Posts Tagged Mike Mbuvi

A baptism of fire for Peter Kenneth

Politics is the art of choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable.
~ John Kenneth Galbraith
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Peter Kenneth, the guy Miguna Miguna says he’d put in charge of beauty contests in the county, is a funny guy; either that or very naive, or both. He’s written a formal letter complaining that Nairobi Governor nominations aren’t free and fair, hahaha….

So this man gets into a contest for arguably the most lucrative job in Kenya (besides the presidency) with two of the most battle hardened, crude, unscrupulous, and recalcitrant Jubilee mandarins in Nairobi and then he expects it will be a clean fight? What is this guy smoking? He thought nominations in Nairobi would be a smooth affair like chomping on an aromatic Habanos Cohiba cigar while lounging on the terrace of his mansion in Runda as a flute of Chateau Margaux wine percolates on his quartz topped table? What a joke.

This is Kenya, and Nairobi is the capital city that’s inhabited by the toughest of the lot: the status quo operatives, the pharmacists without chemists, and the wheeler dealer tenderpreneurs that supply air to the City Council, they run this joint. There’s no Madam Head of Civil Service to hold anyone’s hand here, bedroom bully credentials won’t count, you’re on your own. This is a fight to the death and rules don’t apply. This is Sonko and Doctor Bishop territory, straight out of MKU and St. Paul’s Universities with two year degrees without ever attending class; this is jailbird space and your opponents have already earned their stripes, with Mike having already done time at (and escaped from) Shimo La Tewa, and Doctor Bishop cooling her heels at Parklands Police Station cells as we speak. This is blue-collar roll up your sleeves and pop your collar work, it requires people that have lived by their wit and balls before and amassed wealth by taking food out of the mouths of babies by either the sword or the word; white collar stroke of the pen chicanery like the sort that brought Kenya Reinsurance to its knees won’t work here.

You’re in the throes of the very contest that made Baba Yao throw his hands up in exasperation and decide he’s better off retreating to face Don Kabogo in Kiambu. You’ve been thrown into the pits of the coliseum my friend, and there’s no escape, you’ll just have to grapple with these baby powder producing and “the seed” eating street fighters.

Like Johnny Vigeti of Kalamashaka rhymed in Punchline Kibao
“Zinedine Zidane, starting line up ya Real Madrid na hiyo inamaanisha huku hutoboi kudai number
Plus striker wao ashachoka, ako hoi anadai sub- ha!
Ni mambo na ku-mark territory, kwa hivyo ma-doggy za mitaa zingine hazikojoi mitaani hapa
Kuifanya iwe ngumu kwa huyu jamaa wa yoh-yoh ku-buy manga”

Besides, I’d have thought having been in Starch and all that, PK must have heard of the George Bernard Shaw quote

“I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.”

Welcome to Nairobbery Muthungu wa Gatanga, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere

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We have nothing to say, but we say it because: Popularity is a social disease.

Before you go knocking Social Media just remember; without it, you would have absolutely no way of knowing that we all need to use the bathroom regularly, or what Sonko’s latest publicity seeking inane episode of buffoonery is….

If you’ve been on facebook, twitter, tumblr, hi5, Tagged, Google+, etc, you’d know that it seems this generation of people who spend more time staring at their mobile devices than at real peoples’ faces, that condones clowns like Sonko –and even elects them to public office–, are all about follows, likes, +1s, diggs, up-votes, number of comments, retweets, etc without a care as to the relevance, importance or even need for or vacuousness of what they put out to the whole world on social media and blogs (the irony that I’m writing this on a blog is not lost on me).

I am harldy innocent in these respect since I will not pretend I don’t get smug satisfaction when the views on my blog are in thousands, or a facebook thread stretches into dozens of comments and likes. But as a general rule I try to say things that have a modicum of importance or at the least are quick witted in nature. The things I see posted on social media though can make one smash their phones or put a fist through their monitor sometimes; ramblings about your stomach problems, serial comments on posts that are rhetorical, photos of children that aren’t your own, photos of celebrities with fake outlandish names for yourself to boot, minute by minute accounts of potty training for your baby, every check-in you’re making at Gikomba market, how hot your coffee is at Java… seriously, have things gotten this mundane?

I’m reminded of this quote from “Fight Club” wich summarizes our sad lives (accounts of which we give in running commentary of on social networks)

“I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire nation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… Our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning of that fact. And we’re very very pissed off.”

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