KCSE 2012: What We Can learn

Its lovely watching the announcement of KCSE results. The kerfuffle, brouhaha, spirited intros and lovely speeches. I loved watching Mr. Etyang and the choir. He was my music teacher in High school. Professor Ongeri read results upto hundredth positions. I may never know the reason for such chutzpah. Perhaps its the idea that this might be his last public announcer in such ministerial capacity.

Maranda High school has topped. Wow!

Both Alliances, Starehe Boys' then Mang'ú. Who leveled the playing field? 11.8 points by a school. This is dexterity and commendation should be in order.  St. Peters' Seminary has listed the top candidate, Job Nalianya.

I faced this day years ago; the day of redemption. I remember that day, anxious and apprehensive, my heart yielding to panic before announcement of results. There was an inkling of my expected grade(s), but needed an official confirmation, a stamp that would decide the path i would take in future.

Before joining the top-rated high school in the country, i knew i would end up being a neurosurgeon, thanks to my infatuation with Ben Carson's paperbacks. Four years later it obvious I was good in literature, theater plays and spoken word. I had no love for Chemistry and basic Biology was a bore.

I will graduate with Bsc. Actuarial Science, finish CFA and CSIA papers, and rot in the realm of securities. The country has lost a brilliant movie director, script writer and actor. Our parents want their children in blue-chip companies; not rolling tapes for entertainment purposes. No one wants to understand that informal sector is oiling the bulk of the country's economy. It is unfortunate.

That is why many are pursuing courses irrelevant with their liking. The society has been forced to embrace worthiness of white-and-blue-collar jobs, disregarding the very cradle for employment; doing what you best can to the benefit of the society. If what you are doing fails your desires, it is obvious very little effort is put for the desired result.

Students are oiling their brains day and night, swotting to weird extremities, their hearts beating achingly to one desire; that of getting a degree in various institutions of higher learning. That is why constituent colleges have sprung up, with roof-top institutions peddling degrees to eager just-out-of-fourth-form junkies, irrespective of their dull grades. And its also reason why weird and ludicrous courses have jammed the lecture rooms.

Not everyone is celebrating today. There are those who have disappointed their parents, and the society. Those parents that stared directly into their eyes just before KCSE exams, and reminded them how hard they have worked to ensure their smooth sail in high school. The moment they will register Catty or Doggy results, they will feel a pang of guilt. The nearest tall tree and a rope will be the absolution to the guilt. Case Study: Suicides due to recently announced KCPE results.

Parents have forgotten diploma and certificate courses. They want that pride; my daughter is doing law in University of Something, my son is pursuing medicine and so on. Everybody is full of bull nowdays. Great personalities did not tap their greatness from grades, but by conviction of what they knew of themselves. Those who were not eligible for University and had passion for, let's say Engineering, commenced with certificate from local polytechnics, then a dip from a college, post dip before securing a place in varsity for their degrees.Do not fake your disability to achieve on your full potential on drab grades, that is pathetic reasoning.

Those who have A's and parents will never allow them to take arts, i feel you. Dont despair though, do what you can do with the course you will pursue, but dont let your dream die. Join a chorister, do a musical, enroll for dancing classes and perhaps, perhaps your parents will value your desires.

Dont join varsity for a hogwash course so that everybody in the village will respect you. Join Maseno for Soil Science, or Moi for Ethics and after graduating, the respect will dissipate. If you are not good in books, and you appreciate you weakness, be Oliech, be Mariga, be Karume. Earn em dollars in other ways, play football, make tracks your home, play with numbers in streets, marry a microphone and be an MC. Be anything you want to be, let no goals be impended by results.

And perhaps we can all be termed as winners!

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Nderitu wa Njoka, Louis Otieno, John Michuki: A tale of three Kenya men

Nderitu wa Njoka

They ask what is in a name. I ask what man bears such name? A disconsolate name with fatuous ring on it. Such man is intrepid if he loves the glare of cameras, the stain of his vulgar name on print media, a jest from the mouth of rumor-mongers, a topic trending in social media. Hail the leader of Maendeleo ya Wanaume (MAWE)

When his cogent burr wafts through our ears, clogging the senses of reasoning, scratching the veneer of reasoning, i digress. He genuinely talks for men, beleaguered in distress, embroiled in troubled marriages, suffocating under stench of inflicted mass-extinction (if hailing from Nyeri).  Apparently MAWE is an outfit resembling FIDA, the woman's mouthpiece.

The high rate of Nyeri men undergoing physical re-arrangement by the section of their ribs angered this Njoka guy, the plight on the Sunday victim being the last straw. The jowl on his pampered face moved rhythmically with his clenched jaw, kerfuffle-ing in tandem with his body sway, an irascible rage the end-product of his flak to the women suspects. Such vim!

Then, to my horror, he confirmed, to our worst fears, that he has nothing between his ears. He inveighed against women by demanding a long-week hunger strike!

HUNGER fucking STRIKE?

By Jove! show me a Kiddy-garten pamper-adorning toddler who can afford such luxury in pitiable bull-shit and i will gladly show you an egg that cannot crack under a clamp.  I have endured his loony kvetchs but this was clap-trap indecipherable. He works so hard to make a laughing-stock out of honorable outfit, this Njoka guy is!

Louis Otieno is a besieged fella. A successful chic from a rich back-ground, a top-rated TV host star, Kilimani, hospital bills, note, suicide, strangulation, death, a hot Chepchumba, police and you have a complete Love-Affair-Gone-Awry saga. Best advice to Louis, run for your life. Definitively!

RIP John Michuki. Time we rattled the snake...

NYERI MEN: The Art of Male Battery in Kenya

Imagine this,

You are a man. You arrive home after decorating your throat with cheap daiquiri in a local den dished in sooty tins as glasses. You hic to the effect that you need food to your other half, oblivious of the emanating fetid stench from your mouth exacerbating her already irked spirits.

The food is cold and you struggle with it but it completely refuses to go down your throat. You begin realizing your wife has commenced serving shit for supper, what with the emetic taste. You chastise and remind her where she belongs in an African family setting.

Her egregious habit makes doldrums creep through the collar of your shirt and the evening is spoilt. You rise and stagger towards bedroom, then halts suddenly, this woman's fatuous actions overwhelming your feeling. You turn around to add another volley of castigation towards her when you spot a shining blade at the control of a matronly woman targeting your neck.

You are quickly sober, you mind clear and gaze appalled at the approaching blade, then at your wife's determined countenance, then at the fast approaching blade again. Your wide eyes are receipting the environment in a slow motion mode, as if through series of photographic slides, before ducking.

The last you can remember is trying to locate your dislodged jaw, your dismembered hand and your shattered ego infront of cameras, pouring your tribulations to Nderitu Njoka, the MAWE (Maendeleo ya Ihii) boss.

This is the fear an average man in Nyeri County is facing in his matrimonial home.

Men battering will soon overtake maladies as a major cause for hospital incarcerations in Nyeri. Women are blaming men on forfeiture of their marital responsibilities, inebriation and blatant aloofness as a result of vile caused by deadly cheap alcohol.

Raphael Tuju launched his political Party of Action (POA) yesty-day. Melikes this humble servant, his sagacious reasoning , his ebullient nature. He is visionary, young and possesses an assiduous catchet. This is a clarion call to all and sundry to take into account the readiness of a leader to serve the nation on achievable ideals and not mere tribalistic cheap-talk propaganda.

I was brought up with serenading musical tones of Whitney Houston. In high school days, we would plaster her lyrics on letters as dedications to our potential soul-mates. Her demise is a cause of sadness to the world spanning all ages.

African Cups of Nations ended yesternight with a sizzling match between Zambia and Ivory-Coast. Drogba's only chance to hold the cup turned foul when his penalty went above the bars. Gervinho's and Toure's blatant shoot-outs sealed their fate and gave the Chipolopolo their needed win, dedicating to the '93 team that perished in a crash.

Muffled Killers: What went wrong in Kenya?

Last year i caught up with a client along Kimathi Street and ushered him in one of handful up-class restaurants within the street. CCTVs, G4S guards and a mannequin with an overflowing coat ushered us in. Serene and dimly-lit, an environment suitable for a briefcase rendezvous.

My client's fervor spirit immediately gave in to deprecation and barrage of effusive castigation about my choice of the place. I feigned ignorance, for i was really ignorant.

I let mine eyes get accustomed to the surrounding and gulped hard. Yes, the place was darn familiar. Skimpily dressed courtesans batting their eyes at us tables away. We were in a bordello!

I was contrite and profusely apologized for the incidence.

So Nairobi Mayor, George Aladwa, invades the telly space and manages two cents worth of something about legalizing prostitution.The statement is mired with social incorrectness, so he follows his campaign PR's sage and come the next day, the family man with a wife and daughters is filled with compunction, apologizes to the potential voters and asserts the media mis-quote him. Way to go Governor!

It gets juicer. Anne Soi Mwendia, a senior reporter with KTN comes up with a startling revelation about male harlotry in her documentary Muffled Killers.The cogent realization biffed my conscience, down to my throat.

John cried!

Soon public rage was witnessed in social networks, radio discussions et al. Most excoriated the vice, few sympathized. Argue the genetic way and i'll brand you worse expletives than envisaged by our faggot brothers.

I have always had a loathing for faggotry - that uncharacteristic act of chewing asses - for sexual gratification. My certitude ideals have been further strengthened after watching effete masculine figures with effeminate voices, trying to woo the public's battered conscious into accepting them, understand them, hug them with their pink tees.

I remember worrying about a trend of men who are evolving into sissies, the idea of facials, plastic surgery and tights. How does a man wear tights and be comfortable with them?