Posts Tagged ‘Money’

Who says you have to read to pass an exam?

Another week, more drama. Kenya never ceases to amaze me. The mouthy-leggy woman finally launched her much awaited book. I mean the Miguu na Miguu na Pang’ang’a fellow, who barely a week later, has fled the country in search of God knows what. Reports coming claim though that he left for Canada, the only country whose national symbol is a weed leaf disguised as a red clover, although personally, I’d rather he fled to Poland; at least there I am sure this woman would find Poles because to be very honest, the only career I see left for her is to be a pole dancer. Unfortunately, I am not too sure her badly inflated ego would let her- plus she’d have to lose the horrible wardrobe she adores so much.

Seriously though, I would say it wasn’t a bad move, considering people in his hometown already tried to burn down his house and bury his empty coffin. The only problem, however, is that the people he implicated in his book can barely read- the MPs. It is worldwide knowledge that about 4 in every 11 of our MPs never went to school. I fully sympathize with them; and with the pressure mounting on them to go back to school, I think it is high time someone taught them the basics about how to pass exams in Kenya. I have therefore come up with a simple, yet precise guide on how to go about it hassle free.

I wouldn’t want to imagine the scenario where an MP, the candidate (read Mike Sonko) goes to an exam and when asked how to improve Black and White TVs the idiot responds with something like, “We should hire Peter Marangi to paint TV aerials with Dura Coat so as to make the TVs view in full colour.” Ok, that was a fail, but what if he really knew the answer to a question is 22 but didn’t know which 2 to start with? Sad, right? Yeah, it is. So first of all, you are going to need the following items: Kiwi and Shoe Brush, Mwakenya, Bell, Hair, any version of TeraCopy software (doesn’t have to be genuine), Alcohol and Money.

Ready? Here we go. I mentioned Kiwi and Shoe brush for one reason, David Rudisha once said, “Unafyong’arisha fyatu fyako sio fyatu pekee finafyong’ara.” What he meant was that you also get bright as you polish your shoes. And we all know what knowing you’re bright does to your confidence- it soars. In fact, look how well it worked out for the world athletic champion. So, you can go into that exam with full confidence that you are bright. However, please note that this is only applicable to Kiwi; not Lude and definitely not the black sweat of a Sudanese fellow.

Next up, you need the Mwakenya. If you’ve been through the Kenyan education system, you will bear me witness that as the rules get tougher, better ways of breaking them undetected emerge. That’s right; paper mwakenyas, or mwaks from now hence forth, are too mainstream. Anything else can be used as a mwaks; slippers, walls, the ceiling, the floor, your arms, the back of the head of person seated in front of you a.k.a. kisogo, anything really. Plus you MPs have money. Use it; get specially designed biros, socks and handkerchiefs with notes inscribed on them. Only two things though, mwaks does not apply if you’re going for a HIV test. Also, do not get caught.

Next you will need the bell. My friend, have you ever tried to remember something so hard but all you come up with is no more than the word ‘something’? No? Kenyan exams will do that to you. And this is where the bell comes in really handy. Simply follow these simple steps: one, pick up bell; two, bang the hell out of it against your head. I bet now your head should ring a bell, literary, right? For great results, a receding hairline is recommended, but nothing too extreme like Kibaki’s.

As afore mentioned, you need hair. The Swahili really had it right when they said “Akili ni nywele.” All sorts of hair are particularly useful in an exam and have their own different functions. Weaves for instance have the potential to be good mwaks if not hide other mwaks while braids are leakage and your beards should be quite adequate past papers. A wig on the other hand is a NO-NO (Esther Murugi take note). If it, God forbid, fall offs, you’re screwed and what’s more, you’ll look like a scare crow and end up scaring away any potential would-be marks in your exam.

Having done all that, now all you need is your counterfeit copy of TeraCopy software. Ok, maybe I over estimated you. I shouldn’t have expected you to know how to use computers when you don’t even know what parties you’re in. But in the event that you do somehow do know, TeraCopy is the ideal solution for you. TeraCopy is great software for all your copy-paste needs. You can use it to achieve quicker and more accurate results. Only a quick glance to your left or right is required and TeraCopy will do the rest; but a polite disclaimer, your eye-hand coordination should be excellent. Also, if the person to your left or right is Eugene Wamalwa, avoid that direction as there will be hardly any air there to breathe.

Now, when all else has failed, now you can use the Alcohol. Take out your bottle of Vodka and drink up; nobody said you cannot have alcohol in an exam room. You should drink in rapid, moderate mouthfuls and voila, now you are justified to blame your failure on the Alcohol and not your dumb brain. Many have done it, so you can follow suit, but if you’re the type that will chicken out, I have an alternative solution. Alcohol is brewed as a result of the action of yeast on starch. You can therefore consume about a kilo of starch and about two table spoonfuls- no more- of yeast, about an hour before the exam. The alcohol formed in your stomach should be adequate.

Finally, the money. As a proud member of the Kikuyu community, I believe I have earned the right to demand payment for successfully helping you dimwits pass your exams and graduate from whatever the hell you’re graduating from. Oh, and by the way, for an extra token of appreciation (read money), I suggest you also have a bulb with you. You never know when you’re going to need a light-bulb moment. So, my cheque please? When can I come to wait outside your office for 6 hours to collect it Mr. Mheshimiwa?

Leornado Dicaprio in the world he created in the 2010 sci-fi film Inception

“It all over, Chelsea are the new European Champions!”

That statement was what got me to church on Sunday. Chelsea had the last laugh. And oh my, was it sweet. I am not a Chelsea fan, but I had a lot banking on that game. For a start, Ksh. 3850 on bets was on the line. Yes, it was that serious; to me, the unexpected is expected, because I have come to expect the unexpected in football. And I had promised God that should the wife grabbers win the match, the very first thing I’d do on Sunday was to go to church. Ok, not really, I first had to sleep as the match ended way after Sunday started, then I had to wake up, shower, take breakfast and walk to church. It was the very first time I kept a promise to God.

I know, it sounds immoral; the fact that I needed financial motivation to go the House of God. It isn’t. We all have our reasons why we go to church; many to find potential spouses that are ‘born again.’ Or as a Luhya would say, “Porn Again”; God loves porn again people after all. Others go to church because they bought expensive new heels that only they can afford and do not want to miss a golden opportunity to show them off to multitudes of people that have gathered gladly for the show. Very few, I repeat, very few people, go to church to pray. Finally, there are the few like me, who believe God is the benefactor of everything including life and money.

So I found myself tagging alongside my mum, who frankly, was astounded that I was even awake at 9.00 am, leave alone accompanying her to church. Needless to say, we parted ways the moment we entered that gate- somehow I have never understood why churches have doors and gates, you’d think the House of God would be the most secure place on earth. I headed over to the corner, as far away from the watchful, painfully reproachful eye of my mother, just in case the need to post a tweet on twitter should arise. And it did.

The pastor started off the sermon with “I am just from Nigeria in case you are wondering why I am dressed like I am.” In my head it sounded something like “I have been to Nigeria. See my heels and my elegant skirt, you’re damn right they are not from your pathetic country so shut the hell up and listen to me.” I was willing to overlook the fact that I had just been stepped on by a woman I had never seen before, except she proceeded, “and I am here to cast out demons.”

Much to my bewilderment, people were applauding. Some people, the show offs, took this opportunity to throw money on her feet. I am not saying I thought it was pointless, I found it amusing actually as it looked similar to the same fashion the Catholic Church lost its money fighting lawsuits they couldn’t win; lawsuits of child molestation. Pointless on the other hand is why they sterilize needles for lethal injections.

All religion-related activity in my brain ceased. For the first time, I noticed the people I seated next to; I was more confused than an infant in a topless bar. I found myself looking around just in case I spotted a demon, or worse, Lucifer seated like a boss at one corner, laughing quietly, scheming his next move. Nothing. I looked back at her in frustration, willing every nerve in body to stop the mutiny that was going on in my head and which was about to conquer my mouth next. I took out my phone to prevent myself from shouting back,

“Excuse me little miss sunshine from Nigeria, I have looked around and I can see no demons. Please be kind enough to point them out for me.”

Instead, I tweeted my thoughts.

Not that I don’t believe demons exist; like the suicidal blonde that killed her twin sister by mistake, it is stupid to believe that God exists when you don’t believe there is a Devil. But the thing is all the demons I have come across are people. People with troubled minds who look to the church as validation that they are not insane; that they are in fact possessed.

I have a hard time trying to convince myself that the man who bombed a church some time back in Ngara was possessed. Or that the guy that raped a 6 year old girl was in cahoots with the devil. Or worse, that that the man who first his wife to death, then set his house ablaze so he and his entire family would burn to death, including the two young girls that were fast asleep in their bedroom, was led to do it by the little red devil perched on his shoulder.

I believe that there is a God and there is a Devil and likewise, that there is good and there is evil; two things each man must decide which to be. Like two sides of a coin, you cannot be both at the same time, but you can have both. It all boils down to which face is up but unlike the coin that needs to be tossed and cannot choose for itself, everyman has it in him to pick one and fight the other. Then there is the third side of the coin that nobody ever considers significant.

If you’ve watched the movie The Adjustment Bureau then you know how much power mere chance has in reality; chance is responsible for lots of things. Hitler got into the army by chance; but it was the decisions he made there after that would later prove the platform for his misguided politics and the cause of a six year war that would leave in its wake 60 million people dead including him.

My point being, we are our own worst enemies; we create the world we live in and likewise the demons that haunt us as portrayed in the thriller, Inception. A few misguided words of advice here and there, a few moments of weakness, a few moments of rage, hate and jealous glances; those are the downfalls of man. And the question is what type of person are you and what side of the coin are you on? Are you the good guy, the bad guy or do you leave it all to chance before you can decide. As far as I am concerned, everybody seems normal until you get to know them

***FACT: If you take the first letters of the first names of the main characters of Inception, you get the word DREAMS; Dom, Robert, Eames, Arthur, Mallorie, and Saito.***