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Sunday, 26 June 2011

That Class Below the Middle Class


This world, like they say, is full of ironies. I am a waiting graduate and I have lots of worries about my future. Being who I am and where I am from is reason enough for me to worry. I am from the background below that they call the middle class, and I am not as lucky as the middle class is. First, Kenya universities, the public ones, are not enough so the country does not provide, or rather is not able to cater for the needs of all of us. This means that you have to get a private university to move on with life just like everybody else. The only problem is that in this beautiful country of ours, employers do not value private universities as much as they do public ones. Still, they value people from Western universities better than local ones. This is what Bob Marley was talking about when he said that we need to “emancipate [our]selves from mental slavery”. Valuing foreign colleges is an assumption that this great land of Kenya is not able at all to give a decent education like any other country around the world. Though they may be ranked in the thousands, our own universities give as much as any do. The only difference is that those that are ranked highly may have more resources and age than ours. That therefore disqualifies university ranking. The criteria used to rank them is unknown to any layman and is unrealistic in the sense that they may look at how much research your university has done, but I wish they could take their time and look back in time to see how the same universities were doing when they were as old as ours. I have nothing against Harvard, Oxford, nothing at all. I am only jealous that somebody from these places is bound to get a job right from under my nose, even though he got a second lower degree and I a first class.

I am not even as lucky as those who might be considered after the “prestigious” institutions. After “eating my future” in high school, like my high school principal, Mr Kariuki, M.A., used to tell us, I could not get a way to the public universities in this beautiful country of ours. Due to their number, the cut-off points were WTC high. Furthermore, I came, or rather come, from that class I have already mentioned above. This meant that I had to get myself a place at our private universities, whose paper is not valued at home. These universities are usually for those in the middle class and the rich. Mr Kariuki used to say, “Continue eating your future but when the future comes, you'll have nothing to eat”. My future had come and boy oh boy, I had nothing to eat. I started a computer course in a local college, and all my hope was gone. When you start this short course training programs, you are usually at the point of no return. Your parents have tried all they could do, but unfortunately, that was all they could manage to get you. A month passed in that college of ours, two months remained. Now, I do not know how it happened but Mama managed to get a friend to talk to who talked her about me going to Uganda for my studies. Word was that it was way cheaper; that you could school three of your sons there and still not be as stressed as one schooling a son in a Kenyan university. I could not wait when I heard the good news. I abandoned my course and got into a bus for Uganda, the land of many wonders. I was briefed that in that country where a president would rule a country full of kings and queens, I had to attend two more years of A level because their system of education was different from ours. I did and as we speak, I have managed to finish my degree and I am waiting for graduation.

But a point that I should not forget to mention is that in this country too, though education be cheaper, public universities are also 'limited' and I do not know what keeps following me (fate?). I have been attending a private university. That is the root cause of my worries. As I type this article in the Main Hall, I secretly pray to who I believe in, that someone may read my story and give a job when I am out of here.

In Kenya, like already stated, Western universities are ranked first, then public ones, and lastly private ones. The public ones, also stated, cannot absorb all of us and that does not make anyone who does not attend them a fool. Though I also stated that Uganda has cheap education, those of us in the class below the middle class do not know the meaning of that saying. As a matter of fact we spend a fortune to get that degree that an employer looks at with disgust written all over his face. Our government promises job creation; I remember it used to say 500,000 jobs in a year. If I go to the job market and fail to get myself one, should I go home wondering why? Should I probably think that I was the 500,001th person? It is still too early to complain. I am a teacher by training and our system is always said to have a shortage of teachers. I will try when I get there and if I do not, I will write you and tell you about it, maybe you might help.

Reading Instructions


If you happened to live in Africa, you might always wonder why the world does not want to leave us alone. We are among the most sociable of all human beings due to the fact that we never colonised anyone, we never shipped people of other races across seas to work for us, we never tried to kill Indians, Aborigines, Tasmanians, no one. As a matter of fact, other people did all those things to us, and you guessed right, we do not complain. I will not, however, talk about that kind of slavery. I will talk about multinational companies (includes associations, organisations, etc.). I was making myself a cup of chocolate the other day and thank God Africans do not read because I would never have bought anything owned by a multinational again. (Please get yourself a copy of “The Poor Reading Culture in Uganda” by Kimani wa Mumbi). What did I see except a reason to drop chocolate taking habits? In the instructions on how to prepare, I read something like: For a perfect chocolate cup, please pour four 'heaped' teaspoons into your cup and stir . . .. The word that made me question Cadbury is 'heaped'. I live in Africa for Chrissakes and when I buy a 500 g container of Drinking Chocolate I want it to stay for as long as it can. Matter of fact, if it could stay until three days before expiration there would be nothing better than that.

I have taken chocolate as a beverage for some time now and it is only the other day that I read those 'instructions'. And all those days I used to take my chocolate I never used to 'heap' let alone use four teaspoons, and it used to taste fabulous all the same. One teaspoonful is enough and the chocolate is usually perfect. The complaint against these companies is that they try to steal from the African the only thing that makes him exist, his dollar. (Please read: The Dollar Phenomenon – Below or Above the Dollar?)

After accidentally reading those 'instructions', I have gained a curious habit of seeing what else I should have been heaping all along and never noticed. I was using that detergent called Omo and God help them. These fellows were saying that for best results I had to heap my hand with their Omo in a basin with five litres of water. If I really have to heap my hand with Omo, you better look carefully because I will have a busy day. I will be doing a lot of laundry that day. The instructions do not even cater for those with big hands because suchlike people might do three-day's laundry if they really have to heap their palms. Now, I do not know what makes these people think that the African is just so ready to follow their instructions, and why they keep writing them even when they know that we do not read, but I know one thing: that if the African discovers that you are trying to make him broke, he will hate you and never buy your product again; he is already broke. My only special request to these companies is that knowing that we do not read, let them just stop writing instructions in these products of theirs. That will make the African content and we shall forever give you our custom.

Friday, 24 June 2011

Mind Rape of a School Girl


It may not be physical,
You may not even get to touch her.
Kissing her would be a thing
You can't in your dreams imagine.

It happens in your dreams,
Just after the heaviest of meals.
In the staffroom you kiss
her. And her thighs you wish
(for).

Might not even tell her
But every time she pass, mwaa.
Young and old school teacher,
That's my daughter teach her.

Teach her the world;
Teach her her pants to hold
tight. 'Cause if you don't, and differ,
That's a dream you defer.

My daughter's math teacher
Everyday you kid her
That without her sleeping
With you she's failing.

But that's just in your dreams;
Your staffroom dreams.
Teach her the world
please. And her pants to hold
(tight).

I, Kenyan


Once riding somewhere in old Kenya
Heart filled, head filled with glee;
I saw a Kenyan
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was young and may be small
But he was no whit bigger!
And when I smiled he poked out
His tongue and called me Kikuyu.

I saw the whole of Kenya
And all that fateful December;
Of all that happened there
That's all that I remember.

Power (To the African Leader)


Hold fast to the office
For if you let go
Your life'll be a living hell
That you cannot face.

Hold fast to power
For when you'll be out
Your life a nightmare'll be
From which you waketh not.

Meal Deferred


                   What happens when a meal's deferred?

Does the child dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or starve like a dog–
And then die?
Does he crumble and fall over--
like a starved puppy?

Maybe he just sags
like a heavy beast.

Does He really exist?

Africa in my Insides


Open your metallic door,
You beautiful Acoli girl.
I may not be from your side
But Africa is in my insides.

You tell me I'm from the other side,
But truthfully I fell in love with you.
No matter our cultures
We are of the same feather.