I bid thee adieu

Dear Alcohol,

As you know, you and I have experienced a lengthy, love/hate, relationship.  When our times are good, they are spectacular, but when our times get rough, I sometimes wish that we had never met at all.

     

So far, in my 26 years of life, the good times have outweighed the bad times, but let me be honest alcohol, the negative is catching up like a boogey man in a horror movie.

     

Where should I begin?  To get it all out in the open, I grew up with, and lived most of my life with, a parent who struggled with your powerful grip.  My earliest memories include those of confusion and misunderstanding about your relationships with those who were, and still are, very close to me, and of whom I love very much. As I look back, I remember the thickness of the cloud of smoke that surrounded our living room and burned my eyes.  I probably needed a "fresh air" break every 30 minutes, just as much as my Dad needed me to reload his Embassy Superior Milds every 30 minutes to clear my head. I still marvel at how I did not end up a smoker.

     

As for my history with you alcohol, we never really clicked until I was about 19 years old.  I remember my Dad giving my siblings and i sips of his beer as we were growing up and thinking, "holy crap, this stuff is terrible".  I can't remember when I made the decision that the payoff of the beer buzz, was worth the choking down of the stuff, to get it.

     

Alcohol, you know as well as I do, that we really started developing our relationship when I entered my first semester of school at the University of Nairobi.  We were together pretty much 4 or 5 days per week.  Most of our days were spent in the company of some amazing individuals of whom I still keep contact with, and mean the world to me. 

     

By this era in our lives, we were at a time and place where we didn't know what we wanted to do with our futures.  At the time, we pretty much decided that partying and drinking were far more entertaining than dealing with responsibility, so we continued our experimentation.  We spent more time perfecting our "bottoms up" technique and "kutwanga dry" skills, than studying, or attending class.

     

To this day, I still can not come up with the words to describe some of the odors and sounds that I had to endure on those extra early (11:30 AM) mornings in a room full of hangover, gaseous, 20 year old men.  I must admit, the smell factor was exemplified exponentially by my own efforts and contributions, but not to take anything away from my partners, we all put forth quality performances, which in turn added to the potency, and intensity, of our man-symphony.  Let me offer a tiny piece of advice, a combination of ‘Mtura ya man Njoro’ and ‘Macups aka Senator Keg” can make for a toxic concoction of flatulent nerve agent.  We spent some of our best times together reminiscing about previous nights while breathing in this horrid man-wind.

     

It is because of you alcohol that I began loosing sight of my future.  Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now but I believe that it’s about time we call it quits.

     

Don't get me wrong alcohol, there were times we have shared in the past that have been wonderful, but also times in the past that I wish never existed. You've been the invoker        of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just didn't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. It is clear to me that you are a force that I will continue to have to monitor for the remainder of my days here on Earth.

Adios old friend.

     

Regards,                    

      Morpheus

Work Avoidance-The complete guide

So some of you..especially the idlers constantly surfing the net and mistaking it for having a life..may have noticed that I’ve not posted a note or written on my blog for a while. (the blog is published under a pseudo name to avoid repercussions from the poor sods  I use as fodder)

Having resolved to get a life-read job- and be good at it, I had been busy bootlicking, spit shining, backstabbing, ass kissing and doing all that pertains to ensuring my smooth ascent up the corporate ladder.

Now all those who know me may harbour serious doubts on my ability to do the above let alone actually work..and their doubts will not be displaced. I’m happy to announce that after much research, I have finally managed to pull my face off out of my boss’ rectum and still keep my job and here’s how you can do so too:

1. Never walk without a document in your hands.

People with documents in their hands look like hardworking employees heading for important meetings. People with nothing in their hands look like they're heading for the cafeteria. People with a newspaper in their hand look like they're heading for the toilet. Above all, make sure you carry loads of stuff home with you at night, thus generating the false impression that you work longer hours than you do.

2. Use Computers to look busy

Any time you use a computer, it looks like "work" to the casual observer. You can send and receive personal e-mail, chat and generally have a blast without doing anything remotely related to work. These aren't exactly the societal benefits that the proponents of the computer revolution would like to talk about but they're not bad either. When you get caught by your boss - and you *will* get caught -- your best defence is to claim you're teaching yourself to use new software, thus saving valuable training shillings.

3. Messy Desk

Top management can get away with a clean desk. For the rest of us, it looks like we're not working hard enough. Build huge piles of documents around your workspace. To the observer, last year's work looks the same as today's work; it's volume that counts. Pile them high and wide. If you know somebody is coming to your cubicle, bury the document you'll need halfway down in an existing stack and rummage for it when he/she arrives.

4. Voice Mail

Never answer your phone if you have voice mail. People don't call you just because they want to give you something for nothing - they call because they want YOU to do work for THEM. That's no way to live. Screen all your calls through voice mail. If somebody leaves a voice mail message for you and it sounds like impending work, respond during lunch hour when you know they're not there - it looks like you're hardworking and conscientious even though you're being a devious weasel.

5. Looking impatient and annoyed.

According to George Costanza (yes, that nut from Seinfield, gives good advise though) one should also always try to look impatient and annoyed to give your bosses the impression that you are always busy.

6. Leave the office late.

Always leave the office late, especially when the boss is still around. You could read  magazines and storybooks that you always wanted to read but have no time until late before leaving. Make sure you walk past the boss' room on your way out. Send important emails at unearthly hours (e.g. 9:35pm, 7:05am, etc.) and during public holidays. 

7. Creative Sighing for Effect.

Sigh loudly when there are many people around, giving the impression that you are under extreme pressure.

8. Stacking Strategy

It is not enough to pile lots of documents on the table. Put lots of books on the floor etc. (thick legal statutes and journals work best for me).

9. Build Vocabulary.

Read up on your area of expertise and pick out all the jargon and new products/developments. Use the phrases freely when in conversation with bosses. Remember: They don't have to understand what you say, but you sure sound impressive.

10. MOST IMPORTANT.

Make sure your boss never comes by this list by mistake!!

VOICES

Can you hear the voices?

Can you hear their cries?

Do you know there here with me?

Watching you through my eyes

Do you know there in my head?

Do you know sometimes they take control?

Do you know there’s more than one of me?

Do you know I have three souls?

They talk to me you know

Tell me to do bad things

It really scares me

When one of them starts to sing

“Knock knock, I’m in your head

Bang bang I want you dead

I’ll kill your family, friends too

But what I want to kill, is you!”

I did try to ignore them

I swear at first I tried

But I can get rid of them

There always watching from inside

What’s that?

What did you say?

You want me to kill them?

To make them pay?

Don’t’ be scared

They can be your friends too

Well they could be.. but

They’ve asked me to kill you

They’re in my head

They want you dead

But I’m going to let you off

And kill myself instead

This lonesome World

Man is alone in the world. A woman expects a baby, but that baby in particular, that character? No. She does not even know what sex it will be, she would not recognise a photograph of it when grown. And in death there is eternal isolation. That will be my Hell. I am afraid of dying, but i know my fear is a sin.


By language men have made a show of congregation or society, because the individual is not born with language but learns to navigate with its means, which have been developed and bequeathed by dead men. This sense of being part of something greater is in fact an illusion. A man and woman may live together all their lives and still know little of the essence of the other. They rarely surprise each other, because what is essential to each is never communicated.


Like language, art struggles with what is common, to disturb the individual habit of perception and, by disturbing it, to enable men to see what has been lived and seen by others. By upsetting, therefore, it tries to soothe, because it hopes to free each person from the tyranny of solitude.


No child born knows the world he is entering, and at the moment of his birth he is a stranger to his parents. When he dies, many years later, there may be regrets among those left behind that they never knew him better, but he is forgotten almost as soon as he dies because there is no time for others to puzzle out his life. After a few years he will be referred to once or twice by a grandchild, then by no one at all. Unknown at the moment of birth, unknown after death. This weight of solitude! A being unknown. 


And yet, if i believe in God, i am known. On the tombs of the English soldiers, the ones too fragmented to have a name, they wrote ‘Known unto God’. By this they meant that here was a man, who did once have arms and legs and a father and a mother, but they could not find all the parts of him-least of all his name.


God will know me, even as i cannot know myself. If He created me, then He has lived with me. He knows the nature of my temptations and the manner of my failing. So i am not alone. I have for my companion the creator of the world.


At the hour of my death i would wish to be ‘Known unto God’.

A Kenyan's Guide To Kenya

I've often been terribly disappointed by the tourist guidebooks written about Kenya. Most of the time they tell you stuff you already know, like "you can go on safari and see some lions." That's probably why you wanted to come here in the first place, so that's not helpful. Other times they give you all manner of useless information. For example: what's the point of telling you how to ask for directions in Kiswahili if you're not going to understand the answer? (Sometimes they seem to be written by a malicious Kenyan who hates tourists. One time I was lying on the beach and was accosted by an earnest American who said, "Jambo. Nyinyi muna kula viazi?" First of all, no Kenyan says "Jambo." Secondly, I was lying on the beach, I was alone and I definitely wasn't eating potatoes.) 

These books never tell you about all the amazing people you can meet in Kenya, or how to understand what they're saying. Determined to correct this horrible wrong, I'm issuing the first of many useful, practical tips for our many visitors. Herewith Volume I of "A Kenyan's guide to Kenya." (Disclaimer: this is written from a Nairobi perspective. Other parts of the country are a whole other story and will cost you extra.) 

Here's what you should know: 

When we want you to pass us something – the salt, say – we'll point with our mouths. Example: We'll catch your eye then say, "Nani." Then we'll use our mouths to point at the desired object. This is achieved by a slight upward nod followed by an abrupt thrusting out of the lower lip, which is pointed in the object's general direction. There's no explanation for this. ("Nani" can be roughly translated as, oh I don't know, "Whats-your-face," "You," or "Thingie." We're unfailingly polite.) 

Frequently, and for no reason whatsoever, we'll refer to a person as "another guy." However, this MUST be pronounced/slurred thus: An-aa guy. This also applies to "the other day," which is when some momentous event in our lives always took place. We do the same thing with Kiswahili words like 'bwana', which is pronounced 'bana.' 
Example: "I was driving in town the aaa day and this guy comes from nowhere and cuts me off, bana. Man I abused him!" 'Abused' in this sentence must be drawn out and emphasised for maximum effect: a-BUSE-d. 

We claim to speak English and Kiswahili, which technically means that we should be able to communicate with the English-speaking world and Tanzania. What we really mean is that if you're not Kenyan you won't understand a damn word we say or why we say it. 
Example: "Sasa" in Kiswahili means "now." We use it as a greeting. 
Correct usage: "Sasa?" "Ah, fit." It confuses us that Tanzanians don't understand this. 

We also, just as randomly, might greet you by saying, "Otherwise?" Common response: "Uh-uh." There is no explanation for this. 

Kenyans are multi-lingual, but all this means is that we believe that if we translate something word for word from one language to another it will make sense. A Kenyan might say, for example, "You mean you're not brothers? But you look each other!" Be kind, they just think that muna fanana can slip into English unfiltered. Speaking of filters, that's why some people (tribe/ethnicity withheld to protect my uncles) will claim to 'drink' cigarettes. If you're not Kenyan you won't understand this. Let it go. 

We can buy beers at police stations. Grilled meat too. Heck, in some cop shops you can even play darts. I am NOT making this up. Example: "Man the aaa day I pitiad (pass through) the Spring Valley cop station after work. I was leaving there at midnight, bana. I was so wasted! I told those cops to just let me go home." 

Oh, that's another thing: when we're leaving a place (your house, a wedding, the cop shop bar) we tend to say, "Ok, me let me go…" We're not implying that you're holding us against our will; we're just saying that we'd like to go. (The plural is, of course, "Us let us go.") 

When Kenyans say that you're mad, it's a profound compliment. "Man this guy is mad. You know what he did…" then they'll go on to recount some of your admirable exploits. It's high praise. Smile modestly and accept it. By modest I mean look down, draw a circle in the dust with the toe of your shoe (or just your toe) and then smile, draw your mouth down into a brief frown, and smile again. Alternate quickly a few times. This is known by English-speaking Kikuyus as The Nyira Smile, or The Sneering Smile. Then say "aah, me?" in a high, sing-songy voice. However, only do this if you're female. 

On the other hand, if Kenyans ask, "are you normal? (Sometimes pronounced "nomo"), then they're getting a bit concerned about your state of mental health. Reassure them by buying another round. 

Which brings me to Alcohol. Our national pastime. You know that myth about Eskimos having thousands of word for 'snow?' Well, our beloved drinks are known by a thousand names and phrases too. Kenyans will 'catch pints (or just 'catch'),' 'go for a swallow,' have a 'jweeze,' 'keroro,' 'kanywaji,' 'jawawa…' really, no list can be exhaustive. Be aware, though, that the words you use will immediately tip off your audience about your age. (For the Kenyans reading this, no I was NOT born during the Emergency, you swine.) 

Our other pastime is religion. (What contradiction?) If you're broke on a Sunday – and your hangover is not too bad – stroll over to one of our parks and catch some open-air preaching. Jeevanjee Gardens in town is a prime location. There you will see us in our full multi-lingual, spiritual splendour. There is always, and I mean always, a freelance preacher thundering in English while his loyal and enthusiastic sidekick translates into Kiswahili. 
Sample: 
Preacher: And then Jesus said… 
Sidekick: Alafu Yesu akasema… 
Preacher: Heal! 
Sidekick: Pona! 
Preacher: HEAL! 
Sidekick: PONA! 
It's hypnotic. We suggest you go with a Kenyan who understands both languages because sometimes the sidekick nurses higher ambitions and, instead of translating, tries to sneak in his own parallel sermon. If you're bored in Kenya it's because you're dead. 

As you've probably figured out, we like abbreviating things. (Why would the word 'another' have to be any shorter than it is? Why would the Kenyans reading this find it odd that I keep talking about 'Kiswahili?') This can lead to unnecessary confusion. But by now you should have figured out that when you're catching and someone says, "Si you throw an-aa ra-o?" they of course want you to buy another round of drinks. Don't worry about the 'si;' like so many words in Swa it's impossible to translate. Embrace it, sprinkle it liberally in your speech and move on. There are several such words, which will be tackled in Volume II. 

Coming up in Volume II: why you shouldn't try to understand sheng (and please dear God don't try to speak it), why your strange ideas about forming queues won't work here, and why Nairobians love pornographic chicken. Contains a glossary of untranslatable but essential Swa words (like 'ebu,' 'ati,' 'kumbe' and 'kwani'). 

                                                 Sex Consent Form (For Male Protection)

                                                                                           Form 16xxx

I ---------------- -----------------------------------------, herein referred to as 'SCREWEE' have agreed to have sex, hereafter reffered to as 'THE ACT' with the bearer of this form, herein referred to as 'SCREWER' having accepted the following terms and conditions without any reservations.

1) That I, the screwee is of sound mind and that this decision has been reached without any undue coercion.

2) That I am not drank at the time of signing this form and that the bearer is NOT responsible for ascertaining my level of soberness.

3)

That the screwer is NOT responsible for any emotional, psychological, and imagined physical or moral damages that may emanate from the act.

4) That if the act is carried out at the screwer's house, I will produce minimal sounds to avoid alerting the screwer's neighbours and/or parents UNLESS otherwise agreed.

5) That I, the screwee, will leave the screwer's house at the first light of day if the act takes place at night and that any garments left behind will be discarded without further consultation with me.

6) That I, the screwee, WILL NOT request for Taxi money, airtime, breakfast or any other form of financial favours from the screwer because of this act, and that any such favours - if forthcoming - will be greatly appreciated.

7) That I will be an active participant during the act if I hope to get the satisfaction I crave. Said satisfaction, however, is not guaranteed.

8) That I will NOT hold the screwer responsible for any undue resultant alterations to any of my organs, insofar as they were utilized during the act.

9) That the screwer may choose to expel me from his house for any reason before, during or after the act for any reason, ESPECIALLY lack of proper hygiene.

10) That any missed periods springing off of this act will be my SOLE RESPONSIBILITY and will thus not be used in any way to get favours from the screwer, including - but not restricted to - marriage, child-support and/or rent.

11) And that I, the screwer, take full and total responsibility for lack of satisfaction of either party (screwee and screwer) and will not use any such lack thereof to bad mouth the screwer.

 

.................................................

Sign here.