Friday, 18 January 2013

#PartyNominationsKE: The Lessons to Be Learnt

The Nominations for party bearers in various political positions in Kenya have been, to say the least, disappointing.

Places like Siaya have witnessed some semblance of unrest witnessed 5 years ago, which the country is trying hard to ensure it happens not again.

But it seems we forget fast, and we mourn later.

Mutuma Mathiu has his own views expressed on the disturbing scenario presented by the party nominations in Kenya.

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The political party nominations are a complete, utter fiasco, and they tell us a great deal about Kenya’s political culture.
First, and this is what puts the lives of all us in danger, is that politicians are a law unto themselves.
They will take whatever reckless risk they want so long as it advances their political agenda.
The big coalitions – Cord, Jubilee and Amani – put off their nominations yesterday (Thursday).
Their calculations is that by doing so, it would deny their members an opportunity to defect should they lose in the primaries.
So, they all went out, in the manner of sleep-walkers, to conduct a massive undertaking, almost in the same shape as a general election, allowing themselves only a couple of hours to do the polling, the counting, the tabulation of results, the processing of results, the appeals, adjudication and re-runs and dispute resolution.

All within 24 hours.
It takes our usually incompetent electoral commission months, if not years, of preparation and billions of shillings to mount a similar undertaking, often with disastrous results.
The parties believed their own delusions of adequacy and thought that they had the mechanisms to carry out a nationwide election and have a credible result in a couple of hours.
The fundamental problem is that everything is subordinated to the base wishes of politicians. We wrote a constitution and laws which addressed exactly this kind of embarrassing chaos.
The Political Parties Act was written, I believe, by reasonably smart people, to strengthen parties and free them from being taken hostage by candidates at election time.
It required that one be a member of a party for at least six months before one is offered a ticket to run for office.
Therefore, they needed to have been party members in October 2012 for them to be nominated to run in this election.
In their own wisdom, and because they have no discipline, class or sense of proportion, MPs started messing around with those provisions to make life easier for themselves.
At first, they reduced the period to three months, perhaps because they were worried that if they declared that they were members of parties other than those that sent them to Parliament, they would lose their jobs.
They messed with the law until that safety period was completely removed, thus allowing political parties to attempt to carry out nominations for the senate, MP, governor, and women’s representative in a single day only hours to the close of the official nomination period by the Independent Electoral Commission.
Meanwhile, the IEBC, which has independence boldly displayed on its name and nowhere else, as well as the Registrar of Political Parties, have been sitting on their hands and trying to disappear into the chairs in the hope that no one notices them and takes offence.
Those two institutions appear to be run by nancy boys and inoffensive little ladies who can’t understand why people don’t seem to get along – people to whom the position, the prestige and the money is more important than the imperative need to exercise control over a political system long gone rogue for the sake of our country.
We can’t move ahead unless we get organised. The nominations would suggest we are far from getting it.

Sunday, 13 January 2013

What were they thinking, these sadistic #MPigs?

Following public outrage President Kibaki has rightly denounced the ridiculous Sh9.3 million sendoff package sought by outgoing MPs.
The President directed the Attorney-General to redraft the Bill to ensure it complies with the Constitution.
This is good news to taxpayers who, on Thursday night, felt betrayed by the lawmakers.
What really infuriates many citizens is why the public should accord a state funeral to the current crop of legislators, many of them on their first term, and who, in any case, will be voted out by their constituents on March 4.
Why should public funds be spent on providing ex-MPs with armed bodyguards for the rest of their lives while armed gangs terrorise Tana Delta and city slums with abandon?
The attempt to raid public coffers in total disregard of the state of the economy was simply selfish and out of step with the kind of leadership Kenyans yearn for.
What the MPs sought in retirement benefits does not make sense for our struggling economy.
In fact, the whole Bill reeked of impunity and was in bad faith.
The move was a bald-faced attempt to legally steal from what the public worked tirelessly to produce.

Sunday, 16 December 2012

Where are all the good men? @bikozulu Version


 There are no good men out there. That is according to ladies. Because the current crop of men are not living out to their standards. Or perhaps the ladies have themselves to blame for not finding the Mr Right.

Jackson Biko, alias @bikozulu, thinks otherwise. Have a read:


Take a lady. A professional lady. Age: 32, well schooled and with a decent enough job, probably works as a logistics manager at one of those NGOs that dig boreholes in Turkana and helps goat farmers in Mwingi market their milk better. She swears she loves her job.
She drives a VW Polo – silver – a car that also doubles as a shoe rack given the number of shoes on the floor at the back. She lives in a clichéd neighbourhood with the rest of the middle-class types and goes to church diligently because she was raised in a staunch catholic home.
Her value system is solid. Oh, and she’s a single mother of one. A boy. Or girl. Doesn’t matter. But it would be nice, for the sake of this story if she had a girl because visually you’d see her matching her little girl’s attire with her own shoes. And purse.
You might have guessed by now that this girl is single. She doesn’t talk about the “baby daddy” as they are now called. But when she does, he’s referred to using colourful adjectives like “useless”, “pathetic” and other words that my editor won’t allow to be printed here. But she isn’t bitter, oh God forbid no, as she says of him: “He isn’t worth my emotion and time.”

You shouldn’t be surprised that the sum total of her experiences has made her exceedingly cynical of men. But to her credit, this stand isn’t too unrealistic because apparently the dating game is marred by men who are virtually undatable. I wouldn’t know, men aren’t my type.
This woman will tell you a story about her driving to work one morning, and how at a junction, while waiting to join a road, she saw this gentleman in a swanky BMW X5.
“He was young, hot, neat and looked very well put together,” she’ll gush. And you will picture that guy too, I mean we see them in traffic; those pretty boys who have the windows of their juggernauts all rolled up in traffic because the smell of their success might come out of the car and suffocate the underserving masses.
So yes we know what she is talking about. Then she will finish this story by posing a bemoaned question, “ where do you find a decent man like that in this town? Unbeknownst to her, with this question she joins a chorus of women, wondering what happened to good single men to date.

Her routine is depressing: she goes to work until 6, goes home early to “bond” with the child, dinner (only salad remember she’s searching and she got to keep her waistline from forming a restless coalition with her bum), then curl in bed with a chapter of a book like Shades of Grey (which doesn’t help her sense of reality much) then black out. Repeat this the next day. And the next.
Once in a while, she will attend a random cocktail. Saturdays she works half day, then heads home to check on baby, then perhaps later she attends a chama with her girls. Or a random play at the theatre. Sunday is church then lunch and afternoon with her baby. Repeat this every week. Every month. Every year.
So in essence the only time she sees a man she almost likes, is in traffic which limits her pool to men in traffic (with their windows rolled up) and traffic cops. Tough life.
But it’s not that she isn’t hit on. She is hit on all the damned time: by married men. And losers. The married crowd you can understand, but losers? That she has to define. “ Oh,” she explains, “There are men who have no future; jokers who just want to drink and have a random shag. Boys!”

Her narrative goes back to her question: where are the good men like the hot chap in the BMW.
What she doesn’t know is that there is a good likelihood that the “hot” chap in the BMW is married. Women know how to clean up a man. So yes, Mr Hot-shot BMW could be spoken for. Or he could be gay.
Let’s be honest, the gay guys scrub up well. The guy could even be a mess – serial womaniser, control freak, childhood issues, druggie, commitment-phobic - and he masks his weaknesses with the car and the clothes. All that glitters…

What this woman might not know is that to meet a man she might like she has to change her routine, open herself up for interactions. So take a different route home; join a gym or drink in a different bar (and for goodness’ sake, drink less!) and most importantly be open minded to interact with men who isn’t “her type”.
Self-help books are also to blame. They have made women rigid in their tunnel-visioned quest to “go for what you want, what you deserve.”
In the process they miss out on good things because they have ridiculous pre-conceived notion of what they deserve. The result? They continue staring at men in traffic.

Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Caroline MUTOKO: A Rant's Worst Nightmare

There has been a spirited frenzy in our social pages all against the Radio Queen; and an equally defensive streak of spew.

Caroline Mutoko apparently stepped on wrong toes - too many times - and toes wouldn't take it in further.

So they erupted in furore, and formed pages, and criticized, and wrote bad things about her.

They put fotos, then raved and ranted unprintable adjectives purporting to describe her attitude.

Naysayers and idlers have never had a field event than the elevated platform, and this brought more bile, and caused other bad things.

And Carol responded, and called em haters, and other said losers.

This is one of the brilliant criticizer i have read, from Kenyalist.com, who didn't employ expletives to put a point across.

Dear Caroline Mutoko: My Beef With Kenchic Ceo
I just want to use my own listing (not your wall) to vent out on Kenchic CEO about some things

1) In the 80s Kenchic chillie sauce used to be genuine Peptang, undiluted. Siku hizi they just mix chillie powder and maji in a bottle of mineral water. They just pierce a musumari on the top and as guys are supposed to buy that? CarolineMutoko dear honey, I want to let you know that I think a lot about you when I have to shake that chupa of settled chillie sauce just to 'get it done'. However if you can holla at that Kenchic boss to give out an order to all the

2) Kenchic has a FB page but I will not use it. They are the ones I have beef with, how will they take criticism seriously. I dont take criticism lightly. You dont. Remember the plagiarism thing the other day? You literally told us you dont give a foyk??? I got an instant boner that time.

3) The chickens have been becoming smaller through the years. When outing on sunday I used to stand outside Kenchic windows to see Kukuz zungukaring. Uuuuuuuuuuuuup Doooooooown. Its a wonderful site. I go from Kenchic to Kenchic comparing on the window. (somewhat like what eastlandoz do with phone shops). Now caroline you say you dont like to see small things being posted on your wall? I also dont!!!! When I was a Kid one row of Kuku on the Window used to have 4 big chicken.....now there is 7 small chicken. Smaaaaaaaaall small things.

4) Who came up with the idea that forks can be replaced with toothpicks? I miss the days you could take a fork and just finyilia kitu 7 pieces of chipo and swallow yote. Chew for 5 minutes as you weigh the asses that walk into Kenchic. Kenchic never used to have skinny chics. Skinny chics used to go to Maggies and some cake shop near the Dolce Club in the 80s.

Id go crazy if you sort me out with this Kenchic CEO problem of mine but anyway if you beech around I will still get a boner. I like it when ladies play hard to niiiiiiniiiiiii.