Showing posts with label Letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Letters. Show all posts

Sunday, 15 January 2017

Open letter to the proponents of Uthamaki

I trust that you are enterprisingly well, in health and business. I am fine too, except that I am heavy with thoughts as we approach the election year. I know you are gathering your number, even from unspeakable places (we’ve heard of your ancestors coming back to vote), as mass voter registration kicks off. That’s not a big deal, for you know the value of numbers.

What bothers me the most is the fact that you are overzealous about the presidency. Why are you are so apprehensive that a leader from another tribe, especially the lake region, may usurp to the presidency? A self-righteous man, of upright moral character doesn’t have a reason to be worried. Kenya belongs to all of us. The recent attempt by the president to alter history of our heroes worries the crap out of me. Tell me, what is it that you are sacredly scared of? Tell me in a language a toddler in your region so understands, that they spew hatred to others.

In all honesty, we love your enterprising spirit. And you, in the numbers scattered all over Kenya, speaks volumes on your role in uplifting and promoting the economy of our beloved country. Your unity as well is what the Luhyas should readily emulate.

Born out of the need to fend off political scavengers, UhuRuto bromance blossomed and strolled to the house on the hill, with their youthful digital swagger and vigour. The duo boisterously claimed that ‘they’ were aiming at locking them out, or rather sought to benefit from their downfall, which brought two fiercely antagonistic tribes together, The Kalenjins and The Kikuyus. Will you stand by this friendship up to 2022 assuming that UhuRuto rides through the NASA storm? Or will your prove that this was just but a friendship of convenience?

As your leaders marshal you to register in mass, does it ever occur to you that, by trying to keep ‘the other’ from ascending to power, you support plunder of public resources? Your leaders exercise blatant disregard for you as lowly, poverty stricken people, brainwashed by Uthamaki bullshit. What do you gain from it? I can bet my ass its nothing, except willfully watching your people die from the biting doctor’s strike, as you proudly exclaim “wacha mtu wetu akule!!” 

I know it’s futile to attempt to make you see beyond your narrow tribal prism. Be glad though that you are not alone in this. You have Kalenjins, the Luos, the Kambas….pretty much everyone is tribal, so much so that Aden Duale can claim that the results of the presidential elections will have been concluded once IEBC releases the voter register in March. But there’s something beyond power that grips you, that blinds you. You need protection from what? Does the constitution favour other tribes that you so crave and need protection from your own?

As a parting shot, we want a Kenya that has equal opportunities for everyone regardless of their ethnic and social backgrounds. We want a Kenya where everyone is united by their unique differences. We want a Kenya where no one is scared if they are doing the right things.

Sunday, 10 July 2016

Of Silly Women Who Think They Are A Gift To The Men

Ladies, picture this. You have brains but you’ve found it irrevocably stressfully to use it. As you walk around town you spot a woman in a sleek German ride or the famous Range Rover (Sports or Vogue). You want to be her. You discard reason (the little you had) and write a silly post about how Kenyan men are silly, thinking they are the sort of gifts to you. The truth is we are, some of us aren’t. The ilk you get attracted to doesn’t give you the right to bash the many us that are ideal, the epitome of manly perfection, who understand the position the society bequeaths to them.

Hey lady, don’t blame every other male for your ability to attract semi-men, the men who realized they have dicks like, ‘look here mate, I got a dick! What am I supposed to do with it?’ and his mate as dickly as he is replies, ‘women. Use it on women, they like it.’ Bingo! Off he goes thinking it’s the gift to you, brainless woman. He learns what you love the most, easy life. He gives it to you. Sooner you are complaining of how he treats you when you are the one who did set the standard. And of course he doesn’t recognize you in the morning and he surprised just as you permanently are. Don’t blame us.

The modern woman. God apparently created you when in high spirits. And most importantly when in mood for modification. What an arse!!! The modern woman goes about mocking God in every conceivable way. If God was in high spirits, He would have conjured up that, in the near future you might be in need of red lips, large behind, flawless eye brows and very good Brazilian hair (you love your hair so much because you aren’t smart enough to love something interesting)

Truth, the modern times do not favour a woman suckling a clan of babies. She doesn’t belong to the kitchen anymore. But that doesn’t mean that as a man you have to depend on Kenchic or Pizza Inn for a living. Real men eat real food cooked straight from the farm. In deed times are modern. The measure of man is in his ability to provide for his family. The greatest of them needs is financial. The rest is almost miscellaneous. What can true love from a poor man do? It can’t feed you. It can’t clothe you. Neither can it educate the children. The modern woman wants a loaded guy, who will foot the bills when need arises. The modern woman is jealous of her hard work but she wants to be treated equally to men. What a mirage!!

The downside of these modern women is, she so used to board room wars that she transfers that to her home, to her husband. Truth is, for her success, there is another woman who takes over her wifely duties, sometimes to the extreme. May be these kind of women don’t need men, but would surely want them from time to time.

Sunday, 30 March 2014


When we were growing up, we were told all manner of do’s and don’ts. I bet most of them curtailed our freedom but nevertheless we adhered to those which we could and endured the flogging from those we never mastered the art of living by them. We grew up anyway.
Many years down the line we are still advised. Everybody older than seems to be so generous with advice, even our friends with their handful experience unashamedly tell us what we should or not. The one bunch of people whom I can fathom their advice is a stranger. You meet one along the street and he feels he should tell you that you are not dressed well, or that hair needs to be trimmed. If you dish out some dollars I would mind visiting a barber shop.
The urge to snarl at them gets the better of me, almost always. It has never sounded appealing at all, no matter how wrong I am. I am not at home and this is the only chance to act weird, be wild and exclusively from the reptilian watch of my parents. He should just understand from the look on my face that I am not hearing a damn thing he is saying.
There are some types of warning or advice that only fuel the urge to find out what is being denied over the other side. The lesson is never learned from mere hearsay, it must be experienced in order to be regarded lesson. The only shield is the hope that it won’t be too late to learn, as things may at times turn out be.
I always laughed when our high school teachers claimed that we were having the last free advice as we neared the end of our stay there. Who loved their advice anyway? I quizzed my friends and were all glad that those boring pieces of advice would finally trickle down the gutter. Those morning assemblies were a source of worry to some chaps whose concern was never near cleanness. Every day they were dirty from Monday to Friday, week in week out, for four good years. And they knew about it. Does that person need to be advised, really?    
Enter the real world. Folks went to display their prowess in leaking pieces of useless words in the name of advice. The respect for their age stifles a barrage of expletives. I hear pointing out weaknesses and dismiss them at the instant their lips stop moving.

I have never needed advice. i might need when my atm card fails but for the moment am content with what I have accumulated in the years that I have lived through observation. If you come with your advice, I might listen and even nod in approval but deep down me am saying ‘HOLY SHIT.’