Freedom from boredom walk

Last Sunday I did something you may call strange. I left my house at three in the afternoon and walked to town. Now why would I do something medieval like that? What could have possessed me, etc, etc?

Earlier in the week, the matatu (public transport) guys in Nairobi went on strike. By the time I got into the city center from work, all matatus were steadfastly going nowhere until the striker’s grievances were sorted out. So there I was at the end of my day, a little fatigued but even more frustrated that I couldn’t get home when I wanted. What to do? Being the practical and impatient chap that I am I took matters into my own hands (or feet) and decided to go ‘route 11’. I started walking in the general direction of South B (where I live) until perhaps I came across a matatu willing to ferry me home. Well, the said matatu hadn’t shown up by the time I was a quarter way home but by that time it wouldn’t have mattered. I had already made up my mind to leg it all the way. And I made it. Walking at a leisurely pace, I was home in an hour or so, quite pleased with myself.

Back to last Sunday. It was around two in the afternoon and I was home alone, feeling rather miserable about how uneventful my weekend had been. My financial status was also rather grim so I didn’t have options like going for a movie or calling up someone for an impromptu date. I had laundry to do but with my low morale that wasn’t going to happen just then.

Somewhere in the midst of my pity-party I felt the one thing that would make me feel better instantly was some movement. But movement to where? Aah, yes! (A bright idea moment.) I instantly recalled having walked home earlier in the week; why not try walking to town instead? In fact, why not walk there and back? That would give me an ‘event’ to fill up what was left of the weekend. I also love walking so the exercise would definitely cheer me up.

Problem solved, in the shower I jumped and 15 minutes later I was out of the house whistling some tune. Or humming, can’t remember which.

After a brief stopover at my favorite groundnut seller I set off chewing cheerfully on my journey. It was strangely hot for a day in our winter (July-August) and a bit uncomfortable after a while. I even had to remove the light sports jacket I was wearing lest it got drenched in sweat. Apart from the heat, I don’t recall much of my walk to town, except walking behind this lady who didn’t seem to be going very fast but for some reason I couldn’t get past her. I later realized it was because she had long legs. It didn’t take much for her to stay ahead of me.

This time my walk to town took me thirty minutes, almost to the second. By now I was out of my misery zone and was trying to decide where to go next. Nakumatt, maybe. I could always kill time doing some shelf gazing. As I got closer to Nakumatt, I changed my mind. Why not go to Central Park? It had been a while since I visited and I honestly needed to sit down and cool off. That turned out to be the best decision I’d made all weekend.

So I got to the park and like I always do, I let my eyes casually absorb the scene. As I took it all slowly in I eased myself into an empty spot on a bench and started to take mental notes.

Let me describe the categories of people I saw. Some college-student groups were seated in circles: they looked rather C.U. (Christian Union)-ish. Others were mixed age groups, with toddlers to primary school kids and adults, kicking a football around: definitely families. Most interesting was one group that had some ladies of mixed age and I believe mixed religions. Perhaps they were members of a ladies self-help group or an NGO. Several in this group wore bright headscarves and similarly bright dresses while others were in jeans. They had a group of kids with them and together they were doing some nice little jig with their hands on their hips. It looked like they were having so much fun; I couldn’t help smiling. Then of course there were the loners (like moi). These were mostly seated on benches but some were on the grass. They didn’t talk to each other much but they definitely had something in common. All were staring misty eyed into the distance seemingly deep in thought. In between thoughts they would lazily look at the people around them then zone out again. So close yet so far from it all. Weirdoes.

How could I forget? Last but not least were the lovers. Ha! You never go to the park and not see these. For a society that isn’t too keen on public display of affection (ok, apart from a few), once we hit our public parks all inhibitions are thrown to the wind. It’s cuddling time! Ninety-nine percent of the couples I could see were lying in the grass with at least fifty percent of their bodies touching. The most common pose was one person sitting with their legs apart while the other one lay with half their bodies in the sitting ones’ lap. And these were the modest ones. The more ambitious lay side by side facing each other, legs intertwined, with hardly any breathing space between! The man in this setup always seemed to be whispering his undying loyalty, looking intently at his woman’s face, while the woman stared sheepishly aside, trying to decide whether her dude was for real or not. Yet again I saw a societal norm turned on its head: I thought that Kenyan men were all intimacy phobics.

Interwoven in all my musings was a constant thought. How easy it is to have a good time! One doesn’t need to have lots of money to go to fancy places in order to enjoy life. I mean, look at all these people living it up in a free public space for hours on end. The weirdoes and families and lovers around me had discovered this secret yet I’d spent most of my weekend watching series after series and sleeping.

I walked back home later that evening with my pocket empty but my heart full: full of memories of laughing families and cuddling lovers.

Film star goes broke.

What I have I done lately? Let me start with the more exciting stuff. Two weekends ago I was at a video shoot. My lil bro and his pals were doing a pilot for some show they hope will air on telly and guess who was part of the cast? Yeah, ME! (ok, save your adoration for when I'm truly famous). I was acting as an MD giving awards at a ceremony...but do I brag? Got a chance to wear my first suit in years, and I must say I looked good! I'll post a picture for y'all to admire once they're published.

That shoot was an awesome experience I must say. A film set is such an exciting place...so many people milling about at once. The crew, makeup, wardrobe, extras and of course the main cast. The government and especially their almost non-functional body (Kenya Film Commission) need to do some serious promotion of our movie industry. An average film set employs quite a few people and we need more jobs right?

Especially for young folk. So much potential and only a limited number of avenues to exploit it.

July has been a tough month. People either have my money and aren't paying, or they're going for trips just when I was hoping to collect. Manze mwezi huu nimesota kweli! But it's all good. August will be fabulous...I can feel it!

Blast loosens tongues!

Why is it that on a regular day in the city, folk rarely find anything to say to each other? Unless they need directions, are trying to pull a fast one on an unsuspecting victim OR like today there has been a mysterious blast?

How tongues have wagged in Nairobi since news of the blast! Everyone seems to know someone that "...was there just five minutes before it happened!". Complete strangers are elbow to elbow on Moi Avenue this moment trying to catch a glimpse of the site as well as find out what really went down. At my favourite diner I even got to chat up some cute waitress that I've been err....oops, digression :-)

This reminds me of the last time I saw people talk so much in Nairobi. It was in early 2008, just after the botched elections. Everyone was talking to anyone whether in a matatu, restaurant, street corner, etc. Where I was working at the time, for weeks we only managed to do two hours of real work a day before some hot conversation would come up about our 'current crisis'. Nothing like good old fashioned death knocking at our doors to get us talking, eh?

If we could find other things we have in common (apart from disasters) that could cause complete strangers to talk, how quickly issues like tribalism, etc. would be brought out in the open and hopefully resolved. Wishful thinking?

From exhaustion to revelation

I cannot remember being busier than I have been the last two weeks. On and on, the calls kept coming, every day and every client with different issues. This often meant me getting up at no later than 5 a.m. every morning (sometimes 4.30 a.m.!) just so I could have time to collect my wits as I prepared to leave the house. I have long realised that bolting out of bed and into the bathroom then my clothes and out the door makes a forgetful, confused and irritable me.

So that has been my fortnight; up at cockcrow, work like mad all day then drag myself home and into bed at 9 or 10 p.m. I sound like I'm complaining...I really shouldn't. Okay, so I really missed sleeping in especially now that the mornings are so cold. I'd try and catch a nap in the matatu as I rode to town but there was so much on my mind that my eyes just couldn't stay shut. Before I knew it we were in the city and I was sprinting off to put out whatever fire my first client of the day had lit.

When I'd finally be through with client number two, which was around 2 or even (in extreme cases) 4 p.m., THEN the sleep would come; in great waves and so thick that I'd feel like I was actually passing out instead of falling asleep. Off I'd go to my favourite eating spot to gobble down a late lunch after which I'd head over to a cyber cafe for an hour or so of surfing.

If by the time I was through it was rush hour, then I'd decide there's no way I'm going to stand in a queue for goodness knows how long (in my weakened state) so I'd go have a drink alone for an hour or two until I thought the queue at the matatu stage was gone or at least greatly reduced. The rest is obvious; matatu, home, bed.

Miserable as this sounds, there is a good side to all this. I have actually improved discipline-wise. Wheras I used to find it incredibly hard to sacrifice an extra hour of blanket time in the morning, nowadays it's almost a piece of cake. I say 'almost' because I don't always leap out of bed immediately I wake up, but my response time is WAY better than what is was. So I guess I should be happy, especially since I get the feeling that this stressful couple of weeks was a preparation for something great in the near future. As I'm thinking about that, my heart beats a little faster and I have a slight grin on my face. A new phase in my life is forming, and I can hardly wait to see what it is.

Oh boy!

Mavuno tele...white and black

For those who remember, I once vowed never to darken Mavuno church’s doorstep after they almost ruined a weekly meeting I’d really gotten to like. Well, like the man that I am, I’ve changed my mind *blushing in shame*. Unbelievably, I’ve become quite a regular at the church’s Sunday services. What happened to make me alter my previously militant stand?

I can’t quite put my finger on it but my current excuse is that I need to have something to talk about at the weekly meeting with my friends. Since the meeting includes discussing the previous Sunday’s sermon, well, how else to have something relevant to say than to attend service and take notes?

The experience hasn’t entirely been a waste of time if I can be honest. Some of the sermons have been pretty insightful. I also like that every week they feature testimonies from real people who’ve had real issues like alcohol, sex and drug addictions, which they overcame and are now helping others do the same. That’s really cool. That kind of boldness is what the church needs if it is to attain the perfection that the Lord requires of it.

One peculiar thing about the services though. Before the preacher comes on, there’s normally two people (male and female) on stage who give announcements and do a back and forth comedy skit. Sometimes they’re funny. Other times I feel like they’re the only ones getting their jokes. They praise the audience quite a bit too, making sure they always tell us how lovely we’re looking plus asking us to tell our neighbour the same thing (just in case they weren’t listening?) But no matter how many times I try and avoid thinking this way, I always end up wondering: is all that pre-sermon entertainment really necessary? I mean, really?

Ok, I understand that Mavuno is a happening church and the people in charge want to spice things up a bit. But sometimes I think they’re in danger of straying from the essence of what Christ said the church was to come together for. When I read the gospels, I see that when Christ had a message to preach he did it in plain language and using parables. There isn’t any record of him going out of his way to coat his message with song dance to make it easier to swallow. His basic method of preaching was to talk to his audience and get them to understand his message, not to give them a good time, but to tell them the truth which would set them free.

When I go further and read about normal activity in the early church after Christ resurrected it appears that what they regularly did was (Acts2:42) to continue in the apostles’ doctrine (the Word), breaking bread (the Lord’s supper), fellowship (social interaction, discussion) and prayers. Later verses in the same book and in others say they praised God in song too. So we can infer from this that the meetings were not a dull affair. However I fear what we have nowadays is focused more on tickling our fancies with entertainment and jokes, you know, to get us to feel really good after the sermon.

Perhaps, someone may say, if you don’t do something to catch the audience’s attention they will not listen to the message. I get it. Thanks to television, radio and the internet we have non-stop entertainment bombarding us from all sides. So much so that a lot of us have become entertainment junkies with short attention spans. But surely, if you give an addict more of what made them sick in the first place, aren’t you just making their condition worse?

A price on Santa's head!

Hey y'all!

Something wierd happened...last year I put up a very anti-christmas post here and guess what: in less than a week it was gone. That's right: deleted! Someone definitely hacked into my account.

My primest suspect is Santa; he'd better run and hide. Punk!

I'm free. Finally.

This is one of the few times that I'll be annoyingly secretive. I have something that's really been bugging me lately. Today, after days of agony it feels totally gone and I'm really elated. The weather's conspiring too to make my mood even better. Nothing but brilliant sunshine since early morn. What a glorious feeling. Peace like a sleeping babe.

Why I'm not telling just yet: I really must be sure that 'the monster's dead before I throw a party and tell the whole world. Plus there are a few smelly bits of monster droppings lurking around somewhere that I must clean out.

Until then, just share my joy and be happy for me. That's all I had to say.