What is the SI Unit for Good?

For close to three months I have posted nothing, not that I have not been having ideas or I haven’t been thinking, trust me I have, and too much I have been. You see I have been having writer’s block (something like ‘that time of the month’ but in this case it can take months) for a while. But above all I have been traveling a lot and learning a lot and making merry a lot and meeting people both important and useless.

So while I was hibernating, no, actually the other day as we were drinking with a friend some ninja (a friend to the friend) joined us. Before the baga could even pull a seat, I just knew the merry making was about to come to a close. This ninja apparently comes from the ‘you know who’ family and he is not shy to pronounce that, he even looks like the guy who will stop the deejay just to tell whoever cares to listen about his rendezvous. Any way to cut the long story short the guy kept being cocky about his life, from traveling the world to going out with exotic models n shit. Ok, that was not a goodnight for us, and later I kept asking myself, what does it really take to be good? What makes us happy?

It’s like we’re in an arms race to see who can live the most, except the problem is that we define “living” very specifically. We think unless we’re diving from the top board, Kiambuiring, Masakuing, adventuring and evolving and documenting the entire thing on Instagram or Facebook, we’re not living. There’s more life out there than there is in here. If we go out and do something, we become something, or at the very least, we can prove that to other people… and if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for us.

But what is it to live life to the fullest? If I am sitting peacefully, joyfully, on my desk staring at the ceiling and you are anxiously Kiambuiring or happening in Nax Vegas, who here is living life to the fullest? Is living life to the fullest an external event or an internal experience?

And then in comes the obsession to be loved. We collectively have this very odd – and rarely addressed – complex that unless we’re loved by everybody, we’re not worthy of love. Unless we’re the best, we’re not enough. Unless we’re being adventurous and reckless and revolutionary, we’re not doing anything at all. We’re not living life to the fullest we possibly can. We spend so much time (too much time) collecting evidence and combing through minutiae to prove to ourselves that the collective mindset toward us is a positive one. We are beautiful. We are loved. We are living because we’re doing what we’re taught is supposed to feel exciting and raw and real. We care more about what we perceive than how we actually feel.

Probably I have a disorder, I don’t see how talking about how good your life is relevant when you are drinking low end booze(anything costing 1k a litre and below), really bro? wake up, we are in this struggle together. To me the best days of my life were/are the ones in which I was exploring new joints and towns with the boys and spending time with my peeps, not when I handed in that term paper, or graduated, or did something else people perceive as extraordinary.

Well, am not saying there’s no merit in doing whatever you damn well please. If twerking makes you feel alive, good, I hope you send me your twerking clip soon. But it is to say that experiencing things to the fullest is not how much you do or have, it’s how aware you are of what you’re doing. So the next time you join me for a drink and start telling me about your silly life, you better be buying King George IV Whisky (that shit costs kedo 8k a tot by the way.… 🙂 ). Ok bye!….Ni hayo tu!

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Kenyan Alcoholics Daily Ritual of Drinking and Running is a Marvel to Behold

Hilariously Kenyan!….:)

the peculiar kenyan

 “When citizens exhibit a flagrant disregard of morality and law, societies quickly crumble.” – Anonymous

 

Munene Kilongi

 

It is universally known that we are the only people on earth who in times of peace can outrun people in a war zone. But nothing comes near to the spectacle of watching a Kenyan drunk on the run, his spindly legs begging gravity and the alcohol on his head to cooperate for a ‘worthy’ cause – the act of running.

 

On a wet and frosty August morning the masses wake early as usual heading to work. Some divert to the nearest bar for a quickie drink. Before the jobless army makes its daily rendezvous to the most popular hangout for youth in this nation – the local pub.

 

Hopes and dreams are growing dimmer by the day as the social and economic weather ruthlessly spanks ordinary Kenyans. Now…

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What Happened To That Dream?

What do you want to be when you grow up?, I remember my ol’ man asking me this question about a decade and a half ago and my high school teacher asking us again after our graduation from ‘Monoism’. I can bet this is a question we have all been asked somewhere by someone during our infancy. My options were vast: I wanted to be a ninja today, a doctor tomorrow, a lawyer the day after and something else in-between.

Our generation still get the same questions, “What do you really want to do with your life,” they ask, “So have you decided what you want to do with your life?” they continue. I don’t know why they think we haven’t charted our future already, is it because we look young, or maybe because they can see the general realm of confusion that permeates through our skin. Who knows? It’s a question I still get, only as I get older, the question becomes more embarrassing, and even harder to answer.

The last couple of weeks have been wacky, full of busy schedules, travelling, head bugs, thinking and more thinking. But there’s been one topic of conversation that has come up over and over. It’s this thing about the referendum, ok, not in the real sense of the word but the effects of going for or against it. Especially as a desperate college graduate-job-seeking-ninja.

You see, as a twenty-something you have a lot going on in your mind, school, job, post-grad, family, partying….This is a period more about being scared. You’re scared to give up on your dreams: the ones that still seem to change from day to day, the ones that you’re not even sure are real, because the people that you love the most are still struggling to accomplish theirs. You’re also scared to pursue your dreams: because they keep changing, because they make no money, because what if you fail and you finally realize that you are not as good at all those things you were told you were good at as a kid.
It is somewhere in between here that you will realize that you’re no longer a recent graduate, and that the line markers that were set up for you as a kid, as a young adult, as a recent graduate, have yet to be achieved. It’s when you realize that other people are passing right by you and you’re treading water in the same place, with the same job, with the same problems that you can’t seem to fix.

It is here that you will start asking yourself how important is it to have a job that you love, and why? When you actually start worrying about HELB loans n shit. It’s when you realize that you’re working a job that you will never be able to retire from because you are never able to save more than a 5k a month; that you will always have to live in a bedsitter or house with multiple roommates in order to make rent; that you haven’t taken a real holiday since you were in college; that you will never make 120k a month. It’s when you start questioning your worth, and then wondering why humans mark their value in the amount of money they bring home each month.

The things that I’m passionate about, that many of the people I love are passionate about, are not things that our society tends to place value on. Photography and farming are not as important as being able to sell things (like insurance and bank loans) to the general public. It’s hard for me to understand how anyone can be passionate about selling insurance policies (which are a pure art of thieving from innocent hardworking peeps btw).

Then again, maybe I just don’t understand. Because people are passionate about everything. Some people find poaching exhilarating or just hacking into kdf’s twitter account for the fun of it just right, others find throwing rotten eggs at each other instead of formulating laws enjoyable.
I just happen to find writing and farming especially poultry farming mesmerizing. I like fast songs, I can watch movies all day every day. And I, no matter how many times I lose sight of it, will always find joy in listening to people, searching for the middle of every story, the meat with the bones still in.

My stage, our stage, in life is the frustration of not having the answers. Then again even grownups don’t have all the answers. So as politicians try to divide us along political and ethnic lines AGAIN, think about YOU!…..Think about your shit right now, whether its school, work, business, passion, religion, family, anything….Think about it, and be true to it!!

My Letter to the #Njoki Cheges of This World

Vera Sidika came and left, I saw, got amused and unfortunately never aired my opinion. Then in an instance, #Masuku7s madness happened, and same shit happened, I was mum. #SabaSaba (the Rally and the Goal Tsunami) went down, I didn’t say shit. I mean several things have happened within a period of one month and all I have done is read/watch/hear and just shake my head…Ooh and before I forget, #Suarez also happened.

But on Tuesday, 10th of July in the Year of Our Lord, 2014 something BIG happened. Something horrendous, something atrocious, something appalling, something abysmal… Yes #Njoki Chege happened to us, to humanity to the universe.

I rarely comment on social media beefs or engage in tweefs and subarus on twitter, I love my lane, why? You may ask. You see I have a bloated ego and on the other hand I tend to think am gifted in among other things writing and lying through the nose. These two combined you have a ballooned personality, now imagine pricking that isht!…boom! You have a suicidal ninja on the loose.

Back to Njoki. For those unaware of what am talking about you can catch up with us here http://njokichege.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/why-i-will-never-marry-a-poor-man/.

She’s literally called 90% of Kenyan Men losers and riffraffs, that means all my friends and relatives (the very close ones) who have managed to buy ‘Cheap Toyota Premios and Subarus’ are [people who are not respectable : people who have very low social status]. I couldn’t just seat and watch my ego pricked from all angles, not even before I can afford a Tuk Tuk, no, not now. So, to balance the equation I have come up with three standards that the opposite sex has to meet before they even think of getting hitched to me and many of the hard working ninjas out there.

We all have set standards (ladies, you are very good at these), and it’s a good thing. There’s no reason to lower your expectations and you should never let anyone tell you otherwise. You have set standards for yourself to live by, and there is absolutely no reason to date anyone who can’t meet those same standards.

I have been a victim, and I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been told to lower my own standards. The unfortunate part though? I can’t count the number of times that I’ve done exactly that. So ladies and gentlemen before I even think of going out on a date with a lady…

I expect her to be ambitious – I want to see ambitions that make me feel like a slacker.Something that seems to be lacking these days is real ambition. In the past year, I’ve been working harder than ever to reshape my own life. I’m working towards a goal of a new career, am trying my hand at different things, am literally working hard to rediscover my life. I’m reading and writing more than ever, and I don’t even care who’s reading this. Case in point, I can’t live with the feeling that I’m dating a girl who can’t keep up (fortunately she is). In fact, I’d rather feel like I’m the one who needs to shape up in order to meet her ambitions. And again thank heavens that is the case.

I expect her to look good – Oh, am I sexist? No, not really.You see, I expect only as much of everyone else as I expect of myself. I expect myself to be put together and looking presentable every time I leave the house. Maybe this is my inner professional talking, but I see real potential in people who take a little time to look good in the morning. I’m not talking about natural-born looks either. I’m talking about the kind of looks and class that require a little bit of effort to achieve every morning.

After all, I would never promote (yes when Ultimax finally employsJ) anyone who looked like she just rolled out of bed. You can have all the talent, skills or experience to do a job, but I wouldn’t put you in front of a client looking like you don’t care about your own well-being.

I expect her to be good with money – Not in a gold digger (read Njoki Chege) kind of way, though. This has absolutely nothing to do with how much a person makes. This has everything to do with what she does with that money. I can’t imagine dating anyone with a spending problem, simply because I was once there and came out of it. I expect no less from her. This applies to any sort of problem or bad habit, like smoking, drinking and cursing like a sailor, gossiping, going to bed with a Sing’eng’e ni Ng’ombe tee… (Gents, u r free to add). If I’ve been there myself and I’ve recovered, there’s no reason you can’t do the same.

This list could go on and on. I’ll stop there though because I wanted to pass a message. We men don’t look at dating from a pin-sized lens, we use binoculars, we see the future. We don’t look at the bank balances now; we look at the potential future bank balance with you in the picture. We don’t judge by the skin color, height or weight; those are just secondary, they never count when it’s time to ‘face the elders’. Yes I can hang out with you every Friday and Saturday, but will I ever put a ring on it?…. think hard about it!

Things I Will Teach My Sons…. My Unborn Scions

Dear Jabali and Salat, my future sons. This is a list of 24 things I wish to impart to you from the wisdom of your father at age 24. At this age, I was between jobs and was still trying to find my way in life. Hopefully when you are old enough to read this I have already found my way and raised both of you wonderfully to be the men I dream that you can become.

Ok, but before you start making jokes of your ol’man you have to know that most of these pieces of advice were thought of when I was high as the Empire State Building.

Leggoo..
1. You are my son, not my clone.
2. You can be good at sports, get good grades, and like comic books and everything animation.
3. Talking of Sports, you shall always support Arsenal FC, Sofapaka and your High School Rugby Team.
4. Discipline is the mark of a man with a plan, and ladies love a man who knows what he’s doing.
5. Flattery gets you nowhere; compliments take you everywhere.
6. If that girl has pimples and is bald now, wait two years and look at her again, she’s probably the best thing you’ve seen all day.
7. Do unto girls what you’d like to be done to your sister; you boys are not the only douchebags out there hoping to get laid.
8. Chase your dreams. Don’t let me or anyone else tell you that something is not worth your time.
9. Conversation is king, even if you hate it. Having a good conversation is better than sex { 😉 true story}.
10. Sex isn’t about you, it’s about her.
11. Cooking is necessary. Your mother is not making your lunch after you turn 16, and neither is the Mboch.
12. It’s alright to cry, just not in front of the girl you have a crush on and not after you are circumcised unless it’s during my or your mother’s funeral.
13. Your friends are always more important than your girlfriend. She might be the one you love but they are the ones who were there before her and will be there after her.
14. It’s okay to ask your old man for money when you’re short on a date; it is not ok to support your girlfriend on your old man’s money.
15. Pick a sport and stick with it. If you like hitting people, do boxing; if you like impressing girls, play rugby like your ol’ man.
16. Date a girl from every walk of life. You don’t know what you actually want in a girl until you’ve met all of them.
17. Save, but do not be stingy. Money comes to those who are willing to spend.
18. It’s okay if you don’t speak Kalenjin (or whatever your mother tongue is), just remember what your name means and give your son a name that means something.
19. There is no money left for you when I die, therefore please don’t expect too much. The money is for your sister. You’re men; you should be able to survive without an inheritance.
20. Porn is normal; just make sure you keep it from your sister and your mother.
21. It’s okay to date that weird girl that you like but no one else does. She just might be the one you end up marrying.
22. Be gentlemen at all times. They always win.
23. Read. Sons, real men read. Not Newspapers, but books.
24. Lastly, don’t ever look down upon anyone… I have seen Kharma at work, that bitch is badass sons!!

My Advice to Every College Ninja

I know of very many friends from undergrad who have gone back to school, others for postgrad diplomas and others for degrees. I have been under pressure from my folks to do the same and at last I have thrown in the towel, come Sept I will be a student again ninjas. This has brought lots of excitement reminiscent of undergraduate me. I know post graduate will be a whole different game, unlike the earlier, here I will have old men and women as classmates, lecturers will be my buddies, I will be setting my own timetable and re-scheduling it as much as I fucking want J For any Undergrad that sounds exciting but trust me this doesn’t thrill me at all. I want to relieve undergrad once more, to correct a couple of stuff I didn’t do. But if wishes were horses, baba would be the Chair of EAC.

So for those ninjas who are still in college, what are you doing right now? Lying in bed, kind of hangovered, watching Game of Thrones (heheh you know at some point I had to mention that), looking or worse fapping to Instagram photos of girls who aren’t interested in sleeping with you?

Yup. Sad. Let’s change that. Pull up Google and look up “animal rescue near Zetech (heheh that also had to come up somewhere somehow) or Kesses.” Then take a bong rip (because you were planning on doing that anyway), dandia a jav and pick out a puppy. Then bring it home.

I’m entirely serious. If I could redo college, there’s only one thing I would change. And it wouldn’t be partying more, drinking less or being in a relationship in my final year. It would be, the moment I left my freshman bedsitter, buying a three or four-month old dog.

I know what you’re thinking: A puppy is so much work. No, it’s not. You put it in a crate and it stays in the crate. Responsibility-wise, it’s the equivalent of owning a refrigerator, I know of bagas who used to own these stuff back in Campus. Yea, you occasionally have to go outside with it, but I know you go on a daily 5:20 blunt walk. Don’t act like you don’t. So take the dog along and your life has no longer been inconvenienced.

It’s going to shit and piss everywhere. So it’s no different than the friends you already have J. Take a whiff of your living room. What scents do you detect? Woody (burning incense), mainly, but also vomit and beer. You think some doggy poo is going to tip the scales? Make your place unlivable?

Won’t I have to train it? Buy treats and tell it to do things. Then use the Internet. Look, stop with the excuses about why you shouldn’t get a dog. You should. It will singlehandedly change your life.

Sunday morning, you woke up alone. I know you did. Because you couldn’t seal the deal, if you know what I mean ;). You were chatting with a girl and things were going well and you wanted to get out of there (with her), but didn’t know how to broach it. Well guess what? If you’ve listened to me, you will NEVER have that conversation ever again.

Let’s flash backwards to that Saturday. You’re having your conversation with a girl, and when you’re ready to ask her to go back home with you, you don’t even ask. You just say this: “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I’ve got to let my puppy out.”

Watch her face drop. First off, you are the only man at this bar/party/your campus who owns a puppy (I looked it up). And women, ladies, bitches, whatever you want to call them, LOVE PUPPIES. Now there are only two more lines of dialogue before she leaves with you.

1. “OMG YOU HAVE A PUPPY.”
2. “Yea. You wanna come walk her*?”…;)

Congratulations. You never again need to awkwardly and uncomfortably invite a girl back to your place. You have gamed the system, both brilliantly and adorably.

* I forgot to mention this but the puppy needs to be female. I can’t explain this, but women are more attracted to girl dogs. And for some stupid reason, when a guy owns a female puppy, he immediately becomes more sensitive and caring. It’s like, look at you, you live with a girl. You must get them.

The Quarter-Life Crisis

I bet we’ve all heard of the dreaded mid-life crisis that those before us have experienced. The legends tell us of 50-year old men marrying second or third wives, others hitting the club scene like testosterone lazed teenagers and my favorite, those who start hunting for old ‘German made’ kettles, padlocks, ostrich eggs and whatnot, yes am talking about the treasure hunters. We hear of middle-aged women enrolling in pole dancing classes(read Zumba), others getting boob-jobs or in worst case scenarios those who enlist the services of toy-boys. But we don’t often hear of the crisis that happens before all the rest. This crisis is a combination of thoughts and fears that haunt us in our dreams and fill our minds during almost every waking moment.

It’s that dreaded quarter-life crisis.

Almost two years ago, I told those around me that I felt as if I was experiencing some sort of mid-life crisis. They brushed it off and told me I was crazy. After all, I was only 22. How could I possibly be experiencing an identity crisis at such a young age?

It’s easy. You see, this is around the time we clear or are about to clear College and unexpectedly we’re thrust into the real world, totally unprepared. Now, we find ourselves in this place where we are supposed to know what we want to do and we are supposed to know how to do it. We’re supposed to make important decisions and plan for years in advance. No one really knows what he or she is doing but we’re all scared to admit that.

We see others enrolling in grad schools and witness others being admitted to the bar (oops those bagas are still in KSL), others getting awesome job offers, others just continue playing video games and then the winners, those who jump into the baby-making industry. They all make it look so easy. But when we look inward, we become panicked because we have no idea. We feel stuck. We see several different paths and even as we choose one of them we look backwards at the others…positive that we’re making a mistake.

Don’t believe me when I say I know. I am clueless as fuck. I have no idea of what I really want to do or even want. Each decision I make is a gamble. No one truly knows what the future holds. Like most of you, I focus so much on the future to escape the present.

But there’s no set path for us. There’s no road for us to follow. There’s no way of knowing what’s right and wrong. We just have to try.

We just have to take chances. We have to follow our dreams and listen to our hearts even when everyone is advising us against it.

We have to believe in ourselves. And above all, we have to believe that we can have it all. We can have that life we love while making a living.

We can’t always wait for the perfect time. Sometimes, you just have to jump. So if you are about to clear college, prepare yourself. If you are already in grad school, kudos. If you are still hustling like everyone else, don’t lose hope. If you are still playing video games, well…go grab yourself a copy of ‘Imagine Earth’ I hear it’s out. And if you are churning out babies, when is the next one popping out? 😉