marcusolang

Surviving the Great Matatu Strike of 2012.

Dear Noni,

So here I am, stuck at Pawa254 for the moment because, well, matatu strike.

Why are they on strike, you ask? To have their grievances addressed, obviously.

"I know that. But what grievances?"

Not my concern. That's what you'll read in the papers tomorrow. Or watch it on the news tonight. If you'll get home in time for the news tonight.

Which brings me to the point of this little love note of mine.

A few tips to ensure you survive The Great Matatu Strike of 2012:

1. Go to a nearby supermarket. Buy a bottle of water. Drink that, and refill your bottle with water from the office dispenser. You need to be well hydrated for the walk home. And it would be a shame if you just bought water without the office chipping in. Your sweat, after all, is what paid for that water dispenser, right?
2. Update your music - on your phone, iThing or whatever it is you use. Last thing you need is to be bored as you walk home. Or listening to Celine Dion. Or worse: Boyz2Girls, WasteLife, n-Sink. [I forget their names.] Bleargh.
3. Charge your phone. Between the music and tweeting your frustrations away, a dead phone is not your friend. Especially when you see someone you know drive past you and you want to call them for a ride.
4. Leave the office now. A walk home would probably be best during daylight hours - unless, of course, you want to give your stuff to a more charitable cause. Which means if you hadn't #3... Sorry mate.
5. Do a quick Google search of the news today. With the amount of tweeting you'll need to do to stay entertained, we don't need to sound stupid, do we? Remember the UhuRuto story, for instance? There's a good one. A good angle to go with would be the prospect of them actually being in State House next year.
6. You're not a news person? No worries. Just head over to CrazyNairobian's Twitter feed and steal one of his jokes. Or an entire article perhaps, for your blog. Watching the hits come in as you walk would serve as proper distraction. Besides, no one would ever know. Plagiarism? That's a non-existent concept. Ask Larry Asego, Shaffie Weru, or Caroline Mutoko.
7. Today is as good a day as any to start carpooling, no? That, or we could each call our own cabbie and fill up the roads some more. Which is perfectly reasonable in our culture.
8. Just chill at the office, tweet away, have a ball on YouTube... Then go out. The rust-buckets that take over the routes at night would never go on strike.

I'd get to 10, but that would mean I'd need to think. I'm not in the mood. Besides, you can get there yourself, yes?

- O.

 

 

Because I heart you, Muthoni. [Also, V-neck t-shirts are gay.]

Hey Muthoni,

Once in a while, I go out on an adventure. I set out into the dark, unknown depths of the interwebs, just to find something for you. Something special. Something unique. Something that I'm sure you'd enjoy for its rarity.

I do it because I heart you.

And this is what I found for you on my latest exploits: 

http://heyyeyaaeyaaaeyaeyaa.com/

You're most welcome.

But that is not all I brought back for you.

I also returned with this: News that V-necks are gay.

Yes, I know, we always suspected as much, you and I. And that's because you and I are among the clever lot. V-neck t-shirts on a man? C'mon. The very basis of the V-neck design is to allow us a V-iew of the more V-oracious aspects of the female physique.

Or, as they say in American: "V-necks are for us to look at boobies." [Although I do suspect that my American is rather weak. My English may have leaked through there.]

That explained, what would possess a fully grown man to wear a garment specifically designed to allow a teasing glimpse of that oh-so-heart-warming part of the female form?

But we both knew that.

Which brings us to the important bit.

Prepare yourself for this...

Ready? Sure? Because this will change your life...

So here it is:

The Government of Malasyia agrees with us!

Imagine that! Who ever imagined there'd exist a government in this lifetime that sees things our way? Ey?

So here's the deal: The Malaysian government has begun organizing seminars aimed at helping parents and teachers identify latent homosexuality in children. [Because, you know, prevention is better... Or it's good to catch the bug earlier... Or something of the sort.]

And one of the principal warning signs of said latent homosexuality? V-neck T-shirts. 

Stop giggling Muthoni. I'm serious.

Malaysia's Deputy Education Minister Mohd Puad Zarkashi said this at a seminar last week Wednesday. Apparently, not many people understand or know the early "symptoms" of homosexuality, bisexuality and transgender inclinations and are therefore ill-equipped to prevent its spread.

[This guy, according to these guys.]

The checklist doesn't stop at V-necks, though. Behold:

• Gay men have muscular bodies and like to show off by wearing V-neck and sleeveless clothes.
• They prefer tight and light-coloured clothing.
• They like to carry big handbags similar to those used by women.

So, Noni, ask yourself:

*cue ad voice*

Does your man have a muscular body? Does he like to show off his muscles by wearing V-necks and sleeveless clothes? Is his wardrobe largely light-coloured and tight? Does he have handbags, all of which are bigger than the ones you own? Then congratulations madam: What you have there is a limited edition gay boyfriend!

Other features of this limited edition gay boyfriend include:

• The ability to clearly distinguish what colours you're wearing with Duracoat paint-chart accuracy
• The ability to completely empathise with YOUR girlfriends
• Many more unique and exciting features that vary from one model to the next

So make sure you keep yours safe today! Because you never know when one of your girlfriends may fall for his sensual charm!

["Girlfriends" here is a broad reference to both male and female.]

- A message brought to you by the government of Malaysia.

*end ad voice*

In short Noni, tell this to all your girlfriends: "You're not gay because you like men. You're gay because you wear a V-neck t-shirt."

[Where "girlfriends" here refers to... Well, I have every faith in your deductive skills, Noni.]

- Olang' M.

*-*-*

Having mentioned boobies somewhere up there, I suspect I need to remind you that it is indeed boobies month. And I love boobies. And since the universe revolves around love [for boobies], have yours checked, yes? The universe thanks you.

Prison Break: Olang' Edition.

Hey Muthoni,

I write to you locked in an office. Or, as the newsrooms put it:

"This just in: Marcus Olang' is at this very moment trapped in an office."

Kinda like him.

I know what you're thinking:

"Aren't you supposeed to be calling someone? Or panicking? Or something normal human beings would do at this point in time? What are you doing writing me a letter?"

Well, I would do any one of those things. Except:

1. I don't consider myself a normal human being.
2. Panic is overrated. And largely unhelpful.

Funny story though, how I got locked in. Not long, but funny.

I've been here for the better part of the day (since 11am), and came in with everything I needed to move as little as possible. Namely 1 litre of water and 2 green apples.

Point of humour #1: I have only had one pee break since said time of arrival. Yes, yes, laugh all you want Noni, but it's true that when you don't have access to the facilities, the need to use them increases exponentially.

Especially when you realise that you're locked in.

Point of humour #2: I've been working with my earphones on since 11am (I know, I know, bad for my hearing), so when the characters were locking up, I didn't hear anything. Nothing at all. Which leads me to only one conclusion: They are Japanese-trained ninjas. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So here I am, with the internet, an empty bottle of water and a half-empty bladder (half-full bladder, say the pessimists). Calling a lovely lady called Bessie to find out if it's at all possible for these barriers - a door and a gate - to be opened.

I don't want to inconvenience her [yes, because "inconvenience" is now a verb], so I put it to her that I only need an askari to jump over the gate, I'll hand him the key to the door via a wondow, and he'll open the door for me. (The key is cut in such a manner that you could only open the door from the outside. Yes, yes, keep laughing Noni. I know it's funny. That's why I'm telling you the story.)

Excuse me a moment as I take Bessie's call. Be back with you shortly. Enjoy this music as you wait.

 

Hi Noni. I'm back. So beautiful Bessie (at this point, I imagine her in a SuperGirl costume - which I'll buy for her) has actually managed to get an askari and... Look at that! Someone's jumping over the gate!

Excuse me again as I hand him the key. Allow me to put you on hold for a bit.

 

I'm back. And would you look at that: I'm free.

Well, there's still the small matter of me jumping over the gate that's slightly taller than I am. Then after that, I'm free.

There's a lot of things I imagine people that have been behind bars want to do. I'll need to start off my new-found freedom with a visit to the gents. Nothing too flambuoyant.

What's that Muthoni? The laughter left your words a little unclear.

"Are you sure you didn't get yourself locked in just to have a good story to tell?"

"Kinda like him?"

Well, I wouldn't put anything past myself.

Although I do have to mention: There's this wonderful woman that got me in touch with Bessie, and is therefore an key part to my freedom. Rumour has it that she's my girlfriend. She's cool people, Noni. You'll like her. I'll tell you more about her later.

I'd have written this better if I had the luxury of time. However, I'm not too fond of not answering nature when she calls.

[I'll be auctioning rights to my awe-inspiring story, by the way. Mine shall inspire the second half of the "Nairobi Half Life" franchise. I'm looking right at you, Tosh Gitonga.]

Now excuse me as I go jump over a gate. And hunt down a urinal. No maps needed, thank you. [That's for you, Apple.]

- Olang' M.

"There's no pain worse than a well-aimed kick to your jewels." Someone lied.

Hey Muthoni.

"There's no pain worse than a well-aimed kick to the jewels."

Someone once said that to me.

And by "someone", I mean a variety of movies, comedians and general urban folklore, not anyone in particular.

Well, Noni, someone needs to be shot, because someone lied.

I'm telling you this with both my jaw and fist clenched: Jaw because of pain; and fist because I'm ready to punch anyone that I believe will punch me back and cause enough pain to distract me from the pain in my jaw.

"What's going on, Olang' sweetie?"

I thought you'd never ask, Noni.

I've never been to a dentist. My entire life. I've been perfectly fine, every part of my body - teeth included - in prime working order.

Up until three weeks ago. When my life changed in ways I never thought could happen.

You see, coffee is a beautiful thing. It tells you things, makes you think you can take on anything and anyone.

So amazing coffee is, that just a sip will give you that shot of confidence to walk into  your boss' office and tell him:

"You know what? I've had enough of your nonsense: You're going to double my salary simply because you have more money in that bank account, you stingy goat."

And he'll do just that, offering you a promotion while he's at it.

Hell yeah.

So amazing coffee is, that just a gulp will make you pick up your phone, call that girl you've always liked and tell her:

"Listen here woman. I like you. I don't care whether you like me or not, but you're going to say 'yes' to the question I'm ask you and you will love yourself for it. Now, we're meeting for coffee tomorrow 10am, and as soon as I pay that bill, you're officially my girlfriend. Do you understand?"

And she'll do just that, washing your feet as soon as you two get home.

Hi Boity.

So amazing coffee is, that just a cup will have The Man Your Man Could Smell Like calling you, admitting this:

"You're The Man."

Remember him?

Now imagine me having my vital morning dose of coffee, that perfect balance of sugar, caffeine, water and heat energy, and at just the precise moment when I'm about to swallow perfection, some prick blindsides me with a needle to the right side of my jaw.

Only when I turn to punch the silly prick, there is no silly prick with a needle screaming, "Gotcha!"

My bloody tooth is the prick.

Imagine that, Muthoni.

"So what does this have to do with being kicked in the jewels?"

You clearly have never been kicked in the jewels, have you Muthoni? Well, I have: My brain stopped functioning for a good 12 seconds. Pure white pain. And at age 6, on a dusty playground, the message gets no clearer: Never get kicked in the jewels.

Attached: Image of pure white pain.

Up until three weeks ago, I thought that was the highest level of pain I'd have to endure, short of being mistakenly kidnapped and locked up in a post-Guantanamo Guantanamo-like Guantanamo for a crime I know nothing of.

Up until my tooth became a prick.

Look at me Muthoni: I'm sweating. Do you feel how cold the room is? The window is open, the Nairobi wind could turn a hot cup of coffee into a frozen block and I'm sweating.

When I was kicked in the jewels, I only howled like the little baby I was, but not once did a bead of sweat appear on my forehead.

Tonight, as I tell you this, I'm sweating in pain. I'm sitting perfectly still - well, almost perfectly still - yet my armpits are soaked in sweat.

I'm the ideal candidate for that Rexona dryness test.

Except, you know, I'm a man. So that's out of the question.

All this, just because a bunch of nerves are suddenly exposed to the elements. Really, whose idea was it to have a bunch of raw nerves covered only by a couple of millimetres of enamel - which is [allegedly] some of the hardest stuff you'll ever come across?

Not to question your authority, Mr. God, but at least a centimetre of that enamel stuff would last a lifetime - literally.

But I'm not about to blame Sir God for anything. If anything, a "Thank You" is in order. He giveth and He taketh away. Imagine if He decided to taketh the enamel covering on every tooth...

No, Sir God has nothing to do with this. I just need you to do me this one favour, Muthoni:

Find the someone that made me believe that the worst pain I'll ever get to feel is a well-placed knee to the jewels. Bring that someone to me, however many they may be.

And I'll drill a hole in someone's teeth, follow that up with a perfect cup of coffee poured into their mouth.

Then knee someone in the jewels and tell someone:

Say "There's no pain worse than a well-aimed kick to the jewels" again. Say "There's no pain worse than a well-aimed kick to the jewels" again, I dare you...

"Facebook adds 'Expecting a Baby' event to Timeline." God help us all.

Hey Muthoni,

Just spotted this headline on an article as I was skipping along on the interwebs:

"Facebook adds 'Expecting a Baby' event to Timeline."

(Image via The Verge)

Muthoni baby, I'm genuinely scared. Terrified.

Knees knocking. Cold sweat.

Trembling in my... *looks down* ...North Star shoes.

Size 10, in case you wanted to get me a gift. Thanks Noni.

"But why is that, Olang'?"

I'm glad you asked, Muthoni:

Us blokes nowadays are increasingly "discovering" that they are in relationships through Facebook. Yes, through that ruddy Facebook relationship update feature. And that "What's on your mind?" box that they have on there too.

You still don't get it, do you?

Listen: Remember that last bash we went to two weeks ago? Remember that random officemate Ken "got with" after the bash? Remember how awkward it was at the office between them after that, especially considering the fact that neither of them remembers the encounter because of how sky-high they were?

Now imagine that random officemate of Ken's going onto Facebook tomorrow and editing her profile:

...In May 2013

And don't you dare tell me it can't happen. Even if she and Ken are not friends, Ken could get a call:

• Dude, what's going on?
• What do you mean?
• Your girlfriend...
• What girlfriend?
• Whatever man. She just edited her profile: "Expecting a baby May 2013."

Gentlemen, be afraid. Be very afraid.

#iDontBelieve: “The Power of The People vs. The People in Power”

(Preamble: This is a reblog. One whose message I wholly endorse.)

*-*-*

First and foremost, a heartfelt prayer for the victims of explosion on Moi Avenue.

OK, now on to the blog.

About a week plus ago Uhuru Kenyatta launched his TNA Party in what can only be described as the biggest launch of anything ever in Kenya. Seriously. He must’ve had the same budget as the Avengers movie. It was epic and quite impossible to miss.

The meat of the message he spewed out was some very inspirational, flowery and borderline purple balderdash on the importance of believing and having faith, hope and dreams. If I may, I’d like to quote him quoting someone.

“It was once said and I quote “ To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe.” end quote. Here today we have seen a dream being unfolded, we have seen the wings of hope that can carry us into the future and beyond. This is not some grand elaborate design, no, on the contrary it is very simple and basic, it all about our dreams. We all dream, children more so, but we must now start believing in the dream in order to achieve great things.”

“Ours is a party whose engine is oiled with the dreams of every Kenyan. A party that focuses into the future by offering solutions for the problems of today and emerging challenges of tomorrow. We seek to dispel the notion that parties are founded with the vision of getting to power. The Alliance is driven by a deep desire to fully implement the Constitution of the Republic of Kenya and the spirit of achieving the national development milestones as laid down in the Vision2030 agenda. That ladies and gentlemen is what we are asking you to judge us on as we move forward.”

- Uhuru Kenyatta, in his speech “TNA: The Alliance of Believers”

The speech is linked up there and it’s really not a horrible read. I tip my hat to the copywriter behind it and the endless hours of YouTubing inspirational speeches that must’ve been put behind that. Really I do. But let me tell you what I don’t believe before I tell you what I do.

I don’t believe that any man who has not lived a life as an average Kenyan can feign appreciation for our plight. I don’t believe that one man can change an entire government of corrupt people unless his first executive order is to dismiss them all from their current positions. I don’t believe that any person who can chalk up a Kshs. 9 billion deficit in the budget to “computer and typographical errors” honestly cares for proper management of the country’s finances. Especially when there were more deficits to follow. I don’t believe that anyone who puts more money and words on the table than actions and deeds is really offering change and not selling a dream. I don’t believe that anyone ever accidentally got accused of genocide. Furthermore, I categorically refuse believe that any person who has been in politics for 15 years will have a change of heart given more power.

And the big one, I don’t believe in our current selection of political leaders because I don’t believe that the change that needs to happen is within the rungs of power.

I do believe that the people can make a change. I believe we know where the shoe pinches and know the pain of not even having shoes, so we know what needs to be done. I believe it is our job and our responsibility to make that happen. I believe that the buck does not stop with casting the vote, nor does it start there. I believe we need more than a dream. I believe we all need to make running this country our second job. I believe in the power of the 40 million civilians, not the 200 or so government officials seated in their 200,000/- chairs delaying change.

And much as people don’t think so, I believe in the power of our voice and our vote. Because like I have said a great many times, people will always get the leader they deserve. If we are divided and apprehensive, it reflects in our leadership. If we are greedy and tribalistic, it’ll transcend to our leadership. If we are responsible and proactive…well, then maybe that TNA speech and the forthcoming speeches from other aspirants will have some context.

So I believe what we need is not to “believe in a dream”; we’ve been doing that for 50 years; I think we need to start taking baby steps, graduate to larger strides and leap forward. Any leader who claims to believe that should be able to admit that the government is oversized, overpaid, under-qualified and mismanaged. Especially when what you spent on launching your party could put streetlights in every slum in the city and cut down the murder rate.

Seriously, when you’re worth more than 80% of the population put together, and you’re one person, you need to do more than make a speech to get me to believe in you. I’m more convinced by the people I see mobilizing on a daily basis, working hard, giving despite their poverty, and not only taking time to believe but putting in time to achieve our dreams.

And unless I’m grossly mistaken, it’s politicians that keep holding us back instead of pushing us forward. Give us a push and I’ll believe. Lead in action and I’ll believe your words.

Give people power and stop seeking it for yourself and I’ll believe.

Update: Jemedari – Letter to The President

 

 

*-*-*

Reblogged from diasporadical.com

 

Njenga Karume, a tribute: “From Charcoal to Gold”

I walk into the office this morning, and as is custom, log on to my respective accounts – Twitter, Gmail, Facebook, Tumblr, in that order. A few minutes later, our morning news anchor, Allan Adika, strides into studio:

“Morning Olang’. Have you seen the news?”

“What news?”

“Hon. Njenga Karume has passed away. It’s only just breaking.”

I hope it’s simply another case of an over-eager journalist jumping the gun, as happened a few weeks ago (Saturday Feb 4^th, 2012). On goes the telly at the office, and emblazoned across the bottom of the screen on every major TV station, the very same message.

“…And he would make time for them all. Equal time. No, the rich man in the dapper suit with a business deal was not more important than the old wizened woman in the tattered clothes seeking school fees for her grandchildren. They were all treated alike. This is what impressed me most about Karume.”

                ~ Julie Gichuru

Here was a man who has been at and around the centre of Kenyan politics since pre-independence. A man that was already in the thick of this country’s agenda before my dad was born.

Here was a key figure in every major historical event to spring to mind: From Madaraka in 1963, to the Kenyatta-Moi succession politics, to the 1992 multi-party politics… All through to the politics of the day, considering his long-known friendship with President Mwai Kibaki, as well the speculation surrounding his relationship with Prime Minister Raila Odinga.

Here was a man who started off in the timber business, rising to his present stature, all of which is documented in an autobiography, “Beyond Expectations: From Charcoal to Gold”.

But most importantly, here was a man. A father. A brother. A friend. A mentor.

A man – as vulnerable as any other – who lived the last few years of his life battling a condition many men today know little of, if any.

True, we can list down all his accomplishments. We can give all the dates. All his wins. All his graceful losses. But he is still a man. A father. A brother. A friend. A mentor.

“…One of the last things he said to my business partners and I when we last sat in the same room was “It is you who shall lead this nation.” He was referring to us, the youth, the online generation. He believed that we could – and would – change the face of the country and he stood behind his words by supporting our business aspirations in kind, advice, and action.

~ diasporadical.com

This is to salute that man. Not the politician, nor the business man. This is to salute that father. That brother. That friend. That mentor.

 

Matters Music: On Kris Eeh Baba's "Katikia Yesu"

[Disclaimer: Written only as a spoilt-for-choice listener.]

"(Bam bam, bam bam bam bam) Katikia Yesu

[Eroh!]

(Bam bam, bam bam bam bam) Mi nikimu-sigino, hawezi igino, we..."

You know him from the club-banger "Mmh baba" (Surprised? Why? We'll have this gospel-music-in-clubs argument another day.) And now, teaming up with one Mutua, "Eroh!" is back.

 

So out of a possible 5:

Content: 4.1

"Machozi yangu ali-dilute / Shida zangu kubwa kazifanya minute

Wanauliza mbona mi nam-salute / Ma-youth, kilio changu alifinyanga mute..."

Thus far, I can confidently say Kris does one thing most artistes often neglect: Proof-reading. Each line flows well into the next, with a clear message in the overall individual verse being built out of them. It's not simply a "Look! I have this really cool rhyme/punchline that I HAVE to have in this track!" matter.

"I love Jesus / Coz he gave me a missus / Behold, my [rented] Lexus..."

Nope. Nothing of the sort.

Content approved.

Style/Delivery: 4.2

Hand it to the chap: He's distinct. Very. In a market flooded with Naija-impersonators (of whom you can barely differentiate this one from the next-oh), listen to this one. He emplys an unapologetically Kenyan accent - adding the delightful "Eroh!" ever so often, as well as that unmistakable whistle that I'm sure Rongai residents are most familiar with.

(What? You really didn't see that coming?)

Including this Mutua only makes the track that much stronger, seeing how he plays around with onomatopœic additions to spice up his verse. (1.40 - 1.43)

A clear win on style and delivery.

Production: 4.0

"Carena Sounds outdid themselves on this one!" would be an oversell. But "Katikia Yesu" is indeed one of the better tracks that we've heard lately. The vocals sound good in the way they sit on the bed. Also, the "climax" takes a bit of a pleasantly unexpected twist in what I'll choose to think of a moment taken to simply show off what they have on the other side of the glass in the production booth. (2.30)

Carena Sounds didn't outdo themselves, but they did do good.

Video: 4.2

Choice of location was simply brilliant - nothing to distract you from the energy on display, with even less to take away from the lyrical content. Seems to have been shot on one location, but it's a thought that doesn't take away anything from the entire showcase; if anything, makes it all the more impressive.

It seems you can hardly go wrong with Washamba Unlimited, and this here video illustrates that. Nothing more can be said here.

(What's that? More of Washamba Unlimited's work? On their Facebook page. Right here.)

Overall: 4.0

"What? 4.0? How?"

No, it's not an average of the above aspects. It's in spite of the above. That said, "Katikia Yesu" is a feel-good track that cuts across the board: My little cousin Akinyi (She's 2) was doing that cute little-girl prance as this song played at home, and I saw her dad Baba Akinyi (He's approaching retirement - don't ask how) also rocking to it.

Good job Kris.

Yours,

Olang'.

Musau Ndunda, kids are not retarded fire-breathing dragons.

Musau Ndunda, Sec-Gen, Kenya National Association of Parents:

“…3 months, children being at home, I think that is a national disaster… it would become a disaster for the students, and they will be chaotic…”

Kind sir (Yes, I’m struggling to maintain a semblance of politeness), I take offence to this statement. And I’ll keep my argument brief.

If your kids are a nuisance, Mr. Musau Ndunda, kindly stop using made-up parents to excuse your personal fears.

My parents would not hesitate to discipline me in ways they deem fit. And I respect them for that. You, clearly, need schooling.

That said, I know quite a number of said “disasters” that are pretty stand-up kids, and that I’d vouch for any day. My brothers included.

So, Mr. Musau Ndunda, if you fear “3 months, children being at home”, there are a number of options you can explore.

I present to you, Musau Ndunda, Option 1: I’m pretty certain that all churches will be keen on organising camps for your 3 month disaster.

Option 2: You can ensure that you alone have the keys to your house. You know, to keep the disaster contained.

Option 3: Prison. Seeing how you clearly consider schools containment facilities. Though I’d question your alleged parenting.

So there you have it, Mr. Musau Ndunda: Kids =/= Chaos and pandemonium. They are not retarded fire-breathing dragons. I googled it to be sure.

Contain your “disaster” or shut it.

 

On the doctors' strike: Dear KMPDU, get a script.

Capn's Log. 7th December 2011.

I read a passionate piece in support of the strike and immediately thought:

'My goodness, could the rest of you just use this post as the script?'

Said piece was written by a personal friend of mine, herself a doctor, Wahura Kanyoro:

Why I am UNASHAMED to be supporting the doctors' strike.

Did I support the strike? Do I [now] support the strike? That's mine to know. However, I did have a few thoughts to share, and here's what I had as my comment:

I'll be honest with you: You're the first person to come up with an absolutely solid piece, detailing the "why" of the strike.

It's my job to ask tough questions, as a radio host. Moreso for a breakfast show.

I was in studio with a KMPDU representative on Monday. I pressed for explanations, for the reasoning behind the strike, with the belief that I'd get a solid argument from said representative. I get your viewpoint, and how I wish I'd have had this spirited and personal - especially personal - view from said chap, then perhaps, perhaps, the "public" would have heard a better idea of what's going on.

I got nothing. Nil.

At the end of that hour, yes, it was a good chat, but nothing persuasive, nothing new. If anything, the money aspect was emphasized above and beyond the rest of what you mention. Since then, I've hardly mentioned the strike, because I didn't see the need.

This kind of clear message, what you expressed, is the kind that gets the message across.

My take: Please get your representatives to simply stop talking until they have come up with a proper communication plan.

And get me right on this: Yes, you know exactly what you are fighting for, but it's with good reason that most organisations have to have a deliberate discussion on HOW to get the message they are pushing across. Being in a field that has everything to do with the "how" rather than the "what", and having seen what is going on, I don't think anyone sat down to think about HOW the union would get its point across.

Presentation, unfortunately, will be the winning card. Bluntly: Until someone sits down and thinks about HOW the message is being put across, HOW the message is being received, and HOW to counter any misinformation, the government, with all its propaganda and machinery (and experience in playing public perception), no one will understand why doctors are "abandoning their posts". It will remain a matter of "these selfish doctors". It will remain a matter of "these guys are at home as my son is fighting for his life".

Again: Yes, I see the "why". But it took your account, your personal account, to get the message through. Which is why within 2 days of your post, it has achieved what I will comfortably refer to as viral status.

The "how" counts a lot more than the majority of KMPDU would like to admit, in my assessment.

Until someone within KMPDU sits down and actually thinks about HOW the message is being put across, this government still holds the winning card.

The answer to the "how" lies in your very words. Now here's me hoping you can get someone in KMPDU to listen.

Do read the note. Take my word for it: The perspective offered by Wahura is worth the time.

Meanwhile, KMPDU, get a script together. I don't care about your suits, or how well glossed your lips are. You have grievances, I get it. And they are valid. But as you call for your press conferences, go for your marches, do this one thing: Get a script together. 

 Otherwise you're wasting your time. And our lives.

- Marcus Olang'

 *-*-*

Capn's Plus, 8th December 2011: Just came across this as I was trolling for more on the progress of the strike vs. government position.

The Law is Broken: The doctors' strike isn't the only thing that may be unconstitutional.

Just an excerpt:

....Therefore, were we to conclude that Government is unwilling to negotiate in good faith and the health care sector continues in a state of paralysis, how does the law propose to address this stand-off?

For this answer, one would ordinarily consult the Labour Relations Act of 2009. Looking at the LRA, it appears to be a modest attempt to strike a balance between the rights and duties of both employers and employees. A critical feature to note is that the LRA talks about what it calls “essential services” defined as “a service the interruption of which would probably endanger the life of a person or the health of the population or any part of the population”. The LRA, in the Fourth Schedule, lists “hospital services” as one of the “essential services” and some would argue that this would include the services offered by members of the Kenya Medical Practioners and Dentists Union (KMPDU). Under section 78(1)(f), the LRA expressly prohibits any person to take part in a strike if the employer and employees are engaged in an essential service. This same prohibition is restated in section 81(3).

Another one worth the read.

*-*-*

Capn's Plus, 13th December 2011: I'll let Wahura speak for herself through this tweet, tagged 12th December 2011, 12.39am.

@UKenyatta @kmpdu @ovngani @wambuiwaithaka @AnyangNyongo After a 45k increase, what happens to registrars? To equipment still lacking in hospitals? To no KY jelly for VEs? To no oxygen for people in resp failure? To 5.4% of the national budget? To lack of basic drugs, fluids, instruments and gloves? What happens to the citizen who now must now continue to be treated in sub-standard facilities? What happens to doctors always bordering on or suffering depression about having to certify PREVENTABLE deaths all the time? It was never just only about the salaries and accepting a deal that only gives a fraction of the salary demanded but leaves everything else to the-oh-so-wonderfully-functioning-Kenyan-task-forces is a BETRAYAL! And you @UKenyatta should be ashamed.

"@marcusolang, what do you think of "Ita Waiter" by Madtraxx?"

Capn's Log. 2nd December 2011.

Ita wait-eeeerrr... Ita waiter... Ita waiter... Ita waiter...

Red Republik appears to be on a roll this year: From "Skamares", to "Fire Fever Lighter", and now Madtraxx is playing Santa for those who have been good (at being bad) this year:

 

 

My colleagues at OneDrive (Adelle and Roy) had it as their Hit-or-Miss track earlier on this week - the results are theirs to tell - but after that, someone informed me that Adelle put word out for folks to ask me what I think about the track.

It's rubbish.

I mean, c'mon: An entire stanza spent naming the different brands of alcoholic drinks? If I wanted to know what I want to drink, I have a menu for that.

... and, of course, good old Google.

(Although I'll give credit where it's due: He threw in a mention of KC. Keeping it real.)

I'll be open about one thing: I'm a huge fan on content in music. Which is where the likes of Juliani, Sauti Sol, A-Star, Elani, Rigga, Chizi... [To use a cliche: "Just to mention but a few"] completely have me. Excellent lyrical content, fused into superb instrument[al]s. So by default, I had to use the same yardstick to judge "Ita Waiter".

It's rubbish.

The moment I listened to this track, I had a "Madtraxx-oh-Madtraxx-where-art-thou-oh-Madtraxx" moment. For that moment, I thought the chap had lost his edge - that ingenious ability to tell an entire story in four minutes while keeping it simple.

 

"Or maybe success has gone to his head."

Here comes the "However".

I don't think "content" was the point at any point in time, as Madtraxx sat in studio doing this track. I don't think he even pretended content was a factor.

Listen to that track again.

 Ita wait-eeeerrr... Ita waiter... Ita waiter... Ita waiter...

It's not about content. It never was, never pretended to be as such.

I've mentioned this to okes around me (Good afternoon Mr. Rimbui): 2012 will be a big year for South-African-styled House in Kenya - and the House-esque feel in general. Look around:

• The (re)invasion of Stella Mwangi
• The delightful rise of Muthoni the Drummer Queen
• "Sol Generation", if you've listened to Sol Filosofia
• [Again, to use a cliche: "Just to mention but a few"]
• And, of course, the latest: Liquideep in Nairobi at Blankets and Wine this month

Madtraxx is a sharp chap, going by how he constantly reinvents himself. He sees the trend, catches the wave early. He's done just that. Again.

That said, back to the matter of content. Ladies and gentlemen, Exhibit A:

 

 

Exhibit B:

 

 

[The cliche, again: "Just to mention but a few"]

Common factor: Not much in terms of content, yes? Brilliant pieces of art nonetheless. In fact, going by my initial "Content" yardstick, these fall well within the bounds of what I referred to as rubbish.

Among the first things I said to Allan, Munene and Val when they asked me about "Ita Waiter" (correct me if I misquote myself - it happens):

"Rubbish. Don't get me wrong: It's a very catchy track, but it's rubbish..."

I stand by those words. With this disclaimer added:

"...If you're completely fixated on content."

Love it, hate it, the stage is set: It's set to be a helluva hit leading into 2012. I know people who'd prefer to peel the skin under their eyelids than listen to [some of] this new generation of music.

 

Are we heading into an era of void-of-content only validated by a loose phrase thrown in to get us singing along? Refer to Exhibits A and B, then look around.

We might already be there.

And here I am, singing along. Picturing a sea of sweaty, skimpily clad bodies and [our oft poorly ventilated] clubs - drinks in hand, waved high in the air - dancing and screaming to it. Which, I suppose, was the aim.

I can't help but feel that my mother would be disappointed in me. My aunt Sarah too. And my other aunt Anna. As well as aunt Millie.

"Just to mention but a few."

Ita wait-eeeerrr... Ita waiter... Ita waiter... Ita waiter...

 

-Olang' M.

 

The Test: An attestant's account.

Capn's Log. 1st December 2011.

“Good morning Nairobi! Thank you for joining me this morning on your Number 1 station for local and urban hits, on the 1^st of December 2011; this is Marcus Olang’ with you on the OneBreakfast…”

Usually a breeze, on any other day. This was anything but.

“Do you want to share the result with me?”

*-*-*

Sitting in the reception, I can’t help but soak in my own vanity.

‘I look like the definition of confidence.’ I almost pop my arm out of its socket patting myself on the back. I like my arm the way it is – though I wouldn’t mind adding a bit more muscle – so I stop congratulating myself for my confidence and go back to my emails.

“Olang’.”

'So much for my confidence,' I think, as I walk into the office.

I know the system. I’ve been here before. Several times. Heck, I do this at least twice every year. C’mon man, it’ll be a breeze.

As my fist clenches in tension, I realize that it’s the same drill: I know I made no mistakes, but for some inexplicable reason, my face turns into a sea of sweat, my armpits moist masses of manly musk.

Only this time, I had made a mistake. That’s if we don’t count the other two.

As I sit down, Susan tries to make me feel comfortable. She definitely had a lot of experience. I can’t disappoint her. I play along.

“How many sexual partners have you had…”

It’s mechanical for me, answering the questions. Which means my mind has the time to go back to the reception. Specifically, the people I saw at reception.

I’m certain I saw her at the Kudishnyao. I’m a sad case with faces – even worse with names – but for some reason, she stuck. Seems she didn’t recognize me as we sat facing each other. Or we both did an excellent job at acting. What’s her story?

Questionnaire done. Part 2 of counselling  by Susan before she brings out the needle. She’s truly a beauty. Maybe… Get thee behind me Satan.

As she explains what’s about to happen, I face the thought: What if…?

I find myself wondering about what a life with HIV is like. Suddenly, Assumpta Wagura’s articles – the same ones I keep reading in passing – come into sharp focus. How does she do it? How does she project that aura of strength and positivity?

Susan holds my middle finger, dabs it with moist cotton wool, and then the prick. I watch as the blood grow into a ball around the puncture. And there’s the infamous white stick.

10 minutes before the magic lines appear.

Susan and I continue in a light-hearted, content-laden chat just as soon as she places the test kit on a table to my right. My mind remains restless. My heel meets the ground in nervous rhythm.

Then the drugs. Good grief, I loathe drugs. Except caffeine. Caffeine’s good. I have an unparalleled desire to keep all those pills out of my life. The little blue one included.

But what if…? Would I have to take that ARV combination? Of course I would. As is the case with quite a number of people.

What of these folks living with HIV?

I had done a bit of digging [on Google]: Funding for matters related to HIV – research and treatment – has been dropping since 2010. Someone will need to pay [more] for their ARV regime. Fewer awareness campaigns. Fewer free government-issue condoms strewn all over university hostel grounds perhaps. Preferably used.

Wait. Even if the cash was there, would we pay attention? I remember a tweet from a friend of mine, Mugambi:

"@ItsMugambi: @Maximilus @cooxie02 @MTVShuga We’re all messaged out, I think. There’s still a pervasive it-won’t-happen-to-me buffer. & of course, apathy."

These two things considered, I’m led to a dark conclusion. Which I, predictably, tweeted:

"My crystal ball tells me Kenya will see a jump in HIV number 2012 – 2013."

I silently pray I’m wrong.

“So I think it’s done. I hope you’re ready,” I hear Susan saying. “Do you want to look at it yourself, or do I do it with you?”

I smile at her offer of support, a truly welcoming look on her face. “I’ll have a look.”

I get up, walk over to the table on which she placed the test kit.

I hear Susan’s voice behind me:

“Do you want to share the result with me?”

*-*-*

I wonder whether Jacob Zuma’s shower technique works though…

-Olang' M.