Archive for Opinion
Brand Jamesy: Part 7; Clothes, Milk, Chicken and Beer. No VAT, No China.
Not many people in this world will tell you they know what Mandarin is. And I am sure those reading this will want to think I misspelt ‘tangerine’. Well I didn’t. But Mandarin is the most popular language in the world, let alone the exact meaning of the word ‘popular’ in this context. Again, very few people know that there is no language such as Chinese. And I will let you find out the other language spoken in China, apart from the Mandarin, as I am clearly not interested and in any case, it would just make my sentence unnecessarily long even though this decision has resulted in a sentence quite as long as the one before this full-stop. So that’s how it goes. But we all know what China is, and where it is (except of course if we are American).
Well, I don’t know what China is. There has been an outrage of thoughts of sorts in my SB (Spongebob) head regarding this topic. Before we proceed, I do wish to baptise you into the SB head context. Here we go: Rumour has it that I am a born genius as hinted by the size and shape of my head. That I am so scientific I have my own concepts not least of which are those of gravity. That my head has a gravitational pull that resolves that founded by Mr Newton in conjunction with an apple so much such that I’d make Newton’s apple float in the air. That some people have nicknamed my SB head the ‘Theatre of Dreams’ while others, the ‘Alias Arena’. Whereas I can’t confirm the fact that I produce echoes when I think, I want to assure you that I think all the same; I think thoughts.
And I have been thinking that China, whatever it is, is taking over the world with only two people excluded, me and Elton John. (Those who thought I would never share a sentence with the E.J., you were wrong, I just did it so, take that!) A quick scan around reveals that almost everything, be it American or British or nothing has Chinese roots.
- Made in China
It’s like they have bought the rights of everything (including nothing) that is ever manufactured, be it spoons, phones, hair-straighteners, American flags, African jewellery or British footballs. Actually, nothing has Chinese roots, but all those things that possess a ‘Made in China‘ tag have roots from all over the world. They are a Chinese edition of the real thing at unreal prices and unreal quality – whatever the word real and its opposite mean to you. One thing that lets me and Elton John off the hook is that China could not figure out a Christmas cracker crown (or hat – fit your favourite word here, in context of course) that actually fits around my SB head without breaking. And for Elton John, they could not figure out how to plant a seedy thing inside the man and ooze a tiny human out of him without needing a woman at one point. Take that China!
Maybe they will have the last laugh after all, especially with VAT rising (actually being risen) to 20% meaning that I have to pay 6p extra for a pint of beer even though I don’t like beer. Just for the record, I am gonna go ahead and embarrass whoever is behind the VAT increase scam by switching to the limited edition Fo-Si-Ta-Si (a remake of Fosters) beer made in China and keep my 6p. Or I may want to keep it local and make my own beer. Or maybe not drink beer, I don’t like it after all…Whatever my SB head decides, the rest of you should ensure you don’t buy anything at all! Be creative, imaginative and innovative and grow your own cotton and sew clothes, grow your own cows and milk them, grow your own chicken and slaughter them and last and not least, grow pineapples and ferment them to make your own beer. You only need clothes, milk, chicken and beer to lead a decent life; regardless of the size or shape or nickname of your head.
It is Brand Jamesy, Baby!
©Jamesy 05/01/2011
Brand Jamesy: Part 6, My Buckingham Palace Christmas Job
Jungle bells and jingle bells and folks having their grannies for dinner and others having just turkeys for the same. Christmas. I love the taste of Christmas and all the stuff that comes with it; that puts in a brave fight to defy description. Here then, is an attempt at describing things beyond description or may be describing things that are beyond description on (and results of) my escapades during my Buckingham Palace Christmas Job.
- Buckingham Palace
How many are there that know that Queen Victoria served for a period of 62 years – the longest anyone in that family tree has ever done? And how many know that the current Queen (I have forgotten her name) is just 4 years away from breaking that record? Hold on, one more question: How many know that the line of succession was completely changed when King Edward – whose seven names I remember (Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David) ludicrous - decided to marry an American double divorcee? Thanks to Christmas, I am about the only bozo who can rack this off their memories. And if there exists any other, then I am one of the few (Just a little disclaimer – don’t want anyone reading this to have their self esteem dwarfed!) You will be pleased to know that Edward’s brother (George) then took the mantle completely changing the line of succession and thus allowing the current Queen (whose name I still can’t remember) to have a go and keep it in her descendants.
Christmas is a time when you dig deep beyond the depths to do something different or differently. I personally like sitting in a corner and bursting my pimples. I also like daydreaming and not paying attention to anything else but the off-key sound of madness between my earlobes. Sometimes, I like to sleep and avoid talking to people or animated objects in my dreams in the name of sleep-talking. When I can bear it, I like to eat a lot of starchy food until my system demands a pit latrine – in which I, in conjunction with gravity, have devised an efficient way of balancing the act for maximum accuracy. And when I do finally talk, I mumble in such a way that my fart would be the more pleasant of the two. While people like History and others burn their midnight oil making love (whatever that involves) and being loved, I simply like my Maths and Computing. Those close enough to have heard me talk will agree with the rest of the world that hasn’t heard me talk that I potentially would do with filling my head before empting my mouth. So this Christmas, I set out to fill my head.
Trampling upon the cemetery (of those that have gone dust-to-dust from the beginning of timed time) in search of knowledge, wisdom, madness or anything different from my normalcy aforementioned, I then came across things that automatically qualify as bizarre in my reckoning. While some farmers painted their sheep blue just to distinguish them from snow (stupid, right?) was well within my standards of normal things, finding out about the head of the family down at a home called Buckingham Palace in a city known as London could well have landed me in prison – if I were the judge and my norm was the law.
During Christmas, we break from the norm and rest, eat, drink, tell jokes and stay with those we love. But these being the norm to me, I don’t break the norm to rest, I fast on food for a few minutes, I drink but water, I become boring and last and least, look for someone to love. Yeah yeah, after you are done having a great festive season, please put in a word for me for my next year’s Christmas Job at your sister’s.
Promoting Brand Jamesy
©Jamesy 27/12/2010
Brand Jamesy: Part 5, Stop Making Noise
I am a noisemaker. If you never knew it, now you know. And if you knew it, I am a silent noisemaker. I can carry twigs and chant names, and swear and curse, and walk, and talk my voice hoarse. I can protest and sing songs with political inclinations greater than angle theta. And I can flip my lid on the reasons why a government as conservative as it may claim to be in the comfort of its bedroom, may then wake up one day and decide to escalate the fees that genuine students want to pay to earn a genuine education. I can point fingers and swear to reduce the pain and the heartache, and I can even shut up and be the old introvert. But I ain’t gonna do any of that. Not now. 
I am taken aback by the quantities of skirted people who certainly look the best catch. Everyone has their hormonal pipettes and mine is not faulty. Given the necessary upthrust (ie skirted people), I can certainly sip my hormonal levels accurately to the tabulated levels. Of late, I have not only been able to suck that liquid up my criss-crossed system, but also achieved levels that I can comfortably tell you, are not of the accuracy that normalcy may dictate. Some people (ie. me, in the mirror) look at me and wonder whether I should be an actor whose everyday life is one big rom-com with more of the second part than the first. And memories come to mind.
You see, I never told you one thing that I believe. I am gonna tell you in the next sentence and the rest of this paragraph. I believe that many of my ‘close’ friends are not normal. Regardless of the amount of normalcy that is contained in me, I don’t think anyone should think I am abnormal for undergoing heartaches as a result of social repulsion from an approached skirted person. Worse still, from the skirted person in question. To defend my case, it takes a big heart to see someone beyond their face-value, and it results in ages of a throbbing heart to be put off in a sentence that would conveniently be ‘f**k off’ if we didn’t know more than just the two words. I really am not gonna mince my words on this one, but you know what; life’s a big female dog that’s gonna suck itself out of you any time you give it a chance. If out of the bushes comes someone who understands your value and appreciates it, even if out of your own bushes cannot come equal appreciation, at least don’t send them back to the bushes with a ghaslty verbal. Humans have six senses, and that of sight is just one of them. Appreciate those with evidence of usage of all the senses they have got. Excitement is not = happiness!!
Phew! That’s off my chest. But I am still p*ssed off! I get very emotional when yanking weeds out of the heads of some people. And sometimes I wish that I would be given a guest appearance in Shangri-La so I can go and apply my experience of human psychology in creating a human being update. I believe Human 2.0 should have an artificial intelligence that reminds them that they are not vending machines. I put it in, I pull it out. DEAD!
Last and least, all girls are beautiful. I just don’t know why?
Promoting Brand Jamesy
©Jamesy 17/12/2010
Brand Jamesy: Part 4, I am Very Normal
Ever wondered why when you make eye contact with people especially in Britain, they smile at you? Well, it is because of culture. After 4 years of research, I am pleased to announce the results of my findings on this experiment. A lot of energy went into it including reverse psychology. This finding has prompted a new research into the reasons that make me ‘normal’. Well, you may think I am by default normal, but I am actually very normal. 
In my previous life, I was a prince – but no one knows this, so don’t tell anyone. The few who may know probably can’t recognise me and I am not fazed, I am not dazed, I am not hazed. Being underrated is a very familiar position and very comfortable for that matter. There is a lot of fuss around, much of which I like diving into. But when I want my sleep, my whatever-my-favourite-food-is, my football, my Southern Comfort (you didn’t see this coming, did you?), my woman (laugh out loud, in fact, choke on a bar of chocolate), my poetry, my puzzles, my music and last and least (don’t tell her), my mother, I cannot stomach the weight of a pregnant world hurling verbals at me or breathing their breaths onto, or worse, into me. At such times of my life-cycle, I like to just exist and I am very sure I can just exist. You can call me a larva if your former Biology teacher has a money-back guarantee on your school fees (read this as, they did a good job).
Being very normal requires that you often use brackets to synthesize information for your audience. Sometimes it even prompts an ‘open bracket’ and a ‘close bracket’ during conversations with the wide world, something that actually is part of me by induction. It also helps you see that all women in the world are very beautiful. Like the three seated to my left as I write this. Stunning! But the catch is that, you cannot recognise a single one out of all of them as being beautiful. Surely, if this is not a symptom of very-normalcy, nothing else is.At the same time, it also makes you see men as very handsome, while at the same time barring you from being gay. (Put exclamation here)
If there was a technical error in the human-making factory somewhere in Nirvana and I was fortunately born a woman, that would be the best thing to have happened to the world after the current me. The first item on my mind, right from emerging out of teenage (I guess it couldn’t happen earlier – am African mark you), would be to flaunt my backside. I am assuming I’d be having any although during the few times that I have caught myself noticing my fleshy vertebrate parts, I have reckoned that if my gender was any different, I’d be heavily endowed in that sector. So, I’d give people a 3D movie without the 3D glasses to compensate for my inability to see my nether-couple as often as I would (if they were in front of me, say). I’d make maximum use of tight dresses just for the heck of it. Having been a man (I think) in this life, I know the whistles that accompany a majestic her-majesty when she passes by with nicely shaped flesh swinging like a pendulum (see your Physics notes).
But I actually love people. I love people although it is not very clear that I can work with them, or them with me. I enjoy being hated because that is the only way of getting some enemies on board. The thinking here is that the people who love me actually hate me, or worse still, they don’t know why they love me. I can assure you the feeling of being hated by a person who loves you is much worse than that of being hated by people who actually hate you. Being the person who looks at the problem and possible solutions, I can extrapolate that the best solution here is to get as many people hating me as I possibly can. Very normal that.
Yesterday I met a lady who smiled at me for about a mile before we actually met. My visibility is like 5 Metres but I could feel the smile. And I really was tired of smiling and so I wasn’t gonna do my usual snap smile. It didn’t work. Arousing is the word. Her very normal height, her shapely chin, her gibbous smile, her fibrous hair and least, her half-brushed teeth forced a genuine smile out of me. In fact, for some moment, I forgot about the Rubik’c cube I was trying to solve (actually unsolve) and looked over my shoulder to return the ‘hi’ she had propagated my way without my immediate notice.
Only if the rest of the world smiled at me… I would smile back, albeit at the feeble effort with which they may have afforded their teeth a wash.
Promoting Brand Jamesy
©Jamesy 03/12/2010
Brand Jamesy: Part 3, I Talk English, But NOT in English!
Once upon a time, there lived a man called Dr. Johann Ludwig Krapf,
Ludwig Krapf
a German in his own right but employed by the English to go to the Kenyan coast and translate the bible. Into Swahili. Such men as Johann brought to my forefathers what would later corrupt my authentic native tongue (or tongues) under the catalytic influence of Queen’s English. So the story goes.
I was born 141 years after Johann’s arrival, into a community of people wielding the Luhya language threateningly at me and speaking gibberish. Before I noticed it, I had been immersed into it and become a Luhya.
Then society brought the so called Swahili along, through interaction with those in my age boat, who could not make out a word I said nor I theirs. And so I learnt Swahili. But my dear mama, having gone through the centres established by Johann’s mates, commanded me to call her ‘mummy’ and also took me to a thing called ‘school’ where they tied another thing called ‘disk’ around my neck and forced me to speak ‘English’. You should not be surprised to hear that ‘disk’ was typically the skull of an animal, or in it’s absence, the largest born some scavengers could garner within the precincts of the so-called ‘school’. At least you are only reading this, I carried this thing as a necklace quite frequently for a few years.
Those days, they called me ‘Billy’, a short-form of ‘Jubilee’ which was my mom’s joke at her doing the Fergie time thing of ‘the match doesn’t end until we score’. So picture Billy carrying a kg of a stinking animal skull around his neck, with a dictionary of two pre-loaded languages inside him, and being forced to install yet another language – ‘English’.
I learnt, anyway. Going through those morning and evening strokes of the cane, crying my throat sore, hiding in a maize plantation on a few occasions to evade some strokes and other stuff that came along,…I made it. In fact, so good have I been that I can spell my name backwards while on a full tank of Bacardi (37.5%). I rest my case.
And so, my learning of English has not been a pleasant one. And to cap it all, the addition of German to make it 4 languages in one head isn’t something my neighbours in the Kingdom are used to doing.But I refuse to learn ‘Sign’ language as a remedy for not being bothered to add to this, I must boast here, rather large dictionary of English language, different English accents to suit my listening audiences. I refuse on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday …trusting you to know the other days of the week and complete that would-otherwise-be-long sentence for me.
So when I speak, don’t ask me to talk in English, but rather, listen to the Queen’s English. Of course coming out of a head preloaded with Luhya and Swahili and infected with German.
Promoting Brand Jamesy
©Jamesy 27/11/2010
Brand Jamesy: Part 2, Dear God
Dear God,
I would like to apologize that due to unforeseeable extenuating circumstances, I have been unable to use the software you downloaded and installed inside me. I have been running procrastination operating system pregnant with trojan horses from malicious vendors disguised as friends. My anti-destruction has turned into a distraction especially with the noises that have been ever-present in the nightmares I have of late been characterised with. As a result, I have found solace in Mark Z. – the male goddess of socials and togetherness, who has promised that every minute I spend with him will be free of charge at least as far as I am concerned.
But sir, I am afraid that the goddess of love knows his tracks and how to make a dollar and another. And I, though finding solace, have been unable to reboot, recharge my batteries and press Controlled Alternative Repeat in order to clear my lines. It is in this regard, your excellency at the highest Helpdesk, that I contact you seeking your unrivalled consultation.
As a matter of fact, my friends have let me know that you have recently acquired yourself a brand new copy of the Samsung Galaxy tab to add to your nano ipod video ediion. About the former, if this helps my case, I would like to let you know that you could catch the latest football news and even watch video highlights by installing the ESPN application. You may be interested to know that the first 3 months of your subscription will be free of charge after which they will require of you £4 or something every month. But since you are the King of Kings, the Footballer of Footballers and the Provider of Providers, I am sure they can give you a deal like say, instead of charging you money, they could get a blessing in disguise.
And lastly, about the ipod, I would like one last favour. Could you please add me to your playlist?
With Kind regards
Promoting brand Jamesy @http://www.jf32.com/
©Jamesy 20/11/10
Brand Jamesy: Part 1, Poundland Tights
I consider it courageous for a woman to don a pair of tights with more holes than cloth material. And what I just saw put proof to my Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious theory that after all, I have got some dressing sense. It is quite possible to see me in socks advertising the word ‘Tuesday’ on a Friday, despite the obvious (you may think) hint that ‘Tuesday’ means, ‘wear me on Tuesday’. But those socks will not have a single hole in them, no they won’t.
Poundland
Poundland is a shop across town, that sells stuff for one pound only, at the expense of a manual, something that may be really detrimental when it comes to hairdryers. The latter always seem to come with an additional accessory: fire-fighters. But I would, if I had courage of equal measure to my dear sister (I am very polite, here) remind her that for a fare of £3, she could get herself to poundland and back, bringing home with her a brand new pair of £1 tights, whose use by date would be that particular night. Makes Mathematical sense, completely does.
Iam an MSc. student these days, you see. I am a really busy man who has no time to say/write nonsense. But somehow, I always get into the swing of throwing one or two words around, having a go at people I see, those I know and those I care not a single (place your favourite word here) about. Recently, someone had a go at me concerning the aforementioned socks issue. This time, I had worn half a pair of ‘Wednesday’ socks and another half a pair of ‘Friday’ socks on a Monday. But they didn’t seem to care that despite two tries, I still didn’t get the day of the week right. They cared more of the fact that I had two different socks on. What does it matter, if I had got an exactly similar pair at home? See, common sense.
So twitter has taken to me like a duck to water. I have been tweeting away all my love and sweat and no doubt, I have managed to make twitter esquire addicted to me. I love technology, something that is contrary to the expectations of the world that at least understands my name, but calls me ‘Jaymo’ or however they spell their version of my name. It bothers me that this world whose cosmology I cannot fathom thinks that I am rather vat ze German vould call ‘altmodisch’ – (and we’ll still have a few of these citizens asking, ah, what is altmodisch?). Google. I got swagger, I got so much swagger like a saint. Like, I don’t know what.
Last and least, I got the honour of sharing a dancefloor with a few Chinese buddies. The sentence afore would be almost unreadable to my British audience for some good reason. One of my facebook friends (I am sure he won’t read this note and so he’ll never find out that I wrote about him) asked me upon hearing this story: “How do you remember people as being Chinese?” Surely!
More to follow – promoting brand Jamesy @http://www.jf32.com/
©Jamesy 19/11/2010
Immigration Cap Crap
Theresa
Well, (Home Secretary) Theresa May did as the Tories promised and went ahead to introduce an interim measure to curb the growing numbers of immigrants into the country. As a matter of fact, the government is planning to introduce a set number for non-EU immigrants in April 2011 and at the moment, they are working hard to ensure that there is no surge in numbers of immigrants who are alarmed by this news, at least until April 2011.
In the paper, those targeted are skilled and highly skilled workers whereas international students would also be affected come April 2011. Ministers of religion, sporty people et al are exempted.
The Background of All This
From an international student’s point of view, I duly understand the problem and respect the Briton for the love of his country and the safeguarding of the national interest by being conservative. I have come across people who after establishing that I study here go right ahead to ask whether I will be going back home after my studies. Others are constantly complaining about their next door neighbours whose kids are a handful whereas others are complaining that the lack of jobs (which you may think it’s due to the recession) is attributable to non-EU immigrants in the country. The government, on the other hand, thinks there is a strain on Public Services and therefore feels the need to ‘control’ the numbers of those coming into the country; after all, they have to act in keeping with the definition of the word ‘conservative’ from which they derive their title.
As an outsider, I am aware some people are waking up and finding my invasion not really concordant with their culture or natural being. There are lots of restaurants around – and none of them seem to serve fish and chips! There are many football clubs in the country constituting to the best football league in the world. And on the contrary, the English team does not get that far in the world cup. In other words, there is a need for more ‘Home-grown players’ in the Premier league. In short, there is need for control of non-EU professional footballers in the country, Eastern Europeans and the rest of the non-EU contingent in the quest to free up resources for the native Briton.
Missed the Point
What Theresa May introduced on the 28th of June 2010 is a cap to reduce the number of those coming to live in the country by 1,300. As earlier stated, those targeted are Tier 1 (Highly Skilled Workers) and Tier 2 (Skilled Workers) and international students. In 2008, there was a total of 273,610 international students moving into the country. The British economy gets a total of £12bn a year generated from the fees paid by international students. The common man in the street does not know that non-EU international students don’t get loans and bursaries or what have you as do the home students. As such, there is not a justifiable amount of strain that these students cause on the economy nor the Public services. They in fact pay to the last penny of their every minute spent in the country. On the other hand, it is only an imbecile who would think that Highly Skilled workers are not needed in an economy. If one can justify that they possess skills that are on demand in an economy, there really should be no time wasted on drafting such ineffective (if not detrimental) recommendation as the Home Secretary office just did. It is shooting yourself in the foot and completely forgetting who to target.
Take it or Kick it, My Recommendations:
Going through the streets of London or any major city, I would not fail to notice loiters or people that the Briton may refer to as ‘a strain on the economy’. These are the unskilled, the unproductive and criminal minded individuals who are a threat not just to the natives, but also to those who have duly earned the right to be in the country. And shortly put, the government should target such (work out how!). As for Eastern Europeans, these, like the Briton, have a freedom of movement and I don’t see the Tories doing much about that. It may be easier ditching fish and chips for the Kebab. And as for football, do what you may, but the local boys have not been prevented from playing football. They are some of the heavily-pocketed individuals in that sector. So, may be a matter of getting your act together.
These are modern days and the human race is interacting at a very fast pace that sooner or later, there will not be a divide in race. What will be will be.
Jamesy
The Miracle I Wanna See
I prefer writing in verse, but this time I keep it in prose.
What is in it for some of us is a difficult question. Everybody has their own view on life. I personally find it puzzling and one I only know so much about. Yet I choose to control mine the way I want, paying attention to the fact that I may make mistakes in the process. But one thing I know and would like to uphold is the fact that life is full of mistakes and if there be an equal number of mistakes as their is of getting things right, then the more the mistakes I make now, the better.
It is imperative to have an aim in life. This is the reason behind being a little person who can sleep like a baby and dream dreams. Personally speaking, I have been shaped by my past. I embrace every bit of the story of my past, because it is who I am. What I have seen as I grow up has moulded my dreams and made me into what I want to be in the near future.
I have seen and experienced neglect in the society. I have seen motherless children, fatherless children, families without a parental figure – all due to neglect. I have seen lack of responsibility in those that claim to be societal leaders. I have seen hatred, abuse, death of innocent people. I have seen society rotting away to modern ills, corruption, nepotism and enmity. I have grown up seeing and experiencing things I don’t want my young one to see or experience. There are many people out there living miserable lives. And I relate with them because the tear they cry, I have cried and the sorrow they have, I have had. As Morgan Freeman says in the film Bruce Almighty, when we encounter problems, we look up to the sky expecting miracles. We don’t realize that we are the miracles we wanna see. I write this knowing crystal clear the miracles I want. I want these people to laugh the laugh I have laughed and have the smile I have had. I want to be the reason for that. And I want my young ones to see different things, experience a complete life and learn to appreciate everyone the way they are. Whether different in gender or race, physical orientation or beauty, the person one may hate may be the sunshine in another’s eyes, or the moonlight of a little person somewhere.
I want my breath to sustain me until I have seen my miracle happen. And I do not ask much of the world. Just the strength to build and climb the ladder that I may be the one someone looks up to. Whatever happens, I know how to be happy. And I will be.
May We Dwell in Unity, Peace and Liberty
“O God of all creation, bless this our land and nation.”
These are the words of my national anthem, one of the first songs I did memorise many years ago.
Kenyan Flag
I like to think I am proud of my country and I am sure every single one of us is. Nevertheless I do not approve of the channeling of the great minds that the people of the country are so blessed to possess. It is a nation with hardworking people, rich culture and great resources. But I am waiting for that day when I will be proud of my country for the reason of proper utilisation of the great minds and the resources. Let me dwell on the ‘minds’ for now.
It is two years since Kenya shed her blood in avoidable Post-election clashes.
Violence
Whereas we hide behind the phrase ‘The BBC and CNN just picked the bad bits’, it is clear that innocent lives were lost in a battle between two idiots but fought by innocent countrymen. As a common ‘mwananchi’, I went to the polling station and casted my vote according to my democratic rights. A few days later, a fellow Kenyan attacks me with a machete and kills me just because I belong to an ethnic community that one of the two idiots belongs to. Helpless women and children are lynched in a church. Ethnic communities engage each other in a fatal cat-and-mouse duel. Roads are impassable. And the world is tuned to news of horror from a once-upon-a-time beacon of peace. The two men? They continue to sip their cups of tea and lounge with their cigars as the country burns to dust.
That was the first time I shed a tear for my country.
I fail to understand what makes me a bad guy for being born a Luo or a Kikuyu or a Kalenjin – name it all. I fail to understand why one would feel superior to me and elevated to a ‘Killer’ status just because they belong to a different ethnic community. I fail to understand why we stand by bad people with bad actions just because they speak our tongue. I fail to understand why we can be so mean as to choose power at the price of the precious human life.
Disturbing!
I fail to see any sense in either Kibaki or Raila. I don’t care who won the election, for that is immaterial – either way there is no added value. If Kibaki really won it, then he was the people’s choice – the loved one. And he too, loves the people. He is a leader, our President. As a loved one leader -and President – he should have known that safeguarding the life of one of his countrymen is a natural duty. He should have preferred to surrender the mantle. On the other hand, if Raila really won it, he should have known that he was winning it for the people. To safeguard the rights of the people. It is a natural right, that of living. He should have known he was the one loved by the majority and therefore had the obligation of loving them back. Those majority would have still been his follower even if he surrendered the mantle to the incumbent.
But wait a minute, someone is dreaming here. Who can ever surrender any chance to become a President even if it means a few lives (thousands of lives mark you) have to be lost as a sacrifice? Not a Kenyan.
So, the problem is ignorance!
As a Kenyan people, we may be equipped with education stacking millions of Degrees, Certificates and other awards, but we missed the fundamental lesson – How to Live With One Another. We have refused to compare notes with our neighbours Rwanda and borrow a leaf from their magical rise from grass to grace. We continue to choose to be big headed and head in to the exam room unprepared. In there, we are taught by experience that it is not wise to do things this way. We also do appreciate that experience is a fool’s teacher. But as soon as we are out of that exam room, so do we go back to the streets with our big heads, throwing verbal stones at each other and arguing over foolish things.
Kenya needs education.
We need to know that in the eye of the country we are all equal and being as religious a country as we have always been, we need to learn and understand that in the eye of God, we are also equal.
- Hunger
We need to understand that we have no option of taking other people’s lives for their innocence of belonging to particular ethnic communities. We need to learn that we should respect each other and focus our brains towards developing the country, feeding the poor and building the national spirit.
We need to prove to the outside world that we are more than the single story of poverty, AIDS and now Political Unrest that they are used to. We need to appreciate the beauty of the country and go out and make it even more beautiful. We need to be proud of our ethnic backgrounds BUT at the same time respect other people’s inclinations. We need to know that the world’s eyes are on us – because everyone knows we are better than we are currently displaying.
Raila & Kibaki
In view of this, we need to take all criticisms positively and start rebuilding the lost glory. Politically, we need to get rid of these idiots and their affiliates.
Above all, the few of us who were lucky to grow up in a generation where the world had changed to a heterogeneous society with peoples from all walks of life should refuse to be dragged into this same 1960 think process. We should know the country is bigger than each of us and that every one of us matters.
Let us take the mantle.
Simba