Posts Tagged ‘Tanzania’

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(Photo courtesy of flckr)

Dear Mr President,

I hope you’re finally back in Kenya and that you are faring on okay. I saw a recent photo of you making out with your wife (that I am really jealous of) but I am not sure if it was all a match in the political game. I hope you will not be hangovered as you read this, but if you are, please feel free to visit Kerugoya where they still sell second generation alcohol. That tab will be fully mine, and will be fully paid as soon as you fire all corrupt individuals so I can get my Youth Fund.

When you get to Kerugoya, find a boda boda operator called Kinyua. He was once an employee of your government but some ass of a senior appointment your government made stole money and the institution he worked for had to downsize. Thankfully he had saved up quite a bit so he bought a motorbike that is helping him feed his family. He doesn’t have any ill feelings towards you, I should add. He, like me, are loyal citizen of this wonderful country called Kenya.

Anyway, back to Kinyua. Tell him to drop you off at a pub called Masafara Bar; i like the name… Reminds me I am still Kenyan. However, on your way you might need to pay Kinyua in advance for fuel. You see, Kinyua’s eldest son is in High School but his principal directed the parents pay an extra 5700 for toilets for the teachers and a bus, which is more than Matian’gi directed school heads to ask for. I suspect he might be broke at the moment and that his landlord added an extra 500 because he paid his rent a day after the deadline, so don’t mind paying for fuel, please.

When you get to Masafara Bar, find a lady called Lilian. She is lightskinned but is modest; not like these other hoes Uganda is currently buying for her citizens. She is lively and young – perhaps too young. She had to drop out of college to find work in order to support her ailing mother who has cancer. But since the country has very limited radiotherapy machines, she has to bribe someone at KNH just to get her mother treated. But she is doing well and although it is against her morals, she still pays the bribe so her dear mother won’t die.

When you’re finally seated, ask her to give you any alcohol your heart may desire, some lemon (she may take a bit to find lemons because lemons are really expensive thanks to the new tax rates. Cigarettes too) and some water or soda. Any soda. Personally I would recommend the water because apparently KEBS put an expiry date on it despite the fact that it has been running in oceans, lakes etc for millenniums.

When you get your drink, first pray that no woman who has been forced to sell her body for money because she graduated and couldn’t find work will prey on you. Or worse, put any pills in your drink. But just to be sure, always have your drink in your hand at all times.

Thereafter, I want you to ask yourself where this country is going. Do we need Jesus, or a ship, or a plane to get us developed? Do we need Judas to come tell our corrupt leaders that corruption ends in disaster? Do we need Pharaoh to tell them that sooner or later, the oppressed will find a way to be free? Do we need paediatricians to tell our politicians that like diapers, they need to be changed often to ensure babies are okay? Or do we need you to be like Magufuli and dare to change this country?

That said, I must mention that I am a loyal citizen of Kenya. In fact, I have fought many wars for this country. Against Al Shabaab, CNN, Nigeria, Tanzania, South Africa, ISIS, AIDS, Illicit Alcohol, among others, on Twitter. When will all my (our) efforts at making this country a better place come to fruition?

Be about something Mr. President.

Yours faithfully,

Keti Hapa.

Being Kenyan

Posted: November 2, 2015 by ketihapa in Kenya
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Being Kenyan, who can complain?

“Tao ngapi?”

“Salasa!”

“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!!!!!