tHiNkEr’S rOoM

I have nothing against my fellow man. After all, I am a solid and lifelong member of the fellowship. However when it comes to the ritual of using the facilities I hold my fellows in a fine disdain.

All O y’all are crazy my sons.

I am extremely reluctant to set foot in certain rooms that are, as far as I can tell, prerequisites for the establishment attending to the throat lubrication and overall leisure of its patrons. These rooms generally have doors with the following signs

Or, more adventurously

For obvious reasons, the chief one being the memory of Pandora’s box, I  have yet to set foot in the room marked thus.

I have no idea what lies inside. Rumour has it there is a lush green meadow, a bubbling brook, young scampering ponies, pastry and piped music. I have no idea. And thanks to the memory of Pandora, I have no intention of finding out.

The room marked thus

Is altogether much simpler. The room contains nothing but the following

1. Urinals
2. Stalls
3. Sink

You would think this Spartan equipment would not be problematic to use. There you would be wrong.

Preliminaries

By and large, 99.99% of men completely ignore the sink. They do not wash their hands either before or after downloading their copy, either soft or hard. Yes, 99.99%. Don’t act all outraged. There are very few men who take hygiene seriously, and I know them both. I can just imagine some doofus wondering “wash my hands before”.

Yes, BEFORE. My son, your hands have been in very many places. You have shaken hands with fellows with the hygiene levels of Gadarene swine. You have eaten spicy chicken wings. You have had chili chevra. You have blown your nose with your hand (obviously because, only 3 of us men in Nairobi actually carry clean handkerchiefs). Your hands have been in all sorts of nasty, skanky places. The last thing you need is to expose your delicate bits to this symphony of filth, germs, and bacteria. Which is why you should wash your bloody hands before you proceed to the arena.

Combat Theatres

After ignoring the sink, most chaps, even while still walking already know their preferred combat theatres. Some fellows are partial to the stall while others are partial to the urinals. The choice is generally determined by self esteem issues. Those who feel … er … inadequate compared to their fellows will go out of their way to get into a stall. These are the chaps you spot fidgeting from one foot to the other, a look of agony on their countenance waiting for the stalls to be free even with an empty urinals available.

Preamble

Most chaps know in advance what sort of combat theatre is preferred. But even as they walk they behave in the same way. Even before they get to the actual battle field they are already opening their turrets, loading, and preparing to fire even before the actual target is in sigh. Needless to say, this has led to numerous embarrassing situations and quite a number of international misunderstandings.

Trajectory

Even with several dozen years of experience, many chaps have yet to master the art of the trajectory, in terms of direction and range. A fellow will stand right at the door and commence fire. It does not occur to him that different fellows designed the facilities at Mwenda’s and another set designed the facilities at his office. This generally means that the displacement between the door and the target, vector XY will differ.

X1Y1 is the distance between the stall door and the facilities in the office

X2Y2 is the distance between the stall door and the facilities of the club

So, used to the smaller distance of the office, the doofus will stand at spot x2 and target his first salvo at the usual trajectory. Needless to say, HMS WC will be unscathed by the first salvo that will uselessly spend itself on the stall floor.

At times the opposite is the case … the club’s stalls are very small and used to the airy roominess of the office, the chap will fire a mighty salvo that will sail clear over the WC and bury itself in the wall.

After several hours of such fellows the floor of the stall will begin to look like so

Nasty, sticky, skanky mess smelling powerfully of ammonia. Come on guys!!!

The urinal does not fare much better. Most fellows fail to account for the principle of the ricochet, which fits in neatly with Newton’s Third law. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Let us take as a simple illustration a small boy throwing a ball at a wall

Replacing the ball with produce of East African Breweries Limited, it is not long before the urinal looks like so:

Bloody hell fellas!!!

Looking at the copious large yellow stains on the floors of loos across Kenya, it occurs to me that besides poor trajectory, miscalculation of force perhaps another problem might be technique. Are there fellows who use the same thumb technique applied to the garden hose in the confines of the facilities? I am inclined to think so my friends, very sadly so.

Victory

And even after this the garden gnome will zip up his artillery, ignore the sink and within no time will be at your table, clapping your back heartily with one hand and reaching his fat grubby fingers for the roast meat with the other …

Bloody hell.

Tattoos

Is there a parlour in Kenya capable of doing this? I’d be there in a heartbeat!

 Smooth - Mind Blowing

Nowadays news is very boring. Local news at any rate. There’s only so much NARC Kenya, ODM and ODM-K that one can take. The other parties like Ford Kenyan DP, etc are of nuisance value.

On the Internet however, it is an altogether different kettle of fish…

China wants to control reincarnation. We just can’t have people rising from the dead all willy nilly …

This couple had a truly memorable first time … with a new twist to “heat of the moment” …

There’s some rather interesting software available that beggars belief. It is hoped it comes with diapers …

To deal with the problem of drunk doofuses who drink and drive there is an interesting attempt to get them to play ball …

Hell hath no fury … I knew she was not screwing around when I got to the diaper part

And finally, If you’ve ever sampled Noka Chocolate I have news for you!

PIC OF THE DAY

 
Well…

 Les Nubians - Makeda

In the new found spirit of adventure, this Sunday Roberta and I found ourselves visiting one of my godsons. You are well on the path to being a distinguished gentleman when you are

1. Shortlisted for the post of Godfather
2. Actually awarded the post of Godfather
3. Have been awarded said post twice now

It was quite nice seeing little Kenneth. Why? For a number of reasons, the chief one being he has the cutest smile and most importantly, he is one of those few babies that actually is a beautiful baby, a credit largely (and luckily) attributed to his mother. (J my man, I feel sure that he has your brains

It is said all babies look the same. This is a theory I hotly contest, using as test data the large number of babies that I have seen. Some babies are memorable and other babies are … well … you remember them.

I’m sure many of us have been in the situation where a bundle is thrust in your hand and doting parents ask you to take a look at the beautiful bundle.

You take a look at said bundle. You fight the urge to flinch. You tell yourself “Aha! Now we know who Smeagol’s parents were!” Or you might wonder if the problem is not so much the baby but the presentation. Has the baby, for instance, been presented upside down, such that you are not looking into the input ports but rather the output?

No matter what you think, if it is not positive keep it to yourself. Nothing can transform a woman from a doting mother to Darth Vader quicker than the slightest slight to her offspring. Say things like “Wow! What a beautiful baby”, even if the baby looks like a departing Peugeot 504. Trust me. You shall live longer. I know this from the fact that in my naive youth I answered “Have you seen anything prettier” strongly and emphatically in the positive, citing several examples. As a result my life expectancy is 10 years less than yours.

Sigh. You live, you learn.

But I digress. Kenneth is a beautiful baby, and his toothless smile is quite fetching. I could have spent hours playing with that young man. He laughs outrageously and happily  if you know just where on his stomach to tickle. He attempts to put everything in his mouth, including his own toes and Roberta’s car keys. Quick movement on my part saved me from having the most expensive, living, breathing  key holder in existence.

Ah, the innocence of youth. You are fed, clothed and carried around. Everyone fawns over you. Your tantrums are considered cute. No matter how cute you are, just try throwing a tantrum at your ripe old age now and you will find yourself laughed out of  town.

As thanks to my host, and letting Chef M rise to the surface, I raided their kitchen and made a colossal mess. In my defence I turned out a very delicious Lemon Pound Cake. Half of the cake somehow found itself under my sweater and out of the house. All in the name of quality control, of course. I would have taken photos but I was too busy scheming how to steal half the cake. Mama Kenneth (suspiciously) still has cravings for pastry well after the young lad was delivered by the storks.

Piggy Corner

Yes, KM, Jade, Nakeel, Afromusing & Shiro. I know what you want. The recipe. Follow this one. Pretty accurate. Although I disagree about the vanilla bit. But hey, different strokes…

If you’re inclined to make this cake a nice tip is to grate a bit of the lemon rind and chuck that into the cake mix. Your tongue and stomach will love you but your neighbours I assure you will hate you. D.E.L.I.C.I.O.U.S. Also, some people mind the flavour of butter so you might use margarine instead. Jienjoy.

Pic Of The Day

 
That right there is a mailbox!

 Bryan McKnight - Anytime

Old Is Gold …

Just be blue
if you need to.
A beautiful rainbow
for you to know
is not complete without the blue.

Just be blue
as you sit in your room.
You need to know
that beyond your door
I’m sitting there just thinking of you.

Just be blue
as you ponder anew.
I’ve come to see,
that to be next to thee
Sometimes I just need to let you be.

And as you’re blue
I say to you
that I may not know
just how to show
I share your woe
but I’ll sit at your door,
and think of you more
and hope your blue
will be gone soon,
and then you’ll come out
and I’ll be without
then maybe tomorrow
as you may know
your blue will become
a beautiful rainbow ….

 I Puff Johnson - Yearning

Some time ago, ruminating over myself, my life, and the wide variety of conflicting opinions held about myself and third parties, I came to the conclusion that I am actually composed of several personalities, jostling and shouting for exclusive use of the same body. Depending on which personality took office, things would hum in my immediate environment.

The recent bitch slapping enthusiastically delivered by life, triggering an audit has led me to the shocking revelation that a single personality has silently pulled  a bloodless coup and has taken firm control of the office of M, to the chagrin of the other personalities. I’ve spent the weekend listening to passionate complaints from the other personalities and it is sobering.

The coup plotter is Wall Street M. That guy is ruthless, ambitious, focused and driven. He thinks on his feet and wastes no time in taking on challenges that further ambition. He can (and does) work very hard. He actually does not sleep much and can make do with 2 hours a night. His gears are always turning.

A very useful chap, that one, and he serves me very well. I owe my current position at many levels to that chap. It cannot be understated that he has done his bit and then some for me career-wise.

The problem with him is that he has taken over operations and is on duty all the bloody time. And has been for quite a while.

And so taking advantage of my distracted situation the other personalities presented a passionate memo pleading for their colleague to be tamed.

• Shakespeare M is one of the biggest casualties. He has almost never made an appearance, as is testament to the complete lack of poetry
• Wordsmith M is another who has been bound and gagged for more than a year. These fingers have not churned out a short story in a very long time
• Orator M, he of the outrageous stories and yarns who thirsts for the company of his fellows has also been another victim
• Livingston M, the one who likes to travel and explore, and has climbed Mount Kenya bemoaned his confinement to quarters
• Freud M, who enjoys interpreting human nature, philosophy and psychology complained that the only time he was called out it was to obey instructions from Wall Street M, for his own uses.
• Casanova M, tasked with the key reasonability of furthering my plan of world domination, who can very effectively rally the forces of all the others was found tied, bound and gagged behind a sofa. From his bitter complaints it would seem he was the one taken out first.
• Multitasking M, who does outrageous things like reading 3 books at once and using two monitors simultaneously is slowly being persuaded to come out of his shell
• Bach M, who enjoys music and discovering obscure bands, groups and artists that somehow slip under the radar surfaced as well. (He recommends you get a hold of Jamelia’s album).
• Movie Buff M who relishes in all things TV. (Keenly awaiting delivery of the following: Rome, Heroes, Weeds, Grey’s Anatomy, Family Guy & Boston Legal)

Needless to say it was an eye opener. Judicious inquiries have led to the revelation that indeed, this has been the state of affairs for a while. Repeated complaints from nearest and dearest, seeing as they were fielded by Wall Street M himself, never got to see the light of day. One of my friends was actually surprised to see me on Saturday.

“Dude,” said she, eyes popping in amazement. ”Have you resigned or been fired?”

Some damage, inevitably, has been done. But still … from rock bottom the only direction is up. Wall Street M was soundly beaten by his colleagues, and horsewhipped to boot. He will not show his face after 5, 6 at the latest. This will be a change from the 12-13 hour working days

I need to mix it up! FORWARD!

In this hour of tribulations all the lads rallied together and I have spent a very interesting weekend indeed. I have discovered 3 AMAZING Italian restaurants, one that was literally right under my nose that served Black Forest with Ice Cream. (No, I won’t tell you where they are so you can start coming to clutter it, asking for Kenylon Tomato Sauce and Ugali Saucer. But if you ask me nicely …) I have watched a play and listened to 3 different bands. Real bands. I remember now why I prefer plays to movies. I have discovered that Roberta (yes, she’s back!) has some sort of reserve fuel tank that can take 1,000 bob worth of fuel before the fuel gauge gets to empty. After a long absence from the kitchen, I returned triumphantly. Stuffed chicken, my friends, stuffed chicken. Cucumber, onions, tomatoes, green peppers (who’d have thought!), potatoes. I even ate spinach (I can hear those who know me well gasp).

Of course I thought the humongous bird was an eagle after my man Mutuma smugly handed it to me. It was so good I had it for breakfast this morning. I have a poem in my head and two short stories that are dying to download themselves onto paper.

I also have some very lovely photos of Gigiri, Langata (huko sides of Ostrich Park), Limuru and Karen that I took this exploring weekend. Or should I say had. I somehow deleted the lot. Don’t ask. But not to worry — another weekend cometh!

I won’t say all these activities eliminate the angst, but they sure do help me remember who I am and what I am made of. Things still ABSOLUTELY suck, but at least they feel more bearable and they can be weathered. One day I can actually see myself saying this was good for me.

We’s back!

And now, back to regular programming.

Freezing their asses off at Kengele’s this past Thursday were Unyc, Milo & JM, as well as brother of Josh. And later on JadeKitten, unless Milo was lying to me. Hot damn.

Anyway, it was pretty nice and laid back, though I had to leave hurriedly to fight yet another fire, let me wind up some unfinished business, JM my guy, the only things you and your bro have in common are opposable thumbs and binocular vision. You could not look more different if you tried!

FLICK OF THE DAY

Look at these prisoners doing the Thriller! This is so cool! 

GROAN OF THE DAY

The biggest Knight of King Arthur’s round table was Sir Cumference

QUOTE OF THE DAY

Q: Do you know what apathy is?

A: I don’t care

AOB

I’m going to watch Die Hard 4.0 this evening. Yes, I’ve not watched it. Shocking. At least this way there’ll be like 3 guys in the cinema who’ll shut their mouths and not provide inane commentary. If you’ll be in the neighbourhood …

AO AOB

Many thanks for all the kind messages and texts. Nyinyi ni wetu!!! Special thanks to my friends Sam and Njeri and Carole for listening to my wild ranting. You guys rock. Thanks.

Did You Know?

This day in 1945 Harry Truman inspired GW when he dropped an Atomic bomb on Hiroshima

 I Miss You - Blink 182

[This Post Is More Personal Than Normal. Usual Programming Back Soon]

Familiarity, it is said, breeds contempt. This, as you may already know, is a fact. Too much of a steady supply of anything is wont to get you taking things for granted. Which is why, in His infinite wisdom. God sees fit to occasionally mix it up.

I’m sure you can relate. Every once in while unto you is delivered  a handsome sprinkling of tribulations, and you are left to your devices to sort them out. These are the times when you truly learn what sort of stuff you are made of. You will learn just how much you can bend without breaking. You will learn how you deal with difficulty. And most importantly how not to deal with difficulty. You will learn that no matter how much friends, family and loved ones you have, you, and only you, at the end of the day, has to deal with these things.

I used to resent these but with age we get a little wiser and I realized actually that they are good for you because if you can smile after tribulations, you will truly appreciate the power that smile holds. If you can soldier on with all these weights on your back, you are stronger than you thought.

As we speak I am currently up to my eyeballs in what is turning out to be the fortnight from hell. It turns out that Murphy, he of Murphy’s laws is not quite as cynical as fate. Every last thing I have laid my hands on this past two weeks has blown up in some way or the other in my face. My usual crutches in times of tribulations are not available and so I must fight the good fight man solo. I have stopped asking the question “what else can go wrong?!” for the excellent reason that any such sentiments get treated as challenges.

Even something as benign as tying my shoelaces this past Tuesday Almost resulted in my gouging my right eye. I even (after a lengthy search) found the PERFECT flat but inexplicably the doofus doubled the rent literally as the deal was about to be sealed! Sigh!

I could go on to enumerate the impressive array of things that seem to be turning to ashes around me, but they are not really important in the larger scheme of things with regards to the point I am trying to make.

Except one.

Last Thursday morning I received news that one of my dearest friends had decided to take her life, and had indeed done just that. Out of the blue. Nary a warning. I was all the more stunned because I am led to believe I was the last to speak to her before she took this decision, very early on Thursday morning, about 3 AM. O retrospect, I am very glad I took that call. For a very long time I have had a dim view of people who make calls at that hour of the morning, but events over the past couple of months have led me to believe it is better to err on the side of caution and take such calls anyway. It could be something important. Or it could be Oti, your drunken friend calling to ask you if you’ve seen his car keys. In the latter case you can practice your eloquence and bang the phone (or as much as you can bang your mobile).

You might think that she would have sounded harassed or confused or distressed. On the contrary. I have never heard  her sound so focused and determined. We had a nice chat. We vented about work, life, relationships, etc. And she said a cheerful goodbye and the next time I shall see her is this weekend when I will be one of those reading her eulogy.

Why did she feel compelled to do this? I wish I knew for sure. All I know is that she had some personal problems that she did not want to talk about.

I admit I am still stunned that she felt driven to take this course of action. And at some level, though I still love her, I will also always deeply resent this course of action that she took.

So what am I trying to say? Much as at times I have felt unable to cope with the issues bothering me, I immediately take comfort in the fact that the Big Man upstairs may be many things, but he’s also a good sport. He WILL NOT allow anything to come your way that you cannot handle. And the collective kicks in the pants I have received over a chequered life, and this past weeks are merely to remind me the sort of man my efforts, my folks,  and my maker (in reverse order!) I am. A good swift kick in the pants on occasion is precisely what the doctor ordered to realize that I take far too much, and far too many people for granted.

So my friends, if you’re in a place where it seems like the world itself is conspiring against you, keep your chin up! You can’t have a sunrise without a sunset. And if you can’t talk to someone. Anyone. Even Job’s tribulations lost the battle with time.

I suppose I will go to my grave wondering if there was anything I could have said to change her mind. I doubt it, but still … I will always wonder…

Yesterday - The Beatles

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday

Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, I yesterday came suddenly

Why she had to go I don’t know she wouldn’t say
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday

Why she had to go I don’t know she wouldn’t say
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away

Oh, I believe in yesterday
Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm

 In the Arms Of An Angel - Sarah McLachlan

Our many blogging friends from Tanzania have impressed and cheered me greatly. They have

• Created a formal blogger’s association, Jumwata
• Organized and participated in an online conference using freely available tools
• The conference was run along democratic ideals. All decisions were arrived at through votes
• Held elections and elected officials
• All aspects of the association: leadership, content aggregation, awards, etc will be owned by the community, and decisions will be made as a community
• They are drafting a constitution that will oversee various aspects of the community — activism, media law, technology, ethics and other such aspects

Yes sir, my friends — combining democracy, transparency, collaboration, citizen media and blogging? You’re doing something right!

Details on Jumwata available here.

Mighty tough footsteps to follow. I’m not sure I’ve heard of any community openly organized in this manner.

AOB

Herman Marsden Madoka you River Troll, you must be KIDDING

Mwatate MP Marsden Madoka said the amount was “not commensurate with the services MPs offer to the public.

He said if the electorates knew the financial tribulations their MPs go through, they would recommend that they get more.

Speaking on the telephone from his Mwatate office, Mr Madoka said the package being proposed for MPs should be reviewed.

“This is not sendoff pay, as the media is putting it. It is gratuity like the one workers in both the public and the private sector are given when they retire,” he argued.

I’m interested to know what services there are, over and above stuffing their fat faces with samosas and belching loudly. What makes this doofus think that MPs are more special than other hard working Kenyans? I wish I was a constituent of Mwatate. I jolly well know where my vote would NOT go!

 Ruckus - Narvio & Peter Miles

My thoughts on Kenyan MPs are well known. I cannot think of a single good thing about those useless doofuses. The best present that they can give Kenyans is their immediate and permanent absence.

I would very much like the gentleman who had the temerity to defend those chocolate teapots to again make an attempt to defend them. Please. Anyone?

I cannot remember the last time Kenyans as a whole have been more incensed than when parliament happily moved to yet again increase its benefits, including a 6 million or so payoff. Each.

I am still stunned. And what is all the more galling is that they cannot even show up to do the little they are paid to do. Perpetual lacks of quorum are the norm. And Francis Xavier had the audacity to complain that the Kenyan MP is overworked! Indeed. Shoveling samosas and contributing sulphurous oxides in some quarters may be considered taxing.

And yesterday the Kibaki Government again managed to slither under the extremely low bar it has set for itself.

And yesterday human rights activists protesting the Blackbeard-esque plunder of our hard earned money found themselves being treated as if they had taken the last of the biscuits from the presidential breakfast table. They were promptly and violently arrested.

I have long been a proponent of the fact that God has a VERY GOOD sense of humour. Very good indeed. And the image of extremely underpaid police officers fighting tooth and nail for the extremely overpaid good for nothing doofuses is some of his best work.

By the way, this bill did not just appear. It was introduced by one Amos Kimunya. And being a Cabinet Minister, it is not an unreasonable assumption to construe it as a Government Bill, despite the shadow boxing from other ministers.

What does that say about the Government’s attitude to its long suffering people?

 Redman - I’ll Be Dat

For some reason I’m sure Kenyan MPs relate to this song!