CHOICES HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

I once did a blog on my Cry for Kiaritha my dear village. Here is the link: http://kaberemartin.blogspot.com/2015/01/i-choose-to-cry-for-kiaritha-my-lovely.html Some months down the line, my sentiments are well proven here.

Before the 2013 elections, I visited my village and engaged a number of youth on how they were planning to vote. To my frustration, the conversation broke my heart since none of them had his or her priority right in terms of the variables they were to consider in choosing who to vote  for. Any attempt to try to enlighten a good number of them bore no fruits as most of them were just drunk or were just not interested in making any decision contrary what they had already settled for.  Let me share a quick analysis of my findings.

The man who was vying for the gubernatorial seat was by then very alien to the residents of my village but now that one of the front men in his campaign team was a vocal man from my village, he had already convinced them to vote for Ndathi, a man that none knew anything about.  Come elections time, he got the votes now that he was also running in the Party whose big man was Kamwana. In short, for Kamwana’s sake, we sold our county to the lowest bidder for lack of a better word. 

For the senatorial seat, we had a TNA man who had failed to do anything much as the area Mp but because of our dire desire to give Kamwana the much needed fire power, we had to reward the former high School teacher if not principal with a senatorial seat. Anyone who was not running via the TNA ticket despite being more promising that these failed politicians stood no chance. Two years down the line, the man has done nothing tangible for Kirinyaga County but we can do nothing much. Come 2017, I can bet that if he aligns himself well, we will crown his failed stint as a senator with another term in office and then the same old story of biting our fingers vowing not to re elect him will continue being sung for another five years.

The reasons justifying  the choice of our Mp beyond being a TNA man too was simply laughable. He only needed to perfect in what he does best to date. Call for masses to arrange themselves in groups of tens and then each group is given a thousand shillings note and thats it. Talk of someone else apart from Engineer Joseph Gitari and you may lose all teeth as the young men from my area who just need a mere sixty bob to be totally drunk are ever ready to lose their lives in defense of the *Generous* member of parliament. Some years down the line, he pops up in villages, burials and other areas just to cement his culture of *giving* in preparation of the icing of the cake come 2017. Do not be surprised if he ends up getting a higher seat as a reward for his *generosity*.

The most surprising line of argument was that of the reasons behind the viability of the then Member of County assembly contestant popularly known as  Kabanya. If I got it right, he was taunted to be a young hustler who was to be given the TNA ticket so that he can *rear* himself. This was justified by the fact that other well to do guys had failed my village folk despite their well oiled bank accounts since they still stole hence at least if a hustler stole and looted the county coffers, they were ready to put up with him. This line of thinking was just an outdated one but any attempt to correct it met an equal measure of justification. Fast forward 2015, I heard that the young man is rarely seen and the first thing he did was to relocate from hustlers’ environments to an area where Mheshimiwa can afford a nice meal, a nice house and other goodies that comes with such a position.

How about the youth rep? I rememember  George Kagori as a school mate at Kerugoya Boys High school. He was some classes ahead of me hence I remember him bullying me simply because I failed to share with him a pawpaw that mummie had just brought me in one of the fine Saturdays. I still bear a mark on my thigh where he pierced me with a knife. Anything more than this, I must admit that I have not done a lot of homework on his modus operandi but I have seen some few selfies of him representing the youth agenda abroad and in other areas. Pheeeeew, bet I need to do more on this!!!!

The fruits of the above blunders can be seen today judging by the situation in our Local hospitals, our roads, health centers that were hurriedly constructed to bait voters to vote for them and other failed sectors in the county. Locals are just paying the cost of making political choices based on their throats for the young men and wazees, market women on the dust coats and kumi kumi ideology. Waking up to the case of guys planting bananas in the middle of the roads now that they resemble shambas is no surprise to me but a confirmation of how cheap we are when it comes to making decisions about the present and the future too.

Here is a sample of the rants: From Willie wa UTQ’s wall

https://www.facebook.com/wilson.utq/media_set?set=a.10204429421684353.1073741841.1495593552&type=1&pnref=story 

Desperate moments call for desperate actions

Willie Wa Utq  Said

People have planted bananas on the miringa iri road kirinyaga county due to the fact that so much money has been spent on the road yet nothing long lasting. Many vehicles have been stuck along that road in the past few days

Liloh Wangui Said

I love the demonstrators....kudos to them,they should do that more often but peacefully

Victoria Tylan Said

Barabara imekua shamba...its time

Cate Kinjo Said

Kudos kerugoya pple these guys have taken our silence n peaceful nature for granted sasa wakiunda hiyo barabara nitakuwa naenda gichagi more often bila kuogopa Gari yangu kukuama I always call my mum tukutane town coz I can't drive to miringa two

Alice Wambui said

 And it worked I tell you. In hours not days. These leaders, must it come to this? I thank these people leo sikukwama

Nancy Wanja Said

Nakwambia waliweka jam haijawai onekana keru tafadhali serikali saidia iko mbaya kabisa.

Any attempt to engage those using the social networks, case of Kirinyaga County Facebook group    https://www.facebook.com/groups/50756601582/  gives no hope as political sycophants quickly starts hurling insults to those they disagree with hence the whole discussion quickly loses meaning and any sober man just withdraws hoping that one day one time, all will be well. Meanwhile the question, begs, Can the youth be trusted as the game changers in Kenyan politics? We have the numbers but we lack sobriety!!!!!  Pheeeeewwww!!!!!

This is simply reaping the  fruits of our labor. Am surprised that some one from this area is surprised and worried of the outcome of our political decisions. This is lack of sincerity if am asked. Can something good come out from our leaders?

MEN AND VEHICLES. WHY THIS STRONG BOND?

What is this special relationship between men and vehicles ?

As I look back in my humble village, Kiaritha, I grew up in a set up where the most treasured mode of commuting was walking from one point to the other. Boarding a matatu happened only when it was very necessary and the distance to be covered dictated so. Either way, few were blessed to own bicycles but no one would dare ‘touch’ these bicycles without permission lest things backfired on him/her. The bike was a treasure, owned by very few! My dad was favored to own one called Momo and on Sunday afternoons, he would give it to Zach who would train us on how to ride. This was always a look forward I tell you. A more privileged lot owned motor cycles but these were very few. Owning a motor cycle was just not a usual thing. This meant that owning a motor car was next to impossible! Either way, very, very few had vehicles and that meant once they were passing by the roadside, we would get out and cheer like we were watching Ferrari in Abudhabi . Cars were just not heard of in a very wide area. This made me desire to one day own a vehicle and break this village curse!

Immediately after I graduated from Gsu Training School in 2005, I went for my annual leave which was a moment to ‘shine’ now that I was among the first from my immediate village to join the general service Unit after a long wait. I realized that to boost my ‘image’ more, I needed to upgrade to also not walk from one point but to cruise around  using a personal four wheeled thing to hence I started to scout for an affordable machine.  In this case, I fast settled for a Mini Moris whose owner was Dan a mechanic by profession. Later, after a long wait that took me about two years, I went back to the same guy and persuaded him that he needed to repair his then grounded Mini Moris and sell it to me. I was even ready to advance him some amount just to ensure that this thing was repaired and would just crawl from the garage for road test. I was and still I am a fan of the old school machines hence public noise in case I acquired this thing would not be a bother, moreover, my uncle who once lived abroad and was lecturing at the University of Nairobi used to drive around the city in a Volkswagen beetle.

One sad thing was that I was scouting for a vehicle but was not in possession of a driving, neither did I know how to drive hence I called on a cousin on mine by the name Tony to help me drive this thing from the village to Nairobi so that I would also be cruising in my Morris like the other buddies. Plans were underway to import an engine and a mechanic from Kariobangi who was a Mini Morris specialist was the Lead advisor doubled up as a consultant too. When we got at Dan’s garage, my cousin called me some steps back and warned me that my decision was ill advised and that thing would be a total headache if I bought it. I gave in to his advice not because I was convinced but because I could not drive as I was even ready to tow it to Nairobi so as to stand and be counted as an owner of motor vehicle. I remember one day, a friend of mine by the name Vivian telling me that if I bought a Beatle, she would not dare even accept a lift from me! I thought she was too hard on me but my love for the beetle never fizzled out. Will still own one sometime in the future, the old model to be specific…

Fast forward, 2015 is here. We no longer do a lot of bicycles. Young boys and girls have been left to in the arena especially in the urban areas but we also got grownups cycling just to enjoy themselves, for fitness but also for commuting per se.  We got motor cycles now. A gift from our Chinku brothers from another continent. 

They have turned to be very popular in the village but also in the towns as they have been used and are still being used to ferry us from one point to other at a friendly fee. Ladies have been the greatest customers as they rarely walk very much, may be to avoid dirtying their feet. (This is my personal view, crucify me not for this, we got a new constitution!)We got a new breed of men doing crazy rides especially over the weekend  and will do this with their sports bikes that cause a lot of fanfare especially along Thika road super highway. We got a lower version of men who do bikes but not out of fun but a means to earn a living. Young men have abandoned studies in the village to be employed in the Okada business. 

 Many have also turned to their customers for benefits beyond the cash they pay. I once heard some say that they only enjoy ferrying women as they pay well, are reliable and loyal! I read mischief in their talk but could not get into the debate as the more they talked, the more I heard them share of how they romp in maize fields with some of these customers especially the ones whose husbands migrated to the drinking dens and no longer fulfill their conjugal obligations as expected of them.

That aside, we got the motor vehicles. I bet our society takes an owner of a motor vehicle to be a successful man or woman. Almost every one dreams that one day he/she will own a car. This however needs to be re looked at and may be was the reason why I was so much interested in buying one at that tender age. There are several classes of motor vehicle owners and I will limit myself to private motor vehicles and may be those in the Matatu industry at a glance. We got the rich and affluent owners who are able to buy any type of vehicles, fuel and maintain them with ease and even are chauffeured from one point to the other.  Owning a vehicle to them is not a financial burden; their ‘headache’ may be constant upgrading so as not to be out done by their peers in terms of owning the latest models. This must be surely a happy lot.

 

I will skip others in this class and straight go to the second class that is interesting to look at. They are in constant debt as most log books are still safely kept in the banks as they are purchased through car loans or they are servicing a loan that was used to buy the vehicles they own. These will be seen driving from the first day of the month but as we get mid month, the numbers reduce drastically as the cars are left in the parking lots and their owners return to where they belong, using public means of transport. Saying this can be termed as hate speech as they will say that their cars are their choices as they decide when to drive them and when not to do so. I question this justification though. This is a class that would better live in a rented apartment or house but will spend a million plus shillings to buy a vehicle. Rarely will they think of buying plots even in the outskirts of the city, build there and may be drive in the later years. This is very un fashionable as they would appear backward in front of their peers but may be as a justification, our priorities are different. 

Young ladies and gentlemen will take a car loan and not give a mortgage a glance! These will be seen jamming the roads will learner stickers and accompanied by heavy reggae, rock of other types of music that characterize their lifestyles. Ladies will be seen driving Volkswagen Golfs and Polos whereas men prefer Subarus. Most of these are often parked next to drinking dens if not joints in the estates and will at times double up as lodgings for the obvious! Most will be police station customers on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights and if not very lucky, they are towed to the same Police stations after a drinking spree gone wrong and if the owners are lucky enough, they are left hospitalized for a considerable duration of time. Subaru owners are good culprits of these happenings may be because they rarely know home at high speeds as the slogan goes.

Lastly, there is another class who own vehicles that rarely leave their parking lots not because they do not have fuel but because the mechanic failed to turn up as agreed as he has been angered by the owners in ability to buy the required spare part leave alone paying for it’s fixing. This is a class that owns vehicles that require constant pushing in the morning, that one will often here the fuel attendant ask of kawaida, that is fuel for Ksh 200 Maximum, will always have a towing rope in the boot, on top of the dash board exists spanner number twelve, a very reliable partner of these owners, whose doors rarely open from inside, that rarely have a serviceable spare wheel and so many other funny characteristics.

These are owners that are very often asking passer by people to help them push the vehicles from the middle of the road as they ran out of fuel and will later jump out holding a five litre jerry can hoping to the nearest petrol station. They later open the bonnet and using their mouths will inject fuel to the ‘Kafuraitor’ to  help the car supply the fuel to the necessary areas and they often appear drunk not because of a morning visit to the local but because of constant inhaling if not ‘drinking’ petrol. The love that these men show for these vehicles is second to none, the bond so strong and the attachment so strong too. These owners are always hopeful that the vehicle will one day grow up and manage a whole week running without breaking down.

The wives to these owners are a frustrated lot! All the love that they once enjoyed was snatched from them by these junks leave alone emptying the family bank account without any signs of improvement. Kids can be sent from school for fees, will  stay home for days but these machines cannot spent a night in the bush after the usual breakdown as the owners can use any other means to raise rescue cash but not cash to send kids back to school. These things if well audited have consumed a whole family fortune bit by bit, have led to family break ups and also have made men slaves! Many school fees joing accounts are no longer operational as the man can no longer be trusted especially after marrying a Datsun 1200, a Datsun 120Y, a Mahindra jeep and other classic oldies. 

A casual walk in estates occupied by most civil servants reveals much of what am saying. There are so many stalled Ex Gks, Ex Un, Ex Kenya Power, Ex Army, Ex Posta and Ex Jirani laying there in sad states. Rotting and creating ugly scenes but dare say so and you may end up losing a whole set of teeth as the owners see nothing like what you may be seeing if you are blessed enough to see the misery there in.  The owners are usually in the false hope that one day, they will grow up and at least craw from the parking lots. The most shocking thing is that some own more than one but none of these is mobile and incase another is on sale, someone will still take a loan, buy it and tow it to the parking lot, start watering it with hope that it will germinate one day, grow and bear fruits and he is counted to be in procession of three log books!

My constant pity goes to an interesting lot that buy old Psv Matatus that barely make a trip without breaking down, the tires busting or being arrested and detained by our ‘Friendly’ traffic cops. These have worn out tires, are always in the welder’s park, the driver has several phone numbers so as to call the mechanic once their valuable services are needed but that lastly end up hanging on four stones, the owners are left servicing loans and if not very lucky are left taking stress management pills if not classes. This is all in an effort to be counted as a motor vehicle owner. Sure enough, the biggest percentage of these are men but a good number of women are often found in the mix.

My question is, is there a motor vehicle curse or are most people’s priorities wrong? Well I appreciate that most people have been able to make money from the Ex Gks, Salvage Insurance auctioned vehicles and other have graduated from the last class above to owning serviceable vehicles but the numbers may not be very significant compared to those whose families have been shattered by emergence of second wives namely junks. A joke goes around that if a man has not been able to convince a woman to render him her ears, he only needs to stand next to a motor vehicle and behave in a manner likely to suggest that he is the owner and things immediately fall into place faster than expected. Whether that it true or not, I leave it to you! 

I have observed that once most of my male friends bought their vehicles, women officially became passengers with benefits and slowly forgot their wives and children and married alcohol. I guess am jealous...? Right...?

FATHER, JUST TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME, THAT IS ALL I WANT FROM YOU.

I LOVE YOU SON / DAUGHTER

 Is it a taboo for fathers to tell their children that they love them verbally? 

Has your dad ever told you that he loves you verbally either as you face him or via the phone?

Have you ever called him and told him that you love him and what did he say in response..?

I decided to dare do the same. I have frequently called my dad who I love so much and told him that I love him. So far so good, he has never told me that he loves me! From his tone, I guess he smiles, blushes* and only ends up telling me thank you. He won’t tell me that he loves me even if I tell him that I love him. He simply smiles and says thank you every time I hit the ‘TRY AGAIN’ button. This does not mean that I doubt his love for me but the question begs, is it a taboo to say so or is it un African or is the past to blame for this predicament?

Let me take a flash back on how I and most of my friends that I visited or who I have shared time with in the past have described this man. The father, the Lion, the King of the Jungle. Kiaritha is my lovely village, a place that I treasure. Guess it may be more or less a replica of what most rural set ups are like or were like for those who have either gotten better or worse. Being born and growing up in this part of the nation must have been a divine plan. Hatched by my maker even before I was formed in my mum’s womb. For this divine plan to be a reality, He also went ahead and prepared mum and dad and to me more real, my mother and father. For the nine months, I must have been just an expectation but later I became a reality. My maker decided that my manger would be divinely placed in Mathari Hospital in Nyeri and after that I be ferried back to Kiaritha Village where I would unfold my puny hands in readiness to grab both the blessings and the troubles of this world.

Looking back, my research shows that men of that time were brought up to believe that they were like  lions and once they roared, all animals in the jungle should have  realized that the King of the Jungle was around and must be prepared for the worst. 

I guess they were fashioned to roar when hungry and cause fracas after feeding. This could and can be explained by the fact that they demanded for absolutely everything despite the fact that much of what they asked for was not their provision but the mere fact that they were lions*, they had unrestricted rights to everything.

Most women, my mum included were supposed to do all the donkey work in coffee plantations, maize fields and other farm related activities up to harvesting but had almost no say when it was time to sell and enjoy the fruits of their labor. When coffee was sold and time to get paid was on, the lions could collect all the dues and use them without consulting their wives. The little children who were also involved in ‘Child labor’ were also victims of these kind of fathers. Some drunk it all, married a second or third wife while others had side hustles,  ‘mipango ya kando’ whereas others could not explain how this money ‘evaporated’ from pay table before ‘arriving’ home to those  who helped make it. Mothers had no right to ask either as this would attract several blows….(For women (wives), I here that in some cultures, if not beaten often, it means that they are not loved!  An archaic school of thought I believe…

This ‘roaring’ was extended to cows too as the feeding was done by Mothers and children, Milking by fathers…(For accountability purpose…….),and delivering it to households and dairies was done by children, mothers or fathers but the delivery card had to be cross checked after delivery to ensure that the bottles ‘never broke’ along the way and the product spilled on the ground….(Guess tree top bottled were the unit of measure by then….) Any accidental spilling of the milk would attract punitive measures that would include thorough canning and a night without food accompanied by a trip to school without breakfast and lunch too…..All this was a fathers way to discipline a kid that ‘he loves’ and a mothers that he ;loves too…..In many families, tea without milk was the order of the morning s the milk was hardly enough to sell and make some tea in house. Love, the hard way I tell you….

Back in the house, there was a special seat that no one would dare sit on when the Lion was around. There was also a special plate, kettle, mug, corner and other privileges given to the King of the jungle. All of these were all treated with fear as no one would dare violate them. They were automatic and there was no debate about it. No one had the guts to tamper with them and question their validity, not even the lioness. The mandate of the lioness ended with child bearing. There was also that special bike that was the common mode of transport. No one dared to touch it lest the fury of the lion be released at will. This was the life.

One would rarely see the fathers during parents’ meetings in schools as Lionesses were the most dominant here. May be because the cubs were as foolish as them hence had to shoulder the burden of curing the disease called foolishness whose hospital was a place called school. Here, there were other lions namely the headmaster and the deputy where the deputy was the in charge of discipline. He canned, abused and punished without mercy. Seeing him from a distance also resulted to one scattering for his or her safety both in school and even when out of school. He was a ‘respected’ man, not a feared one!

Back home again, most mothers were not supposed to engage in formal employment as this would be a sign that the lion is not in control and mother in law, (from the fathers side  of course) was supposed to be vigilant so as to early enough detect any sign of ‘growing horns’ exhibited by the mothers and immediately would recommend punitive measures that would include a second wife as the control gear. Matters were made worse if children born out of these marriages were only female and no sign of males but the worst case scenario was when there were no children brought forth. The mother in law, the chief justice to be precise would immediately shop for a replacement and recommend to the son. The unproductive partner would either be reduced to a laughing stock and most times sent away for her inability to bring forth children. A fathers/husbands way of expressing love I bet….

Still at home, kids could not ask for anything from the lion without asking the intermediary, the lioness to intervene as this would violate the chain of command.  Once the petition is presented, the lion often said that there was nothing to offer and this was not to be questioned but later would give but at it’s own time and in a measure that it deemed right. The foolish* cubs belonged to their mothers until the foolishness was fully extracted from them in a hospital called school. This was evident when the exam results evidently proved that the Lion’s genes were the dominant ones as passing exams and going to the university was a prestigious thing. No one would speak before a lion whose cub had performed well in exams as this was an outright sign that it was as wise as the Lion…(Forget not that the lion was rarely involved in matters education…. Fear, dictatorship, and commanding were the obvious styles of ruling and this was taken as normal. Women were treated just like their children and basically has to survive in such a set up. The Kiaritha way of expressing love…..

The word Love was a very scarce one that only surfaced when matters boyfriends and girl friends were discussed and this was not to be heard by the parents especially the lion. This could have been a taboo that went beyond not being practiced leave alone being mentioned. Mothers may have expressed the same through actions but not via the word of mouth. Rarely did I hear a mother or a father tell the children that they love them.  All I may have heard was a ‘good night son’ from my mum, may be a synonym for ’I love you, sleep well’ by the standards of the time and in my village to be precise.

My challenge is, pick your phone, call your father tell him that you love him and wait for a similar response. Go to your kids tonight, look straight into their eyes and tell them that you love them if you  have not be telling them. But before this, what is the meaning of ‘I LOVE YOU?’…..

God Commands us to love. Some may argue that actions speak louder than words whereas others may say that love is blind and dumb.

 Onward: