For 'Ugie'

It is belief and courage,

Perhaps folly as well least of all fool hardy,

For moments there are when deem I dead cause you encourage,

Carefree your mantra and method to curious madness,

Trudging on unabated convinced success we shall salvage.

It is love and friendship,

Coupled with gentle whisper of counsel and wisdom,

Still jovial now for sentient is quelled spirit I spied in courtship,

e'en though we indulge comical demand for pamper ... perhaps deeming love to be fun

You, the gentle queen to whom mine heart is drawn to adulation and worship.

We Don’t Care

We Don’t Care

I was at a potential client’s board room a couple of week ago, when I realized from their branding that they were responsible for an advertisement running in Kenya, asking men and women to use condoms when they cheat on their spouses. When I questioned the social impact of such mass communication efforts, their response was that social communication works by way of attracting attention irrespective of the social, economic and political impact. 

I continued to prod much to their now growing annoyance, about the role played by the organizations funding their efforts in the so called revolutions around the world like the Arab Spring and the tensions in Ukraine. The response was quickly spat at me, ‘we don’t care!’ I was asked to recall the advertisement in question which I promptly did. There were smiles across the room, ‘you see since you remember the advertisement, this means we have successfully gotten your attention’ a lady quipped at me. All smug, content and clearly proud of that which allows them to finance their mortgage, I knew I was on a dead end street … rather a dead end to reason.

Four Legs Good

Now I have nothing against condoms, far be it from me to be against that which you can sell to poor folk for ten shillings, then drive off to a five star hotel for a back patting cocktail priced at fifty thousand shillings, but I wonder, does sweetening the poison allow one to evade death? I guess I could also bury my head in the sand and sell clients software riddled with bugs and defective code, then thump my chest in childish defiance and declare, ‘I don’t care!’ You know come to think of it we can have a team of urinating revolutionaries … yes we’ll call the organization UR, and take to the streets, urinating on the walls of corporations doing that which we deem wrong in whatever capacity. Never mind the moral and sanitation concerns but who can forget a line of fifty grown men urinating in public? Not only will we not care, we will also have successfully captured the attention of fellow Kenyans. Success will be ours! (insert evil laugh) 

Live and Let Die

I guess if the cliff is inevitable, then one would rather sojourn towards it in a limousine then as a slave. More and more I see wisdom in drawing a very small and tight circle of people around me and truth be told, not giving a damn about those outside it. I mean every social gathering of my peers is filled with horror stories of undercutting, theft of ideas, formation of cartels, trading of flesh and all those niceties you encounter in the real world once you are gifted for your wasted youth of cramming and regurgitating facts and figures, with a fancy piece of paper called a diploma. Shortly after this certain people get real antsy with your continued presence in their homes and lack of the almighty job. Therefore friends, what is one to do? Perhaps not caring is the wise choice after all and all those we deem selfish and greedy are the enlightened ones. Sad but by the gods I hope not true.

In case you missed it ... an Ode to the Middle Class

Good Morning

There is no shortage of wake up calls in apartment blocks. An overly enthusiastic school bus driver gone to town on the horn and accelerator at the gate, a maid loudly trading morning tidings with security guards, a construction foreman gifted with ability to shout half of Kileleshwa awake and cocks crowing from crowded balconies. Like the spoilt brats they are, the middle class must be rudely roused from lazy slumber. 

Infrastructure is a Luxury

There is a circus in town in the way of upgrades to infrastructure like roads and electricity poles. One would make ends meet on wagers based on which road sections will be closed, which part of the bypass we shall find mysteriously completed, how long it will take to wade through lethargic traffic jams at 7.30am and how long the fifth blackout in three hours will last. Still this is welcome relief from the Chinese foreman bellowing orders from an incomplete balcony directly opposite your bedroom window. 

Enter the Thought Police

The administrative assistant (messenger a generation ago) expertly navigates narrow corridors and even narrower cubicles to your desk. They take a minute to catch their breath before asking for the day’s deliveries, and revealing to you that new poll results have been released. In fact the results are all over the newspapers. There is a twist to the results this time, the leading candidates are tied so a run off is inevitable. You gently remind the administrative assistant that the polling results are based on hardly one thousand participants and that approximately twelve million Kenyans are registered voters but what do you know? I mean the middle class are so dismissive. 

Get a 'real' Job

It didn’t take long for anticipated, almost childish confrontation to rear its expected head. The resident IT manager is convinced that there just isn’t a market for video streaming applications which target smartphones and tablet PCs in Kenya. Your mind however has drifted as you try to understand how a corporation with multiple and varying IT needs from software, to security, hardware, training and so on, can have an IT manager. He must be a jack of all trades – amazing! His dismissive attitude and chest thumping, hardly allowing you time to articulate and justify your product, would annoy any sane entrepreneur seeking to change their lot, but disappointment, dismissal, cartels and demands for unspoken yet now official favors is something the spoilt, lazy middle class must learn to live with. 

Trade Flesh or Perish

The boss was none too pleased when you badged in, the personal assistant half running, half balancing on skyscrapers called high heels (perhaps because one must be high to consider them foot wear), definitely scuttling and obviously raging mad catches up with you at the doorway. You need to leave early as your son’s asthma attack is bad this time … well according to the house help. The apartment block’s management also called to let you know the electricity people mysteriously showed up and declared your bill to be fifteen thousand shillings. You try to recall the last time you received an electricity bill, but your mind shifts back to your son. Ordinarily you’d ask your husband to handle the situation but he is presenting his video streaming mobile application demo to a leading telephony provider. He thinks this will be his big break, in fact you prayed in the morning. Your phone rings it’s the house help again and you plead with the boss promising to come in on Saturday. As you hurry down the flight of stairs from your seventeenth floor office, dodging the ‘elevator under repairs’ sign you recall a time when your boss was friendly, pointed you out as a rising star at the office parties, invited you to dinners and retreats for ‘strategic meetings’ – but that was before you got married.

The Middle Class be Damned!

I love the quote which goes, “you don’t have to finish eating an egg to know that it is rotten.” Any two digit IQ Kenyan now gets the gist of the above. I call it an Ode to the Middle Class. It would have gotten exciting had I talked about the journey home after 7pm and how we dodge car-jackings and muggings (mostly through prayer), but I’d hate to be the drool, spoilt, lazy middle class softie. I mean according to a certain media house the rich (must) also cry. Therefore on behalf of the middle class please allow me to apologize for being such a disgusting human being. I do not scuffle at polling stations for the primaries, perhaps because I know that the preferred candidates will sail through despite our so called right to vote. In fact I actually wait for people INSIDE the elevator to exit before I enter - I mean who does that right? I apologize for taking my family and what you call a Poodle but is actually a Dachshund to Koroga, how inconsiderate and snobbish of me. Appreciating and promoting local talent, seeking to spend a nice Sunday afternoon with friends and family, joining fellow Kenyans in contributing some much needed positive energy to the country; Christ above the middle class be damned! 

He was on Churchill

You will also forgive me for trying to gift my children with standards, working my fingers to the bone for quality education, spurring them to seek a better life and demanding they behave like civilized human beings at all times. I apologize for blocking the red plate Toyota Prado as it overlapped and tried to cut it at the junction I’d been crawling towards for forty minutes. How dare I stand up to inconsiderate human beings bursting at the seams with empty pride and delusions of humanity profiting off the pain, poverty and misery of others, masquerading as not for profits. I apologize to the Man of God who so tenderly and lovingly judged us all and put us in our place. Alas ashamed and sinful we stand rebuked, ready to have you place your hands on us and point out the speck in our collective eye. We must continue to plant financial seeds and tithe diligently in support of such self-proclaimed captains of society.

The Hype is actually so Simple

I cannot apologize enough as my every breath is more repulsive than the last. Woe unto me the slothful and covetous middle class animal that I am. However allow me to quickly and humbly make a case for myself. It’s simple really you see I choose to believe in a better Kenya where using hand sanitizer is not morally illegal and people respect each other. I choose to stand up to the societal vampires holding us hostage and seeking to polarize and agitate us via propaganda masked as news and outdated tricks like polls, by standing guard as an information minuteman and sharing open, unbiased dialogue with my fellow Kenyans. I choose to believe in a culture bent on empowerment for and provision of equal opportunities to all Kenyans irrespective of race, tribe and creed. I refuse to be a spectator voter supporting ethnic alliances, sheepishly smiling at the brewing storm, and allowing myself to view my Kenyan brother and sister as my enemy. Therefore I refuse to fall prey to the oldest trick in the book of the deceiver. I shall not be divided against my Kenyan brethren for that way I cannot be conquered. 

Find a new Scape Goat

I am personally tired of the constant lambasting of the so called middle class which is totally undefined by the way, whom every 'blogger' and media house employee with unresolved issues now attacks and blames for everything including cold coffee and flooded roads. Any show of civility in Kenya is now mocked and fought as a middle class trait, so much so that I sometimes fear we are descending into Chairman Mao's China preparing to rid ourselves of any and all who dare use their brain and live in a civilized world. Listen, you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. Blaming each and all and waiting for those whom you voted for and somehow deem indebted to you to change Kenya, is as foolish as the dog which barks at storm clouds in a bid to avert the rain. We can clean up our drainage systems, stop littering, secure our neighborhoods and weed out the sociopaths hiding in crevices like media, leadership, schools and churches. Hey, that or back to living like a robot off your 4inch screen reality catching up with some socialite's latest nude photos as your 7 year old takes twerking classes off the iPad you bought to impress your work mates.