DAY 21st 
|
Arrived at some startling knowledge today that I
must confess in more ways than one has jogged my
brain.
 If you are 6 feet
and 3 inches tall and you walk through a doorway that is 6 feet tall,
you must in some way contort your frame such that you can
be accommodated in that aforementioned doorway. Failure to do this
will result in the final three inches of your forehead making heavy,
plastic and spectacular solid acquaintance with the
door frame and the net result will be you being treated to the view
of a new constellation of shooting stars and a magnificent
bump on your forehead.
If you leave home
with an umbrella it will be bone dry and as hot as
the Earl of Hell's armpit all day. You will also lose the
umbrella at some point on your itinerary.
If you leave home
without an umbrella you will lose it anyway and in
addition cats, dogs and other domestic pets will descend heavily upon
your person from the heavens. You will arrive home oozing water from
your pores and will require ironing (You, that is)
I also had the ill
fortune to be reduced to coming home in a vehicle that even the most
charitable would be unable to recommend to a loved one. This vehicle
in question was quite bereft of headlights and in
true Kenyan fashion, driver and conductor were making the best of
a bad situation -- driver drove and conductor very helpfully assisted
by pointing a torch in all the right directions. I kid you
not!
Barclays Bank of
Kenya is still being funny. 3 weeks and my ATM card is nowhere to
be seen! I object strongly to going all the way to my branch to pay
them handsome fees so that they can give me my money! |
| DAY 23rd
|
A cousin, so many times removed from the main family tree that
he just might be the cousin to the King of Siam in a distant branch
and another forest altogether, joins the festival of relatives omnipresent
at the Abode. (Am not kidding about the Omnipresent part either --
there are places in the Abode even the Good Lord is unable to be Omnipresent
because it is chock fool of some relative or the other!
Unblushingly and
unblinkingly the duty of entertaining cousin and making cousin feel
at home is shifted smartly onto my shoulders by the Matriarch. Never
mind that I am not strictly a part of the household.
Cousin objects to
almost everything. It is too hot. It is too dry. There is too much
sunlight. I am walking too fast. I am walking too slowly. I'm not
smiling. I'm not smiling nicely. I'm not talking. I'm not listening
(and cousin was right about that one too!)
When I return cousin
to the Abode vow never to have cousin until I realize that it is not
exactly in my power to control the production and assignment of cousins!
KenCell, my provider
of choice were about to lose a valued customer. Indeed they have excellent
coverage and superior line quality but their tariffs are ridiculous
and minute rather than second based. I tolerated their shortcomings
chiefly because most of the people I call are KenCell subscribers
themselves until I realized that it is ridiculous to pay those obscene
tariffs for quality alone! Value added services? I sent a series of
quite indignant mails to the powers that be and was giving up hope
when the Gods smiled! Now, not only can I send SMS for the princely
and bank breaking cost of 1 shilling bob, I can also tie my phone
to Denise, fire up Word and fax myself silly, or better still tie
it to a database engine and pipe data to another computer through
GSM. In addition I was given a boost in my credit that will see me
comfortably into 2002 without me lifting a finger towards my cheque
book!
Stayed up till
the wee hours of the morning putting finishing touches to both a project
that has been pending for quite some months now, thank you very much,
as well as polishing my knowledge of Dreamweaver. I know a good product
when I see one and this is it!
Telkom Kenya are
still not keeping me in touch worldwide! And calls to their emergency
repair hotline have been as futile as they have been repeated. The
same bored and boring sounding woman tells me she will look into it
and then the line relapses into silence! |
| DAY 25th
|
|
Not been the best of days I must confess! From the transportation
deciding that gear R is quite enough, thank you very much! This
necessitated an uncomfortable journey much closer to the armpit
of an Amazon who clearly felt that soap and cologne were poisonous
influences of the West on our society!
Everything I say
today seems to be taken in either the wrong context or not taken
at all! I tell you it is painful spending the day seated within
spitting distance with someone who wishes you were not seated within
spitting distance
Got myself rained
on and I for one don't see why cabbages and other assorted fruits
and vegetables find the experience of being rained on pleasant.
My boy Omosh will
not be forget this day in a hurry. Both he and I have never been
accented with the concept of being slapped into next week but after
today -- that gent is one up on me! What happened? Well, I went
to see him at about 6:00 in the evening and it turns out he was
on his way to see a good lady he was anxious to convert into his
significant other. He wanted someone to escort him and being the
chap I am, and added to the fact that I had nothing to do, I obliged.
The walk is uneventful but the subsequent events are anything but!
6:20: Arrive at the prospective beloved's house. The lady
in question is just arriving from the supermarket and spots the
two of us. She insists that we come in for a drink. I make excuses
to depart and these are firmly but pointedly ignored and my fate
is sealed when she grabs both our arms and ushers us into the house.
Neither Omosh nor I are pleased with this arrangement.
6:22: Fruit juice that tastes like no fruit I have ever eaten
is deposited on the table. Since the host is hovering around and
watching with eager eyes, the temptation to deposit the juice into
a nearby potted plant must be resisted. Close eyes and drink up
the concoction.
6:23: Rise to leave Omosh to his devices
6:24: My reason for leaving (I want to pass through a mutual
friend K whose family own a video library) is shot down by the intelligence
that K and her family are on Holiday in Coast.
6:25: My other reason for leaving (I have some stuff to do
at home) is found to be wanting
6:26: My final protest (It is dinner time at the Abode) is
found to be unconvincing as only zoo animals have their dinner while
normal humans are having their tea. My helpless glance at Omosh
treats me to a look of concentrated fury on his countenance
6:27: Find myself seated again and wistfully eyeing the door.
I realize that Omosh is my boy but right now I feel certain that
he wishes an errant bolt of lightning smites me where I sit.
6:28: The lady love begins talking, and it is a futile attempt
to stave her flood of eloquence. She had a lot to impart and was
eager to impart it. With an eye on the wall clock and the other
dividing its attention between lady love and the door wonder whether
in this humble home the minutes have 300 seconds apiece.
7:38: Receive the information that as a man I should not
be embarrassed to stand in line at the supermarket with my trolley
laden with products containing wings that will never see the light
of day of Wilson Airport coldly. Come to the conclusion that love
may be blind, but it certainly is not deaf
7:40: The fact that lady love is seated next to me on the
sofa while he is diagonally across the room may be responsible for
the tic I see developing in his right cheek.
8:00: Lady love receives the news that I must be departing
with spirited indigence and insists that I remain for supper. Lasagna
and meatballs. Unless that dish is made by me I hesitate greatly
to introducing that combination into my inner workings. Omosh by
now is swinging his foot with quite unnecessary vigor.
8:15: Lady love asks how I am doing and there is a resounding
crash as a vigorous swing of his foot sends a spider web of cracks
across the glass top of the coffee table. Lady love's interest of
how I am doing is replaced by an interest in how the table is doing
and almost immediately by what she is going to do to Omosh whose
face had a look of sheepish embarrassment.
Just what the hell does he think he is doing? Is he a child? No.
Has he lost his mind? No. Does he have a mind? No. Well, yes. But...
Does he know how much the table cost? No. Does he realize that he
will pay for the repairs? Yes, but.... What has gotten into him
that eyeing anyway?
It is at this point in time the adage that discretion is the better
part of valor and with skills I have spent close to 2 years perfecting
I was within range of the door when Omosh wanted to know why his
woman is gallivanting around with other men. The outraged gap and
the hand to the hip while the other rose to gesticulate sealed Omosh's
fate. His woman? HIS woman? Who? Her? Gallivanting? Omosh
rushed on blindly to his doom by deigning to answer. Yes, her. His
woman! What was he thinking entertaining other men while he was
under the same roof?
It was at that juncture that an arm was swung back, fingers pressed
together and Omosh was slapped heavily and accurately. At great
personal risk I rescued the brother and some minutes later we were
walking home (hungry) and I am telling Omosh that he has got to
be the stupidest brother on either side of the equator. This he
concurs. Omosh's roots are in the Lake Basin and his skin is a rich
shade of ebony but even under the street lights the finger marks
his lady love's fingers made were clearly visible.
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| DAY 22nd
|
The moment I arrive at the Pearly Gates and even before my passport
and visas to the hereafter are being processed, I shall inquire of
St. Peter why Policemen seem to have a powerful affinity for me! It
is rare for a week to pass without me coming across one or more of
those gentlemen! It is strange indeed that I never have the honour
of meeting policewomen! No, they are always tall, beefy gentlemen
all of whom have one thing in common -- an acute dislike for you,
the shape of your head, the way you walk, the sound your shoes make,
the colour of your shoes, where you live, the colour of your hair
-- nothing about you is to like! At least to the policemen that is!
Left work some minutes
after eight with Denise under my arm. And wipe that grin off your
face -- Denise is a mere notebook computer. That I have to get home
soon I do not need to be told. It is not interesting walking through
the dark with close to 300,000 bob under your arm.
The trip, as usual,
is quite uneventful. Phase one is a trip to town and I have the misfortune
to sit next to a feller who for some reason seemed to think that I
was clinging with devotion to every word he said. And he had a lot
to say. He had opinions about everything and anything. And he was
not ashamed to divulge them to me. I tell you no trip sitting next
to a chap bent on giving you an impromptu shower is anything but memorable!
Phase two is uneventful.
As a matter of fact sat next to a lovely lady with very nice cologne.
It quite eclipsed mine, that of the lady in front of me, that of the
lady beside her, the - ah - aroma of the gent to my left and the diesel
laden atmosphere of the matatu.
The fun and games
begin when I alight from the matatu. I descend, like I have done precisely
three times before, into the arms of five waiting policemen and their
pair of hounds. A torch snaps on and is pointed directly at my eyes.
And through the night a voice demands "Where are you coming from"
At this point, before
my brain can stop my mouth, my mouth had indignantly and spiritedly
said: "Are you blind? Are your hats on too tight? Have you been
inhaling fumes from confiscated Kumi Kumi? What sort
of a damn fool question is that? Did you not just see me alight from
the matatu?"
There is a brief
period of stunned silence and after listening keenly for a minute
the five of us (seven, counting the bored hounds) come to the realization
that that constant pounding noise is indeed my heartbeat.
Mentally picture
myself stepping barefoot into a cell with 30 gentlemen who are guest
of the state for reasons ranging from rape to drunken disorderliness
(I always wondered if there was drunk and orderly?) I picture myself
spending the night with this cream of society. I don't like my chances
at all, and from what my big mouth has just uttered, it is becoming
more and more of a distinct possibility.
A curt voice to
the side demands to see my ID. Not only do I show them my National
ID, I also show them my Health Card, Students Identity Card, Phone
Card, Doctor's Card, Business Card and Library Card, If I had a placard
I'd also have shown them that too.
The cards are inspected
with quite unnecessary thoroughness. A minute later all my property
is returned to me and I am waved away. The hounds look balefully at
me and I can see that they are of the opinion that it is a pretty
poor way to spend Friday night but there is little that I can do for
them! As for me I promised myself that I am going to spend at least
ONE Friday night at home! |
| DAY 24th
|
The Guardian angel assigned
to me must have been a character and a half while she was on earth
and clearly she wishes had led a better life so that she would not
have to earn her wings the hard way. (I have a feeling that the angel
is a 'she' because were it a 'he' my head would have been smacked
by now).
Yesterday morning
on my way to le office, a chap driving a large Land Rover and
speaking animatedly into a mobile phone almost introduced his Land
Rover 110 to the Peugeot I was gracing with my presence.
That very same afternoon
while cutting across town with some bosom buddies of mine I narrowly
escaped merging with the front fender of a white Land Rover Discovery
as I proceeded to cross a road without looking left, right and left
again. The driver had an impressive array of suitable vocabulary and
was clearly not afraid to use it. He stopped his car, leaned out expressed
himself most loudly and animatedly in quite colourful language without
repeating himself once. The winning smile that I save for such circumstances
did not win me a thing.
Not five minutes
later another saloon shot across our bows with a velocity that suggested
the driver had a wasp's nest in his trousers and was anxious to remove
it at first opportunity.
Visited a dear friend
of mine to celebrate her graduation (which is jumping the gun as that
ceremony is next week) and immediately bring out the La Femme Nikita
in the dear lady by mistakenly inquiring whether her different
look was to do with her new shoes whereas it turns out it was a new
hairdo... |
| DAY 26th
|
It would seem that a
friend of mine was involved in a car accident yesterday and unfortunately
passed away. The requiem mass is in two days time. We were not really
close as such but still - a friend is a friend and the least one can
do is go on to say good-bye!
Another friend of
mine seems to be in a depression of sorts and there is precious little
that I can do to remedy this state of affairs, despite my best efforts!
One can indeed only hope for the best!
Finally run some
of my friends to earth -- or rather they saw me on my way to partake
a very heavy and healthy breakfast and it is in this manner that I
came across them. Have not seen them in close to 4 months but being
gentlemen they are a very forgiving lot when it comes to you disappearing
without any good reason.
On my way home occasioned
to see a lady swing an umbrella with quite unnecessary vigour and
strike an innocent gent who was passing where gents are not supposed
to be hit. His resulting gymnastics and contortions as he tried to
stifle the natural reaction to grab his nether regions caused me to
enter a dilemma where a part of me sympathized with him while another
appreciated the comedy of the situation. The resulting laughter that
caused tears to roll down my cheeks was a direct result of the latter
winning.
My land line is still
refusing to connect me anywhere and this is now becoming annoying!
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| DAY 27th
|
Somebody's got it bad and it jolly well ain't Usher! An entire week
without seeing, talking to or writing to that member of the Right
family (Miss) is a bit much!
Made a strange
friend today -- a police Sergeant called Kiprono. Interesting chap
indeed and quite brilliant too. If I ever get arrested I know who
to ask for. As a wise man once said (his name escapes me) you can
never have enough contacts! I was waiting for a friend and had nothing
to do and he was waiting for crooks and had nothing to do.
There is this song
whose chorus goes something along the lines "... I bet you
think this song is about you...". Isn't it? I have heard
it so often the past weekend that now am positively sick of it. But
that's besides the point. |
| DAY 28th
|
Somebody's got it bad and it jolly well ain't Usher! An entire week
without seeing, talking to or writing to that member of the Right
family (Miss) is a bit much!
Made a strange
friend today -- a police Sergeant called Kiprono. Interesting chap
indeed and quite brilliant too. If I ever get arrested I know who
to ask for. As a wise man once said (his name escapes me) you can
never have enough contacts! I was waiting for a friend and had nothing
to do and he was waiting for crooks and had nothing to do.
There is this song
whose chorus goes something along the lines "... I bet you
think this song is about you...". Isn't it? I have heard
it so often the past weekend that now am positively sick of it. But
that's besides the point.
I say! Some of
us are simply lethal on the dance floor. I do not mean that as a compliment
but as a statement of fact. Some brothers seem to possess about seventeen
elbows and when a gent of this configuration attempts dance styles
that can quite apty be called 'Helicopter' the resulting mess has
to be seen to be believed! A chap attempted this and as a direct result
his immediate neightbour suffered a bloody nose, cracked glasses and
quite ruffled feathers that took a lot of soothing.
Then there was
this lady with the standard two elbows but legs and feet that seemed
to have joints everywhere that were on mutiny. Dancing anywhere near
her was an exercise in disaster evasion. The Marines and the Special
Air Service should loan that good lady for a day and she will make
a world difference to them! A chap was kicked smartly where chaps
are not supposed to be kicked and an innocent lady dancing by herself
got the air knocked out of her when Ludacris got to the chorus of
his Southern Hospitality. Myself nearly escaped decapitation
when Lenny Kravitz tried to "...getaway, fly away..." |
| DAY 29th
|
| Today is indeed a milestone!
I only went to communicate with HQ in the morning (I was late and
therefore was forced to stand as a Man of God with a lot to say said
it). The entire afternoon was spent in the recumbent position and
I prentended to work in the evening. Going out tonight is OUT OF THE
QUESTION! |
| DAY30th
|
| Feel like very many small
men in soccer boots are jumping around in my head. It does not feel
pleasant at all! |
|
BEHOLD YON JOURNAL OF THY THINKER!