The African Accent
Do you speak African?A tale of two afflictions
On this particular morning she woke up feeling less than 100%. Her body was experiencing ill sensations from a combination of the previous night’s consumption and the lack of food in her alcohol scorched digestive system. Although she was quite accustomed to regular Friday night binges followed promptly by Saturday morning hangovers, her body was sending a new kind of distress signal which made her panic enough to make a doctor’s appointment.
The preliminary diagnosis was not at all comforting. The doctor, though reluctant to give any conclusive answers until the test results came back, suspected that my good friend was suffering from a choice of two common infections. The ailments that the good doctor referred to were of the kind which supposedly afflicted the nether regions of unfortunate souls who indulge in carnal pleasures with suspected carriers, and without adequate protection. Her first reaction was to speak to her then boyfriend and only lover at the time. That conversation didn’t go well considering that his advice to her was, “Pray harder and read the bible.”
When the doctor finally gave her a conclusive diagnosis, my dear friend was relieved beyond measure. She was so happy about her womanhood being free of infection that the news about her malfunctioning kidney didn’t seem to bother her one bit. In fact the doctor’s news became cause for celebration and we did drink some more. So, dear readers, I ask you this: given the choice between a sexually transmitted disease and a malfunctioning kidney, which would you rather be afflicted with?
Mwistar, the urban legend … of sorts
I took some time to rethink the direction that The African Accent is taking. I have concluded that I should keep it as it is – casual, personal and a bit rough on the edges. Although I am now doing some formal writing for a few sites going for that African angle, I don’t want to taint this sanctuary with their ideology.
And to that end, I want to share a few thoughts that have been inspired by a combination of my teenage excesses, the perceived feathers that I ruffled during that time and my reputation as a care-free soul.
When I say that my reputation precedes me, it is not a figure of speech. Just last week, I spent a weekend with fellow countrymen and women from the motherland, Kenya. Although I had never met these fun loving folks in person before, they had heard about me – it turns out that I am some sort of Kenyan urban legend in Canada.
This was not an isolated case – somebody else who visited Toronto over a weekend in August mentioned something similar.
“While I was in Toronto, I met somebody who knew you from your Ottawa days. Let’s just say that your reputation precedes you. LOL!”
On Twitter, another good pal in Nairobi said, “Met some of @mwistar’s Ottawa peeps. His exploits can be heard a whole world away.”
I didn’t ask what was said about me, but from the sounds of it, I don’t think it’s the stuff I want to put on my resume. Nevertheless, it is part of my urban legend and I will be happy to hear from anybody who has heard about Mwistar in Canada.
AU & ICC: Who holds the power?
When the International Criminal Court (ICC) indicted Sudan president, Omar Bashir, for crimes in Darfur, The African Union (AU) strongly objected to the arrest warrant issued for him. In fact, only South Africa and Botswana openly declared that they would arrest Bashir if he dared travel to their jurisdiction.
Others, including Kenya, were not so keen on the matter – Bashir joined the celebrations during the promulgation of Kenya’s new constitution in Nairobi in late 2010. So, it came as no surprise that, when prominent Kenyan politicians became subject to ICC investigations themselves, the AU (just like in the Sudan case) backed their request to defer the cases.
Despite international objections, AU insisted that its members would not co-operate with the ICC because the UN Security Council had failed to act upon a request to defer Bashir’s case. In essence, AU told the world that its authority superseded that of the ICC in Africa, regardless of whether or not member states were signatory to the Rome Statute. The prevailing argument was that ICC unfairly targets Africans.
Why is Gaddafi’s case different?
The African Union has stayed conspicuously silent during the uprisings in Libya. But in a shocking feat of co-operation earlier this week, the United Nations General Assembly (including AU member states) unanimously voted to refer the Gaddafi regime for investigations by the ICC for crimes against humanity. It seems that AU has abandoned its founder, Gaddafi, to the mercy of the same court whose jurisdiction it fought so hard to limit in Africa until now. The impact of this is significant considering the organization’s position on the Kenya and Sudan cases.
Feb 28th, 2011: Stand For Kenya
Courtesy of Kenya 28 Feb
We are extremely proud to be Kenyan!
We are proud of our beautiful country!
We are proud of our diversity cultures and traditions!
We are proud of our heroes!
We are proud of our high achievers!
We are proud of being hustlers!
We are proud of our hoods!
We are proud of our tribes and twengs!
We are proud of our kanges and our mats!
We are proud of our artists and musicians!
We are proud of our industries and farms!
We are proud of our sports teams!
On the 28th of February 2011 at 1pm, wherever you are, at work, in the supermarket, in traffic, in school, on campus, in hospitals, in churches, in mosques, in temples, in synagogues, on sports pitches, in court, on your farm, at police stations, at armed forces barracks, in matatus, in buses, on the beach, in the game parks, at the airport, in parliament, in State House, in your homes ..
On the 28th of February 2011 at 1pm, we stand
On the 28th of February 2011 at 1pm, we unite
On the 28th of February 2011 at 1pm, we shall speak in one voice.
On the 28th of February 2011 at 1pm, let’s sing our beautiful and powerful National Anthem, all three verses.
On the 28th February 2011 the world will watch as Kenyans stand UNITED;
1pm, 1 nation, 1 people, 1 anthem, united in 1 prayer for 1 Kenya
We are Kenya!
2010 in review
The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:
The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.
Crunchy numbers
A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 13,000 times in 2010. That’s about 31 full 747s.
In 2010, there were 40 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 209 posts. There were 28 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 1mb. That’s about 2 pictures per month.
The busiest day of the year was August 14th with 215 views. The most popular post that day was Crazy world...
Where did they come from?
The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, toronto-exotic-massage.com, twitter.com, blogger.com, and sheng.co.ke.
Some visitors came searching, mostly for maslow’s hierarchy of needs, mugabe, african accent, maslow’s hierarchy of needs pyramid, and samson and delilah.
Attractions in 2010
These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.
Crazy world.. November 2008
Of Maslow & Migrants May 2009
2 comments
Twisted Fate February 2009
4 comments
The Chinese exotic massage: lessons learned March 2010
3 comments
Does Sex Sell? June 2009
7 comments
African Politics: The village and its insecure child
African leaders south of the Sahara too often use the defense of political interference every time the lens of the world zooms in on a serious issue. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not suggesting that African countries are immune to political interference, no. I am saying that the region has many countries clinging to their respective sovereignty blankets like insecure toddlers.
This tendency to hide behind the blanket to abscond from responsibility is a handicap in a world of increased global integration. Africa has largely ignored its potential and impact internationally and opted to concentrate on domestic power struggles.
Consequently domestic politics has become so volatile, from domestic and not international interference, that it has not been able to mature on a set of common collective principles that form a society cohesive enough to do away with petty tribal and ethnic differences magnified during colonialism.
Mugabe still does it in his fiery speeches about imperialists, yet in such eloquent English.
The political and military standoff in Cote d’Ivoire is another example: the incumbent President who lost in the recent elections has refused to relinquish power, he has asked the UN peacekeepers present in the country to leave, and has claimed political interference by the international community. The irony is that he personally asked for the peacekeepers when the rebels, who supported the winning candidate, were closing in on him.
Kenya is no exception: the government ratified the Rome Statute in March 2005. Now that the International Criminal Court wants to indict prominent personalities for crimes committed after the 2007 poll, parliament is considering a withdrawal from the treaty. The cries of political interferences are very audible.
Unfortunately, any investigations initiated while the treaty is enforceable will continue.
The same is true about the reaction on the leaked US embassy cables: nobody seemed to mind the US Ambassador until the Kenya government became embarrassed by his assessment of the country, which ironically many Kenyans polled online agree with. Nonetheless, a political interference battle cry is audible once again and the sovereignty blanket is being used as a shield from the fallout of revealed corruption within the government.
PEV: The case for a local tribunal
The question isn’t whether or not to set up a local tribunal; the issue is how soon we can get it.
It is absurd to think one can eradicate an epidemic by treating only six of the worst cases. Therefore, the International Criminal Court (ICC) summons announced on Dec 15th, 2010, should be an opportunity for Kenya to kick-start a conscious domestic process of tackling the ethnic issues in a mature and transparent framework.
However, rather than act as an alternative to The Hague, the independent local process should be in addition to the ICC process. It is necessary to do so for two reasons; prosecuting only six suspects in a crime that perhaps involved thousands sends the wrong message; and the ICC cannot prosecute the crime of political tribalism.
The 2008 mayhem, though appalling, was not the first time Kenyans were victims of electoral violence fuelled by ethnic tensions. Human Rights Watch has documented that hundreds of thousands of Rift Valley Province residents were displaced and hundreds more killed as a result of politically motivated ethnic bloodshed between 1991 and 1997. The 2002 poll did not spare the voter either, though not as widespread as before, tensions on ethnic lines were still present.
So, as people welcome the ICC summons for the suspected masterminds of that bloody episode in 2008, they should also set expectations for what the court can deliver. The 2008 Post Elections Violence was only a snapshot of an ongoing problem. Even if Ocampo secures convictions for the crimes he is going to prosecute, the political culture in the country probably won’t change. Plus, the violence is but a recurring symptom of a bigger issue: tribalism.
Tribalism in politics cannot be solved at The Hague; rather, it must be tackled in-house by those it affects and those who understand it best. Therefore, a domestic judicial process must be part of any plan and the sooner the nation accepts this, the better the odds are for avoiding another electoral catastrophe.
A crude existence: The demise of Homo Petrolis
The impact of depleted oil supplies is far greater than anything most people can fathom. Crude is usually associated only with petrol and this error encourages people to overlook everything else dependent on each barrel of oil pulled from the ground. Oil is far more important that gasoline – it is actually responsible for much of human life as we know it. About a century and a half ago oil developed a new species: Homo Petrolis. This short-lived creature, whose success has almost entirely depended on this very finite resource, is now faced with possible extinction.
In 1960, the world was home to 3 billion people. It is half a century later and the population has more than doubled to 6.9 billion. At this rate, one should expect to share Mother Earth with about 16 billion people by the year 2060. However, it is unlikely that this prediction will become a reality simply because oil, the sustenance of modern life, will dry up very soon. If Hubbert is right (and he probably is) the world has already used up about half of the total supply in the last 150 years. Therefore, the very existence of Homo Petrolis beyond the next 100 years will depend on this species’ ability to find a suitable substitute for oil – failure to do so will be catastrophic.
The beginning of the end will be marked by constant increases in the world price of oil (sound familiar?) – Which begs the question: how much is too much? Relative to human labour, the energy derived from oil is extremely inexpensive. Consider this: one barrel trades for about $85 and contains 5,800,000 BTU of energy. This energy is the equivalent of 11 people working 40 hours/week for 52 weeks. Currently, a single person living right on the poverty line ($1.25/day) earns $456.25 per year- this is 60 times more expensive than the equivalent cost of energy from crude. Oil would have to trade for about $5100 per barrel to equate a poor man’s wage.
Aside from fuel, crude oil provides synthetic polymers that are used to make plastics, nylon, polyester, spandex, PVC and several other daily use consumer and industrial products. Without them, you can kiss goodbye the elastic band holding up your underwear, plastics, carpets, and Australian bank notes, consumer electronics, Kevlar and everything else that contains a non-organic polymer. This apocalyptic end to the world as we know it will come in a series of staggered blows, starting with the poor before eventually knocking out the rich as well.
Low income countries that do not produce any oil (i.e. most African countries) will be the first to return to the dark ages – the price of fuel and goods containing oil by-products will elevate higher than their citizens’ incomes can jump. Thereafter, low income and middle income oil producing countries will either be outbid for their own oil by those who have more resources, or simply strong-armed to give up the goods. Eventually the wells will run dry and a new reality will become the norm. Unless somebody finds an effective replacement for crude oil, Homo Petrolis will face the very real possibility of regressing to a pre-1850 peasant lifestyle by the end of this century.
Who is Sonko?
Naturally, the masses have tuned into Sonko’s frequency seeking some clarification on this, the latest version of politician on Kenya’s payroll. The answer to the question of who Sonko is depends on one’s perception.
Honourable Gideon Mike ‘Sonko’ ‘Munga’ Kioko Mbuvi has been hailed as the role model Kenyan youth have been waiting for. He is 35, living well above the current poverty going rate of USD 1.25/day, and is the newest NARC Kenya member of parliament for Makadara Constituency in Nairobi. Since his election, Sonko has declared that his MP salary will be donated to his constituents until he is elected as Senator of Nairobi County and, the assumption is, Mheshimiwa Mbuvi will continue to donate that salary when (if) that day comes.
All this sounds very dandy, especially coupled with other Sonko declarations on job creation, women’s issues, the youth, et cetera, et cetera. However, there is another side to Hon. Mbuvi that needs some scrutiny. His alleged brushes with the law include an assault charge as well as something about escaping custody to attend a funeral, and rumours of an open warrant for the arrest of an individual who shares the MPs name.
A blog titled, The Latest Kenyan News, posted a poetic pro-Sonko article that says:
Mike Sonko has shown Kenyan youth that they can make it through life without sweating the small stuff like mathematics, civics and geography.
Leadership capacity can be demonstrated even before school — by learning so much English that you can feel confident to dispense of its use and live in total freedom without ever needing to speak a foreign tongue.
Sonko was also involved in a recent road rage incident that resulted in a famous radio personality being roughed up by his gun-toting bodyguards. This turned out to be a non-issue for his fans — they are literally stumbling over each other in a race to comment every time his Facebook fan page status changes. A few weeks ago, Sonko’s fan page posted a picture of his ‘bling bling’ and within a few hours hundreds of comments followed.
His online followers are in the tens of thousands. That Sonko is a democratically elected official despite his past is a testament to the calibre of politics in Kenya today. But Sonko’s perceived political baggage would pale in comparison to others like Maina Njenga, whose militia, Mungiki, was allegedly involved in the 2008 post-election violence in addition to various beheadings and numerous cases of extortion and intimidation of Kenyan citizens. Mr. Njenga currently enjoys the company of elite personalities, including the former head of state, Mr. Moi.
According to Standard newspaper, NARC Kenya was on the receiving end of criticism in parliament from Kenya’s Prime Minister, for having Sonko in the rank and file. Time will tell whether NARC Kenya party leader, Martha Karua, made the smart choice in welcoming Hon. Mbuvi.
Hata kiss na hug sipati
“When are you going to give me grand kids? I’m I going to die before you get children? Honestly! And who are these women who always call, yet I never see them? You need a cellphone. And, you are always out gallivanting with these girls I never see. Are they harlots? What happened to that nice girl from Boston?” asked mother. She doesn’t understand that the dating game is very complicated.
Take, for instance, the story of a good pal whose ex boyfriend accused her of infidelity. The dude in question proceeded to slander her via dedicated Facebook, Myspace and Youtube accounts. He also placed ads on Kijiji and other ad forums – complete with her pictures and details of unconfirmed rumors involving a strange sexually transmitted disease she allegedly gave him as a parting gift. He also called the local immigration office to accuse her of lying on her application.
I would like to believe that my prospects won’t cross the thin line between love and libel if the romance went sour, but it may be a lot to hope for considering my last episode – I recently broke my celibacy vow to fornicate with a local who, afterwards, ‘caught feelings’. These feelings were not exactly mutual. So, when one day I met her beautiful girl friend, I naïvely asked her to ‘hook a brother up’. Needless to say, the story went downhill from there (in hindsight, I probably should have asked Wamathai to write me a poem).
The the cauldron of love potion I was brewing was preëmptively poisoned (my rusty game didn’t help either). The next time I saw her friend, in the words of Matonya, hata kiss na hug sikupata. I will shamefully admit that every so often I will hit the refresh button on my browser when logged into Facebook, in hopes that the chic has sent me an inbox message, lakini wapi!
Maybe I’m chasing waterfalls instead of sticking to rivers, lakes and ponds. There’s the case of Mrs. M, who is my immediate neighbor. She is well into her retirement and spends most of her days tending to her flowers. She likes to spark small talk while I do my squats, curls and bench press reps, shirtless in the back yard. I suspect Mrs. M enjoys our conversations more than I care to know. It doesn’t help that she is friends with the lovely woman across the street who also runs the daycare my nephew attends.
Ms. Daycare is decades younger than Mrs. M. She has a body that any 19-year-old girl would be envious of. I watched her clean her swimming pool during a recent heat wave … my oh my. However, as single, good-looking and available as she is, I mustn’t do anything to make myself the topic of the neighborhood gossip led by Mrs. M. The incident above being case and point.
My dating prospects are hardly encouraged by the fact that most of my women friends swear that I am a whore. I stand accused of ‘borrowing from the library, then returning the merchandise when it’s convenient’. I honestly do not know where they derive these inferences from. Maybe it’s because I’m easy to talk to and they usually confide in me. Okay, I’m also a big flirt who ends up cajoling even those with boyfriends and husbands. But never have I enticed them into selling their virtues short.
So, until I sort out my image problem (and my three-week attention span), I will surely remain a bachelor and a virtual whore. Nevertheless, I am jumping headlong into the dating pool once more.
Now taking applications.
Stateside in June
The Border
My latest experience with US Customs was the best I ever had. I actually got a smile from the guard. God bless America.
The Internet
I did not have web access for almost a week; I was about ready to go mad. Happy belated Canada Day.
Poor Elmo
She was a young black girl – not more than three or four years old. In her hand was a well used Elmo (from Seasame Street). Elmo’s characteristic bright red coat had faded some, presumably from numerous washing machine cycles. His head, no longer able to stay upright, slumped to the side.
“Who is that in your hand?” I asked. She looked up at me with a bright smile.
“It’s Elmo.” Then with a sad smile, her attention was drawn back to Elmo.
“Him went to the club and him got shot.”
East vs West
The west side of Detroit looks like any other American city. Neighborhoods with manicured lawns and clean streets filled with citizens on the hustle. I saw the occasional public transit bus, ice-cream shops, both white and black children playing on the streets – it was beautiful.
The east side is somewhat different. On every major intersection, there are black teenagers peddling water bottles to motorists. All convenient stores are ‘Liquor and Lotto’ stores despite the fact they also sell milk, bread, newspapers and everything else you would expect to find from a kiosk of that kind. Every other building – residential, business, school, church - is either abandoned and boarded up, or abandoned and gutted by a fire. Not one Caucasian in sight.
The Rest
I spent most of my days in the shade reading short stories by American authors. I listened to the likes of (the old) R. Kelly, Mary J. and Joe sing about their pain, broken hearts and love. I sang along to reggae mixes while washing dishes. I played soccer with the nephew on the lawn for hours. I bought boxes of shoes and clothes. I almost forgot my old life.
… and then there was the men’s bikini
Underwear shopping is not supposed to be complicated. The usual process entails no more than ten minutes at the local discount retailer. Like most men, I’m a boxers kind of guy. They are simple, comfortable and usually come in packs of three. Color doesn’t really matter.
I expected my last underwear shopping experience to be business as usual. There I was standing in the underwear isle, debating whether to buy the $7 dollar pack, or the $10 dollar pack. I opted for the cheaper one and threw in a $2 pair of dress socks to make myself feel better. Boy was I in for a surprise.
About a week later, it was time to try on my new boxers. Fresh out of the shower, I went through the regular paces of lotion, antiperspirant, cologne et cetera. But when I opened the pack, there was nothing routine about what I encountered. Staring back at me was a couple men’s bikini underwear!
My first thought should have been to return the merchandise and exchange it for boring boxers. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. I figured, why not try on a pair just to see how it fits. I am ashamed to say that I liked it. It was the first time I ever felt sexy in underwear.
Are you there God?
The last time I wrote a post about religion, The African Accent was on Blogger.com. The Adsense banner flashed a Scientology recruitment message for almost three weeks. I’m still searching for a religion; I went mteja on God a long time ago. This post is about sharing some of my thoughts as I shop for a calling card to dial to the heavens.
I was baptized a Roman Catholic. I even did the alter boy thing. Thankfully, my priest never did try to touch me in my secret garden. In fact, he is still a very good friend of the family. Buda Mike is a martial arts expert; his handshake squeeze usually leaves my palm pale for at least ten minutes. When he is enthusiastic, the grip renders the hand numb. Since I’ve already done the Catholic thing, I want to try something different.
I seriously thought about Islam. I’m just a little wary of the implications it will have on my social life. Let’s face it, if you’ve followed my tweets and the rest of the noise I make online, you probably think I’m some sort of radical activist. Add Islam to that equation and I am very afraid of what those grim faces of the US Customs and Border Protection will do to me. They already make me nervous in my current heathen/gentile/infidel status. Plus, I ain’t about to go on a jihad or fatwa mission for anybody, let alone sober!
Is Kwanzaa even a religion? I looked it up online – they misspelled every damn Swahili word they tried to use. I give Kwanzaarites a fail. I’d rather go back to one of the original African religions; yes, the stuff you non-believers like to call witchcraft. Think about it – they offer love potions, charms, hexes specific to in-laws, even spousal genital locking … which other religion offers that? On the downside, the witchdoctors are usually on a pay-as-you-go plan (charge cards not accepted).
Ever seen a black Hindu? I know of a black Buddhist but not a Hindu. Plus, what a mighty language barrier it would be. Kinda like the time when I attended a Kikuyu prayer service in Toronto. I couldn’t close my eyes while the prayers were ongoing – I was afraid the part where people shake hands would come and I wouldn’t know. I was so nervous. My (beginner level) Kamba did not help one bit.
Judaism isn’t an option. I have nothing against the religion – I am just wary of being treated as second class. Ethiopian Jews have a hard time getting accepted as it is. No, thank you. I admit, I probably don’t know much about Judaism, however, my ignorant observation sense a superiority complex.
I don’t want a religion that claims they are better than the rest.
Scratch out Finger of God, Evangelical Christianity et cetera. I tried in vain to get a Rosetta Stone tape on ‘speaking in tongues’. That leaves Rastafarianism (which some of my relatives equate to devil worship) and Zorastrianism. I am overwhelmed by the number of choices. Can somebody recommend something?
