OF FOOD AND FUEL

When the fuel and food prices began to overwhelm what i have always been taught to understand as the oil in the economics of this country, the middle-class, then i knew somehow that route11 and Sossi(instead of beef) was not the exclusive preserve of us, the unfortunate class. It has been a sobering realization to see that the higher you climb up the economic ladder, the louder the thud when you involuntarily hit the ground.Relative to the rest of the petty bourgeois, there are those in the country used to being at the bottom end of the ladder, where stampede for crumbs can be equaled to Sonko's persevering antics, especially towards walls.

I have seen various countries in a panic response choose to put effective mechanisms to curb the menace here. I had hoped that my country, Kenya, would have the gift of such benevolence and rise to the occasion to protect the poor, but no, it was not to be. I could imagine the almost morbidly obese bureaucrats rolling their eyes, thinking:"What is this Unga Group outside parliament talking about? When they've been eating shit their entire lives?'

In fact, i would vehemently oppose to any insinuation that i am poor, and i refuse to be categorized with the wretched of the earth. This is because am one of those upwardly mobile persons, who are well-educated and, most significantly, can afford bread on the table! I am also a member a member of a club, and a society, whose members i understand, lubricate the wheels of this country's economy with its unrestrained consumption, and often as conspicuously as our pockets allow.

Now that the food prices have gone through the ceiling and transport woes are becoming part of us, i am forced to abruptly downgrade from my lavish, comfortable lifestyle to an undignified existence.

What my government fails to appreciate is that we, wenye wako down tu sana, have a penchant for the finer things in life and that this lifestyle is the medicine for the country's economy. I resent not being able to make my regular outings to those expensive restaurants to savor the finest food i once could not even pronounce. Gone are the lasagnas, king burgers, the cheese and wine, single-malt whiskeys and good rave. I want to be the knight in shining Armani once again.

Now i have to grow contend with that tasteless Ugali as my staple diet again, plus some occasional sniff of Sossi to assuage my sanity-altering cravings for Mexican beef. My palate has taken this culinary assault with remarkable poise, but i will not venture to comment on what this difficult, dark periiod has done to my super-sized ego-or whatever has been left of it.

The lowest moment of all was watching the cockroaches from my house embark on a Great trek over to the neighbors for greener pastures.