Death!

Death! The very name strikes fear in our mortal hearts. It is a 'known unknown'. We all know death is going to come for us but we know not how or when. Its funny how we all expect it; a guest we prepare to host and entertain from the time we let out our first wail in a maternity delivery room. But lo! The shock, horror and self pity when the Grim reaper comes knocking. Such power. Such dread.
I look closely beyond the pain and grief and see a certain beauty and grace. Deep down the Grim reaper's heart I figure there is a soft spot filled with love and tenderness! Buried beneath the blood, bowels and gore in an accident scene. Hidden music in the ring of a flat line of a terminal patient and death's sweet scent that mingles with the smell of disinfectant in an ICU.
The reaper has around him an air of peace that cushions the terror of his presence. All we have to do is look and surrender ourselves to his hypnotic yet majestic charisma.  To die... To sleep... To sleep, perchance to dream.
There is beauty even in death. Most of us just choose to ignore it, focusing more on the pain, loss and grief thus leading miserable unfulfilling lives as a consequence.

Stand-Up Crap.

Humor is the spice of life. It is what makes human interaction bearable. Humor makes life's worst tragedies bearable and helps us survive through tough times.
This sanctity has been desecrated and modern humor has degenerated into something ridiculous. These days we have stand-up comedians and their humor is dry, dreary and boring.
I have tried giving it fair treatment, subjecting myself to hours and hours of horse manure but stand-up comedy is just the worst.
All these guys do is observe and identify themselves as belonging to a particular social group mostly ethnic or religious and use their understanding of the functionality of said group to make the intellectually inert laugh. A loud irritating laugh that is as a result of the person next to you laughing and having nothing to do with the joke. This attempted humor is blunt, painful and numbing to the brain.
The understanding of the subtlety of humor is non existent these days. Modern humor embodied by stand-up comedians is crude, shallow and uncreative. If you enjoy stand-up comedy, well you have a problem. But hey! That's my opinion.
I think that for humor to be funny it should be refined, satirical, ironic and deep. It should be open to different interpretations. Each person should see his or her absurdities reflected in the joke. Humor should be society laughing at its own reflection in the mirror and not some regurgitated bullshit about some social,characteristics that are observable by all.
So if you're a stand-up comedian or if you do enjoy such hopeless humor... Get a life!

The Down and Out

There has been a stupid slogan doing the rounds saying that you only live once. So if you live in the northern hemisphere you take a flight to Africa and take pictures of mating giraffes and while you're at it buy a few bracelets from a Masai woman whose brains are boiling from sitting under the scorching African sun for 12 hours and get a sadistic pleasure from hearing her thank you in a language you don't understand. While her kids are running around in some remote village hungry, half naked and covered in dust. If you're lucky you get to snap a few photos of said Massais standing outside their manyattas with poverty stricken faces. Lifes good. All the while you keep thinking what a blessing it is that you weren't born in such a miserable country. What you forget is that life back home is hard too for some people, who sleep under bridges and eat beans out of a can. I'm not against tourism, or spending your hard earned money. I'm just saying out loud what nobody dares to say.
The world is fucked up. No one gives a rats ass about the people who live in poverty. NGOs you say? They're a sham as far as I'm concerned. With their well worded Vision statements written by some phony guy with a fancy degree from Harvard earning an eight figure salary, who has no clue what its like to go for two weeks without food, or walk barefoot for twenty miles for a gallon of water from a muddy pond. These organizations thrive on the misery and squalor of the masses. Any attempt to help the less fortunate, on their part is hypocritical. If the world got better, our Harvard guy would be out of a job. He delays that for as long as he can, while maintaining a philanthropic self image.
Here's an interesting fact. If you have $10  in your bank account you're richer than 75% of the world. Makes you feel good right? More than half the people in the world live on less than a dollar a day. In total poverty. The elite don't give a shit. They are busy playing golf, polo or some other weird sport. Coming up with new ways to squeeze out the life out of all of us while sipping 150 year old liquor in their palatial homes or eating expensive dinners in five star hotels not concerned about the starving waiter who works 17 hours a day serving them or their equally hungry chauffeurs.
Next comes the bourgeoisie. The so called intellectuals. They are nothing but stupid, cabbage headed morons plagued by chronic consumerism. Zombified by an education system that turns them  to programmed consumers. They work hard in jobs they hate so they can buy shit they don't need. Who cares about AIDS or climate change or the fact that families are starving in Lodwar or a drone strike that killed innocent people in some village in Pakistan?... You only live once. The things they are concerned about are their DSTV packages with 250 channels, football matches in far away countries, expensive colognes for the fat pigs they call wives, Viagra, magazines, a fancy school for their kids and some guys name on their underwear. They buy things they don't need with money they don't have to impress people they don't like. They are luxuries, but pathetic sorts of luxuries.And the things they own end up owning them. They make good money and side with the rich because they think, in their own esteemed logic, that any economic freedom granted to the poor is a threat to their own liberty and well being.
All the while the poor are slaving their asses off trying to make a living in a cruel society, with religious dogma being shoved down their throats. Teaching them patience, perseverance and giving them false hope of a world beyond, while this one is being stolen from them. Urging them to look forward to a heaven after death while the rich are living in heaven right here and now.
Picture this. A starving 57 year old man works his donkey all day for a living carrying luggage. Energy is derived from eighty percent whip and twenty percent food. And the neck of the donkey suffers from large sores, but the poor animal works on dragging tons on bare flesh. It can still go on, thinks this miserable hungry old man, and he cracks his whip. The donkey gets whipped till the pain behind is more than the pain in front. The man and his donkey share the same fate. Both are victims to a cruel economic system. Poverty is not bad luck. Its an elaborate strategy used by the elite to maintain the status quo.  Marcus Cato once said that, a slave should be working when he is not sleeping. It doesn't matter whether his work is needed or not.
George Orwell had a theory why this is, he called it 'Fear of the mob'.  The mob would be dangerous if they had any leisure. Its better to keep them too occupied to think. If the rich would be honest to the question of economic freedom to the poor they'd say:
'Poverty is hell. But do not expect us to do anything about it. We are sorry that you're poor, but we feel safer if you remain the way you are and we can't afford the risks of emancipating you. Since you must slave to pay for our trips to exotic destinations, slave on... And to hell with you.'
Such is the way of the world. I guess the rich will get richer and the poor... Well, they'll get children! As Chaucer wrote 'O scathful harm, condition of poverte!'

Poignant

The sky, dark and gray,
The sun, subdued at last, heads westward in dismay,
Unable to cheer this day with a single ray,
The air, damp and foggy,
The earth, wet and slithery,
So still.
No breeze upsets the trees,
And the always frolicking birds,
Lie in their boughs heavy winged, cold and dull,
Such a beautiful day,
Melancholy and poignant,
 Reflects the colors of my erroneous soul,
And thaws my frozen spirit,
Raising it to a haughtiness that knows no limit.

D. T. Moi.

Daniel Toroitich arap Moi turned ninety yesterday. A great milestone in the life of a great man. He is a man whose life has been greatly influential and imperative in the Kenyan political scene. Of all the politicians in this country of ours, he is the only one whom I respect. He was known as the professor of politics, a title he earned by his great and infamous political deeds. After the death of Jomo Kenyatta he became the president for ninety days and liked it. And he sat on that seat for 24 years regardless of all the hitches he faced all along. One of the best traits about Moi is that in his political career, he was no hypocrite. He was corrupt and vicious and the whole world knew it. He was also kind and primary school kids knew that 'maziwa ni ya Nyayo'. He also filled the police force with individuals from his tribe. A deed that became the gist of comedians as they satirized the police using their comical accent.
Moi's presence was felt by all his subjects. From the farmer in a remote village listening to his Shortwave radio to the bodyguards who walked around him. Everybody knew who was in charge. His portrait was everywhere, the countrys' currency, shops and every single public office, had his own Nyayo philosophy and a phrase in the scout's loyalty pledge. He even had a whole day(October 10) named after him.
Moi played political chess in an era when everyone played checkers. He was an assistant to the first president, a senior to the former(Mwai Kibaki) and a mentor to the current. In 2002 when he chose Uhuru Kenyatta as his successor many people did not give it a second thought. Well, his choice is now the president and whether we like it or not Moi's political relevance will be around for a long long time. For many more decades to come, Kenyan politicians will remain eclipsed in Mr. Moi's shadow.
He is Kenya's very own Julius Ceasar. Happy birthday Moi. May you live for many more happy years.