Crime

He always seem successful
And our laws always unhelpful
For though our nation be wonderful
With its people so beautiful
Some deeds herein are dreadful
And makes our state awful

Like a deer we stay in fear
For we know not what we’ll hear
As danger seem always near
That to us is really clear
Someone must help us here

Like a deer that always will pray
That it won’t soon be prey
To the enemy which will its life slay
That too also we pray
For our life seem to be on a tray
A tray made of clay

Our problem now turn mental
Yea, we can no longer settle
And in our mind sounds an echo
For we lament the making of metal
And wish all people were gentle
And learn that life is brittle

Yet our law will always fail
To take the criminal to jail
So that the crime it will nail
That’s why the nation will wail
And has no pretty a tale.

The Crackdown

At Sondu High School, the school nurse was growing fatigued and bored. For the last three weeks, she had had to endure the awful smell from the pathetically wounded feet of the students. She had had no time to rest as student after student streamed in at least for some bit of her medical attention.

On the waiting bench outside, the looks on the faces of those boys told the story. Needless to say, they were going through a tough time. The boys had tried their best to be men enough but for how long would that be? The tears would flow down their faces in a drop-wise manner reminding you of those droppers in the laboratories. Their feet looked as though they had been soaked in some acidic medium overnight.

It was during the El-Nino rains of 1997 and flooding was the hue and consistency of virtually every part of the nation and the schools were not exceptions. As a result the shoes of students could not last long and most of them had succumbed to the tearing El-Nino forces faster than to the normal wear and tear. Few students at this time had their shoes in good wearing condition. Most of the shoes had spaces to welcome waters falling from above and also entertained waters that came through the backdoor; that is the waters that came through a condition that I call the Shoe Leaking syndrome.

And the feet of most of the students were in a terrible state especially because in a school they were meant to be in shoes for the better part of their life. Yet this did not matter to the school nurse now. She needed some space. Some fresh air. She needed some time to sit and think of herself and carry on her life as she desired. So she was gathering her courage to go to the principal’s office to demand some reinforcement.
After thinking it over and over, she decided to take the courage since this seemed to her the most decisive act any human being in her shoes would take. She did not even remember that in an office of that status, knocking precedes entry. And even before Mr. Githinji the principal could protest at her most intrusive, most unexpected entry, she was already up in arms.
“Mr. Principal, I came to tell you that things are getting out of hand and….!”
“And what? Getting out of hand to where? Why don’t you just hold them tight in hand?” the principal interrupted trying the humor he has always employed in crisis management. But this time his sense of humor was out of place and unwanted. Before him stood an iron lady who had had enough.
And the nurse went on, “and I will not continue slaving in the hands of people who do not seem to put themselves in my shoes!”
“And what is it about Miss Kimani? Come on take it easy.” The principal now cooled down and asked with a look of concern on his face. So the nurse carried on, “ Mr. Principal, are you aware that soon all the boys in this school will be under medication?” the nurse was now looking at the principal cautiously with a half smile and half worry on her pretty face.
“ Reason being?” asked the Principal, moving round his seat and holding his spectacles as if to say that such things do not happen; not when Mr. Githinji is in control. And the nurse continued, “well, Mr. Githinji Sir, over the last three weeks I have treated two hundred cases of athletes feet which is a pretty third of the school.”
And the principal interrupted, now standing and placing his huge spectacles on the table and dipping his hands in the pockets of his brown checked blazer, “You mean two hundred boys treated once? And not twenty boys treated ten times ?”
Correct Mr. Principal” answered the nurse.
“And you still have enough medicine in that dispensary?” the principal was now actually concerned that soon the school dispensary would need some funding, the last thing he would have thought about.
“Well, Mr. Principal we are soon running out of medicine. But that’s not the point!” the nurse replied as the principal supported his head with his hands as though it was about to run off. And the nurse continued gathering all the necessary courage enough to thrust her next statement, “if your office does not do something to save this situation, I will resign! I need reinforcement!”
So now the nurse stood there watching the principal who was inhaling the words and trying to make some sense therein. He was known to respond as soon as there was something worthy of response. The nurse was in her white clinical garments and when the principal looked at her and saw her cute hairstyle, her pretty face and those lips painted pink coupled with her perfect body conformation. When he imagined how nice she looks walking on those school pavements. When he contemplated how the boys would respond at the loss of such a beautiful and compassionate nurse. It was time to be smart. In other words the nurse was an asset the school could not afford to lose. Not under the circumstances.
So the principal composed himself and faced the nurse, “Well Miss Kimani. I see what you are going through. I am sorry for that. If I had heard of it before I would definitely have done something. But please, I beg you to continue working as I look at the situation.”
“And then?” the nurse asked showing some measure of doubt in the way the principal was handling the situation. The principal replied, “I will get back to you as soon as possible”. So the nurse returned to the dispensary to attend to the students.
The principal thought hard. Eventually he had to act. He did not even see the need to respect the school program any more. Or what sense was there to continue teaching boys who were in pain? He called an urgent staff meeting. The teachers wondered what the meeting was about and why the meeting had no notice as should be the case. May be our employer has an important circular. They thought.
The principal started the meeting without a greeting, without a prayer or even a word of introduction.
“We cannot continue teaching when the boys are suffering. Are you aware that athletes’ feet are affecting almost every student in this school?”
The Deputy Principal Mr. Wanjau was the first to answer. “So, Mr. Principal. Ok. We get the point. But I hope you are not suggesting that we close down the school.”
“What do you suggest yourself?” asked the principal, looking restless and desperate. He needed a solution yesterday. And then Mr. Wanjau continued calmly, “I hope you are aware that El-Nino is in the whole country including their homes and there is no way they will run away from it.”
There was a heated discussion as the teachers sought a solution. And one teacher who observed as her colleagues argued thought she had a solution that would work. So she raised her hand.
Well Mrs. Kiogora, so you think you have something to tell us? Go ahead. We are listening.” The principal said. And the room was quiet to hear from this lady who talked only when she had to.
“My dear colleagues, I realize that this menace has not affected all the boys. It has not hit any teacher yet…” Go on! They said.
“I think this has to do with the shoes those boys put on. They are terrible. Actually some of those are not shoes but examples of shoes if not illusions of shoes.”
Now the teachers were getting some hope of getting a solution to the situation at the feet of the boys.
And the Deputy Principal said, “We have to stop the boys from wearing worn out shoes as much as possible.”
“And tell them to put on what?” another teacher asked.
“Don’t you think their feet are safer shoeless than with those examples of shoes?” asked Mr. Wanjau.
So the teachers continued to debate the issue and after a lengthy debate, Mr. Kamanja the discipline master called for order. “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen; I have a solution.”
“We are listening!” said the principal looking so keen his head would crack.
“We shall have a crackdown.” Said Mr. Kamanja smiling and swinging his body sideways.
“A crackdown on what?”, sounded the chorus.
“On unfootworthy shoes.” Mr. Kamanja answered.
“And then?” went on the chorus. Things were getting exciting here.
“ And then confiscate all the unfootworthy shoes and send the culprits home for better shoes so that …..” the principal interrupted, “ That’s okay Mr. Kamanja. It’s alright. But what criteria shall we use to determine an unfootworthy shoe?”
“That’s very simple Principal.” one of the teachers, a Mrs. Waweru replied.
“How simple?” asked the Principal, “Explain further.”
And Mrs Weru stood to illustrate, “well. Any shoe that has an open edge that makes it look like a Tilapia fish is unfootworthy.”
“Aha!” sounded the chorus and Mrs. Weru continued, “And any shoe that has a crack or a hole anywhere on the sole”.
“Go on!” sounded the chorus.
“And any shoe that has an opening on top save the place to insert the foot and the holes for the laces is also unfootworthy for this purpose.”
Finally the criterion was determined and as the teachers left for the meeting, the students were called for an assembly that was meant to be ‘The Crackdown’. And the following day half of the boys were sent home not to collect school fees balance. But to come with new shoes that met the prescribed standard.
Of course this conformed to the characteristic manner in which we guys here handle crisis. We never conceive or comprehend crisis. That is negative thinking and utter pessimism. We hope for the best; or why should someone hope for the worst? And when the worst does happen, we say it is unfortunate, it is not our making. We say we are not rainmakers or even responsible for the forces that shake the universe. We call ourselves unfortunate and wonder why others are blaming us for what we did not cause. SO crackdowns are common here. We see them on the roads, and on the streets. I hope one day we will get ourselves out of this style.

The Smart Enemy

I have known a smart enemy
Who accompanies people on a ferry
So behaves like an ally
And interrupts not their merry
Enemies like he are not many
So he makes a unique story
Sweeter like one from granny

He puts their life in danger
But on his face there is no anger
That’s why they keep him longer
For they know not there is a stranger
And with him is loaded danger

So they carry on their fun
Splinters of love they fan
And do what virtues will ban
And when the task is done
Sign of danger there is none

When they know they must yield
They hear there is a shield
And they carry it to the field
Know not what the enemy will build
Do they even have him in mind?

And when they feel weak
Or even somehow sick
In them there is not a chink
To let them know they are sick
So their tongue they will just click

But finally they will lie
Yea, even they will die
And so many will sigh
Yet the enemy draws nigh
And his wisdom is high
And if they do not keep an eye
Even then soon they will die.

The enemy is called Aids
Every hour and minute he raids
And though much has been said
And even much money’s been paid
We have always fallen in his cage
All no matter what the age
But now we can turn a new page
And say tis time the enemy we will raid.

My Kitchen

For a long time i have never had any worries about the food i will eat. I have lived with people i have trusted with my stomach and i always knew that at the proper time a table will be laid before me with food in the right quantities(very important), right tastes and so on. I have told my mun many times that she is a wonderful cook and with my siblings we have always been her fans in that respect. The kind of meals that my mums cooks are so charactersitic and unique. My mum can cook even stuff you would never imagine someone cooking. On several occasions you would be surprised to find some rumours of sweet potatoes in some kienyeji collection or a pawpaw in some pumpkin stew. I am forever indebted to my mum for that and especially also for coaching me in this faculty that a man would rather be ignorant about.

I know God loves me so much because after having been brought up by a wonderful cook, i would then have the most adventurous, creative and powerful cook as my wife. I find my sweetheart Hellen a woman of her kind. Have you ever met someone who can convert any cereal, vegetable, grain, fruit etc into the sweetest and most delicious food? With her in my life, my concern has just been to ensure that all these stuff are available and then just relax to watch her industries and activities make it to happen. I mean, its just so incredible. Because of her i have come to know so many edible stuff and so may tastes. And with that kind of person in your life, who needs any other human being to be masqueradinng as your cook. With all due respect and without loss of generality, i say i am just too blessed and i have the best lady to take care of me.

But here comes the other side of the story. Of course, somehow, somewhat, I have had to accept that food in my house can be prepared by someone whose skills i did not vet and who i may not question. I mean, many times i wonder why the same fire, the same sufurias, the same cuttlery i have always had in my house would prepare food that i do not want to look at. when they talk of unity in diversity, they must have been thinking from where i am now. I now know that there are different ways of cooking but the same food is cooked. I now know that even ugali that only needs flour and water and fire to prepare can taste so different until you are tempted to read the ingredients on the packet.

Yesterday i was chatting with my sweetheart about this. It was after dinner and we were analyzing some of the changes that we have been going through since we got our househelp. She is very hardworking and her passion is not a secret. Of course the sad part is that when someone is so passionate about what they do but they are doing it contrary to your expectation, you are in for rude shocks. Or how else would you describe this situation? We come with two kilograms of meat, sukumawiki, terere and spinach enough for a whole week. I remember hearing my sweetheart give very clear instructions on what should be done. Very simple instructions like, "slice the meat in small cubes and pack it in aout four plastic bags before putting in the fridge. Wash the vegetables first and then cut it and pack it before putting in the fridge."

The instructions were clear. But there must have been some revelation from God knows where. Within to time, our kitchen was like a factory. And i was shocked when i smelt boiling meat, boiling terere. And someone passionately and vigilantly working as though to beat a deadline. It was not pleasing at all and we had no words to express the disapointment. I only remember jokingly saying, "Babie next time when you give instructions, let there be a declaration to be signed with all those instructions and let the closing line be, I declare that i have read the istructions herein and i fully understand what i am expected to do".

I know this is a hard time for me and i have to endure what i used to enjoy. At least i'm excited as i wait for the coming of our baby. I know God will grant me the patience to take the kitchen products and still sing, " Don't worry, be happy."

Wangari Mathai

I know i have not interacted closely with Professor Wangari Mathai to be the best person to write about her. Of course i boast that we are both alumni of the University Of Nairobi. She also comes from my neigbouring district.When i was a first year at the University of Nairobi, i attended a lecture that she was giving at University of Nairobi, Taifa Hall. Taifa Hall will tell you that it has been a place for perhaps some of the best refined speeches from the true heroes and heroines of Kenya.

Listening to Professor Mathai was a moment well spent. She represented the good values we must fight to keep. She was proud of her ascent and it never bothered her and she was truly Kenyan. She believed in simplicity since she knew it is only when you forget yourself that you can impact the world.

Wangari Maathai was infected for life with the passion that drives men and women to do things that do not make sense to the short sighted. She suffered from the charisma that tears the hearts of stone. She battled with the courage that scares the simple hearted. She spoke with the conviction that turns the hearts of generations. She walked in the strength that knows no defeat and lived on the faith that moves mountains.

Many thought that Wangari's struggle was just about the environment. But hers was far beyond what an ordinary mind can conceive. Wangari fought for the dignity of life, equality and justice. She fought for a better world for all. She suffered for the joy and abundance of generations present and generations to come.

If you asked her what would stop her from the pursuit of peace, a better future and the many ideals she stood for, i'm sure she would tell you that nothing would. Not teargas and blows, not insults and threats, not sickness and infirmity. Not gender or status or tribe. Yeah, not even death because her legacy is very alive even after she is gone.

I once heard a preacher say, " When we came in this world, the first thing we did was cry. And we must live such a life of impact that when we die, the world will cry." That is just what Wangari did. She leaves a world that feels at loss. She leaves a nation that wonders why it has to lose only its best. She leaves a generation that needed a champion. She leaves shoes that few would want to wear.

Whenever Wangari opened her mouth, we all wanted to hear. I remember one time when Students of Egerton University went on strike to protest against the destruction of Mau Forest. They did it the normal way univerity students do. Some of them stoned cars, robbed citizens and engaged police in running battles. And Professor Wangari Mathai had a food for thought. And she said, " I wish our young men were more candid when protesting. If i were them, i would go to Mau Forest holding a tree on one hand and a stone on the other hand. Then i would throw the stone to the person who tries to stop me from planting my tree."

I know we all have much to say about our very own Wangari Mathai. May her soul rest in eternal peace and may her legacy be the next outbreak to be seen in Kenya.

Town Food

With time i am beginning to realize why my Dad is always reluctant of eating food outside home. For all the time i have known him, my dad has always avoided eating outside home, sleeping outside home even when he is required to be in a conference. We used to laugh about it but at the same time feel proud of a husband and father who took family as priority. At least he set a good example. Perhaps i am following after his footsteps. But for the part of eating outside home i have failed terribly. I can excuse myself and say the set up has changed tremendously and the only way i will eat food cooked at home during the day is either i carry packed lunch or go to the house over lunch hour. I guess the manly ego restrains me from the former and the time constraint restrains me from the latter. So i am only left with the option of fasting which as a matter of fact doesn't happen daily and actually people like me are still a great assignment the Lord has to do to bring to a level where fasting will be a part of normal life. In short, i cannot help eating here and there.

So during the day, i go this way, i go that way. I eat this, i eat that. Of course i grew up in the village so my menu is not diverse. I once went to a Chinese restaurant and no sooner had i sat on the table than i left. This is because when the menu was brought, i did not understand it. I had no clue of any food on that menu and you know they do not bring samples to the table. When i was growing up in the village, i was fed with stereotypes especially on the eating habits of other cultures and the contents of their diets and of course somehow cheated that only my culture knows what real food is and how it should be taken. But modernity is slowly catching up with me and once in a while i do some adventure. I also want to have a sentence to say when i go somewhere and somebody mentions pizza, burger, mayonasse, you see. Of course this is at a risk because some bellies like mine are highly reactive and can protest at any foreign and unfamiliar matter especially if it comes without notice or premeditation.

So on Friday last week i went through what is called driving in modern terms;let the reader understand. I am still trying to trace the root cause of that explosive reaction.It was actually highly explosive and a certain small room in my house can give a testimony. If you want to know the gravity of that matter ask my sweetheart, or my sister and they will tell you that for the better part of the weekend, i abstained from food. I was not fasting. And i could not settle on the seat even while watching a very captivating movie because i was being driven externally by some fierce internal forces that were causing some cyclic imbalances within my system. A saying in my language says, "he who has a running belly seeks the bush". So seeking the crucial room was paramount.

I had to dig to the depth of that matter and try to find out what i should strike out from my menu forever. A careful and detailed analysis takes me to Wednesday lunch when a colleague asked me out for lunch. I work in Westy and you can be sure we went to a place where the menu should have been accompanied by samples and additional notes. And while i was there struggling with the menu, he said, " No need to struggle. Just replicate my choice." And he mentioned something like chips masala, two sausages and egg something. I just smiled at the waiter and said,"likewise, and some passion juice."

As we unleashed our potential, we talked about the ICC proceedings at the Hague, and whether those Kenyans had a case to answer . We wondered why the weather has changed so much to an extent that it would be cold in September. We laughed at some of the happenings that take place in our workplace. And before we could even notice, we had subdued the mountain on the table. So we went back to the office very energized. I cannot say with surety that my stomach was perfect from that time but if if felt something strange, i must have taken it lightly; after all this world is not my home. But on Friday evening, my attention was drawn to some situations within me that would begin to cause some overflows. I suspect whatever i took after Wednesday did not augur well with the foreigners in my belly and some nutritional clashes must have taken place.

I know i still don't have the courage to transport food from my house to the office and daily fasting might take a little longer to materialize. But i will hate to see a repeat of the situation i went through over the weekend. I mean, weekends are meant to be full of life and vitality and moving around for good reasons. I need to either shun new diets or have a plan to gradually introduce myself to these diets. May be start with having a piece of kebab on my githeri, or a drop of mayonasse on my rice and if no reaction takes place then these quantities can be increased progressively. I know there are still so many items i still have no idea of on those menus, like, did they call it Kolobot Chicken or something? I have never been complicated and i would rather there were simpler menus. By the way some of us prefer going to these small restaurants for that very reason; there you can tell what exactly is on the menu and the waiters there don't weng too much when they are explaining the menu.

The Fundi Factor

I have one proposal to make to our beloved government as we look into the instruments of vision 2030. That they create a body that will regulate all fundis since these guys have proved over time that they can never regulate themselves. I am serious on this matter. And if possible let it be done this year and let it be fixed creatively within Michuki's docket.The first step in this should be to legislate a regulatory body that will be tasked to license all Fundis. Within this regulatory body which they can Call 'Fundis Regulatory Commission', there should be sub-departments like Department of Carpentry and Joinery,Department of Tailoring and Clothing, Department of Metal and Hard Stuff, Department of Leather and Leather Products to mention but a few. And then there should be a Complaints and Grievances desk which i'm sure will need quite a good number of staff. That way we will create jobs but more importantly save Kenyans from frustrations and uncalled for wastage of time and money that they have have had to endure in the hands of fundis.Some legal expert can help me how to frame this to make it fit within the context of county governments.

As i say this i register my sympathies to all beloved Kenyans who have had to do their weddings in unfinished attires or have had to buy ready mades on Saturday morning since the fundi has either done a shoddy job or is Mteja at the hour of reckoning. My heartfelt sympathies to all those who have had to get additional support to their bed, or table because they could not stand on their own and the fundi insists its your floor that is uneven. And how can i forget those who have had to wear slippers to work because the fundi disappeared with the only begotten shoe.The Kenyan definition of a fundi is someone who by their very nature forgets to use a tool at the right time and when they must use it, they have to use it wrongly. Someone must come to our aid.

I have had my own pretty measure of woes in the hands of fundis and i know i have swore many times never to ever get anywhere near a fundi except it be on family or religious grounds. I don't know how i always find myself occasionally looking for them. Its like the things i do not want to do are the things i find myself doing. This morning i got to work late after i had agreed with a fundi who was making some stuff for me that it will be ready at 7:30 a.m. and that i would just clear the balance and have it delivered to my house. That was after he failed to meet his Saturday last week deadline and an extended deadline of Monday evening. I had to extend the deadline to today evening and i hope this is the last time i'm doing this. I am not happy. Of course the justification of a fundi is far beyond question. He will tell you how he does not want to hurry and do a shoddy job; which is good enough. He will tell you how he wishes you were seeing things from his view and how letting a customer down has never been and will never be his portion. Actually when you are called customer, you are defeated by that love. I have never known why the name customer always finishes many people and makes them stop complaining. I mean, its like when you come home angry and you are called sweetheart. In many instances you are melted down. Of course it depends on how low your melting point is because many of us are more prone to boiling than to melting.

SO i have found many Kenyans boiling in the presence of Fundis. I once went to pick a suit that was being made for me by a Fundi in the City Centre, which became my last suit to be made locally, not because i do not want to promote local industries but because i do not want to lose my head in the process. So when i was there giving a piece of my mind to the fundi,a couple came to check their wedding attire for a wedding which was two days to come. I tell you it was fire. The clothes were not done and the bride was getting hysterical and the man had to prove he can handle situations like that even as he goes to marriage. The fundi would have been beaten properly if it were not for our intervention. Of course we were equally frustrated, only that we did not want another kind of post election violence.

So i hope this afternoon my piece of furniture will be done. I do not want to appear in the headlines for the wrong reasons. I am getting agitated and my beloved Kenyans, let me tell you i can boil and i boil violently. Somebody keep an eye on me and hold me fast if you do not see my hands in the pocket. I hope i will sleep counting my accomplishments and not my frustrations. Oh my, i hope this day is good. Someone tell that Fundi i don't tolerate any nonsense. I wish you all a lovely time and may God save us from the fundi agony that has caused so many tears and so many ulcers. Tunaomba serikali.