Kalenjin community is not far from committing a heinous mistake that will come to, and forever haunt them. This would possibly begin no later than after the 4th August referendum.
The top engineers of this unfortunate fate are the current largely assumed leader of Kalenjin William Ruto, former President Moi, whose legacy speak little than what he’s animatedly saying now of the proposed constitution, and the heavily unknown Samuel Phogisio- he who oversaw the gagging of the media immediately after the disputed 2007 general election- among other self-elected lieutenants traversing the vast region.
These leaders are hell-bent on misleading the widely known ferocious-especially on land matters- ethnic grouping in rejecting the hugely progressive proposed constitution. And they seem to have succeeded in doing this considering the information collected by pollsters pertaining expected voting trends at the referendum.
It seems to be a huge achievement for them now but in essence they are readying their names so they can be among those thrown into the abyss for isolating, the not so outgoing and poor ethnic entity, from the rest of the country when Kenya’s history is reflected back 50 years from now.
When a single tribe rudely rejects a document stamp-okayed by other 41 tribes, then it conveys its eccentric cockiness which will in the long run chart its (the tribe) painful downfall.
What is more tragic and every Kalenjin planning to vote No should know is doing so invites profound isolation which might take a millennium to be cleansed from. This would happen either way. If the proposed draft passes, all but none will always mark out Kalenjins as the group which tried but failed to stop Kenyans from getting a new set of rules.
Such is not a position to be just wished away. Resources, as in almost the whole of Africa, are distributed largely based on levels of loyalties by those in power-Moi for example, is well documented to have perfectly done this- and therefore they would always be the last group to receive the very least piece of the national cake.
If they succeed in their quest to reject the 41-tribe backed document then the same fate awaits them too. Though, on this, they will be the good scapegoat to every coming president. They will be vilified for being the huge wall which stopped Kenyans from getting a non-colonial allied constitution. They will always be seen as the resurrected black sheep of the family. And furthermore, pushed aside in nation building!
By the way...
*When Kalenjin history is written, don’t put me among those who heartily campaigned against the proposed constitution. It will be a big mistake because I decided long time ago to be on the right side of history by voting for it next week Wednesday. Hope you have done so too.
* The two leading television stations in the country, KTN and NTV, should declare who they are serving as far as campaigns on the proposed constitution is concerned. The former is fond of fronting NO campaigns and lengthening it in their news than Yes campaigns which come last and in a fraction of a second. Moi is given like a whole section of the campaign news! The later, is seemingly excited about Yes campaigns and grants it long periods while No noise making comes last in a fraction of a clip.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Some Women Are Just Poor Tutors
Evidence is there for all to confirm. It’s abundant.
It’s a beautiful day at Multimedia University. The cold breeze, largely present in this place, slowly stroke our faces and our lungs received it without complains- it’s the fresh air, often essential after inhaling, in continuity, exhaust excretions from mostly diesel-powered jalopies in the city.
Class time. And we are psyched up for learning what we were told it was gonna make us the next big thing in the broadcast media- the Robert Nagilas and Lilian Mulis of the industry.
Such talks attracted my mind towards this showbiz profession I have always considered a worthy loud-talk to a monthly salary. Don’t u think so? Or emptying one’s throat in front of a camera.
Ms Mwania, I’ll use her one name for purposes of secrecy, was the one to whet our appetite in achieving this dream. I had closed this door long time ago but as I was told an intelligent man is always open to new things.
It was not going to be a nice try. I knew this.
Mwania entered and before I could take the next breathe to waft my dry lungs, she asked about five questions in rapid succession-all related to shooting pictures and a camera-rookie like me could only stare at her; dumfounded and lost. She did this after bragging out her otherwise cold CV.
In my mwania-inflicted lost status, my mind decided to take a stroll backwards to some other not-so-friendly encounters with other female tutors I have met since my mum taught me in nursery school. If you don’t mind I never attended any kindergarten, lucky are they who did.
Anyhow. High school. And you don’t have to be told of my poor English. That high- class madam, Ms Nuguti, was a no nonsense woman. She taught me English for the all time I was in high school. The high-octane female being came to class at her own time and those who cared to question her got not less than 100 words of rebuke all downloaded in few seconds. Her tiny skirts exposing her, you know, attracted my colleagues’ eyes. They generously squeezed them on her exposé. In response, she would not hesitate but whack their backs without care or better still implant lots of pure insults on the teenager’s minds.
The madam, who once dared God to strip her of life before her septuagenarian years, used the same lethal tongue to dare us report her laziness to the school’s principal. Nobody ever did, I’m sorry. I though passed fairly in her subject.
In came Ms Munoko at the university. She lectured Communication Skills to me. If you mind my poor communication skills, I would not mind extending the phone call to her. She would be in a better position to respond. The short-woman, you could easily mistake for a school girl, was not fond of jokes.
The 'lecturess' dictated notes at an electric pace. “You don’t call a married woman in the middle of the night and expect her to pick,” she rebuked some hot-blooded first years who tried to test their calling manners on her.
Ms Moseti kind of taught me some Information Technology in second and fourth year of university. This is one tutor, whose emotions would only rival Usain Bolt’s pace in 100m running. I never saw her smile and if you asked me her teeth colour, I’ll request another question. I escaped Sups (short for supplementary exams) but most of my colleagues drank them at will. She didn’t care though and employed the same rude skills throughout.
Lastly, to put records straight, I’m not a male chauvinist but experience has taught me this!
By the way...
•To those Facebookers who are gender insensitive. It’s unacceptable and awkward to respond to one person’s comment (often of opposite sex) and leave other comments. If you choose to respond then do it to all comments.
It’s a beautiful day at Multimedia University. The cold breeze, largely present in this place, slowly stroke our faces and our lungs received it without complains- it’s the fresh air, often essential after inhaling, in continuity, exhaust excretions from mostly diesel-powered jalopies in the city.
Class time. And we are psyched up for learning what we were told it was gonna make us the next big thing in the broadcast media- the Robert Nagilas and Lilian Mulis of the industry.
Such talks attracted my mind towards this showbiz profession I have always considered a worthy loud-talk to a monthly salary. Don’t u think so? Or emptying one’s throat in front of a camera.
Ms Mwania, I’ll use her one name for purposes of secrecy, was the one to whet our appetite in achieving this dream. I had closed this door long time ago but as I was told an intelligent man is always open to new things.
It was not going to be a nice try. I knew this.
Mwania entered and before I could take the next breathe to waft my dry lungs, she asked about five questions in rapid succession-all related to shooting pictures and a camera-rookie like me could only stare at her; dumfounded and lost. She did this after bragging out her otherwise cold CV.
In my mwania-inflicted lost status, my mind decided to take a stroll backwards to some other not-so-friendly encounters with other female tutors I have met since my mum taught me in nursery school. If you don’t mind I never attended any kindergarten, lucky are they who did.
Anyhow. High school. And you don’t have to be told of my poor English. That high- class madam, Ms Nuguti, was a no nonsense woman. She taught me English for the all time I was in high school. The high-octane female being came to class at her own time and those who cared to question her got not less than 100 words of rebuke all downloaded in few seconds. Her tiny skirts exposing her, you know, attracted my colleagues’ eyes. They generously squeezed them on her exposé. In response, she would not hesitate but whack their backs without care or better still implant lots of pure insults on the teenager’s minds.
The madam, who once dared God to strip her of life before her septuagenarian years, used the same lethal tongue to dare us report her laziness to the school’s principal. Nobody ever did, I’m sorry. I though passed fairly in her subject.
In came Ms Munoko at the university. She lectured Communication Skills to me. If you mind my poor communication skills, I would not mind extending the phone call to her. She would be in a better position to respond. The short-woman, you could easily mistake for a school girl, was not fond of jokes.
The 'lecturess' dictated notes at an electric pace. “You don’t call a married woman in the middle of the night and expect her to pick,” she rebuked some hot-blooded first years who tried to test their calling manners on her.
Ms Moseti kind of taught me some Information Technology in second and fourth year of university. This is one tutor, whose emotions would only rival Usain Bolt’s pace in 100m running. I never saw her smile and if you asked me her teeth colour, I’ll request another question. I escaped Sups (short for supplementary exams) but most of my colleagues drank them at will. She didn’t care though and employed the same rude skills throughout.
Lastly, to put records straight, I’m not a male chauvinist but experience has taught me this!
By the way...
•To those Facebookers who are gender insensitive. It’s unacceptable and awkward to respond to one person’s comment (often of opposite sex) and leave other comments. If you choose to respond then do it to all comments.
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