Yours, Olang'

Capn's Log: Tribute to Wangari Maathai- Mother, Sister, Leader, Heroine, Woman

26th September 2011

The following is as appears on the OneFM website, www.1fm.co.ke

*-*-*

She made the news in the most unusual of fashions over the last few decades: Her passionate protests against the administration at the time as she choked on teargas; her sustained championing of women’s rights as her eyes teared up from the clouds of the very same teargas; and indeed, the work that she is best known for to date – giving the environment a voice to speak to the world.

“Next time you go past Uhuru Park or Karura Forest, stop to say thank you to Wangari Maathai. They are a legacy to courage.” – Sunny Bindra

She made international headlines again in 2004 when a committee in Norway saw her persistent pushes and saw it fit to ensure that the world takes note of this woman’s work, thus awarding her the Nobel Peace Prize.

This morning, Wangari Maathai again made headlines. The inescapable had happened: Prof. Maathai had passed on.

“Oh beautiful Wangari Maathai has died. I travelled to Gleneagles with her in 2005 - best helicopter ride of all time. What a hero she was.” – Emma Freud (Twitter)

Yet I still remain somewhat shaken by the news of her passing. She is “Wangari Maathai”. A legend. The legend I grew up knowing of, hearing of. The kind of legend we’d write about in primary school compositions in Std. 4 in narratives titled: “My role model”. 

Legends don’t cease to exist, which is why I’m still shaken by the news of her passing.

“Wangari Maathai” was the name I’d only hope to share a newspaper caption with. The larger-than-life character I’d get to see only on the news and think to myself, the young chap that I was: “What sane person does this to themselves time after time?” 

Years later, with a new understanding of the world, I now understand: It’s the sort of sane person that believes in what they are fighting for. The sort of sane person that refuses to bow down – even breaking what culture considers taboo at the time. 

The sort of sane person that thinks: “If taboo needs to be broken for the right thing to be done, so be it.”

“I spent the afternoon at Uhuru Park yesterday. I watched my kids play with many other kids. Wangari Maathai’s impact will live on.” - @Buggz79 (Twitter)

At 71, she probably lived a full life. Yet she indicated that she still had a lot to keep fighting for. The problems she sought to see an end to are nowhere near done – not by a long shot. It’s now left to us to decide what happens now. She started it, her legacy is still alive, and her legend is still one that has yet to be completed for the history books. 

Wangari Maathai the person may have moved on, but her work, her legacy and her legend are not even close to their sunset years.

“Woke up to the news that we lost a great family friend. Rest in peace Aunty Wangari. May your legacy live on.” – Jaya Awinja (Facebook)

Rest peacefully, Aunty Wangari. 

As for my wish to share a newspaper caption with Wangari Maathai, I guess this will have to do. Not quite what I pictured, but seeing how I lived to write about the legend, I guess this will have to do. 

"...no matter who or where we are, or what our capabilities. We are called to do the best we can!" - Wangari Maathai, “Unbowed”, April 2007.

*-*-*

Capn's Bonus: Dear Google, I'm still waiting for that Wangari Maathai doodle.

Meanwhile, here's Prof. Maathai on Al Jazeera's One on One with Riz Khan.

 

Capn's Log: Of Kalasha Awards - and why I didn't go.

24th September 2011

So I didn't go for the Kalasha Awards yesternight.

 

That's why.

What?

Capn's Log: Of books, hay and "Me I know".

21st September 2011

"Me I know."

I love people. Particularly when they are not bothering me. For example, at the StoryMoja Hay Festival.

Now what happened over the course of the past weekend is what everyone wrote home about. Rather, tweeted home about. Where "home" is a loose reference to all on our timelines unfortunate enough to bear with our rumbustious rants. And I feel no compulsion to write an article penning the very events as happened in the name of writing a review.

However.

I love us. I love people. I love Kenyans. But si you know that already?

Seated in a tent every couple of hours were folks gathered together, talking about story-telling and poetry and mates (of the same gender)... And all this made for thrilling entertainment.

For instance, a story-telling workshop. Group of about twenty adults, chairs arranged in a concave manner, the focus on this one fellow. The fellow moderating the workshop. A Caucasian fellow. Or, to put it in a less PC manner: A white man.

And this poor sunburnt chap is forced to endure 2 hours of his typical Kenyan audience turning the tables on him and taking over his session.

2 hours of listening to folks gather every expression they were ever taught in English class since primary school, lumping them together into one paragraph and yapping.

2 hours of "Me I know".

"I believe a story comes from the depths of one's persona, it must be from an experience they went through, seeing how experience is the best teacher; and it must be put in a manner such that the coherence of the story is not subdued by the relatability of a story - after all, why tell a story about hares to a group of tortoises? - and at the end of the day, it all boils down to the content of the story - it's not without reason that advertisers say content is king; a story without content is like a head without a body, like Humptey-Dumptey..."

Yes, in case you were wondering: That's how you came off.

"Me I know."

Replicate that in just a few of the other tents and workshops conducted at the good festival, and we have a party. Which by the way, was complete with all manner of food and drink - and salad for the health-conscious.

If anything, the entire Hay Festival was, in the most part, an extrapolated case of word salad.

What, si me I know what word salad is? Leave me.

Maybe me I'm being spiteful. Maybe me I'm just hating because I didn't know what was going on because me I hardly ever reads those deep book. Me I accept that I'm not as widely read as many project themselves to be - and me I freely admit it.

That's why me I made it free and open information that Story Moja was a chance for me to shut up, to watch, to learn.

And that seems to be something us we need to heed a lot, no? I mean, when you have a country of people such as Mr. Man-on-Crutches, his sidekick Mr. Right-Shoulder Parrot and their League on Gentlemen in tow, with a stubborn instistence to use the wrong gate at an international airport...

"Me I know."

Who knows? Maybe in this log entry, I just had a case of word salad.

 

Capn's Bonus: Was it worth sh 4 million? Yes? No? Me I don't know. However, I like how at 2:07 the random guy to the left of the screen has his hat knocked off and for the briefest moment, he looks frozen in fear: "I hope teacher Clarence didn't see that. Let's pretend that never happened..."

 

Capn's Log: Of Uhuru, Sonko, Waititu and the award-winning airport drama

20th September 2011

It was a classic sequence of events, one whose participants and viewers are bound not to forget for quite a while.

And for their efforts, the-man-whose-real-name-has-been-forgotten-but-is-referred-to-as-Mike-Sonko and his parrot-on-shoulder Ferdinand Waititu have to be credited for a sterling performance.

Act 1:

Airport. Several groups of women waiting outside in the below-13 temperature of the night, singing songs of support. Women clad in Maasai regalia, or split in groups wearing colours alluding to the national flag - preferably off the lot that were at Nyayo Stadium with the good Pastor Ojigbani.

Cut to expensive black car arriving at parking lot. Uhuru Kenyatta steps out. Begin rolling out subtitles of toughts of those present to "see off" Mr. Kenyatta:

Mr. See-Off 1: I'll just give Mheshimiwa the classic casual manly handshake. He'll certainly remember that.

Mr. See-Off 2: I'll also give Mheshimiwa the classic casual manly handshake, the CCMHS... Wait. That's not enough. How will he differentiate mine from Mr. See-Off 1? I know: I'll pull him in for the classic casual manly hug, the CCMH... Ok, maybe another one on the other side. You know, because the Bible said everything should be in twos.

Mr. See-Off 3: Dammit, they've already done the CCMHS AND the CCMH. Bah, forget those, I'll just open my arms and give him the full hug of intimate affection, the FHIA. In fact, those intelligent news guys could take a clip of me giving Mheshimiwa the FHIA. "The FHIA at JKIA." I like it. In fact, let me rub his back while giving him the FHIA. Just to be sure they get it. Ok, maybe 3 manly pats on the back to top it off. "The FHIA at JKIA."

Mr. See-Off 4: What? He's going to just pass me? No way. I'll just dive in for mine...

Ms. See-Off 1: I came this far - muscling my way through this lot  (Is that an armpit in my face?!), and there's no way I'm being left here without me at least touching a hem of the fabric of his clothes...

[Writer's sidebar: Yes, that was a Jesus joke.]

Ms. See-Off 2: Soon as I start huggung him, I'll count to 12. Only then will I let go. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10... 11... 12.

Mr. See-Off 5: Crud. They've done everything else. Aha! But they did not say something meaningful. Like, "Travel safe Mheshimiwa" or "Bado mapambano"... I know what I'll say: "Mimi nilikuombea!"

Voice is heard saying, "Mimi nilikuombea!"

Mr. See-Off 6: Whenever I hold my clande really close to me, she seems to think I care for her. Perhaps is I did the same with Mheshimiwa...

Act 2:

Man on crutches seen entering, wearing a jacket seemingly borrowed from the airport's watchman, and a hat bought from a hawker on Uhuru Highway in support of the creation of local jobs. Accompanying him is the entourage composed of the League of Gentlemen - presumably before learning said gentlemanly skills. To the left of Mr. Man-on-Crutches is his right-shoulder parrot, Mr. Right-Shoulder Parrot.

Enter police/security with sense of professionalism and with intimate knowledge of who uses the airport.

Mr. Man-on-Crutches: Seeing how he's using English, I'll seek to alienate him from the other by speaking Kiswahili. Once I've won them over - and I think I have - I'll start pushing forward. 

Random Gentleman 1: This is my chance to score points with Mr. Man-in-Crutches. I'll repeatedly say, "Wacha Mheshimiwa apite", and I'm sure if I nag these officers enough, they'll let him pass. Then I'll take credit.

Random Gentleman 2: This "Wacha Mheshimiwa apite" thing is catchy and straight to the point. It'll get my point across. I'll also say that. Although mine will have a slight inflection upwards towards the end. So that I sound different than this other bugger.

Mr. Right-Shoulder Parrot: If I started negotiating with Mr. Officer here, maybe...

Random Gentleman 3 heard repeatedly saying, "Usimguse tafadhali, usimguse bwana, huyu ni mheshimiwa, usimguse, huyu ni mheshimiwa..." in different permutations of the phrases.

Mr. Man-on-Crutches pushes forward, Random Gentleman 3 immediately moves forward to "protect" his mheshimiwa. Commotion. Shouts of "Usimsukume" sprinkled with "Huyu ni mheshimiwa" heard, with a dash of "wacha aingie".

[Writer's side-bar: Here comes the award-worthy part.]

Mr. Man-on-Crutches: I need to push forward a little more to make my point. Someone touched me. Wait: Someone touched me? SOMEONE TOUCHED ME!

Mr. Man-on-Crutches heard groaning, keeled over, eyes squinted. Random Gentleman 3 - clearly in need of glasses - begins demanding why Mheshimiwa has been kicked. Possibly by the ghosts of his disappointed ancestors. Shouts of "Mbona unapiga mheshimiwa teke?" and "Tunakuona!" heard.

Mr. Security's reinforcements arrive. Mr. Man-on-Crutches, Mr. Right-Shoulder Parrot and League of Gentlemen retreat, littered with talk of "Hatuwezi wacha mheshimiwa!" and "Hii ni madharau gani?"

Cut to Mr. Man-on-Crutches, seeming suddenly frail and weak, getting into car and being driven off, with 2 random gentlemen hanging on the left side of car, possibly to protect Mheshimiwa from the deadly effects of that ghastly night wind.

Close curtain, crowd applause.

 

 

In other news: I now see why tourists come into the country expecting to be met with the sight of monkeys and other assortment of wild animals at the airport.

 

Capn's Log: Talk Like a Pirate, #AviOfTheDay

19th September 2011

It be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so drop yer g's and v's and leave nothing to chance, ye scurvy dogs and lustful wenches.

*back to self*

Although, in all fairness, the arr's and slurs all make pirates look rather silly, ey? I'd love to travel back in time, wide-eyed with curiosity, to a time when pirates ruled the high seas, navy vessels across the world terrified of even the mention of the word "Pirate" - I think - and find one that speaks English more refined that the Queen's.

*crashing glass*

Which is possible. Seeing how no one has ever met a pirate. Neither are there documented cases of pirates. At least, none where we have them on record, speaking.

That is, of course, if you choose to ignore the ones off the Somali coast.

"To err is human. To arr is pirate. Except if you're Somali."

-*-*- 

Couple of weeks ago I started something new on my Twitter profile, and named it "#avioftheday". A few friends of mine had requested I put up a post explaining what the idea behind it is  - actually, I promised said post - and here it is. Finally.

A friend of mine had just passed on, and the usual stuff followed: Updates in memory, change in profile pictures and avatars... The works.

Which is all fine.

But why couldn't I do that when they were still around to hear me appreciate them? To know I appreciate them? I mean, updating my profile picture to their image after they're off to Davy Jones' locker seems just a little bit short on logic, ey?

So everyday, my avatar changes in tribute to the people in my life. I don't think there's much else to explain there.

By the way, I'm thinking of having a funeral service pre-death. Save costs.

"The prospect of death has a curious way of reshuffling one's prioroties."

 

 

 

Capn's Log: Stop the Chinese, me hearties!

16th September 2011

They are everywhere.

Dear me, they are everywhere.

Now before you accuse me of being racist (and I'm not - my lawyer asked me to add that), just allow me to go through my argument to the end, would you? Thanks.

Look at our country today: Massive development projects underway. And the progress is swift. From real estate (funded by the Chinese), to the road network (implemented by the Chinese), to cultivating a populous workforce (pleasured by the Chinese).

I had problems getting free t-shirts this year. I'm huge. Not a giant, but huge nonetheless.

Ok, "comparatively" huge.

Do you realize how ghastly frustrating it is to have my team-mates wearing Kinanda Festival t-shirts and I can't fit into them? Best part: It's an XXL. Bloody XXL and I cannot fit into it.

I blame the Chinese.

Because, compared to our good friends from China, I'm a giant.

Now I shudder at the thought that some of their manufacturing plants might relocate to Kenya.

Why would they relocate? Simple:

1. They have the projects.
2. They have the money.
3. They have the, erm, ability to populate. (Heck, if the ability to populate was a superpower created in a lab, it was probably in a Chinese lab.)

And our government - as with many governments across Africa - would welcome them with open arms. And other appendages. Why?

That appears to be a concept that Western nation don't seem to get: The Chinese are bringing money, no questions asked. Ask Gabon's president, Ali Bongo Ondimba. He loves the Chinese. Because they say: "Here is money. We see no evil, hear no evil, nor speak of any evil otherwise perceived."

This is a thought that creates panic in my head. Simply for the mediocre reason expressed earlier on:

I'm huge. Not a giant, but huge nonetheless.

Ok, "comparatively" huge.

I will not have my size discriminated against. My "S" is your "XXL". If you're doing the manufacturing, I fear the implications of such.

Ask South Africa.

"The High Court in Pretoria has set aside a government decision to award a tender for Chinese-made condoms, according to a report. This was because the condoms were too small, made of the wrong material and was not approved by the World Health Organisation." (Times Live)

"...because the condoms were too small..."

Now, if your XXL t-shirt couldn't even go beyond my shoulders...

(Photo courtesy: Sunday Times)

Do you realize how ghastly frustrating it is to be at that point of passion, when everything is set, you're just about to rip open the pack, and then you see those tragic word in the print:

XXL. Made in China.

Woi, I think I even felt myself wilting at the thought.

Stop snickering.

I'm huge. Not a giant, but huge nonetheless.

Ok, "comparatively" huge.

And I will not have my size discriminated against.

 

Capn's Bonus: Britney Spears, to help you reflect on that, you scallywags.

Aaarrr.

 

Attention, ye pests! This here lass >> Sharon Langat << just sent me this story that says a Chinese firm has been handed a Kenyan geothermal energy deal by the good folks upstairs.

Just so it's clear: Yesterday the roads, today geothermal energy, tomorrow our condoms... Trust me, the size of your beer is also going down.

Diary: Of London Riots, Financial markets, Grand conspiracies and End of times.

Dear Diary,

I, in all honesty, do not feel like going into this as at now, in terms of elaborating, except for letting you see this tweet I sent earlier:

So just sit and think about it and tell me of your theories. I'll argue when I have the mental energy to do so.

Meanwhile, a few photos, all from boston.com, except the first, which was a TwitPic:

And then there's the matter of the financial markets.

Ok, my brain is not in it. I know what's in my mind, but today is just not the writing day for me.

Feel free to go read your Bible now.

*walks away*

Marcus.

Diary: Of campaigns and the "me too" mindset.

Hi Diary,

I agree with Martha Karua: We are very reactionary as a nation. We wait until the situation has broken down the door and camped in our house for 3 days, having breakfast with us at the same table before we finally think to ourselves, 'Maybe there's a stranger in my house that I need to kick out.'

This morning, as I go through my timeline, I see something new: "#Kenyans4Kenya". An initiative seemingly backed by corporate giants Safaricom and KCB, as well as "media owners". (That's in quotes for a reason, but that's another discussion.)

An initiative whose nobility, for the record, I do not dispute. We have hungry citizens in parts of this country who'd renounce their citizenship and leave for Qatar, if only it meant just one guaranteed meal every 2 days.

Flashback to about 10 days ago: My timeline is invaded by this new initiative: "#FeedKE". Self explanatory, considering the circumstances, so I will not insult your intelligence by pretending to break it down.

Obvious question here being: "Huh?"

And it is a question that has been expressed in different ways throughout the morning, such as:

 

Or the less veiled:

Huh?

I've tried seeing it in different ways. And there's truth to the argument that it will not matter to that hungry Kenyan.

But pretending that there's no deeper issue to this would be acting in the same manner we accuse our "leaders" of doing: Being comically evasive. If anything, we accuse them of that simply because we are jealous of the fact that they execute - and get away with - it in ways only our imagination can capture.

Another discussion for another day.

One of the theories that came up in explanation of my "Huh?" moment was this one:

Valid theory.

However.

I too have a theory.

"Even me I want a toy."

Remember when we were kids, and you'd see the neighbour's kid with a new plaything? You'd run over to them, ask to  have a look at it, and after glance saying "Dare you break it", you'd go ahead to have a ball with it for all of 10 seconds, before they snatched it back.

I remember I'd run to my folks, tug and nag till they gave in to buying me my own plaything.

You'd think it would be over once they bought one for me.

"No, Mummy, I want that one."

Which is exactly what is going on here.

Someone might have sat down, looked at one thing and thought: "I want my own. No. I want that one."

Simple as that.

And it's not the first of the sort. It's replicated all across the board. Every single cause you can think of, it's there. HIV/AIDS. Malaria. Poverty. And the latest one: Cancer.

Now get me right: Selfishness is an integral part of human nature. We all want to "make that difference", leave our names etched in the wall of history. That stamp of authority. "I was here."

You know what? It's who we are. Even the very nature of selflessness is selfish.

(Think about it.)

So really, this is what #feedKE and #Kenyans4Kenya is about. And someone saw someone else's toy and said:

"Me too."

Thus my soul is torn between the two. Who do I support? Do I support the "authentic" campaign? Do I go with "the big boys"?

 

I've grown up a geek. The ladies always went for the seemingly more muscled and handsome fellow. Kinda reminds me of that.

Or I could flip a coin.

Or we could fight, and then I support the winner. Winner takes all, right?

But wait:

And here I was thinking I had a hard time deciding.

At the end of the day, that small matter of "Me too" aside, DiaspoRadical puts it rather well, because beyond "Me too", there's yet another underlying issue at hand:

Seeing how, should anything happen in 2012, it will be more a class war than anything else.

But that is a whole other discussion.

Now where's that coin?

 

Marcus.

 

UPDATE: (1305hrs) You really ought to read this post too, by Nanjira "@msupastar" Sambuli. She speaks truth.

UPDATE: (1440hrs) I've gotten an update from Naomi "@aKenyanGirl" Mutua, a post on VibeWeekly. She had a chat with Bob Collymore, as well as with Ahmed Salim. Also truth in this article. Bottom line remains: Do something. (Preferably build on the existent. But that's just my opinion.)

UPDATE: (1515hrs) There's a discussion happeneing on Nanjira's blogpost (as shared above); just thought I'd share a few excerpts of that discussion:

Brian: No offence but the #FeedKe was only popular on social media (read Twitter and some parts of Facebook). Less than 2% of the country’s population actively engage on this platform and so it really defeats logic to have something that’s the preserve of a minority elite be the “unifying call”. With safaricom and KCB, you have a group of companies that combined combine the greatest reach that this campaign possibly could have gotten... No offense intended.

Nanjira: I appreciate that #feedKE was primarily a social media campaign. If looking at this matter purely from the approach of ‘ground covered’,then #kenyans4Kenya shouldn’t be on social media launching the campaign. They should cover all other ground... There was the option to enhance an already existent initiative... And while I appreciate that the corporates have financial muscle and the ability to appeal to greater masses,then should we leave al efforts to them? Should brave individuals taking on such initiatives sit back and wait for the big boys to come to the rescue? True,we are all after one goal,but must we use one too many routes to get there?

Vuyanzi: The points that Brian raises are extremely important and somewhat credible but nonetheless invalid in that the conclusion does not seem to follow logically from the premises. Sure, #FeedKe was targeted at Kenyans active in social media and (let’s pretend) #Kenyans4Kenya isn’t. So why not bring the two together so that we are indeed covering all feasible corners? Why can’t #Kenyans4Kenya throw its said fleshy sinews of financial muscle on what, in comparison, appears to be the gaunt but now established framework that is #feedKE?

Head over to the post and contribute to the discussion.

 

UPDATE: (1620hrs) Here's another blogpost that speaks on the matter: "Why #Kenyans4Kenya and #FeedKE Initiatives Must Exist Side by Side". An excerpt:

#FeedKe is a great initiative. the problem is that the credibility an experience of those involved makes it a less attractive initiative. So however much you might want the Blue Chips like Safaricom, KCB, NMG, Standard and others to join an initiative run by one person, they simply wont.

Diary: Let's talk about France (wanau.me).

Dear Diary,

Wrote this for Wanaume last week, and right now I'm scounging off of Internet at Wanjeri Gakuru's office as she dreams away in a meeting.

(There's no proof of that, by the way.)

To my right is the delightful lady you know as Jacque Ndinda. I know her as Jacque Ndinda.

Keep scratching your head Diary, you'll figure it out. If there's anything to figure out.

So here's the Wanaume post. Everything you need to know about the origin of the post is within the post itself.

Yes Diary, I'm cheating on you with another blog.

Speaking of cheating... That's for another day.

-*-*-*-

 

I was going through my timeline this morning as I was doing my Breakfast show, and bumped into this tweet, in an ongoing discussion:

You're also curious, aren't you?

 

Which would naturally lead you to wonder what informs such a tweet:

RT @jimchuchu: My bigger concern is the kind of leaders who sign such stupid agreements. Re:http://wanau.me/GM

Let’s just break down the key points in that article, so that we can quickly get to my view:

• France had 14 colonies in Africa.
• These states signed an agreement seeing to it that:
  • They put 65% of their foreign currency reserves into the French Treasury
  • They put an additional 20% for financial liabilities
  • If they need more they have to borrow their own money from the French at commercial rates
  • France has the first right to buy or reject any natural resources found in the land of the Francophone countries
  • In the award of government contracts, French companies must be considered first
  • Any citizen, up to and including First Ladies, can be claimed by any senior member of the French administration as their wife or concubine, as they may deem fit

Ergo, 85% of the money is in a French safe somewhere in the form of diamonds from some other war-ravaged Francophone nation, and if they need money, they have access to only 15% of it, after which, hello loan forms.

I was joking, by the way. On the wives part.

Now, I refuse to condemn the leaders that signed that agreement. I refuse to call them gullible, selfish, or any of those words that often come to mind when you mention the phrase “African Leaders”. See? Like that phrase that just came to your mind.

Instead, I applaud the French. Some people somewhere took time out and thought this through in a way that puts Michael Stone (the TV series “Hustle”) to shame.

 

Imagine these guys outfoxed.

 

*switch to French accent*

Pierre:            Bon. We ‘ave zees people, and zey arre demanding liberté. But we ‘ad been profiting very much from zeir plenty resources, and now we will no longer ‘ave zem.

Jean:                Oui, very unfortunate. But zere ‘as to be way in which we can continue benefitting from zem…

Louise:            I ‘ave idea. Every Christmas, we offer free ‘holiday for President and top government officials.

Jean:                No no no, zat will not be working. ‘oliday will not assure us zat President and government will be giving good business.

Pierre:            Jean ‘as reason. No promise for success in zat. We ‘ave to be ‘aving solid plan.

Louise:            I am understanding what you are meaning. But what options are we ‘aving?

Jean:                Do you sink zey will be signing agreement?

Louise:            Excusez-moi?

Jean:                Oui, signing agreement.

Pierre:            Agreement for?

Jean:                Zat zey will be committing zeir money in our Treasury…

Louise:            *emphatically* No. Zey are African, but zey are not too stupide. Slightly stupide, but not too stupide.

Pierre:            But we could be hiding zat fact.

Jean:                But how?

Pierre:            We could be telling zem zat we will be storing money for zeir government because we have more developed banking system.

Louise:            J’aime ça; zat could actually be working…

Jean:                But not all of it. If we say all of it, zey will immediately oppose. Maybe if we are saying 85% of zeir money only…

Loiuse:            Still too much. Zey will be seeing loophole and zen zey will be screaming about “sovereignty”.

[collective sigh of contemplation, silence in the room. Louise’s face brightens up]

Louise:            Unless…

Jean, Pierre:   What?

Louise:            We tell zem only 65%, additional 20% in case for, how do zey call it… Ah, oui: additional 20% for what zey call en Anglais “back up”. Or “liabilities”.

Pierre:            But zat will not be promising French companies business. For growth of our own business.

Jean:                True true.

[collective sigh of contemplation, silence in the room. Jean’s face brightens up]

Jean:                Unless…

Louise, Pierre:What?

Jean:                We say because we are keeping for zem zeir money for government safe, our companies get premiere consideration for contracts. You know, comme des amis.

Pierre:            Yes, zat will be working. “As friends”.

[they share a collective laugh]

Louise:            And zen, all resources as well, we become first to know. “As friends”.

[they share another collective laugh]

Pierre:            And zen, still “as friends”, we also tell zem zat all their women belong to us. “As friends”.

[Pierre laughs alone, Louise and Jean look at him with cold, almost dismayed stares. Pierre realizes this and awkwardly stops laughing]

Louise:            I told you Pierre, zey are slightly stupide, but not too stupide.

Pierre:            Désolé.

Jean:                You should be. Now go draft zose agreement and let’s get zem to sign while we dangle carrot of independence in zeir faces.

 

Okay kiddies, entertainment done. You get the idea: Yes, African leaders, blah blah blah, but the evil part of me just has to admire the brilliance in the entire set-up.

Thank heavens the English are significantly dumber.

Wait. Maybe not. But that’s for another day.

Some champagne to celebrate the long-term vision of French leadership, and a toast to the hope that Africa shall get to that level of foresight.

 

French leaders even have hot wives.

(All hail champagne: Yet another product of brilliant French thinking.)

 

DISCLAIMER: The views represented herein may not be an accurate depiction of history as it played out. Neither do they represent the views of the French government, nor of wanau.me. Really, they don’t. They are more style than substance. That said, the parties associated with this article, including Marcus Olang’ and the overall wanau.me enterprise, shall not be held liable for whatever truths may dawn upon the reader, nor for any rumours that may or may not begin circulating as a direct or indirect result of this article.

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I need to go back to writing other stuff Diary. We'll discuss the cheating later.

Marcus.

Diary: Mickey Bricks v. Nathan Ford

Dear Diary,

We need to discuss a very important issue.

An issue more important than the implementation of the new constitution.

Much graver than the standards of the buildings in Nairobi, elevatored or elevator-free.

Weightier than whether or not our CJ should wear a stud. (Wait. That battle was won.)

A lot more life-threatening than [He-who-must-not-be-named] and whether or not he's a drug kingpin.

This issue was sparked off by this post by this guy: 

Sorry. Wrong image.

Diary, you know the ability to read people is the one thing I'm fascinated with, so without thinking, Epps was out of the question. Jane? Too much drama. A science behind the reasoning, with a broken, cold and eccentric personality to boot? Carl Lightman was a clean win.

Sorry. I meant this guy:

So, on that particular post, this is how the conversation went:

C'mon Janelle, I love you, but I love Diary too. Can't we all just live in peace and harmony?

(By the way, thanks Mugambi for that particular image.)

Now Diary, let's get a few things clear:

Mr. Stone is the king of long cons. He is infinitely more elaborate and forward thinking than Mr. Ford.

Wrong image.

One:

My 6-year old cousin has thought of long cons more elaborate than Mr. Ford. One time, he needed dog's poo to scoop and place it on a swing that he deemed his enemy's swing. He followed the dog around for 3 hours - one hundred and eighty minutes - until the dog did his #2, and then followed through on his plot.

Mr. Ford conned a landlord. Bleh. An American landlord.

Two:

Mr. Stone has a British mind.

Mr. Ford has an American mind.

Need I expound?

Three:

On six different occasions, my brother - he's 12 years old, by the way - was able to predict where Mr. Ford's con was going. He's 12. Who, by the way, is a brilliant kid. I've seen 18 year olds swooning over his mind. And his dastardly good looks. Yep, it's in the blood Diary, it's in the blood.

At no point have we been able to do that with Mr. Stone's cons. We even press "Pause" to debate every single scenario possible, and when Play resumes, we are taken by surprise.

Did I mention Mr. Ford is running cons in America?

Four:

Television started celebrating Mr. Stone's cons on February 24th, 2004.

Television started, erm, making a big deal out of Mr. Ford's cons on December 7th, 2008.

Diary, that's a whole 4+ years later. Enough time for Nate to sit down and try learning from Micky Bricks. And he still did a bad job at replicating it.

Replicate. What does this reminds me of? Ah, yes:

 

Did I mention Nate is an American mind running a con game in America and American television started celebrating his American cons 4+ years (American time) after true intellect started celebrating actual, thought-through cons?

Fine Janelle, you, me, music. Coming back.

In summary: If Mickey Bricks was Robin Hood Lite, then Nate Ford is Mickey Bricks Lite. Mickey Bricks Lite Made in China. Actually, the Chinese equivalent of River Road.

So Diary (and Michael Onsando), I'm glad we had this discussion.

Till another time. I need to go back to my love.

Second only to you, of course, Diary.

Marcus.