Posts Tagged ‘Turkana’

Teachers took it to the streets this week demanding for better pay.

My mother recently dropped a bombshell on me that she’s expectant with her fourth child and she hoped that this time, she’d bear a daughter. I understand why my mother hopes it will be a daughter this time round. Well, my brothers and I weren’t always the best behaved kids in the neighborhood, especially since I was the default leader of the pack by virtue of me being a first born. I remember how one day I wanted peanuts, but I had absolutely no money on me. So, I decided to do a little extortion on mama mboga, whose stall was just outside the balcony of our third floor flat. I know my charm wasn’t fully developed back then, but I still don’t remember how or why she denied me peanuts. All I remember is that instead of sulking, I simply climbed back to our balcony and incited my brother that we needed to teach her a valuable lesson in sharing. We peed all over her stall. Did I mention the beating that followed by the way?

But I didn’t intend this piece to be about motherhood. That memory made me realize that my actions were genuinely normal and natural. Think about it, isn’t that what teachers and doctors are doing, albeit more formal? An industrial strike, generally, is a protest when you don’t get what you want or think you deserve, right? The only difference this time round is that I actually support them. And so do MPs, who are keen to appear righteous after investing tax payers’ money on a grand renovation of parliament, complete with Citroen seats that you only get to see in the VIP stands of the Etihad Stadium. They all accept that the government needs to fulfill the pay increase promised to the teachers back in 1999. Yeah, you heard right. 13 years ago.

Though I do not support the public display of hooliganism that was when teachers decided to take it upon themselves to strip head teachers on National TV, in all fairness to the teachers, living in Kenya is getting really hard; the cost of living is going up. But as I have said before somewhere on this blog, life still remains very popular. Ask the bartender who made the mistake of asking a lady why she looked depressed and regretted it three hours later. Hell, even the government couldn’t afford to give our athletes at the Paralympics armed escorts for their safety. No pun intended by the way.

And it isn’t just the teachers or the doctors. Hookers too are having it rough and have now resorted to Facebook and other social networking sites to solicit for sex. I fully expect thieves to follow suit with this trend. Back to the hookers, their goals, as evidenced in the Facebook page ‘Campus Divas for Rich Men’, are clear; if you have no money, beat it. Ok, don’t pretend you’re surprised we’re paying universities to get our kids’ virginities broken. Cum-pus. Get it? That aside; dating is proving to be a very expensive affair. In fact, to get hot dates nowadays you need to follow these steps: one, buy or pluck dates from a tree. Two, fry dates or put dates into a microwave for two minutes. Ta-da!!

Anyhow, childbearing is worse. Kenya isn’t like China where they have factories for everything including children. Here everything is different. You have to first and foremost get fooled by a woman into getting her pregnant. Then she has to surprise you that she’s pregnant and that you’re bound by law to take care of her and her baby. That includes medication. But as things are, who is going to afford a doctor when it’s one doctor’s photo per patient? Mauvimivu yakizidi utamwona daktari yupi? Where are you even going to get the money to pay the newly-introduced tax on rent, leave alone the rent itself?

Ever wondered why bakers, including those who make donuts never decide they are tired of the HOLE thing and quit their jobs? I’ll tell you why. Frankly speaking, bakers are the only people not affected during these tough times. Bakers never go broke; they just keep making lots of dough. Plus they earn the majority of their income by noon – they make most of their dough at yeast by a leaven o’clock. Take my advice, if you want to survive, become a chef or a baker, although I should warn you in advance that you will have to be grilled before you get the job. And wipe that shocked look on your face, I didn’t mean literally you dumbass.

The saddest part about it is that I now have to give up my dream. It is common knowledge that since the discovery of oil in Turkana I have a dream of investing in the area. I thought I’d hit jackpot when a friend and I came up with the genius idea of investing in toilets in Turkana. Sadly, now, as things are, it is cheaper to watch a movie about food and reminisce about its taste and smell than to actually buy food. Movies are Ksh. 50 after all. I know I won’t be the only one that’s had a cup of strungi with a vivid imagination of mandazi; but hey, maybe you’re the type that lives solely on the Fruits of the Holy Spirit. Anyway, even people in Turkana did have food, who’s going to afford toilet paper?

I have come to the conclusion that we will be okay- at least I know I’ll be okay; even if it means resorting to leaves for toilet paper, twigs for toothbrushes and smoke signals for communication. And I’ll date alright. Thank God my History teacher taught me all about the various methods of dating. Contrary to popular belief, Fission Track Dating, and not Carbon Dating, is the best dating method as observed by scientists.

Have a great weekend people and may the teachers get paid.

Ngamia 1 well in Turkana, Kenya, where British company Tullow struck oil

Kids, this is the crazy story of how I met your mother. The year is 2014. The place is in a night club known as Pavements in Westlands, Nairobi.*cue for audience to laugh* I am really drunk- and I think high- and there is this chic giving me weird looks, like a chicken that wants to grow horns; oh wait, I think she’s horny. I know a woman is horny when I start seeing cute little horns growing on her head. Anyway, she is and really drunk and that is my cue to take advantage of her. End of story. Okay, well no. I actually have a condom on. *audience laughs again* Later on I will get to the part where I was paid by the government to have kids about eight seasons or so from now. Hah! Jokes.

This is the sad story of how an archaeologist in the year 2030 decides to excavate an unnamed location in Kenya and he is digging away unmercilessly when he strikes gold. He has come across a cute pile of bones that he will later on discover in shock belonged to Mike Sonko. You see, there is no space for a brain in the skull he has found. Almost as shocking as the skull he found a little while earlier on belonging to Eugene Wamalwa that had three nostrils instead of two. He will care less about the shocking find because as a bonus, he will have found the greatest oil reserve the world ever has seen. He will later on be declared a national hero by the then ruling Army General, who toppled the government a few years back and has since established himself as the new Furor.

Okay, where exactly I am going with this I have no idea either, but that was how I always hoped oil would be discovered in Kenya. Shock on me. Kenya finally struck black gold. I have been dying to make a joke on our oil but no, it would be too crude. You see, I’m neither a pessimist nor am I an optimist. I am like the guy who found the glass half full and instead of whining about how half full or half empty it was, he simply emptied it into a smaller glass and it was full. Two sides of the same coin. I am actually thrilled we have oil, but when I think critically about it, all it means is that enough people finally died and decomposed enough to form oil. Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you had no idea oil is nature’s way of recycling the carbon in our bodies. Think about it, it’s why Arab countries – where so many people died in various wars throughout the centuries – have so much oil.

Now, I know it seems like I am already biased towards our oil reserve but being realistic is also important. I am skeptical that this find will actually be of any use to the people of Turkana. Well, I could spend hours trying to convince people that it is Karma’s way of getting back at Turkana for standing by as the rest of Kenya was colonized but again, no. I’ll, lay down the facts. When Richard Leakey came to Kenya, he said, “It is virtually impossible to control Northern Kenya, which is populated chiefly by migrant nomads.” I maintain that he couldn’t have been more wrong. Fast forward to the year 2012; Kenya discovers there is oil in Northern Kenya. Suddenly there is a mad rush for this arid, sparsely populated area. Coincidence?

I am not saying they won’t get to benefit from the oil directly; what I’m saying is that the game is rigged. It’s called an oil rig for some reason. Who do you think gets to reap the fruits of our new found oil; the fat cats of this country or the people of Turkana? In a way, it’s like the colonization they never really got to enjoy because gradually, they will be pushed out of their land by the fat cats only this time instead of bibles, they might receive some money- quite unlike how white people tricked the rest of us. When they came they had bibles, we had the land. Then they taught us how to pray with our eyes closed and when we did open our eyes, they had the land and we had the bibles. What these poor people will get in truth will be hard menial jobs on these oil fields. Not the worst of jobs, but I’d rather be a cow. Cows have moo-oo-oovies and all miners have is a boring job. Got it, no? Moving on…

So now I have a decision to make; quit school and become a fat cat or go on with school and end up working for one of those fat cats. I once said I wanted to be somebody and only now have I become specific – the decision is clear in my mind. First thing I’ll do is to visit Njoroge and Sons Co. in River Road and obtain a degree that is complete with a university seal and genuine signatures. They can do it, trust me. Then, I will take a loan and become a politician to steal some more money from public coffers and when I have stolen enough, I will look for a willing accomplice, preferably a Kikuyu like me. Together, we will start a company known as Mwangi and ‘somebody’ Company. And no, we will not use vegetables to make vegetable oil or use babies to make baby oil or worse, become miners; we will head over to Turkana and invest in some poor nomad’s land that we will have stolen.

You see like the kid that was asked by a pastor what eats grass, goes moo and gives us milk and he answered, “I suppose the answer is Jesus but it sounds like a cow to me” I know oil is supposed to be the answer, but you got to think outside the box. The oil is only there to facilitate development of Turkana and that is where the money is going to be. I am going to be one rich bastard, all thanks to women who did not use their heads, literally, which caused the population explosion in our country that finally brought us oil. To those same women, DIAPERS is REPAID backwards without ‘s’… Think about it… Also, oil money doesn’t buy everything. Manchester City please take note.