Where’s the Beef?

Does anyone remember a song that was a big hit a few years back, from a couple of young chaps by the name Circular and Joe (or something similar)? It was something about meat and how butcheries these days have a really wide variety of cuts, and all you really need is a paper bag to carry it out with.

Other than the fact that I thought the two did not appreciate the importance of money in transactions like these, I thought the song was pretty good. After all what is the harm in promoting the meat industry in such a noble way? But I guess the enemies of the small trader were again at work and the song got a lot of flak from very many quarters.

I just have to say this – what is wrong with people?? A singer goes out of his way to talk about the harsh times in the carpentry business and how he no longer has anything to hammer, and people go crazy. Some other chap highlights the plight of the unemployed and how when his girlfriend calls he is reduced to telling her that he can’t leave the ‘keja’ so she will have to go there. Again, there is a hullabaloo. Kwani you do not want people to know the real state of the economy for the little people?? Atwoli needs to chunguza these enemies of development chap chap!

Anyway, rant over, back to my story. I was reminded of this song some time back when I spent a good portion of the weekend acting like that mama in the advert and asking “Meaty? Meaty? Where is the meat?’ No, there was no meat shortage in Kisumu. In fact the problem we had with meat- just like with petrol- was not where to find it but how to buy it ( Nairobi people feel free to be envious )

My hunt for nyama started on Saturday afternoon with an innocuous enough tweet from one OtienoHongo (he of buying his wife Sukumawiki for Valentine ’s Day and blaming it on my blog ) Apparently the chap had decided to enter my county without first applying for a visa from yours truly. This was of course not going to be allowed, so I quickly condemned him to buying nyuka and nyoyo (porridge and githeri for the unenlightened) at my local joint.

Sadly enough the Uji lady was MIA (though I don’t put it past one Mr. Otieno-Hongo to have abducted her just so he could escape going to my local- I don’t trust these Nairobi people), so I reluctantly agreed to a Meat-and-Greet instead. I had heard rave reviews of this place called the Laughing Buddha, and we agreed to meet there for the momentous occasion. (Yes momentous- how many times do you get to meet the great MagB for the very first time? Exactly)

As it turns out, the Laughing Buddha was not laughing with us but rather at us. You see, this place is –duh!- a Buddhist place. Which, it turns out, means they do not sell meat. They do have some really delicious vegetarian fare, and I got to eat this seriously yummy cup cake, so it’s actually a nice place to go and discover that there is life after meat.

Now, the LB is located in a food-court type setting with two other (non-buddhist) eateries. The one right next to it has a barbeque grill, which on this occasion was located a mere 5 feet from our table. So there I am, stomach rumbling like I hadn’t eaten for the last three days, with the smell of chicken choma and mushikaki wafting towards me, tempting me to stop pretending to be a lady and- as they used to say in the guys’ Mess in campus- ‘ATTACK!!’

Even as my non-veg fare arrived and was consumed, I kept sending covetous glances at the grill. I asked our waiter if we could be allowed to buy some nyama- at which he looked at me as if I had suggested that we perform a resurrection ceremony for the recently dead and unlamented OBL. We were informed that we could not even sit on the table we were at with any meat product in our hands.

Of course I got into an argument with the waiter, during which I may have pointed out that the right to eat meat was entrenched not only in the Constitution, but in the NEMA Act and the Witchcraft Act. At that point, my new friend – who for some strange reason was not enjoying my brilliant (and somewhat loud) ‘debate’ – got a buddy to send an ‘emergency’ phone call and sped away in the night, never to be seen again.

I finally got my waiter to allow me to place an order for Take Away Mushikaki which I did with a bit (ok, a lot) of fanfare. I don’t know what nyama guy had against me, but when I complained after having waited for about 50 minutes for my mushikaki to be ready (remember that I had a hyenas-eye view of the goings on at the grill), I was informed that my order was still on the waiting list. At that point I walked away in a huff, hoping of course that they would call me back and give me someone else’s order. Alas- I am not that influential.

Anyway, I slept with nyama on the brain, and by lunchtime Sunday I decided to look for some delicious nyama choma to feed the beast. So I stroll down to this nyama den located a kilometre or so from my house. It normally has some nice choma, only you have to buy the meat from the adjacent butchery’

Slight Digression Ahead:- I do not know if I have ever mentioned this, but I suck at mchongoano. I am the girl who had only one mchongoano line in school ‘Budako alienda kununua viatu size 8, akambiwa hakuna, akakasema –basi nipatie size 4 mbili’ (accompanied by hysterical laughter – but only from me) Which is why I appreciate people who can deliver the zingers. One of my favourite was a pal of mine who once told me ‘girl, you are so shady you go window-shopping at butchery’ (aah- we shall not discuss the truthfulness of that statement for now)

So, anyway, I headed over to the butcher, and he had these lovely cuts – succulent and just waiting to crack sizzle and pop in a good barbecue fire. With my mouth watering, I pointed to the juiciest looking piece of them all, and ordered ‘ Boss- hebu kata ka quarter hapo na uchomwe iwe soft kabisa’

I guess this guy was used to selling nyama of 2kgs onwards, because he looked at me with a sneer then continued with the business I had so rudely interrupted. I waited for about five minutes, then called out to him again, repeating my order.

The chap turned to me with all the madharau he could muster, then said’ Madam- hiyo nyama haiuzwi- ni ya display.’

Needless to say, the only choma I had that day were the veggies I burnt in frustration when I got back home.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I have beef with the Kisumu meat vendors

To my Valentine- with Love and Cheese

 

Happy VD everybody !! No? You don’t think that particular greeting captures the spirit of the day? Well, I am certainly not going to wish you a ‘ Valentine’s Dei wenye fanaka’ so I guess we can just shelve the whole greetings thing altogether .

So, what great plans do you have for this auspicious day? Any young man making a mad dash to his fundi this morning for a red Valentine’s day suit? If there is one and you are reading this (and I do not doubt that there is at least one) please ensure you post a picture of yourself and your probably-not-so-gruntled date.

Girls, I hope that those of you who expect presents from their SOs will be luckier than me in the gifts they receive. I used to think I was the unluckiest gal in the world for dating guys who just don’t get it (or are too cheap to want to get it!). I may have mentioned the cooking chocolate I got some years back once or twice (or a thousand times – the idea that someone gave me this as a  present still rankles).

However, I am very pleased to announce that I no longer hold the title for ‘ Recipient of Worst Valentine’s Day Gift Ever’ That, for the moment, goes to my twitter Pal BintiM’s friend who received sufurias as a symbol of her man’s undying love. Sufurias!! I did not dare ask how she reacted to the gift , ( I am a little squeamish – plus I would rather not know what she did with the body, thank you very much) Seeing, as I am feeling very Agony Aunt-ish today , though, I will give this piece of unsolicited advice to my dear brothers: if you are giving a woman a romantic gift, it is advisable to pick one that cannot be used to brain you.

But ladies, maybe I am being too hasty in crowning our new champion. There could be someone out there thinking ‘Sufurias? Please – compared to what I got , that gift is on the same level with a thousand red and white roses and enough bling to permanently blind you’  Well, if you think you are a serious contender, tell us all about it, and let the people decide whether you are the rightful owner of this award.

But I digress. Today, I would like to focus on that great cornerstone of Valentine’s day- the cheesy love lines . I was reminded of this the other day, when my pal showed me a book review which had the following great line:-

You are the Fu to my Kung

(OK _ I have paraphrased the line – but trust me the words Kung and Fu appeared together in one sentence, and not immediately following each other)

Ladies, I can hear a lot of swooning going on, as many of you are overcome by the sheer ROMANCE of that line. I mean, it is only a woman with a heart of stone who would not melt at such poetry,right? Err … for the clueless guy in the corner taking notes, use that line and you can be sure you will be dropped-kicked by your lady faster than Bruce Lee can scream ‘Kia eee!!!!’

I tweeted that epic line on Saturday, and my pal Buggz – a man who, by the way, urgently needs a sanity transplant – reciprocated by tweeting this beauty of a line:

Baby, you are hot with a capital HO

*swoon*

Of course that got me curious as to the worst lines that have ever been uttered , so I got googling. After an intense 10 minutes of searching , I came across some lines that just have to be shared to be believed. My three favourites?

You are so hot you melt the plastic in my underwear

You’re like my dandruff, I cant get you out of my head

My love for you is like diarrhea, I can’t hold it in!

And they said romance was dead!

But to be fair, guys should not be blamed for their sometimes over-inventive mistari. I think bad lines are a recessive genome found somewhere in that ‘y’ chromosome they have  (what am I talking about? Who the heck knows!) . Some guys escape, but many are driven by said genome to write or say some lines that seriously need to be taken out and shot.

I am sorry guys if I appear to have been a little too hard on you today. It’s just that  a few hundred thousand men have given  the rest of you a really bad name. And any way, in my defence, it is a well known fact that Valentine’s Day is a day many of you detest, so it’s not as if I am ruining anything for you.

Also I don’t really think that bad lines are the preserve of men. If women had to throw darts (as we used to say back in the day) I suspect some of our efforts would rival the worst of the stuff our guys come up with. In fact, the cheesiest song I know is actually by sung a gal , and has this memorable verse :

There are nine million bicycles in Beijing

Thats a Fact

Its a thing we can’t deny

Like the fact that I will love you till I die

Oh wait … the lyrics were actually written by a man. Oops ! Sorry guys – I tried.

Anyway, today I am hoping that you can help me do in my Individual Social Responsibility deed for the day. There are, I’m sure, hundreds of guys who have as yet not found the ultimate cheesy line with which to bemuse, bewilder, befuddle and bedazzle their loved ones this evening. I think it’s only right that we help them out.

Guys, what is the second most corny line you have ever heard ? ( I won’t ask you for the corniest, since I know you are saving that one for this evening when you move in for the kill) Girls, what is the one lyric that if a guy threw at you would either shoot him or marry him immediately , because anyone that clueless does not deserve to live without a keeper? Post some of them in the comments section and consider your good deed of the day done.

For those of you intending to have a nice evening with their loved one, have a wonderful romantic time. Forthe 40 odd percent who intend to spend said evening with their mipango wa kando , remember to keep your receipts handy, just in case one Mr Gathu decides to come auditing at midnight (what is it with celebs and stalking not-so-innocent wananchi at questionable hours of the night?)

For the rest of us, enjoy an evening doing whatever you want to do , just make it work for you. Personally, I shall be eating chocolate, watching some Nigerian lady get two-timed by a handsome sleazeball and generally lamenting that my current soap does not have any one named Alejandro behaving like an idiot.

Happy Valentine’s Day !!

 

Blah Blah Blama

Happy New Year from the land of Magaribina (it sounds like an exotic island, doesn’t it?) I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas break and you are ready to go back to building the nation – or derailing the nation builders in the case of some who shall not be named.

Well, New Year is confession time, so I guess I had better get this off my chest. I had every intention of committing blogicide last year. In fact, those who checked in around November found a big padlock at the door and an ‘admission by invitation only’ sign displayed very prominently. My intention, basically, was to keep the door closed until nobody bothered to show up any more, then quietly kill it.

Unfortunately for me, three things happened in December almost simultaneously. First, I was asked to write a post by one of my favouritestest bloggers and tweeps, the dazzling Nkirdizzle. Of course I said a big fat N. O. However, this girl is not one to accept lame excuses from anyone. ‘I don’t care if you have to beg borrow or steal that mojo, miss. I want a post, at least 700 words long and I want it in 488 hours’, she told me very sternly.

Well, my mojo was so terrified, it quickly made a technical appearance, as a result of which I wrote this post. If you have time, do head over there and read some choice posts by Nkirdizzle’s 11 other guest bloggers that will make you laugh, cry and think.

Anyway, after I handed in my homework the lady informed me that she would only publish it if my blog was unlocked. I opened my mouth to tell her that not publishing it was ok with me, but I swear I felt her reach out from across the blogosphere and give me a ngoto. And that is how in the early days of December, the signpost was removed and my blog once more became accessible.

Barely two days later event number two occurred. This time it was one KBaab who conspired to mess with my plans. The lady decided to borrow a leaf from Ocampo, and publish her own list, the KBaab 16 . Check it out if you haven’t already – the list contains the names  and addresses of some of Kenya’s finest bloggers.

(I hear some annoying people at the back asking how I got onto this list. Well, my conscience is clear and I shall soon be vindicated … wait … it is a GOOD thing to be on this list ! So to you my detractors I simply say SHADDUP !!)

So there I was, hobnobbing with the blogeratti. I could not close my blog again just then, because haiya- what if she in turn decided to remove my name from the list ? No way was I going to risk that.

Of course I had no intention whatsoever of actually writing anything in the next 20 years or so. That was before I got hit by the whirlwind that is Raymond Chepwony. I don’t know what kind of juju the guy uses , but he has about 1,000,000 followers. (I think he pays them to read – which reminds me : Boss  wapi check yangu?) How do I know? Because the guy sent traffic my way one day , and suddenly I was deluged by hits.

Seriously, courtesy of the three bloggers, I have been getting traffic here that I haven’t seen since .. well … never to be frank. I mean, how embarrassing is it that my top three days hit-wise, were on a week when I had not posted anything for 2 months? Sheesh!  ( I thought I would be able to insert a graph but who am I kidding?)

Ray, though, takes the prize. Here I am contemplating a silent closure, when he sends people my way, and shortly after that announces very loudly that he has retired his blog. Ray! Ray! You stole my move!!. I mean, now if I retire everybody will think I am copying you. Mscheeeew! If you don’t go back to blogging ASAP so that I can retire in style then I am going to the police to report you for theft of intellectual property, contrary to some article or another in the new constitution!

In the meantime, as I wait for the police to arrest and personhandle Ray, I will keep the blog open for a little while longer. But things are changing drastically here, and you better be aware of this immediately.

For starters, you guys are not going to overwork me like you did last year. You had me working overtime, no sleep, churning out a record 1 post in two months. No regard for my high levels of exhaustion, no understanding when I was only a month behind schedule , and worst of all no MPesa gifts to stir up the old mojo. Well your slave-driving days are over. To paraphrase Ngugi wa Thiong NgaBLOGa Ndeeda!

Also, this year I am going to try and do something different, something I came up with all by myself (shut up Nzembi). Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Blog Chama – the Blama.

Sigh – I can see some blank faces in the room .Let me explain. You have heard of the chama, aka the merry-go-round. Group congregates regularly, gives money to one of the members( In turns so at the end of a ‘round’ everyone has received the boom) have lots of food and drink and in some cases collect enough money to do some serious development.

The Blama (TM , Patent pending , all rights reserved) will be a chance for one to host a number of bloggers ( kind of like what Nkirdizzle did) and get tens of good quality posts, after which the whole lot migrate to someone else’s blog and do the same thing all over again.  The process is repeated till all the bloggers have played host to the Blama members.

The Blama can be formed in all manner of ways. It could be blogs that write similar types of posts ( so that one Blama could have techies like myself, IddSalim , Kachwanya and others of our calibre) It could be a themed coop job (again, kinda like what Nkirdizzle did) or it could just be random guys stretching themselves by writing posts that are not in their usual areas of expertise ( I am sure, for instance that CarolKmail can’t wait for my post  “10 Secrets to Successful Parenting that Non-Parents wish Every Parent Knew’)

Just remember that I have the patent for this idea , therefore I am the Blama Queen. Anyone forming a Blama therefore has to pay royalities. My Mpesa number will be found at the end of this post.

Finally , this is a polite reminder to the people who promised calendars and diaries last year and failed to deliver: Pay up now or else! I have a few tough looking cousins who will be only too willing to drop by your houses and pick up the goods.

By the way, I have a mini post ready and waiting in the kitchen (courtesy of Bomseh’s Tag), which I shall unleash tomorrow or the day after ( my blog guru told me to never ever release two posts in one day – actually he said to release a post every  week, but when have I ever listened to him?)

Have an amazingly blessed year everyone

THE NOKIA DOHO – A Magaribina REVIEW

This post is inspired by boredom. Hopefully, by spreading it to you, I will get rid of mine.

A few weeks ago, I bought a new phone. It was a really really cute phone, my very first Nokia. For the first time I could chat on my phone and read  my mail away from my computer.  Talk about cutting edge technology! Then, barely two months after I got it, I travelled to the big bad city where the street jamaas  must have figured out that I had not been distributing my non-existent wealth for some time now . My phone was promptly appropriated (I still can’t quite figure out how) and I was back to being a one-phone Kenyan.

My readers in Kenya have probably seen that CCK advert where the thugs with about 1000 sim cards extort money from people. Well, apart from the menacing voice, the phone calls, the toothpick (or is that grass?) and the sidekick, that could be me. At last count I had 3 Zain,  3 Safaricom, 2 Yu and 1 Orange sim cards. My friends think I am weird because I have one dedicated line each for Mpesa and Zap, but I figure that way people won’t be sending me 100 bob on Mpesa just to find out what my name is (and no I am not a husband snatcher or anything).

So anyway, it did not take me long to realize that I still needed a second – and probably a third- phone just to get by. Problem is that I wanted a phone that was both pretty and not worth crying about if  my brothers on the street ever claimed it back. And of course this time  it had to be a dual sim phone so I didn’t have to  carry so many of those darn things around.

Well, I am now the proud owner of a phone I have nicknamed DOHO ( doho means polygamy in my mother tongue , and in my opinion if there ever was a group of people that needed a dual  sim phone it is these guys- you marketing-type people taking note?) Since there seems to be a lot of phone reviews being done on tech blogs  lately I think I will be doing everyone a big service if I did a review of my phone too. (What? You didn’t think I abandoned my techie-wannabe ambitions that easily, did you?)  So, without further ado, here it is:

THE NOKIA DOHO – A Magaribina REVIEW

Look :

Th box says it is a Nokia E 52. According to the Internets, DOHO should look like this : Pretty cool phone. Also very expensive.

In  actual fact it looks like this :

This is what the box says it looks like

Still pretty cool looking in my opinion. Plus its all metallic and stuff.  Shiiiny. Notice  how on the face thingy of my phone there is no indication as to which Nokia it is?  That is actually an advantage because you can tell people anything you want – at the moment I have someone convinced that I have a  Nokia XP.

Verdict: – Shiiny  (*.*)

Feel

It weighs slightly less than a tonne of bricks. Not by much though.

Verdict :– It definitely enhances the potential of your handbag  (or murse) as a deadly weapon.

Sound :

This is what a typical phone call on DOHO  sounds like

ME: Hello

Other Person : *static*

ME Hello??

OP: *static*…turn…….music….…..loud *static*

ME Hello?????

OP :  *static* …….wrong…….kittens…….sleep….caress *static*

Later it turns out to be my boss who was trying to get me to attend to a mteja urgently (of course) but who tells me he  could not hear me because of the loud music in whatever disco I had been at the time. Note: I was actually in my house with all electronic implements turned off and not even a ticking clock to break the silence. Try convincing the boss of that though.

Verdict :- This phone is not recommended if you actually want to make or receive phone calls.

Camera:

The phone boasts a camera, Great. So I decided I was going to take a photo of myself and put it up on my blog to finally get rid of this anonymity maneno once and for all. And here it is :

Verdict :– it’s a good camera to use  for illustrating a ghost story. In the meantime, I remain anonymous (to some at least) for a little while longer.

Other distinctive features :

• Its price – I was offered DOHO at 4,500/=  but bought it at 2,700/. Not bad for a phone that is supposed to retail at USD 250.
• A memory chip, without which the camera, the internet and the radio does not work- go figure.
• Bmi calculator (although why they want to torture me like that I don’t know really)
• An E book reader. Don’t know how it works , but doesnt it just sound so advanced to say ‘ My phone has an ebook reader’ ? Don’t answer that.
• A Nokia battery is available – its says so right there on the box !

Some drawbacks:

• The tune that plays when it goes on or off. It may be a little difficult to explain if I were , for instance, trying to switch  it off in church. Unfortunately, it seems I can neither delete it nor reduce its volume. I am reduced to putting it on silentmode every timeI want to switch it off – a fact of course which I only remember AFTER  I have deafened my immediate neighbours.
• The ring tones. You know it is bad when my current ring tone is Michael Jacksons’s Thriller.  Fortunately (or unfortunately- I keep forgetting which) the ring tone volume is such that only it is only audible to people who are at most a quarter of a metre away from it. I think they saved all the sound for the above mentioned on-off tune.
• My Internet connection. Which remains non- existant. Because no way am I going to have to explain to the snobs at the customer care offices which phone exactlyit is that I possess.
• The funny English. Like ‘Entry camera’ (the opposite of ‘exit camera’ )
• The games. They are boring. All those shooting games and no snake. What kind of Nokia is that?

General overview.

This is a phone you will definitely enjoy having if you are a tone deaf, reclusive ghost buster with a serious addiction to shiny things. The rest of you may not appreciate its singular qualities ( I would have called them peculiar, but MJ already used that line) .

Would I buy it again? Yes I would. Would I part with the one I currently have? Most definitely. In fact, if any body is willing to give me back half  the purchase price. I will be willing to to part with this one-of-a kind treasure.  Na bei ni ya kuongea … Any takers?

A Letter to My Day Old Niece

Hello there beautiful. Welcome to planet earth. Your mummy and daddy (the one with the ready- to- drink stuff and the one who keeps on making silly faces and sillier sounds) have not yet given you a name, so I and my friends have decided you shall be called Twirra. I know- you are crying in joy.

So, what words of wisdom do I want to impart today? Well first of all, never EVER come to me for that. The kid sleeping across from you in hospital is far more likely to give better counsel than I. However, if you choose to disregard this advice and still come looking for pearls of wisdom from me, then these are the ten things that your aunt Mag thinks you really need to know;

1. Stay away from boys. I mean it. Stay far far far away from them. When you are younger they will delight in pulling your hair, calling you names and presenting you with all manner of weird creatures just to see you cry. When you are a little older, they will do the same things, only this time they will be thinking it will make you like them. *sigh*. Boys are stupid. Unfortunately, if you do not listen to my advice, you will soon find yourself falling for those hair pulling etc stunts, and THAT’S when you are in trouble, because one of those pesky devils will worm his way into your heart. I have your back though- first thing tomorrow morning I am getting me a shotgun. He breaks your heart, I break his head.

2. I don’t know what music you will be listening to when you hit musical puberty, but if God is merciful, the hip-hop stage will have long since passed. A word from your wise old aunt. Don’t judge us by any music genres that were popular after the mid 90s. Mankind kinda suffered collective mass hysteria after that, resulting in hip hop and rock and all those other genres and sub genres. Look out for the really good music that was produced before then. Especially country music. Your aunt knows what she is talking about.

3. I intend to give you your first story book on your 3rd birthday. I hope I am not leaving it too late. There are lots of new friends just waiting for you in the covers of those books. Make sure you meet as many of them as possible. And that you let them take you on all sorts of great adventures. Then you will stay away from the nasty hair-pullers.

4. Fish and pizza are brain food. Do not however try eating them together. Veggies are good too, especially the greens. Sweet potatoes though – well, the less you see of them the better for you.

5. Stay away from your crazy aunt. No,  not me : the other one- the one they call Drama Mama. DM will only teach you the bad stuff. Stick with me though and you will turn out into a  perfect angel,  just like your aunt. Yes, I meant me- and hey, you are too young to start laughing!

6. I don’t know what the future holds in  the internet arena. I am sure though that you are going to be a whizz at it, whatever IT is. Just make sure you explain it SLOWLY to your dear aunt, so she remains ‘with it’. After all she is the one who will be introducing you to the net very shortly.

7. Whatever you do, if you remember nothing else, remember this: well cooked ugali always smells like popcorn. This cardinal truth must never be forgotten.

8. As much as it may seem impossible to believe, your dear old aunt does not, in fact know everything. I know this comes as a shock to you. It is one of the astonishing realities of life you and many others have had to come to grips with. The truth is that there are one or two subjects that I may actually have very little knowledge of. Like Fashion. And Cars. And IT. And Fitness. And Gadgets. And… well maybe we should not dwell too much on the negatives.

9. Since I love you and want the best for you, I am already in the advance stages of getting you a husband. I believe he is a very suitable young man I am told he is only slightly older than you and a very handsome, very clever young man. Your parents might make noises about how I have not actually met the young man in question but only transacted with his aunt on the internet. They may say horrible stuff about me like how I took the dowry and “ate’ it before your first birthday. That is all nonsense- I had your best interests at heart always. And any way- his aunt says he is a good boy so who am I to contradict her?

10. There is no number 10. Life can be cruel like that. I am just prepping you for the heartache you may experience from broken promises. OK… if you insist then I will give you just one last piece of advice: value your friends and never ever take them for granted. Learn from your dear old aunt.

There you go dear; lots of extremely important advice just for you. I intend to come live with you when I am old and senile, so take heed of everything I tell you. It will help you grow into a perfect woman, just like me.

Have a great life baby girl. You are always going to be my precious darling.

Your aunt Mag

A Cool Story

In the earlier phases of this blog, I got it in my head that this would be a techie blog. Never mind that I keep on mistaking a CPU for a UPS and that the only C+ I know is the one I proudly got in Biology some years back  (it was a great achievement considering I got my only 0% ever in biology – for drawing a rabbit with two circles , two v’s for ears and a tail, and naming its body parts ‘head’ , ‘thorax ‘ and ‘abdomen’ ).  A year and a few mind-jarringly terrible posts later, I am still clinging to the hope that one day I will be struck by lightning – like John Travolta in that movie – and become an amazingly brilliant blogger, writing with ease on any given technical topic – in about 20 different languages. Until that time, though, I will once in a while attempt to bore you to death with a few posts like this one.

I mentioned a while back that I finally got my first laptop – except it wasn’t actually a laptop :- more like a slightly bigger calculator with word processing capabilities. My baby was promptly named PT (or Petey, if you like), which comes from Peter Tosh since my baby is a Toshiba. Yeah, I know – veerrry original . It was, of course, love at first sight, and notwithstanding the fact that PT has crap for speakers and no CD drive, we get along very well . ( I think it has something to do with the fact that he doesn’t have much of a say on where he lives.)

Anyway, PT has been in Laptop Hospital for almost a week now. My techie friends probably have a name for what ails him, but to put it in terms I can understand, he has had problems with high temperatures for a while now, and lately he has been experiencing  seizures and going into short comas every once in a while. Right now I am doing the distraught mum routine to the extreme.  Not only do I go see him in hospital every day, but I also call the doctor at least 10 times a day asking for updates. He has threatened to change his number and move to Armenia if I don’t stop bugging him..

This heating up business has been the cause of a lot of misery for me. I was told that that was the one thing I had to guard against at all costs, so when I noticed it happen, I started taking measures to rectify the situation.

My first brain wave was to cool it down like all mothers do their babies – by giving it a sponge bath. It was only after I had done that about 4 or 5 times that I remembered that water and electricity are not really compatible. So to protect us both from early deaths, I had to discontinue this treatment. ( side question – why is it that when I Google sponge bath I get pictures of nurses in really short skirts?)

My second idea was another old fashioned one: fan  it down manually – the way one does when one wants to light a jiko.

My state-of-the-art hand-held fans (stolen from my Aunt's BBQ)

For a while there were paper plates in just about every room in my house, ready for action as and when necessary. After a while, though, I started noticing that my right arm was getting bigger than Congestina’s while my left one remained as flabby as ever. I realized then that I needed to find another solution.  (There was also the fact that I had run out of paper plates )

Enter my brothers, who between the two of them have enough skills in woodwork, electrical stuff, and metal work to be a danger to society, and not quite enough to make a living off of. I begged bribed and bullied till they made me an external fan that looked like… well , let me just show you .

The magaribina fan - not worth a trademark

My begging etc ,however, was not enough to get me some varnish or paint. I ended up with something that resembles a very very ugly kiti moto ( you know- the one you sit on when you are at your granny’s kitchen eating roast maize ) . Then too, its appearance seems to keep people guessing as to its actual use. I strongly suspect that a sniffer dog was deployed to my hotel room recently, after housekeeping staff found the fan lying on my bed.

Well, one of my relatives finally came to the conclusion that if I continued lugging this thing around ( and lugging is the operative word- that this is heavy ) there were chances that HE would end up on a no-flying list someday. In self defence, he opted to buy me a cooling pad from somewhere in this decade. Of course, being the cheapskate that he is,she did not get me this one but opted for its poorer cousin.

I am not complaining,  however, because I now look like a very high tech mama with my new cooling fan.  Sadly, though , I have not yet been able to do my peacock impression with it, since PT is in hospital , but  once he is discharged,  watch out Kisumu !

( I never quite know how to end posts, so today I will take the easy way out )

THE END .

Update: I just got back from seeing PT and the prognosis is not good. Doc wants to do extensive tests and even more expensive organ transplants. I have asked him to keep him alive till I can find out all the secrets he keeps then pull the plug . Goodbye PT  *sniff* we shall surely miss you for you were.. hello beautiful! And what’s YOUR name ??

World Cup Predictions: You’ve been cephalopoded

So, apparently I suck at WC predictions. France was eliminated on the very day I posted ( but Henry played ! Yaaaay!! – that there made the WC all worthwhile) . My other two teams, Brazil and Ghana , were eliminated on the same day – the day I like to think about as Black Saturday ( or was that Thursday ?)

To add insult to injury, I was out-predicted by an octopus ! Hala! Paul the Octopus, an English-born cephalopod who currently resides in Germany (but who I’m betting was either deported or turned into the main ingredient for some schnitzel-like dish after last night’s game) correctly predicted all six of Germany’s games. (Notice how I used that big word cephalopod there? Shows how brainy I am)

I wonder, could Paul be hired for predictions outside of the Soccer arena? Because if he could predict outcomes in other areas with as much accuracy, then I think we should use him for all polls in the country , from who will win the Referendum, to which soap cleans whitest. He is an octopus, so I doubt he will require more than a few treats in payment,which means we can cut back our budget immensely ( and have enough money to increase the wages of our seriously overworked and underpaid MPs) .

Then too , we can rely on his findings, since he has so far proved that he is immune to pressure ( he refused to go with the German flow, even though he could have saved his … err … tentacles by predicting a Gernman win) or bribes (wait, you actually believed those treats were exactly the same and that the German one was not just a little tastier? Sucker!)

Hmm… maybe Paul needs a manager for his engagement in Africa. Let me go research the best ways to get on the right side of an octopus ( or is that sides? These funnily shaped animals are very confusing) and see a human octopus about drawing up a contract of sorts.

Now now … you didn’t think I would be leaving before humiliating myself with another prediction, now, did you ? The final two are Netherlands and Spain . If I recall correctly, my pros and cons for the two were

Spain
Pro: They gave us the óle óle song. Plus they are supposed to have some cute guys in spain
Con: Real Madrid.

Netherlands
Pro: Err… windmills ?
Con: Wannachezanga football huko?

Now that I have learnt that they not only play ball , but play it well ( or so I have heard; still haven’t watched any match – except the first minute or so after Henry came in to play for France) I am leaning towards Netherlands. In fact , this is the prediction I am going to make :

In the world cup finals this year, Netherlands Is going to beat Spain
3:1. First goal by Netherlands in the first half. Second goal by Spain in the 1st 5 minutes of the 2nd half, then just when everybody is getting prepped for extra time, the Netherlands will come out with 2 goals in 5 minutes and completely crush all Spanish hopes. Thus sayeth Mag the Oracle (Hah ! Beat that you over-limbed sea monster!)

(If you are wondering how I came to this conclusion, just know that it was through a very scientific method involving , among many other things, computer analysis, the distance the losing team would have to travel from S.A., team colours and how easy it is for my 2 year old niece to pronounce the country’s name.)

If I was hedging my bets I would say that Spain will win it 5:3 on penalties, lakini since I’m not even sure that is a possible score line, I will stick to my first prediction .

Whichever team wins I have only one request – try not to bore me this time. Please? Thank you.

PS :In case anyone in here needs this, I have very kindly included the recipe for Octopus Salad . You are welcome

World Cup: It’s my choice

Last week I got a regular msomo from someone when I told him I had not picked out a team to support in theWorld Cup. Apparently, this is a crime bigger than being a serial killer or a politician. Well , since this is such a big deal, I have decided to take my time, weigh the pros and cons of every team before I make my final selection. Never let anyone say that I did not do a full and thorough investigation .

K, this one’s for you

South Africa
Pro: They are the hosts. Plus I love the shosholoza song.
Con: I don’t know how to click, so I may not be able to pronounce some names.

Brazil
Pro: I have supported them for 3 consecutive WCs. Also , remember that time when one of them scored a goal and then they started making rock-a-baby motions? That means they make good fathers. Also , they pray when they win the cup.
Con: They have only won 1 of the 3 WCs that I supported them to win. Plus – they never pray when they lose the cup.

Spain
Pro: They gave us the óle óle song. Plus they are supposed to have some cute guys in spain
Con: Real Madrid.

Netherlands
Pro: Err… windmills ?
Con: Wannachezanga football huko?

Italy
Pro: Italians are considered heart-throbs the world over
Con: That jinga Italian guy got my heart-throb du-jour expelled at the last WC

Germany
Pro: Their KFF is called the Bundesliga . How cool is it that I know this?
Con: They used to have a very stone-faced goalie/captain. If he is still there they lose my support

Argentina
Pro : I have a good friend and a baby brother from Argentina
Con: Yaani Maradona bado yuko?

England
Pro: Err…. Err….err…… they gave us a love for chips.
Con: Rooney . And Manchester United .

Australia
Pro: The team is called the Socceroos . How cute and cuddly is that ?
Con: Does cute and cuddly translate to wins?

Japan
Pro: All the ‘made in Japan” stuff I own.
Con: There was this guy at the last WC who dyed his hair yellow. Asi !!

Korea DPR
Pro: I’m told this is the only country where there are financial benefits to being a fan.
Con: I don’t think I can pass for a Korean.

Korea Republic
Yaani both qualified? Ok.. I’m disqualifying this one just so I don’t get confused. Lakini If it’s still standing later and the other one isn’t, I will reconsider.

Honduras
Sina la kusema. I’m not even sure I know which continent it is in. Any Honduran reading this- maybe we could organize a cultural exchange after the WC.

Mexico
Pro: The Mexican wave
Con: The Mexican Soaps

United States
Pro: My brother Obama
Con: American football

New Zealand
Pro: They have a great Rugby team
Con: Their team sometimes beats ours

Algeria:
Pro: Go North Africa!
Con: Did they beat Kenya to win? If so, I ain’t supporting them!

Cameroon
Pro: Etoo
Con: Remember the kit they came up with one time? I’ve never forgiven them for this !

Côte d’Ivoire
Pro: They have the most beautiful name in the tournament.
Con: Drogba’s hair. Nuff said.

Ghana
Pro: When I was younger I wanted to get married to a Ghanaian… none in particular, just a Ghanaian
Con: No one asked me to marry him.

Nigeria
Pro: Ma brodas used to have Kanu, who played for Arsenal
Con: The Kenyans who speak in a bad Naija accent, oh.

Chile
Pro: It has/had a female president.
Con: Everytime I hear the name , Im reminded of chillies. I HATE chillies.

Paraguay
Pro: It sounds like a fun country –paragliding, parachuting, parakeets.
Con : I keep confusing it with Uruguay

Uruguay
Pro: I used to know someone from here
Con: We lost touch

Denmark
Pro: Danish pastries. Plus I think they have a King or Queen.
Con: Great Danes. Those dogs are scary ! Or are those British Bulldogs?

France
Pro: Henry! Zidane! Mais oui!
Con: I don’t think they are playing this time.

Greece:
Pro: They hosted the last WC… or was that the Olympics ?
Con: I can’t even imagine how hard it will be to remember the players’names.

Portugal
Pro: Thy built Fort Jesus , I think
Con: Is that where the Other ( non Brazilian ) Ronaldo plays? OK, that disqualifies them kabisa !

Serbia:
Pro: It has the simplest name of the countries from that region.
Con: I cant tell it apart from Croatia.

Slovakia
Pro: Err…err….
Con : I can’t think of a pro.

Slovenia
See Slovakia above. Kwanza these two names tatanisha sana!

Switzerland:
Pro: Chocolate ! Nuff said.
Con: They have chocolate – how can there be a con?

Well , after that scientific analysis of the teams, I have come up with the following three as my teams

1. Brazil – maybe this year they will win
2. France- maybe this year they will have another cute player.
3. Ghana- maybe this year a Ghanaian will propose.

And THAT’S how you chose a WC team.

It’s all in the Standard

For those of you who were alive and rational some 25 years ago, you might remember this little ditty from Standard Newspapers. For the rest- here’s an old ad, remixed and reloaded Mag style. Enjoy!

People Politics Sports and Colour Pics

• Well the person of the month just has got to be me ! Mag’s blog turned one last week and I ( the special girl behind Magaribina) celebrate another birthday this week, so yaaaay me !! (Please- if I can’t be self-centred in my own blog then there’s no reason to have one, is there? Don’t answer that!)

Special mention, though, to all the June bugs out there- my twin bro and sis Will and Kikei, as well as Max, Mo, Wyndago, Crystal Soleaddict and anyone else that may have escaped my memory. Happy birthday in advance or belatedly, guys. Yep- we rule !

• Politics….hmm…has any intelligent life form been spotted in the political arena yet? If not , I’m still not interested.

• The sports event of the moment is definitely the World Cup . It should have started by the time I get round to posting this. This means I get to see the only game I ever watch in 4 years- the final match. I’m clueless as to which teams are playing, but before this thing is over, I will find a team to insult others about (its the only reason I follow football- to be a crazed fan). I hope, though, that whichever team it ends up being, it will be good enough to get to the finals so I can actually watch it play. GO As-Yet-Unknown-Team!!!!!!!!

• Colour pics would be my new-found interest in photography. I’ll just say one thing about this: The spirit is willing but the camera is weak. That’s the only reason my photos look like this:

Wait – maybe I could be the first person to do abstract photography. Goodness- I AM a genius!!

Top Tunes, Cartoons, Who’s who, Points of view

• As a die-hard Dolly Parton fan (don’t judge me- especially if you listen to the hippetty hoppetty music!), my top tune of the month would be “When I get where I’m going”, her duet with Brad Paisley. I would post a link if I knew how.

• I haven’t actually watched any cartoons this month, so I guess I have to pass on this for now. My all time favourites though were He-Man and She-Ra. Oh and Scooby Doo, of course.

• Who’s who would be my blog’s hall of famers

Archer- taught me all about blogging. If I had listened to half of what he said, I would be twice as famous as he is. Ah well…

Kellie – my first commenter,who was kind enough to do about 4 comments on different posts . She has a seat right next to the throne. No not that throne!

Intelligensia – the first person to leave multiple comments on a single post ( when your comment tally is 5 comments, 3 of which are your own, a multiple commenter is a very very important person ! )

Shiku – the first person to mention my blog on their blog . Plus she said my blog was interesting ( and no – she did not send me a fee note after that… and I did not offer to pay said fee note in kind. That did not happen )

Nkirdizzle – My first pingback. And the person who made me have to look up what exactly a pingback was.

Wainainah- the first person to ask for Magaribina on twitter. And the first fan I ever stalked

• Points of view. None worth mentioning. Except mine. And it goes without saying that mine is always the correct POV. Always.

New trends, Big Spends, Money Lends and God Sends

• I don’t go for trends. In fact I am quite comfortable being the most behind-the-times person on the planet. It makes me special.

• My potential big spend is the phone I am about to buy thanks to your kind and generous donations. Contact details below.

• Money lends? Well, I guess if you won’t give me the cash outright, I will take a loan; just don’t look for repayment anytime in this decade. Wait … I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m good for the cash people!

• God Sends would be the great people I met through the net. They know who they are.

Local news , Interviews, What-to-do Crossword Clues

• Local news would be the earth tremor that hit Kisumu on Sunday. That I missed. Because I was on the back of a pick-up somewhere in the middle of nowhere being shaken, not stirred, while in the company of 20 other hapless passengers and their luggage. Even omena are not packed this tightly! I have to say, though, that it was an improvement on the last time I travelled this route. Then the 21st passenger happened to be a very smelly goat who insisted on making its opinion of the journey loudly known, to the agony of those within earshot (which would have been all of us)!

• Since I’m neither a journalist nor a student, I don’t conduct interviews, and unfortunately, nobody so far thinks I’m interview
material. Too bad. I have been practicing saying ‘no comment’ for ages.

• For my crossword clue, l give you the first cryptic puzzle I ever solved- There’s a path with tea at the end in this town (5) ( see answer at the bottom of this post)

Big shots, Tiny tots, super shops, Stocks and Shocks

• Some of you may not agree with me , but I think that Orie Rogo Manduli is a true big shot. I love the woman’s flamboyance and her belief in herself and her capabilities, no matter what the rest of the world might think. So it was a very big thrill for me to sit across the aisle from her on a flight to Nairobi a few weeks ago. Her Elegance was of course dressed to kill. So you can imagine how unamused she was when a couple of grasshoppers decided to set up house on her matching shawl. However, I must give her credit – she was not as volatile as one might have expected from having seeing her on TV.

Oh and by the way, the hoppers were determined to acknowledge me as the other celeb on the plane . I actually outdid Her Elegance by finding 4 grasshoppers hovering round my seat. Thanks, Whatever Airlines: you have a really unique but effective way of drawing attention to the celebs on board.

• For tiny tots I think I will highlight my nephew, who at 6 months latches on to the people he considers important, and does not let go until a significant amount of money has been placed into his hands. I don’t know whether to cringe or clap.

• I’m going to go with Tusky’s Nakuru for super shop. That place has the friendliest, most helpful staff you will ever come across. The thing is, though, that you have to travel all the way to the second floor (no lifts) to find them, cause the ground floor staff are your garden-variety indifferent to rude Kenyans. So next time you are in the neighbourhood, don’t be discouraged by the ground level staff- just pant your way upstairs for service with a smile.

• As for stocks and shocks, I guess it would be a big shock if I ever wrote a post about the stock market in Kenya- or anywhere else for that matter. And that concludes that.

Just Arrived, Just engaged, On the Stage , Bargain Page

• Just arrived would be my neighbour’s new baby. Congratulations and welcome baby Mag Junior – blame your parents for the name.

• Just engaged? Do people still get engaged ? Maybe they just never tell me about it! Oh well..

• I rarely pay money to watch a good play. My baby sister- she whom I call Miss Drama Mama- provides this for free. Seriously, I have never seen anyone who cries on command as well as DM, or comes up with the kind of lies and drama she provides. In case you missed it, she is the one who once picked up her boyfriend’s phone as it was ringing, and told the woman on the other end ‘Listen carefully- Carl is dead. Don’t ever call this line again‘ as Carl watched on in amazement.

• On bargains, I have to plug my new find , a B&B in Nakuru called Marlin’s Guest house . For 1300 you get a really cute room with breakfast .

3000 Bob gets you a fully furnished cottage with a sitting room, bedroom and kitchen with all the amenities. If I was sure it did not violate any of the new NEMA laws (they are legion) I would put up the contact number for the guy at the reception.

ITS ALL IN THE STANDARD

Yes, and they better pay me for all this advertising !! Or at least mention me in the dailies. Come on Standard- help a sister out !

Oh yeah – before I forget:- its all at Magaribina’s world as well !

Prices , Crises, Lucky Stars Rally Cars

• The Price of Ugali. Nuff said.
• A crisis would be me trying to check out of a hotel room without my room key and the staff telling me that I would have to part with at least 5,000/= to go that route. Note that I was there by invite and not on a vacation, and as usual, I had only enough cash to take care of my boda boda fare from the airport. 2 hours, 2 unpacked bags, and many exchanged ‘compliments’ later, I finally found it where three staff members had sworn they had looked and not seen It – on the bed.

• Lucky stars? Don’t believe in them. Unless you count that Canadian kid who got lots of internet time despite that fact that he cant really sing to save humanity.

• Rally cars? They still have those? I stopped caring when Shekhar Mehtah still ruled the Safari Rally.

Look –Arounds, Lost-and Founds fade fade fade fade fade fade

• Look arounds is an invite to look around my old posts and see if you can’t find anything to keep you mildly amused for a few seconds. My favourites are this one, this one and of course this one.

• Lost and found is a commentary on my current twitter state – I keep disappearing and reappearing. *sigh*- its not my fault; the real world keeps insisting it needs quality time from me. If anyone finds out how one can live off twitter , please tell me so I can tell the real world to take a hike .

• And at this point I take a page from the advert and fade fade fade – in other words, shut up Mag !

P.S. For the CrypticCrosswordically challenged , here is the answer : Main clue = town. Cryptic clue = a path with tea at the end. Path = lane. Tea =T. Lane + T = Lanet . Therefore Clue –theres a path with tea at the end in this town . Answer LANET . Easy kama ndizi !

P. P. S Thanks guys for a great year. Because of you, Magaribina’s World made it past the six-month lifespan it was originally intended to have. I’m still not sure that’s a good thing , though !

Mag in the Big City: Diary of a Celebrity

I have always known I was born to be a celebrity. I first suspected this when one day in Std two, I got to shake the hand of the Head of State. True, it was in a group of kids, and more of a palm-slide than a handshake (my silly detractors claim it was his bodyguard pushing us away) but that was the day I knew I would one day be a star.

Then I found out that my step great-grandmother’s portrait hangs in the Archives in Nairobi, and I knew that not only was I a star, I was a hereditary one. You don’t get that kind of celebrity lineage every day. Paris Hilton and the Kardashians have nothing on me.

So, with all that going for me, I just needed to sit back and wait for my destiny to catch up with me. Long story short , last week I got to be the celebrity that I know I am, thanks to my twitter friends . For three days I was treated like royalty. How is a celebrity , and especially a twitter celebrity treated you ask? Well, take a look at my celeb diary ( soon to be made into a feature story on MTV)

I had the most exclusive accommodation ever.
I understand some minor celeb known in some parts as Jay Zed was in town ( in case you haven’t heard of him , he is a rapper ,about the same age as the rapper that my mum calls Booster Rims ). That guy didn’t get the kind of treatment I got. I wont go into details , because this place is über exclusive , but let me just assure you that for the lucky few that management allows admission, this place ROCKS ! Gosh – I may have said too much already. Suffice to say that I had the best accommodation any celebrity could get

I had an entourage
Seriously. I had my transport guy come pick me up in the wee hours of the morning to whisk me off to the .. oh wait , that’s classified information. Then for the next 3 days I had people with me at every turn . There were the lackeys : transport managers, escort detail , Hugging co-ordinator ( I still insist his job was to limit the number of people I gave a hug to , not to intimidate people into giving me hugs!) Street-crossing personnel (one on each side of me, holding my hand. It had nothing to do with me not knowing how to cross the road – all the real celebrities have them). For security purposes, I could not use my own phone, so I also had Telephone and Twitter lackeys

Also , if you ever get a chance to see the pictures I have of that day, you will see that I had the prerequisite beautiful people hanging around me. You know that no celebrity can be seen out and about with them. Fortunately, I had enough of them- male and female- to satisfy even the most demanding of fans. Of course, just being close to me made them look good ! Oh wait …. that did not quite come out the way I meant it to.

I got lots of gifts
I was showered with presents at every turn. Chocolate , autographed CDs , diaries, you name it . It was crazy how people just seem to want to give me stuff. At one point we went into this shop, and the guy at the counter was so dazzled by my presence in his humble shop that he gave me a free phone charger ! ( true , the guy only lent it to me for a night , and on the condition that I went back the next morning and bought a charger at almost triple its recommended retail price, but let’s not spoil a good story with boring details)

The only down side in this gift-giving business was that some people expected gifts in return. One mad fan in particular went on and on about how I didn’t bring her fish . Fish ? Apparently I was supposed to tie it to the side mirror of my celebrity bus, so I could get it to her still fresh. I really do have some crazy fans !

I had a camera crew following me
Believe it or not , I have a genuine cameraman on my entourage , and he is my official photographer. Unfortunately for me, official photographers have the annoying habit of turning into celebs themselves, so while I was able to have him on the entourage for a while, he quickly had to disappear to get mobbed by his own groupies. Fortunately I had a few amateurs on call, and on the whole part , was able to take enough photographs with my fans to keep them happy. On the whole they did a geat job. But of course there were some issues, which I shall highlight as we go on.

I met fellow celebs.
True story .OK one of them was this young lady called Terror or something. I can’t really tell you what she is famous for, but one of the people on my entourage got so excited about seeing her that I had to remind him quite forcibly that he was MY fan. *sigh* Groupies can be so fickle.

But then I met Makmende ! I kid you not ! (By the way , celebrities are allowed to gush about other celebrities – it just proves that we are human) So , I sent one of my people to talk to his people, and before I knew it we were sharing a corner booth away from prying eyes. It may have been only for 1 ½ minutes or so, but we sat in the SAME BOOTH people! Then I got my camera crew to take a picture of us. So yeah, there is a picture of Makmende amd Magmwende (my new name post Makmende) somewhere in the universe . However – for security reasons you understand – that picture can never see the light of cyberspace. (*sigh*the truth? My cameraman forgot to press ‘save’. Maybe I should havewaited until after I had the picture in my hand before assaulting him Naomi Campbell style *sigh*)

I became a celeb with a cause.
Every celebrity has a charitable cause. ( even Makmende does, but I can’t tell you what his gig is *cough cough * One man Peace-keeping force *cough* ) Well, I found my charitable calling : bringing people together. Because of me, a good number of tweeps who lived in the same city but had never met were able to have tearful meetings all accompanied with fulsome thanks to their favourite celebrity. Something like the talk shows but without all the pizzazz ( I’m a humble down-to-earth celebrity, don’t forget) Not only that, I played Kofi Annan with this set of twins, sat them down together, had a stern yet loving talk with them , and got them to reconcile. Am I amazing or what ? Sadly, I realized that I my various talents do not extend to match-making, but Im still hopeful

Celeb demands.
I must say that I didn’t perform quite as well in this area as I should have . I made lousy demands : Carrot cake ( which I almost had to buy on my own ), Pizza ( which I ended up not getting) and an iphone ( which I’m told is in the mail – I am sure it will soon get here safe and sound). I don’t know whether it was lack of practise, but my groupies did not seem to be very good at taking my demands seriously. For instance, they totally refused to go ask the DJ at this club we were at to play my favourite Kenny Rogers song.

All in all I failed to give a celebrity performance on this end, and for this I apologise to you, my fans, who I know expect much better from me. Even though it goes against my natural character, I will be the brat that you my fans want me to be, becauseI live to please you . As for my entourage, just you wait! I now know my rights, and next time I shall be throwing tantrums as I insist on getting Mariah Carey-like treatment every second.

Celebrity ‘me’ time
You know how it is : every once in a while we hear that a celebrity snuck off on her own just to have some time alone to remember what it felt like to be a nonentity . You don’t? You must be following the wrong celebs then. Well, on day two of my tour, I managed to give my entourage the slip and went out in the big city alone .To save face they are claiming that they had other things – like work – to take care of that day, but we all know that this cannot possibly a genuine reason. Unfortunately , my press detail neglected to inform the paparazzi in time to catch me at it, so I have no pictures.( another instance of me not getting full star celebrity treatment NKT)

I had a specific destination in mind , but I opted to take the scenic route to get there. The scenic route took me from one corner of town to the other and back, but I insist that that was what I meant to do all along. I must say, though , that whoever came up with the concept of revolving streets was brilliant. I mean, one minute I am next to Kencom , headed for 20th Century , and the next moment I find myself at Laico Grand Regency . I didn’t even see the streets move . Absolutely brilliant !

The Celebrity Scandal.
This is a topic that I cannot talk about without tearing up. I was betrayed by my own groupies, people. Someone I thought I could trust . I am still too shocked to write about it. (Also, I still haven’t found somebody who will pay me megabucks to tell the story yet.) Im still debating whether to keep quiet on the whole sordid affair , or to write a tell-all about my difficult experience. I will let you know how it goes.

Well, in summary, those were the adventures of Mag in the big city. Did I enjoy my trip? Undoubtedly. Am I planning on a second trip? You bet! After all I owe it to my fans. They could not possibly be able to survive a whole year without seeing me (Also, nobody in Kisumu seems to get the fact that I am a star). Plus, I did not get to meet some of my biggest fans, and I cannot deprive them of the opportunity to gaze adoringly at me and offer lots and lots of presents. I think I need to make my way to other cities as well, where my fans wait with bated breath to have a glimpse of me in all my celebrityness (or is that celebrityhood?) So, if you want a rare appearance of Magaribina at a city near you, just arrange for a private plane and superstar accommodation, and I will be there. Don’t bother about transport to and from Kisumu airport, though – my bodaboda (bicycle taxi) guy and his mkokoteni(hand cart) buddy have that covered.