Of Collusions and Red Eyed Monsters

The week is just halfway gone and the drama has been epic. 

On the political front, our crafty, conniving and thieving politicians have been coalescing around ‘common goals and values’ and forming ‘coalitions’ as we gear up to the next general (s)election. Of course the different factions all have a common goal which is to rape and plunder the country when they get to positions of control. So what they have been doing is choosing the most compatible thief and the coalitions are just collusions between tribal chiefs towards shared vices guised as amalgamations between shared values. 

Tribe is the bargaining chip here and if you do not hold the promise of an ethnic voting bloc, your clout is minimal and the chances that you’ll be of much value to the main ‘horses’ are as that of laying a twilight girl on credit.  Mandarins that were on each other’s throats just a week ago are now tightly embracing and salivating at the thought of capturing power and ‘enhancing national unity.’ Anyway the electorate gets what it deserves and since we keep on (s)electing the same blood clot bagas and I can bet my little finger we will still do that again, let me rest my case. Hopefully His Imperial Majesty (HIM) will open our eyes and vote in the lesser devil from amongst the lot.

On a personal front it has been a good week and a half where I butter my bread as I have had the opportunity to discard my usual tools of trade for a ‘special adviser’ role on a new innovative product. It has been fun strutting my nutty self around helping colleagues and looking down cleavages at the same time (men can multitask of course) with no time-frames and schedules to adhere to. 

But of course when Rasta makes a progressive move wicked men (and women) are red-eyed and I have had to endure the scornful stares and bitching from some who maybe thought they were better suited for the role. Rasta is love though so I tried to execute the duties diligently to all and sundry given the basic Rasta tenet of ‘all are equal in the eyes of His Majesty.’ It’s all done now so back to my boring routine but in all things, thanks and praise to Providence is a must.

Rastafari Bless!

 

I Love This Country

Whenever I say I love my country, most folks automatically assume I’m being sarcastic. But trust me that’s not the case. Ok, in most instances. I do love this country. I love the national mix of humanity, the cultures, the linguistics and all that including the stereotypes. We are one cool and truly blessed country. Before you exclaim hallelujah, that doesn’t mean we are the second best thing after Adam’s garden.  We got issues that feel like a stake right through the heart.

A few years ago we had a botched up election and we butchered each other like the primitive buffoons that our politicians make us to be. Of course if you’re reading this I didn’t get the chance to butcher you and neither did you get to have a go at my throat. But in a way or another, seeing the country in smoke sure touched our rawest nerves. Children burning in church, reprisal attacks equally gruesome on completely innocent people, property destroyed and all that shit almost ground this country to a halt. The fuckery made me cry. You cried. We all cried.

A few months to the next elections, we are repeating the same shit that led to the bloodbath in 2007-08.  Politicians are making inflammatory remarks and impunity seems to be at an all-time high. And the opinions polls are already telling us that it is either this one thief, or that other one. So the gullible voters that we are, we expect who the mass media tells us will win to win and if s/he doesn’t, we are gonna raise hell. Before I get started on these pollsters and their media, I really would love to know who pays the piper to have the tunes they churn out played.

Not to forget we now have even more channels to propagate our primitiveness as more and more people embrace the social media. When Kenyans are not tweefing, they are on some shitty trending topic or busy stereotyping people from other regions or even making incendiary comments in the name of ‘it’s never too serious.’ In 2007-08 we might say we never knew what hit us till it was too late, but this time round we have the blame squarely on our collective shoulders as a nation. Some shit about once bitten…

iDread here can only hope that the great mercies of His Imperial Majesty will be with us and sense will prevail and we’ll avoid the mistakes of the past. Reason; because I LOVE MY COUNTRY!!

Rastafari Bless!

The Bitter Dread

One of those days the dread feels bitter with the world. Absolutely psyche-less! Maybe has to do with the sheer volume of the idiocy talent pool that we have in this country. That said anyway, Jah forbid that I be judge upon fellow Idren as I’m only speaking my mind. 

 

I’m always irked by the pompous people who think because they know a thing or two about a particular mundane subject that makes them an authority on the same. They will ram it down your throat on social forums and the least attempt on engagement by someone more knowledgeable degenerates into an ugly ‘tweef.’

 Then we have the plastic people we have around with borrowed mannerisms and all manner of ‘isms’ that are detestable to a dread. Sunday Christians and Ramadan Muslims that are pious on ‘religious’ days but all over spreading hate, crude jokes and malice on any other day. Realness is scarce I tell you. The same people will jump into any social fad bandwagon for fear or missing out. They will tell you they are listening to a particular radio show or watching something on TV just because that’s what every other ‘fool-osopher’ is ranting about on the Twitter timeline or Facebook wall. Your date with His Imperial Majesty draws nigh!

 I hope this bitterness does not get down to levels of people I see on social media that rant, curse and have an opinion on just about anything. I have this cheeky idea though of having a database of people’s numbers like one Alai guy then start throwing them around when I feel like….namba za masufferer lakini…

Rastafari Bless!

Wanjiku Impunity

Impunity is one of the most (mis)used words in Kenyan lingo. Interestingly, the word seems to be synonymous with governance and politics. But come to think of it. Kenyans at the lowest of levels have perfected this vice and are the first ones to throw it around whenever their millions are stolen by the leaders they (s)elected.

I’m not trying to hold forte for thieving politicians and learned crooks. I do not give a rat’s behind if the thief is ball-less like one professor or a poet who preaches ‘mbas’ politics. They all deserve a special place in Kamiti pre-1987 or whichever year it was the hangman’s services became redundant.

On a Wanjiku (sic) level, however, the impunity manifested in our day to day activities would shame the drug dealers, rapists, murderers and extortionists that fart and snooze all day in that inAugust house along Parliament Road.

What would you call this prevalent behavior where I send you 200 shillings by mistake via Mpesa and you withdraw then switch of your phone? Impunity par excellence! Or instances where motorists think they ALWAYS have a right of way over pedestrians even in designated crossings?

The common thuggery in our hoods is not by the ruling elite (ok, maybe they do indirectly through lack of policy and frameworks to create jobs and keep young people off streets) but by people who in essence are in the same social class. Beggars stealing and killing beggars a few rungs above them in the lower end of the social ladder. Just wish they did that elsewhere..

Walk in the streets and drop a coin or Jah forbid, your mobile phone, only the rarest of souls will pick it up and hand it to you.

And yes, in the social media (that fad that has created this delusional all-powerful behemoth called KOT) tribal, gender, sexual and other chauvinists abound. Very quick to point out ills in the wider society but pushing the same in social media disguised as jokes and other trends. One could go on and on…..

One thing about Kenyans is that they complain loudest when they are victims but will quietly look on and look the other way if it’s their neighbor in problems. You actually get the feeling there is a silent wish they were the ones in positions of power to have a feel of the famed cake…

I’m writing this on stolen time and resources which is impunity in itself so I rest

Rastafari Bless!

(C)

It's A New Year

After a long silence the Rastaman is back. It’s a brand new year and now that alla you are sober and broke and the only thing you can afford to pay now is attention, then pay it…to me! So 2011 is a one blood clot of a goner. And not too many pleasant memories to savour from that year so we let sleeping mongrels lie.

2012 is here and as one of my bredren told me the other day, ‘hii ni mwaka ya mapesa’ If the dread doesn’t make it this year, then it’s destined to be a hard life. But the again me nuh like to preempt His Imperial Majesty, so mi ah go take each day as it comes….

It’s an (s)election year so the blood clot politricks will take centre stage. Not that it matters much given ours is a land of politricking (s)election year or not. But this year we are of course going to take the madness a notch higher. Voter bribery, use of public resources and a plethora of other vices synonymous with our democracy will definitely take precedence over common sense. And of course we are going to vote the same buffoons back in….

And that obnoxious matter of the ICC will of course hang over our heads hideously like a Chinese dragon. And I don’t mean the International Cricket Council. The son of Jomo and Samoei will definitely have their day in Trandfilova’s court which is a good thing given that there is a possibility there will be less two Pigs in the dirty pool… whatever the outcome, my only prayer to H.I.M is that the confirmation of the charges will act as a deterrent to impunity when our leaders open their mouths.

My minutes at the warehouse where I earn my paycheck are winding up so I will leave it at that for today….

Rastafari Bless!