I had a beautiful ride to Karen the other day.
When you are new in a city as expansive as Nairobi, sometimes you learn a few things the hard way. A friend asked me to visit her in the Karen area. Well, since we hadn't seen each other for long I said I'd be glad to. She asked me if I knew how to get to that side of town and I said Of course I did. But since I wasn't sure I could drive there, I decided I'd catch a Number 24.
That was a mistake.
Turns out Number 24 goes out on a major excursion. When I told one of those dudes who hangs at the door as the bus cruises along where I would get off, he looked at me strangely, then asked, "Why did you take a 24?"
"Won't it take me to Karen?" I asked.
"Yes, but you should have gone through Langata."
Deng!
So I was in for a longer ride than I planned. And it didn't help that just fifteen minutes into the ride my friend started calling...wondering why it was taking so long. "Is it the rains?" she demanded.
I said, "Nope."
"Then what's the matter?"
The matter was...I was in the wrong bus, but being there made me see something that completely messed up the rest of my evening. As our bus came to a stop at one of those places where they empty folks and fill up, I saw a bevvy of excited school kids ready to jump in and head home. And by then it had started drizzling. I looked into the bus and could tell that there wasn't enough room for all of them. Was I going to have to get out of the bus to let in two more?
Man, imagine my surprise when the bus stopped, let out two passengers, then started off without the kids. Not a single one. Instead of the kids, the dude who hangs at the door allowed in two women and a hefty man! To my further dismay, nobody in the bus seemed to mind this sorry picture.
I rushed to the dude who hangs at the door and asked him to stop the bus. "The kids," I said.
"Wachana nao."
Leave the kids?
I couldn't take this. I told him to let four kids in and I'd pay the adult rate for them. To my sweet surprise, other parents in the bus took a child each and before long our bus was filled with happy children heading home to their parents and to do their homework.
In spite of the touching ending of that drama, I was left with many questions on my mind. How can it be that we would let parents ride home ahead of their children? I understand the right of the matatus to maximize profits, but are those profits worth our telling the young, helpless Kenyans that we don't give a damn about them? Can we treat the kids like they don't matter and still wonder why they turn out so angry and disillusioned in this society?
Someone needs to act, to work out a policy that forces the matatus to take the children home ahead of their parents. Until then, my fellow Kenyans, if you are in a matatu and a child is about to be left behind because he/she won't pay as an adult, step in and pay for that child.
Take the kids home first, dammit!
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Of Poisoned Pyramid Wealth and Drug Money
Our mad rush to join the wealthy class has crashed head on with core values of humanity. The rich are using their corruptly acquired wealth even to impoverish more Kenyans. A look at victims of the pyramid schemes will disabuse you of the imagination that only the less-informed and villagers are vulnerable.
Despite the inviting hooks to destitution, you will find it damn difficult to stop a middle class Kenyan flashing his/her her Sacco loan into the drain of these pata potea schemes. The bait is often so sweet after few pioneers are handsomely rewarded with interests generated from new members. No wonder our televangelists are doing so well in this industry.
Before you know it the pyramid is speedily inverted and saturation at the base leaves it with only one option, crumbling down. You cannot fault Kenyans for their penchant to make a killing with any prey in sight.
The problem is that the prey is often deadly poisonous leaving trail of corpses from those who rush to sample its juicy steak. Just ask Equity bank investors who are yet to get they refunds after the artificially-engineered over subscription. But that is a story for another day.
Enter the PAINFUL tale of numerous young Kenyan women having a date with the hangman in China. These enterprising Dubai-bound businesswomen are now pleading innocent when the bubble bust in their faces together with their plastic fortunes. They must have known the high risk that comes with their REAL BUSINESS.
Hawking fake sympathy
After numerous trips abroad, it smacks of shameless naivety to claim that you were caught with heroin while innocently helping a business associate carry a bag. Leaves you wondering what would they say and tick when checking online whether they packed their own bags. But again we are Kenyans who are synonymous with obtuse vices that define genesis of our prosperity - the end justifies the means.
There is no substitute for honesty. The aura of FRAUD thriving among us will only succeed in extinguishing any trace of credibility hitherto associated with Kenya. HELL FOR LEATHER appears to be our motto. Woe unto you who fail to smell the opportunity miles away. A smart Kenyan will stealthily grab it leaving you wallowing in poverty.
Prosperity built on vice or its derivatives is unsustainable. It maybe human to sympathize with these mothers languishing in Chinese jails. But aware of their original sin in drug pushing and the zombies their heinous actions manufacture amongst us, you cannot be sure to hawk a fake sympathy.
What a sense of déjà vu seeing the MOST SUCCESSFUL only turn to recognize and appreciate the collective value of their less industrious peers when the chips are down and out. Damn values for they bring no food to the Kenyan table.
Despite the inviting hooks to destitution, you will find it damn difficult to stop a middle class Kenyan flashing his/her her Sacco loan into the drain of these pata potea schemes. The bait is often so sweet after few pioneers are handsomely rewarded with interests generated from new members. No wonder our televangelists are doing so well in this industry.
Before you know it the pyramid is speedily inverted and saturation at the base leaves it with only one option, crumbling down. You cannot fault Kenyans for their penchant to make a killing with any prey in sight.
The problem is that the prey is often deadly poisonous leaving trail of corpses from those who rush to sample its juicy steak. Just ask Equity bank investors who are yet to get they refunds after the artificially-engineered over subscription. But that is a story for another day.
Enter the PAINFUL tale of numerous young Kenyan women having a date with the hangman in China. These enterprising Dubai-bound businesswomen are now pleading innocent when the bubble bust in their faces together with their plastic fortunes. They must have known the high risk that comes with their REAL BUSINESS.
Hawking fake sympathy
After numerous trips abroad, it smacks of shameless naivety to claim that you were caught with heroin while innocently helping a business associate carry a bag. Leaves you wondering what would they say and tick when checking online whether they packed their own bags. But again we are Kenyans who are synonymous with obtuse vices that define genesis of our prosperity - the end justifies the means.
There is no substitute for honesty. The aura of FRAUD thriving among us will only succeed in extinguishing any trace of credibility hitherto associated with Kenya. HELL FOR LEATHER appears to be our motto. Woe unto you who fail to smell the opportunity miles away. A smart Kenyan will stealthily grab it leaving you wallowing in poverty.
Prosperity built on vice or its derivatives is unsustainable. It maybe human to sympathize with these mothers languishing in Chinese jails. But aware of their original sin in drug pushing and the zombies their heinous actions manufacture amongst us, you cannot be sure to hawk a fake sympathy.
What a sense of déjà vu seeing the MOST SUCCESSFUL only turn to recognize and appreciate the collective value of their less industrious peers when the chips are down and out. Damn values for they bring no food to the Kenyan table.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)