The week that was.

We have just concluded the 47th week of the year 2010 and what a week it was in the proud,sovereign state of Kenya.As the curtains are drawn on chilly  November and the long awaited for festive December comes along,Kenya and East Africa have a lot to be excited about.
This past week,folks across the globe witnessed yet another momentous feat(s) achieved by two daring Kenyans in the pursuit of excellence.Less than a fortnight ago,they were smiles form every corner of Kenya,from the humongous rift valley area to the coastal town of Mombasa,from the plains of Machakos to the tip of Mt.Kenya,the country was awash with pride and celebration for their son David Rudisha who had conquered the athletic world.A feat no Kenyan had surmounted before,David rose to become the first Kenyan to hold the IAAF world Athlete of the year award and at 21 years of age,he is the youngest ever holder of the most coveted piece of silverware in the Athletic world.Kudos to you David and kudos to Kenya.

 Moving on,before we could all catch our breath on David's triumphant exploits,we witness yet another young,exuberant,enterprising Kenyan who decided against all odds to triumph and rise above all kinds of hurdles to excel and contribute tremendously to the country and region from which he hails.
Evans Wadongo was nominated and made it to the top 10 CNN heroes for 2010,the only African on stage with the other 10 and the first representative from East Africa,Evans,at the tender age of 23(I am older than this chap and all I am spreading seems like darkness) is literally lighting up Kenya for free.At a press conference,he had this to say,
"I want to reach out to as many rural communities as possible. ... The impact is saving lives."
His home-made lanterns have provided light for families across the region.Fresh out of university,this young man made Kenya proud for his wonderful innovation that should have seen him win first spot were it not for the audacious,altruistic,compassionate Anuradha Koirala.This woman single handedly made yours truly cry in the wee hours of Saturday morning as I watched her story on CNN,(that story i will write&cry about later)
Evans is living testimony that where there is a will,there is a way.He is an inspiration to the youth world over and he is a man to watch in this 21st Century.And what better way to pose for a photo than with celebrated,drop dead gorgeous,luscious,voluptuous actress..,OK, I apologize for getting ahead of myself but here he is

To add the icing on the cake or literally put the cherry on top,a little-known lady with an amazing passion and desire to change the world with her program and education agenda  made it to the top 3 contestants of the highly acclaimed,crowd pulling,sensational NBC t.v show and premier competition, The Apprentice.Needless to say that this lady is proudly Kenyan and to say she is going places may be an understatement.

A lot is happening in Kenya and important to note is that unlike the majority of their East African counterparts,rather than bask in this unprecedented glory and achievement,folks in Kenya are writing,creating,inventing,developing new paradigms and reaching for the skies in their various fields and yours truly is left wondering if some of her more often than not sleepy counterparts(read Ug.&T.z,luckily Rwanda woke up in time)will be able to catch up with this behemoth.
I will be watching and waiting.

Adventure.101

It started out like an ordinary day in Western Nairobi(commonly known as Westy) the birds were singing,the sun was shining and the tone,mood and atmosphere was just right for what I had been planning to do for the last three weeks.I had been warned by various people that trying to climb a mountain may seem all noble,grand and exciting but when you wake up the next morning with your muscles feeling like you spent the entire night on a treadmill,then you know you should have listened.That said,the only thing I knew that would stand between me and climbing that mountain was death.I went around my morning chores like I had all the time in the world,played some nice old skool music to accompany my coffee and eggs as I fastened my shoelaces, I knew before hand that this was going to be one of those days.The calls kept coming in one after another from my lovely partner in crime(crime here being climbing the mountain) Angy who as always was charged with the responsibility of making sure that we get to Thika on time.First call,7.30a.m..,
Angy: Davis,where are you?
Davis: I am around Odeon.
Angy: I don't hear any noise in the background.
Davis: The matatu has no radio.
Angy:Davis are you sure you are@Odeon.
Davis:Angy,you are not listening,I said I am around Odeon not at Odeon..,beep,beep,beep..,do you hear that? thats a matatu.we are stuck in traffic.
Angy:Ok,let me wait.
My dear Angy,what would I do without her...I finish my coffee,jump into my boxers,oops,I meant wear my track suit and then hit the road.
I get to Waiyaki way and they are neither buses nor matatus.I wait for about 5min.and one comes by,I jump into it and off we go.Next stop Kenya cinema,a convenient meeting point for urban dwellers who are not familiar with the city like yours truly.
After several apologies and promises never to be late again to Angy and Jacky who patiently waited for us,we strolled down town to get matatus heading to Thika,the industrial centre of Kenya(I'll come to that later)
We board one of them,pay our dues and off we go.
Now if you have never travelled in a Nairobi matatu,then you won't understand the euphoric state that engulfs you when you enter one with plasma screens,surround audio system and a nice D.J(read driver)this mat(as they call them)was off the hook,in Kiswahili I would say "ngoma kwa ma3 inabamba sana.,"
..,sounds of Beenie man,Method man(I dnt really like this man),Elephant man, Kelly man and lots of other women as well wafted through the air as we travelled to Thika,setting the right kind of mood for merrier times yet to come.We left Lavy somewhere looking for a lost friend.
Isn't it rythmical the way my Kenyan people just love the letter Y,Jackie is Jacky,Angela is Angy,Laviener is Lavy,Westlands is Westy,Parklands is Parky,Tuskys is well,Tuskys...,then the one that shocked me,a gal at church called the pastor..,wait for it...,Pasy..,I am not even sure I spelt that correctly.
We got to Thika at about 10a.m and lo and behold I found  a bevy of ladies all warming up to take on the mountain.They were draped in all sorts of caps,shorts,tank tops,flip flops,straw hats,Ray Burns or is it buns.,(I have done some shopping before as you can read) We packed our gear and off we went;
Destination: Mt.Kilamambogo.
The ride there was bumpy and rough.Alfie our guide and protector made it look like we were a stone's throw away when we actually several stones(literally) away.

We finally got there.I was exhausted by this time and just wondered how I would make it to the top of the mountain if I was already tired.

But like I said the only thing that was going to stand in between me and that mountain was death.So without further ado.We paid our dues,got a female guide who looked drop dead gorgeous with her rifle slung across her back and off we went.We were reliably informed of certain hyenas that prowl the grounds looking for mountain climbers dressed exactly like us.

When we started out,it was safer to let the people who could take on the hyenas without weapons lead the way,thats why above here,you can see Angy is at the front and I am@the back pretentiously pushing those who can't climb anymore.

What was meant to be a15km journey seemed like 100km after just 6km up the steepy slope.The muscles got weary and some felt like they would rather die than climb anymore.Yours truly was not ruffled.Remember I had been preparing for this.We almost called the ambulance but they too couldn't risk going up the slope even for our dear friend Grace.

It was tough,it wasn't easy.Only the strong could manage this herculean task.

The strides grew smaller and the gasps louder as we went.The law of the jungle says,
Only the strong survive and strong indeed some of us were.

Clearly Shiko couldn't believe she had made it.

Naomi proved why she could have gone on to beat Rudisha had her parents let her pursue athletics and not academics.
Together we basked at the top of Mt.Kilamambogo.

Don't ask me where the guys were,I have no idea.May be they just didn't make it..,
The trip down was nothing short of a tumble here,a stumble there as we ran down helter-skelter..,

Little did I know that our next destination was the 14Falls,if I had been told earlier,I would have worn my boxers so as to be able too swim,but I guess they knew how scary a sight I would be,especially for the foreigners,so they kept me out of the loop.
Now,if you live in Kenya and haven't been to the 14 Falls then you should be ashamed of yourself.This place was just what we were looking for after the long tedious climb.Presenting to you the Falls.

Now,I thought I had had my fill of fun when some one suggested we go for a boat ride..,(to be cont'd)
first the falls.

you see they were actually some other guy(s) beside myself.

Crossing the murky waters.

Angy spreading the love.

 Everybody spreading the love.
And now I present to you the best part of the entire adventure.It was a 5min.ride on an 8 seater boat(we were 14) from one end of the falls to the next.Ideally,it should take 5min.ours lasted 15min.I have never seen more people scared of water in my whole life.

 And as you would have guessed,while everyone was screaming,shouting and holding on for their dear lives,yours truly was sitted back doing this.

Special thanks to the people who organized this wonderful adventure and gave me the opportunity to;
1.See a part of Kenya,I didn't know.
2.Laugh my heart out.
3.Enjoy the after party....,
Special thanks go to Vig,Alfie&Angy..,u made this happen and for that you take my award for couple of the day.

And the lovely photographer who enabled this blog to have such lovely pics,Emmah,my childhood sweetheart.

Asante Sana..,

French Attack.

"My French classes have not done much to improve my French, but they have made me aware of a truly alarming malaise in our own culture. The French are taking over the English language - perhaps as a prelude to revoking the Louisiana Purchase, reclaiming Canada, and reversing the result of the Napoleonic Wars.

: : When I started a dossier on this phenomenon, with the intention of publishing an exposé, I uncovered an embaras de richesses. The French invasion of our language began with the Norman invasion of England in 1066, and (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose) it continues today, under cover of a clever masquerade. We are constantly told that the French language is being destroyed by a mélange of English words. It's something of a cause célèbre here that English clichés like "le weekend" and "le snack bar" are polluting their precious vocabulary. My riposte is that, au contraire, it is the English language that is being polluted. French words have been imported en masse. As we say au revoir to the fin de siècle, we scarcely know which language we are speaking any more.

: : If you are something of a bon vivant, you know that French has long been the language of haute cuisine. We go to the bistro for hors d'oeuvres and an entrée, à la carte, wish one another bon appetit, and wonder whether the plat du jour of chicken à la king would be more piquant with a soupçon of bouquet garni. But food is only the tip of the iceberg. The French have pulled off a tour de force of verbal imperialism, claiming carte blanche to rewrite the entire English language, and I don't see any chance of a rapprochement unless we isolate the whole French nation behind a linguistic cordon sanitaire.

: : As a writer, I can't afford to be blasé about this. My native tongue is en route to becoming a pastiche, or even a purée. Sometimes, faute de mieux, I find myself using a French word, because it happens to be the mot juste. But consider this: if an English-speaking person is looking for a job, he or she must send out a short account of their work experience - not an old-fashioned Latin curriculum vitae but a subversive French resumé. In today's laissez-faire economy, where nouveau riche entrepreneurs are too blasé to read a whole life history, it might be more à propos for candidates to send a précis of their resumé, or even a simple aide memoire.

: : My cri de coeur went unheeded by the Chargé d'Affaires at the British Council, who dismissed my concerns as outré. I discussed the problem, tête à tête, with my French teacher. She is a connoisseur of language, and I thought we had a good rapport. But it was déjà vu all over again. She was quite brusque, and we soon reached an impasse. "This is some stupid bête noire of the English," she said." It's completely passé. It is never comme il faut to use French words in English."

: : If there is any good news in this sad story, it is that I'll soon be able to speak French perfectly, simply by speaking English. So my raison d'etre for learning the language is rapidly disappearing, and may soon receive the coup de grâce. The triumph of French over English is almost a fait accompli."

: Merde!

Mon Dieu, why did I write that?

                                                                                                            David K.

IFEA2010 in pictures.

The story wouldn't be complete without the comedian Hannigton Bugingo himself.

Our very own resident D.J D-Lite.Now,i haven't met a man who knew more about Old Skool than James Brown.

We danced the night away till we had to tilt our heads to be able to see straight.

The pool by night made me wish I could live here forever.

When I said a melting pot of cultures,this is what I meant, from Central Asia through North America down south to East Africa we sojourned across the entire world.

When I say we talked about issues ranging from world peace to caviar,this is what the dessert looked like.

Imagining a Future for you and me.

Imagining a Future for you and me.

We waited patiently and unwearingly for the Imagined event like our lives depended on it.The planning had taken several months most of which yours truly was conspicuously absent but as fate would have it,the min.he showed face,he was thrown head fast into the deep end of the planning process and being the man that he is,he took the proverbial bull by it's horns and carried on without complaint charging through October like he was wounded.The first of it's kind,the Imagining Futures Event(E.A) 2010 was an event that aimed at bringing together a diverse group of minds to interact,reflect and debate a range of issues linked to regional creativity,the knowledge economy and the place of the arts and new media in East Africa in this 21 Century(a recurrent theme of mine)It sought to inform the thoughts surrounding curriculum development for the AgaKhan University Faculty of Arts&Science.
The first day was filled with expectation so thick you could slice it with a knife,hope,a strong desire on our part to execute the best conference ever in the cosmopolitan city that Nairobi is.Nothing was left to chance,we were all charged with the sole duty of making sure this event was a success and a success we intended to make.
The team was thin on numbers but extravagant on ideas,creativity,enthusiasm,energy, and timely precision.We had;
Yvonne;the brain child and ingenious architect.

Mike;the creative sculptor

Reshma: the artistic dancer

Janet:the meticulous planner

Mercy: the busy bee

Davis:the nocturnal technician.

The venue was the plush,ostentatious,grandiose,brazen,posh(feel free to add to the adjectives)Tribe hotel nested conveniently away from the hustle and bustle of the street life providing a serene almost heavenly ambience.

It was specifically chosen since it matched our ambitions,objectives,style,elegance,poise and most of all because it provided the right haven for a melting pot of cultures,ideas and insights to bubble all the way to the top where we could effortlessly extract them.
Given the circumstances,our participants willingly obliged and together we laughed,sang,danced and talked about a myriad of topics from world peace to caviar.

Good Ol' days.

Remember the good ol' days? It was a time when bread cost a nickel, people were kind to one another, and life seemed so simple. "Ah the good ol' days... if only life were like this today, then I would be happy and successful". Shyeaa... right.

The concept of the "good ol' days" must be one of our society's biggest delusions, top reasons for depression, as well as most often used excuse for lack of success. It is the gloomy belief that the world is headed downhill and life was "better" at some time in the past. Believers of this theory of gloom and doom make excuses for their lack of success by proclaiming, "if only...".

Here is a little known fact: people tend to focus on past successes and current problems. To rephrase, our minds tend to remember our own past successes as well as past global successes made by society without acknowledging the failures. Our minds also tend to focus on our current problems, no matter how insignificant. When thinking about inflation, people tend to remember when bread cost a nickel but forget that they made only ten cents an hour. Or they think about how clean the air was before automobiles, but forget about not being able to walk on a city street without stepping in horse poop. As you can see, this creates a skewed or unfair perception of reality by seeing only the successes of the past and the problems of today.

When were the good ol' days? Back in the days of colonial America where our "kinder" ancestors treated people as property? How about the early 20th century when polio was killing tens of thousands of children? The 1930s where Nazism was growing rapidly? The '40s with WWII, the '60s with the spread of drugs, the '80s with cell phones the size of toasters? The truth is that the "good ol' days" are today. It has been said, that which does not kill us, makes us stronger. As a global society, the same concept holds true: that which does not destroy us, makes us wiser and better. It is because of slavery we now have civil rights, it is because of the holocaust we have a deeper compassion for differences in the human race, and it is because of the Internet bust we have a more stable economy today.

Realize that the good ol' days are today. The world is full of opportunities today that did not exist yesterday. Every day both science and technology improve allowing people to live longer, healthier lives. Information is readily available at the speed of light allowing us to expand our minds like never before in history. Embrace today as the best time in history, for there is no better time to pursue your dreams.

The above article is from the book "Year To Success", a 366 day course in personal achievement. Visit this page tomorrow for the next article in the book.

It was a bright sunny day, the sun shone extravagantly on all of God’s grandiose creation; the birds were singing lovely mellow tunes that echoed across the entire cosmos. It was a beautiful day. In a little known hospital somewhere in the land that Winston Churchill famously called the Pearl of Africa, a bouncing baby boy was born, his first gasp of air filled his frail little lungs with excitement as he cried out as if to announce his grand entrance into the universe.
That little boy stands before you 24 years later to metaphorically break the ice.
The last of four children, it was quite surprising, infact puzzling to find out that the biological distance between my three siblings was at most 2 years, however between me and the nearest sibling, stood not 1,not 2,not 3 but a staggering 8 years of inactivity, surely this was no coincidence. As is often the case with some families, some things are just not, planned for and as such I was rightfully labelled Tashobya which in my mother tongue means God’s work is never erroneous because he doesn’t make mistakes and consequently I was not as a result of an unplanned nocturnal adventure but the product of God’s timely dispensation.
Crawling around in my diapers with siblings old enough to use me as a soccer ball was no easy task because believe you me, I became a source of entertainment for my older brothers who figured that it was more interesting to kick around a ball that could make some sort of sound.
I grew fast and quick and sought solace in my school mates. The formative years of school were nothing but bliss as we ran helter-skelter and played from dusk till dawn. The number of people beating me in the name of discipline increased exponentially since now it appeared to me that between my school and home, there seemed a grand conspiracy to reduce the size of my sitting equipment and fine tune my audio receptors as if I was partially deaf.
As the beatings increased, I toughened, my skin became taut and almost totally oblivious of the pain inflicted by the sticks and sometimes stones. It was fun. I really miss it.
Boarding life came as a much anticipated relief and break from the humdrum of school-home, home-school and with it came a refreshing sense of freedom like never before. I was thrown into the deep end of a Seventh Day Adventist Institution that among many other things taught me that Saturday was the day of rest. This I found quite exciting because it meant that the weekend started early no classes Friday afternoon, songs of praise and worship in the evening and a serene, calm almost heavenly ambience that ensured that we all rested regardless of class, denomination or urgency of exam preparation. It was fun, I miss it.
The years went by pretty fast, O-Levels done, A-levels came first and silent, 2 years to digest why Napoleon and Hitler should have lived long enough to be punished. I could not fathom why on earth they had us studying about dead unpopular men but this I was not at liberty to decide so it was while here that I developed a voracious appetite for the written word and this held me in good stead as I traversed the country debating, arguing and trying to convince everyone why I am right and they are wrong.
As if on cue, I was sent packing to the one place where I could meet like-minded people who were bent on telling me why they are right and I am wrong. Suffice to say that battle still dwells on.
I studied, wrote and travelled extensively. I went to Lowood to meet the gracious Helen Burns, went to Thornfield to have tea at Rochester’s palatial abode and flew to Ireland to meet Peter the mayor and his effervescent brother Dr. Stockman, a true friend of the people. I went to West Africa where I met Ousmene Sembene as he fought for God’s little bits of wood. I travelled far and wide and on one of my many expeditions, I met a very famous Kenyan writer who had this to say to me, “When a bird in flight grows weary, it perches on the nearest branch.” And to honour him for this wonderful observation, I decided to perch here in Nairobi where I have been for the last 2 months working with the Agakhan University.

Toastmaster

My 1st speech as a Toast Master,
Time check;7:20
Venue:Parklands Sports Club
The atmosphere was tense,an ice breaker it is called,I felt like I was the one caught up in an ice block and I needed to be broken.Speaking has always and always will be a natural and reflexive way for me to create space between my upper and lower jaw and emit some sort of audible sound but this evening was like no other.I was just seconds away from delivering my first speech as a Toastmaster,surely I at least need a drink to calm my nerves before approaching the lectern not just because I felt a little nervous but because I hadn't prepared adequately.
Preparation is key and is lesson numero uno of the Speaking Manual.
How on earth did time pass me by? Blame it on work,I was overwhelmed by the conversation,sumptuous meals,resplendent ambience and the extravagant display of beauty at Tribe hotel last week as I tried to imagine a future for the 21st Century graduate.In a bid to seem composed,unfazed,unruffled and the least dignified,I wore my red tie(it has served me well)I had made various trips to the saloon to get rid of my overgrown beard so as to look prim,proper and well groomed as this would accentuate my articulation,you certainly can\t look like Wolverine and speak like Joel Osteen.
I heard my well constructed introduction barely mouthed inaudibly by the TM of the day and I knew I was off on a wrong a foot.
I stood up with all the courage I could master and walked gallantly to the lectern.
As I stood there head and shoulders upright clearing my throat,I could see straight into the eyes of my audience and could tell that they all had a ravenous hunger to hear and listen to exactly what I was about to say.They seemed glued to their seats and this is what I told them.....,

A courageous letter form a friend.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.
- Ambrose Redmoon

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.
- Mark Twain

Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.
- John Wayne

I like the definitions of courage above, which all suggest that courage is the ability to get yourself to take action in spite of fear. The word courage derives from the Latin cor, which means "heart." But true courage is more a matter of intellect than of feeling. It requires using the uniquely human part of your brain (the neocortex) to wrest control away from the emotional limbic brain you share in common with other mammals. Your limbic brain signals danger, but your neocortex reasons that the danger isn't real, so you simply feel the fear and take action anyway. The more you learn to act in spite of fear, the more human you become. The more you follow the fear, the more you live like a lower mammal. So the question, "Are you a man or a mouse?" is consistent with human neurology.

Courageous people are still afraid, but they don't let the fear paralyze them. People who lack courage will give into fear more often than not, which actually has the long-term effect of strengthening the fear. When you avoid facing a fear and then feel relieved that you escaped it, this acts as a psychological reward that reinforces the mouse-like avoidance behavior, making you even more likely to avoid facing the fear in the future. So the more you avoid asking someone out on a date, the more paralyzed you'll feel about taking such actions in the future. You are literally conditioning yourself to become more timid and mouse-like.

Such avoidance behavior causes stagnation in the long run. As you get older, you reinforce your fear reactions to the point where it's hard to even imagine yourself standing up to your fears. You begin taking your fears for granted; they become real to you. You cocoon yourself into a life that insulates you from all these fears: a stable but unhappy marriage, a job that doesn't require you to take risks, an income that keeps you comfortable. Then you rationalize your behavior: You have a family to support and can't take risks, you're too old to shift careers, you can't lose weight because you have "fat" genes. Five years... ten years... twenty years pass, and you realize that your life hasn't changed all that much. You've settled down. All that's really left now is to live out the remainder of your years as contently as possible and then settle yourself into the ground, where you'll finally achieve total safety and security.

But there's something else going on behind the scenes, isn't there? That tiny voice in the back of your mind recalls that this isn't the kind of life you wanted to live. It wants more, much more. It wants you to become far wealthier, to have an outstanding relationship, to get your body in peak physical condition, to learn new skills, to travel the world, to have lots of wonderful friends, to help people in need, to make a meaningful difference. That voice tells you that settling into a job where you sell widgets the rest of your life just won't cut it. That voice frowns at you when you catch a glance of your oversized belly in the mirror or get winded going up a flight of stairs. It beams disappointment when it sees what's become of your family. It tells you that the reason you have trouble motivating yourself is that you aren't doing what you really ought to be doing with your life... because you're afraid. And if you refuse to listen, it will always be there, nagging you about your mediocre results until you die, full of regrets for what might have been.

So how do you respond to this ornery voice that won't shut up? What do you do when confronted by that gut feeling that something just isn't right in your life? What's your favorite way to silence it? Maybe drown it out by watching TV, listening to the radio, working long hours at an unfulfilling job, or consuming alcohol and caffeine and sugar.

But whenever you do this, you lower your level of consciousness. You sink closer towards an instinctive animal and move away from becoming a fully conscious human being. You react to life instead of proactively going after your goals. You fall into a state of learned helplessness, where you begin to believe that your goals are no longer possible or practical for you. You become more and more like a mouse, even trying to convince yourself that life as a mouse might not be so bad after all, since everyone around you seems to be OK with it. You surround yourself with your fellow mice, and on the rare occasions that you encounter a fully conscious human being, it scares the hell out of you to remember how much of your own courage has been lost.

Regards,
Eric.