Kampala


Kampala here I come. After a break of four odd months languishing in the villa’, I am ready to let go, a bottle cold Bell Lager in my hand is all I need. Ready to live life and handle the small matter of reading towards a University degree, that is if I don’t lose the plot along the way.

I must say I have missed the place seriously; the yucky tasting matoke and groundnut sauce on beans and queer tasting banana juice is imprinted on my mind, weirder women and rare chaps. Yeah I miss the life.

That isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed Kenya, somewhere in the middle of my attachment job, a weekend in Nairobi lies hazy, blurred by a hangover and covered in smoke. Its memories fleeting.

I have thinking about my writing, particularly the poetic side of myself. This is because words had dried up. Was I going to be a unborn poet, with rhymes stillborn in my mind? But all is good now slowly I’ve been regaining it and plodding towards the heavens, one line at a time. I’ve now found out that it is very easy to call yourself a poet but very hard to be one.

But I am going to be one or die trying.

Bored

I have been checking out other blog hosts and all seem kinda inferior.

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Music and Kenya

I like to think of myself as receptive and appreciative of all types of music, that is among other things, so I have been up to my ears in our, read Kenyan music. Listening to it, liking it, sometimes that is, and ultimately trying to discern what is behind the music. This has left me sometimes fulfilled and others downright disgust. First to the fulfilment:

There is a hip hop group called UKOO FLANI. Their offering is hard core hippity hop. With two albums, ‘Dandora Burning’ and ‘Kilio Cha Haki’’ (A Cry for Justice/truth in English) they push the bar for hip hop excellence higher. Maybe it’s because they’ve got Kenya’s hip hop pioneers in their ranks. But, man, do they rock. Singing about the ghettos they live in, and the hustles they go through is way, way too cool. The thing that stands out is that there isn’t any pretence in their lyrics. This isn’t for the guy after a club hit (there are some in there by the way) but a chap who wants to bob his head as he hears the words.

Save for a few other chaps & ladies. I have been slowly getting fed up with the excuses for music guy are putting out as tracks.

You find a track with no sense to it. Granted it has the beat, it starts and then it ends but after that zilch. Club tracks are alright, coz I mean who doesn’t like to party. After a quafty day, some dancing and some drinks are just the thing to chill you out. But if you are going to release a club track have some decency to offer your 100 percent
Computer generated beats are fine, but after a while they start getting old. Even a 100 year old kid who doesn’t have to be a nerd can do it. Releasing half-baked stuff, while hankering for your 15 minutes of fame is lame, man! Better settle in some white/blue collar nine to five arrangements. Coz music is an art form innit! And if you can hack it keep off.

All this said, there is a music scene, albeit underground (if you can call it that) and not the ‘underground’ that every new wannabe keeps harping about, that’s thriving. You can hear it at the poetry readings KWANI hosts every month and other gatherings where true artists let rip and you can only watch in awe.

PEACE

Rock and Roll

Today, I lean towards my favourite kind of music, Rock music.  

I have often wondered where the name came from, the banging of two rocks maybe?  Most likely it's because of the way the music has its own hands which grab and do their best to rock you.   Or is it the lyrics in their intensity and verve which describe the name 'rock' truly.

Whatever it is the music can only be described as awesome.  This isn't some faddish thought because rock seems to be on everyone's mind these days.  After the last chap leaves when the next big genre of music arrive I'm certain that I will still be here clutching onto my Evanescence CD case as 'My Immortal" plays in the background.

The CD currently on my mind is the new release from Bob Dylan.  After some years is being in the background of news with him being on the road touring.  This album is more or less vintage Bob.  Modern Times as it is called starts with 'Thunder on the Mountain'.  A kind of chant, if I may call it that, with the voice of God at the mountains.

Listening to it just remind you that whatever Bob Dylan offer we will keep lapping it up.

Cheers

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Thoughts

 

I have been thinking about the Kenyatta Day celebrations or particularly, the remarks the president made.  For those not in the know, he called some chaps 'pumbavu' that is the Swahili version of idiot or dim wit or fool or stupid whichever you prefer.  This is not the first time he has done this and probably not the last.

 

Called some a fool is not bad, if you think he is a fool that is, and I am of the view that he is entitled to his opinion and if he wants to call others fools he should be ready to be called by the same name.

 

Some chap who thought he had a brain wave, an MP, I think, said that we should excuse him because of his age.  That is pure rubbish.  Is it that old age gives one license to name calling.  That is why I am against placing old age on a pedestal for worship.  Just because you are a bit older, doesn't mean that you be allowed to have you way on everything.  There are exceptions to this which mostly come about due to common sense; everybody knows that giving up a seat in the bus to an old frail lady is the sensible thing to do.  

 

Old age is overrated; the only good thing that I know you get out of it is experience.  After those many years, experience put common sense where it should be, that is, before everything you do.  One of the things I hate most about old age is the accompanying grumpiness, that irritating behaviour, which the offending party is most oblivious to.  The fact that most people have tolerated it in the name of accepting people of advanced age is most shameful.  Some of whom now know that the will most certainly get away with anything hence the 'pumbavu' remarks.

 

That brings me to the second point.  Does anybody know if the president of our beloved republic uses 'pumbavu' terms in private, maybe even in jest?  I'd welcome any correction but if he does then there is no good reason why public use of the same is an unimaginable occurrence.  The chap is human after all.  We can't go about expecting the president to be a saint can we?

 

My thoughts are somewhat opposing each other but what I think is clear is that everybody is capable of name calling ( not a bad thing in itself) but trying to explain or justify that in the name of old age is just too lame.

 

Cheers

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Theocracy

My last post was on theocracy. I felt that I should post a letter that I sent to the editor of one of our local dailies who didn’t deem it for for publishing.

The subject threatens to be a rather emotive one but we shouldn’t get carried away, because behind all the moral/Christian posturing there appears to be a definitive plan to further the theocratic agenda.

I think it would be unfair to do this; this is all I can say without getting angrier




Kericho, home


Kericho is a very cool place, literally that is, it is damn cold and after I shaved my hair after two years of trying to grow dreadlocks it was like almost putting ice on your head. The sensation of cold wind hitting your head is one that I would seriously wish upon an enemy.

You see I have been here for the past 4 months, the longest stretch since circumstance moved me to Nairobi. The months have been kind of both slow and fast depending on where I was at, at the time.

I have been doing some attachment job. It has been alright doing what I enjoy and lounging at the same time. The company is great and the people working here are just poa.

The 4 months have passed sometimes slowly and boring and sometimes refreshingly quick. Slowly I’ve been seeing this place in a different light. It brings a whole new twist to ‘poet’s idyll’.

I have been watching chaps around my digs and the small shopping centre around, trying to get to know what they are up to. (After all I’m trying to be a journalist) So slowly I’ve built up a small list of the most interesting characters in this place. Interesting as in, both good and bad interesting. (Hope you don’t mind the repetition)

There is this chap who I thought once knew because his face is so familiar, but then when I look again I don’t know him. Every other time I meet him or pass him on the way, a smell of raw bananas seems to shadow him and even overtake him because by the time you are level with breathing brings tears to your eyes. But the smell is but one part of his persona; the guy will feign drunkenness and stagger about only for a momentary lapse when he walks properly and then a sheepish look when he remembers what he has just done.

More on my list after it has gotten more definitive.

Cheers.