Everyday People.

Sometimes I'm right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song
The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then

Makes no difference what group I'm in
I am everyday people

Oh sha sha...

I've written this post before, more times that I care to remember.  Exact same shit, different day, different names.  Random people died out in the badlands?  Nothing new, that shit happens all the time around here and nobody gives a rat's ass, and not because we don't give a rat's ass, but because he can't be bothered to look out for us hoi polloi.  'He whom?' you ask.  Nope, its not the secretary of interiors, nor the inspector of general things, not even the deputy former president for a day, those men are but minions in the greater scheme of things.  These days I reserve my anger for the man himself, el presidente, he that claims to be protecting us.

As random Kenyans were getting shot in the head...

Crazy Africanz

...the man was in Abu Dhabi, watching Formula 1, and possibly signing over more leases and stuff to wealthy Arabs.

I sincerely hope the caption is harmless

Wait, before you go jumping to conclusions, the man wasn't there to have a good time, he was there on business...

The UAE, more than any other country in the Middle East and Africa, has become adept at milking glitzy sports events to craft its image as a leading financial and trading capital—enough to attract massive global investment and to get the world to forget that it is not a democracy.

Kenya's Uhuru, Gabon's Bongo, Seychelles' Michel and Ethiopia's FM were among the dozens of leaders at Yas Marina for the season-ending decider.

Emirates in F1 diplomacy as three African presidents watch Lewis Hamilton become champion

See?  He was there as an investor. 

But wait...

From 1:04 to 1:50

"The location, as has been stated by His Excellency, the president, and through the presentation, opens you up to not just opportunities in Kenya, but also opportunities within East Africa as well as the wider central and southern African countries.

Again, I would like to re-emphasise the issue that we have a free floating currency in Kenya, we have no problem whatsoever with repatriation of profits, so you invest and you take your profits with no problem, there are no regulations , no restrictions [emphasis mine]..."

See, this is why I love the internet.  This little gem is from back in 2011, when el presidente was a lowly Minister for Finance and Deputy Prime Minister.  Yup, our finance minister was proud to tell the foreigners that they could take their profits and bugger off, bila issues.  So what if that meant his government would lose possibly billions in much needed taxes?  Fuck that, this is business, baby, and we is businessmen!  (I'm putting words in his mouth, but am I really?)  And in case you think he was busy spouting his own nonsense without the knowledge of our then super economist prezzo, take a look at 2:06.  That would be Emilio, looking on with what we can only assume is pride (roho safi, after the missus chapad him with the stool he had only one expression left, no?).  Back to Kamwana...

"As I said, President Kibaki's government firmly stands on the principle that government creates an enabling environment, but it is private sector that does business, it is private sector that creates growth and job opportunities. We have created the environment, what we are seeking is for you to make the investment, make your profits, and help us build Kenya, and indeed build our strong relations between our two countries."

This was back in November 2011, during an official state visit as reported here, President His Highness Sheikh Khalifa receives Kenyan President, and here, Kenya, UAE sign agreement to avoid double taxation.  From the second link, Wikileaks no less...

"It is worth while noting that the countries in the region are working together on mechanisms to fast-track the implementation of priority infrastructure development programmes," advised the president.

He, however, underscored that such programmes could only be achieved with adequate resources which the government sought to identify and mobilize in partnership with the private sector and other sources like the Abu Dhabi investors whom he invited to consider.

This foreign investment story deserves a post of its own, but for the purposes of today's discussion all we need to keep in mind is that Abu Dhabi is important to us.  Well, them.  And us.  I hope.  The good news is, prezzo didn’t go to Abu Dhabi specifically to watch Formula 1, he went to do business.  The bad news is, he went to do business.  From an article published in May 2012...

Exports from the UAE to Kenya surged nearly 72 per cent last year, helping the Emirates to surpass China and India to reclaim its position as the largest exporter to the East African country.

The value of exports from the Emirates reached 199 billion Kenyan shillings (Dh8.67bn) last year, almost 72 per cent higher than in the previous year, boosted in part by an increase in oil prices, according to figures from the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS).

It gets better, or worse, depending...

Although investment flows into Kenya from the UAE have been relatively limited, the Abu Dhabi Fund for Development has supported some infrastructure projects in Kenya with grants and loans.

The UAE's Ministry of Economy has said that the Emirates' investment in Africa is expected to increase significantly in the coming years as the UAE continues its economic diversification efforts. The sectors it is interested in developing on the continent include infrastructure, energy, mining, transport and mobile communications, it has said.

In November, Kenya and the UAE signed an agreement to avoid double taxation - part of efforts to develop economic relations between the two countries. All of the UAE's national carriers would be exempt from taxes on commercial profits, according to the agreement.

UAE is once again top exporter to Kenya 

Infrastructure, energy, mining, transport and mobile communications. 

Right. 

Have I told you how much I love the internet?  I do, I really do.  A quick google of 'Abu Dhabi investments Kenya' and the first two pages of results were about the deal signed on 23rd November, 2014.  That would be Sunday.  This past Sunday.  A day after the attack in Mandera.

Kenya and the United Arab Emirates ( UAE) have entered into an investment promotion agreement that is expected to increase the volume of trade between the two countries.

The agreement was signed by National Treasury Cabinet Secretary Henry Rotich and the UAE Minister of State for Financial Affairs Obaid Al Tayer in Abu Dhabi yesterday.

The Promotion and Protection of Investments agreement will see more investments from UAE flowing into Kenya. Kenyan companies will also find it easier to do business in the UAE. The agreement eases trade restrictions and provides assurance for investors in both countries by creating favourable trading conditions.

Kenya inks key trade pact with United Arab Emirates 

See, these buggers are hard at work, no?  Yes, they may be selling our souls to the (almost) white man, but they're working, so stop getting your knickers in a twist because the man didn’t come home when 28 people got shot in the head by idiot terrorists.

twitter

Apologies.  I should have warned you about that image, but I didn’t want to give you a chance to look away.  Folks, but for luck of geography, that could easily be you lying on the ground with your skull blown open and your brains seeping into the ground.  Look again.  That could be any one of us, should we happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Again, apologies, I mean no disrespect to the dead, or the living, I'm just trying to get through to you, rouse your passions as it were.  Every time these attacks occur all we get to see are the sanitised images of a shoe in a pool of blood, with a picture of a candle and a bloody poem.  Not this time.  This time we need to look at how our people, people pretty much exactly like us, are dying. 

Look again.

See, us fancy Nairobi types, with our highways and our coffee shops and our swanky lounge bars, we thought we were above all this madness.  Being slaughtered like animals?  Never!  Then Westgate happened, and that idyllic image was shattered.  Then we eagerly forgot.  We always choose to forget.  Just because you don’t catch a bus or you don’t work in Gikomba, just because you don’t live in the frontier districts or Mombasa, just because you pray to a certain God or pay another, just because you don’t look like a possible victim of random bullshit terrorist attacks, you think you're safe.  One of these days you'll realise you're not, not really.  Not as long as the people we pay to protect us are too busy cutting deals and playing petty politics to do their fucking jobs.

Remember this grand speech...

Wait, no, that's the wrong one.  I meant this one...

The world sees and applauds, as we do, our young men and women in uniform, who, under my command, are bravely fighting AlShabaab’s terrorists at home and abroad. Our diplomats are crucial actors in a troubled region, working to end the conflicts, and fill the vacuums in governance, that allow such terrorist groups room to operate.

The world knows that as a democracy on the frontier against terrorism, our people have been brutally murdered by the same terrorist networks that have sparked mayhem worldwide.

We face these trials with fortitude, knowing that our work to banish insecurity, poverty, and division is our generation’s historic task. It is how our children’s children will remember us.

President Kenyatta's speech during the special sitting of Parliament 

This speech was just lovely.  Except for the minor fact that this was his 'I'm quitting my job for two days so I can go to the court where I'm accused of crimes against humanity' speech.  I suspect the sentiment, while deeply stirring, may not have been entirely, umm, genuine, which is to say its complete bollocks.  Not that this comes as a surprise to us, this speech is a repeat of the Mpeketoni speech, which was a repeat of the Gikomba speech, which was a repeat of...all the way back to the infamous 'don’t show them how high you are' Westgate speech.   Same shitty speech, different day.  But hey, 'Ulinzi Unaanza na Mimi, Ulinzi Unaanza na Wewe'...

Slight detour, why didn’t you people tell me how hilarious this rubbish is?  I'd only seen the crap in the gazeti, but this shit right here...  What!  This is fucking comedy!  How is this man my president?  She wipes tears of hysterical laughter off her cheeks.  Woi.  Detour over.

I am everyday people

Oh sha sha...

28 victims.  28 men and women who were guaranteed, nay, owed the same protection as that given to the government fat cats and slimy opposition politicians, sitting in their cushy offices in the capital, spewing all manner of bile.  These 28 people, everyday people, died in the most gruesome of ways, and all the government does is talk shit.  And beef, sometimes up, security.

Our president...

Fellow Kenyans,

I join fellow Kenyans in mourning the death of 28 innocent Kenyans at the hands of terrorists and bandits in Mandera. This is a terrible and painful blow to the families of the dead, and to our nation. It is a setback to my Government’s effort to confront terrorists and secure Kenyans. As we mourn the fallen, I reiterate my Government’s commitment to assure the safety and security of every Kenyan wherever they are, at all times.

I therefore extend deep condolences on my own behalf and that of peace loving Kenyans from every walk of life and faith.

Following this outrage, our security forces swiftly identified, followed and struck the perpetrators of the murders . Two succesful operations in their hide-outs across the border left more than 100 fatalities, destroyed four technicals and the camp from which this crime was planned. This rapid action underscores a huge victory against regional terrorist networks, and strengthens the promise to deliver Security against internal and external aggression. Whilst This achievement cannot be ignored, I will hasten to add that we are working hard to ensure that Kenya is terror-proof in accordance with the best standards. This involves comprehensive systemic adjustments to ensure that the structural and operational dimensions of our security system do justice to the nation’s expectations of a consistently effective, accountable and professional service. I commend of our defence forces for their continued efforts to protectour people and country. I urge unrelenting vigilance and swift, decisive response to any threats, and unrelenting service to our people.

STATEMENT IN LIGHT OF THE ATTACK ON A BUS IN MANDERA ON 22 NOVEMBER 2014 

Mr President, in a most comprehensive and systemic fashion, kindly kiss the structural and operational dimensions of my fat black ass.

Fellow Kenyans, my lovelies, we are everyday people.  Be safe.

I am no better and neither are you
We are the same, whatever we do
You love me, you hate me, you know me and then
You can't figure out the bag I'm in

I am everyday people
I am everyday people

Oh sha sha...

Same wheel, new angle.

You know that list of seven women I’d happily shag, the one that has Pink?  It has a new addition.  Even better, a new number one.  I am officially head over heels in love with, and in lust for, this woman...

(I don't know how to stop this from playing automatically, dammit! You might want to press pause, or turn down the volume...)

It’s not often I stumble across new music that takes my breath away.  More often than not, when I discover something 'new' I find out it’s actually old, sometimes even older than I am (stop sniggering), and worse still, the old is almost always better than the new.  That makes me sound like a geriatric music snob, no?  I’m not...well, not entirely, I am geriatric (really, stop sniggering), but I’m definitely not a snob.  I am truly open to the idea that someone somewhere will one day wake up and figure out how to reinvent the wheel.  Only, as with all things wheel reinvention, that’s damn near impossible to achieve.  These days what tends to happen is someone comes along and reveals a previously unseen angle to said wheel; a close up of a worn tread, or a microscopic look at the molecules of rubber.  Same wheel, new angle.  That’s what today’s artist did.  She’s allegedly a soul artist, but a quick listen to her second album proves she’s much more.  She’s closer to the eclectic purple end of the spectrum, which is to say I can’t quite figure out where to place her in the grand scheme of things.  And I love her all the more for it.

The video up top, the one I know you haven’t played, is a live performance of her cover of Cee Lo Green’s ’Fool For You’.  That’s the first time I saw/heard her and let me tell you, I was flabbergasted.  Yes, she gasted my flabber.  I was sitting there mid morning, in my pyjamas, drinking masala tea and scrolling though headlines on my phone, generally paying no attention to the show playing in the background on TV.  Then she started singing and my world came to an abrupt halt.  See, I had never heard the song before, original or cover, which as is turns out is quite shameful considering the original won Mr Green two Grammy’s in 2012.  I know, I claim to know these things, but I don’t, not really (in my defence, I was on a Grammy boycott that year after they denied my man Raheem in 2011, but that story has already been told, I shall not detour).  This was one of those instances when my ignorance was bliss, and oh what bliss it was...

Sweet sugar, I surrender, I don’t want no other man,

Baby, you win,

And you ain’t never got to worry, ever got to worry,

You’ll never be alone again,
There’s nothing, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do,
Girl, that’s somebody there, everybody know who I’m talking to,

I’m a fool, such a fool for you...

I know the lyrics aren’t hers, but she sings this the way Cee Lo, quite frankly, never can (his version is in the soundtrack thingi).  Hell, if I didn’t know better I’d be convinced she’s Kenyan, the way she’s grabbed the song from the man, complete with genuine fake title and ef’thing.  Seriously though, this performance is everything a classic performance should be, tight as fuck with a climax that leaves you drained.  Ahem.  It is therefore inevitable she ended up on this page, and at the top of my list, displacing Ms Tina.  Don’t look at me like that, yes, I would shag Tina Turner.  Have you not seen her legs?  And her glorious lion mane of a wig?  Haven’t you heard her sexy, sexy growl of a voice?  Come now, of course she was at the top of the list, she sniffs haughtily, offended that you have the audacity to question her dubious fantasy shag choices.  Again, ahem.

You know how I said I wouldn’t detour?  I lied.  All that was one long detour.  Apologies, but I needed to introduce my Alice to you before I could proceed with the tale I came to tell you.  This post began life with (what I not so humbly consider) the best song on the album 'She', 'Another Love', a most addictive 80’s pop sounding track that, on first listen, crawled into my that corner of my brain reserved for important information and refused to leave.  I admit I got derailed by the fool song, but only because I was avoiding my tale. Stop feigning surprise, I do this deflecting thing all the time, no?

The last three or so months I’ve been dealing with love and loss, and loneliness, a fair bit of which is not mine.  I’m not sure if it’s the season (winter/cold, discontent, all that jazz), or that I’m attracting like minded individuals by virtue of the constantly melancholic vibes I’m sending out into the universe, but I seem to be having this conversation more often than usual.  Lovers leaving and leaving lovers, lovers who won’t come back and going back to lovers, lovers we want to replace and irreplaceable lovers...

You said I was what you wanted, liar, liar,
You never wanted me that way,

If you don’t like it right here, why would you stay here?
Just to be taken all I did, babe, everything...

The end of a relationship is never an easy thing to talk about. In between apportioning blame for failure, real or perceived, and pretending that everything is fine only to slip and fall flat on your face again, then waking up and pretending even worse, all this in the middle of the never ending analysis in your head, seems putting coherent thoughts together is an almost impossible task.  How do you talk about someone you never had leaving you without sounding like an insane would be stalker?  How do you mourn the end of a relationship you’re secretly glad is over?  How do fill the gap he left in your already too empty life?  How do find your way back to that woman you lost and hope to find again?  How do you get past betrayal and repair a relationship that may just irreparable?  How do you finally let go and start over?

I tried to be what you wanted, but I’m tired, I’m tired,
I don’t really need you anyway.

There’s nothing here to fight for, baby, be on your way,
You can’t be taking what I give, babe, all I give...

I don’t know what it is I may have said on these pages that gives the impression I have the answers to these questions.  Reading through old posts I’ve done on break ups, make ups and everything in between, I think it’s safe to say I do not have this shit figured out.  At all.  It’s okay, you can laugh at me, I just had a wee chuckle myself.  My lovelies, if ever there was a person not to talk to about relationships, it’s me.  Then again, the fact that I know how fucked up I am may be why I am the right person to talk to, no?  No, dammit.  Either way, I’m always happy to listen to someone else’s tale, figuring perhaps their tale may have the answers to my own.  My tale right now is not so much loss as it is inevitability, I’m having one of those irritating 'stranded in some vague limbo of neither here nor there' moments, reluctant to go back, but scared to move forward.  I can’t really explain it better right now, I’ve been trying to put it in words for months with absolutely no success.  Short of drawing you a picture, literally...she throws her hands up in defeat (that bit is not literal, obviously). 

Transition.  That’s the word.

If you don’t like it, baby
Find another love, another love
You don’t have the right to take it
I’ll find another, another, another, another...

To anyone out here who’s currently dealing with loss, of any kind, take comfort in the knowledge that there are quite a few of us dealing with it too, and just as horribly as you are.  I know that’s cold comfort, but you need to take what you can get, my friend, and all you’ll get here is vague affirmations and useless clichés, such as I tend to spew when lost for words.  Some relationships end, some don’t.  Some can be repaired, some can’t.  Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes you move on to bigger and better things, sometimes you end up with another idiot.  Such is life, unfortunately.

If you don’t want me, baby
I’ll find another, another, another love
You don’t have the right to break me
I’ll find another, another, another love
You don’t have to stay

You don’t have to stay...

On the up side, and there is always an up side here at Kai Ni Kii?, I have a new woman, Alice.  Alice Smith.

A picture is (in this case, literally) worth a thousand words.

You know things are bad when the intro to a post is a cartoon, but in my defence, it's Pinky and the Brain.  Don't look at me like that, this here is profound.  Hell, it's more profound than I'm feeling right now.  When all else fails, my lovelies, always turn to the mice.

Noreaga, Genghis Khan, Saddam Hussein, and me the Brain, 

we all have this one thing in common: we are into world domination.
(It's a new sensation, try it and you'll feel elation.)
It's the gift to give the guy who wants everything. 

I haven’t talked about siasa for three months, not because there's nothing to talk about, but because there's nothing new to say.  The government is still being special, the opposition is still trying to locate its own ass(hole) and the media are still doing whatever the fuck it is they do when they're not reporting news.  Seriously, I can reblog the posts from June, with only slight modification of names and dates, and they would still be as relevant today as they were back then.  Nothing has changed.  Hang on, that's not entirely accurate.  Al Shabaab have left us alone these past few months, which could either mean the cops are hard at work, or the terrorists weren’t as hard at work as we were led to believe.  I choose to go with the hard working cops theory, as implausible as it is, because the 'it wasn’t the terrorists throwing grenades' theory is a bit of a rabbit hole, the type of rabbit hole that has you written off as a nutter should you choose to wander down that path.  I'm already a nutter, so no, not going there.  With this in mind...

So the prezzo?  Sema superstar!  At the rate things are going he may just turn out to be the long awaited redeemer, returned to save us from a painful eternity in the bowels of hell.  But wait...

This reminds me of something...  “And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strawed them in the way.” 

I'm just saying, what started off as a seemingly harmless exercise of remaking him in Barack's image has now gone above and beyond. 

These days the man is Jack Bauer...

There's no for jokes...

Rambo...

source: twitter
And he carries his own chair, so there.

Rambo wa maji...

source: twitter
Putting the C back in C in C.

Walker Texas Ranger...

source: twitter
Yee haw!

Just blowing shit up...

source: twitter
See how the ship goes boom!

and chasing bad guys down.

source: twitter
He just had to get on the motorcycle.

Inspiring others to do the same...

source: twitter
Be the best that you can be.

(Military takeovers!)

Governmental makeovers!

(Coup d'état will be confined!)

It keeps your junta occupied. 

And when he's not out saving the world, he's preaching democracy to all that will listen...

source: twitter
From the podium at the UN no less.  ICC for what?

source: twitter
Maybe not to this guy though, this one he sought advice from, on how to manage oil wealth.

A man of the people...

source: twitter
Look at him walking to his office, with his little blonde friend.

source: twitter
I haven't seen flags like those at State House since...

with the people...

source: twitter
He'll talk to you...

source: twitter
...and dance with you...

source: twitter
...drink with you...

source: twitter
...he'll even eat with you.  Yes sir, we know, that right there is the shiznit.

occasionally, he's even one of the people...

source: twitter
Its not every day the CEO of KQ escorts a private citizen to his plane, is it?

He's a loving husband...

source: twitter
That's one hell of a suit he has on, especially the left arm...

Best friend...

source: twitter
He knows Billy will be waiting for him at the airport...

source: twitter
...always.
Brings a tear to my eye.

Proud boss...

source: twitter
Because its not at all strange that a CS would have the president at her homecoming, or that she's having a homecoming.

Manager of all things digital...

source: twitter
The land registry...

source: twitter
...KRA...

source: twitter
...even the biometric thingamajig.  This is the new 500M one, because the 7B one worked so well.

Mkulima Number One...

source: twitter
Tubers can be fascinating...

source: twitter
...very fascinating.

source: twitter
I have no idea what's going on here, but it looks suspect.  Nay, fowl.
(I know its bad, but you can't have a picture of a chicken and not make a fowl joke.)

and a rally enthusiast...

source: twitter
Lakini that thumbs up is in kuyo...

He also has a passion for the arts...

source: twitter
See the art installation on the left, with what appears to be mounting going on, very artistic.

source: twitter

He does loves a good boy band, no?

Ah Mr President, you are the man.

source: news.com.au
I know, I feel it too.

So, if you have a calculator, you can be a great dictator. 

Let each country that you covet equal X (You're gonna love it!) multiply by Y not try it, 

If the people start to riot, you can always say that they are just a bunch of kooks. 

People just need to be led!

(By a mouse with a big head!)

To their weakness, they'll succumb!

(If you give them chewing gum!) 

It may bother them a bit.

(But they'll soon get over it)

They won't whine when I'm the Czar of all that we see, near and far! 

And so it came to pass...

The wedding was attended.  A couple of weekends back.  Yes, that wedding, and no, nothing dramatic happened.  I went, I saw, I clapped and took pictures, I danced and I drank, and then the following day I went to watch rugby.  The end.  Only, that isn’t all there was to it, is it?  Of course not, when have you ever known me to be that simple?

I saw my love
Walking down the aisle
And as he passed me by
He turned to me and
Gave me a smile...

When I first talked about this wedding last year, the reactions I got were quite strong.  Seems in talking about the end of my relationship with Mr 'the feelings are gone', and the pathetic mess I was, and the pathetic mess I believed I was no longer, and my surprising joy at his impending nuptials, seems in all that I touched a nerve.  Or a live wire.  I was informed immediately thereafter, in rather unequivocal terms, to give up on my foolish idea that the man and I would be friends and that I was a fool to think that it would work.  Being that I am quite stubborn, I penned a most belligerent, nay, feisty response, telling my well meaning counsellor to go jump.  Life is too short, I said, to get stuck on an old hurt.  And then I sat back and let the idea he planted in my head take root and germinate, patiently growing ever so slowly in the back of my mind.  By the time the wedding plans were finally under way, three or so months later, I was convinced that the best thing I could do was to stay well out them.  Save for the odd bi-monthly update on the phone or in the bar, I had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding.  He didn’t call me to ask me to show up for the ruracio, I didn’t call him to ask him about the stag night.

Detour.  Of course I called to ask about the stag night.  Come now, do you not know me at all?  This was my one chance at being invited to one, I wasn’t going to pass it up because of some dodgy ideas about keeping a respectful distance.  Fuck propriety, I was going to the whore house.  Or not.  As it turned out, the plan was to have a stag weekend in Mombasa.  Now while I am very foolish, evidently, even I know there is no way I can get away with an overnight trip to a whore house, just me and the fellas.  Can you imagine having that convo with the missus(es)?  Yes, the convo would be had, because those men cannot keep a secret, and their women (from what little I’ve seen) are quite forward, which is to say they scare me a little, they look at me like they can see their men’s sins in my eyes.  So I killed that tagging along for the stag plan, although in truth the plan had already been killed for me.  The fellas were none too amused with the idea of me joining them...hang on, do you think that’s why they took it out of town, or claimed to?  Woi, those bastards probably went up the road to No.28 and didn’t tell me.  You should see the sadness on my face right now.  Detour over.

I didn’t get involved in the wedding, which felt odd because my ex and I used to be quite close, but I was suitably convinced that being involved would be even odder for all parties involved.  You buggers convinced me, see?  If I was planning my wedding and my future hubby’s ex was hovering around being all helpful, I would probably get it into my mind to slap her.  It’s not that I’m violent or such like (I am), I just think brides are quite evil, and vicious, and I can only assume that’s what will happen to me if I ever go down that path.  Stop scoffing, stranger shit has happened, no?  No.  Ah well...  Problem is, by choosing to step back, I created a distance that made a not too awkward situation very awkward.  Can you believe I forgot what the would be missus looked like?  I went for one of those goat-eating thingis a month before the wedding, and his cousin introduced me to her like we had never met, because my idiot ass had no recollection.  She remembered me, of course.  You know that moment when you wish the ground would open up and swallow you, and then time would rewind itself to 15 minutes before you arrived, such that it never happened?  Wait, if time is rewound then there’s no need for ground swallowing, is there?  Stop splitting hairs, you finicky bastards.  I was mortified and, worse still, I think my shame was very evident on my face. Damn my goldfish memory!  Why couldn’t it remember the one person I needed to remember at that table?  Why, dammit, why?  I recovered well enough to not be dis-invited to the wedding.  Here’s a handy tip, when caught with foot firmly lodged in mouth, complement a woman’s luscious locks, or her shoes, and then make a self deprecating joke about the deteriorating state of your memory (slap forehead for emphasis) and/or the deteriorating state of your ass (a gracious woman will always sympathise when you confess to struggling with weight issues).  When all else fails, buy a round of drinks, the more expensive the better.  Laugh now, but the day you find yourself in a hole of your own digging, you shall remember my words.

Then the preacher
Then the preacher
The preacher joined their hands
And all the people
The people began to stand
When I shouted

It should have been me...

I sat in church a couple of weekends back, staring at a man I once thought I would marry, watching him marry another woman and I couldn’t help think, was that supposed to be me?  It was surreal.  Part of me was doing that thing women do at weddings, dissecting everything from the flowers to the choice of music, because we know we could have done it better (don’t even try to pretend you don’t do it).  Part of me was thinking about my feet, uncharacteristically shod in rather sexy pumps that were trying to squeeze the life out of my pinkie toes, and succeeding.  Part of me was thinking that I will probably never end up at any altar, if only because I am not a believer and therefore will not be caught dead in a church getting married.  I’ll probably be caught dead in a church at my funeral, but I won’t really be there so that’s fine.  And part of me knew that I was never going to end up at the altar with that man, but I was still sitting there thinking, what if I had?  In the 10 or so minutes it took them to say their vows, I went over the highlights reel of my relationship with him, beginning to end, and all I kept thinking was, this was never, ever gonna happen.  The man standing on that podium was not the man I dated, the man I dated was an idiot in an Arsenal shirt (that shirt is what made him an idiot, in case you were wondering, and yes, I went there) with a Malt in hand at every possible opportunity.  This chap in front of me in a sharpish suit, blushing bride by his side, was a peculiar future version of the idiot.  A version I never envisioned, to be completely honest.  Just goes to show how prophetic I am, no?

See?  Self deprecating humour works a charm.

Then the preacher, whoa, yeah
The preacher asked that
There be silence please
If any objections to this wedding
Speak now or forever
Forever hold your peace...

The song is Yvonne Fair’s version of 'It Should Have Been Me', the anthem to all women who have ever dreamt of stopping a wedding in a most dramatic fashion.  I first stumbled across this song about 5 years ago, hidden near the end of CD2 of a classic soul hits set (I suspect I got it from Paco, I’m still trawling through the shitload of old music he gave me, bless his pointy toed behind).  I was blown away, such as I tend to be, first by her voice, then by the lyrics which for some reason always get me laughing.  There’s something about the way she says 'po-lice' that gets me clapping in joy.  Testify woman!  The reason its my soundtrack today?  I once played it for this ex, threatening him that I was going to storm his wedding and sing my heart out, up and down that aisle.  He laughed, but I saw real fear in his eyes.  I don’t think he’s ever recovered from seeing me cry, poor thing, I may have scarred him for life.  Please insert very evil laughter here.  When the pastor asked the question, I started chuckling. And humming...

Oh, ho, somebody call the police
That woman down there
Is a doggone thief

It should have been me
It should have been me
Oh, oh, It should have been me...

I must pull this stunt one day, how often do you get to say doggone, and in a church no less? 

I felt like a stranger at that wedding.  That’s what safe/respectful/none of my business distance does.  I got so caught up in all my over-thinking nonsense that I forgot, a. my friend was getting married, and b. I was of no relevance in that story.  Rather than back off, I should have listened to my own advice and just gotten on with being happy and shit.  Yes, I was at the wedding, smiling in the photos and dancing to the happy songs, but in some ways I wasn’t really there.  It’s taken me two weeks of processing and a couple of hours writing this to get to the comfortable place where I can laugh about being foolish about nothing.  Foot in mouth?  Been there, done that, planning on going back soon. The wedding that never was?  Well it wasn’t meant to be, was it?  Respectful distance?  Ptuh!  Like anyone other than me gave a damn.

Which brings me to the moral of this tale.   Do not listen to anything anyone has to say on this blog.  Except me, I’m always right.  No?  Too far a leap?  I had to try.  The real moral to this story, sometimes it’s best to just leave things be.  And sometimes your first instincts are the right instincts, no matter how wise the counsel you’re given may sound.  Life really is too short to be stuck in your head over analysing everything.

Introducing...Savvy!

This post is fucking hilarious.  I had to say it, upfront.  I'm itching to let you get on with it, but before you do I must introduce my most illustrious guest.  Ladies and gentlemen, meet Ms Savvy, recent inhabitant of the comments section here in our little corner of the interwebs.  She's a blogger of many years (Savvy Kenya), hell, she's pretty much blog royalty in my book.  She's a techie, mother, AFC fan, writer, new car owner (just saying)...  Have I left anything out?  Ah yes, she's off to Japan in a few days to get herself a second MSc in Artificial Intelligence and such like, because one MSc is just never enough, is it?  She's sharp, is all I'm saying, in both mind and wit.  And she has a wee fondness for our little sewer.  Which brings me to this post...for real, I’m so excited I'm clapping, while I type...my lovelies, there is nothing better than an intelligent woman who can talk smut, smart, as you shall soon discover.

As always the disclaimer. This is a tale from the sewer and therefore it will be both rude (but only slightly) and crude (maybe slightly more), but, and I don’t often get to say this here, in a very good way. If you blush at the mention of porn, you might want to leave now...

How to make (good) pornography.

On Sundays, Kenyans on twitter are rather idle, and there is always something brewing. Nothing ever serious though, just trivial things blown out of proportion for the entertainment of us, idle tweeps. Like recently, there was talk of 37 million shillings. A chick had turned down 37M in return for her phone number! If someone offered me 37M for my phone number, I’d even draw them a map to my shagz. Everyone on my timeline was wondering how that was possible, they were all fantasizing about what they could do with 37M if they got it. Sadly, nothing imaginative though, beyond buying land and maybe some ugly Range Rover (I am seriously digressing, Alex-style, but hear me out). I am always curious and rarely jump into discussions without knowing their origins. I found the original tweet and it went like, “A dude last night was trying to impress me into giving him my number be saying he sealed a deal of 37 million.” Now I understand, I also wouldn’t give such a person my number! He was probably just a broker and his cut could be 37K only. Wealthy people don’t talk about their money. Which reminds, there was the time I thought had met a rich politician, a guy who talked about money on the very first time we met accidentally. So much for the shopping trips to London & Paris, nkt! Now a girl has to go and make her own money, SMH.

Back to the topic at hand, enough of the detour. On another idle Sunday, I stumbled on people talking about a Florence Wambui. I immediately did a search on twitter for the name. I stumbled on the original account, describing herself as “Kenya’s Most Famous Porn Star” and “Queen of Anal” or something along those lines. I didn’t bother with the tweets, they weren’t likely to be witty anyway. I started scrolling through the pics, and my oh my! Gross & grotesque pictures of her licking some not-so-good-looking pale dick, pictures of her getting some dick anally (she insists you must use a condom if anal), blurry pictures in lodgings (likely those that have different coloured slippers), and a few pictures of her in clothes. Pictures of her with cum on her face (how the fuck is this sexy? Sorry digressing again). And so on, and so forth. She looks way better in clothes than without.

So my tweet on the topic was something like “Florence Wambui: Now I cannot unsee what I just saw”. And Alex responded that she thought the porn pics were of rather poor quality. I agreed 100%. Not that I am a big consumer of porn, but I don’t have to be an expert to tell you that porn pics should hold your attention in a positive way, should at least be a contributing factor in turning you on, rather than be a big turn off. They’re there to whet your appetite, not to make you lose it. So here I am writing a guide for good porn (pics).

First of all, sexual organs, dicks & pussies, are decidedly unsexy (this post should come with a caveat for family unfriendly language haha). They rarely look good on camera. Which is why a combination of Brazilian waxing, makeup, photoshop and video graphics are vital when taking and publishing porn pics online. The angle of taking the picture, the lighting, the mood (hehe) all have to contribute in making everything as attractive as inhumanly-possible. Same goes for the supporting body parts, thighs, arms, faces etc. Waxing. Make up. Photoshop. Video enhancing graphics. Surgically enhance body parts if necessary. For everyone who will appear in the picture/video. This leads me to the second tip of the guide.

The camera and lighting is everything. When the subject is coated in enough make up, under a very good camera, anyone can create that fantasy image popular in porn. Don’t take photos with your Nokia Asha and upload them unedited. If you’re going to be Kenya’s number porn star, please put some effort into it. I see it with our “socialities”, for example see Huddah’s latest hoodie photos. Get a good camera, those with lenses you can replace. Then get a good set of lights. I am not a good photographer, I am not even a poor photographer; but these are the basics, everybody knows it. You cannot make a porno without investing in a good camera, a set of lights and those reflector things. Fine, let’s say you have a high end phone, like my current phone with 13MP (but do I say). In good natural lighting, it can take some very nice pics. There might come (sic) a moment when you don’t have your camera and have to take the picture with your phone. This is where filters come in. Instagram has filters. Pixer-or-matic is another app full of good filters. Make good use of them to mask the imperfect, enhance the good features and create the fantasy. And come to think of it, you should really not be taking spontaneous pics, rather pose every moment to perfection. How else will you get people to buy your porn?

I am going to take a break here to rant a bit. Porn is fantasy. They have made things like cumming in someone’s eye(!) or anal sex (for women) attractive. I think all it does is make your asshole loose and sooner rather than later you may have to wear adult diapers. Anal is just not my thing (sorry Flo!) but I think her target audience is sex pests tourists. Someone explained to me the pleasure in anal sex for men, something about the prostrate being rubbed and you feel good. If you’re a man reading this, and have had your prostrate checked, is it true? But anyway, porn caters to people’s fantasies, be it dick-milking machines or horses or whatever. Just don’t try that shit in real life. Haha… Okay, back to my last point on this guide.

I can’t say I have watched local porn, but it exists. Luo, Kikuyu porn. In campus, there is a dude who had Kyuk porn on his flash disk but he deleted it before I could watch. Nothing as wrong as hearing sex talk in your mother tongue, but maybe that’s just me. So I am not sure if they have such a thing as concept, plot or storyline. Since porn = fantasy (I am glad we agree on this point), then create the fantasy, act out the part, and deliver. Find the perfect location, or create the backdrops and props so required. A good camera, good lighting. The storyline: school girl & teacher, MILF, best friends, etc. Of course when all is said and done, it basically gets down to the mashing of body parts together and we go back to point #1. Makeup for the bodies to be flawless, evenly toned, and very attractive.

Oh, Kenyans reported the original Florence Wambui account and it got suspended, but she resurfaced with another account, just search the name you may find it on twitter. She wants to be president in 2017, I guess following in the footsteps of Kingwa Kamencu, who released some nudes recently. I think I have surpassed the word count limit, let me stop here.