I am not my tribe

I did not choose where to be born. I am certain I did not, at the intellectual level. On the spiritual level maybe I did. It therefore goes without saying that I did not have anything to do with whatever part of the planet I made my first, and most likely, only appearance on.

I did not choose my parents, they choose to bring me to life and take the necessary care that goes with bringing me up. They too did not have much of a choice on where they were born; neither did their parents…ad infinitum.

So it galls me to no end that I have to continually justify, explain, refute claims coming from left right and centre regarding the actions of my kin, some whom I have never met, and some with whom I am very ashamed to be associated. That applies as well to my countrymen and kinsmen from my home continent, and others whom a biological accident made similar to me. Like when a fellow is having some trouble with those who have XX and I am called to explain their actions. Sorry am blank there people. What she has done might not be what I would do most likely I could do much worse, knowing you but do not take it out on me.

Take for instance the other day. I have been working closely with a band of people who come from the tribe of Franks. If you search closely they were a tribe before they became a nation. Now the Franks and their neighbouring tribes within their continent have a morbid fascination with tribes and anything tribal. Or maybe I have been attracting the weirdo’s. Still, I like them very much, intensely and I fell in love with their language which they were more than willing to teach me. A phenomenon I find admirable although their reason is more political than anything else. The speakers of other languages with whom I share a common border have neither the time nor the patience to teach another. Might it have something to do with keeping the secrets of the tribe?

I started learning another Kenyan tongue when I was much younger I had made quite some progress till my teacher who was the same age as I was then moved to another town. I have never seen her since. For the record I grew up in the era of making calls in the phone booth, when letters would take a total of two weeks not counting the time it took one to make a trip to the post office, so even the postal addresses we exchanged led to nothing.

Now my Frank colleague on meeting me for the first time drew me aside conspiratorially and asked “What tribe are you?” Slightly puzzled, I asked him why. He told me to have no fear it was just a question, although I came to the conclusion that he wanted to come up with a hypothesis regarding the tribes of Kenya. So I indulged him. Immediately his eyes lit up. Oh you come from the same place as…………a famous Kenyan. I said yes, unfortunately I have more than a connection to the aforementioned Kenyan. I tell you it is a very good thing that one does not choose their kin because some people would have no relatives.

Anyway the point of all this rambling is somewhere else that my tribe does not define me neither does my nationality, color belief. In fact even my genes do not, to a certain extent. So when I disagree with you, it usually is because.

1. We share something, you are either my kin; brother, sister, cousin workmate, friend, tribe mate, fellow countrywoman, a visitor in your country etc and it just happens that we are within a kissing distance of each other literally or figuratively.

2. We are definitely seeing the same thing but from different viewpoints. I have moments of daftness and can be as obstinate as the rest but I want to be accorded that, without having my tribe brought into question which would propel our argument southwards and into oblivion.

3. We are able to communicate our disagreement (hurrah.) In my moments of temporary insanity I imagine an argument with one speaker doing hieroglyphics and the other clicking away in those lovely tongues down south. The result might be a little heavy on the liver or whatever part of your anatomy you consider feeble.

This goes too for the najivunia kuwa mkenya that I see on TV lately. I am proud of my country not only for all that is has to offer to tourist (hah!) but from what it offers me. However, the line of thought that goes sijui where has a rainforest with the smallest mammals known by man…and so that is why I am proud to be Kenyan does not add up. It dies of neglect somewhere between the forest and my pride as a Kenyan national.

I am proud of my country the same way I love my mother’s cooking, or her house because a part of my brain becomes fuzzy when I look at her, when I speak to her, when I visit her. I am at peace because I am certain she loves me and I love her back truly madly deeply. The same goes to my daddy and siblings and friends. Because I am not willing to explore that state of statelessness yet I do love my country, warts and all.

I do not have the same memories when it comes to my country and most of the time I feel helpless watching people wrecking the Mau forest and wondering why electricity and water are being rationed. When I watch people working very hard to finish Lake Naivasha by watering flowers which will be thrown as soon as they are presented to someone I know. Not to mention that the foreign exchange earned by these flowers is not enjoyed by those who kill themselves (literally) to produce the flowers.

There is one thing I am sure of though, there are several countrymen and women who periodically and continuously make my heart swell with pride. Even in the darkest of time when I think about them I feel hopeful and very proud to be Kenyan.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

My favorite young man was born on this day six years ago.
I cannot recall how it felt like to be six but I think it must have been fun from what I see.
Happy Birthday son and may you grow to be wise and loving.

Anger Management

Lately, I have discovered that parenting is an exercise in constant anger management. The little ones are not as ire inspiring after all the mistakes they make can be attributed to inexperience in the business of living. It is the older ones who relate to them especially authority figures like teachers doctors and others who are past the age of childhood legally that drive me round the bend.

Incident One
The other day I had to go to the bathroom in church and the young man insisted on using it at the same time with me. He has not understood, yet that he should use the boys’ bathroom. I have tried nudging him gently tho’ I do not want to push him to it. When he is ready he will walk into them voluntarily.

We were through with our business when the cleaning lady came to do her stuff; add rolls of tissue, clean up any spills. I was washing my hands and so was the young man at the next wash basin. The stupid woman proceeded to whisper to my son conspiratorially that she would “cut” him so that he can continue using the girls’ bathroom that the room was not for boys. I swear I wanted to kill that woman. How does a right thinking adult tell a 5 year old boy such things? He was very upset and I had to reassure him that the woman was going straight to hell for her utterances especially since she made them within God’s compound.

Incident Two
He was less than a year old when I took him to the doctor’s after a sleepless night, fever crying, the works. After a few tests the doc proceeded to give me six different syrups to “cover” him just in case he had anything. The bunch consisted of anti malarial, antibacterial painkiller etc. I did not want to upset the doctor as I did not know if I might have to call upon her someday in the middle of the night to practice her profession, but I never went back to that clinic.

Incident Three
The boy came from school with an egg sized bump on the head. No one could tell me how he got it even the classmates. Note that the class has less than 20 pupils, the teachers claim to be in class all the time…I know that is not true but at least someone could have seen what happened, no? I did not want to blame anyone just an explanation so the boisterous person can be told to not endanger himself and others. There were three more bumps on the head in a short while and I got a little worried because it is not good to keep hitting one’s head on things. Thankfully circumstances changed and I gladly moved schools. There has been no bump on the head yet…touch wood but plenty of scrapes on limbs which to me are less dangerous. I have plenty of scars myself. .:D

Speaking of safety in schools, I read the sad story of a young girl who died in school sometime last year with a lot of concern. We do not know what really happened as fellow students say one thing and the school administration says another, the whole thing does not add up . To err is human and teachers are human too. But…teachers are entrusted to look after students in their care and should at least give an explanation, investigate and tell the truth. I do not understand how a child can be sick in boarding school and the administration does not know considering her dorm mates were aware she was.

I look back at my school days and there are a few things that make sense in hindsight. Our teachers were all over our business and you could not even sneeze in peace. We positively hated it since we were up to no good as youngsters at that age usually are. But if you were sick, there was a procedure to be followed and no one was ever let to sleep in the dorm for any reason if you were supposed to be somewhere else. Our prefects were a big pain in the butt as they co-operated with teachers to make our stay in school as painful as possible but it worked. The pain was worth it. We might have been slightly unhappy but we were always safe and someone knew where you were at any given time. Our school had a large population so I must admit our teachers did a very good job.
The quality of education we received under this system is another matter altogether I hope when I am much older and fonder I will look at it more positively.

Please do not touch me

Exceptions
• You raised me
• I babysat you or you me.
• We are related blood or otherwise
• You have spent more than two weeks uninterrupted in my company and liked it
• You know my middle name and use it quite often
• I have explicitly invited you to
• ..and even then keep it below the elbow unless otherwise stated.

Thank you

2009

Happy New Year. I know it is not in good taste(whatever that means) to amkua –greet – people like this in the third month of the supposed new year but what is a girl to do if she started her new year then? I mean all this is relative the Moslems, Hindus and Ethiopia just across the border are in some century where the rest of the world isn’t but that does not stop them from expressing it.
My Kenyan brethren remember how 2008 started or rather how 2007 ended and we did not say happy New Year properly until April or thereabouts.

This year has been a little kinder to me. I started it by doing exams in the first week of January. Some people are terribly cruel. How do you make an exam timetable like that? How am I supposed to ‘eat’ Christmas with the thought of having exams peeping at me round the corner? I barely enjoyed myself plus…I was moving houses so let’s leave it there. Stressful. I did not know I have so much stuff in fact was tempted to give some away at the though of having to lift one more item into the moving truck. Yes I had lots of help from the male folk in my household but aie…

I was in the supermarket the other day when there was a power outage. Just before the generators kicked in somebody muttered in the darkness “Thank God we are not in Nakumatt”.

I discovered a new interesting voice out here. She makes my day!

Random Monday

• It has been said often that Kenyans, especially those that live in the urban centers can be extremely rude. When they are not shoving you with their elbows on the sidewalk they are cutting in front of you in traffic, spitting all over the place, throwing rubbish out of car windows and into rivers. The list is long and growing. I almost fell into a puddle when the bus conductor told me thank you as I got off at my destination today. Such was my confusion. But I was smiling at the change. Yes we could...should...can?

• I sat for CATs over the weekend. The timing was perfect KCSE has started; KCPE has just gotten finished so I was not so lonely in my predicament. I do not like exams, tests, whatever fancy names they are given. Especially when you are given questions which are grammatically incorrect and have spelling mistakes. I shall not be mention the institution of higher learning concerned but surely we can...do better than this no?
• Another year comes to an end. I had a look at my resolutions and I think am not doing too badly.
Have a lovely week.

here and there

I know.

Been away too long. I miss this house and my 1.5 regular readers. Life has been happening.

Still kicking myself on the backside for having gone back to school at the ripe old age of -fill in the blanks-. I love studying, but I detest conventional exams where you are supposed to have facts at your fingertips. I still remember things from the periodic table but am still figuring out how it fits in the grand scheme of things like my life and all.

When a lecturer does not show up I want to throw a party in celebration. Hanging my head in shame now. I had forgotten that students in this part of the world generally read when the exam timetable is put on the notice board. Last week could not find a place to sit in the library. There were humans all over the place, on desks where they could, on book trolleys on the floor aie... So I spent 1 hour reading at the shelves and got tired. Am certain within two weeks we the regular bookworms will have the library to ourselves again.

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

The other day I was on my way to work I saw a matatu with the inscription “14 donks.” I could not resist a chuckle. The michuki rules require that passenger vehicles indicate the number of passengers that the vehicle is supposed to transport.

So far I have seen

14 chicas

14 blacks

14 variation in spelling for passengers pasengas passnges etc etc

Mtu 14

Wathii 14

14 donks took the cake! The passengers did not look like they knew that they would be donks for the duration of the ride.

Have a lovely weekend

A year older

Today.

5

May those who love you, love you.
And those who don't love you,
May God turn their hearts;
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So you will know them by their limping.



Happy Birthday to you.