Crazy Nairobian (@CrazyNairobian) is a (old enough to surf and tweet) year old software developer with a great passion for social media. He is also a writer, poet and chicken farmer (seriously ;-P). He loves life and fun. He is also a hopeless romantic [that last part is made up, he claims ].

We had a few questions for him and this is what he had to say.

1. What was your first phone?

Siemens C25, second hand. Third hand actually.

2. What do you prefer? Facebook or Twitter? Why?

Twitter. It is by far more fun to use than Facebook and the crowd is a lot more easy to relate with.

3. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

In a 6-hour marriage to Kim Kardashian (Kidding, but I wouldn’t complain if it happened). I’m currently setting up a number of businesses and I see myself as a establishing quite a formidable business portfolio by then. Fingers and unmentionables crossed of course.

4. Any question for us? (we will publish our answer as well)

Questions on a MONDAY? Seriously? What are you guys high on?

Some premium afghan *cough cough*. You should try it .  

5. What would you do if you were president for a day?

Deport ALL current politicians to a deserted island and revoke their citizenship permanently.

6. Whats your favourite book & movie?

Movie: League of Extra-ordinary gentlemen
Book: The Cathedral, Nelson DeMille

7. Who/What inspired you to do what you do now?

Technology. I love technology and it has always been my driving force.

8. If you were to change jobs, what profession would you get into? Why?

I’d become a creative. That is one of my two alter egos. Computer geek and creative. I have already explored one and would LOVE to explore the other.

9.If you had a superpower, what would it be?

The power to absorb knowledge in any field. Am crazy about information and learning new stuff. My buddies tease me by calling me google.

10. If you were abandoned on a deserted island what 5 things would you want to have?

• A list of the idiots who left me there
• A map of where each of them lived
• A bonoko to place on each of them when they are dead
• Food
• Bucket loads of patience.

11. If you were a car, what car would you like to be? Why?

Audi TT Coupé. The sleekness and speed.

12. If you could be in any band in the world, which one would you like to be in? Why?

Goo Goo Dolls – Am a rock head and they are the reason I became one because of their songs, Name and Iris

13. What does it take to create a popular website?

Useful content or any platform for such content that is easy for anyone to hop into.The internet is called the information super highway because that is what users feed on.

14. Share something interesting you would like to share with our readers

This is the hardest question of all. Interesting is hard. So I guess I will have to go with the one thing that never fails. Don’t do drugs. Try people. They are much better.

Africa Kills Her Sun - A story by Ken Saro-Wiwa
Father Tombana’s Virgin Statue - A story by Linda Musita
Variation On the Word Sleep – A Poem by Margaret Atwood
The Moon Sulks – A Poem by Olouch Madiang
Variations on a Theme - A poem by William Carlos Williams
Lamb to the Slaughter – A short story by Roald Dahl
Or - A Poem By Thomas Sayers Ellis
Politics and the English Language – An essay by George Orwell
Miracle - A story by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Right Kind of Anger – An essay by Sally Kahiu
Two years, three weeks, four days – A story by Wanjeri Gakuru
Title unknown – A story by Noelle
Legalize me - A poem by Adelle
They Stuck A Feather In His Hat… And Poked His Eye – By Michael Onsando
Sex scandal - A story By Ian Arunga
Nairobi Blue - A Story By Ras mengesha
To become better at business, read more…novels – By Sunny Bindra
The Devil Loves Weddings- A story By Douglas waudo
Slippery Slope – A story by Cornellius Okello
What were your top 5 books that you read in 2011? - A TED Conversation

The Future of the Book [Video] - Meet Nelson, Coupland, and Alice — the faces of tomorrow’s book.

I took this photo today at sunset,
At worm’s eye view,
A coin that many Kenyans toil to get,
And work hard to multiply.

Just like the worm, we look up for hope,
And most are the times, the coin goes as fast as it came.
Under the scorching sun, we still want more,
But don’t let the coin make you forget, where you came from.

Today as the sun goes down, turn on a new leaf,
We may not see a lot from where we are,
But we are wealthy from within.
Pause the moment, and enjoy what you already have.

© evans gichomo | blog | twitter |

Sequel to ‘Who You Give it To’

I am extremely excited to write this particular article because it is so, so dear to me. *Wiggling fingers* let’s begin shall we!

In 2011, I had the pleasure and displeasure of meeting a great teacher. He was over six feet tall with a domineering frame, strong presence and a captivating quality in his arrogant speech. I was consumed by his aura and unapologetic ego. He soon became a frequent visitor in my life.

Before I go any further, can I just caution readers that the ‘school of thought’ which will be greatly used as a reference point here, applies only and not limited to persons with a specific condition: Bad Boy Syndrome, which I will refer to as BBS for the remainder of this piece.

BBS, described in my previous article “Who You Give it To”, is an awfully deep rooted state which I think can only be altered and cured with three ingredients: experience, advice and bold decision making. Since I pointed out the WHY of getting into these relationships in “Who You Give it To”, let me say something about the WHAT. Getting into these depriving relationships with Bad Ass Boys (BAB) our main goal as BBS girls is to change the man. Yes, to change the man. Of course this is not something that is at the forefront of your conscience yelling “I ‘m ganna make him mine and I am ganna change him!”No, it is in your sub conscience-that state of mind that makes you automatically reach for the central lock when you turn on your car or makes you flip the bathroom switch when you already know there’s a blackout. You’re extremely attracted to the bad attitude, but you want him to be pleasant only to you. You see the selfishness but you want him to be kind only to you. You want to hold the key to his sentimental side like a magic wand as the world around you marvels at how this man, this alpha,  is weak at your knees.

My teacher, that six foot something, conceited, domineering man said this to me one day, “Men never, ever change. Women change. And it’s only natural because they have to become mothers and nurturers-some gain weight and become elephants. Their focus shifts. But the man never changes, if you married a man who was lazy and unfocused don’t think he will ever become hardworking and directional.”

One night over dinner,  I said to my teacher “That comment you made about women becoming elephants was insensitive “He laughed, “You missed the point I was trying to make. But anyway if she (the potential wife/girlfriend) doesn’t want me to cheat on her, she shouldn’t become an elephant.”

I responded, “And what if she’s just had a baby?!”

“Understood, but I work out every day. Every day. I can’t come home and find you stuffing your face with cake and doing nothing about it.” I couldn’t believe it but his honesty amazed and humored me.

”Look, this is me. I can be an asshole” he continued. In frustration I retorted back “So are you trying to say that you are destined to always make the women in your life miserable?” “No. My ways may still be the same but I am mature and much older now; I know what it means to be a good man. If I love her I will not hurt her. ”

Laughing about this with one of my friends one day, she said to me that she was over the bad boys. She couldn’t imagine herself getting into that cycle again. “Good guys are nice, I’m telling you. You need to get with one and see what I mean” I reminded her that I already had. And 3 months into it I was eager to leave. “No, that was because he was a push over. There are strong bold and confident men out there who are good” she said. I was jealous that about her enlightenment.

5 months later my heart was brutally broken. I was not over, but extremely evasive of BBS. I could not stand it or be near it and it brought a bitter taste in my mouth. My teacher said, “But I told you, men don’t change.”

Let’s be clear. No matter how many times you cook meat for him(recall: ‘Moturi’ viral), remind him that he looks good, kiss him on the cheek in adoration when he says something wildly intelligent in front of his friends, do back flips and forward saults in the bedroom; he will never change because of you. One, I know we have heard this over and over and two, I can bet my salary that you are certain in your mind that you ‘don’t want to change him’. Well, I’m here to tell you that you are. You are in love with the man you hope he will become, not the man he is.

If you believe he didn’t really mean to be hurtful, the Jameson had sunk in anyways, you’re wrong. If you believe that nobody else will love you if you leave, you’re wrong. If you believe that he may soften and maybe even change when he realizes what a great woman you are, you’re dead wrong. Even when he realizes you are that amazing woman, that’s all it will be to him, a realization.

He will change on his own accord, his own clock, on his own effort, when the demons inside of him have settled, when you are far from him and he is in honest pursuit of his beloved; and only then can you be hopeful.

Believe me; I have a black belt in bad boy.

If you are still crying on your pillow, I suggest you exit, cold turkey.

Yeah, I said it!

Peace & Love

Julia Love

An Idyll in Winter - A short story by William Trevor
The Wicker Husband – A short story by Ursula Wills-Jones
She wasn’t kidnapped, she wasn’t dead. She was saved – A short story by GlimpseOfaStory
The Awakening Age – A poem by Ben Okri
Are We Children of a Racist God? – by Ikhide R. Ikheloa
Stick People – A short story by Beth Nduta
Red – A short story by Mike Landweber
Undone – A poem by Bonyo Buogha
Reading The Satanic Verses in Jaipur – By Hari Kunzru
My Lover’s dance – A poem by Connie Mutua
Drifting House – A short story by Krys Lee
Famous Last words – A poem by Richard Higley
Meet me offline – By Stephanie Gergopulos
Quality Street – A short story by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Nowhere in Sight - by Jules Archer

To R.P. Salazar, with Love is an animated short by the Rauch Brothers, is the true story of two strangers who met and fell in love thanks to their nearly identical email addresses. Rachel P. Salazar and Ruben P. Salazar lived halfway around the world from each other when a glitch in everyday electronic communication put them in touch.

Reading Kills – Imagine a world where the simple act of reading turned deadly. An animation by Beto Gomez

Reading Kills from Beto Gomez on Vimeo.

I heard it many times, that as a woman, you end up dating/marrying your father. I’ve always had an opinion about such myths but I held back my sentiments on this one. It was a weird thing to think about-dating my dad ( (shudder) ) and so I thought it was complete rubbish; ‘Cosmo propaganda’ is what I called it.

I was having a deep conversation with a friend about this the other day and she mentioned that some girls, especially those who never grew up with a dad look for men who can completely provide for them in addition to being their lovers. Provide here meaning pay for all their living expenses. ALL. I looked back at the girls who I knew hadn’t grown up with fathers and realised that while this was not entirely true for all their romantic relationships, it was true for all the girls I knew who had such relationships with their men.

As I was walking out of my hotel room that weekend, my attention was grabbed by a guy on his balcony. He was shirtless, smoking a cigarette and having what I guessed to be coffee as he almost insolently signalled with a wave of his hand at the room service to come back later. “That’s definitely the kind of guys I’m attracted to” I thought to myself more or less shamefully. Strong, self absorbed, confident, emotionally unavailable kind of men. “But my father doesn’t smoke off balconies shirtless” I thought remembering the conversation I had had with my friend, “so how is it that I date my ‘father’, please?” My father is a tall, calm, well cultured respectable man. All male, all present in all my life’s achievements, all knowing, all other ways available however…emotionally unavailable!

“Holy Sh*” I had just had a eureka moment.

That was the insight, the deep penetrating truth to the men I picked to be my partners. I was so overwhelmed with this discovery that I stopped dead in my tracks to recollect. I could not believe it.

My father is a great dad. Always has been. Took me to the dentist, replaced all the retainer braces I lost, bought me the coolest roller blades, never missed any big event in my life… However, he’s not the kind of dad who has ever known how to bond with me, if you know what I mean; something I had wanted so much of especially round my teenage years.  As a matter of fact, it is so for many of my friends; male or female. Many African fathers from the Michel Jackson, Al Green, and Marvin Gaye era backwards don’t really have a clue how to connect emotionally with their kids.

Now joining the dots I could see exactly what that  ‘factor X’ was that I used to tell my friends over and over a guy had to have no matter how attractive, for me  to be attracted to him. He could be an introvert or an extrovert, but just the mere fact that he distanced himself emotionally captivated me. That X-factor that I had never labelled had always been “emotionally unavailable.”

Now of course my first question here would be that, does it mean that all sisters in the same family fall for the same kind of guy? No. You seek out from a relationship those things that are important to YOU as an individual for emotional equilibrium and those which you lacked in your father figure.  In other words, instead of looking for the emotionally available guy because your father figure was emotionally unavailable, you look for the exact same thing your father was and try to make what he denied you, Present.

As a huge sceptic of this myth, I am now a full convert. Girls do fall for their fathers; or variants of them.

So, should you now, if you are a girl like me, accept an emotionally available guy and evade all the crap that comes along with the emotionally Unavailable? Or maybe make your father emotionally available instead to change your taste in men?

Figure out your poison.

Yeah, I said it!

Peace and love

Julia Love

(Sequel to ‘Who you give it to’ out next week, ‘Cold Turkey Exit’)

By Jacque Ndinda

One of the things that would make me happy right now is receiving a decorated declaration of love in form of a handwritten letter. I have not received a handwritten letter since high school. There is an intimacy in the handwritten words. An unaltered correlation between the words and the person that wrote.

I am worried that the greatest disease of language is not the XaxaXema conundrum. It is yet to come. And it will be the inability for our kids to learn their own handwriting. In this age of the cell phone, text messaging and printed assignments, who will ever find a need for the pen in coming years? What, with machines that can listen to your voice and type for you without you lifting a finger? Why struggle curving letter B with kids while you can just teach them where to find it on the keyboard?

When we all went to kindergarten, the first thing they taught us was how to write the alphabet. Then came combining these letters to write your own name. There was nothing sweeter than learning how to curve out your name on a piece of paper. I might not have felt it back then but looking at it now, it must have felt really good-a product of my first creativity. Curving a J next to A and not Q! It was personal. After day one, I forgot. I wrote the Q as O. I forgot again. And again until I got it right. Sometimes I would mix the upper case with the lower case, even after being taught for a week. But the struggle was worthwhile. It etched in me something that a computer would never have done.

In class four, we went through it again in Dictation class. I learnt to spell without using the dictionary. I learnt how to make neat notes with my hand. The kid with the best handwriting was given the privileges of writing on the blackboard on behalf of the teacher for others to copy.

Writing by your own hand is more than just curving alphabetical letters on a piece of paper to communicate. It is about the pleasure of putting a signature of you in the words you write, not just by the way you arrange your train of thought but by the way you express them physically on paper. A sense of ownership. A result of your own craftsmanship.

I am afraid that our kids will be handed things so easily that we will deny them a chance for cognitive growth that comes with the handwriting. I have a feeling it will be handing then a gun to their minds, or turning their minds into vestigial organs, unknowingly. Writing is a way of thinking.

The word document is an easy path. I am not saying that we ought to make life difficult for our kids, but would you rather your kid becomes dependant on autocorrect and his ideas are easily arranged, not by his thinking but by a simple right-click? It is too factory-made. Thdey will never learn their flaws. They will have something perfect, but plasticised like a nose job. Eventually what you have are prisoners of autocorrect who do not know how to spell without a machine outside their own brain.

We have all used computers and we know how absentmindedly this happens. First of all, typing is so noisy! In is too interruptive. It denies us a chance to think about what we are writing. There is this disconnect between your thoughts and the things you are writing. Normally, a synchrony between the mind and what you are writing is achieved after a struggle.

But writing by the hand at such an age will hone their minds. When teachers asked us for handwritten apology letters, they did not do it because they like to see us decorate papers with our sorry. It was about thinking about what you were writing. When employers prefer handwritten application letters, it is because that handwriting says a lot about you!

I want my kids to learn their handwriting. It is a part of who they are, and it would be really sad if technology denied them that opportunity.

Her Blog

Her Twitter

Rachel Gichinga has, for the last five years, been working on ways to employ the use of creative approaches in advocacy, civic engagement and development initiatives.

@Raheeli

In 2009 she co-founded Kuweni Serious, an initiative which is focused on getting young, educated Kenyans involved in socio-political initiatives and translating online engagement into offline action.

She is also part of the 2012 class of Acumen Fund East Africa Fellows.

Rachael confesses that she occasionally may be found on the iHub balcony staring into the sunset instead of doing real work.

She lives on coffee, hates cats and she is a proud aunt to Mwendi and godmother to Maya.

We had a few questions for her and this is what she had to say :-

1. What was your first phone?
Wow. It was an Ericsson T10. I thought I was sooooo cool with the mouthpiece flap thing. I also had one of those atrocious Motorolas that had the red light and the oval screen that made them look like they were from outer space. It was good to upgrade to a Nokia 3310.

2. What do you prefer? Facebook or Twitter? Why?
As is the case with most people, it took me a while to get Twitter. Now, though, I completely love it. I find the most interesting information and people there, and it’s truly exciting to see how people are able to engage with the people to whom they’d never otherwise have access. That’s infinitely cool, and it creates all kinds of possibilities. It’s a great way to gauge public sentiment on issues. I’d say the downside of Twitter is that it can dehumanise people – it’s disheartening to see people falling over themselves to come off as witty in the event of death, for example, or just being merciless about subjects no one needs to be merciless about.
Facebook largely exhausts me. It has definite value, but I find the relentless stripping away of privacy a bit much. It’s a stalker’s paradise. Maybe we all just need a third social network: Twitter is for cool people you don’t know in person, Facebook is for acquaintances, and we can join a third network that’s for close friends, one of those networks that doesn’t let you add more than 50-100 people and you can say whatever you want to say and post whatever photos you want to post without first spending an hour tweaking your privacy settings.

3. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
That’s a good question. Still trying to answer it myself. Hopefully alive – I’m incredibly clumsy and absent-minded…I really hope I haven’t fallen off a building by then.

4. Any question for us?
Why this push to get people to pay to attention to art and books and culture?

5. What would you do if you were president for a day?
The exact opposite of every single thing Kenyan presidents currently do,

I would do my job.

6. Whats your favourite book & movie?
Can I say my least favourite book? Anything and everything by Paulo Coelho.
Can I say that? I know I just lost a bunch of actual and potential friends there. It’s hard to pick an all-time favourite, though Arundhati Roy’s “The God of Small Things” is always heartwrenching.

Anything by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Alain de Botton’s “Essays in Love.” A book I recently read that was phenomenal was Teju Cole’s “Open City“. Also loved “The Fire Next Time” by James Baldwin.

Movies: again, difficult to pick a favourite. Anything by the Coen brothers (with Burn After Reading and The Big Lebowski topping that list). Before Sunset, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Revolutionary Road, Chicago.

I miss the 90s teen flicks (Clueless, Save the Last Dance, She’s All That)…that was a winning genre. Viva Riva and From a Whisper were also brilliant African movies, and the Matrix Reloaded was a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.

7. Who/What inspired you to do what you do now?
It’s been a continuous path of discovery, and at every point I get to work with super cool people who inform and inspire my thinking. From my first real job with Eric Wainaina and Sheba Hirst, who taught me that you could take dense, boring ideas and make them beautiful and compelling; to meeting Ory Okolloh, who’s umpteen types of cool and brings in a fascinating way to think about politics and activism; to the Ushahidi/iHub team who’ve redefined “be all you can be” in a Kenyan setting; to the Acumen Fund team and fellow Fellows, who blow my mind with the super smart way they’re rethinking development and social sector work; to the ridiculously silly and hilarious Kuweni Serious family (Mbithi Masya, Jim Chuchu, Njoki Ngumi, and by extension Blinky Bill and Daniel Muli), who defy all forms of convention and have no idea a box even exists, let alone thinking outside of it. I feel incredibly blessed to constantly be inspired and challenged by these wonderful people and more.

8. If you were to change jobs, what profession would you get into? Why?
I wish I could actually create something. Or invent something. Or find something important. Whatever would allow me to do that.

9. If you had a superpower, what would it be?
I’d be Jean Grey from X-Men for sure. Telepathy/telekinesis. I’d also like to have the power to heal sick people. I’d be a cancer-zapper.

10. If you were deserted on an abandoned island what 5 things would you want to have?

• My Kindle (and a direct connection to Amazon + a credit card with no limit)
• Solar chargers
• Not my current laptop, as it is driving me crazy…I’d like a new laptop
• A magical internet connection (unlimited, uninterrupted)
• Cheese

11. If you were a car, what car would you like to be? Why?
A Landrover Defender. Isn’t it just the coolest car in the world?

12. If you could be in any band in the world, which one would you like to be in? Why?

Hmm…I don’t know. I’ve watched Hugh Masekela perform twice now and I’m convinced his band must have some fascinating stories because he seems like a such a fascinating person. Bjork’s band, too, because she’s so clever about making music and experimenting with ideas.

13. Anything interesting you would like to share with our readers?

I don’t walk/sit under ceiling fans because I’m afraid they might decapitate me.

Creative Writing – A short story by Etgar Keret
Lord My Woman Is Talking - A Poem By Olouch Madiang
Weekend Plot – by Amare Poeta
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – A short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Fire and Ice – A Poem by Robert Frost
I wanna Text you up – By Our Kid
London Bridges – A poem By Tolu Ogunlesi
Word On The Street – A Poem by Michael Onsando
Confessions of a masturbating twelfth Man – A short story By Linda Musita
#TwitterAfterDark: Her Story – By Wiselar
Of Underwear & men – By Neemo
The Joy Of Books [Video]

By false reflection, the eyes flicker,
Still as the day ends, my hopes ticker,
By bestial acts, jibes, scoffs and taunts,
With new charisma my ardour flaunts.
I own my world, I am my own master!
For certain, one day the world will be my oyster,
Derailment I’ll greet with a wink
Capture lost moments in ink
Facing toughest ordeals, my heart says shalom
At failures – and wait till the seedling is sown,
Even in sorer; like shores scratched by silent sand,
I’ll wait till I get a sapling in my hand,
Though fears, blot my notions with clauses,
I will pitch my defense, and wait for a round of applause,
I will make it different; fetter the locks of criticism,
For mine is a tiara of happiness; my key is optimism.

© aisha salim

I read somewhere that 25 is the ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ age. I was surprised that this was a shared belief since I recall last year telling my older friends that I felt like I was going through some sorta ‘quarter life crisis or something’; after which we laughed it over of course. But once I saw my ‘doesn’t drink’, ‘never smokes’ guy friend order a cold Tusker halfway through a maturely smoked cigarette, I realized that this really is the most conflicted time of anyone’s life-working your ass off for your big break, trying to move out of home and what not… During what I think was and could still be my quarter life crisis, I was going through some serious motions of ‘Am I on the right path with my job?’ ‘Shouldn’t I be saving my money?’  ‘How long am I going to sit in this drastic relationship-no wait… fling’ ‘Will I regret that decision, or this decision?’ ‘Is this the sole purpose of my existence?’ ‘Will I ever be happy?’ ‘Am I making a mistake by doing this?’ … 2011 really was the most emotionally trying year of my life and I haven’t even hit quarter life yet!

Translate this to relationships and it only gets worse. You see at quarter life as girls we are pretty much done with the trashy relationships of our recent over active late teenage years and we are looking for something with more substance and a longer shelf life. This is the age when we realize that 26 years sounds ‘Old’ and ask whether we have made anything of ourselves as we rapidly approach 30.It’s when suddenly you realize that every year you say “This year has flown by so fast!”. We also start to wonder if we should start to worry about worrying about our biological clocks ticking. Well thank goodness I still think babies will break and die if I hold them and that they smell like regurgitated breast milk. No pun, please. I like babies. Clean, quiet, sleeping ones.

Sitting at a restaurant I overheard 4 girls at the table in front of me talk about how much their love lives had changed (in their mid twenties). One of them, who I thought to be the most intelligent, said that she had never been so lonely in her life. That she could remember a time when her phone was blowing up cuz of all the calls she got from male pursuants. But the moment she decided to have standards and cherry pick the men she chose to date, suddenly, there was no one. Another girl said that she was not going to leave her boyfriend despite the fact that she was bored out of her wits with the guy because she didn’t want to be lonely again. “At least he is a good guy! Remember how Kevo was an asshole. Don’t even think of leaving him,” another girl warned her.

A week later with my friends at a bar, I brought up the topic. The discussion was pretty much similar to that one of the girls’ at the restaurant; we all now know what we want in a man, nobody wants to settle, but given the insufficiency of the ‘one tree hill’ happy endings we yearn for, settling starts to look okay and even more realistic. It is now that we have a picture of what we can and cannot tolerate in a relationship and we recite the pillars of “he’s just not that into you” like it is scripture from the goddess of love herself. This is not by any means a negative thing but it just so happens that once you have standards in the men you pick, scarcity of love is sure to follow.

When you want that pair of heels so badly, you will save for them and you will buy them. We have been taught to GO FOR WHAT WE WANT. When you want love so badly, it’s never there.

In my learning, love was designed NOT to be sought.

Not that my learning was a dignified knowledgeable and intelligent one. Far from it; very far. In fact it was the exact opposite.

But I can tell you this, you are never going to find love if you obsess over it. Never. So don’t, or do, if you can’t help it…in fact if you can’t help it, do it till you can’t stand it. Go through the motion, date the loser again despite having learnt from your past 100 relationships that you shouldn’t, but then stop and seat at your table for one unembarrassed, go for the wedding without a date, buy a you know what and an extra pair of batteries incase it dies on you at 2.ooam, seriously explore the things you are passionate about, think about everything that beautiful sunrises and cozy downpours have to offer you, think about it all and don’t think about Love.

Because here’s the thing about being happy with that person, you have to be happy alone FIRST. In my opinion, that’s the order.

Yeah, I said it!

Peace & Love

Julia Love

Looking at the world through the eyes of a little boy,
I walk through twisted paths of imagination;
Switch power on and walk to Farm Town
With 20 coins; I plowed by field yesterday
With 500 coins; I planted eight fields of potatoes
Tomorrow is harvest day; eight full sacks of potatoes!
I hope the harvest will be worth the mouse clicks!

Looking at the world through the eyes of a little boy,
The playground is empty! Bumps on the leather sofa,
With eyes fixated on Romance for Kids,
I prepare for the siege of Armageddon.
I am a child soldier hunched on the computer console,
With machine guns light to feeble muscles,
I kill with the precision of a homing missile.

Looking at the world through the eyes of a little boy,
I grew so fast! My language is not that of a little kid,
But mature, commanding, and if need be; a little wooing.
I am fat and my skin glistens like anaconda’s coat,
My soles have never tasted the gritty earth,
Nor my toes tussled with the stubborn tree climber,
Ladybird is just another lady in my favorite novel!

Looking at the world through the eyes of a little boy,
The world is a rich haven; there is plenty of food,
Supermarket shelves overflow; tills blush
From lustful glares from sorry customers!
There are no stalks of maize in my world; no hunger
No winding legumes lush in the morning dew
Grumbles, shambles, tumbles – exist only in Nation News.

© richie maccs

By Jacque Ndinda

“Yes, I am categorically certain that it is unequivocally incontrovertible that I recurrently employ gargantuan and multifarious terminology throughout the progression of otherwise ingenuous assertions with the intention of facilitating the manifestation of the opinion that I am of extraordinary and superior astuteness.”

Is my intelligence showing?

I like to use the above sentence I came across while reading about reading. Does it make you want to pull your hair out? I know I am not the only one that has fallen prey to the ploy of big words. There is a way certain people say things, leaving us thinking of how much of intellectuals they must be! He is so smart. Have you seen the way he tweets? Have you read his blog? Do you see the words he uses in there? Such big words! Such a smart person!

I do know that there is a very high relationship between language and intelligence. I however do not know which way to look at it: You are intelligent because you have an excellent command of language or you have an excellent command of language because you are intelligent. The chicken or the egg?

I cannot also be the only one that sees the pressure on the twitter timeline or facebook updates, or even blogs – an attempt by the social media masses to put up a smart act via language use. Here, domicile becomes home and ‘lascivious’ is highly preferred. It is all about making the people reading feel like they are titrating language in a science laboratory. But you know what they say? You can fake an orgasm, but you cannot fake smart. Smart does not come out in a calculated whimper.

Let us make this clear first. The reason why we say things is because we want to communicate. We don’t do it because we want to sound or seem smart. For there to be communication, the message should be coded in a way that even the communicator understands what exactly they are saying and the target audience as well. So what need is there if we have to use Thesaurus while writing or tweeting? What communication is there if we are pushing the reader further away from the message?

I understand that sometimes, there is the element of aesthetics in language. Even our faces do love some make-up sometimes. You want your sentences and your tweets to appear beautiful. But there is this other desire, this desire to use a word where an easy one would have been just okay. Sometimes, especially when Thesaurus is in use, a synonym leaves a sentence meaningless. Some of these words are so awkwardly placed that the sentence itself screams Awkwaaaarrd! A careful reader or listener will also read in between the lines, and in between these lines is a cry for help, a cry of a person who is trying so hard to overcompensate for lack of vocabulary by using big words.

Sometimes, in your pursuit of these big words, you end up sounding like a schooled idiot. A difficult word, even when well fitted in the sentence, will also make you sound pernickety. See what I mean?

Her Blog

Her Twitter

Dan ‘chizi’ Aceda is a Kenyan Singer Songwriter. He has recorded two studio albums Benganology(2010) and Suluwe (2005) and has written songs for many different artists including Kanji Mbugua, Joseph Hellon, Atemi Oyungu amongst others. He has also won two Kisima Awards and been nominated for two others. In 2011, Dan became the first Kenyan musician to perform at the Lake of Stars Festival in Malawi.

Dan Chizi Aceda © Paul Kariuki Munene

You can sample his music here.

1. What was your first phone?

Siemens C35. It was Horrible. (Don’t ask which phone I have now either)
2. What do you prefer? Facebook or Twitter? Why?

I think they offer different things. I use both quite effectively. I am not sentimental about either of them.
3. Where do you see yourself in 5 years

Hopefully I will have played 10,000 gigs! I hope to be on tour as much as possible. Gigs are the reason I get up in the morning.

4. Any question for us? We’ll publish our answer as well

What African songs are you guys playing at your office?

• We ‘re playing Africa In Your Earbuds Volume 4, a mix by DJ Stimulus called “What it Means”. It has some WICKED Fela Kuti mixes, check it out.

5. What would you do if you were president for a day?

I would spend the whole day trying to ensure that I can stay president for a year.

6. What’s your favourite book & movie?

I’m very slow with movies so there will not be any fireworks here. I can’t get enough of the Matrix Trilogy. As for books, I prefer the heady reads. Can’t pick a favorite though I have read Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace close to 50 times.

7. Who/What inspired you to do what you do now?

There are a lot of influences in my life. A lot of people have been very good to me. The biggest influences are my mum and my grandma. They taught me about living life with no fear at all and about self sacrifice for family and loved ones. Besides that, Im just another ordinary chap trying to feed my family.

8. If you were to change jobs, what profession would you get into? Why?

I would very much like to go back to Swahili radio. It’s where I started my career and it would give me a great outlet for the second passion in my life which is Kiswahili. I will one day walk into one of these stations.

9. If you had a superpower, what would it be?

I would like to be able to read minds. Know your enemy (know your friends even more)

10. If you were deserted on an abandoned island what 3 things would you
want to have?

• My bass Guitar
• A bass amp
• 3 toothbrushes

I hear sea water can ruin my teeth!

11. If you were a car, what car would you like to be? Why?

Landrover Defender 110. I never give up.

12. If you could be in any band in the world, which one would you like to be in?

It’s a tie between Jamiroquai and TPOK Jazz.( I know) Though there is also The Wailers, Morgan Heritage, Osibisa, Qitangoma, The Pat Matheny Group, .. (we could be here for a while).

Why? Well I guess it’s always about learning something new. The bands I have named here were/are the very best at their own styles.

13. Share something interesting about yourself with our readers.

I have a secret stash of Shaaban Robert Poems that (sorry, I’m THAT guy)

[Landrover image via The Telegraph]

“Are you sure you did not hurt yourself today?” Koli asked. “You may have overdone the kicks…”

“It’s been six months, Koli. I should know better than that, don’t you think?” She interrupted the cardio kickboxing instructor, picked up her bag and left the gym.

Audrey was right. He was wrong. She had not ‘overdone’ anything. All she did was try to get rid of a mass of anger on her throat. Someone had thrown her under the proverbial bus and she felt the need to save her skull from his barbaric act. Unfortunately, the overextended, “Kiiiick, to the knee, jab, jab and kick, kick, to the knee, jab, jab, jab and kick” had not done a good rescue job. She still felt like someone had  let down a running stomach on her head and the filth was flowing down her face, seeping into her eyes, nose and mouth. Hence the need to get on her scooter and rush before the ceremony started.

She checked the contents of the scooter basket. They were intact. She wore the helmet and rode off to the very odd choice venue.

By the time she got there, the vows had been exchanged. Now, it was kissie-kissie time. The bride was wearing the usual Nairobi bride ‘sleeveless, bare back and unsightly boobies’ dress and her purple lips were puckered and eager. The groom, with his large compound eyes, looked like the Average Kamau  in dress pants, a shirt, a cravat and a waist-coat. She appeared pleased with herself; he looked complacent, like a sick dog.

‘Mwaaaah’ and his lips had purple smudge on them. The Mrs. lovingly licked her thumb and wiped the smudge off his lips, just like a mother does to a child, at the same time licking the lipstick from her teeth.

Audrey, still on the scooter, hidden by three, unnecessarily conjoined flowery pillars watched as they sat on the two chairs set aside for them on the podium. The Reverend stood from his chair and made for the temporary pulpit to serve his marital sermon.

Here lay the problem. She did not anticipate the ludicrous podium. It would not do. She gave the hand grenades in the basket a critical eye, counted the number of possible casualties; she included and realized that the plan of jumping just the two love birds was not feasible…with a podium. First, her arm, strong as it was, couldn’t possibly swing a grenade that far from a scooter. Second she had planned on doing cook offs after pulling the rings. If she did that, the news would read differently. Something like,’ Woman on Scooter blows herself up at an uncharacteristic wedding at the historical Kamkunji Grounds.’

 No, she needed something more specific and extremely tragic for the Mr. and Mrs. It had to be clean and diabolical; worse than bootleg explosives. Something that would merit applause from the damned. It would require close to 47 hours planning but step one had to be climbed by the end of the day. Possibly within the next three hours, in the form of a wedding gift from a good old family friend.

 “Habari yako?”

“Mzuri,” answered the man at the information desk.

“Inspector Kipchuruchuru yupo?”

“Ndiyo, na wewe ni nani?”

“Mtoto wa ndugu yake.”

He leaned forward and looked at her entire frame. Petite, very high burgundy shoes, black fitting skirt suit, black scarf with red and white polka dots and hair that was cut like a little white boy’s hair. Convinced that she was the lady actuary that the boss had ordered he let in, he directed her.

“Ehhh, alisema utakuja. Fanya hivi, nenda kwa yard, utampata. Fuata tu reli mpaka…”

“Najua,” she hurriedly walked towards the platform and turned left onto the track.  She was so excited she nearly chocked on her saliva.

Papa Kipchuruchuru was not her uncle but he was her godfather, so to speak. He was a failed soldier turned train driver. She met him in 1991 when she was seven years old. Back then her parents travelled a lot by rail and they always tagged her along. They quarreled endlessly and bit each others’ ears through the journey. Whenever that happened, Audrey would walk out of the first class train compartment and wander about the train. One time, she bumped onto the knees of a man. He was standing at an angle by a window. Then, he looked like a very important man and she almost walked away but her eyes caught the thumb in his mouth. She stood beside him and sucked her thumb as well. From that day he became the father that she should have had.

Now, twenty years later, he was Regional Locomotive Inspector, leaning on a pole at the yard, staring intently at a pool of oil. As soon as she made him out in the green overalls, she rushed her feet, tears dancing in her eyes. He embraced her and she held on a little longer, then her eagerness took over.

“Did you deliver the gift on Saturday?”

“Yes I did, dressed up like a likely friend of the parents. She called that night. This means you were right. Newly weds always open the envelopes before the honeymoon, probably hoping for some cash.”

“Ehe?” Audrey urged.

“She called to apologize, said that her ‘houseband’ and her already had honeymoon plans and they were leaving yesterday. I coughed and faked an old man’s disease and convinced  her to take this trip first, it’s only for two days. Zapele Islands were too beautiful to reject and from there they could connect to their original destination. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Ehe?”

“The idiot, agreed.”

“Alright we have no time to waste,” she went into the shade and came out five minutes later, maroon overalls, training shoes and a baseball cap.

They walked towards a locomotive, meters away and he tried to get the story.

“Scorn, Papa, scorn. You do understand don’t you?”

He held her hand protectively recalling the day, seventeen years ago, when he walked into a train car and found her naked father trying to penetrate her from behind. Her mother sat there and watched. Three days later a newspaper report read that a highly intoxicated couple had fallen asleep on the rail track in Yala and a train squished them into minced human. Since then she had lived with him and on his army stories, lessons on mechanical engineering and his obsession with physical fitness.

“You never know if you will need it until you need it,” he barked every time she sulked and pouted at his obsession and need to turn her into a female Kipchuruchuru. “Anyway, I may die before you and I have to leave you with something, don’t I?”

Papa Chur and Audrey finally got to the locomotive and went under the car with a tool box and two flashlights between them. Within an hour, they interfered with the braking system, the fuel tank compartments, the breaking system and the over- speed safety device. The sand tanks and sand sprayers were muddled as well. The traction system was going to do exactly what they wanted it to do; get the damn locomotive off the rails.

8pm and the pair were on the platform with their luggage. A few meters away, the lights on two locomotives were on. Her phone rang and the old man told her to leave the luggage on the platform and walk with her husband across three rail tracks. The train would pick them up there and someone else would load their luggage. She asked about the second train. He said that it was an ‘escort train’. She slid her mobile phone into her jeans’ pocket, clapped excitedly and took her ‘houseband’ by the hand. His compound eyes saw more to this sinister arrangement but he did not utter a word. He did as she said and they stood exactly where the old man said they should.

Audrey got on the death locomotive, still in the maroon overalls and cap. Papa Chur got onto the second loco.

“Remember to pull the notches like I showed you…and to get the hell out immediately I reach out my hand.”

“Alright,” Audrey affirmed.

Her locomotive was running light but Papa’s was towing two loaded freight cars. She got the knife switch and soon enough the eight wheels were moving. She looked to her left and Papa Chur was driving simultaneously. A minute later he signed at her to accelerate.

The new wife clapped some more. The ‘houseband’ shifted on his feet.

The locomotive rushed. Papa Chur held out his hand and Audrey balanced her feet at the cab’s door. She stretched until his fingers firmly clasped her wrist. All she had learned at the kickboxing class came to play here. The co-ordination, balance, flexibility and strength to lunge forward and into Papa’s arms, just as traction failed the loco – now on the last notch- and the purple lips let out an almost demonic scream.

The old man sat on his armchair, watching the morning news on television.

He smiled and called Audrey, “You should have watched the news.”

“Hey Papa, I have to work you know. I am sure they will do a recap tonight. And the suitcases?”

“Just about to torch them, “he ended the call.

© linda musita

© Mutua Matheka

Hay brown insignia of summer in savannah
On a prided sunny warm day a bath
Beneath the white curtains of Victoria Falls
Relaxing bath
One of the world’s seven wonders our pride

On the feet of Vumba Mountains we would walk
Pride Zimbabwe
Behind my home stead lies Antelope Park
Whose lions and lioness roaring soulfully time after time
On the stone Highveld lands, wild Flame lilies
Beautifies the African lands
Zebras, warthogs, elephant, buffalo
All nibble on the sultry pampas

Broad shaded umbrella trees
Offers sanctuary to the rest needy living thing
Giraffes barrow their necks in the clear White water
Mayhem with the brutes
Cheetahs rules the wild without kind

Smile again at Africa, upon the clear blue skies
You pleasure, dance and dine
For thus what Africa provides for the eye and the soul
To please at holidays you are home
To create ever lasting Memories
Africa smile at you arrival
Welcome to my Africa
Whose mud huts enshroud you in secretive comfort
Under the arms of our god- (anamwari) you are safe

alfred tembo

For a piece I thought I would come to write with as much ease as the thought crosses my mind, ‘The One’ has proved to be a difficult article to construct. Either this subject is too wide and vast to grasp a point upon which to begin discussion, or it has just left me blank. Ironic really.

Because I was experiencing some sort of writer’s block with this one (despite my urging desire to write about it) I bought a romance novel. Nothing too erotic – a Nicholas Sparks, you know… the guy who wrote ‘The Notebook’? A perfect read for the Christmas trip. Easy, I thought, since I am a sucker for romance and it would be perfect for inspiration. Half way through it on boxing day, I dropped the book. Couldn’t stand it. I don’t know why.

And so I had a couple of friends answer a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question for me: “Do you believe in THE ONE?”I asked them to give me the first answer that popped into their minds. I got 26 responses: 17 said YES, 8 said NO, 1 was inconclusive. Of the 26, 10 were men, and 16 ladies. Of the 8 who said NO, 4 were men and 6 were ladies. I wouldn’t want to break down the gender of the YES group, although what surprised me off my seat was that this group had a huge male following! And most of these candidates, I would have sworn by my life would have been in the NO camp. Fascinating! Conclusively, a lot of people out there do believe in ‘The One’.

In Paulo Coelho’s “Brida”, the main character in the book in pursuit of her soul mate through learning of the spirit and magical world is taught that each individual on earth is an incarnation of someone in her past and each individual has a soul mate. This soul and her significant other were once ONE soul many incarnations before. The soul was split into two causing each half of this soul in his or her present life to be in constant pursuit of the other half of their soul; their soul mate. It also went something like, if you purposefully refuse to recognize your soul mate in your current incarnation and he crosses your path, this results to absolute pain, grief and agonizing misery in another incarnation. I’m half way through the book.

Let’s cut to the chase. I’m avoiding it … but I must indulge. The One, a.k.a The one for me, is your soul mate. That one guy(or girl) that makes your heart beat in breathless pleasures when he smiles across the room, and not even at you. The one person, who makes you spontaneously happy just by being in their presence, makes life’s hardships bearable, makes the unachievable achievable, puts you first before himself in a first-nature kind of way… All this, by one person. The idea that ONE person holds the key to your ultimate happiness (and big honeymoon and beautiful kids) is both scary as hell and extremely  captivating.

Of the 8 married and unmarried couples I talked to before writing this, none told me that they truly, frankly & honestly felt that they were with their soul mates. Staggering! “Why are you with them then?”I asked, ‘’I love them” they would respond. So you can truly love someone who is not your soul mate? Granted. We’v all fallen in and out of love.  But does this mean then that I could find true pure and honest love with someone who isn’t my soul mate only to figure out two babies and a credit debt crisis later that he is not my soul mate? Holy Shit.

See, I don’t know of even one married couple that has been together for more than 10 years who are still happy. And who am I, or you, to think that you are the exception to this fact? That you will be the one lucky girl to find your soul mate. And if you can truly fall in love with anyone, how do you know that you have found The One? ‘Brida’ says that you will see a point of light above their left shoulder- that is your soul mate. Someone else also once said “when ya know, ya know”.

Did God really lift a rib off my Adam and place it in me for my Adam to come looking for me? Do soul mates REALLY exist? If yes, where is this magical man and who the hell manages the clock as to when I get to meet him? If they don’t exist, WHY IS EVERYBODY LOOKING! Even the cynics in their nonchalance indirectly and in some way search or wait to be found.

If you are a girl or guy like me in pursuit of happiness, health and wealth, then you have asked yourself these questions.

Love, just like its counterparts Life, God, Death, et cetera is one of the most sought after truths since the beginning of man’s recording of history. Few answers, many questions, more doubts.

And my answer is YES. I do believe in The One. 99 percent of the time.

Yeah, I said it!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Peace & Love

Julia Love

By Jacque Ndinda

There is this thing people do more often than other things. They talk a lot. I for instance am eating of the same piece of cake I am just about to preach against. There is just too much talking around, too many words to listen to. Speaking junkies! But not much doing being done.

I will use a writer as my punching bag here, because a twitter might subtweet me, and I might die. People tell us that the pen is mightier than the sword…and that a word spoken or written can be the medium of change. I agree. I have never underestimated the power of a word.

But I have wondered about the role that our writers play as far as change is concerned- change being the only thing that Africa as a society is yearning for. Is word on a piece of paper enough to bring a revolution or is there something more that can be done beyond the writing desks? Becoming a little more participatory in activism beyond just our political and socio-economic commentaries on a piece of paper or a blog?

I remember late last year, Chinua Achebe refused to receive an award accorded to him by President Jonathan Goodluck. Chinua Achebe did not want to receive an award from a man who was thrusting his country deep into sewers of crisis.  Now that is very commendable. To refuse to eat from the same table with the wolves. I respect that. Most people however felt that Achebe was being a little dramatic on this. To refuse is not enough-they said.

Then I remember talking to a friend from Nigeria earlier in the week, concerning the #OccupyNigeria situation. I was raining praises on two writers I have known via twitter- telling them that I am proud of the activism their countrymen have put forth, and they themselves- through writing and tweeting about it in the most creative way possible.  This friend of mine said something that made me stop and think – He said “they too need to come off their safe haven and get their hands dirty on the street”. He wanted something beyond just the tweets and the verbose pieces of writing on the Guardian and The New Yorker. He wanted them to join the citizenry in protest- on the street instead of just speaking to the world about it.

It got me thinking of the writers of our time- the Binyavanga Wainainas and the Ngugi wa Thiongos that speak with so much irrevocability about Africa, an Africa they do not live in.  It also made me think of myself, about the tweets I send out and blogposts I write like this. It is something yes-sharing with the world. But sharing is not enough. Sometimes it becomes a hiding place- a breeding place for opinion that sometimes does more havoc than good.

How many times have we hidden behind this ‘unparticipatorily’ activism of words? It is like the world becomes a television set, and after watching the drama, we will retreat back into our safe haven and churn paragraphs after paragraphs of commentaries. We will then sell it out to the world and say – hey, I am fighting in solidarity with you through my words, through my music. Then we will sit back and learn more words, stock more and more verbatism for better commentary on the next calamity. It is clean activism. No one gets dirt on their hands, maybe the ripple effects from our commentaries, but we try as much as possible to stay off the street.

I am not taking writers or twitters on a guilt trip, or blaming them for the fine things that they might have written or tweeted.  I am just wondering what is beyond the tweets and the pieces of writing. Everyone is saying something. But is anyone listening? So now? And then? After we say things?

Welcome back to WriteThinking

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01 Jun 1963, Nairobi, Kenya --- 6/1/1963-Nairobi, Kenya- Waving his "wisk" the newly-elected Premier of Kenya, Jomo Kenyatta, (R, foreground), greeted throngs of cheering citizens as he rode through the streets of Nairobi. Accompanying Kenyatta are Tom Mboya, (L), Minister of Justice and Constitutional Affairs; A. Oginga Odinga, Minister for Home Affairs; and James S. Gichuru, Minister for Finance. The motorcade was part of the National Holiday celebrations which marked the start of internal self-government for the African nation. --- Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

The masses were dazzled
The illumination too much to bear
And the scarlet haze on the sun was gone
In washed a clear tide as the bloodied one ebbed away
A lazy wind trudged by, heavily laden with child
A child named Future.
The land trembled from down under
As our ancestors reveled in our libations
Our fathers removed and up threw their hats
Not in deference to a rude passing white boy
But buoyed by the hope within their broken hearts
Up flew our mothers’ kanga in ululation
Not in a haste to get a way from the horny Johnnies
But driven by the tingling joy within their hurting hearts
Down came tumbling the jack that hijacked our land
As our colours flapped in the wind like uncaged birds
When dusk came, we slept drunk from the cup of hope…

But alas! When the rosy fingers of dawn came,
Our shackles were back and above us stood not the empire
We shut our eyes hoping the surreal dream would fly away like an evil wind
Still our the shackles tightened and our horrors multiplied
But not to risk the curse of the shed blood
We dared not wish for the Johnnies return
And for five decades we have lived in this dream
Hoping that one day our minds will have mercy and unbind us
For we are now dazed not because of the hope but hunger pangs
And a heavy barren wind wobbles by shrieking
A mother who lost unborn already named Future
The earth still trembles from down under
For our ancestors yearn for our libations
Our fathers now throw their hats not in joy but desperation
Our mothers throw their kangas in pain for a murdered child…
This sick rattle of these new but old shackles
Reminds me of an empty word; independence.

(for all those who lost their lives and were denied their independence)

© chrispus kimaru

BONK is a Kenyan clothing company, famous for its T-shirts, Bags, and Accessories. All products are designed and produced in Kenya, by a relatively sozzled bunch of Kenyan friends. When not designing tees, they’ll usually be found in their lab experimenting with the next cure for the common hangover.

@MastabOИK

BONK has grown to be one of Kenya’s most successful original brands, and offers both Kenyan and international markets with truly world-class merchandise.Their popular t-shirt designs feature collections that are culturally relevant, including retro Kenyan prints, beautiful hand-drawn illustrations, witty designs, and limited edition prints honouring Africa’s heroes.

We had a few questions for them and this is what they had to say :-

1. What was your first phone?
A call box.

2. What do you prefer? Facebook or Twitter? Why?
Twitter – it reminds us of telegrams.

3. Where do you see yourself in 5 years
Stuck on an island regretting the 5 things I took with me.

4. Any question for us? We’ll publish our answer as well
What are gyroscopic forces?

• According to Wolfram Alpha, these are forces having the characteristics of a gyroscope.  The word “gyroscopic”, the site adds,  has a scrabble score of 20.

5. What would you do if you were president for a day?
One day? Only one day? Probably take a stroll around State House in my pajamas.

6. Whats your favourite book & movie?
Book: Big Blue Book of Needlework
Movie: Big Blue Book of Needlework – The Movie

7. What inspired you to do what you do now?
A need to give warmth to Kenyans, in the form of awesome t-shirts.

8. If you were to change jobs, what profession would you get into? Why?
Medical marijuana tester – it’s important that patients get only the finest for their treatment.

9. If you had a superpower, what would it be?
Superfast potato peeling.

10. If you were deserted on an abandoned island what 5 things would you want to have?

• Socks
• Pacman
• Panadol
• Peanuts
• A red tractor.

11. If you were a car, what car would you like to be? Why?
A Datsun. Because it’s a Datsun.

12. If you could be in any band in the world, which one would you like to be in? Why?
I can’t sing. I can’t dance. I can’t play an instrument. If  Just-a-band would let me sweep around their studio, I’d join them.

13. Share something interesting about yourself with our readers.
I fell off the bed this morning. It hurt. I think I’ll take a short break from hangover research.

Terryanne Chebet is a Business Anchor at CCTV News, the English language international channel at China Central Television. She was until recently an Associate Editor & Business News Anchor at Citizen Television. Her role at Citizen TV was to create a strategy for the business desk in a fast changing media environment, as they continue to deliver an unrivalled business package.

She reports and anchors business news, covering business stories from across the African Continent, interviewing Business leaders, policy makers & CEO’s.

@TerryanneChebet

She has vast experience in reporting, scriptwriting, anchoring, producing & directing TV shows, having been recently nominated in two awards, Continentally; Diageo Africa Business Reporting Awards & the  Kalasha Awards, Both for Best TV productions.

She is also an MC, a speaker on African Business and Social media matters and is an active social media player, with an active blog, and over 16,000 followers on twitter.

My first phone was an Alcatel easy touch. Bought it in 2003. It could call and text. I didn’t remove the plastic film on the face for about one week. Mad excitement!

Twitter. It’s the greatest invention for journalists after the typewriter; it brings the world and its movers to your handset. So much info in such a short time, virtually meeting amazing people. I got to interview President Paul Kagame through links on twitter. I find Facebook  to be too intimate, its like a going home for christmas and catching up with friends you haven’t seen in years, so like Christmas, I’m not there too often.

I’m a dreamer- where I am today I wouldn’t have imagined it 5 years ago. but wherever life takes me, I hope I’ll be in a happy place, and hopefully inspire more young women to focus on business reporting.

It’s an intense world where you get to meet and greet the worlds most successful people. If not for career growth, the least it can do for you is to get your monies and money knowledge in order: get organised, invest, save, plan ahead. It rubs off on you when you know how successful people get there. Its all about discipline, persistence, hard work and being a dreamer also helps.

On the home front   My daughter will be 10 years old then, so maybe another addition or 3 to the brood;-)

Would you have your future told by a soothsayer?

• No, but we would tell the soothsayer his future, no cash from us!

I would make sure everyone has 3 well balanced meals for the day, and that kids have toys to play and books to read. I would also entrench policies that ensure food security. I would get mass rail in order and make it cheaper  and safer for travel.

My favourite book:  ”The coldest winter ever” by Sistah Souljah, couldn’t put it down, I’m now reading the sequel, ‘Midnight’. I’m terrible with movies, I hardly do big screen. Avatar was my second last.  but Sin City and most recently Viva Riva are the winners in my books.

I always admired newsmen and women, but I didn’t give it much thought. I wanted to be a producer and film maker. But on the news reading front, Tony Msalame discovered me:-) while I had a stint on metro fm as a dawn news reader. David Makali was among the first people who encouraged me to pursue it. Wachira Waruru hired me as a news anchor at KBC in 2004.

I’m lucky to have people who believed in me when I was pretty young, and have guided me through it.

I would be a home maker, embrace Proverbs 31 and have a restaurant that sells flowers.

I’d turn into a speck of something that would spend its days between Richard Branson’s board meetings and his limousine. I admire him immensely.

• My Blackberry
• Body butter
• Water
• A good book
• Idris Elba

Buggatti Veyron. Some cars are supposed to be driven off the ground. This one’s one of them. But hey, I dream!

I’d be a back up singer in Dan Chizi Aceda’s team. I play his (autographed) CD on the school run and drive to work every morning. My daughter sings along too

Before I ever did live TV on CNBC Africa, BBC’s Peter Ndoro told me ” If you know you should do something, but are worried about how its going to turn out, are anxious, or just scared, then you must do it. I live by that rule.  I also make the best chicken in the world and I can’t live in a house that has white walls.
That’s it!

Think that our Kenyan artistes are all talk and no trousers? Think again, Kama, one third of the legendary hip hop group Kalamashaka gave a talk to students from University of San Francisco on topics from the Mau Mau to how the arts are helping improve perceptions about Africa abroad.The rapper was in the US for the Silicon Valley African Film Festival and together with Michael Wanguhu, director of hip hop documentary “Ni Wakati”, gave a presentation to the Political Science class of the University of San Francisco.The students, along with their adjunct professor, Davey D, viewed “Angalia Saa”, a video by Ukoo Flani, after which Kama, who features in the video, gave a talk.

“A lively discussion ensued with the audience getting involved, and one of the topics discussed was how the revolutionary group Mau Mau influenced the civil rights movements in the States in the early 60s.”
Now before you think he is just a busy body, if you have listened to Kama rap, you would know he is very passionate about honouring the people who fought for our freedom and those who still champion their cause like Ngugi wa Thiong’o and the late Wangari Maathai.

Kama also addressed the poor image of Africa hawked by the Western media saying that, luckily, that image is being shattered through the arts.

“Through the arts, Africa has taken ownership of its image and has shown its strength and ability to recover from the low expectations set by the Western world. The ghettos of Africa have shown remarkable resilience and despite a lack of resources and poor infrastructure, they have produced remarkable talents.”

Four Kenyan short films were awarded at the event. Ekwa Msangi-Omari won the Emerging Filmmaker Award for his film “Taharuki”, “Gatumia Gatumia” bagged the Award for Achievement in Animation Film and “Ni Wakati” received Honorable Mention for Achievement in Documentary Film. Zipporah Nyaruri also received Honorable Mention for achievement in narrative film – short length for her “Zebu and the Photo Fish”.

Reposted with permission. This post was first published on izvipi.com.

Ramzzy describes himself as the Sanguine Son of the The Big City,A Student of Logic, Champion of sarcasm, Free Thinker and a Creative.

1. What was your first phone?

Siemens A36.

2. What do you prefer? Facebook or Twitter? Why?

Twitter. You get everything out of it if you follow the right tweeps. I laugh, keep track of the latest fashion trends, Read Bible/Quran
verses and the news on one page.

3. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

5 years from now i see myself owning a Graphic design company. My
ambitions and creative freedom would eventually draw me towards
earning from something i can call My own.

4. Any question for us? (we will publish our answer as well)

I’m just Human. Who are you perfect guys and how many of you exist?

• Nobody’s perfect

5. What would you do if you were president for a day?

If i was the Baks for a day I’d ask the Treasury to calculate the
total amount of unclaimed assets and give every poor Kenyan 3K for the
December Holidays. Not much you can do with 24 hours apart from spread
smiles.

6. Whats your favourite book & movie?

Apart from comic books, I’m not much of a reader. Though i like “I
shall not be Moved” by Maya Angelou. I write poetry when am saturated
with reason. My favorite movie is Braveheart. I’d die for what i believe in too. Mel Gibson was Amazing.

7. Who/What inspired you to do what you do now?

My talent for the most part. I couldn’t run away from art.

8. If you were to change jobs, what profession would you get into? Why?

Too late for that bit. I started out as a Techie. Dropped out of
school and switched to Graphic Design. I’m at peace with myself now
even though I’m still a student. I did what i had to.

9. If you had a superpower, what would it be?

If i had a superpower I’d be a mutant who absorbs the energy of my
anything around me and channels it towards something positive. I don’t
believe I’m better, just different… And Wise. hehe

10. If you were deserted on an abandoned island what 5 things would you want to have?

-God’s Grace
-A Pen-Knife
-A jacket
-A water bottle
-My Sanity

11. If you were a car, what car would you like to be? Why?

A Subaru- All wheel driven, Fast, fun, edgy, Urban, worth every penny.

12. If you could be in any band in the world, which one would you like to be in? Why?

Cold Play. Their Music cuts across Social, Economic and Racial
barriers. It’s reflective, honest, vulnerable, timeless and relevant.
I would to be part of that inspiration they give.

13. Share something interesting you would like to share with our readers

We live in a time where in Public people frown at things they do,
say or think in secret. It’s easier now to be a Cartographer than it
is to be yourself. What have you done in your family that hasn’t been
done before? What are you doing differently in society that makes you
stand out? You can’t become anything great if you can’t answer those 2
simple questions. Oh, i hate Pre-judgment but welcome judgment. The
latter is for people who know you. The former is for everyone who
guesses. I talk a lot but i won’t answer any questions related to this
Q&A on the Timeline.

We wish you all a very happy holiday season and a blessed and prosperous 2012!

See you in the New Year!

Take care & God bless.