Showing posts with label Kiss FM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kiss FM. Show all posts
Genge’s got the gangsta edge, but it doesn’t question the system
Published in The East African, Sunday, January 3, 2010
When I first arrived in Kenya, in late 2008 from South Africa, I didn’t know my “bongo” from my “mambo.” I thought, “They are both styles of music”... Sindio? But I learned the difference quickly, through my love of music and radio. So there I was, endlessly fine-tuning the wireless to the myriad stations that congest Nairobi’s airwaves.
I started listening to Classic FM and Kiss FM, morning and evening, and Capital late at night. I got good politics from Caroline Mutoko and a laugh or two from Larry Asego both of Kiss FM. I heard some fantastic late night mixes on Capital and I thought that Nairobi’s dedicated reggae station, Metro FM was way cool too.
The first “bongo flava” track I ever heard was Ali Kiba’s “Macmugo.” I loved the simple beauty of the song, and the poetic sound of the Tanzanian Kiswahili. The fact that I could discern “South Africa” within the lyrics increased my love for the song too … I downloaded the ringtone.
Since then, I have picked up Kiswahili, kidogo, and have enjoyed Bongo flava coming at me from everywhere: In restaurants, bars and clubs, blaring from matatus and kicking from kiosks. It is light, joyous music. It is sweet, and speaks of love and romance; yearnings of the heart. It is both witness and testimony to the fabled “good heart” of the East African people.
Until now, East Africa has enjoyed the sole franchise on Bongo. The songs have been done exclusively in Kiswahili and the productions have been strictly East African. But there are some new kids on the Bongo block...
Nigerian musicians are suddenly doing Bongo. And they’re doing it better than the Tanzanians. Their sound is much cooler than Tanzanian and Kenyan Bongo. They have raised the bar. Their videos have moved away from the ghetto and into the bling — quite refreshing after the endless singing scenes set in Dar es Salaam. This is something East Africa needs to watch out for in both senses, and with the Nigerians doing Bongo in English, they are inviting all of Anglophone West Africa to “buy Bongo.” That is one large market.
So, East African musicians probably need to listen to Bongo flava from Nigeria if they want to see bigger sales in future (and dealing with piracy will probably help a bit too).
But Bongo tunes from Tanzania are in a class of their own. There’s something soft in Tanzanian Kiswahili that the Kenyan version and Kenyan English fail to match. But then, there is something strong in Nairobi Sheng (slang) that the Tanzanian tongue and English fail to match as well...
If Bongo speaks to the heart, Kenya’s Genge music speaks the mind of a disenchanted youth ...
The sound of Genge, sung in Nairobi Sheng, is superbly suited to this hard, unforgiving city. Bongo is soft. Genge is hard. Very hard. And Genge is the genre with which Nairobi may yet make its mark on African music. Genge is Nairobi, just like gangsta came from East Central LA. These are not coincidences. They are the realities from which “ghetto” creativity stems.
So I have recently taken to a diet of Ghetto Radio and late-night Capital. And I have heard some startling music, made right here in Nairobi. I understand Kiswahili enough now to discern the lyrics, but it’s the sheer power of the Genge rhyming slang — whether you understand it or not — that is so potent.
Genge is clever. It is witty. It is irreverent. One song rhymes the virtues of Nairobi’s take-away chickens (read “chicks”). Another, the hazards of Nairobi streets. The genre is edgy, and is looking hard at local life. I mean, Jua Cali is HOT. The first time I heard him, I stopped in my tracks. All I could say was:
“Mambo mbaaaaaaaaaya!” (Slang for ‘This is cool’).
But so far, even with Genge’s realism, not much of it seriously questions the social order. So here’s a trend I would like to see: Genge lyrics that address real issues facing Kenya. There will be some important listening next year if Genge stops skirting and deals overtly with corruption, poverty, unemployment and a despised government. Surely, this is some of what “urban” genres should be about. And even if radio avoids any conflagration, we know that Nairobi’s music pirates will disseminate the message, haraka sana!
Coming from a background of “resistance music” in South Africa, I know what a powerful force for change music can be. Nothing can resist a force whose time has come. And Kenya’s time has come. One way of making the necessary changes known can be through Genge.
The Three “Esses” in Swahili
The response to my “Swahili Primer” in the last blog was absolutely great. All the closet Zulu fans and Xhosa queens came out of the woodwork at the same time. I immediately got questions about Xhosa terms (uQabandini, said with a full-palate click to the front of the mouth and meaning someone who hasn't been to 'school' but still holds strong opinions), and reams of comparisons between Swahili and the dominant local language in South Africa .
Hey guys, I didn’t realize how tsotsi-literate you all are! The only negative response I got was from The Imp, here in Nairobi , who said my blog should carry a disclaimer to the effect that I either accept NO responsibility for my butchering of the Swahili language, or that I accept FULL responsibility for same. Too late now I guess but hey, I’m trying my best.
But what I have realized is that I wrote the Swahili primer at the very end of a writing day and there was a whole lot I left out – some of the most important stuff actually. So here is a little more complete version of Swahili 101 - but is actually only about just three words in Swahili … but three that are absolutely indispensable to know!
First things first, though: The DISCLAIMER … I hereby accept no responsibility whatsoever for any inaccuracies found in this text. This, because I have not just ONE, but TWO Swahili speakers who have checked my opinions and have edited my obvious errors. Having said this, let me blaze away and make a complete Swahili fool of myself, using, as I have, my sub-editors’ remarks as entirely discretionary input …
Of course, I do also have a marginal excuse in noting that Swahili is actually a very ‘hybrid’ language and is infused with Arabic, Portuguese, Persian, a little German, and quite a bit of English. Swahili is a lot less ‘pure’ than the Bantu languages of Zulu and Xhosa found in Mzansi, in the sense that there was little to infuse the Bantu with down there. Of course, the Zulu found on the streets of Jozi is an entirely different matter (which is why I referred to the tsotsi-literacy of some of you!).
Blundering Introduction to the First Edition:
Swahili is one of the most widely spoken of all African languages (probably followed by Zulu and its variants) and is probably accessible to near 100 million people in the East Africa region alone. However, it is the mother tongue to less than 20 million people. It is the regional lingua franca with roots that can be traced back to the first millennium AD! It is found in use throughout East Africa (Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi) but is also spoken to the north - in parts of Somalia and Ethiopia - and as far south as northern Mozambique and Zambia.
The true Swahili people – mSwahilini – are people from “Coast” (province) - as opposed to the coast. The word ‘Swahili’ itself actually derives from the Arabic word for ‘coast’ and the language was originally the main means of communication between the coastal peoples – since the 700's - starting with a few boats landing at Zanzibar.
Today still, the most pure Swahili is considered to be found among the Zanzibaris, thereafter within greater Tanzania, followed quite a way later by the Swahili found in Kenya - with Nairobi Swahili considered to be ‘Sheng’ (Swahili slang) rather than true kiSwahili. I guess Nairobi Swahili is somewhat akin to Jozi isiZulu (hardly the stuff of high literary lexicons and dictionary discourse)! If truth be told (popular Nairobi expression), a journalist can run into trouble with his Tanzanian editor for an over-reliance on Nairobi Swahili!
Interestingly, the Swahili alphabet – formalized in the 1930’s – includes all the letters of the English alphabet except for ‘Q’ and ‘X’ – funnily enough, exactly those letters that are found so commonly in the Xhosa alphabet! Excuse the cultural stereotype, but it seems that the fabled Xhosa penchant for petty pilfering might have played a part here: seeing that mSwahilini were not using the ‘Q’ and the ‘X’ the Xhosa people thought they might look after the letters and place them in safekeeping for the Swahili!
The First ‘S’:
The word “sasa” (transliteration: saa-saa), in true Swahili, means ‘now’, as in “kuja hapa sasa!”, or “come here now!”. But in Nairobi sheng it denotes so much more. The first alternate (short) meaning is closest, I suppose, to the South African use of "Howzit?” and it might well be used when answering a phone call …
The phone rings. You ‘pick it’ (Kenyan for ‘answer it’) and say:
“Sasa?”
The response you are most likely to get is:
“Poa sana ” (transliteration: a ‘breathy’, ‘percussive’ poh-ah saa-na meaning "very good")
And the self-same question follows, again:
“Sasa?”
To which you'll get a:
"Poa-poa sana" if your buddy is really feeling good today.
Another, slightly more correct use of "sasa" is to say "now ... " but in a more 'open' sense.
It's used like:
"Now ... as I was saying"
As a means of re-opening a subject - perhaps a sensitive one - it is spoken softly and has a gentleness and un-intrusive subtlety that is very charming.
The Second “S”:
“Sema” (sair-mah) in proper Swahili means to 'speak' or to 'say something', yet it is used in a very similar way to “Sasa?” It is a more informal greeting than “Mambo?” and it means “What do you have to say?”, or “What’s up?”
Again, as with “Sasa?”, it essentially boils down to “How are you?” and again, the usual “Poa sana ” - or maybe a more moderate "nzuri sana" - is likely to follow.
“Sema?” has to be distinguished from “(Una) Sema nini?” meaning “You say what?”, which is a more direct question relating to what was just said, or to someone’s opinion of something.
My best was when I asked one of my researchers “Sema nini?”, to which she replied:
“Hakuna story” (“There is no story”).
These days I borrow her phrase when it's appropriate - and it seldom fails to raise a laugh.
By way of a small aside, you have to be careful when using variations of the "Hakuna" story ...
Hakuna matata ("no wurries")
Hakuna matatu ("there is no taxi")
Hakuna matako ("there is no ass")
Hakuna Mutoko ("Kiss FM's Caroline Mutoko is not on air")
Just a little laugh. But now for the ‘clincher’ of the ‘esses’:
The Third “S”:
The third “S” – “Sawa” (saa-waa) - is probably the most commonly used word in the Swahili language. Quite simply, it means “Ok”.
Any conversation will be infused with numerous uses of “sawa” along the way and if an arrangement has been made, the conversation will end with “sawa?” (“Ok?”), followed by the affirmative “sawa-sawa!” (“Ok-Ok!”).
In fact, it often closes a conversation or initiates departure, whether or not there has been any intervening arrangement. It is often just a warm, informal affirmation between friends and also suffices for the more formal “Kwa heri” (“good-bye”), which is seldom used.
The term, and its affirmative reply, are accompanied by many smiles and nods!
As a last rejoinder, I have to mention a rather risqué Bongo-Flava tune that made Tanzainia's Professor Jay famous in East Africa. Sung in Swahili obviously, it does the rounds in the clubs but is heard less often on radio, for reasons you’ll get …
It has a chorus consisting of two very short lines:
“HAPO vipi?” (“How is it THERE?”)
“HAPO sawa!” (“THERE is COOL/OK!”)
The sound of everyone singing it booms above the sound system (with “Sawa” being drawn out and sung as “Saaaaaawaaaaaaaaa!”).
The meaning is clear when the last line is accompanied by vigorous butt-wiggling and coy giggling on the part of the gals. Need I say more?
I have said it before and I shall go forth effusively again: The WAY the language is spoken, its syblent sounds, and the people that speak it, are all beautiful. Sheng commands my respect as a language that is highly dynamic, widely-used and highly descriptive and I’ll end this piece talking about a truly magnificent use of sheng on the streets:
The term “Mambo mbaye” is used in two completely opposite senses, depending entirely on the WAY it is said. Literally, the term means “Bad news”, but when applied to subjects like the quality of music, aesthetics (human or otherwise), or perhaps to the quality of THC, it takes on the same meaning as the term “wicked!” did in the UK some years back.
It takes this meaning only when the emphasis is placed on the second word, “mbaye” (“bad”), to which the affirmative reply might be “mbaye sana”, again with the emphasis on the second word.
What you're saying here is actually, "this is really good shit!"
When the emphasis is placed equally on the two words, it is to be understood more literally, as in “BAD NEWS”. Again, the reply could be “mbaye sana” but both the words will be spoken in a ‘level’ way, agreeing fully (kabisa) with the observation’s originator. A third, even greater agreement will, in fact, be had by the third-and-final inclusion of the agreement, “Kabisa!” ("Fully!"), in the comments.
And here, of course, the reference might be to a female predator trawling for customers at a downtown club. And, in this case, there will REALLY be NO joke contained in the reference at all!
More on this subject later …
Amani na mapenzi.
B-)
Hey guys, I didn’t realize how tsotsi-literate you all are! The only negative response I got was from The Imp, here in Nairobi , who said my blog should carry a disclaimer to the effect that I either accept NO responsibility for my butchering of the Swahili language, or that I accept FULL responsibility for same. Too late now I guess but hey, I’m trying my best.
But what I have realized is that I wrote the Swahili primer at the very end of a writing day and there was a whole lot I left out – some of the most important stuff actually. So here is a little more complete version of Swahili 101 - but is actually only about just three words in Swahili … but three that are absolutely indispensable to know!
First things first, though: The DISCLAIMER … I hereby accept no responsibility whatsoever for any inaccuracies found in this text. This, because I have not just ONE, but TWO Swahili speakers who have checked my opinions and have edited my obvious errors. Having said this, let me blaze away and make a complete Swahili fool of myself, using, as I have, my sub-editors’ remarks as entirely discretionary input …
Of course, I do also have a marginal excuse in noting that Swahili is actually a very ‘hybrid’ language and is infused with Arabic, Portuguese, Persian, a little German, and quite a bit of English. Swahili is a lot less ‘pure’ than the Bantu languages of Zulu and Xhosa found in Mzansi, in the sense that there was little to infuse the Bantu with down there. Of course, the Zulu found on the streets of Jozi is an entirely different matter (which is why I referred to the tsotsi-literacy of some of you!).
Blundering Introduction to the First Edition:
Swahili is one of the most widely spoken of all African languages (probably followed by Zulu and its variants) and is probably accessible to near 100 million people in the East Africa region alone. However, it is the mother tongue to less than 20 million people. It is the regional lingua franca with roots that can be traced back to the first millennium AD! It is found in use throughout East Africa (Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi) but is also spoken to the north - in parts of Somalia and Ethiopia - and as far south as northern Mozambique and Zambia.
The true Swahili people – mSwahilini – are people from “Coast” (province) - as opposed to the coast. The word ‘Swahili’ itself actually derives from the Arabic word for ‘coast’ and the language was originally the main means of communication between the coastal peoples – since the 700's - starting with a few boats landing at Zanzibar.
Today still, the most pure Swahili is considered to be found among the Zanzibaris, thereafter within greater Tanzania, followed quite a way later by the Swahili found in Kenya - with Nairobi Swahili considered to be ‘Sheng’ (Swahili slang) rather than true kiSwahili. I guess Nairobi Swahili is somewhat akin to Jozi isiZulu (hardly the stuff of high literary lexicons and dictionary discourse)! If truth be told (popular Nairobi expression), a journalist can run into trouble with his Tanzanian editor for an over-reliance on Nairobi Swahili!
Interestingly, the Swahili alphabet – formalized in the 1930’s – includes all the letters of the English alphabet except for ‘Q’ and ‘X’ – funnily enough, exactly those letters that are found so commonly in the Xhosa alphabet! Excuse the cultural stereotype, but it seems that the fabled Xhosa penchant for petty pilfering might have played a part here: seeing that mSwahilini were not using the ‘Q’ and the ‘X’ the Xhosa people thought they might look after the letters and place them in safekeeping for the Swahili!
The First ‘S’:
The word “sasa” (transliteration: saa-saa), in true Swahili, means ‘now’, as in “kuja hapa sasa!”, or “come here now!”. But in Nairobi sheng it denotes so much more. The first alternate (short) meaning is closest, I suppose, to the South African use of "Howzit?” and it might well be used when answering a phone call …
The phone rings. You ‘pick it’ (Kenyan for ‘answer it’) and say:
“Sasa?”
The response you are most likely to get is:
“Poa sana ” (transliteration: a ‘breathy’, ‘percussive’ poh-ah saa-na meaning "very good")
And the self-same question follows, again:
“Sasa?”
To which you'll get a:
"Poa-poa sana" if your buddy is really feeling good today.
Another, slightly more correct use of "sasa" is to say "now ... " but in a more 'open' sense.
It's used like:
"Now ... as I was saying"
As a means of re-opening a subject - perhaps a sensitive one - it is spoken softly and has a gentleness and un-intrusive subtlety that is very charming.
The Second “S”:
“Sema” (sair-mah) in proper Swahili means to 'speak' or to 'say something', yet it is used in a very similar way to “Sasa?” It is a more informal greeting than “Mambo?” and it means “What do you have to say?”, or “What’s up?”
Again, as with “Sasa?”, it essentially boils down to “How are you?” and again, the usual “Poa sana ” - or maybe a more moderate "nzuri sana" - is likely to follow.
“Sema?” has to be distinguished from “(Una) Sema nini?” meaning “You say what?”, which is a more direct question relating to what was just said, or to someone’s opinion of something.
My best was when I asked one of my researchers “Sema nini?”, to which she replied:
“Hakuna story” (“There is no story”).
These days I borrow her phrase when it's appropriate - and it seldom fails to raise a laugh.
By way of a small aside, you have to be careful when using variations of the "Hakuna" story ...
Hakuna matata ("no wurries")
Hakuna matatu ("there is no taxi")
Hakuna matako ("there is no ass")
Hakuna Mutoko ("Kiss FM's Caroline Mutoko is not on air")
Just a little laugh. But now for the ‘clincher’ of the ‘esses’:
The Third “S”:
The third “S” – “Sawa” (saa-waa) - is probably the most commonly used word in the Swahili language. Quite simply, it means “Ok”.
Any conversation will be infused with numerous uses of “sawa” along the way and if an arrangement has been made, the conversation will end with “sawa?” (“Ok?”), followed by the affirmative “sawa-sawa!” (“Ok-Ok!”).
In fact, it often closes a conversation or initiates departure, whether or not there has been any intervening arrangement. It is often just a warm, informal affirmation between friends and also suffices for the more formal “Kwa heri” (“good-bye”), which is seldom used.
The term, and its affirmative reply, are accompanied by many smiles and nods!
As a last rejoinder, I have to mention a rather risqué Bongo-Flava tune that made Tanzainia's Professor Jay famous in East Africa. Sung in Swahili obviously, it does the rounds in the clubs but is heard less often on radio, for reasons you’ll get …
It has a chorus consisting of two very short lines:
“HAPO vipi?” (“How is it THERE?”)
“HAPO sawa!” (“THERE is COOL/OK!”)
The sound of everyone singing it booms above the sound system (with “Sawa” being drawn out and sung as “Saaaaaawaaaaaaaaa!”).
The meaning is clear when the last line is accompanied by vigorous butt-wiggling and coy giggling on the part of the gals. Need I say more?
I have said it before and I shall go forth effusively again: The WAY the language is spoken, its syblent sounds, and the people that speak it, are all beautiful. Sheng commands my respect as a language that is highly dynamic, widely-used and highly descriptive and I’ll end this piece talking about a truly magnificent use of sheng on the streets:
The term “Mambo mbaye” is used in two completely opposite senses, depending entirely on the WAY it is said. Literally, the term means “Bad news”, but when applied to subjects like the quality of music, aesthetics (human or otherwise), or perhaps to the quality of THC, it takes on the same meaning as the term “wicked!” did in the UK some years back.
It takes this meaning only when the emphasis is placed on the second word, “mbaye” (“bad”), to which the affirmative reply might be “mbaye sana”, again with the emphasis on the second word.
What you're saying here is actually, "this is really good shit!"
When the emphasis is placed equally on the two words, it is to be understood more literally, as in “BAD NEWS”. Again, the reply could be “mbaye sana” but both the words will be spoken in a ‘level’ way, agreeing fully (kabisa) with the observation’s originator. A third, even greater agreement will, in fact, be had by the third-and-final inclusion of the agreement, “Kabisa!” ("Fully!"), in the comments.
And here, of course, the reference might be to a female predator trawling for customers at a downtown club. And, in this case, there will REALLY be NO joke contained in the reference at all!
More on this subject later …
Amani na mapenzi.
B-)
Pied Crows, Politics and People on the Fringe
Thursday, 9th April 2009
I think they are called Pied Crows. There are two of them. And they have started a mission to steal the dog’s meat and biscuits every morning. They are the size of those dumb Ibis that fly low over rooftops (barely making it!) in Johannesburg. But that’s where the similarity ends. These two crows are seriously clever and quick. And defiant. They squawk a lot in the morning and at night. And like many of the birds hereabouts, they are seriously carnivorous, much to the dog’s dislike.
‘The dog’ – a Shepherd-cross, spotted on the street by Brenda - goes by the name of Moshoeshoe (he of the Mountain Kingdom) – and barks like crazy as they steal her food. The crows just couldn’t give a damn and squawk at Mosh in the same tone as she delivers. She runs outside after them. They just hop away, back turned, and squawk from a distance!
Heckle and Jeckle got a fantastic feast the other night when I tossed the remnants of a black mamba onto the roof, after finding it asleep at night on the hitherto warm rock that forms part of the wall at my bedroom door. The mamba was still a baby (where’s mom, I wonder?!) and was almost stuck to the rock a sheer twelve inches off the floor. How did it get there, I thought sweetly, but then felt almost instinctively compelled to chop in two with the garden shears!
Black mambas are reputed (among others) to be quite capable of biting during the throes of death. I watched, with nervous flutters as a disembodied head bit frantically for about ten minutes after I had chopped this beauty of nature in half (in three, eventually)!
Mosh had been lying directly below the little curled specimen and I worried that she had been bitten – particularly when she showed definite signs of poisoning the next day. Her reaction would have been a bit late, considering, but it turns out I had OD’s her a bit on Frontline flea fluid! She was simply bilious for two days. She recovered admirably on day three, taking my shoes, and dragging all my scattered clothes into the garden, and looking on proudly.
The two Black Kites I mentioned before (Kevin and Bevin?) are still flying low over the roof these days and they are both amazing to watch when they settle into the huge, sparse acacia tree on the next-door property (viewed from the front veranda). We’re talking settling down with a 2 meter wingspan here… There’s a smaller kite that resides near the office that I sometimes watch from the office balcony. This one is continually doing small dives – probably for rats and mice – between the pines in the property next door. From the balcony we watch each other eye-to-eye!
Carnivores everywhere.
Good Friday, April 10, 2009
Later today, in the gardens of Nairobi’s favourite restaurant – The Carnivore – Jamaican reggae artist Morgan Heritage will be performing. I might go see the show. The throng of Nairobi’s huge reggae-fan-base will be there – and given the typical exuberant nature of Kenyans during any holiday - we can expect “fire” at the gig (as the Jamaicans would put it). I’ll unfortunately probably be one of very few mzungu faces at the gardens. Reggae isn’t exactly a ‘mixed’ thing in the present culture of Nairobi. The R170 entrance price might herald a few mzungus though.
Hopefully Morgan can spread a bit of peace and love because this society might just be on the brink of trouble (again) right now…
There has been a spate of resignations from government with recriminations and counter-recriminations that are threatening to split the already-fragile coalition government down the middle. Today’s papers are using Easter symbology (some corny, like the ‘Cross’ roads) to implore the members of all parties to chill out and be careful of what they might foster through their discord.
But, if truth be told, in Nairobi I don’t feel any of the tensions that supposedly exist in this country … There’s just a lot of lurve, and people getting on with things as they normally do. To what extent the politicians’ statements and actions are just political maneuvering and vying for a better place in the order of things to follow, I don’t know. A bit premature maybe.
But change is a coming methinks. Slowly AND surely.
I suppose I will have to go to Kisumu (soon) and see the burnt-out shells of buildings to get some sense of what happened here just over a year ago. There’s a book that’s been published, called Kenya Burning, that has some brilliant press photographs of last year’s post-election violence … some of the contents are pretty hectic, but there’s little we didn’t see in South Africa over the years – across all sides of the multifaceted political divides there. But one thing we did not see was the use of arrows in the struggle. There’s one picture in the book of a man sitting, waiting for medical attention, with an arrow-head immersed deep into his cheekbone. Alongside his photo is a lateral x-ray of his head, showing three inches of what-looks-like bone stuck in his cheek! He survived.
Political resignations have been going on while local students have been demonstrating quite frequently over the past week or two – often over the smallest pretext - clearly displaying their utter frustration at the State at play. A few have been shot (one or two lethally, but it’s not allowed to be real news here). And, again, there are definite rumblings afoot among the youth but, so far, no student ‘leader’ to speak of … Stephen Bantu Biko, uko wapi baba?
I DO get the slightest sense of a government starting – just starting – to lose its iron grip on the public. The people are pissed Mr. President. The cracks are starting to appear…
The GNU (Government of 'National Unity’) is starting to fall apart and all Kofi Annan has so far managed to do is look on, smiling affably, saying everything is doing fine (Kenyans don’t like criticism from outside but it’s expected to come from within. Mostly, much ado about nothing, but this is the stated reason for Kofi’s tepid tone).
There are clear dividing lines being formed for what I fear may become an extended – and very factional - battle for the future leadership of this country. Anti-Kikuyu, and anti-Kibaki, sentiment runs high. But there is factional leadership everywhere. And even many Kikuyus concede that last year’s election was ‘stolen’ from Raila Odinga’s Luo-led ‘Orange Democratic Movement’. Hence, it looks to me like Raila is making moves to re-assert his legitimate place in the government (the position of President, no less).
(I am not going to repeat earlier stuff I said about the ‘stealing’ of the election, the violence that followed, and the lack of political will, and ability, to deal with the aftermath. It’s there in previous blogs and is largely accurate.)
These are all parts of a web that looks like it’s being slowly unspun. The extent to which the ‘Hidden Hand’ I see at work here will be able to control the affairs of the immediate future will indicate the extent to which we might see the current government continue to rule with impunity, with its book of Stock Phrases and Empty Promises. Watch this space for details. I want to write more about the ‘Hidden Hand’ but need some observation and reflection on this subject still.
Enough Politics! Commercial Break:
There are something like 62 radio stations that ply the radio-waves in Nairobi! The Communications Commission of Kenya has trouble allocating frequencies because there are so few frequencies left. All the way from 88 to 106 or so, there’s a station every .3 to .5 Mhz (or whatever it is they measure FM in). Scattered among the East African stations (lots of talk in Swahili, Luo, Kamba, etc. with old-school East African music played) are rock stations, a reggae station, ‘classic’ and 'light' rock stations, R&B stations and various top-twenty ‘black/urban’ music stations. So far I haven’t heard a rap or hip-hop station, those genres being still a little 'rad' for Kenya.
But one thing is for sure; whoever does the (anonymous) late night mix on Capitol is someone to listen for in future. He/she must be sourcing the latest remixes off the Net because it’s one helluva show. If you’re reading this in Nairobi, listen to Capitol after 10pm! You won’t regret it if you like your music a bit on the wild side.
Listening to Nairobi radio stations, unless you have a digital tuner it becomes very difficult to find the station you were listening to yesterday. I skip through stations a lot and there’s some very good radio to be heard. But to find it again is another issue ... I’m surprised at the lack of advertising and I wonder how many of the stations survive. Capitol Radio has quite a bit of advertising (Safaricom, Zain and Coke) while Kiss FM is similarly popular with the agencies. But few of the other stations carry much by way of commercial interference. Even Metro – the very popular local reggae station - carries almost nothing in advertising. I thought it was called ‘commercial radio’ for a reason.
While we are talking advertising, I have to remark on the size of one consumer brand in Kenya. Not being much of a user of their product range, I didn’t realize it at first, but Nivea is absolutely massive in this country. The tendency for black skin to dry out if not regularly moisturized with mafuta (oil of some kind) is what makes this brand so big. Nivea has stand-alone kiosks within many of the supermarkets and Nivea products often enjoy the luxury of two or three facings on the supermarket shelves on their own.
I have previously mentioned the popularity of various ‘sodas’ in Kenya – not least Alvaro and Novida – but I am still surprised to see how many people choose to drink a warm soda from the shelf over a cold one from the check-out fridge! A warm Coke simply doesn’t have much appeal to me! But the one ‘beverage’ that takes them all on is pure bottled water. There are about 30 different brands you can get in Nairobi, hailing from all over the country, and they are mostly very good. My favourite is the extra-oxygenated Aquamist brand. The oxygen bubbles are quite groovy. One of the biggest sellers is the brand of water marketed by the Coca-Cola Company. It is not ‘spring’ water but is labeled ‘purified and balanced’. It is a few Shillings cheaper than other brands and sells very well.
Previously, I have noted the size and penetration of Hindu culture, and people, in Kenya. I was surprised recently to see the results of a staff survey carried out among over three thousand employees of a large Kenyan parastatal. They were asked who the worst employers in Kenya were. First they responded “government” generally, then the “police”, then “Asians”!
A recent friend of mine, a journalist formerly with Deutsche Welle, and an impish Kamba by the name of Peter, says that Kenyan motor dealers always try sell small Suzuki mini-vans to Asians because there is no front-end protection for them … Cruel, yes, but looking around me, I’m beginning to see what his acerbic wit was aiming at.
You seldom see an Asian Kenyan over thirty sitting with anyone other than another Asian. Unusually, I did see a VERY mixed group of young turks the other night at the Nakumatt Ukay, their shiny faces perhaps indicating they had been out ‘chewing’ together. (Maybe it was just moisturizer I was seeing, because their heavy perfume discounted the likelihood that they were serious khat converts.)
But seeing these guys, I wonder if maybe the next generation of Asian Kenyans will be a little different. Their fathers, probably my age and more, follow a 'typical' pattern and walk around (often Sikhs wearing turbans) with a very aloof and possibly superior sense about them. And many of them are obviously very rich. There is an obviously lack of integration - over successive generations spent here - that probably stems from the strength of Hindu culture. This is not a bad thing in itself but there seems to be a certain disdain for black Kenyans that does them no good here.
They live ‘apart’ and are seen ‘apart’. Their condescension toward the local population is subject to ridicule. In their use of Swahili we can see the image of baas-skap.
Asian Kenyans seem to prefer driving Mercedes, as opposed to the UN and NGO preference for big-ass four-wheel-drive vehicles. In Nairobi, I guess the Hindi cruising ground is the inner-city, and the Westlands/Parklands area. They are probably a lot more likely to fly to Kisumu than drive there … I believe the Kisumu Yacht Club is comprised almost exclusively of Asian Kenyans (not many of whom sail, I hear). And I believe many Hindu-owned shops were the target of aggression and looting last year – especially in the West, in Eldoret and Kisumu, and generally across the Luo land near the Lake.
They came here to build a railway. They stayed and built empires …
Yesterday, while editing the minutes of a management meeting, and sipping a wildly expensive cappuccino at the Art Café, I heard a young Asian lass speaking on her mobile to a friend, telling the friend that Cherie (or some such), was going to Paris for the Easter weekend! I’ll say!
But I guess mzungu culture in Nairobi is also quite weird. I went and jammed with a local rock group at their rehearsal the other night. A weird bunch of pretty straight old dudes (like me) playing some quite heavy acid-inspired rock. They play occasionally at a local restaurant (owned by one of four guitarists in the band!) and still have quite a small repertoire of songs – but chosen with taste. Comprised of American, Dutch and Belgian musicians (with a Congolese bass player), their musicianship is quite good.
The American blues-harp player is very good, even though he works in some very senior contract-position with the UN (you should just see the rented house…!). I think that during the jam I gave their resident drummer a bit of a fright (and I didn’t like it at all) but he was somehow a lot less friendly when I finished playing than before I started. But anyway, we jammed some great songs by the likes of Pink Floyd (Breathe), Led Zeppelin, and James Brown (I Feel Good and Sex Machine) and one or two numbers by Spruce Springclean. I’d enjoy playing with them again if there was ever another chance. They are well-equipped and the Belgian guitarist, playing a vintage Fender Telecaster, absolutely ROCKS.
While I was waiting for my turn at the traps I sat on the lounge settee and paged through a coffee-table book on “Kenya: 1927 to 1940”. The book features the most startling array of old photos from Kenya. I am told they were personally collected from the remaining mzungu families, plus archive material, and were painstakingly dated and compiled. The book is beautifully printed (locally) and the pictures have a warm sepia glow that seems to radiate from the page.
What a place this was. It still is, but some fifty plus years ago, Kenya was something else entirely!
There are photos of Kikuyu warriors that, I would venture, would have struck fear into the heart of most Pondo or Zulu warriors of the time. These guys were seriously scary and are often pictured with long headdresses, or dreadlocks, that look like they are heavily coated in ochre (these parts of the pictures seem to glow a little more). With long spears, and standing in formation (even when some Colonist is standing on his farm, trying to act real casual), they are a sight to behold! A picture of majestic clear-and-present danger that left me in awe.
Colonial Kenya: The mzungu bwana kneeling alongside the three lions he just killed. Arrays of two to three hundred tusks lined up outside the Asian General Dealer. The girls on the grass, playing croquet in their pre-war pinafores … that kind of thing … And the WILDEST shots of Africa you’ll ever get to see. But the Kikuyu warriors – in quite a few shots - have left an indelible impression. There’s a shot of a standoff between Maasai and Kikuyu (I think) that depicts 800 to 1000 men on each side, separated by dust ... and posturing. And it wasn’t long ago! I’ll see if I can get a scan of one or two of these pics for later insertion.
And during the week I heard an interview with the head of the new Kenya National Youth Alliance (read KeNYA, aka the ‘new’ Mungiki). It was frightening to listen to and I even got to work late after hearing denial after denial - and the occasional veiled threat - in his utterances to two female Capitol interviewers (who tried valiantly, I must say). There’s something like a Kikuyu Warrior/ Mau-Mau/ Mungiki thing going on here right now. And I’m not sure what it is exactly…
Yet the more I drive around Nairobi, the more aware I am of the fantastic heritage of beautiful houses the Brits left when they split the scene during what is commonly known as the time of Uhuru – the Mau-Mau time – in the late 50’s/early 60’s. Some of the really old houses in Nairobi are often nothing short of spectacular, with the best among them exclusively sporting majestic stone work. A tour of Colonial houses would probably do well among overnight visitors to Nairobi (on their way to a low-flight balloon trip across the Maasai Mara). Many of these houses were the original farm houses - and others have meantime been built between them in their necessary subdivision. Even the latter architecture – 60’s and 70’s - is often quite elegant but more prone to Mediterranean styles than Colonial. Evidence of very serious money is never far away in the suburbs of Nairobi.
There is a charity drive being planned in the marketing industry here to climb Mount Kenya (at roughly 14 000 ft, 2000 ft less than Kili) over an upcoming weekend. I am tempted - perhaps as the start of turning over a new leaf in the health department - to enroll myself and raise funds for Kenyans in need. The e-mail came complete with training instructions and lists of gear one needs to buy - or preferably hire at base camp!
(This means another visa stamp for Tanzania due to the fact that Queen Elizabeth ‘gave’ Mt.Kili – from Kenya to Tanzania – because a nephew or someone had interests in Tanzania!)
I’m tempted to train, and climb, not least of all because of another picture I saw in that book. It was absolutely amazing … the mzungus skating on the icy surface of a frozen lake, somewhere near the summit of Mt.Kenya.
I wonder of there’s still enough water, and little enough temperature, for there to be such an experience today? I was an avid skater in my misspent youth - and still want to go down Mombasa Road, to the Panari Hotel, and skate at the Sky Rink on its roof. So, to somehow skate – or even feign skating – at the top of a mountain in deepest, darkest Africa, would be fun.
But as long as I’m in Kenya, I wouldn’t want to take any chances by skating on thin ice.
As always, with laughter, peace and love.
B-)
I think they are called Pied Crows. There are two of them. And they have started a mission to steal the dog’s meat and biscuits every morning. They are the size of those dumb Ibis that fly low over rooftops (barely making it!) in Johannesburg. But that’s where the similarity ends. These two crows are seriously clever and quick. And defiant. They squawk a lot in the morning and at night. And like many of the birds hereabouts, they are seriously carnivorous, much to the dog’s dislike.
‘The dog’ – a Shepherd-cross, spotted on the street by Brenda - goes by the name of Moshoeshoe (he of the Mountain Kingdom) – and barks like crazy as they steal her food. The crows just couldn’t give a damn and squawk at Mosh in the same tone as she delivers. She runs outside after them. They just hop away, back turned, and squawk from a distance!
Heckle and Jeckle got a fantastic feast the other night when I tossed the remnants of a black mamba onto the roof, after finding it asleep at night on the hitherto warm rock that forms part of the wall at my bedroom door. The mamba was still a baby (where’s mom, I wonder?!) and was almost stuck to the rock a sheer twelve inches off the floor. How did it get there, I thought sweetly, but then felt almost instinctively compelled to chop in two with the garden shears!
Black mambas are reputed (among others) to be quite capable of biting during the throes of death. I watched, with nervous flutters as a disembodied head bit frantically for about ten minutes after I had chopped this beauty of nature in half (in three, eventually)!
Mosh had been lying directly below the little curled specimen and I worried that she had been bitten – particularly when she showed definite signs of poisoning the next day. Her reaction would have been a bit late, considering, but it turns out I had OD’s her a bit on Frontline flea fluid! She was simply bilious for two days. She recovered admirably on day three, taking my shoes, and dragging all my scattered clothes into the garden, and looking on proudly.
The two Black Kites I mentioned before (Kevin and Bevin?) are still flying low over the roof these days and they are both amazing to watch when they settle into the huge, sparse acacia tree on the next-door property (viewed from the front veranda). We’re talking settling down with a 2 meter wingspan here… There’s a smaller kite that resides near the office that I sometimes watch from the office balcony. This one is continually doing small dives – probably for rats and mice – between the pines in the property next door. From the balcony we watch each other eye-to-eye!
Carnivores everywhere.
Good Friday, April 10, 2009
Later today, in the gardens of Nairobi’s favourite restaurant – The Carnivore – Jamaican reggae artist Morgan Heritage will be performing. I might go see the show. The throng of Nairobi’s huge reggae-fan-base will be there – and given the typical exuberant nature of Kenyans during any holiday - we can expect “fire” at the gig (as the Jamaicans would put it). I’ll unfortunately probably be one of very few mzungu faces at the gardens. Reggae isn’t exactly a ‘mixed’ thing in the present culture of Nairobi. The R170 entrance price might herald a few mzungus though.
Hopefully Morgan can spread a bit of peace and love because this society might just be on the brink of trouble (again) right now…
There has been a spate of resignations from government with recriminations and counter-recriminations that are threatening to split the already-fragile coalition government down the middle. Today’s papers are using Easter symbology (some corny, like the ‘Cross’ roads) to implore the members of all parties to chill out and be careful of what they might foster through their discord.
But, if truth be told, in Nairobi I don’t feel any of the tensions that supposedly exist in this country … There’s just a lot of lurve, and people getting on with things as they normally do. To what extent the politicians’ statements and actions are just political maneuvering and vying for a better place in the order of things to follow, I don’t know. A bit premature maybe.
But change is a coming methinks. Slowly AND surely.
I suppose I will have to go to Kisumu (soon) and see the burnt-out shells of buildings to get some sense of what happened here just over a year ago. There’s a book that’s been published, called Kenya Burning, that has some brilliant press photographs of last year’s post-election violence … some of the contents are pretty hectic, but there’s little we didn’t see in South Africa over the years – across all sides of the multifaceted political divides there. But one thing we did not see was the use of arrows in the struggle. There’s one picture in the book of a man sitting, waiting for medical attention, with an arrow-head immersed deep into his cheekbone. Alongside his photo is a lateral x-ray of his head, showing three inches of what-looks-like bone stuck in his cheek! He survived.
Political resignations have been going on while local students have been demonstrating quite frequently over the past week or two – often over the smallest pretext - clearly displaying their utter frustration at the State at play. A few have been shot (one or two lethally, but it’s not allowed to be real news here). And, again, there are definite rumblings afoot among the youth but, so far, no student ‘leader’ to speak of … Stephen Bantu Biko, uko wapi baba?
I DO get the slightest sense of a government starting – just starting – to lose its iron grip on the public. The people are pissed Mr. President. The cracks are starting to appear…
The GNU (Government of 'National Unity’) is starting to fall apart and all Kofi Annan has so far managed to do is look on, smiling affably, saying everything is doing fine (Kenyans don’t like criticism from outside but it’s expected to come from within. Mostly, much ado about nothing, but this is the stated reason for Kofi’s tepid tone).
There are clear dividing lines being formed for what I fear may become an extended – and very factional - battle for the future leadership of this country. Anti-Kikuyu, and anti-Kibaki, sentiment runs high. But there is factional leadership everywhere. And even many Kikuyus concede that last year’s election was ‘stolen’ from Raila Odinga’s Luo-led ‘Orange Democratic Movement’. Hence, it looks to me like Raila is making moves to re-assert his legitimate place in the government (the position of President, no less).
(I am not going to repeat earlier stuff I said about the ‘stealing’ of the election, the violence that followed, and the lack of political will, and ability, to deal with the aftermath. It’s there in previous blogs and is largely accurate.)
These are all parts of a web that looks like it’s being slowly unspun. The extent to which the ‘Hidden Hand’ I see at work here will be able to control the affairs of the immediate future will indicate the extent to which we might see the current government continue to rule with impunity, with its book of Stock Phrases and Empty Promises. Watch this space for details. I want to write more about the ‘Hidden Hand’ but need some observation and reflection on this subject still.
Enough Politics! Commercial Break:
There are something like 62 radio stations that ply the radio-waves in Nairobi! The Communications Commission of Kenya has trouble allocating frequencies because there are so few frequencies left. All the way from 88 to 106 or so, there’s a station every .3 to .5 Mhz (or whatever it is they measure FM in). Scattered among the East African stations (lots of talk in Swahili, Luo, Kamba, etc. with old-school East African music played) are rock stations, a reggae station, ‘classic’ and 'light' rock stations, R&B stations and various top-twenty ‘black/urban’ music stations. So far I haven’t heard a rap or hip-hop station, those genres being still a little 'rad' for Kenya.
But one thing is for sure; whoever does the (anonymous) late night mix on Capitol is someone to listen for in future. He/she must be sourcing the latest remixes off the Net because it’s one helluva show. If you’re reading this in Nairobi, listen to Capitol after 10pm! You won’t regret it if you like your music a bit on the wild side.
Listening to Nairobi radio stations, unless you have a digital tuner it becomes very difficult to find the station you were listening to yesterday. I skip through stations a lot and there’s some very good radio to be heard. But to find it again is another issue ... I’m surprised at the lack of advertising and I wonder how many of the stations survive. Capitol Radio has quite a bit of advertising (Safaricom, Zain and Coke) while Kiss FM is similarly popular with the agencies. But few of the other stations carry much by way of commercial interference. Even Metro – the very popular local reggae station - carries almost nothing in advertising. I thought it was called ‘commercial radio’ for a reason.
While we are talking advertising, I have to remark on the size of one consumer brand in Kenya. Not being much of a user of their product range, I didn’t realize it at first, but Nivea is absolutely massive in this country. The tendency for black skin to dry out if not regularly moisturized with mafuta (oil of some kind) is what makes this brand so big. Nivea has stand-alone kiosks within many of the supermarkets and Nivea products often enjoy the luxury of two or three facings on the supermarket shelves on their own.
I have previously mentioned the popularity of various ‘sodas’ in Kenya – not least Alvaro and Novida – but I am still surprised to see how many people choose to drink a warm soda from the shelf over a cold one from the check-out fridge! A warm Coke simply doesn’t have much appeal to me! But the one ‘beverage’ that takes them all on is pure bottled water. There are about 30 different brands you can get in Nairobi, hailing from all over the country, and they are mostly very good. My favourite is the extra-oxygenated Aquamist brand. The oxygen bubbles are quite groovy. One of the biggest sellers is the brand of water marketed by the Coca-Cola Company. It is not ‘spring’ water but is labeled ‘purified and balanced’. It is a few Shillings cheaper than other brands and sells very well.
Previously, I have noted the size and penetration of Hindu culture, and people, in Kenya. I was surprised recently to see the results of a staff survey carried out among over three thousand employees of a large Kenyan parastatal. They were asked who the worst employers in Kenya were. First they responded “government” generally, then the “police”, then “Asians”!
A recent friend of mine, a journalist formerly with Deutsche Welle, and an impish Kamba by the name of Peter, says that Kenyan motor dealers always try sell small Suzuki mini-vans to Asians because there is no front-end protection for them … Cruel, yes, but looking around me, I’m beginning to see what his acerbic wit was aiming at.
You seldom see an Asian Kenyan over thirty sitting with anyone other than another Asian. Unusually, I did see a VERY mixed group of young turks the other night at the Nakumatt Ukay, their shiny faces perhaps indicating they had been out ‘chewing’ together. (Maybe it was just moisturizer I was seeing, because their heavy perfume discounted the likelihood that they were serious khat converts.)
But seeing these guys, I wonder if maybe the next generation of Asian Kenyans will be a little different. Their fathers, probably my age and more, follow a 'typical' pattern and walk around (often Sikhs wearing turbans) with a very aloof and possibly superior sense about them. And many of them are obviously very rich. There is an obviously lack of integration - over successive generations spent here - that probably stems from the strength of Hindu culture. This is not a bad thing in itself but there seems to be a certain disdain for black Kenyans that does them no good here.
They live ‘apart’ and are seen ‘apart’. Their condescension toward the local population is subject to ridicule. In their use of Swahili we can see the image of baas-skap.
Asian Kenyans seem to prefer driving Mercedes, as opposed to the UN and NGO preference for big-ass four-wheel-drive vehicles. In Nairobi, I guess the Hindi cruising ground is the inner-city, and the Westlands/Parklands area. They are probably a lot more likely to fly to Kisumu than drive there … I believe the Kisumu Yacht Club is comprised almost exclusively of Asian Kenyans (not many of whom sail, I hear). And I believe many Hindu-owned shops were the target of aggression and looting last year – especially in the West, in Eldoret and Kisumu, and generally across the Luo land near the Lake.
They came here to build a railway. They stayed and built empires …
Yesterday, while editing the minutes of a management meeting, and sipping a wildly expensive cappuccino at the Art Café, I heard a young Asian lass speaking on her mobile to a friend, telling the friend that Cherie (or some such), was going to Paris for the Easter weekend! I’ll say!
But I guess mzungu culture in Nairobi is also quite weird. I went and jammed with a local rock group at their rehearsal the other night. A weird bunch of pretty straight old dudes (like me) playing some quite heavy acid-inspired rock. They play occasionally at a local restaurant (owned by one of four guitarists in the band!) and still have quite a small repertoire of songs – but chosen with taste. Comprised of American, Dutch and Belgian musicians (with a Congolese bass player), their musicianship is quite good.
The American blues-harp player is very good, even though he works in some very senior contract-position with the UN (you should just see the rented house…!). I think that during the jam I gave their resident drummer a bit of a fright (and I didn’t like it at all) but he was somehow a lot less friendly when I finished playing than before I started. But anyway, we jammed some great songs by the likes of Pink Floyd (Breathe), Led Zeppelin, and James Brown (I Feel Good and Sex Machine) and one or two numbers by Spruce Springclean. I’d enjoy playing with them again if there was ever another chance. They are well-equipped and the Belgian guitarist, playing a vintage Fender Telecaster, absolutely ROCKS.
While I was waiting for my turn at the traps I sat on the lounge settee and paged through a coffee-table book on “Kenya: 1927 to 1940”. The book features the most startling array of old photos from Kenya. I am told they were personally collected from the remaining mzungu families, plus archive material, and were painstakingly dated and compiled. The book is beautifully printed (locally) and the pictures have a warm sepia glow that seems to radiate from the page.
What a place this was. It still is, but some fifty plus years ago, Kenya was something else entirely!
There are photos of Kikuyu warriors that, I would venture, would have struck fear into the heart of most Pondo or Zulu warriors of the time. These guys were seriously scary and are often pictured with long headdresses, or dreadlocks, that look like they are heavily coated in ochre (these parts of the pictures seem to glow a little more). With long spears, and standing in formation (even when some Colonist is standing on his farm, trying to act real casual), they are a sight to behold! A picture of majestic clear-and-present danger that left me in awe.
Colonial Kenya: The mzungu bwana kneeling alongside the three lions he just killed. Arrays of two to three hundred tusks lined up outside the Asian General Dealer. The girls on the grass, playing croquet in their pre-war pinafores … that kind of thing … And the WILDEST shots of Africa you’ll ever get to see. But the Kikuyu warriors – in quite a few shots - have left an indelible impression. There’s a shot of a standoff between Maasai and Kikuyu (I think) that depicts 800 to 1000 men on each side, separated by dust ... and posturing. And it wasn’t long ago! I’ll see if I can get a scan of one or two of these pics for later insertion.
And during the week I heard an interview with the head of the new Kenya National Youth Alliance (read KeNYA, aka the ‘new’ Mungiki). It was frightening to listen to and I even got to work late after hearing denial after denial - and the occasional veiled threat - in his utterances to two female Capitol interviewers (who tried valiantly, I must say). There’s something like a Kikuyu Warrior/ Mau-Mau/ Mungiki thing going on here right now. And I’m not sure what it is exactly…
Yet the more I drive around Nairobi, the more aware I am of the fantastic heritage of beautiful houses the Brits left when they split the scene during what is commonly known as the time of Uhuru – the Mau-Mau time – in the late 50’s/early 60’s. Some of the really old houses in Nairobi are often nothing short of spectacular, with the best among them exclusively sporting majestic stone work. A tour of Colonial houses would probably do well among overnight visitors to Nairobi (on their way to a low-flight balloon trip across the Maasai Mara). Many of these houses were the original farm houses - and others have meantime been built between them in their necessary subdivision. Even the latter architecture – 60’s and 70’s - is often quite elegant but more prone to Mediterranean styles than Colonial. Evidence of very serious money is never far away in the suburbs of Nairobi.
There is a charity drive being planned in the marketing industry here to climb Mount Kenya (at roughly 14 000 ft, 2000 ft less than Kili) over an upcoming weekend. I am tempted - perhaps as the start of turning over a new leaf in the health department - to enroll myself and raise funds for Kenyans in need. The e-mail came complete with training instructions and lists of gear one needs to buy - or preferably hire at base camp!
(This means another visa stamp for Tanzania due to the fact that Queen Elizabeth ‘gave’ Mt.Kili – from Kenya to Tanzania – because a nephew or someone had interests in Tanzania!)
I’m tempted to train, and climb, not least of all because of another picture I saw in that book. It was absolutely amazing … the mzungus skating on the icy surface of a frozen lake, somewhere near the summit of Mt.Kenya.
I wonder of there’s still enough water, and little enough temperature, for there to be such an experience today? I was an avid skater in my misspent youth - and still want to go down Mombasa Road, to the Panari Hotel, and skate at the Sky Rink on its roof. So, to somehow skate – or even feign skating – at the top of a mountain in deepest, darkest Africa, would be fun.
But as long as I’m in Kenya, I wouldn’t want to take any chances by skating on thin ice.
As always, with laughter, peace and love.
B-)
Friends ... Indeed
Wednesday, 28th January 2009
For the last two days I have been bothered by an e-mail I received from a close and loyal friend of mine, my ex-bass player, Nick. Nick has done a lot of work for ad agencies in Uganda and travels to this part of the world quite regularly. He accused me of being a little too glib in my criticism of Kenya, considering where South Africa had gone of late, and particularly seeing as I was a “newcomer to Kenya”. Kenya deserved more respect, he said.
I reacted harshly at first. Then I re-read some of my writing. The potential of being ‘read’ like this has bothered me from the start of my political diatribes. And I can see now that Nick was completely rational in seeing some of my later ranting (this year) as instructions to Kenya from a more ‘enlightened being’. Obviously, these pieces were never meant like that… Kenya, I am sorry for sounding in any way arrogant and bettter informed ... or whatever.
If truth be told, in my writing I have had to constantly downplay my adoration of this country and what I feel for its people (within such a short space of time!). This, for fear of being seen as some kinda weird sycophant. Kenya is an indescribably amazing country with blessedly beautiful people. I am secretly SO jealous of what Kenyans have got here (and you know, Kenyans, that I’m not alone in this ‘expat love’ of your country).
Your nation is very special. And this is before you close the gap between what is and what could be! Let me keep quiet about what could and should be. You can sort that out without the help of me. Kenyans, your spirit is so huge that somehow you triumph over your State-domination. How? I really can’t exclude my weird-freaky-ass-mystical take on it and say there’s just a multiplex “vibe” in Kenya. A vibe that, to me at least, can’t be denied. So much more than a “Hakuna Whatsitsface” attitude …
Closing advert: To become free, a lot of South Africans, of every description, put a lot of energy into hastening the end of Apartheid (in my case, through music and live performance). My children enjoy the fruits of a free (albeit violent) country today. That’s important to me. Kenya, if you are to become free, don’t leave it too long. The time really is NOW. Like it’s never been before. (And my view is vindicated by what I hear and read - increasingly - every day).
Kenyans, if there is no change, what legacy are you going to leave for your kids? You have to secure your basic freedoms now.
With a single stone, an ‘avalanche’ will start. Right here, right now.
Amani na Mapenzi
B-)
6.15am, Thursday 29th January 2009
I have been waking up very early of late. Never before have I survived on such little sleep. I’m making it through a pretty hectic day with about 5Hrs sleep on average. The UN Environmental Programme’s esteemed Jenny Clover (she of the TV set in her car) says it’s because I’m happy. I think she’s right. But at least some of the reason for my early waking this is the big sound of bird calls coming from the miniature forest that flourishes over the road from the apartment block. I can hear they are small birds, but the range of different calls is absolutely amazing and in the early morning light their music echoes across the small valley, in the absence of vehicle noise. The sound is really quite beautiful so early in the day.
At least some of the reason for my early rise is also the fact that I have to get to work at about 7.30 today to change the costing of a proposal we wrote yesterday, and send it to client before 9am…
I think there’s a spider in my bed somewhere. I have woken up with huge welts all over my body! I wake up to the sound of Kiss FM, having taken to sleeping with the radio on, playing ‘black’ R&B through the night. I like the music so much more than the white rock thing I’m used to from SA.
It’s now just past 6am and Thika Road is ALREADY jum-pucked according to Caroline Mutoko on Kiss FM. They have what they call ‘butterfly’ cameras on all the main routes and give the radio-listening Nairobi public regular traffic updates during the hilarious drive-time show. The Chinese have been widening and resurfacing Mombasa Road. Usually they stop work at 6am but today it seems they are working a bit later and causing a serious jum. Can you believe that already there are enough Nairobese on the roads – trying to avoid the later jum – to create a trufeek jum at a quarter past six on a Thursday!
Yesterday there was a serious fire at the Nakumatt Downtown. I saw the smoke from 10kms away while at the office. Many thousand Nairobese crowded the scene to watch the (much too late) attempts to extinguish the fire – the fire department, just around the corner, took over an hour to respond to the fire call, evidently. The TV footage showed the public having to be dispersed with tear gas as they crowded the scene and flooded all over the entrance to the Stanley (as in Livingstone) Hotel. (A hotel with prints of the most stunning woordcuts and paintings all over the walls).
Kenya's teachers are on strike. I just heard that the average teachers salary is Ksh7000 before tax. They clear Ksh5800 after tax. That’s less than R800 folks (and, as I have said before, Nairobi ain’t cheap!). No wonder they have gone on strike. A few have been arrested and are currently languishing in Nairobi jails. The rest are simply refusing to work. Government says there’s no more money in the fiscus for their needs. One of Kenya's MP’s is, meantime, effecting renovations to his house to the tune of a few million Shillings. And, believe it or not, most parents are fully in support of the strike. They say they would rather pay a bit more in school fees and know that their kids are getting a good education!
Yesterday Kiss took a microphone and tape recorder onto the streets and interviewed some kids, about the State President. The first kid interviewed said “President Kibaki is a bud mun…”, the next said “President Kibaki has to get everything for free…” I guess that gives you some idea of popular (even young) sentiment here!
Caroline has just bought the latest copy of True Love (that same magazine that is published in SA). She is raving on air about the magazine and tells us that there’s an article in the magazine about bachelors who can’t be read. I'm not quite sure what she means. The bachelors are illegible, according to Caroline. I wonder if they are also eligible to find a partner soon, while still eluding one’s ability to read them?
Sunday, 1st February 2009
It has been an event-filled few weeks since I last wrote.
The first bit of news is that I found a house to rent in the greenbelt suburb of Spring Valley (on Spring Hill, really). Less a house than some sort of mansion, the place has an enormous living area, four bedrooms inside and two cottages outside (yet to be ‘done-up’). Entering the place for the first time (following a tip-off from the Maasai 'askari' - security guard - at our offices), I knew I wanted to live here immediately. It is really beautiful. Expensive, yes, but I have found three house-mates who allow me to pay a fairly normal rental on the place. Unfortunately it doesn’t have a pool but the garden makes up for that on its own. And the pair of black kites that are seen continually circling the sky above our roof just add a little extra something. From the sounds of things there are monkeys living close by too.
Spring Valley is home to a lot of those big-ass four-wheel-drive vehicles I have talked about, with red UN, RC and CD (Corps Diplomatique) number plates. The other day, going to work, I also had the big black Mercedes (replete with Kenyan flag) of our neighbour, a Minister of Parliament (ministry unknown), driving behind me. And coming home the other night, I gave a lift to a late-for-duty policeman (replete with Uzzi sub-machine gun) to the road in which said minister lives. Spring Valley Road has security-controlled access, so I guess it is quite safe living here. I certainly feel safe because I have not yet closed the French doors that lead from the ‘master’ bedroom onto the garden. Anyway, as is the style of large Nairobi homes, we have employed our own security in the form of genuine Samburu Maasai ‘warrior’ (those from northern Kenya who look quite a lot like Somalis) who loves listening to reggae on Radio Metro.
And talking of Somalis, I had the honour the other night of meeting Mima – a member of the Somali royal family – and her husband Jon, a Norwegian who is so into, and knowledgable about, alternative technology it’s frightening. Clearly a genius in his own right, Jon has so much to offer Africa … And he’s about to participate in a sort-of Kyoto Protocol meeting being held here in Nairobi from Monday and featuring the environmental heads of 166 countries, or their emissaries (and his company is called Kyoto!). This meeting is being organized by Jaime’s (my fellow research director) girlfriend, Melissa. She promises to send me a summary of proceedings. I’ll try write more about the new global environment agenda as soon as I get the summary from Melli.
Monday, 23rd February 2009.
It’s been nearly a month since I have written. Work has kept me from it.
I am due to fly to Entebbbe, Uganda, this Sunday as part of a week-long Trade Mission to Kampala and Kigali, Rwanda. Through the East Africa Association, I have set up a number of meetings with people who might be interested in research in their part of the world. I will likely be most enthused when I return and promise to write furiously. Can’t wait.
Moving into this house has been an amazing experience. It has given me a sense of real belonging here and has made me feel that much more comfortable than before (if it’s possible for me to feel more comfortable). Sign of this, perhaps, is that I have got me a lovely ‘girlfriend’. I won’t breach her confidence here, but suffice it to say that Brenda is an amazing woman who I would never have imagined to meet in Kenya. Whatever her soon-to-start contract in Dubai might bring, we have had more fun in a short while than either of us has had in years. She is a part-time model and a rather gifted artist and stylist. She is also a born mimic who has me in stitches with her take on local politicians (and also a few friends of ours). She is really quite special and I suspect (Dubai aside) that we will be together for a while still.
Returning swiftly to my new resident status in Kenya (while still waiting for my permanent resident permit)…
I am increasingly asked, by intrigued Kenyans, about how long I have been here. I am now myself amazed by the fact that I have been here for a mere eleven weeks! I feel like it’s been years already! I feel like I somehow came home and that I am meant to be here. I have numerous local, Kenyan, friends – many of them through Brenda - yet I still get amazed on a daily basis at what I find here. I love this place. It just has SO much going for it.
What is REALLY amazing to me is the fact that I am understanding a great deal of Swahili in daily use. My researchers rattle something off to me and somehow I get the gist of it … They laugh.
Meantime, what other news of Kenya (habari ya Kenya)?
… so much is news that it’s hard to cover it. Brief notes follow:
Shopping in Eastleigh, among thousands of Somalis, Ethiopians and Sudanese. Nothing you can't get for quarter the price you'll pay in town. Every woman wearing a head scarf. Burkas, burkas everywhere, and not a face to see. Brenda warning me that if I take a picture I will get stoned. "But I'm stoned already, baby..." The road through Eastleigh is not a road but a pitted and potholed passageway where busses vie with hand drawn 'trailers' for command of the space.
Going out to Brenda's half-completed house (next to another, very opulent house) in the distant Ngong Hills ... Buying furniture (hand made queen size bed, in mahogany: R800) along Ngong Road on our return. Having supper at Brenda's aunt - owner of a modelling agency - in Kileleshwa. Recognising the differences between Maasai taxi drivers (in regular clothes) versus Kamba drivers versus Luos ... etc. I'm getting to 'see' the differences very clearly. Much laughter in assent when I ask the ethnic question... Buying a puppy - that looks Shepherd but isn't - on Peponi Road. The puppy's name is Moshoeshoe (after the King of the Basotho people) and she lives (of her own choice) under the elephant ear plants in the garden. (And talking of elephants ... a hilarious correction to my earlier assumption about elephants and Nakumatt... Nakumatt is actually derived from "Nakuru Mattress Company" and has absolutely nothing to do with elephants! Thanks, Kairu).
I have recently seen a few live bands that have been pretty good. On Sunday night at Black Diamond I saw a singer who has a voice that would fool the most ardent Marley fan. On the Wednesday before I saw a band at Club Afrique that would scare most pro bands in South Africa (yet they have one gig per week and play to small audiences).
So much more I could talk about ... Later.
Regarding the house mates: Rachel: she of dinner party and South Sudan technology consulting. Sheetal: an Asian Kenyan woman who consults in North Sudan on behalf of her principals in Italy. Then there’s Bob, a well-rounded and informed American with experience in drug and alcohol rehabilitation who is looking for work at an AIDS orphanage or similar (as an unpaid intern if necessary, he says).
Currently, Rachel is in the Sudan. Sheetal is about to embark on the same trade mission as I, and which I mentioned above. And Bob is in Kisumu, having some sort of assessment as a manager for a ‘home’ on the coastal border between Kenya and Tanzania, on Lake Victoria. Brenda and I have just been hanging out at home. I have been going to work and working hard - through lunch and into the night. Hence, so little time to write!
There is so much I want to tell you esteemed readers. But I guess, for now, this will have to do. Back to reviewing some proposals, writing some e-mails, and generally making myself worth Jane’s while…
In closing, here’s a poem I wrote a little while ago:
CAN YOU IMAGINE
Just like the tears of freedom
shed with Madiba,
Wembley Stadium, 1990
I’d still like to be here
(and cry)
when again
I can be a part of Afrika
that proudly says:
“Free at last, we’re Free at last”
KENYA,
CAN YOU
IMAGINE...
Africa!
the world
will shake!
Mapenzi sana
(Lots of love)
B-)
For the last two days I have been bothered by an e-mail I received from a close and loyal friend of mine, my ex-bass player, Nick. Nick has done a lot of work for ad agencies in Uganda and travels to this part of the world quite regularly. He accused me of being a little too glib in my criticism of Kenya, considering where South Africa had gone of late, and particularly seeing as I was a “newcomer to Kenya”. Kenya deserved more respect, he said.
I reacted harshly at first. Then I re-read some of my writing. The potential of being ‘read’ like this has bothered me from the start of my political diatribes. And I can see now that Nick was completely rational in seeing some of my later ranting (this year) as instructions to Kenya from a more ‘enlightened being’. Obviously, these pieces were never meant like that… Kenya, I am sorry for sounding in any way arrogant and bettter informed ... or whatever.
If truth be told, in my writing I have had to constantly downplay my adoration of this country and what I feel for its people (within such a short space of time!). This, for fear of being seen as some kinda weird sycophant. Kenya is an indescribably amazing country with blessedly beautiful people. I am secretly SO jealous of what Kenyans have got here (and you know, Kenyans, that I’m not alone in this ‘expat love’ of your country).
Your nation is very special. And this is before you close the gap between what is and what could be! Let me keep quiet about what could and should be. You can sort that out without the help of me. Kenyans, your spirit is so huge that somehow you triumph over your State-domination. How? I really can’t exclude my weird-freaky-ass-mystical take on it and say there’s just a multiplex “vibe” in Kenya. A vibe that, to me at least, can’t be denied. So much more than a “Hakuna Whatsitsface” attitude …
Closing advert: To become free, a lot of South Africans, of every description, put a lot of energy into hastening the end of Apartheid (in my case, through music and live performance). My children enjoy the fruits of a free (albeit violent) country today. That’s important to me. Kenya, if you are to become free, don’t leave it too long. The time really is NOW. Like it’s never been before. (And my view is vindicated by what I hear and read - increasingly - every day).
Kenyans, if there is no change, what legacy are you going to leave for your kids? You have to secure your basic freedoms now.
With a single stone, an ‘avalanche’ will start. Right here, right now.
Amani na Mapenzi
B-)
6.15am, Thursday 29th January 2009
I have been waking up very early of late. Never before have I survived on such little sleep. I’m making it through a pretty hectic day with about 5Hrs sleep on average. The UN Environmental Programme’s esteemed Jenny Clover (she of the TV set in her car) says it’s because I’m happy. I think she’s right. But at least some of the reason for my early waking this is the big sound of bird calls coming from the miniature forest that flourishes over the road from the apartment block. I can hear they are small birds, but the range of different calls is absolutely amazing and in the early morning light their music echoes across the small valley, in the absence of vehicle noise. The sound is really quite beautiful so early in the day.
At least some of the reason for my early rise is also the fact that I have to get to work at about 7.30 today to change the costing of a proposal we wrote yesterday, and send it to client before 9am…
I think there’s a spider in my bed somewhere. I have woken up with huge welts all over my body! I wake up to the sound of Kiss FM, having taken to sleeping with the radio on, playing ‘black’ R&B through the night. I like the music so much more than the white rock thing I’m used to from SA.
It’s now just past 6am and Thika Road is ALREADY jum-pucked according to Caroline Mutoko on Kiss FM. They have what they call ‘butterfly’ cameras on all the main routes and give the radio-listening Nairobi public regular traffic updates during the hilarious drive-time show. The Chinese have been widening and resurfacing Mombasa Road. Usually they stop work at 6am but today it seems they are working a bit later and causing a serious jum. Can you believe that already there are enough Nairobese on the roads – trying to avoid the later jum – to create a trufeek jum at a quarter past six on a Thursday!
Yesterday there was a serious fire at the Nakumatt Downtown. I saw the smoke from 10kms away while at the office. Many thousand Nairobese crowded the scene to watch the (much too late) attempts to extinguish the fire – the fire department, just around the corner, took over an hour to respond to the fire call, evidently. The TV footage showed the public having to be dispersed with tear gas as they crowded the scene and flooded all over the entrance to the Stanley (as in Livingstone) Hotel. (A hotel with prints of the most stunning woordcuts and paintings all over the walls).
Kenya's teachers are on strike. I just heard that the average teachers salary is Ksh7000 before tax. They clear Ksh5800 after tax. That’s less than R800 folks (and, as I have said before, Nairobi ain’t cheap!). No wonder they have gone on strike. A few have been arrested and are currently languishing in Nairobi jails. The rest are simply refusing to work. Government says there’s no more money in the fiscus for their needs. One of Kenya's MP’s is, meantime, effecting renovations to his house to the tune of a few million Shillings. And, believe it or not, most parents are fully in support of the strike. They say they would rather pay a bit more in school fees and know that their kids are getting a good education!
Yesterday Kiss took a microphone and tape recorder onto the streets and interviewed some kids, about the State President. The first kid interviewed said “President Kibaki is a bud mun…”, the next said “President Kibaki has to get everything for free…” I guess that gives you some idea of popular (even young) sentiment here!
Caroline has just bought the latest copy of True Love (that same magazine that is published in SA). She is raving on air about the magazine and tells us that there’s an article in the magazine about bachelors who can’t be read. I'm not quite sure what she means. The bachelors are illegible, according to Caroline. I wonder if they are also eligible to find a partner soon, while still eluding one’s ability to read them?
Sunday, 1st February 2009
It has been an event-filled few weeks since I last wrote.
The first bit of news is that I found a house to rent in the greenbelt suburb of Spring Valley (on Spring Hill, really). Less a house than some sort of mansion, the place has an enormous living area, four bedrooms inside and two cottages outside (yet to be ‘done-up’). Entering the place for the first time (following a tip-off from the Maasai 'askari' - security guard - at our offices), I knew I wanted to live here immediately. It is really beautiful. Expensive, yes, but I have found three house-mates who allow me to pay a fairly normal rental on the place. Unfortunately it doesn’t have a pool but the garden makes up for that on its own. And the pair of black kites that are seen continually circling the sky above our roof just add a little extra something. From the sounds of things there are monkeys living close by too.
Spring Valley is home to a lot of those big-ass four-wheel-drive vehicles I have talked about, with red UN, RC and CD (Corps Diplomatique) number plates. The other day, going to work, I also had the big black Mercedes (replete with Kenyan flag) of our neighbour, a Minister of Parliament (ministry unknown), driving behind me. And coming home the other night, I gave a lift to a late-for-duty policeman (replete with Uzzi sub-machine gun) to the road in which said minister lives. Spring Valley Road has security-controlled access, so I guess it is quite safe living here. I certainly feel safe because I have not yet closed the French doors that lead from the ‘master’ bedroom onto the garden. Anyway, as is the style of large Nairobi homes, we have employed our own security in the form of genuine Samburu Maasai ‘warrior’ (those from northern Kenya who look quite a lot like Somalis) who loves listening to reggae on Radio Metro.
And talking of Somalis, I had the honour the other night of meeting Mima – a member of the Somali royal family – and her husband Jon, a Norwegian who is so into, and knowledgable about, alternative technology it’s frightening. Clearly a genius in his own right, Jon has so much to offer Africa … And he’s about to participate in a sort-of Kyoto Protocol meeting being held here in Nairobi from Monday and featuring the environmental heads of 166 countries, or their emissaries (and his company is called Kyoto!). This meeting is being organized by Jaime’s (my fellow research director) girlfriend, Melissa. She promises to send me a summary of proceedings. I’ll try write more about the new global environment agenda as soon as I get the summary from Melli.
Monday, 23rd February 2009.
It’s been nearly a month since I have written. Work has kept me from it.
I am due to fly to Entebbbe, Uganda, this Sunday as part of a week-long Trade Mission to Kampala and Kigali, Rwanda. Through the East Africa Association, I have set up a number of meetings with people who might be interested in research in their part of the world. I will likely be most enthused when I return and promise to write furiously. Can’t wait.
Moving into this house has been an amazing experience. It has given me a sense of real belonging here and has made me feel that much more comfortable than before (if it’s possible for me to feel more comfortable). Sign of this, perhaps, is that I have got me a lovely ‘girlfriend’. I won’t breach her confidence here, but suffice it to say that Brenda is an amazing woman who I would never have imagined to meet in Kenya. Whatever her soon-to-start contract in Dubai might bring, we have had more fun in a short while than either of us has had in years. She is a part-time model and a rather gifted artist and stylist. She is also a born mimic who has me in stitches with her take on local politicians (and also a few friends of ours). She is really quite special and I suspect (Dubai aside) that we will be together for a while still.
Returning swiftly to my new resident status in Kenya (while still waiting for my permanent resident permit)…
I am increasingly asked, by intrigued Kenyans, about how long I have been here. I am now myself amazed by the fact that I have been here for a mere eleven weeks! I feel like it’s been years already! I feel like I somehow came home and that I am meant to be here. I have numerous local, Kenyan, friends – many of them through Brenda - yet I still get amazed on a daily basis at what I find here. I love this place. It just has SO much going for it.
What is REALLY amazing to me is the fact that I am understanding a great deal of Swahili in daily use. My researchers rattle something off to me and somehow I get the gist of it … They laugh.
Meantime, what other news of Kenya (habari ya Kenya)?
… so much is news that it’s hard to cover it. Brief notes follow:
Shopping in Eastleigh, among thousands of Somalis, Ethiopians and Sudanese. Nothing you can't get for quarter the price you'll pay in town. Every woman wearing a head scarf. Burkas, burkas everywhere, and not a face to see. Brenda warning me that if I take a picture I will get stoned. "But I'm stoned already, baby..." The road through Eastleigh is not a road but a pitted and potholed passageway where busses vie with hand drawn 'trailers' for command of the space.
Going out to Brenda's half-completed house (next to another, very opulent house) in the distant Ngong Hills ... Buying furniture (hand made queen size bed, in mahogany: R800) along Ngong Road on our return. Having supper at Brenda's aunt - owner of a modelling agency - in Kileleshwa. Recognising the differences between Maasai taxi drivers (in regular clothes) versus Kamba drivers versus Luos ... etc. I'm getting to 'see' the differences very clearly. Much laughter in assent when I ask the ethnic question... Buying a puppy - that looks Shepherd but isn't - on Peponi Road. The puppy's name is Moshoeshoe (after the King of the Basotho people) and she lives (of her own choice) under the elephant ear plants in the garden. (And talking of elephants ... a hilarious correction to my earlier assumption about elephants and Nakumatt... Nakumatt is actually derived from "Nakuru Mattress Company" and has absolutely nothing to do with elephants! Thanks, Kairu).
I have recently seen a few live bands that have been pretty good. On Sunday night at Black Diamond I saw a singer who has a voice that would fool the most ardent Marley fan. On the Wednesday before I saw a band at Club Afrique that would scare most pro bands in South Africa (yet they have one gig per week and play to small audiences).
So much more I could talk about ... Later.
Regarding the house mates: Rachel: she of dinner party and South Sudan technology consulting. Sheetal: an Asian Kenyan woman who consults in North Sudan on behalf of her principals in Italy. Then there’s Bob, a well-rounded and informed American with experience in drug and alcohol rehabilitation who is looking for work at an AIDS orphanage or similar (as an unpaid intern if necessary, he says).
Currently, Rachel is in the Sudan. Sheetal is about to embark on the same trade mission as I, and which I mentioned above. And Bob is in Kisumu, having some sort of assessment as a manager for a ‘home’ on the coastal border between Kenya and Tanzania, on Lake Victoria. Brenda and I have just been hanging out at home. I have been going to work and working hard - through lunch and into the night. Hence, so little time to write!
There is so much I want to tell you esteemed readers. But I guess, for now, this will have to do. Back to reviewing some proposals, writing some e-mails, and generally making myself worth Jane’s while…
In closing, here’s a poem I wrote a little while ago:
CAN YOU IMAGINE
Just like the tears of freedom
shed with Madiba,
Wembley Stadium, 1990
I’d still like to be here
(and cry)
when again
I can be a part of Afrika
that proudly says:
“Free at last, we’re Free at last”
KENYA,
CAN YOU
IMAGINE...
Africa!
the world
will shake!
Mapenzi sana
(Lots of love)
B-)
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