Posts Tagged ‘Riddims’

Shit is Real

Posted: November 21, 2015 by ketihapa in Random, Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Sorry guys, i couldnt resist this one

They say water is life. I always knew it, but I didn’t think shit could get this serious without water. And I literally mean shit. Try waking up early for work, run to the nearest shop to buy breakfast (read 2 mandazi) which you intend to gobble up real quick with some hastily made strungi… Till you get back to the house and realize, oh God! There is no water. It’s six AM.

Your neighbors are a bunch of campus kids whom you can’t wake up to beg for water because they’re drunk. You know this because just before you dozed off last night they came back all rowdy and they had the idea crack a few bottles on the rooftop before they decided to let everyone else know how horrible their taste in music is… Riddims aren’t even played in Hell for Heaven’s sake… Wait, what?
Back to the point. You don’t really talk to your other neighbors. Then just as you spot the glass on the table that is half full of the water you drank last night, the horrible realization comes to you. You haven’t showered yet nor washed your face. And on top of that, there is something gravely disturbing your rectum that wants to come out. Shit!
Now you know you have a decision to make, leave a floater or hope it can hold on till you get to the office toilet, or make a quick dash to the bush behind the apartment before people wake up and blame it on the naughty kids in the plot…. Suddenly neither your breakfast nor your shower seems important anymore. Even the idea you had of carrying your soap dish and towel to work and getting a quick bath on the sink in the washroom vanishes….


Being Kenyan

Posted: November 2, 2015 by ketihapa in Kenya
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Being Kenyan, who can complain?

“Tao ngapi?”


“Niko na mbao!”

“Hiyo mbao yako peleka choo ya kanjo labda utaendesha!”

“Ok, mbao ndio pesa loose nilikuwa nayo…”

“Huna pesa ndogo?”

You proceed to fold up the Ksh 1000 note into four…

“Haha! Kijana uko funny! Dere shukisha huyu hapo mbele!”


I have come to accept that being Kenyan is no longer about citizenship. And chances are, you would never trade being Kenyan for anything; not for a second. I have come to realize being Kenyan gives you an identity- a sense of being; a sense of purpose. It gives you the chance to be legally screwed up. Being Kenyan allows you to fuck up, get taken to court- perhaps even the ICC and still get away with it- trust me, my president has set an exceptional example. We can even ignore court orders. It allows you to set up a church and go about deflowering women because God told you to. And the said women will appreciate it. Hell, the news will find it funny and you will feature on headlines; especially if the said women paid you Ksh 310 to get deflowered. I foresee being Kenyan being a movement.

Case 1: Police

Being Kenyan affords you the right to walk in Nairobi. But also affords you the right to be stopped by armed policemen (who or may not be actual policemen) and being told you have to produce a receipt for the bag you are carrying- they won’t bother to check whether you’re carrying weapons. But even if you are, all you will need is a receipt. But that has to be accompanied by an ETR receipt intended for KRA. But let us assume you won’t have either of those; you will be forced to produce tea- chai, rather- and imagine being Luhya! We all know Luhya people would rather go to jail than give up chai. You will be faced with a host of atrocities against the country though. Staring at government buildings suspiciously, idling with the intention of bombing a government statue, impersonating a government officer, spitting harmful substances on a public pavement, disturbing the public with smelly sweat, soliciting for sex from unwilling members of the public… The list is endless. And so are the possible charges you will be charged with.

Case 2: Elections

Being Kenyan means you can basically vie for a leadership spot. And it doesn’t matter whether you lose; You will be the man. You will be accorded the title mheshimiwa. Even if ants will not stop for you when you come across them on the road- actually, you will stop and wait for them to pass- especially if you will be high on weed like most of our elected leaders. You will be a millionaire in six months after the said elections. And you will despise Tanzanian elections for being transparent. In the six months, you will instigate a construction worth Ksh 200 Million, even though the said building will have half a wall. You will also convince the people who voted you in that a wheel barrow is worth Ksh 109,000, even though the teacher with whom you trust your child will be paid Ksh peanuts. And you will somehow convince the people that voted you in, who have lost confidence in you already, that the devil told you to lie to them. You will invoke the spirit; even though your liver will have suffered more from the spirits than your citizens.

Case 3: Music

As a Kenyan, you will be entitled to hours of bad music; riddims they call it. You will dance and perhaps do bend overs if you’re lucky- to music you don’t even understand, whose lyrics probably mean you are an idiot. But you will love it. You will laugh at people that don’t listen to riddims. And for those that will find riddims distasteful, they will tune into Matatu FM each morning to report how they cannot get laid to someone who probably doesn’t even like women in the first place. You will ignore good music; people who try to come up with good music like Eric Wainanina and Elani will be ignored- unless they come up with a sex video like Sauti Sol. And every major TV or Radio station will endorse it. Your life will be reduced to music the lines of “Girl With The Biggest Behind’ or ‘Una jump, una ruka… shida zina shuka…”

Case 4: Food

Being Kenyan means you will get to taste the best variety of food. You will get to taste boiled animal intestines that you will later come to call mutura. You will do the math in your head and decide that mutura is worth more than airtime – which at this time is imperative we refer to as kadi za kujikunakuna as the Tanzanians say- to call the butcher and tell him to reserve some steak for you. And woe unto you if you end up marrying a Kikuyu woman; you will have pizza full of soup and potatoes.  And if boiled miraa if you’re Meru. Or worse, nothing if you’re from Kitui.

I just can’t understand why anyone would hate being Kenyan. We rock!!!!!

That Girl…. 🙂

Recently, my girl and I have been fighting. (Not physically, we are both tiny and physically incapable of doing any real damage to each other, never mind that we are both from Nyeri.) You see, Ivy, that is her name, is independent and very lovable. She always has been. She is, in my opinion, the epitome of a goddess. She is tall, slim (her arms look smaller than any Kisii man’s plate of ugali.) and she has this awesome smile that could make you fall in love with her in an instant. Then there is the way she laughs you could swear her laugh will be on the playlist in Heaven. She is a lightskin but she can make you an awesome stew of beef (don’t trust her sausages tho) while at the same time making you question what you ever did to God to deserve her. They say that the easiest and shortest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but I could swear Ivy is the shortest way to my heart. Sorry ladies.

Anyway, the whole reason we have been fighting is because she got a job in Uganda, Kampala to be precise, and God knows we were unprepared for it- almost like a scary pregnancy. She got a job at one of the most awesome places I can think of and I don’t think I need to mention that her job is more awesome than the boob job the Kardashian family invested in- Kanye West will understand what I mean. She gets to meet all these great people, and her boss pays her to convince them that they are awesome people. I know, right? Her boss basically pays her to have fun and get free drinks. I envy her all day (I know you do too) but as an engineer, naah. My job is better. At least I get to meet old people and hope I will age more graciously.

So, you can imagine my dilemma when she tried to convince me to ignore my(awesome) job and travel to Uganda. In short, a perfect Texas (or Mexican, if you watch Citizen TV) standoff.

In my mind, I knew Uganda was horrible. All 3 people-including ivy- that can speak English can attest to that. First, they call their matatus taxis, and their banks make you feel like a millionaire when in essence you are a hundred-nare back here in Kenya. They make you have Matoke with everything except sex (thank God) and their bodaboda drivers insist you use a helmet. Plus they could turn you into an alcoholic in a few hours. Tusker is Ksh. 83 for crying out loud.

Eventually tho, she won. And I had to take a 13 hour bus to Kampala. I have to tell you at this point that if you are the sort of person that has to pee every 30 minutes, Kampala is not for you. And the bus does NOT have a toilet on board.And you cannot make the driver stop because he is NOT your girlfriend. Let us just say that I am not a bus person. Anyway, I did get to Kampala ok eventually. It was like nothing I had imagined. (The accent is still a load of nonsense, and apparently we have a Kenyan accent, but…) and then their bands are so epic, they can make dancehall music (or riddims if you are from Kayole) sound heavenly. The women are so polite and respectful; you ask yourself why you were born Kenyan. And their policemen actually shake your hand without expecting Ksh. 50 from you.

I should just say that I had enough fun for years thanks to Michelle and Phill. Ivy will want a mention too so I should tell her thank you at this point.


Now, fast forward to yesterday, when I left Uganda. The journey was okay up and until we got to Busia and crossed over to the Kenyan side. Bribes for luggage. Luggage that was so tiny I felt I could have sneaked it in my underwear- NOT condoms. An hour later, the price went up from 3000 to 5000, simply because it got very sunny and someone needed an appeasement bottle of alcohol. And the girl being taken advantage of was from Denmark hence could not really understand Kiswahili. So we refused to let her pay and threatened to get off the bus if they made her pay and to carry the corrupt official from KRA to the police station.

Eventually, I think he realized had more to lose than actually losing the 5000. So we proceeded on our way towards Nairobi. We had won. But it did make me question why Kenyans tolerate corruption when it was pretty obvious nobody liked it. I still can’t understand. May be you people can help me understand.