In My Head

It's 1.33 a.m. Late, in my books. I will probably miss early Mass tomorrow and go for the noon one. Mathe calls it the mass for lazy/rich people. Some years ago it was the mass for the drunkards and something else I can't remember.

Insomnia? No, I love sleep as much as sleep loves me. I've never had an issue with insomnia.

So why am I awake? Well, I've been reading...before that I was watching something-Shuga Naija to be specific. 2 episodes out of curiosity on whether it was done as well as the Lupita one. Pssst! Lupita means a small star. Nyota ndogo...hehe!

Done with reading poetry (Redscar is an accomplished author??), short stories and online articles on topics ranging from Psychology (4 paragraphs then moved on) to the usual '14 ways to judge a good business idea'. Now that I've decided to put up a post, I'm thinking.

I'm thinking about this writer who has the ability to weave different characters from real life into fictional works; turning women into men and stuff. I have all along suspected it, but now I'm sure. The realization makes me want to call and ask, but then, well...it's past the hour where a man would just want to find out about a literary matter.

I'm thinking about many different paths crossing, no...criss-crossing each other in the near future and how that will pan out.

From such to things as mundane as this update (by Isaac Mugunda) gnawing at the seams of my brain. The Kenya Premier Leagues is getting more interesting with teams booking/searching for stadiums in different counties. Sofapaka has Machakos county. I wonder how that will affect the politics and football in our country. The EPL hasn't been this competitive in a long, long while. I guess that's a good thing. GGMU!

I'm thinking about this conversation on the need for money and whether we are slaves to money. This was sparked by two separate but related debates. One with Kenita at the arboretum-sawasawafest has returned home- and the other on Etta's wall.

I'm thinking about a dark,rich purple tie and a black shirt.

I'm thinking about how irritating this repetition might be to whoever is reading this.

Oh, and I chanced upon this and it perfectly captures one of my greatest fears. I had, till I read this, never found a way of expressing this very real fear to me. It haunts every little thing I do and everytime I reflect on my achievements and failures, I can't get this thought out of my head. Here it goes:

I will never be a brain surgeon, and I will never play the piano like Glenn Gould.
But what keeps me up late at night, and constantly gives me reason to fret, is this: I don’t know what I don’t know. There are universes of things out there — ideas, philosophies, songs, subtleties, facts, emotions — that exist but of which I am totally and thoroughly unaware. This makes me very uncomfortable. I find that the only way to find out the fuller extent of what I don’t know is for someone to tell me, teach me or show me, and then open my eyes to this bit of information, knowledge, or life experience that I, sadly, never before considered.
Afterward, I find something odd happens. I find what I have just learned is suddenly everywhere: on billboards or in the newspaper or SMACK: Right in front of me, and I can’t help but shake my head and speculate how and why I never saw or knew this particular thing before. And I begin to wonder if I could be any different, smarter, or more interesting had I discovered it when everyone else in the world found out about this particular obvious thing. I have been thinking a lot about these first discoveries and also those chance encounters: those elusive happenstances that often lead to defining moments in our lives.
[…]
I once read that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I fundamentally disagree with this idea. I think that doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of hope. We might keep making mistakes but the struggle gives us a sense of empathy and connectivity that we would not experience otherwise. I believe this empathy improves our ability to see the unseen and better know the unknown.
Lives are shaped by chance encounters and by discovering things that we don’t know that we don’t know. The arc of a life is a circuitous one. … In the grand scheme of things, everything we do is an experiment, the outcome of which is unknown.
You never know when a typical life will be anything but, and you won’t know if you are rewriting history, or rewriting the future, until the writing is complete.
This, just this, I am comfortable not knowing.

She's called Debbie Millman and the book, Look Both Ways.

I had a great year! I'm good. I'm okay. I am resting, I'm sure something will happen...I just don't know when or how bad it will be. C'est la vie!. Goodnight!

Elani, Alliance and Maize

If I start most of my statements with 'Now...' just know that I went to State House Primary School for 2 terms within which time I managed to acquire and entrench the habit which was used by the principal, sorry, the headmaster at the time.

Now, who remembers the days when you'd pass by Alliance Francaise and find groups of Nairobian post-high school lads and lasses bumming with guitars and voices? When Sheesha, Weed and Blue Moon and Supras were comparatively less popular?

Remember when every two months, a new band existed with no concert but a fistful of fans who gathered at Alliance on Fridays to listen to some urban Afro something-fusion,soul,pop,acoustic etc? Only thing is that these fans weren't specific. They would attend all Afrofusion concerts. They had the downlow on where Aziza, Sauti Sol and Dela were performing at any one time...kwanza the free ones.

They were loyal and if anyone needed to sip something frothy, they'd head to Mwenda's (before Qube) and then head home.

On one of these chilly evenings, I found Chweya and Meshack with a guitar.

'Hebu sikizeni hii song. Imeandikwa tu leo'

That would be Elani's Brian Chweya. He was still working on the verses, but the chorus was definite. It went,

'Mahindiii, Mahindiii, Raia wanataka unga ya ugali...'

The progression was/is simple but it touched some nerve that still throbs to date whenever I hear the song.

They later finished the chorus, cut the loose strings hanging around it, made sure the bottom was hemmed and it now features every time they go on stage. Mahindi is about how maize is a core part of the country and its people. Maize is that one thread that cuts across every hill, plain and river. From Turkana to Rongai. More than just the literal meaning, it is symbolic.

The guy in Buruburu with his iPad waits for maize-flour to get to the Tuskys in Phase 3 and it is all dependent on some farmer in Kitale with a stub of grass in his mouth. None can do without the other. Maybe it should be used as the theme song for the #WeAreOne campaign. (pauses to lq)

In the video that refused to upload, look out for the break after the transposition after the bridge. I love it especially because of the harmony change-I think they make it a 7nth. It makes me go kuku everytime I hear it. So kuku that I heard it today and typed this in the spur of the moment.

They have a single out (Jana Usiku) and are launching an album on December the 6th at the Alliance Francaise gardens. Tupatane huko. For now, want a bite? Here goes:

ELANI-MAHINDI video

No Offence, You Might Be Blonde

It is cool to be deep these days. Now, without punctuation that statement makes no sense. So here goes: It is cool (hip) to be 'deep' (be a critical thinker) these days. Now, without clarification, that statement fails to convey my exact sentiments. So once again: It is cool to seem 'deep' nowadays. Now, without further ado I'll stop bsing you and get on with it.

I found myself watching the popular series, Crossing Lines. It stars William Fichtner. For the old souls who don't follow red carpet updates (Sharon, don't point a finger), this was the cop in Prison Break who had Scoffield cornered at every turn. He was and is great, especially at acting characters who are sharp, damaged and drugged. The last two go together.

Oh, Crossing Lines has the ICC somewhere and I bet this might explains why Kenyans are bonding with its themes. Speaking of which, it is interesting how for a movie to hit in America (even if the whole point is to have a European elite police unit), the lead role has to be given to one of their cocky types. This of course excludes the Harry Porter movies.

As I was saying... I watched, finished then switched off the laptop and went to sleep.

Rewind Selector!

I'm watching then there's this part where one of the ladies (the one with the rough, hoarse, coughy voice that we all call sexy) asks this other guy-the tech guy-something. Poleni, I'm sorry I watched it a month ago and I don't remember the characters' names.

So she goes,
'No offence but...'

He interrupts with,
'How come that statement is always followed by something offensive?'

At this point I watch the 'deep' ones go to their FB pages and post this. Don't worry, I was once like you. What happened? Now we dive. :)

Saying 'no offence but you are too much of a wuss to reason' is preparing your mind to critically analyse that statement OBJECTIVELY. What the person is telling you is that they are, incapable as it is, consciously setting aside their biases and giving you an honest opinion or reading of the facts.

That statement actually means, 'I am about to say something offensive without intending to offend you' so you can't say 'How come it's followed by something offensive??' THAT WAS THE POINT! It's like saying how comes when someone says 'Come' it's always followed by 'Here'?

I may be wrong but I think there is no really big deal when I say, 'with all due respect sir, you are being irrational' so long as I say it with respect :)

*********

I have a headache! Wah! Remember in Mofaya when Chizi explains how in there country, the number of Wahs are directly correlated to the intensity of shock/suprise/excitement/pain. This headache actually warrants two, no three Wahs!

So long folks!

Top Three Anthems

One, my apologies for the silence. The plan was to have at least two posts every month. My laptop fell face-first so I've been bila screen and net. But half of that has been sorted...or not!

We got robbed and the laptop mentioned above took a trip, hands and feet tied with sisal rope and since the screen was shattered I felt nothing. I did feel something! That was my first baby. Enehu, c'est la vie.

Moving on swiftly...

I'm all for musicians coming together to create music specifically for social awareness. Of course, knowing the whiner me, I have an issue with boring songs forced down the ears of Kenyan listeners in the name of a good course. Poor production/music/video quality funded by NGOs who don't bother on getting something worth their money.

I could cite many bad examples but I'll be positive and say these three videos have stood out in terms of quality and itendidy, as my Lunje friends would have it.

1.SIMAMA

I first saw this video on the Beat way back in 2008 when I had just started campo. The beat caught my attention for two reasons, it fits my afrocentric belief that our influences (hiphop/ragga) should not wipe our own identity. We should not create music that does not have our own 'feel'. This beat does. The video was short live at the performance, which I've just found out was at the godown.

The people nodding look shady but Atemi's voice stands out besides the fact that she is just doing ad libs. Jimw@at was in it. Whatever happened to him.

p.s. some guy in the background is off, but its okay, he can't be heard.

2. BWANA MKUBWA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTD6-IRjH_I

Eric Wainaina and the Lwanda cast crew did great on this one. Listen out for the bridge where Atemi goes 'talk, talk, talkiiiing'. My bro and I wait for that part. I found another favourite recently though. After the bridge listen out for the background vocalists singing 'all we want to say' and Owiyoo's ad lib which doesn't just blend in but carries it to some other place. At least to me.

NB. The tune has been used in Orutu Special (Love and Protest, the album) which I think dwarfs in comparison to this 'activism' anthem.

3. WAKENYA PAMOJA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1y7O857Q1jk

The country was up in smoke. It was January, 2008. I was in the house (Parklands at the time) and I couldn't go to town or anywhere really. I had to wait for months for school to reopen. I felt like I was being held hostage. This feeling was forgotten whenever I heard gunshots being fired  from some slum across the ridge, sides za Huruma I think.

This song would move me and I felt like it carried that season.
Sounds jerky when I listen to it now, but it was worth the effort. Listen out for the chorus where Pete Odera gets to match her vocals with Eunice Njeri who gives it everything as always. The power-duo lead it into the transposition and leave the song to soar.

For recent 'tragedies', we've fallen back on songs that already exist to rally people to unite and act. We Are the World during the Kenyans for Kenya drive and Daima Mkenya too. Much as I love these two songs, they were not created to fit the need at the time and therefore should not, in my humble (hehe) view be included in this list.

The next time you listen to an 'anthem' as I'd like to call them, ask yourself whether it sounds thought out or hurriedly put together. I am kinda disappointed that we don't have a 50-year celebration anthem for this year.

P.S. As I type this, Kaligraph has released a #WeAreOne video. What d'you think? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUAVN40sZx4&sns=fb

P.P.S. I'll try be more consistent in my posts from now on.

Pros and Cons

On strange lairs,
I fall fast
But awake with the cock.
While on mine own,
Temptation finds an immovable
Rock.
Dare I lay to stretch,
And I awake with the lizard.

David Garibaldi. blackartdepot.com

bodo.2013

Weak Fences and Greener Grass

‘So he said that’s the reason he can’t make it today. He also said that you won’t understand.’

He was staring down at the ochunglo crawling up the wooden wall of the shed next to Kate’s mother’s house.

She was mad. Clearly. She clicked, ‘Kwani what’s...argh! Then why did he bother telling me to wait for him?!’

Silence. The things Jimi made him endure. He had already missed practice at their church since he had to stay and listen to Kate vent. He couldn’t just leave her like that. And by the time he got to church, the team would have gone through the praise songs and half the worship songs in the list he had in his phone.

He’d hopefully catch them walking home all excited about that day’s practice and catching up on each other’s weeks. Or having a word with Mwas, their mentor.

‘What the hell’s wrong with HIM?!’

By now Kate had sat down. 

Her demeanour and reactions did not match. People don’t shout while making themselves comfortable on cold cement stairs while picking up a Tropical sweet wrapper blown by the wind. 

He thought of leaving her, walking off since his job as messenger was done.

‘You know, you are not like him at all Kwame.’ She sighed and started twisting the wrapper in her hand before turning to face him.

He hadn’t expected that so he had to change the angle of his body. He ended up in a weird pose. His mind, wanting to leave had ordered the body to turn until she dropped the bombshell and now it hang and left the torso to figure out for itself what to do. 

‘A-m...’ he muttered. That wasn’t even a word.

She did not make it any easier, just staring. Waiting.

‘Oh No. Not this,’ he thought to himself.

It was getting dark. He needed to go. Now. So he decided to tell her,’ Ummm...we can’t be more than this.’

But instead said,’ Ummm...he said he’ll make it up to you on Tuesday when you guys hook up at the Barn, as you always do.’

Before she could reply, that Emmy Kosgei ringtone broke the silence.

Glancing at her, hoping that glance communicated his goodbye, he picked the call.

‘Hey, mmefika wapi?... We wacha!... By the way umebeat,.. Zii, nacome...’

On Our Own

I was pissed the other day (ain’t I always?) when a friend of mine told me about ex-TPF musicians who were complaining about how their kind of music is not appreciated out there. I felt, as I always do when they do follow-ups on ex-TPF superstars. A lot has been written about TPF that I won’t get into, other than this one bit.

How do you end up opting to become a sales assistant at a Juacali joint in Muthurwa two years after you swore on national television that you believe music is your dream? Better yet, TPF is your dream come true? How?

As you complain do you ever wonder how other musicians out there-Harry Kimani, Abbi Nyinza, Sautisol ever made it? None of them ever started out with as much money, as much fame and most important networks as you do. None.

Why can’t they do what other people do? When we realized that sometimes in this industry if you have no godfathers no one will create a name for you we went out on our own. Organising TwendeLele1 made us realize that it is not as hard as it seems. Your friends and family will support you if you get a venue, decent sound and green grass for a gig. That is all.

To make it worse, yes worse, these ex-TPF people already have a name out there that the lowliest restaurant will want to sponsor as a venue. And even if they are not, if this was your dream there is no excuse. At all.

Kenyans/Nairobians are listening to the same crap everyday on radio. They look up to you for that different taste that they haven’t heard before. They (who are looking for an alternative to fm stations' music) can be found at Open Mic events and Poetry nights. They can be found at weddings and TV shows. They can be found when you curtain-raise at the next Blankets and Wine. They are there at your friend’s album launch. 

There is no excuse. If this was your dream, that is.

If you support DIY musicians, check out what Mumala and the Penya Academy musicians are doing at Dass every month at the Gig Market Facebook page.

 

The Women in My Life

I suckled for only 3 months. TMI. I know. After those three months, my mother endured a ride that probably took 12 hours to Kamato Village in Lambwe Valley. Chances are you have no idea where that is. But that is where my grandmother raised me for those first few years. I later joined my bro in Nairobi-about 3 years later.

Mathe would endure the 15 km walk from the main road to get to my Dani’s place. She would carry my bro and I would walk. I was the elder one. Plus you did not argue, or attempt to, with my mum. You did not nudge at her dress for sweets or toys. If she wants to, if she can, she will buy it. If she doesn’t then there is a good reason for that.

If you made a mistake it was the slippers. That blue Bata slipper was more painful if it was already worn out with the lose straps hanging.  Kinda like a whip with many strips.

I lived with my aunt in Bungoma between class 3 and 6. To me it still feels like a lifetime. She was mistreated at work because she was from another tribe-not one of them and a woman at that. She therefore saw men get promoted and get pay rises. She had her own Chill (who was special) and Austin was on the other way.

She was unmarried. 

Yet she struggled to keep it all together. I never saw her cry. I’ve never seen her cry. I’ve never seen my mother, or even my grandmother cry. 

So my aunt raised her sister’s kids and her own. 

We later moved to Nairobi and stayed with a couple of relatives. Being a single mum who has been sacked from a government hospital because you are a foreigner has its downside.

Mathe hustled for jobs(locums). A jobless doctor. Yap. She spent time walking through ministry doors and private hospital corridors trying to get there. But she couldn’t answer the one question. Why were you fired? Ok, she could but you know how jittery employers are.

She turned to prayer. My mother prayed. This is the only time my mother cries. She would visit us at my aunt’s and takes us for prayer walks. We, I would treasure these moments. They were random. Sometimes after every 3 months, sometimes after 8.

Am I whining about my life? No. I was a playful kid. I would be at the football field in Nzoia Sugar Primary School till my body couldn’t take it any more. I would ‘steal’ a cane or two from the many plantations.

Back to her. So, as she hustled we lived. I only heard her mention yesterday that she used to walk from Bukembe to Nandolia-then to Upperstaff when she visited.

She feared we would ask questions. I did ask once when I was in class 2. I felt the pain and even more the confusion in her voice and decided to spare her the agony. Maybe later on.

At Mama Alus’s place my cousins were the ones who defined my life. To me the place was far-flung. Ruiru. Enehu, their own internal workings formed me. Betty, Val took care of the house and the rest played. Even Dorcas and Florence.

Mathe finally got into M.P Shah and the family reunited. The story after that is for another day.

I can’t end without mentioning Pet, my deaf aunt who I loved and still do so much. She cooked omena daily for us during the 1996/7 famine that ravaged the country. My aunt was admitted at the time. Pet was in high school.

Val has been like a younger sister that I consider my agemate sometimes. She matured fast. I guess it’s a first born thing.

Barbra could/can sing. She opened me up to a different world musically by being herself. Musically expressive.

Jackie. Well, about Jackie I will mention if/when she says yes to my proposal.

There are more. To all of them, Happy International Women’s Day!

Why They Vote for a Ukrainian President

I have to switch the music player before I start typing this. #np Emeli Sande-Read all about it. I used to think I work best with music in the background till I started doing late nights. I then discovered that my mind involuntarily listens to the lyrics and can’t therefore focus on what I type.

The country voted yesterday. We are waiting for results. As expected, all our talk of a non-tribal Kenya is not reflected-as expected. Question; is that really a bad thing as we claim it is?

Allow me to use two arguments or ways of looking at it.

My uncle, Chris, once mentioned that some professor explained this to them when he was still in campo. You know those professors, old with some well-nurtured goatee and cynical about anything and everything? Yap, those ones. 

Le professeur had this to say. Think about it, before the scramble and partition for Africa, what we call tribes were actually nations. Minus the partition that meant we now had Kenyan Somalis and Somali Somalis, Kenyan Luos and Tanzanian Luos etc, with time they would have formed states-as countries like Europe did.

The point being; the tutiny fragments of land called countries in Europe are ‘tribes’ in the African sense. We wouldn’t have to worry about tribalism if we had a Kikuyu country and Buganda country etc. 

Map of Europe

The second way of looking at it is based on this other story my other uncle Jim will tell you (probably repeatedly) if you ever end up discussing early Kenya. Tom Mboya is the one who went to this Kadu guy...ummm...Ronald Ngala (my former house) and convinced him last minute that the nation needs to vote for Kanu/Kenyatta.

What he told them was, ‘One, you guys are going to lose either way. Two, therefore join the winning team and we discuss the issues you raise.’

My understanding of this ‘meeting in the dark’ is...

Who best understands the needs of people in Eldoret? Ruto, the farmer who grew up there or X who did not? When going to campaign to the different tribal blocs, methinks a leader should convince those people that he will take care of THEIR issues. Not national ones.

It doesn’t matter whether you are campaigning on a non-tribal ticket, just show that you understand/can sort out the issues of the sugarcane farmer in Bungoma much better than Wetangula can.

People vote on tribal basis because it is tribal leaders who speak their language understand them. Otherwise hii mambo ya voting based on national issues ni kudanganyana till next year but 10.

P.S. You guys voted on my birthday :-) I honestly don’t know why that makes me happy.