The Real Hard Working Kenyans Who Never Complain!

The past four months have been quiet hard for ordinary Kenyans. A recent report released paint Kenya as the saddest place to live on earth. But so what? The economy, the appreciating dollar, the weakening shilling, the high fuel and food prices, constant strikes and demonstrations, the useless politicians et al have pushed families, as the journalist would say, to the edge of despair. How one can remain on that edge for five months without falling off is anyone’s guess.

So fuel prices have gone up? Those who own cars are not complaining. Food prices have skyrocketed? Still commodities literally fly off the shelves. Apparently everyone in Kenya is underpaid. Strikes have become the norm. Still the real hard working Kenyans are not complaining. City residents are not complaining!

I love Kenya. It is a beautiful country with hard working resilient people who despite the economic crunch still manage to survive. They live in gated communities with 24 hour security from the British owned G4S. They hear of insecurity when BBC or CNN reports of a series of carjacking in the country. Their vehicles are protected and satellite-monitored by Track It. They would sometimes read in the Daily Nation of killings and violence. On a normal afternoon, they usually enjoy the monsoon windy breeze from the second floor balcony of their homes sipping a scotch whisky imported from the UK. They are fully subscribed to the full bouquet of DSTV and they pay an annual subscription in dollars. The US presidential debates are never missed. If they are busy, they will have it recorded.

They import top of the range vehicles from Japan and don immaculate Imani suits from Turkey. Their women spot top designer dresses fresh from Milan or New York Fashion shows. They would have Christian Dior Fur coats, Jimmy Choos shoes, Gucci handbags and Channel sunglasses. They still attend high end parties at Cray Fish Camp in Naivasha and the older ones prefer conservative locations like Windsor. They still drink expensive 15 year old vintage drinks straight from Scottish cellars and wineries.

They own companies or are top dogs in the civil service. The titles from their business cards are CEO, CFO or COO. The lowly among the group would be GMs or EDs. Some work for the UN, Care International or World Vision. The flight mileage is impressive. Then there are the wealthy businessmen! They are the only group referred as such in the country. If you own a successful business and you are not of this group the press would refer to you as a city trader or a popular businessman. Never wealthy! That term was for the few

Their children attend international schools in Kenya. They have to be exposed to the international market they would say. Plus it gave them something to talk about and an opportunity to meet during school plays and art galleries. Notable schools would be Braeburn, Brookhouse and possibly Hillcrest. After such exposure they would never send their kids to Nairobi or Maseno University. Between the lecturer’s strike and students’ unrest chances of their children finishing university at the acceptable international age of 21 years are slim. The UK is the only chance of quality and competitive education. Notable institutions include the famous triad: Oxford, Cambridge or LSE where they too attended and are in the convocation team. For a countryside feel, University of Manchester is an option where an old friend is the MP or Leeds University where his brother emigrated immediately after the coup in 1982.

 During weekends, especially Saturdays, you will see men in shorts and open shoes, gold chains and rings  with Chanel sunglasses and car keys dangling from their hands at Olepolos in Ngong roasting goat meat watching Manchester United devour Arsenal. Along the dusty road an array of heavy machinery would be parked. From Range Rovers to Mark II’s, Mercedes Benz to Audis. An odd Subaru would be spotted but rare is the spectacle. Often times the Subaru would have a number plate without a letter after the numbers: KYY 321. A vintage they would call it. It was gift from the British colonial secretary to the grandfather whose will dictated it remains in the family. The dons would be spotted dropping in with choppers with news reporters in tow. Sometimes they would all troop to the coast and detoxify after a week of hard work building the nation. Of course they would never drive down to the coast. Fuel prices have skyrocketed. They would fly with Fly 540 where they have a stake. They would never fly with Jet Link. They lack a full bar onboard they say. International flights are of course KLM or Qatar Airways. Kenya Airways services are poor.

Tired of travelling out of town, they would all troop to the private members clubs or the golf resorts in the city. Never would you see them tee off at the greens, they would be in the study discussing a matter of national importance. Of course the appreciating shilling and how to mitigate that. The top bankers would be invited to shed light on the same: How to beat the system, how to make a kill and things like that. The banker is not part of the group, he is simply an invited guest and he would be too eager to please after being served drinks worth his suit. When spotted at the lawns, either the sun is beautiful and they need to bask or there is a championship organized by one of their companies and they had to make an appearance.

Women would be in more serene and peaceful suburbia like Karen or Muthaiga either attending a chama meeting or in spas and beauty parlors getting pimped for the week.  Massage, manicures, pedicures, facials and scrubbing would be the norm of course with wine tasting. They would take time to update themselves on their social circle. Like who flew to Dubai for shopping, who went to China on the Barclays Bank business trip, who was it who is having an affair with his gardener. Precious times they call it. It was a ritual actually. No one misses such gatherings at the spa which was owned by one of them. Even if they did not need a facial, they still came. Little children were left at the day care that charged 2, 500 an hour. The meetings at the spa took no less than 6 hours.

Their children, who had either finished masters in Cambridge or are awaiting admission, would be spotted in high end restaurants with top of the range vehicles. Mostly it would be a convertible sports car or a Hummer with loud music blaring. During the night, they would hang out in groups of course drinking either a Malibu or a J & B. The conservatives among them, those still in school, would be seen with a Blue Label or in the extreme cases a Scotch and Soda. At dawn, they would race back home. With no traffic, the need to practice rally driving become strong. Normally the city does not provide such opportunities and going upcountry is out of the question. There is school and yes the city. Sometimes they would cause an accident but normally it would be reported as a minor incident. In very rare cases they would get into a fight and maybe shoot each other. Daring acts can be drawing of a Persian sword 2,000 years old whose brightness alone can make you go blind.

Sometimes the boys would go out of town. In Malindi or Naivasha. They would go as usual in a group. In the middle of the night in Lake Naivasha, they would form a circle with their loud music blaring cars with the headlights on and dance while drinking. Normally they would be in the company of ladies beneath their social status. You will hear of a Shiro, Wamboi or Njeri. You will never see their sisters in that group. The girls are of course abroad studying or holidaying. Their families know each other; they can never date themselves unless it is marriage bound which is arranged of course.

On Sunday husband and wife will get into matching gears with small kids in tow, often a boy and girl, troop into the car and head to church. The older kids would not be in the company. They are either nursing hangovers or injuries or both. Normally the service would be along Valley Road. Conservatives would go to conservative churches. The Baptist Church along Ngong Road or the ACK. The message that day would be about spoiling yourself, because you deserve it, they would say. They never carry bibles, what for and iPads have bible applications. It was faster and efficient. With an iPad in hand, and for those who cannot afford, the projector would be live with bible verses, your work is to listen to the word. Thank God for the iPad, how would we have known where Habakkuk was in the bible? Is it in the New or Old Testament they would ask. Who cares, iPad rule.

In the afternoon they would visit each other to check on the family. Normally a calendar is drawn for that. One would know 2 months in advance that he would be hosting a Sunday get together. Chances are there are no relatives among the clan. Just friends who met in London while studying or in the civil service where they worked their way up. The younger generation present would be those who married within the clan because he was an Oxford surgeon and she was Harvard economist. Chances are they do not live in the country but just flew in for the afternoon meeting. The clan is important.

The conversation would be about the prime property in Kiambu that needs to be developed, the economic prospects of Uchumi supermarket and the court case surrounding the coastal land that a rogue Italian wants to erect a multibillion hotel. They would never allow it. Apparently the hotel would block the sun from accessing the Villa Park Resort that they own as a clan. They also claim it would block the view of the ocean from the balcony of the resort. The sitting judge for the case is the current chairperson for the clan and has a major stake in the resort through his companies of course.

After the meeting, they would troop back home for another week of nation building after promising to meet the next weekend.

Forget the striking doctors or lecturers who earn peanuts, these are the real hard working Kenyans who work tirelessly work for the nation and they never complain!

THE NIGHT BEFORE NEW YEAR

It was at 12:02 AM on the 1st of January 2011, seated with my brother Brian, his friend Victor and my friend Beverly at a private booth in Lisbon club in Kisii town I remember using my phone to write the resolutions for this year. Ok, they stole the phone 20 minutes later but I still remember the resolutions. The night had gone on well with Nyambane the popular comedian and now corporate honcho dropped by to say hello. We had met earlier and he had promised to ‘treat’ us. Treating he did, two chilled bottles of Drostdy Hof Merlot count as that. He was calling it a night, or morning, depending on whether you are an optimist or pessimist and he came to wish us well in the New Year. We thanked him for the ‘treat’ and promised to return the favor. He smiled, we did too. I think we all knew that it may never come to pass. If we bump into him this New Year again, he will still treat us, it’s been a year since we met.

It was my last year of college, actually my last semester. It was to be a different year for me. As an optimist, it looked promising. I had a trip to Tanzania to organize for our graduating class, I had a paper for a conference to write, I had a paper for a conference to present, I had a school to train for Drama Festivals, I had a training to attend in Equatorial Guinea, I had a conference to attend in Nairobi, I had…. OK not all of that was apparent at that wee hour of the morning, but most of it was. It was totally my year and I was going to rock it.

So for the first time, I broke away from the norm and made actual and practical resolutions. I never went for the classic resolutions: to write a book, climb a mountain, learn a foreign language, enjoy life more (what the hell!), and visit relatives’ bla bla bla. No, I chose to be philosophical, to be earthy, and to be me.
This is what I typed in that particular Nokia 2630 Classic which those goons helped themselves with. I like to think that phone was my New Year’s gift to them. It’s amazing, considering the time and place, I still remember all the resolutions... Ok most: Get a girlfriend; write her sweet notes, text her lovey dovey texts. This was important for my future political career. I knew it would pay off later. I promised to be nice to people, especially ladies. Again, for my political prospects I needed this. It was not that they were to be my support base or I was not nice at the moment; no I wanted to practice early in life.

This was my last year in college, I needed to study hard. I have been studying all along, but my people have a saying that the pot usually breaks at the door. I wanted a first class degree, because I wanted a car. I had made a pact with my parents, with my siblings being witnesses, that if I get a first class degree I am getting a new ride.

It isn’t cool, I wrote, not to have money in the pocket or at the bank. Ok HELB gave me some coins that were not enough by the way, I needed more. Despite the fact I never used that money to pay school or accommodation fees. Here is why: While I was about to sit my national examinations in 2005, I made a pact (again) with my parents. If I qualify to the university, they are paying for everything, including my semester shopping and the government loan was all mine to impress women and enjoy life. I held my end of the bargain, they did too. But my ambitions were higher. So in 2011, I promised myself to have at least 4 very close friends who can lend me an incredible amount of cash without having to know why I need it. It was business, I reasoned.

For my political career and safe survival once out of the university, I needed new and powerful contacts that would come to my rescue without having to call my parents. Reading Robert Greene’s ’48 Laws of Power’ taught me the power of the right people at the right time. I must know at least one of each of the following, and on very good and personal terms. A senior police officer, the local chief, a magistrate, a lawyer, a doctor, a proprietor of a good bar, someone who works for customs and or immigration. A police officer would come in handy if I get arrested most probably at night while out clubbing. Also if a close friend is in trouble. All politics is local, never underestimate the local chief. His services would come in handy during government activities. He is the man to watch. The magistrate was incase my lawyer friend fails to get me out of trouble. In politics you have to look at all angles. A good doctor is obvious and more so if I contract such ailments that my parents needed not to know. A bar owner was necessary if I am to treat my local boys with the usual and am low on cash. My book needed to be open. Someone in customs and immigration were necessary for reasons best left unsaid. This is Kenya and yes you have to do what you have to do.

Finally, I had to be true to myself. I can’t make everyone happy, I can’t live for anyone, not even Dad, Mum or my siblings. One final resolution: God is important. I won’t live forever. One day I will have to justify my life to Him. Well this last resolution has been constant in my annual resolutions for as long I can remember. And I have been doing well so far.

So on this chilly and drizzling evening seated at the counter of Tanagers restaurant chatting up the Chinese (or Thai, I can’t tell) owner, I look back at the year past. Indeed it has been a great year, totally my year. The highlights were the contacts I got and still retain.

I was friends and still am good friends with a very senior police officer. Funny story how we met. My elder was nabbed for ‘aimless loitering at ungodly hours’ and my Dad and I had gone to bail him out the next morning. Apparently the swoop was ordered by the Officer Commanding Station (OCS) and he supervised it himself never mind at such ungodly hours. He was new in town. So we had to go to his office. He ordered my Frank, my brother, to be brought to his office and started lecturing him on how irresponsible it is to walk at night. I thought he meant dangerous but I never dared ask. My Dad naturally sided with the officer and even suggested caning my brother. The officer asked who I was and if am in school. I told him Frank’s follower brother and am in the university. His face lit up and asked which university. Moi University, I said. He stood up smiling while asking which campus. I told him and the rest they say is history. Apparently his daughter had been admitted to my university and being new in town he wished to know someone who would guide he daughter in the harsh life that is the university. ‘Guiding’ her I did. We became friends since. I have never been arrested while at home and neither of my friends has. One time my younger brother’s friends were home and they got arrested. I was not home, I cannot remember where. Brian called me and told me of the situation. Being at night, I could not call the OCS but I called Linda, her daughter. As expected they were released in the morning. Let them have a jail experience for the night, father told daughter who told me. Every time I am home we meet over drinks. Despite my parent’s objection, he was the only ‘family friend’ who attended my graduation. I am serious about networks you know.

The local chief is always on my speed dial. How I met him I cannot recall. But we are friends.

I have several lawyer friends who double up as childhood or simply hood friends. But I was not too particular about them. I do not trust friends too much. Trust everyone only so much. Only get betrayed once, Daddy tells me always. So I have a few lawyers on my side. A very wise man once said good lawyers know the law but only great lawyers know the judge. I will be smarter if I knew a magistrate or too. I met the local magistrate at a party I was invited by the OCS in May. The officer’s eldest son was flying out of the country for further studies. Justice John Omondi was his name. A very dignified fellow. After the party, the seniors retreated to the local club for a few drinks. Since a magistrate was among them, how could I miss the opportunity? Justice Ochieng, I knew would be a great friend once we engaged in a conversation on the judicial system in Kenya. Plus he had my taste of drinks too: Gin and Tonic on the rocks and a dash of lemon. Let’s just say the good Justice liked to have a drink while engaging in an intellectual conversation. I supplied both, and still do. The lawyer and magistrate have not been useful so far. I have not been involved in any crime or felony. I am hoping not be in one but I feel secure knowing am covered.

I have a doctor friend and for obvious reasons. I am in the good books of a few local bar owners. They have both come in handy and so far so good.

I got a guy, actually guys, who worked in the customs and immigration during the Tanzania trip. It was not easy though. We arrived at the border at 11 am and we could have crossed had it not been for the fact that we did not have Yellow Fever certificates and it was a public holiday. I had mine, thanks to my doctor friend and a few of us had them but majority did not. The alternative was to sleep at the border and get the injection and certificate at 8 am in the morning, the guy behind the counter advised us. Hospitals do not open during holidays. We had to wait. At noon his shift ended and while preparing to leave we asked him of a nice pub we could hang out, drink a little, watch football reruns and maybe dance. We had the whole day and night at the border. His face lit up, probably thinking that he could get a few beers from college boys. He was right on that. He knew a great place, he said. He would take us. So we went and though it was not a great place, it was fine: cheap Tanzanian beer, great taraab music and bewitching beauties on the dance floor and during the day! My friends got enchanted by them and off they scurried to the dance floor. I had a resolution to accomplish. I ordered beer for all of us. It was 1500 Tanzanian shillings. That was 75 Kenyan shillings, half the price in Kenya. We actually reserved a waiter for our table. We had money after all we were Kenyans.
We drank beer, talked over things I cannot remember and danced. Benard, the customs guy, was a great talker and dancer too. Looking at him at the dance floor I imagined it must have been long since he danced. Well he was married, he had commitments I assumed. At around 2 pm, three guys with suits came into the bar and set next to us. Judging by their demeanor, they were Kenyans and were important people. They ordered Tusker, a Kenyan beer and I smiled to myself. I was seated with my back at them and being drunk I felt I needed to chat up the guys. I was Kenyan too. You should try Kilimanjaro, Tanzanian beer, I told them. It dances seductively in the mouth and has a crispy taste, I added intentionally. They smiled and the big one asked how much it was. Great start, I thought and told them the price. He chuckled. I called over our waiter and told her to bring these guys a round of Kilimanjaro on our tab and to cancel the other one they had placed. I expected them to object but they did not.

My friends came over and I introduced them to the men in suits. Then Benard came from the rest room and he froze when he saw the guys. He knew them but they did not obviously know him and he refused to sit down. He excused himself and left after I took his number. Then I had no idea why. The men did not even notice him and they liked the beer too so Benard was forgotten. The bigger one, and richer judging by his rotund face and gold ring on his finger, suggested we sit on the same table asked what we were doing in a bar. I explained our situation and they nodded and looked at themselves. Why you haven’t been vaccinated, the bald one asked. Yellow Fever is a serious ailment, he added. Actually we have been vaccinated but we do not have the certificates to show, I lied. No need to be honest about everything. How, the bigger one asked. Taking cue from my lie Joseph picked it up, as a University rule, we cannot be admitted without being vaccinated for Yellow Fever, Measles, Chicken Pox and all those. So yes we have been vaccinated but we have not been given the certificate, he finished. The bald guy nodded. That is true, he said, my son was admitted to Kenyatta University and he too was vaccinated in school. The bigger one just nodded. The other guy smiled and asked if we can verify that. We had a university doctor in our entourage, which was the rule too. They all nodded.

We ordered for more drinks and chatted over the Kenyan constitution, the politicians and the economy. They asked about why we like to stone cars whenever we strike and we told them we were extending the tradition they started. They laughed. The other guy who had remained silent all along laughed the more and said he remembers stoning a few cars himself. We laughed again and ordered more beer.

At around 4 pm the bigger guy asked if we have a place to sleep. We laughed. We are college students, we will sleep in the bus, I said. They laughed too, they have done it before. The bigger one asked if we knew who they were. We said no. Apparently they were senior immigration officials from Nairobi who were part of an advance team that was waiting for the Minister of Immigration who is to open a new office. I read that in the papers I told them. He asked if we would like to continue with our journey….

To cut a long story short, 30 minutes later, 3 short calls on their part, frantic calls on our part to locate the rest of the students, and 3 business cards in my wallet we were well on our way to Arusha drunk but happy. They picked our bills too. The bigger guy, Mr. Omondi is the Chief Immigration Officer, Mr. Koech the bald guy is the Assistant Chief Immigration Officer and Mr. Kazungu is the Principal Immigration Officer (East Africa Region). What more could a soon to be university graduate ask.Never mind we became instant heroes while in the bus.

So yes I have achieved most of my resolutions, some I did not through no fault of my own. Take the example of the pact I had with my folks. I held my end of the bargain and got a first class degree. Need I say my parents did not! Apparently the economy is not doing pretty well. So I do not have a car not because of my fault or my parent’s. It was because of the Government. I blame the government! Another example was my desire to get a girlfriend and shower her with little sweet notes and texts. I got a girlfriend all right, though it never worked out. For some reason, she thought the sweet notes were creepy and girly. Look at the irony. Here I was trying to be William Levy and all not because I believed it but because I had to accomplish my goal but she rebuffed me. At least I tried. I don’t blame myself, I blame her. She had me and she could not handle me. On the other goal of being nice to ladies, well the jury is still out. I am not saying am not popular with the opposite sex, au contraire. I was in the drama and music team in high school, which explains everything.

2011 is going down in 16 days time. I am to write new resolutions again. Hopefully I have 16 days to go. I want to spend these days to reflect on my past year.

Yes I have done crazy things, which had it not been for my friends I would never have done them. I do not regret for they made me smile. Like taking an acquaintance’s car and driving all night with friends while she was asleep (How she trusted us, gave us her car and requested us to drive her home because she was drunk I have no idea) and returning it in the morning; crashing into a wedding pretending we were the groom’s party just for the food; Harassing motorists while on a college outing; staying up all night drinking then calling random guys in the hostels with threatening messages. They were stupid but fun. One guy actually offered to send us money if we do not tell her girlfriend that he was cheating on her.

The year has been kind to me. God indeed has been good to me. I have no reason to complain. Oh well I do not have a car but what the f**k. Sorry God!

I will meet Nyambane again while writing my 2012 New Year resolutions while seated with my brother Brian, his friend Victor and my friend Beverly at a private booth in Lisbon club in Kisii town.

Eddie Ombagi

Thoughts of An Educated Fool: If Tomorrow Never Comes

People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. I learnt never to underestimate someone's capacity for growth. Some changes were phenomenal. Each person when faced with death experienced a variety of emotions, as expected, denial, fear, anger, remorse, more denial and eventually acceptance. Every person finds their peace before they departed though, every one of them.


When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.


2. I wish I didn't work so hard.

This comes from males mostly. They missed their children's youth and their partner's companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the females who say this had not been breadwinners. All of the men deeply regret spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.


3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppress their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settle for a mediocre existence and never become who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.


4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.


5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

This is a surprisingly common one. Many do not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.
My desire is to travel the world, live free, meet Chinua Achebe and simply smile at the sun and gaze at the sunset!.


Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, and choose honestly. Choose happiness.

Ed

Mum, I Promise to Write You a Letter One Day Pt II

Dear Mum,

Wait Mum, I found an unspent candle at the bottom of my metal box. Remember the ones you bought expensively for special occasions. I never understood what special occasions were. To me every day brings forth a special occasion that needs to be enjoyed and savored. You are just a baby, you told me. You told me to grow up and I will understand better. I am sorry I took without your permission. But you know this god forsaken school has frequent black outs and I must write you a letter.

Mum, I told you something is disturbing me. It is this school Mum. “Please forgive me” “I will never repeat it again.” My bunk mate is dreaming. Again! I have told you about this annoying habit. You told me it’s a medical condition that needs to be treated. But I doubt it. My bunk mate is a bully. He likes picking on other students. One of his victims must be haunting him now. Thank God! I read somewhere that what we speak at night when asleep are thoughts confined to our sub conscious. I asked Mr. Bula, the Biology teacher and he confirmed. These are thoughts that we cannot otherwise verbalize them when awake, he says. Mr. Bula is a great teacher. I like him so much. Of course after Ms. Wanderi, the English teacher. He is always nice to me. He lets me take tea at the staff room when I go to collect books, other teachers do not. He allows me to ride his bicycle in the evenings. He once invited me to his house. Mum, he has a big house, a beautiful wife and two sons. One of his sons is my age. I sometimes think he likes me because I am more like his son. I have never asked him of course but I suspect it. The other day he promised to take me to his rural home after the exams. I told him we are going to Mombasa to see Aunty Mary.

Mum, the dorm is really quiet as the cemetery. I can hear a few snores and grumblings. Whenever one turns, the bed noisily creaks and that scares me. The beds are made of steel and springs. They are really uncomfortable to sleep on. I can almost hear you say that am only here for a season and a reason. I should sacrifice my comfort for something better, you say. But how can I Mum when it’s painful a reality to even blink your eyes? How can I hope for a better tomorrow when tonight is sharply bleak? This is why I must write you a letter. Ms. Wanderi tells me to always be optimistic about life. Tomorrow will be brighter, she says. Oh Madam Wanderi! She is a sweet teacher Mum. She always smiles. I really like her. She likes me too. Remember the day she brought me home when I was sick? You were not at home so she had to take care of me till you came back. I remember the look in your eyes when you came in through the door and saw me laying on the sofa, a stranger beside me. What’s wrong, you curtly asked rushing to my side.

Later she would tell me how worried you looked. How lucky I am to have you. How caring and loving you are. Of course I knew all that but it was great to hear it from her. Mum, you know she sometimes calls me for dinner at her house. She has a small daughter, very beautiful with brown eyes. Lovely smile. Just like Brenda. I do not know her father but who cares anyway? Statistics are awash with single mothers who are capable of providing for their families. Plus she teaches really well. On Monday next week we are going for a Literature Symposium at Greenvale School. It’s a debate and yes Mum, I am the lead debater. Last month it was held here in school and we performed really well. She gave me a watch as a present. I didn’t like it but I had to keep it. Three days later it was stolen! I was taking a shower when I placed it on top of the concrete slab then I forgot it. I came back for it and found it gone. Kimani says it’s my fault. I know you would say it too. But how is it my fault that there are thieves masquerading as students in this school? I did not feel bad though, I didn’t like it. I reported the theft to her and she said they would carry an impromptu inspection. I am still waiting.

Mum, whenever they carry out an inspection, they always confiscate our belongings: clothes, shoes, phones and even consumables like sugar and coffee. Home clothes and shoes are illegal and no one bothers whenever they are taken away. But sugar? The morning porridge is tasteless. They never put sugar in it. If they did, we would not be bringing sugar to school. It has become expensive anyway. I study at night all the time Mum. I need coffee to keep me awake. I told the Deputy Principal as much. He said maybe we should stop studying at night. Imagine! And you still ask why I want out of this school.

It is really cold outside. I can hear the gush of the wind threatening to pull the mabati roof. I really have no idea why the winds have not managed to blow it away. This dorm is really old, really old. The mabati has decayed that it has lost its original color. It is now brown. Whenever it rains, the roof leaks. So many times I have come to the dorm to find the floor covered with water. When there are thunderstorms, the building literally shakes. One day it might cave in and bury us alive. Mum, please get me out of this place before then.

It’s becoming really cold. It must be about midnight. The perfect time to study. I told you some of us wake up at night to go and study quietly. During the day it’s impossible. I hear a bread creak and someone jumps out. It’s Kimani, my best friend. I see him putting on his shoes and sweater. Mum, we usually go to bed with our full school uniforms. It saves time when waking up, we reason. Of course there are bed bugs but who cares. We need to pass, right? I told you I must go to the University.

Ben jumps out of bed too, followed by Chris and Joseph. They all have their uniforms on. They all troop to the bathroom to wash their faces. I don’t have to; I have not slept a wink. I must write you a letter. Kimani comes to my bed and is startled I am writing. Have you slept, he asks. No, I reply, I promised to write Mum a letter. He asks me to pass his greetings to you. Ben, Chris and Joseph circle my bed and ask what is happening. Eddie is writing his Mum a letter, Kimani says. They all nod. Joseph mumbles something about him wanting writing a letter to his girlfriend in a nearby school. Mum, I too have a girlfriend. It is the only sweet thing in this hell. When I come home for holidays I will tell you about it. They all hate it here. That is why we are such great friends and study partners. We always take the first five positions in class. That is how compatible we are. You will meet them when next you come for the visiting day. They are really cool chaps.

My alarm goes off. Its 12:02 am, waky waky, it screams. Beds creak and some heavy sleepers mumble as they turn and snore. Mum, my friends are becoming impatient, Ben is shuffling his feet. I must go with them. Kimani says I will write you a letter some other day; Ben nods and checks his watch. British, Ben is. He is a great stickler of detail and an excellent time keeper. No wonder he is the school’s official time watcher. He says he wants to go to Oxford. I am sure he will. Sign off, Chris begs. He is the most considerate of us all. He hates confrontations and is usually the voice of reason in our group. We call it the Pentagon. The Principal actually called us that after our domination in class. We are very fond of Chris. He is the Library prefect. He usually allows us to study in there where it’s warm and cozy. The library has comfortable seats unlike the hard wooden seats in class. Whenever he comments, his arguments are final. We must obey! I must sign off!

I am picking my books from under the head of the mattress. They make my pillow. I have to go now Mum. Books come first, you always say that.

Promise to write your Mum a letter one day, Chris says as we head out of the door. I do.

Mum, I Promise to Write You a Letter One Day

Dear Mum,
I went to bed yesterday full of promise and hope. I knew that today was to be a great day for me. It had to be, I had an exam. You remember when you called to wish me a good night? I had already asked God for one. He seemed to have granted me my wish, for I had this sense of peace wash over me. You really need to stop calling at such hours. You know it’s illegal to own a phone in school. I could be expelled you know. Not that I care, I really hate in this place. The food sucks, the people suck and the teachers are horrible.

For the first time I had a good night in my brief life. Normally I would suffer from insomnia or have nightmares. I know you are aware of the terrible nightmares that I have suffered since childhood. I used to be so afraid of the night that I would cuddle up near you and sleep. I would refuse to go to bed in my own room even after Daddy confirms that am alone. That was the point, only I could not comprehend then. I was terrified to be alone. Mum, last night I slept like a baby.

I went to class really early today. I told you I had an exam. I met Kimani on the way and we walked together. I am sure you remember Kimani, my best friend. He has been helping me with Math assignments. I told you I have no idea why I study it; I want to be a writer. I want to write books and be famous. I want to give public lectures in universities and sign my books in shopping malls. I want to organize book reading clubs at home and make people read books. Not calculate calculus or produce probabilities.

How would you know how much you have made in your book sales, you once asked me? I will hire a pretty good accountant, like Kimani, I said. He is really good at Math Mum. He has attended many contests. I have no idea how he does it but he does.

We talk over many things. The recent Syokimau demolitions, he says his brother’s house was demolished. Yeah, he too has a phone. We do not understand why a government would demolish houses that were approved to be built by them in the first place. Kimani wants to be president. I believe he can make a good president; he always defends me when the prefects pick on me. I know you would say am rude but those goons don’t like me. Kimani is the entertainment prefect so I always get it easy.

We talk of the Al Shabaab war and why a nation that cannot feed itself goes to war. We also talk of the coming holidays. I tell Kimani you had promised to take us to see Aunty Mary in Mombasa. We are going to our rural home, he says. I still do not understand why people go to their rural homes for holidays. I ask him as much and he says he has never seen his grandparents for a whole year. I hope sokoro, grandfather is fine. When I left he was ailing.

He asks me if I am ready for the exam. I am ready, I say. Am I? Of course not. I am never ready for anything. I am never certain of it. Sometimes the world seems to spin too fast even though astronomers and scientists tell us it moves at the same speed it has always done for eons. That is how am feeling now. Torn between believing the past or embracing the future. The past looks real; it is assuring, comforting and even surreal at best. But it’s the past. The future, mum what can I say about the future? I have no idea what it is. I know it signifies things to come, those that which are not in our grasp yet. Things! No one knows what those things are, I don’t. The universe unfolds as it should, Desiderata said. So the future would simply unravel as it is. I am not ready, I finally say after a long silence. He looks at me keenly, what is wrong, he asks. Nothing, I reply and hurry along. We have an exam, I yell over my shoulder.

Of course something is wrong Mum. I am bothered and disturbed by what I heard last week. I have been meaning to write you a letter and tell you how I feel. It is weighing me down heavily and I cannot simply go on.

Mum, the head prefect is yelling that lights out. Soon he will switch off the lights and the candles you bought me are finished. I also have another exam tomorrow so I better get to bed and rest but Mum, I promise to write you a letter one day!

CHINUA ACHEBE: TIME TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE EMERITUS NOBEL LAUREATE

CHINUA ACHEBE: TIME TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE EMERITUS NOBEL LAUREATE


What is it with the Nobel Prize in literature? Why has not Professor Chinua Achebe won the prize?

Chinua Achebe, renowned writer and author of the 1958 classic novel, Things Fall Apart, A Man of the People, Anthills of the Savannah, Arrow of God, Home and Exile and many more has sold over 20 million copies (Things Fall Apart alone has sold over 10 Million copies) and translated into several languages has won yet another prize; the 300, 000. 00 U.S Dollars Dorothy and Lillian Gish prize thus joining the esteemed list of Bob Dylan, Arthur Miller, Robert Redford and a select few who have won the prize which is one of the largest and most prestigious awards in the arts. Chinua Achebe is currently Professor of Africana Studies at Brown University in Providence, R.I, United States of America.

Achebe, whose incisive writings and critical thinking examines the impact of colonialism on African culture and politics in the pre and post colonial world has won several other awards and he won the Man Booker International Prize (2007) which recognizes a life time of work, sponsored by the Man Group and established in 2005 to complement the Man Booker Prize, the Man Booker International Prize rewards one writer's overall achievement in literature and their significant influence on writers and readers worldwide. The award is therefore a recognition of the writer's body of work, rather than any one title.

Achebe's novels focus on the traditions of Igbo society, the effect of Christian influences, the clash of values during and after the colonial era and he has also written about the missed opportunities and squandering of the continent’s high hopes at independence. He has variously been described and held in high esteem by the literary world. When in 1987, he released his fifth novel, Anthills of the Savannah, about a military coup in the fictional West African nation of Kagan, the Financial Times hailed him thus, “in a powerful fusion of myth, legend and modern styles, Achebe has written a book which is wise, exciting and essential, a powerful antidote to the cynical commentators from 'overseas' who see nothing ever new out of Africa”. The magazine, West African, also wrote that the book which was a finalist for the Man Booker Prize of that year deserved to win the prize, and that Achebe was “a writer who has long deserved the recognition that has already been accorded him by his sales figures”.

In June 2007, Achebe was awarded the Man Booker International Prize. The judging panel included U.S critic Elaine Showalter who said he "illuminated the path for writers around the world seeking new words and forms for new realities and societies"; and South African writer and Nobel Laureate Nadine Gordimer who said Achebe has achieved "what one of his characters brilliantly defines as the writer’s purpose: 'a new-found utterance' for the capture of life’s complexity". Now in 2010, Achebe has been awarded The Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize “awarded to a man or woman who has made an outstanding contribution to the beauty of the world and to mankind’s enjoyment and understanding of life” in the words of one of the creators of the trust, Lillian Gish.

According to Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia and I copiously quote “Achebe has been called "the father of modern African writing", and many books and essays have been written about his work over the past fifty years. In 1992 he became the first living author to be represented in the Everyman’s Library collection published by Alfred A. Knopf. His 60th birthday was celebrated at the University of Nigeria by "an international Who's Who in African Literature". One observer noted: "Nothing like it had ever happened before in African literature anywhere on the continent".

Many writers of succeeding generations view his work as having paved the way for their efforts. In 1982 he was awarded an honorary degree from the University of Kent. At the ceremony, Professor Robert Gibson said that the Nigerian author "is now revered as Master by the younger generation of African writers and it is to him they regularly turn for counsel and inspiration." Even outside of Africa, his impact resonates strongly in literary circles. Novelist Margaret Atwood called him "a magical writer – one of the greatest of the twentieth century". Poet Maya Angelou lauded Things Fall Apart as a book wherein "all readers meet their brothers, sisters, parents and friends and themselves along Nigerian roads". Nelson Mandela, recalling his time as a political prisoner, once referred to Achebe as a writer "in whose company the prison walls fell down."

Of his extra-ordinary classic – Things Fall Apart, Time magazine wrote, “a novel of great power that turns the world upside down”. Time magazine also acknowledged the book as one of the best 100 English language novels written between 1923 and date. Things Fall Apart, is thus in good company, and ranks with other seminal works of our time, like Gone with the Wind, The Great Gatsby, The Sun Also Rises, The Grapes of Wrath, The Blind Assassin, To Kill a Mockingbird, Catch-22, An American Tragedy and Blood Meridian.

Achebe is the recipient of over 30 honorary degrees from universities in England, Scotland, Canada, South Africa, Nigeria and the United States, including Dartmouth College, Harvard, and Brown University. He has been awarded the Commonwealth Poetry Prize, an Honorary Fellowship of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Nigerian National Order of Merit (Nigeria's highest honour for academic work), and the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade. Professor Chinua Achebe, received The Medal of Honor for Literature from the National Arts Club in New York City in 2007. The Medal of Honor for Literature, one of America’s most prestigious and distinctive literature honors is given for a body of work of literary excellence. Achebe will become the 39th recipient of the medal since it was instituted in 1968. It is noteworthy, that Achebe is also the first black African and second black writer to receive this honor.

How come such a man has not received the Nobel? In 2006, when the Nobel Prize for Literature went to Turkey’s novelist Mr. Orhan Pamuk, it was widely believed that the other four (though unconfirmed) nominees were a Nigerian, an American, a Syrian and a Peruvian and if this would-have-been Nigerian laureate was Achebe as many have since then speculated we will never know until fifty years hence when in keeping with tradition, the 2006 runner-up status is made public. For me personally and I take umbrage (not without good cause though) with the academy in Stockholm, why no Nigerian has won the Nobel prize in any field of human endeavour in the intervening 24 years since Professor Wole Soyinka in 1986 beats me silly. There is nothing left for Chinua Achebe to do to deserve the recognition. Some have argued that the literary prize is too Eurocentric and they may not be far from the truth, the 2009 Nobel prize for literature as an example was awarded to Roman born German poet and novelist, Herta Muller with the Swedish academy describing Muller as a writer “who, with the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose, depicts the landscape of the dispossessed”. Though she is relatively unknown, she has been celebrated as one of Germany’s best writers in a long while. American’s it was reported were shocked at the choice of Muller. If American’s were shocked at the choice of Muller because no American has won the prize in a couple of years then Africans ought to be enraged. In its 110 years old history, only five Africans have won the Nobel prize for literature despite the obvious glut of iconic literary talents on the continent – Wole Soyinka of Nigeria in 1986, Naguib Mahfouz of Egypt in 1988, Nadine Gordimer of South Africa in 1991, J.M Coetzee of South Africa in 2003 and Iranian/Zimbabwean/British Doris Lessing in 2007 and more outrageous is that Chinua Achebe is much more distinguished than these writers. Achebe even bested Doris Lessing to win the Man Booker International Prize in 2007.

It is a testimony to the impeccable character of the man who has also been described with such superlatives as “the most translated writer of African heritage”; “one of the great intellectuals and ethical figures of our time”; “one of the 1, 000 makers of the 21st Century responsible for defining a modern African literature that was truly African” that when Wole Soyinka won in 1986, he joined the rest of the world in celebrating the first African Nobel laureate in literature. He lauded Wole Soyinka’s works and remarked that he was “most eminently deserving of any prize”. On this vexatious issue he told Quality Weekly in 1988; “My position is that the Nobel Prize is important. But it is a European prize. It's not an African prize. Literature is not a heavyweight championship. Nigerians may think, you know, this man has been knocked out. It's nothing to do with that”. See how this man has bore and still bear it all with equanimity and good grace uncommon in these times and age.

Achebe’s biographer Ezenwa-Ohaeto suggests a possible reason why the Stockholm academy continues to shun Achebe: Achebe once refused to attend a Conference on African literature in Stockholm, Sweden. With his characteristic humility he explained that he “consider(ed) it (in) appropriate for African writers to assemble in Europe in 1986 to discuss the future of their literature. Ezenwa-Ohaeto implies that in all likelihood the act was perceived as a snub by the Nobel committee, who assumed that this refusal was an indicator that Achebe would refuse the Prize itself if awarded.

Again, Achebe had in 1975, at the Chancellor lecture at Amherst, Massachusetts criticized Joseph Conrad, the tradition of racism in the west and pointed out that racism was the core of Conrad’s critical book “The Heart of Darkness”, asserting that the book more than any other work displays that “Western desire – one might indeed say the need – in Western psychology to set up Africa as a foil to Europe, as a place of negations at once remote and vaguely familiar, in comparison with which Europe’s own state of spiritual grace will be manifest”. To Achebe, “Heart of Darkness projects the image of Africa as “the other world,” the antithesis of Europe and therefore of civilization, a place where man’s vaunted intelligence and refinement are finally mocked by triumphant bestiality”.

Now Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” is considered in the West as one of the great works of art produced by any man and is about the best read book in the English Departments of European and American Universities. Apart from emphatically denying that this book is a great work of art, Achebe even had the “temerity” to criticize another one considered great in the West, Albert Schweitzer, a 1952 Nobel Peace Prize winner who Achebe described as an “extraordinary missionary who sacrificed brilliant careers in music and theology in Europe for a life of service to African’s” but who could not ultimately accept the equality of the African as he gleefully quotes “the African is indeed my brother but my junior brother” and he went on to build substandard hospitals appropriate to the need of junior brothers. Westerners were scandalized and many appalled that Achebe could criticize a man honoured in the West for his service to mankind and advocacy of Western liberalism. The West never forgave him and Stockholm took note.

Perceptibly, it does seem that literary reasons are no longer the sole consideration for awarding the Nobel in literature any more. Turkey’s Orhan Pamuk won in 2006 because “in the quest for the melancholic soul of his native land has discovered new symbols for the clash and interlacing cultures”. Austria’s Elfriede Jelenik in 2004 for revealing “the absurdity of society’s clichés and their subjugating power”. In 2010, Peruvian, Mario Vargas Llosa has won for “his cartography of structures of power and his trenchant images of the individual’s resistance, revolt and defeat”. This all smacks of Political correctness. No longer will anyone win the approval of Stockholm again if he simply “in a wide cultural perspective and with poetic overtones fashions the drama of existence” without more.

Ike Okonta writing in the Thisday of October, 29, 2006 came as close to the truth as anyone who has written on the subject before when he wrote “the reading world, including the Nobel Committee, know this fact: Chinualumogu Achebe is not only the greatest writer to come out of Africa, he is also, perhaps, the one writer in the world today who, through his work, single-handedly changed the way in which one people, their history and culture are perceived by another. After the publication of Things Fall Apart in 1958, the myth of a dark Africa, peopled by savages, without history and so without a story, a myth assiduously cultivated and peddled by European explorers and mercenary soldiers of the Frederick Lugard variety, was smashed forever. The guardians of the Western literary cannon in Oxford and Stockholm and Harvard have not forgiven Chinua Achebe for this ‘heresy’. He is widely seen as an ‘uppity nigger’ who does not know his place, who does not accord white ‘Massa’ sufficient respect. Above all Achebe is considered the cultural equivalent of Kwame Nkrumah, Amilcar Cabral and Patrice Lumumba, great African’s who made it clear from the outset that their life’s mission was to rid the continent of the armed robbers and rapists that had held her down for five centuries. It is significant that all three were removed from power by the West, and in the case of Cabral and Lumumba, murdered in cold blood by agents of Western imperialism. Had Achebe’s terrain been politics, there is no doubt in my mind that he too would have gone the way of the others, felled by a bullet fired from London or Washington. ‘Heretics’, those that challenge the status quo, are meant to burn at the stakes, after all. Is it likely that the Nobel Committee, which in truth is merely the cultural arm of a rapine project intent on gobbling up all that is non-Western, will reward Chinua Achebe for insisting so powerfully and so brilliantly in his novels, essays, and poems that Africa was not one long night of savagery before Europe came calling in the fifteenth century?”

But does Chinua Achebe really need the Nobel Prize to validate his pre eminence in African literature? As the ‘Eagle on the tallest Iroko?’ Many think not and Obi Wakama captured it in good sense when he wrote in 2002, “frankly, I think that Achebe does not need the Nobel Prize. The Nobel Prize will merely dignify itself if it is awarded to Chinua Achebe. Everyone recognizes that he is among the greatest writers living on earth today. The real significance of Achebe was captured by that announcement in London two years ago in 2000, when he, Wole Soyinka and Derek Walcott were invited to a special program. The announcement read: ‘Two Nobel Laureates and a Legend’. There is no greater honour”.

The continued disregard for Achebe by Stockolm has truly not diminished him a bit. Achebe would win the Nobel either in life or in death but unfortunately the prize is not awarded posthumously and Achebe will be 81 years in November 2011. Simply, if Achebe does not win the Nobel price anytime soon, then he will never win it. This will not diminish him in our eyes but it will sure diminish him in the eyes of the next generation of literary connoisseurs who may never have the good fortune to know and understand what we know now. But then Achebe will loom large even in death and his place in African literature will never be discountenanced. More than any other African writer I know, see how Africa remains the focus of this great man’s thoughts? In 2007 when he won the Man Booker International Prize, Achebe reacted thus: “It was 50 years ago this year that I began writing my first novel, Things Fall Apart. It is wonderful to hear that my peers have looked at the body of work I have put together in the last 50 years and judged it deserving of this important recognition. I am grateful.” In essence African literature has flourished for 50 years, critically galvanized by Achebe’s monumental work, Things Fall Apart. Three years on in 2010, he said about the Gish Prize "When I was a boy, growing up in Nigeria, becoming a novelist was a far-away dream, now it is a reality for many African writers, not just myself. The Gish Prize recognizes the long journey my fellow colleagues and I have taken, and I am proud and grateful for that." Quintessential Achebe on the difficult road less travelled he took in 1957 and the thousand African writers who will be joint heirs to the throne. Ngugi wa Thiong’o for example, another one who should be a Nobel laureate one day if Stockholm does the right thing.

So in the innermost recesses of the minds and in the heart of African’s and 20 million readers across the globe, Achebe is the unacknowledged Nobel laureate and to the Nobel Committee they have assigned the task of carrying the burden of their snub of a literary giant, more eminent than scores of men in their honours list and who in their hearts they acknowledge a legend and a Nobel laureate several times over.

All therefore hail Africa’s emeritus Nobel laureate, Professor Chinua Achebe!!!

Thanks: STEPHEN O. OBAJAJA

He doesn’t lead, and he doesn’t understand why we don’t feel led.

It was a blustery day in Nairobi on Dec 28, 2007, as it often seems to be on that day especially in Kenya. Normally, the air would be filled with pregnant celebration for Christmas and the New Year. It was not however. The country was waiting with baited breath for Mr. Samuel Kivuitu to announce the winner of the presidential elections. As I watched the results being announced, I had a feeling of unease. It wasn’t just that the man who could be so eloquent had seemingly chosen not to be on this auspicious occasion, although that turned out to be a troubling harbinger of things to come. It was that there was a story the Kenyan people were waiting to hear — and needed to hear — but he didn’t tell it. And in the ensuing months we paid.. and him too…and he continued not to tell it, no matter how outrageous the slings and arrows his opponents, us, threw at him.
The stories our leaders tell us matter, probably almost as much as the stories our parents tell us as children, because they orient us to what is, what could be, and what should be; to the worldviews they hold and to the values they hold sacred. Our brains evolved to “expect” stories with a particular structure, with protagonists and villains, a hill to be climbed or a battle to be fought. Our species existed for more than 100,000 years before the earliest signs of literacy, and another 5,000 years would pass before the majority of humans would know how to read and write.
Stories were the primary way our ancestors transmitted knowledge and values. Today we seek movies, novels and “news stories” that put the events of the day in a form that our brains evolved to find compelling and memorable. Children crave bedtime stories; the holy books of the three great monotheistic religions are written in parables; and as research in cognitive science has shown, lawyers whose closing arguments tell a story win trials against their legal adversaries who just lay out “the facts of the case.”
When Mwai Kibaki rose to be sworn in, the nation was in tatters. Kenyans were scared and angry. Tension smelled putrid. Then hell broke loose and the nation was thrown into a spin. What ensued, no one ever imagined: The ethnic political violence shattered the nation’s image as an oasis of calm in a turbulent corner of Africa. More than 1,200 people were killed and up to 600,000 displaced. The violence had assumed an unsettling ethnic character that saw neighbor turn against neighbor with machetes and other crude weapons. As militia mobilized on both sides, Kenyans began to self-segregate along ethnic lines. The economy was spinning in reverse. Thousands of people lost their jobs. Many had lost their homes and families, and with them the only nest eggs they had. Even the usually impervious upper middle class took a hit, with the stock market dropping in value with no end in sight. Hope was as scarce as credit.
In Feb. 29th 2008, the country was re united again, albeit fluidly. Calm was restored, normalcy returned, hope was renewed.
In that context, Kenyans needed their president to tell them a story that made sense of what they had just been through, what caused it, and how it was going to end. They needed to hear that he understood what they were feeling, that he would track down those responsible for their pain and suffering, and that he would restore order and safety. What we were waiting for never came.
We moved on, as we always do. Banking on our resilience, that African aspect that made us survive worst tragedies ever: slavery, colonialism and several wars in the continent.
Now is 2011. And the fear and anxiety we had in 2008 is back. Kenyans are dying of hunger amid plenty; the government functionaries do not accept reality. The minister responsible once came on national TV and promised that no Kenyan would die of hunger again. It is no surprise that she is quite now. The Government spokesman denies that Kenyans are starving. He terms the reported deaths as unofficial. Media reports show untold suffering of our own brothers and sisters, a story of anguish and despair.
Again, at this critical juncture, Kenyans needed their president to tell them a story, of why we had to die of hunger, why while there is massive shortage in North Eastern, food rots away in Bura and Hola. We wanted a story on why he could not summon an emergency response when the government had been forewarned of the impending disaster long before. We simply wanted an assurance that it was going to be fine, that he was in control and that he had enough compassion for the starving.
That story never came and it still hasn’t when the Kenyans 4 Kenya Initiative is nearing the 1 Billion Shillings mark.
We have shown, consistently that we can pull ourselves up from whatever gutter he put us in. we are doing it now with the hunger initiative. But we can do more.
We can fight!
Let us summon the fighting spirit of our founding fathers, let us call for their help at this hour of need, let us awaken in us the African Dream, the Kenyan Renaissance, let the blood of our warriors, they who courageously fought for our independence, flow in us, let us reignite the spirit of Pan Africanism, that which Kwame Nkurumah, Abdel Nasser and Mwalimu Nyerere yearned for, let us rely on the one thing that distinguishes the African people- Our RESILIENCE: To fight; to persevere; to sacrifice, if only for a brighter tomorrow.

Let us revel in the beauty of our people, in the pride of our diversity, in our sensuality and emotion, our song and dance, our gaiety and spring of step, our laughter that springs from the heart, our ability to love and capacity to learn, the spirit of ubuntu and good neighbouliness- that which is distinctly African, the fountain of humanity.
We are doomed, at present, but there is nothing more beautiful than knowing that tomorrow is uncertain for all of us. But then the uncertain future makes us hope for the light at the end of the tunnel, that tiny speck of light that comforts us, that little star that leads us on, that faint echo that reminds us of our humanity, our mortality, our being African. When dawn breaks, we would be ready to face tomorrow, when the sun goes down, we would rest in the full knowledge that we have played our part and that, this future would be better and brighter though in its uncertainty.
We all are braver than we believe, stronger than we seem, and smarter than we think... if we resolve to think, work and move together, our synergy can help us soar to heights we never thought we could reach. We have done it before, we can do it again!
May we have the moral courage to wish each other comfort during difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, sunsets to warm our hearts, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for our eyes to see, friendships to brighten our days, faith so that we can believe, confidence when we doubt, courage to know ourselves, patience to accept the truth, love to complete our lives.
Therein lies our hope for he doesn’t lead, and he doesn’t understand why we don’t feel led.

Eddie Ombagi
African Union Youth Volunteer Fellow, Works for the World Youth Alliance in Nairobi and a Kenyan youth representative to the Commonwealth Youth Caucus.

In The Sea...... Is Where I Want To Be....

Yes!.
There comes a time in all of our lives . .
When the shades of blue and green tipped in white . .
Seem to paint the colors of a souls day and night! . .
Never are we alone! . .
Yet alone is the feel . .
A hunger brewing deep within . .
And the need to feel! . .
O how the sea rings to me . .
Her reasonings lingering in the waves . .
The crash in and rush onto the lands banks . .
To yonder where am free..
To dream dreams..
And wish wishes..
To where my heart is..

Life of Hope/ Death of Despair

I wanted all the realistic things love, peace, and security
I wanted all the material things cars, clothes, and jewelry
And all of my life I never stopped hoping eventually
My dreams would come true
And deep in my heart I knew
I’d try to do all I dreamt I would do.

So I continued to fight the one thing in my life I knew
That could stand in my way
So I fought with my self
To be all I could be each and every day
I lived through the games of life
And followed rules expected of us all
If I got knocked down and couldn’t stand
At least I’d start with a crawl

So all of my life I lived with the hope
That one day my life would be completed
And in my soul I’d do all I could not to be defeated

So as I got older in age
I still held onto my hope
I wasn’t young anymore
Yet I hadn’t reach the end of my rope
I hadn’t progressed in society
Only a small group of family and friends.
Hope was always there until the very end

Lying on my deathbed I looked back into my past
Finally letting reality come into my grasp
Life is what you make and life’s not always fair
Why did I live with hope just to die in deep despair

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari - Stellar Read...

I have become a Robin Sharma fan after reading this book. The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari is the book that made the biggest impact in my life so far. I recommend the book to everyone. Here are some of the key ideas I captured.

* Forget about the past. Dare to dream that you are more than the sum of your circumstances. Expect the best.
* Condition the mind. Don’t let negative thoughts enter it.
* You are building your destiny because only you decide how do you react to what happens to you.
* Persistence is the mother of personal change.
* With one eye fixed on the destination, there is only one left to guide you along the journey.
* Reflect on your day, on your life.
* What you visualize, you get.
* There is nothing noble in being superior to some other person. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self. Run your own race.
* Never judge you self worth by somebody else’s net worth.
* There are no setbacks – only lessons.
* The quality of your life is determined by the quality of your thoughts.
* Find out what you truly love to do, and direct all energy towards it
* The purpose of life is a life of purpose
* Clearly defined priorities and goals for every aspect of life server as lighthouse. Offering you guidance and refuge.
* Have the discipline and vision to see your heroic mission – Dharma – and to ensure that it servers other people while you realize it.
* Never do anything because you have to, do it only if you want to and if that is the right thing for you to do
* 5 step method of attaining goals – form a clear mental picture, create positive pressure, set a deadline, put it to paper, apply it for 21 days
* The book of dreams
* Kaizen – constant and never ending enrichment of mind, body and soul
* The only limits on your life are the ones you set yourself
* Happiness comes from progressive realization of worthy objectives
* Failure is your friend
* Do the things you fear
* 10 rules of radiant living: Ritual of solitude, Ritual of physicality, Ritual of live nourishments, Ritual of abundant knowledge, Ritual of personal reflection, Ritual of early awakening, Ritual of music, Ritual of spoken word, Ritual of congruent character, Ritual of simplicity
* Virtues – industry, compassion, humility, patience, honesty and courage
* I am more than I appear to be, all the world’s power and strength rests within me
* Live with discipline
* Enlightened people are priority driven. This is the secret of time mastery. Focus on priorities and maintain balance.
* Act as if failure is impossible and your success will be assured
* We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience
* The quality of your life will come down to the quality of your contribution
* See yourself not as an individual, but as a part of collection
* Life does not always give you what you want, but it always gives you what you need
* Stop putting off your happiness for the sake of achievement

Dance Like No One Is Watching

We convince ourselves that life
will be better after we get married,
have a baby, then another.
Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough
and we'll be more content when they are.

After that we're frustrated that we
have teenagers to deal with,
we will certainly be happy
when they are out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete
when our spouse gets his or her act together,
when we get a nicer car,
are able to go on a nice vacation,
when we retire.
The truth is there's no better time
to be happy than right now.
If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges.
It's best to admit this to yourself
and decide to be happy anyway.
One of my favorite quotes comes
from Alfred D Souza.

He said, "For a long time it had seemed
to me that life was about to begin -real life.
But there was always some obstacle in the way,
something to be gotten through first,
some unfinished business,
time still to be served,
a debt to be paid. Then life would begin.
At last it dawned on me that these
obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see
that there is no way to happiness.
Happiness is the way,
so, treasure every moment that you have.
And treasure it more because you shared it
with someone special,
special enough to spend your time...
and remember that time waits for no one.

So stop waiting until you finish school,
until you go back to school,
until you lose ten pounds,
until you gain ten pounds,
until you have kids,
until your kids leave the house,
until you start work,
until you retire,
until you get married,
until you get divorced,
until Friday night,
until Sunday morning,
until you get a new car or home,
until your car or home is paid off,
until spring, until summer,
until fall, until winter,
until you are off welfare,
until the first or fifteenth,
until your song comes on,
until you've had a drink,
until you've sobered up,
until you die, until you are born again
to decide that there is no better time
than right now to be happy...
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

So, Work like you don't need money.
Love like you've never been hurt and
Dance Like no one's watching.

You Are Not As Vile As I Thought!

Memories of pain,
still droning on,
to dampen the exuberance,
of my faith in you,
raging on my brittle defeats,
you run over my silent desires,
to celebrate,
your day of,
vicarious victory,
and our vested tryst,
limping along,
desperate moments,
fading into oblivion,
and as i know,
you're not as vile,
as i thought,

MY EXPERIENCES IN MALABO IN THE EQUATORIAL GUINEA DURING THE AU-YVC PRE-DEPLOYMENT TRAINING FROM 14TH JUNE TO 3RD JULY 2011

MALABO JUNE 2011: REPORT
AU-YVC PRE- DEPLOYMENT TRAINING

This is a report on my experiences in Malabo, the Equatorial Guinea during the African Union Youth Volunteer Corps (AU-YVC) pre-deployment training held between the 14th June and 3rd July 2011.

EDDIE OMBAGI - KENYA
Tel: +254 723 900 954
Email: ombagimatwere@rocketmail.com
O4th July, 2011


This is a report on my experiences in Malabo, the Equatorial Guinea during the African Union Youth Volunteer Corps (AU-YVC) pre-deployment training held between the 14th June and 3rd July 2011.
14th June 2011.
I arrived at the airport at 0645hrs and checked in. At the boarding area I met the other team who were going for the African Union Youth Volunteer Corps (AU-YVC) pre-deployment training in Malabo. We got into the plane and at exactly 0845hrs, our plane took off.
We landed at the Aeropuerto de Malabo (Malabo Airport) at 1230hrs local time (1030hrs Malabo time.)
We got delayed at the airport for about two hours while we waited for the African Union team to come and pick us because since we did not have visas. Emmanuel from the Equato-Guinean government and Chimene Astrid from the AU-YVC arrived and apologized for the delay. They handled the immigration issue and later we got into the bus and left for our hotel.
The hotel was situated in the heart of the city within the national stadium. The stadium is a work of art newly built for the coming Africa Cup of Nations that would be hosted in the country.
We met other Youth Volunteers from all over the continent. Later we were taken to the Centro Cultura de Guineano (Guinea Cultural Center) where our training would be held and where we would be having our meals.
That night it was a familiarization night and we mingled freely, introducing each other, sharing our fight experiences and looking forward to the training that would eventually lead to our being deployed.
15th June 2011.
We woke up in the morning and travelled to the Cultural Center for breakfast. We interacted further with new volunteers who kept on arriving any minute.
The facilitators were on the way coming so the training had not already started. Further the president of Equatorial Guinea was meant to open the training officially and therefore we had to wait.
But not time was wasted. We indulged in team building exercises that saw bonds being created while the walls of fears were brought down.
16th June 2011.
More team building exercises were performed in order to achieve the objective of the training. To expose ourselves and build trust and confidence in each other.
In the night we were provided with t-shirts and caps that would distinguish us as youth volunteers.
17th June 2011.
The training was officially opened by the president of Equatorial Guinea H.E Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo and the Director of the Human Resource and Science and Technology Madam Vera Brenda Ngosi.
The president insisted on the need of the volunteers to ensure that they devote their time to serving the community. He proposed that the headquarters of the AU-YVC be in Malabo.
On her part, the director impressed upon us to cultivate good moral behavior and that we should realize that having attended the training we are at privileged for we have the chance and opportunity to impact the continent positively.
18th June 2011
Our first session, we started by formulating the rules that would govern us during the training. Our first exercise was to split into our different countries and write down what we are famous for, the stereotypes and our lifestyles. We were supposed to present it before the rest of the team when we assembled.
In the afternoon, we were taught on Value and Values System and why it is important to have one. The facilitator explained that the value system will determine our behavior and attitudes and gave us examples of famous people like Bill Gates, Barrack Obama, Wangari Maathai and Adolf Hitler.
We finished the session well into 1900hrs. Everyone was tired and fatigued.
19th June 2011
We were oriented on the African Union (AU), the African Union Commission (AUC) and the AUYVC. The day was pretty busy and the facilitators ensured that we gain enough.
20th June 2011
Today the topic was on Information Gathering and Report Writing Skills. We were taught on how to gather information and how to write effective reports.
Later we were given assignments to do.
In the evening, there was a session on Team Building whose objective was to make us open up to each other and trust each other.


21st June 2011
Today we had a debate. We were split into three groups according to our languages. The topic of the debate was whether African youth are ready to volunteer.
At the end of the debate it was realized that African youth may not be ready to volunteer because they do not have enough information.
In the afternoon we were tasked to write an academic paper on chosen topics.
The day ended well.

22nd June 2011
After the daily briefings, we were oriented on the topic of Leadership Skills. We were taught the different types of power and leadership. We were oriented on the need to apply the different types of power in order to achieve a stated objective.
In the evening we performed a team building exercise on the SWOT analysis. We got into groups and brainstormed on our strengths and weaknesses. We managed to eliminate the stereotypes we had of each other.
23rd June 2011
Today the topic was Professional Competency. The facilitators impressed on us the need to be competent professionally
24th June 2011
After breakfast and the daily briefings the facilitators taught us Professional Competency. This was designed to make become professionals in all that we did. We were taught how to make effective pitches, write CVs and answer questions during interviews.
25th June 2011
We had mock interviews during the morning after breakfast. The objective was to introduce us to the professional world where we needed to prepare CVs and answer questions professionally.
In the afternoon, we went to swim at the Atlantic Ocean. The beach was beautiful and we enjoyed a lot. I was privileged to swim at the Atlantic Ocean.
We came back pretty late at around 2100hrs and we went for dinner. Later we went back to sleep.
26th June 2011
After breakfast and being a Sunday we did not do much. We played football, basketball and some went swimming.
The day ended well and it was a well deserved break.
27th June 2011
After breakfast and daily briefings, we taught Facilitation Skills. The difference between a facilitator and a teacher was highlighted and we were impressed to be facilitators.
In the afternoon, more team building exercises were performed.
28th June 2011
After breakfast and the daily briefings we attended a session on Project Management. We were oriented on how to write a great proposal that could attract funding.
Later we broke into our groups to work on the projects we were given.
29th June 2011
After breakfast and the daily briefings we split into groups to work on the proposal we had been tasked to do previously. This was a great experience for in working together you realize your strong and weak points.
Some of us had gone to the Sipopo Village, the venue for the Heads of State to attend a high level media colloquium on Youth Empowerment.
30th June 2011
After breakfast we were supposed to travel Sipopo village, the venue for the African Heads of State Summit. At around 1230hrs we all travelled to the summit.
The village was a marvel. The architectural design was simply spectacular. It was a sight to behold.
The Heads of States were discussing the issue of Youth Unemployment and there was a debate lined up with the youth and the presidents.
I felt really privileged to have attended the summit where all African Heads of State were meeting and seeing some of them for the first time.
The speeches given at the summit were timely and they resonated well with the overall theme.
We went back to the Cultural Center and had dinner at around 1030hrs then later to the hotel.
1st July 2011
The training had already ended. We recapped the whole training with strong emphasis on the exceptional young people who gave speeches at the Heads of State Summit.
Later, Dr. Asha Mohamed of UNFPA and Jyothi Raja of UNAIDS met with the volunteers who were sponsored by UNFPA. They emphasized that we keep on being active in youth matters and that we should be great examples to the rest. They urged that when we get back to our countries, we should contact our local offices on the youth network ‘Afriyan’ and how we can assist in the attainment of the objectives.
In the afternoon the UNFPA Executive Director Prof. Babatunde Osotimehin came visiting and we had a Question and Answer session with him.
He inspired me a great deal with his personal experience and he urged us to always work hard and never give up.
The closing ceremony was in line at 0700hrs. The ceremony was an emotional one.
Later at the hotel there was a party where certificates were awarded. Then the volunteers danced the whole night.
2nd July 2011
Having danced the whole night, we woke up very late. At 0900hrs we went for breakfast. After breakfast we went for some shopping since we would be going home the next day. We bought souvenirs and other things.
After lunch it was announced that the Minister of Culture was hosting us for a cocktail dinner.
At 1930hrs we left the hotel for the Cultural Center for the cocktail dinner. It was a great dinner for it was the last in Malabo for us.
After dinner we danced till 0100hrs then we went back to the hotel for more dancing till dawn.
3rd July 2011
This was our last day in Malabo in the Equatorial Guinea. It was really difficult to say goodbye for we had created great friends and built strong bonds.
Our bus to the airport left at 0800hrs and we arrived to a full airport with long queues. This was unlike the day we arrived where only our plane was in the airport. Emmanuel, the man who came for us the day we arrived was in handy to ensure that we are processed in time for our flight.
Then it started raining. Our flight was therefore delayed for an hour and a half. That meant we will arrive in Nairobi late.
At 0130hrs, our plane arrived and we boarded. The flight was good except for the gloomy mood that the volunteers had. It was easy to tell that the experience in Malabo was superb and memorable.
We touched down in Jomo Kenyatta International Airport at 0830hrs.
I switched on my phone and Safaricom welcomed me back home.
CONCLUSION
My chance to attend the pre deployment training in Malabo was a great experience and a priceless and memorable experience.
The training was timely and invaluable as were taught on Management Skills, Professional Competency and Life Skills.
Further, the cultural interaction I encountered, the people I met and the networks that I created are simply priceless. After the experience in Malabo I realized that:
1. I am not alone and that my experience is not singular. It is the same all over Africa.
2. My aspirations, dreams, values and desires are the same with other youths of Africa, from the Cape to the Cairo, from Kampala to N’Djamena, Windhoek to Malabo.
3. The youths of Africa have the power, drive and the energy to change the continent.
Again, you appreciate the fact that truly unity in Africa can be achieved. For 130 young people from all over the continent who did not each other came together in Malabo and lived harmoniously with each other and left indelible footprints in each other’s hearts. The power of the youth can be harnessed to bring about unity in Africa.
Finally, the sense of Africanness fills one with a deep sense of pride and love for the continent. When you see amazing young people who are well educated devoting their time to serve the continent to change it, you feel proud to be part of that team.
It is evident that I became a better person and that Malabo June 2011 changed my life forever. This was only possible through the help of the UNFPA to which I am forever grateful.
To the AU-YVC organizing team, I thank you all for the experience.
RECOMMENDATION
1. Let us institutionalize the AU-YVC in the African Union Commission (AUC). Let I be a different department under the commission.
2. Liaison offices should be opened in all member states in order to create more awareness for the program. Having offices will the effect of having a skills bank of trained volunteers who may continue to volunteer in their own countries well after deployment is over.
3. During future trainings, the volunteers should be divided according to their professional skills and qualifications.
4. In Malabo, a lot of time was spent during mealtimes. Time management should be a priority during future trainings.
5. Trips and excursions should be organized as part of the cultural orientation and experience. Let volunteers learn the country they stay in.

Written by:
eddie ombagi
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Eddie Ombagi