Friday, June 8, 2012
From the mouths of babes
I was 'inspecting' my nephew Joshua’s milk teeth when he calmly asked:“Aunty Dudee, who buy you teeth?”
“God gave us our teeth,” I replied.
Without skipping a beat, he said: “But He didn’t give us brush”
This nugget is in the same league as wahenga wisdom: “Life is like githeri, ...'ts how you karanga/cook it.”
It challenged me on many fronts: Creativity, Responsibility, Stewardship...!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
It’s not the education, stupid!
On hearing that a case had been filed in Court challenging the Elections Act 2011 Clause that demands a Degree as a pre-requisite for politicians vying for elective office, I sniggered. Later, however, I went on an empirical expedition.
Is Uneducated = / ≠ Stupid? (methinksnot!).
Education and Stupidity are not necessarily mutually exclusive. It is therefore possible to have large doses of these elements co-existing merrily in one individual (I daresay!).
Agreed, leaders must possess mental experience and intellectual mettle to rationally and analytically solve problems and make things happen in this country. However, and thankfully, these skills are not the exclusive reserve of the university-educated folk.
I know this how?
I know graduates, freshly and not-so-freshly baked from our local universities, who are exceptional in their thinking and logic. I have also interacted with graduates, whose reasoning and logic stand on their heads, painfully struggling to sustain a thread of thought to its logical conclusion. This reality begs for radical adjustments to the education system, if we are to improve the quality of graduates churned out every year.
I have also met a few ‘un-Universitied’ Kenyans, who hold their own, brilliantly. My semi-illiterate maternal grand-father, for example, had the kind of business acumen, decisiveness and uncommon analytical ability that many a business graduate would marvel at. Life experience had strengthened the sinews of his understanding over the years, to good effect.
I ask: Will this nation sacrifice great leadership at the altar of university education?
To shut out an individual from vying for an elective office on the grounds of educational dwarfism, is not only infringing the rights of the individual, but, kicking democracy in the teeth. This one elitist Act locks out millions of Kenyans who have neither had the stipulated schooling; nor engaged the services of the ‘researchers-for-hire’ to do their CATs, Term Papers and Thesis at a fee; or worse still, paid the counterfeit-masters on River-Road a courtesy call to enable them buy-and-comply with the exclusionary Certificate requirement.
In essence, what we require are not leaders strutting around with their university degrees, but patriotic men and women of noble character and with logically sound minds. We are starved of clear-thinking leaders whose hearts and thoughts are touched by the plight of young people wasting away their youth, idling, for lack of gainful engagement. Where are the leaders who will not turn a deaf ear to the cries of fellow Kenyans still languishing in IDP camps? Show me a Kenyan who will not turn a blind eye or stretch their arms to share loot stolen from struggling Kenyans and I will show you a politician who will not need to buy my vote. Dire economic times notwithstanding!
Truth be told, if and when a Kenyan of this calibre chooses to vie for elective office, come the next General Election, I shall throw the full weight of my vote behind them. I refuse to dismiss them on the frivolous grounds of ‘paper-lessness’. Shoot!
Given: Education is great, and by no means an intellectual luxury. But, integrity, strength of character and clarity of thought are way greater.
Sigh! In the face of the current crop of educated politicians ruining, oops, running our affairs from the August House, this comment is so obvious that it should be unnecessary to make.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tribal-hypnosis
The following is a transcription of a telephone conversation I had the misfortune of having this afternoon with a prospective landlord (hereinunder, PL):
ME: My name is Susan... is the advertised house still vacant?
PL: Yes it is. Eh, my name is Brigadier Mutisya of the Armed Forces.
Assurances are exchanged: He informs me that he is the property owner (truth be told, I have no desire to deal with crafty agents, and neither does he). I quickly lay his fears to rest, and with the preliminaries sorted, our convo continues merrily. The gentleman proceeds to unleash a mega self-intro, on my air-time mind you, and I listen patiently. Then he interrupts his monologue to ask the all-important, deal-determining question.
PL: Susan, what is your name?
There is nothing random about that loaded surname question. It goes beyond identity. It's almost always the camouflaged 'ethnicity' issue. (Ok! I have blinders too... such a blanket assumption (lo!). I hope he can prove me wrong). So, on this occasion, I 'go blonde'.
ME: Susan
PL: As I said, my name is Mutisya, and as you can tell I'm a Kamba (really? oops sorry, I hadn't stopped to connect the tribal dots). What's your name? (he repeats )
Typical! I know his type! But, why jeopardise my chances? Besides, I figure, a certain level of disclosure is necessary when entering into these Tenancy Agreements. So, I blurt out my surname (That singular response brings the convo to a screeching halt).
PL: Kikuyu Sitaki!
Tribalism is the 'enfant-terrible' of Africa's diversity (BTW, some Indian landlords, unlike Mutisya's nude overtness, take the trouble to cloak their biases. Their version of the story goes something like this: "Sorry, vi vont wegeterians only!" (that standard script, complete with the head-movement and a blank oriental-look marks the end of that 'non-Indians not-need-not-bother' conversation).
Questions: If a public servant like Mutisya can be that blinded by the dizzying reality of our ethnic animosity, who will take on the harrowing task of transforming our 'sick-and-sour' selves? Who will build ethnic-bridges? I have to wonder about the thoughts and sentiments being pedalled among the illiterati in far-flung counties on this issue. This being an election year, I pray for divine wisdom, cohesiveness and national reconciliation (I dare not get started on the TJRC).
This is a battle we (Brigadier and the rest of us Kenyans) must fight. And win!
Later, I had a good mind to call this soldier fellow and respectfully show him the error of his ways. But, before throwing myself to the High Priestly duties of exorcising the demons of tribalism that plague his soul, I was filled with compassion for this burdened man - demonizing a whole tribe must be a heavy load to bear! I wondered about his ability to think or see clearly through his blurred, myopic 'tribal lenses' - what poor vision.
P.S: My heart goes out to the poor troops in his battalion... especially those whose mother-tongues are foreign to the good Brigadier:(.
P.S II: It would be pretentious to say that any of us is blameless. So, before I hurl another huge boulder at the Brig., I'll take a nice, long and hard look at myself... and, as MJ put it, 'make the change!'. Ouch!
ME: My name is Susan... is the advertised house still vacant?
PL: Yes it is. Eh, my name is Brigadier Mutisya of the Armed Forces.
Assurances are exchanged: He informs me that he is the property owner (truth be told, I have no desire to deal with crafty agents, and neither does he). I quickly lay his fears to rest, and with the preliminaries sorted, our convo continues merrily. The gentleman proceeds to unleash a mega self-intro, on my air-time mind you, and I listen patiently. Then he interrupts his monologue to ask the all-important, deal-determining question.
PL: Susan, what is your name?
There is nothing random about that loaded surname question. It goes beyond identity. It's almost always the camouflaged 'ethnicity' issue. (Ok! I have blinders too... such a blanket assumption (lo!). I hope he can prove me wrong). So, on this occasion, I 'go blonde'.
ME: Susan
PL: As I said, my name is Mutisya, and as you can tell I'm a Kamba (really? oops sorry, I hadn't stopped to connect the tribal dots). What's your name? (he repeats )
Typical! I know his type! But, why jeopardise my chances? Besides, I figure, a certain level of disclosure is necessary when entering into these Tenancy Agreements. So, I blurt out my surname (That singular response brings the convo to a screeching halt).
PL: Kikuyu Sitaki!
Tribalism is the 'enfant-terrible' of Africa's diversity (BTW, some Indian landlords, unlike Mutisya's nude overtness, take the trouble to cloak their biases. Their version of the story goes something like this: "Sorry, vi vont wegeterians only!" (that standard script, complete with the head-movement and a blank oriental-look marks the end of that 'non-Indians not-need-not-bother' conversation).
Questions: If a public servant like Mutisya can be that blinded by the dizzying reality of our ethnic animosity, who will take on the harrowing task of transforming our 'sick-and-sour' selves? Who will build ethnic-bridges? I have to wonder about the thoughts and sentiments being pedalled among the illiterati in far-flung counties on this issue. This being an election year, I pray for divine wisdom, cohesiveness and national reconciliation (I dare not get started on the TJRC).
This is a battle we (Brigadier and the rest of us Kenyans) must fight. And win!
Later, I had a good mind to call this soldier fellow and respectfully show him the error of his ways. But, before throwing myself to the High Priestly duties of exorcising the demons of tribalism that plague his soul, I was filled with compassion for this burdened man - demonizing a whole tribe must be a heavy load to bear! I wondered about his ability to think or see clearly through his blurred, myopic 'tribal lenses' - what poor vision.
P.S: My heart goes out to the poor troops in his battalion... especially those whose mother-tongues are foreign to the good Brigadier:(.
P.S II: It would be pretentious to say that any of us is blameless. So, before I hurl another huge boulder at the Brig., I'll take a nice, long and hard look at myself... and, as MJ put it, 'make the change!'. Ouch!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Surmountables
A fortnight or so ago, yours truly et al engaged in 'extreme sport'. We embarked on the uphill task of scaling the great Mt. Kilimanjaro!
With our supplies firmly strapped to our backs, we found our way to First Caves... slogged through to the Second Caves before toiling up to the Third Caves... Eventually, we made our way to School Hut, where we launched our final assault on the unforgiving mountain.
At the stroke of mid-night, we embarked on the last leg of our ascent (this is where, as some clever guy put it, team work became an individual sport. For real!).
Up, up & up I laboured! Up past Gillman's Point... dragged my fatigued self through Point Stella... before crawling to, yup, wait for it... Africa's highest peak: point Uhuru.
It took everything I had, and then some! My endurance has not been stretched to such limits in recent memory.
'Why am I here?' my revolting body asked, doing its best to deal with the lower levels of atmospheric oxygen (at that altitude, the air composition does nothing to endear the mountain to the climber)... I tell you the truth, the Kili sights & heights very nearly 'took my breath away', literally.
Anyway, my mute response to the seemingly mindless, self- inflicted toil was turning a deaf ear... (a mind-over-matter moment right there!). ... ignoring the nausea and my aching limbs... & never disregarding the need to pay no heed to the persistent headache that seemed to have 'pitched camp' in my head... (BTW, if you think this sentence is long and winding, try the Zig-Zag section of the Kili-ascent, yo!)... Still, I pressed on.
So, why did I do it?
On one level, I needed time alone with my Maker... time to think things through... On another level, I needed a win, 'motisha' to catapult me to my next challenge!
Thankfully, I managed many wins on this expedition... Now, with my feet firmly 'grounded' in the Plains and with an 'un-clouded' head (pardon the pun), I can safely say that reaching that Pinnacle was well worth the stretch!
With our supplies firmly strapped to our backs, we found our way to First Caves... slogged through to the Second Caves before toiling up to the Third Caves... Eventually, we made our way to School Hut, where we launched our final assault on the unforgiving mountain.
At the stroke of mid-night, we embarked on the last leg of our ascent (this is where, as some clever guy put it, team work became an individual sport. For real!).
Up, up & up I laboured! Up past Gillman's Point... dragged my fatigued self through Point Stella... before crawling to, yup, wait for it... Africa's highest peak: point Uhuru.
It took everything I had, and then some! My endurance has not been stretched to such limits in recent memory.
'Why am I here?' my revolting body asked, doing its best to deal with the lower levels of atmospheric oxygen (at that altitude, the air composition does nothing to endear the mountain to the climber)... I tell you the truth, the Kili sights & heights very nearly 'took my breath away', literally.
Anyway, my mute response to the seemingly mindless, self- inflicted toil was turning a deaf ear... (a mind-over-matter moment right there!). ... ignoring the nausea and my aching limbs... & never disregarding the need to pay no heed to the persistent headache that seemed to have 'pitched camp' in my head... (BTW, if you think this sentence is long and winding, try the Zig-Zag section of the Kili-ascent, yo!)... Still, I pressed on.
So, why did I do it?
On one level, I needed time alone with my Maker... time to think things through... On another level, I needed a win, 'motisha' to catapult me to my next challenge!
Thankfully, I managed many wins on this expedition... Now, with my feet firmly 'grounded' in the Plains and with an 'un-clouded' head (pardon the pun), I can safely say that reaching that Pinnacle was well worth the stretch!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
unrelenting Caller
2007
the Caller beckoned, gently
gently, i dismissed the Call
2008 – 2009
the Caller beckoned rather loudly
i turned away rather hastily
2010
the Caller would not cease
... mercilessly disturbed the peace
"c'mon, you have the wrong number," i insisted
but alas! my plea went unheeded
in sheer frustration, i turned & fled
... afraid to stop & listen... lest i yield
2011
the Caller’s now relentless
completely suckin’ the air out of my one-time ‘quiet’ existence
consumin' a-good-many of my waking moments
so,
saddled with reluctant submission, i’m
slowly succumbing to this unyielding Caller. i’m
silencing the inner critic & i'm
stealthily steering towards my Call.
... any day now!
the Caller beckoned, gently
gently, i dismissed the Call
2008 – 2009
the Caller beckoned rather loudly
i turned away rather hastily
2010
the Caller would not cease
... mercilessly disturbed the peace
"c'mon, you have the wrong number," i insisted
but alas! my plea went unheeded
in sheer frustration, i turned & fled
... afraid to stop & listen... lest i yield
2011
the Caller’s now relentless
completely suckin’ the air out of my one-time ‘quiet’ existence
consumin' a-good-many of my waking moments
so,
saddled with reluctant submission, i’m
slowly succumbing to this unyielding Caller. i’m
silencing the inner critic & i'm
stealthily steering towards my Call.
... any day now!
Friday, June 24, 2011
A cry for my unborn children
I looked at my aunt’s lifeless body, and wept!
... She’s 'been gone' a couple of days now.
BUT, a fortnight or so ago, I reclined on her couch, wasted!
We'd broken bread together, shared our stories and laughed heartily.
Unbeknownst to me, ‘twas a ‘Last Supper’ of sorts¿
...still, on & on we indulged...
merrily chompin’ away her legendary chapattis,
... down to the last morsel.
Oh how such moments evoke many fond childhood memories!
Yes, tata knew how to fill my life (& platter) with ‘all things nice!’
No, nothing could hold a candle to her delightful company & sunny disposition.
I cry for my unborn children,
They, who’ll never be held in her loving arms,
Nor see her warm smile and loving eyes,
Never-mind hear her hearty and body-shaking laugh – 'twas just spectacular!
It saddens me that they’ll never be touched by a heart so beautiful.
I cry for me too.
... BUT, I know that it is well!
Someday… we’ll see you on the other side.
When that happens, I shall introduce you to my entire tribe.
... THEN, we’ll catch up on lost time...
Till then tata,
R.I.P!
... She’s 'been gone' a couple of days now.
BUT, a fortnight or so ago, I reclined on her couch, wasted!
We'd broken bread together, shared our stories and laughed heartily.
Unbeknownst to me, ‘twas a ‘Last Supper’ of sorts¿
...still, on & on we indulged...
merrily chompin’ away her legendary chapattis,
... down to the last morsel.
Oh how such moments evoke many fond childhood memories!
Yes, tata knew how to fill my life (& platter) with ‘all things nice!’
No, nothing could hold a candle to her delightful company & sunny disposition.
I cry for my unborn children,
They, who’ll never be held in her loving arms,
Nor see her warm smile and loving eyes,
Never-mind hear her hearty and body-shaking laugh – 'twas just spectacular!
It saddens me that they’ll never be touched by a heart so beautiful.
I cry for me too.
... BUT, I know that it is well!
Someday… we’ll see you on the other side.
When that happens, I shall introduce you to my entire tribe.
... THEN, we’ll catch up on lost time...
Till then tata,
R.I.P!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I prayed for rain... but nearly went ballistic when it came pouring!
In an earlier blog-post I had made mention of my interest in "plunging ...(finger-first)" into the caring waters of Customer Service. This was going to happen in the sweet by and by… I must admit that from the comfort of 2010, the year 2012 seemed way out yonder… somehow, somehow, I figured, I still had time to get my act together... but alas!
Fast forward: A really cosy evening in January 2011... I am relaxed, minding my own business, when suddenly... ring, ring... I answer the call, and it is from someone that knows someone I know (... this ‘Small-World’ phenomenon is just plain wonderful, huh?!).
Request: My availability to facilitate Customer Service training.
Response: Let’s just say, the next two days were marked with uber-activity in the name of preparation: net-surfing, info-gathering, fact-finding… then came sorting, reviewing, editing, consulting… Jo!
Lesson: With every rising sun, answers to prayers are that much closer to unfolding... better be chonjo... in season and out of season!
Results: ‘Glory, glory, hallelujah’ was the melody roaring in my heart when my debut, solo-flight touched the ground three days later... the trainees were still on-board... and alive!
... So, if you see me rocking a trench coat, an umbrella and a pair of gum-boots (ok., that’s a bit of an over-kill) in the hot Nairobi sun, don’t worry about me, I haven’t lost touch with myself. I’m only eagerly awaiting ‘the coming rains” … and, staying in tune with my 2011 mantra: “... Any day now!”
Fast forward: A really cosy evening in January 2011... I am relaxed, minding my own business, when suddenly... ring, ring... I answer the call, and it is from someone that knows someone I know (... this ‘Small-World’ phenomenon is just plain wonderful, huh?!).
Request: My availability to facilitate Customer Service training.
Response: Let’s just say, the next two days were marked with uber-activity in the name of preparation: net-surfing, info-gathering, fact-finding… then came sorting, reviewing, editing, consulting… Jo!
Lesson: With every rising sun, answers to prayers are that much closer to unfolding... better be chonjo... in season and out of season!
Results: ‘Glory, glory, hallelujah’ was the melody roaring in my heart when my debut, solo-flight touched the ground three days later... the trainees were still on-board... and alive!
... So, if you see me rocking a trench coat, an umbrella and a pair of gum-boots (ok., that’s a bit of an over-kill) in the hot Nairobi sun, don’t worry about me, I haven’t lost touch with myself. I’m only eagerly awaiting ‘the coming rains” … and, staying in tune with my 2011 mantra: “... Any day now!”
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