KAZI NI KAZI

Kazi ni kazi...any work is meaningful

A fortnight ago, I was lucky enough to hop onto a trip to the classy Bogoria spa resort with member’s of my college’s German Club. To say it was massive fun would be an understatement. But the journey back was riddled with a major problem as our bus broke down with a mechanical problem. To worsen the situation, this was in the intensely hot area of Marigat. Slight consolation came about us being close to a group of women who sell honey and watermelons along the road. Alighting down the bus, I thought of the traders as being lucky for getting a few customers for in my naïve mind, no one bothers to make such purchases. Munching away and enjoying the juicy melons, I asked one of them if they hardly make money in such a ‘harsh’ area. She said I keep my eyes open. Well, to cut the long story short, in a span of around two hours, a substantial amount of vehicles had come to a halt and the women had sold enough commodities to make the enterprise worthwhile, amidst the scorching sun.

Think outside the box, or just have no box!

As we left for Nairobi, I had several flashbacks of situations I've come across where seemingly unfeasible situations have individuals who cash on them and earn good money. There was a time I was walking towards Eastleigh and just below the Pangani Girls’ iconic flyover came across some rugged looking fellas counting wads of money in big denomination notes. I was curious suspecting they were goons but realized they are cart pushers whom you’d barely look at twice for their job seems ‘dirty’ and meant for the hopeless in society. As I walked on to buy some of the jerseys I sell, I resolved to always have an open mind when it comes to money making.

I think society and the formal education system has brain-washed us into believing the notion of ‘white collar’ jobs being the ultimate one can get in terms of a career. It reminds me of a report sometime back in the dailies on Nairobi’s deceptive divide and the irony therein in terms of wealth. You see, once someone crosses Tom Mboya Street towards the government buildings and iconic places, the glam seems evident yet the most money is in the opposite direction! The West seems better than the East, literally! But maybe it is time your bubble got burst. From simple calculation, in River Road, a tyre dealer may earn up to 30 times more compared to someone on an 8-5 job in a posh office somewhere towards the ‘leafy suburbs’. In Eastleigh, for example, millions of shillings (Not Zimbabwean of course) exchanges hands daily making it the most traded market in probably the whole region of East and Central Africa.

Part of palace owned by Mr. Waititu in Nyandarua

And this trend seems to be on the rise with more people opting for ‘biasahara’ than ‘kuandikwa’. There was this Professor in Holland who opted to become a plumber after a simple repair in his drainage system made him curious to research and discover that the ‘dirty’ plumber guy earned way much more than he did! At home, we have Mr. George Waititu who had a glamorous job as a Managing Director for Synovate which paid well and made him a public figure, releasing opinion poll results on national matters but who astonished many with the countryside lodge he developed back in his rural area, and which has a potential to make him among Kenya’s elite hoteliers. At only 39 years old, he has a facility that is both grand and majestic but he chose a location that may not seem viable which clearly shows a high risk involvement; something crucial if you are to delve into business!

Ethical practices and education are also necessary!

I bet what set all these entrepreneurs apart was a passion, a desire for excellence in whatever they did and that drive for seeking income in an alternative way. Kenya’s middle class is slowly becoming the most important segment of the population. This is especially in terms of productivity and the numbers of people who are crossing the gap to be among this class is on the rise daily. As a nation, we lag behind with uniformity of incomes having among the worst of parity between the high income earners and those who get just a paltry sum of what they deserve. We cannot afford to whine any longer. Expecting the government to always sort us is ridiculous I think. It has its part to play but wouldn't it be easier if you and me considered ourselves the government and worked hard in whatever capacity to build our land?

As always dear reader, I remain Njabia the 3^rd.  Have an enterprising time, won’t you? And if you would like a business opportunity, do give me a call and we could be partners for an idea I have. 0726-146-101 is the number. Holla!

Beautiful Republic

At 'Kona Baridi' i.e Cold Corner, near Ngong

I am a Travel and Tourism student. I love my course because it adequately covers what I am almost most passionate about. God’s grace enabled me join the best institute that offers Hospitality and Tourism learning in Africa. That not only means I occasionally interact with foreign students (that sounds discriminatory), but also offers a chance to travel far and wide mostly for research, familiarization and fun! This is a post about a recent trip to the Kenyan Rift Valley, a natural phenomenon of exquisite beauty and a geological masterpiece produced by millions of years of intense volcanic, tectonic and faulting processes. This we capped by paying a 3 day visit to the world renowned Maasai Mara Game reserve; host to the 7^th natural wonder in the world, the annual cycle of wildebeest’s migration to and from Tanzania’s Serengeti National Park.

Menu: Kenya...spoilt for choice

With colleagues after going through the gorge

Day 1 saw us travel to The Bogoria Spa Resort. Enroute we visited the flamingos’ paradise that is Lake Nakuru and got an aerial view of the Rift Valley near Kijabe. An elegant establishment owned by Kenya’s second president and less than quarter of an hour’s drive to the famous Lake it’s named after. It also prides itself for having the only natural spa in the entire world that constantly bubbles out water at 37°C, the human body temperature and as such, a pool has been built that offers not only the warm water but also healing properties for the skin. That was fun, trust me; swimming at 0200HRS in that water is unrivalled. Next day, we got the chance to visit the nearby Lake Baringo with its 7 islands including one which is dwelt by one man, his 5 wives and 27 children! Lake Bogoria is marvellous with its characteristic long and slender outline but more so the thousands of flamingos on its shores and geysers that spring over 20 metres high. Boiling eggs in its hot springs was also massively fun, and so was the partaking of themJ

Hell's gate and the spa's swimming pool

After two nights, we departed for the other lake town of Naivasha passing the Equator as we travelled South not to forget the spectacular Lake Elementaita just past Kenya’s most famous ‘nyamchom’ (grilled meat) location, Kikopey. The night was an eventful one and energy levels high as we planned an early hike in the absolutely fascinating Hell’s Gate National Park. This was to be followed by the two hundred kms journey to the Mara. For any man that hopes to propose marriage to a lucky damsel soon, I would suggest you do it at the gorge in the H.G.N.P…it began as a crack. This then developed and the erosion processes over millions of years has made the gorge a site to behold. We had a local Maasai guide and the hike through various spots took our breath away; from visible volcanic plugs, to rocks bearing hot water and steep descents and ascents coupled with the eerie feeling of being totally surrounded by wild animals is unrivalled. Let us just say it’s a smaller version of the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Lakes Baringo, Bogoria, Nakuru and Magadi

Heading to Mara along the very straight Maii Mahiu-Narok Road, you’d be mistaken to think a ruler was used all through. We passed in between two volcanic mountains. Suswa on the left is extinct but the more spectacular Longonot is dormant; meaning it may just blow up anytime with no prior warning! The drive was long but we got to relax for two nights at Sarova Mara, a marvellous hotel built right inside the game reserve.

Locomotion; our tour bus in various locations

The drives in Mara are to die for and unique. Early morning we went to witness the unique Balloon Safaris. Basically, you pay 420 US$ (35,000 KSH) for an unforgettable experience composed of an hour in the air watching either animals, the African sun rise from far in the horizon or taking awesome aerial pictures. I give up. My words cannot describe just how amazing it is. It has to be done at dawn because then the sun has yet to make the air hot which would prevent the hot air rising up. The Mara River swarms with crocodiles and hippos and is a site to behold as thousands of animals cross for greener pastures, literally. After visiting more hotels and sites, our cameras were now full of pictures holding immense memories and it was time to drive back home.

One of the seven wonders of the World

Dear reader, Kenia ist schön  (Kenya is beautiful, German). Plan and get away from the city sometime. Explore the nation that is surely a Beautiful Republic. I remain, Njabia the 3^rd.

MOBBED TO DEATH

Where is that Rascal?

Amazing reader, how art thou? Hoping all is well in your world. If you are familiar enough with Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, then you may be in the know of the latest and probably best statue to commemorate a past hero of this great nation; yeah the almost perfect remake of Tom Mboya just at the center of the city, adorned in full African regalia with flamingos complimenting the landmark, just like in his native Rusinga island home. A tranquil place with designated seats for use by the public that for a few minutes turned into a scene of chaos and almost murder. This was sometime back as I waited for an acquaintance along Nairobi's Moi Avenue.

I wonder if he survived...

Prior to that incident I am about to narrate, the whole country was shocked and left in a daze after an innocent pastor in the Coastal town of Mombasa, together with a colleague had been brutally murdered in public after being confused for criminals. All that happened in daylight as a mob baying for their blood had broken the 6th Commandment and taken away their lives in cold blood. I remember feeling pity on the man of the cloth’s wife as she was too shell-shocked to accept what had befallen the father of her children and a shepherd of the human flock who worshiped at the Mombasa Melchidizek church of Buxton.

Back at the Nairobi incident, a similar occurrence almost unfolded before my eyes. This petty thief and a dumb one I have to say; had the nerves or rather stupidity to try and snatch a woman’s handbag at the  bus stop adjacent to the 3 star Hotel, The Ambassadeur. A place ever teeming with people, both departing and boarding buses for certain Nairobi destinations and an awful lot of unoccupied mortals; either idle or awaiting someone. A single blood-cuddling shout of alarm from the victim-to-be was enough to spring hordes of men into action, chasing the man as he crossed the few roads and into the reception of the Hilton Hotel for deliverance as he knew, just like you may know, the proverbial 40 days for a thief had come to a close.

The loss of a loved one pains to the core

The crowd baying for his blood were able to inflict enough beating to just about leave his life hanging by a thread and a few more minutes would have effectively reduced the world’s population by one was it not for the arrival of the police. He was whisked away but how lucky because hundreds more have lost their lives in similar circumstances.

As a kid, one of the most eerie moments were coming across a scene with a burnt tire; all the way that just wires showed and some bones of a thief burnt to death, with the aid of the said tire and petrol. Personally I know of two individuals, one killed by an angry mob after being cornered after some stealing exploits and another shot to death by police who opted not to capture and try him in court. These were both young men barely out of their teens and by virtue of personally knowing them, I stand on the side opposing 'mob justice'. I put it in quotes as that is no justice at all.

Jesus: He who is without sin, throw the first stone. (All flee)

Probably, you've seen how mob justice is meted and you may be on either side of the divide. Having property that you've worked hard for stolen or harm inflicted on you is a great boost to participate in mob justice but please, I beseech, that person crying out for mercy could be your relative, close friend or future spouse…before throwing that stone and splattering blood and brains all over, take a thought and allow compassion for fellow man to override the anger and rage of the moment. There are laws of the land, made to deal with such, and a God above, who declares vengeance to be His.

Thank you for your few minutes, wonderful reader. Till next time, I remain Njabia the 3^rd.

DOWNING THE TOOLS

From teachers, doctors, students to journalists

I remember like yesterday though it happened 11 years ago. While still proceeding with my elementary education at Dandora Primary school, in the heart of Nairobi’s Eastlands, or Eastlando if you may, noise just erupted from outside as classes went on. I was in class eagerly awaiting the lunch break to commence. Hungry and bored, it was around noon when all hell seemed to break loose. I’m not trying to be dramatic but you can imagine the horrifying feeling a 12 year gets on seeing the teachers and staff run around in confusion and the rooftop undergoing massive pelting from stones of all sizes.

MAYHEM! Destruction is normally a result

It was a fateful Monday that will forever remain etched in my mind. Events leading to the mini Armageddon were that a young pupil from James Gichuru Primary School, also in Dandora had passed away after being hit by a matatu (Public Service Vehicle) while crossing the road, just a few metres from the school. His fellow schoolmates in anger had burnt the vehicle down to a shell and resolved to get all pupils from the estate into protest against reckless driving. And boy did they succeed.

Money is almost always a matter of contention

This course of action bore fruit but at a cost. The simple chant of ‘No bumps, no school!’ not only resulted in the creation of road bumps along the estate’s roads, but it also taught me the power of action in numbers. Nevertheless, it was a day of unprecedented chaos with looting and confusion marring the image of Dandora. After really the melee had subsided, did I come to terms with what it really meant to participate in a strike.

All the Kenyan students want is to learn

For some strange reason, I tend to believe that the culture of taking industrial action by striking is deeply rooted in the Kenyan psyche and the aforementioned incident is just to show that it’s not only the doctors and as the current situation, teachers who duly opt to do so in order to be heard. We also have university students who amidst chants of ‘Comrade Power!’ make their voice heard and stomachs filled in such strikes. Woe unto you if you own a restaurant on their path. We even had their lecturers copy-pasting this style of airing their grievances sometime back and as I type are also starting on another strike. The Vice president then had to intervene when prison warders threatened to take the same course of action and that was not long before many innocent lives were lost due to doctors opting to use a strike to twist the government into hearing their pleas. As a matter of fact, it’s just a few days since Kenyatta National Hospital, the biggest hospital in this part of the world duly fired 400 intern doctors who had also borrowed a leaf from their seniors and downed their tools. And don’t get me started on the section of women who wanted to deny their men conjugal rights in protest…

Normally, a 'ring leader' will gather the masses

As a college student, I have at times felt that only a strike would make the administration of my institution come into terms with some of the student needs. Yet I know deep down that a better way exists. I think when the gap is too large or the concerns too grave, then two parties might find great loss once a strike is called. The Government promising 300% increase of salary, albeit 15 years ago to teachers has come to hunt it now. The issue must be addressed because time wasted can never be recovered. The ball is in the teacher’s union and state representatives to chart a way forward.

The First family; Probably the children are in the best private schools

 I do not support the teacher’s strike but maybe, just like that sunny day in Dandora, back in 2001, a lasting solution will be found. Till then, I remain, Njabia the 3^rd.

LOYALTY

Number 1 fan my foot

Robin van Persie. A lot has been said about him already but this was a man who made me believe so much…that the world still has some good people, who despite the riches and fame that come with being a modern top flight footballer in a major league, maintained humility. As an Arsenal fan, I went through the expected cycle after his departure to Manchester United. It began with sheer shock that gradually turned into anger, resentment and finally into acceptance that the inevitable had happened. Arsenal’s captain, talisman and best player had signed up for our most bitter rivals in the name of his own words; a ‘lack of ambition’.

Arsenal's 'captain curse'

Arsenal made you.

Robin had arrived in England in 2004 from his former club Feyenoord amidst allegations of being an egocentric 21 year old who was selfish in play and plain hard-headed. Even his school records support this as he was constantly on the wrong side of the rules. Disagreements with his manager made him get minimum time on the pitch and at the end of the season, had him placed in the market for 5 million Sterling pounds. Arsenal captured him for half the priceJ! Nevertheless, his time of arrival in the North London club coincided with an era of unprecedented success; the era of the 'Invincibles'. This confined him to the bench for long periods of time as the likes of Henry and Bergkamp ran the show.

Who needs Robin when we have Podolskiiiii?!

Even when he began playing on a regular basis, you could tell he was immensely gifted but would go on to suffer from various injuries season after season. This cycle repeated itself and only in the 2011-12 season did he have a solid and injury-free season under his belt. Not only was he suffering on the physical front but Arsenal stood by him when rape allegations were levelled towards him in June, 2005. I do not know whether he had cheated on his Moroccan wife, Bouchra though he apologized in public for indecent behaviour towards a former Miss Holand-Nigeria. The rest as they say is history. I admired this man but I know he is no saint having seen him lose his temper on the pitch times a plenty.

Maybe Arsenal felt too ol' school than ol' Traff?

Among my DVD collections, one I intend to throw away, ‘RvP’s 100 goals’, the man speaks so loyally of the club that made him a household name and a world-class striker. He recalls the goal against Manchester United when Arsenal won the F.A cup back in 2005 in glee. Then he goes ahead claiming a 'boy in his tummy' always shouted for Man-U upon signing a deal worth millions with them. Strange you have to agree. He knows pretty well than a mere fan like me that you do not join a most fierce rival unless you are plain greedy or dumb. Well, I believe he is smart and left for the riches because he knows, just like anyone who knows football well that had he stayed behind, Arsenal has a better squad than United.

Au Revoir!

Sometimes I think that as much as money is good and we all should have ambition, we should not get over ourselves and even hurt people due to what even the Bible calls selfish ambition (Philippians 2:3). I do not hate RvP, neither will I deny that he is immensely gifted and most importantly will I really be engrossed with him anymore. So, BYE!!! And I hope you continue smiling every time United fans hail you a legend after years of calling you ‘rapist’.

DEATH OF 'ART ON A MAT'

Art on a mat...

Brain-Child, Ferrari, Kichimbi, Liquid, Ruffcuts, S.W.A.T, Lugz…the names were catchy and diverse just as their various colours, graffiti and shapes but all of them rocked. For those of you wondering what I am talking about, it’s the trendy matatus that had become synonymous with most of the urban areas in Kenya; Nairobi especially leading the pack.  They were not only a mode of transport but also offered commuters a chance to experience a wild and adrenaline-filled ride whether to or from town.

Diversity is beauty!

As a Nairobian myself, I can only detail the mathreez that used to ply our city routes with both nostalgia and immortal memories. The battle between mathreez on each route was always amazing with the result being ever increasing creativity with the graffiti and accessories, louder music, wider L.C.D screens and faster speed on our roads. I recall in the early 2000’s when I first took a ride on one of the trending ridez that plied the Outering route and immediately got hooked to the thrill. ‘Liquid’ was its name, metallic blue the colour and savouring the moment I did!

As time wore on, I became aware that some routes seemed to have the very best rides with Buruburu, Eastleigh and Outering leading the pack by a mile. Getting to high school and having to commute daily gave me the chance to sample the best that Nairobi’s flashest had to offer. As I became more enlightened, I realized that not only did the flashy matatus offer unbridled ecstasy by riding in one but that many people relied on them for their daily livelihoods.

Best of them all...BRAINCHILD

What many never knew was that apart from the drivers and kanges (Turn-boys), the matatus also allowed gifted people with an artistic inclination to earn a living as they painted the mathrees in all sorts of colours, designs, graffiti and images that would especially concur with the hip-hop culture of most young people. Only when I got into college and start studying tourism did I appreciate the fact that also they were a part of Kenya’s tourism attractions! You see dear reader, nowhere else in the world has such unique public transportation vehicles. When other cities have walls subjected to paint, ours are mobile on wheels.

I may seem to have nothing but delight in these ‘tyrants’ of the road but there was also a downside to them. The madness on the roads was a constant cause of accidents, manhandling of passengers and other ills including disruption of learning to schools along the roads because of the extremely loud music at times. And I guess we began seeing the death of the urban mathree culture once the transport reforms were put in place in 2004.

Enacting laws that brought sanity to the roads system was a great thing but banning of especially graffiti was in my opinion not worthwhile. We may never know how many people and creative minds were deemed jobless and maybe how many among them turned to crime and other vices. Probably, the government will never know the significance that the matatus had to the urban youth nor to the tourism industry.

Chillin with Ronga's former finest...Tattoo

So as we reminisce the good old days,Rest in peace, Art on a Mat…till next time wonderful reader, I remain Njabia the 3^rd.

STREET LIFE

Street life

Walking briskly towards the place I normally board a matatu (public transport means) to take me to school from Nairobi City, I felt a hand tag on my shoulder. In a split second as I turned to meet the owner of the hand, assuming it was a long lost friend or a stranger alerting me on something…I came face to face with a huge dirty hand holding human excrement!!!

Various times I had encountered people who had passed through such an ordeal. What happens is that the street urchin will ask for some money in which (s) he will smear you with the body waste if you do not heed to their demands. I froze. But only for a short while as my mind raced between asking for the spirit of Usain Bolt to come over me and make a dash from the scene, or turning violent and hitting the dude. In the end I faced him and asked why he needed the 20 shillings he was asking for.

Anyway, we reached a mutual agreement but I was not overly angry, albeit shaken. As I proceeded on, I had deep thoughts about people living on the street. A repeat of the same came flooding into my mind today as I saw some young children snuggling on cartons along a side walk as the cold July chill bit hard. These two children who looked barely in their early teens made me take a hard long look at the comforts we take for granted many a times. As I did so, three individuals I know surfaced in my thoughts.

Sam* used to be the most likable kid you’d ever come across as we were young growing up in Dandora. He never seemed to trouble anyone or have a problem with the rest of us. Only difference was that he was a street child. Later on did I learn that they used to be wealthy until his mum passed on and he refused to live with a step mother for reasons best known to him. When we were young, we’d play with him and he was generous in giving my childhood buddies ‘chombo’ (nice stuff that he would get at the dumping site in Dando). It was not until I enquired of his whereabouts that I was saddened to hear that he still loiters around yet he is a man now, a victim of circumstances.

Kevin* was huge. Even as a young lad, you’d see he had the build of a heavy weight. No one really knew where he’d come from, but most people were kind to him for he had no home. I remember vividly my mum giving him soap to shower and some food to eat. He was introverted but kind to strangers. I recall one day he came back badly wounded from a gang fight and the people around raised some cash for his treatment. It was then he confessed to having no family. He still is on the streets, probably he has no better choice.


Brian* was both cheeky and funny. He had this ‘Martin Lawrence’ look. I remember as kids, we’d just look at him and laugh as if being tickled. And he was full of zest and energy. His annoyance was he was very loud and seemed to care for none other but himself. Like Sam, he was said to come from a wealthy home. He simply loved the streets for the sheer pleasure of the madness associated with it. Sometimes, his relatives would get him but he was always back with more vigour. It was a vicious cycle really. I do not know his whereabouts; the street simply gave him an unbridled thrill.

Huyo jamaa sio mwizi

Next time my dear reader that you encounter an unpleasant interaction with especially street kids, take a moment to reflect on their human side and instead of cursing and sneering, it might just be more worthwhile to reflect that it could have been you. I remain Njabia the 3^rd, till next time, CIAO!

(* Not their real names)

OF NYERI MEN, I INCLUDED

''...ITS ME AGAINST THE MAN...''

Before beginning writing this post, I had a meeting with myself. You see, as a man from Nyeri, though with Kiambu paternity, so much ridicule I risk facing by declaring I am a ‘Nyerian’ too. If you still do not know why, I suggest you acquaint yourself better with Kenyan news for the past few months.

You see, this particular region from whence our country’s president hails from has faced a substantial number of domestic violence cases that are unique; the beatings and abuse is meted on the men. Now, stereotyping is practised the whole world over and the common one is Nyeri women are tough while their male counterparts are timid. And that is indeed false.

I remember being told during my initiation that real men never hit a woman. Upon enquiry, I was told that only cowards do so. I guess a man should take such good care of his lady, such that no chance for a fight would come up. And thinking about it more, it does make a huge amount of sense though it may not do so to many men especially those from our lovely continent; Africa.

It is a well known fact that traditionally, not just in Africa but even in ancient civilizations, the man had some specific and exclusive roles to carry out. As a Christian, my supreme authority is the Bible and it mirrors really well in Ephesians 5:25 ‘…Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…’ Personally, I take the word ‘Love’ as more of a verb and less of a noun! It’s about action and Love manifests itself more with what we do than what we say. Words are important too!

I have a hypothesis that might not be completely factual but which holds much water. Not so long ago, boys were cherished by communities more. They got the best education and jobs and later in their homes, had the liberty to mistreat the women. This because livelihoods depended on them.  Fast forward and after the empowerment of the ‘girl child’, we have homes that truly lack a leader.

This is a socio-religious problem that needs addressing soon. The previous verse in the above quoted scripture declares ‘…Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything…’. Before the ladies stone me, this is what I honestly believe; Men should take responsibility, take care of their homes by especially loving their wives to the point they’d be willing to die for them. As of women, even if you earn ten times more than your man, give him the respect he deserves just as God would like you to.

To cut the long story short, and I am serious about this, I would not harshly condemn a scorned woman if she rained blows on  her man if he’s  drunk and there is no food on the table and school fees for the children! Maybe even hand her a rungu, but definitely not a machete!!!

Lovely weekend to you amazing reader. I remain, Njabia the 3^rd.

G.H.E.T.T.O

These streets remind me of quick sand,

When you are on it, you keep going down…

And there’s no one to hold on to

And there’s no one to pull you out…

So you keep on falling, no one can hear you callin

So you end up self-destructing…

Getting Higher Education To Teach Others

The above six lines of Akon’s famous song ‘Ghetto’ literally sum up what I wanna write about. Since I first heard the song eight years ago, the lines remain true and etched onto my mind and engraved onto my heart. They put into perspective all my thoughts concerning where I grew up in.

You see, I am from the ghetto. Born and raised up in Dandora or Dee or Dandoch or Dandarra; whichever way you christen it, that was my home, still is and will ever be close to my heart. Initially meant to be an estate for middle-income earners with decent concrete houses and amenities that would offer comfort to the residents…Dee turned out into another ‘ghetto in Eastlando’ with a surplus population and alterations to the initial development plans.

But if I had a chance to have been born elsewhere, I would frankly and adamantly refuse for till now, I believe that growing up in such a place as Dee is a ‘blessing in disguise’ and the sad bit is that it can equally be destructive, just as Akon’s last line portrays.

In equal measure, I have seen people from the hood grasp the opportunities hat come across their way and live fulfilling lives. Sad bit is most of the young people will develop a rebellious, victim or content attitude with life in the ghetto. They are not to sorely blame.

I think society needs to refrain from making it seem like a person’s worth is related to what economic bracket they lie within. All of us are equal and the sooner we acknowledge that, the easier it will be to do away with snobbery, rebelliousness, inferiority and superiority complex all exhibited by especially young people on whichever side of the economic divide.

Till next time, I will sing along with Shaggy and Joe in their 2002 hit song…’Ghetto Child’. And maybe whistle along to ''Dandora L.O.V.E, ndani ya Hip-hop city...''. because that is what I am; just a  ghetto child who sees beyond the heap of trash in Dee.

Be blessed you wonderful reader. I remain Njabia the 3rd

FOUR TEAMS...ONE FAN (Part 2)

ARSENAL...KENYA...GERMANY...REAL MADRID

21st May, 2005. The day brought with it two immortal memories, the wedding of my friends Caro and Joshu and the F.A Final pitying Manchester United and Arsenal. The game was broadcast live on K.B.C and we were crowded with friends watching the exciting game that ended goalless, even after extra time. The penalty shoot-out was nerve wrecking. Five men from either side were to decide which team I would be a supporter of; though I already had a soft spot for the team in red and white.

All but one scored, a Man-U player called Paul Scholes a.k.a ‘Ginger Prince’ due to his gold hair. He had his kick punched away by the ‘Crazy German’ as he used to be called in Jens Lehmann, Arsenal’s goalkeeper. I was in love and now had the privilege of identifying myself as an Arsenal fan. The bond remains, just grows with each passing game. Arsenal till I die. Period.

But there are other three teams I love you know?

113 in the current FIFA World rankings, mostly terrible but with genuine talent here and there and the occasional win, like the 4-0 over Comoros or the famous 9-0 win over Djibouti that happened over ten years ago! I love the Harambee Star’s, Kenya’s national team due to the fact I am Kenyan and still hope we make it to the World Cup 2014 in Brazil and hopefully win in the final against the hosts. Amen.

La Liga, the Spanish league had me a Barcelona fan since ’02 for the wrong reason until last year when I realized their pretty football, hauls of trophies and rich tradition loses its worth due to the team’s unethical practices such as player diving, player tapping and when they finally lured Super Cesc, Arsenal’s captain and cheated their way to the Champions league did I know I have to jump ship. Still in the honeymoon stage with Real Madrid but liking every single bit and memorable gamesJ

Anytime I play FIFA on play station, I choose Germany for an international game. Reason? I honestly think they are the best in World football but that’s not why I like them. Being with Germans as friends and colleagues was a factor and I took time during the last World Cup in South Africa to finally choose a team to support on the global stage…well, till Kenya wins the World Cup anyway! And it had to be Germany, brilliant skills, awesome talent and they play a style I like…technischen Fußball !

Thanks for reading you wonderful people. I remain, Njabia the 3^rd.