Arap Sang’s Turmoil and Money Punt-trail

Arap Sang, the little known human being among the now famous Ocampo Six has been, for a while, asking for your assistance, both in material and kind (through prayers or any other worthy spiritual intervention I guess). 

The man, who hails from the Rift Valley and whose practise of journalism in a local radio on the eve and during the last elections and who has been put on focus by Moreno-Ocampo, is courteously asking for a coin or two from your pocket (it should be from sympathisers because those happy to see him there would never think of opening their wallets in aid of his walk in The Hague).

The man says he’s broke enough to make a trip to the International Criminal Court where he was formally invited to sample some Dutch food and pick attractive Orange laurels as the Argentine, m-Ocampo gives him a brief summary on why he was invited. When sampling how the Dutch, whose land hosts one of the most feared courtrooms in the modern world but yet to usher in one of their own, Arap Sang, may want to say hi to Kung-Fu specialist De Jong, the Netherlands footballer who kung-fud one Spanish player, Xabi Alonso, during the early stages of last year’s World Cup Final in South Africa. A chitchat with that player might surely help him avoid being red-carded by The Hague and risking eternal jail the way he (De Jong) escaped a sure red for his Kung-Fu tackle. Let that joke off. Back to serious stuff now. 

The man, who denies any involvement in the massacres that befell the country in the aftermath of the disputed 2007 presidential election, and who is ready to prove his innocence says he’s cash strapped and that his pocket, often oiled by the media house he presents, is thin enough to boost his travelling to the far land. Therefore he’s asking well-wishers for a virtual accompaniment to The Hague by contributing towards his travelling expenses and upkeep.

Haters and lovers must be happy and dumfounded respectively with this fast developing development. First, those who would like to see him being hauled to the ICC and locked there  forever will use this chance to be stingier and let their notes stay coolly intact within their wallets. They may also ask their friends to never let their shilling towards Arap Sang’s Transport To The Hague Trust Fund. His lovers would get the chance to, let say, compete in contributing towards this broke guy. A politician would give sh100, 000, a mere farmer will give sh100, and still a sympathetic teenager may give sh10. After they extend their hands, the politician will definitely ask him to vote for him when he's set free by the court, the mere farmer will tell him to sell his maize to the judges at The Hague and the teenager may tell him to ask the world’s top judges to come up with rulings that will contain the teenage vagaries from affecting him/her.

Such are the hardships Arap Sang, you can add his Christian name Joshua when you are praying for him, is facing. The more he asks for money the more he opens himself to exploitation when he returns, assuming he’s set free. How will he repay the sympathetic politician who paid for his air ticket, what reward will he give those who prayed for him.

Anyhow, let those who wanna give him a financial punt go ahead in honest trail and let those who wanna frown do it justly, but his latest turmoil seems heated than his fiery radio programmes.

University Students Should Wake Up From Rowdy Mentality

This week, the city of Nairobi welcomed back rowdy university students who until this latest stony incursion had been on self-imposed hiatus as far as throwing stones is concerned. When they were away, pundits were enthused about the much peace engulfing Nairobi streets, more so University Way, and even argued that the students could have finally realised what brought them to the higher institution of learning.

When that peace was beginning to noticeably set in, students broke their hell and let eternal fires invade the streets, once again. This time round, their stone throwing hobby was started by a reported killing of their colleague at a club in Westlands. The flaming students had their fires stoked by a revelation that the ones who could have been behind the killing were mere guards whose education extended as far as guard’s school or none at all. This, believably, could not go down well with them: the 'high scholar's, the 'academicians' whose academic walking styles are never directly proportional to their brilliance otherwise they would have known stones are meant to reduce friction on a slippery path or for building but never part of a (mere student's) armoury.

Incensed and thinking everyone was culpable for the murder, the students whose acts could be only described as foolish, bratty, ancient and unschooled went about the streets directing their anger at everyone they met on their way. They flexed their hands, which otherwise could have been beneficially used in writing down dictated notes or perform practical exercises in the labs, and let them smash wind screens of expensive vehicles and destroyed other valuables.  They then opened their mouths, shouted, screamed at everyone in a manner suggesting that they had stored energies which undoubtedly had not been used in asking their lecturers questions or contributing to a constructive class discussion.

Idle students behave that way-the way those UoN students did- and it wouldn’t be strange if those who screamed most never say a word in class let alone asking a question; that’s why they ever have reserved energies to dispense when it comes to the ‘road lecturing to the public’ which normally entails stone throwing and engaging in other silly activities.

Those university students should be reminded of the respect society has for them. Or maybe they should be asked to style up and wake up to the realities of the modern society where things are dealt with in a ‘gentleman’s way’ not in such a brutish manner known only to those misled students.

University students should just let go of this mentality that violence is the sole cure to their anger or that comradeship will forever protect them from facing the consequences of their ill manners. 

There’s Nothing like Obama, Odinga, Ocampo

Before we let the fingers dance on the keyboard, it’s vital to note that these personalities are not related neither do they come from the Lakeside. When sober, they may be forced to relate (by some) because of the similarity of their initial letters ‘O’ in their surnames.

So those politicians arguing that there’s a relationship, albeit, hidden (otherwise all would have seen such a camaraderie), are not only telling us untruths but are also lying to their should-be-clear-conscience. If they insist on such a relationship, then their middle names should be decorated with such words as Ignorance, Ignoramus, or, dis-Ingenuous and such, etc, etc.

Obama, as you read this, is the most powerful president in the world. Being the only man who sits in the White House and cram that only password that is waiting to set off nuclear bombs and being the head of the world’s super power (though it’s ebbing as China takes over) we can only say he's of his own and anyone trying to associate him with other individuals is dishonouring that powerful seat. Let's just say he has no time to lower his character to a level where he’s compared to politicians and advocates from countries lying low in the Economy Index, please excuse him from this association!

Ocampo, and people should learn to respect this guy by calling him by his right name, Moreno-Ocampo, is a top prosecutor whose instincts point him to International War Crimes, crimes against humanity, Post Election Violence, Muammar Gaddafi, Rape, and man-made-tsunami-mass murders-he likes such tsunami-deaths and would not hesitate to come for them uninvited. He comes from Argentina, for starters.

Odinga is the enigmatic Kenyan politician whose only known relationship with Obama is that the latter’s father Barrack Obama Snr was a tribal brother to Odinga. Just that. But some idle fellow has advanced an understanding that by virtue of having such distant bonds, the two could be sharing something, politically. As with Ocampo, there’s nothing known between Odinga and him them unless when the former is saying “don’t be vague, it’s (The) Hague,” or vice versa. You can also say he knows him courtesy of Ocampo’s visit of our national parks last year and had to inform Raila of the nyef nyef (kind of monkeys) he had seen-maybe but such courtesy calls should rarely establish strong friendship, it’s hard.

Even though m-Ocampo and Raila talk like they are ‘eating’ their teeth, Obama pronounces words with comfort thus making them come out sweetly and enjoyable to listen. Moreover, the two (Oc..and Od..) normally let their words flow out of their mouths in speeds only described as high and hence raising their rival’s temperatures. When Raila for example, is busy using parables to kill off his or perceived opponents m-Ocampo is busy threatening that his cases about Kenya would make the world shake because he would deal with them without letting a speck disturb his wide open eyes. When these two are spewing out words, Obama, is juddering in his speech; he often thoughtfully let out words when speaking; a noticeable difference from the other two who often let their tongues flip uncontrollably.

This is how different these guys are!

The O.O.O got nothing that can make them work together politically. So unless it's a new coalition, it would be prudent to let the individuals live like that, individuals. 

May She Rest in Peace...

I’m mourning. Indeed a whole school, the whole village, location is immersed in enormous grief. They are heavy in heart, letting tears roll not because one of their adored politicians is getting incarcerated but because one woman, one lady, one mother, one teacher, and rightly one-everything, who had amazing and appropriate influence on this blogger and many others, has passed on.

Her positive attitude and meticulousness are still prominent in most minds of her pupils. I don’t know of any other person whose dedication has had such a huge influence on their juniors like the way she did. Ask anyone who studied at Cheptalal primary school, Bureti District over the last 20 to 30 years about her and they will not fail to mention her stern but correct disciplinary measures. She did not often use a cane like most of her colleagues but preferred pinching with the help of a BIC/AIM pen. So when a defiant kid grew little horns, she would literally take off her red-ink pen, place it on the roots of the horns-the sharp ‘corners’ in the head-and pinched them off amid motherly rebukes. Once a while, she would pull one, the top among the unruly, place him between her standing legs, then softly smack the boy’s protruding backside until he asked for pardon and swore never to exhibit misplaced headiness. That was her ever stern, steady, and unwavering way to make pupils disciplined. She did not only discipline but taught with higher focus. 

This woman was one in a million. She talked without shiver, guided without stammer, and disciplined with intention. Truly, she leaves a hard to erase inscription in the hearts of those that happily passed through her hands, which invariably stretched and let her index finger point at the equals-to(=) sign separating 2 on the left and 1+ 1 on the right.

She liked calling me by my surname, even after I had that secret part of me sliced off in the jungle, even up to the last time I met her three to five years ago when I was still scurrying books at the university, she did not hesitate but call out that name with purpose and my legs would tremble a bit on hearing her heavy but astute voice. With respect, when I met her I would humbly let my other hand make a temporary triangle, stopping at the elbow, with the right hand as I stretched it to greet her. That was the kind of respect she deserved, she still do, even after leaving this planet.

That was Madam Samary Kenduiywa.