription fees to #teammafisi. I wont talk about that Mabibo story since it taught me kuishi in Dar. People say ‘omera this is Nairobi’ but I think the residents of Dar with all of their ustaarabu should be given much more respect.

Am not of course saying that Mwas wa Ngara or Oti wa Gaza is any less of a threat but as opposed to the sheer militant nature of Nairobi criminals, the Dar ones are like the rat that licks you and soothes you before biting you and soothing you again especially if you ate Kamongo and refused to wash your hands. I know wherever he is my grandfather is glad am doing a good job of educating people on the various diverse types of fish that are readily available in Kisumo International City(soon not Kenya).

Back to Seven Stars, it’s not such a posh hotel; in fact compared to others it cannot fit the profile of a Luopean resident for a week. For that I wish to say sorry to my community who expects a lot from their son. In my defense however I wish to restate that after hanging around with Wekemeu a lot am kinda getting influenced negatively. Am looking into the terms of our association and if it causes more friction with my Luopean calling you can be sure who’s going to be sacrificed.It's not like the hotel was that bad, to their credit they had hot water and I know my friend Ragen  aka baba aka jakom aka thura aka Jaghetto aka mtaka yote would not forgive me if I didn’t mention that they had stunning Nyeri women who served as waiters.

 If I were to use basic anatomy I would describe them as fully rounded in the regions proximal to the pelvic girdle, contrary to popular belief that great ventral view is only restricted to Adhis and ilk. These ladies local shilling could compete favorably against the Kisumunian dollar. Needless to say, that extra responsibility behind needed a firm dorsal load around areas proximal to the chest area  to sustain internal body balance  .Lest I overdo and lose my loyal readers  who only draw graphs and analyze them for 70 marks, I will stop there.On second thought maybe I should say it in a jargon they understand best; they had the perfect curve. For the record I dint mention the economics people, I don’t want to lose that vote rich constituency when I'll be vying for Sec Gen next semester.

If you ask any random 500 students who have been to Nyeri courtesy of Kenyatta University, about 95% of them would not want to go back there. While they may differ in the reasons advanced, they are in consensus that Nyeri town is expensive in terms of accommodation, the food is too average, the weather is very erratic and unreliable-you can’t even rely on the weather forecast on your Smartphone to predict whether it’s going to rain or the sun is going to come out guns blazing, the streets are filled with death merchants in the form of careless pikipiki drivers who flout every ink of traffic rules, they got no serious supermarkets like some city I know just to mention but a few of the problems it poses to local tourists. 

If you asked me last year whether I wanted to go to Nyeri again you could have probably gotten a flat no and even more bulkier explanations than the ones listed above .Ask me today and I would embrace the opportunity with gusto. In case Matolo is reading this gusto doesn’t have anything in common with Justo the vulture. 

It’s not that the accommodation rates suddenly got waived by the Jubilee government or Mama Oliech gave them some basic culinary lessons in the preparation of fish, or the raw pikipiki drivers finally went to Heltz and miraculously got the much needed safety knowledge. It’s not even that baba finally decided to open a franchise of Kisumu Mattresses in this town to give the Kasturis and the Mathais that close their doors at 1830 hours a run for their money.

By now you must be wondering what could have redeemed this city, sorry town in a matter of months. It’s Soko Mjinga! This market like the name suggests reduces you to a foolish person literally. Foolish in the sense that it’s addictive, you go there for no apparent reason. All you needed is someone to say,”twende Soko Mjinga” and just like that you are off. The say all kinds of wares and for those of us who haggling is a hobby we had a field day especially after hours of posing serious  research questions to respondents who consider Kiswahili a foreign language. My most famous conquest would be to talk down the price of a leather belt from the 1500 to 300.I hope you’ll understand if I don’t mention the currency just so that I don’t irk my community any  further.

But one thing that am more likely to remember with Soko Mjinga is the idea that it gave me that I can be a ladies bag model. Sounds funny right? You can ask Cindy or Mercy or KUCU mum, they’ll tell you am good at that job. Just in case this degree thing doesn’t work out I know Gucci, not the person, Louis Vuitton and other serious fashion houses would be greatly honored to have me. Am sure even Mchil who previously was the tougher man, if he ever got time away from his official Inda business to review his hobbies in his CV, I won't  be surprised if he would include shopping. I can see that face.Yea, I know, soko Mjinga has that effect on people.

varaq the bag model

Another reason why I would fondly remember Nyeri is club kickers. It’s not what you think. We went there purely for serious health research. I had to put that at the very beginning, just for the record, just in case my pastor is reading this. The truth is that karaoke has never been this fun. It reminded me of those Westlife songs we used to sing along to with my sister Elvira. I remember singing from coast to coast word by wide without looking at the teleprompter. Trust my super brain to recall that for that long. As you can see am a multitalented guy. Maybe I should be a singer, what can be so heard about it especially if you are backed with such a smooth soprano voice for singing and a deep masculine base for talking? If you are a doubting Thomas again you can ask the aforementioned people and this time include Octo…..Joh...and his lovely lady Carol.

Varaq,McWho? and Octo

You must be wondering why my title is room 13 and i'll briefly describe just why. If ever walls were to get ears, then the residents and the pirates of this room, especially the pirates should be very very worried. Away from the formal class setup, people opened, talked and shared some of their worst fears. It was also nice to get the ladies inner perspective of things. If I won’t remember Nyeri 2 for anything else, I will remember it for the late night class conversations. I will remember it in that I learnt that perception is everything in a world where there’s no fixed form of reality. I learnt that kindness should not exceed the arm length or a smile exceeds the teeth. A hug shouldn’t linger longer unless you are sending a message and I learnt the most crucial art of war from philosopher Cindy that I just had to share with you; 

”never be afraid to be the bad guy sometimes, a little NO won’t make you evil, instead it will earn you respect …."

You still don’t understand why my title is room 13.What can I say, guilty, I knew the title would appeal to the perv…in you.

Sorry coudn't write longer,exams are around the corner and  I wont want to be a singer or a bag model if I can still be Dr Varaq,sounds nicer in the mouth right?

 

Open letter to the president,

Jambo wherever you are and hope this finds you well. You know I didn’t write you this letter just to catch up so I’ll just get cut straight to the point. I know you might not get to read this letter amidst the millions of congratulatory messages pouring in but maybe my friend Goddy will mention it to his MP who’ll mention it to his senator Kipchumba Murkomen, who might bypass a few ranks and mention it to Hon Samoei Ruto who currently is in your favorite people list. I remember when we were young my mother used to give us sweets just so we could take the bitter drugs later. We cried until either we were called “good boy” or better yet given sweets to take off the bitter taste of antibacterial that back then we couldn’t understand just why we had to take in the first place.

Forgive my long analogy, I’m sure you must be wondering what it adds to this letter apart from the obvious bulk. Well wonder no more; I want to give you a bitter drug. I just want you to swallow it. So here’s the lozenge; congratulations sir, you ran an efficient campaign that moved this nation, okay, some corners of it. Nevertheless, you won this election and I believe congratulations are in order.

I was filled with pride when I heard your acceptance speech, it was truly of a statesman and if you meant the words you said and the spaces in between the ink then Kenyans have no reason to be afraid, the supposed impending sanctions notwithstanding.

If the IEBC disputed figures are anything to go by, you garnered 6.1 M votes which translates to slightly just above the 50% mark threshold required by the constitution. What of the other 50% that didn’t vote for you, will you be there president too? No, don’t answer me .I know you’ll just say something politically correct. So just think about it.

Sometimes leadership is not what the constitution entails. Mandate is not got by ‘winning’ an election. Mandate is not even got by an overwhelming majority in an election. It’s not got by attaining the required 25% in half of the counties. That alone ensures you a stint in State House; it doesn’t earn you the awe and admiration of your citizens.

Reaching out to the losers, the 5.3 million Kenyans who thought the nation could do better in the choice of the next CEO of East Africa’s largest economy. That’s why am greatly impressed by the tone of your acceptance speech. Whereas not enshrined in the constitution, humility and grace are far more important than the constitutional thresholds of our presidential requirement. Qualities that you not only have but am impressed you have in abundance. Maybe you aren’t that bad.

By now from my tone I know you are quickly tempted to dismiss me as a CORD sympathizer, an allegation I won’t even attempt to deny. Why disguise my political affiliation? Am among the 5.3 M who loudly made their voice heard by voting for Raila Amolo Odinga. We did so because we believed he was best suited to fulfill our interests. Am I sad we lost? Yes. Am I bitter, no, am writing to you with a clear conscience because just like the 6.1 M who did their constitutional duty and overwhelmingly voted for you, you will be my president too. I need to ,together with my fellow 5.3 M , feel included, not vindicated, celebrated not tolerated, important not accommodated. If you do that you’ll earn my vote. Not in the next election or forward but today. Sio ati mlio wa chura will prevent you from drinking water anyway.

The CORD hierarchy has decided to challenge your election in court. It’s their right, bestowed by the same constitution that you’ll soon pledge to honor and defend. Please don’t see them as villains. Calm your ,supporters ask them to bestow basic human dignity to ‘yule mtu wa vitendawili’ as he has been christened by your party rank and file. That gesture of minding your own business and now ours by extension will earn you trust and support. Something which you don’t have to worry about if your basic desire is just to meet the minimal constitutional requirements to be president. I think you are greater than that. Am hoping you are greater than that.

The campaign period should effectively behind us. There’s of course the basic human inclination to gloat. Say I told you so or even fail to repress the urge to take a quip at the fallen political giants. Please don’t, tell your sycophants that grace in jubilation is a debt you owe to this great nation just so that we can preserve this fragile peace that we enjoy. This I know you’ll do because deep down I believe you have this nation at heart.

Forgive me for writing long, it’s just that I don’t know the next time I will write to you.

Adios President-elect Uhuru Muigai Kenyatta, it still tastes weird in the mouth, not bad, just strange but I know well get there.

Am prepared to make the effort, please make it with me.

May God bless you

May God bless Kenya

Yours faithfully

Varaq Aseda

Kenyan Patriot

The girl I met

There is this girl I know

She has a glow that can blow

No flaw in her flow

She’s a piece of art

I saw her and gave her ma heart

She’s still holding ma proposal like a fart

The girl I know is skeptical

She says my reputation precedes me

She thinks am Lucifer reincarnated

She thinks I see her as a trophy

To be used for my morning coffee

Yet all I want is to lick her like toffee

I can’t wait for me to be hired

Yet she can’t wait for me to get tired

She’s afraid she might get fired

Even though I tell her am deft

She’s afraid our liaison can lead to her and Romeo’s cleft

And leave her bereft