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 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.

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.

Challenged (in more ways than one).

This is a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into. The comments are in, and thanks to those who contributed , I now have less than 36 hours to come up with a post incorporating:

1. Valentine’s Day ( Kellie)
2. Escapades with my significant other (Kalengi)
3. Headless cockroaches (Corvinus)
4. Kisumu (Cherop)
5. The most embarrassing thing to happen to me recently (Bomseh)
6. A conspiracy theory on the Hellon story  (Archer)
7. Makmende (Wainaina)
8. A review of my new year’s resolutions (O-hau)

I am at this point thinking that maybe not having anything to write about wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The good news is that they are less than ten, so i only have to do this once.

I only got one suggestion for a penalty. (Thanks, Cherop) . Seriously, it looks like it would be much easier to just concede defeat and do the time . How hard would it be to just get someone who looks like what everybody imagines I do ,and post a few pics of her with her friends? In fact I could even get a photo online! Wait… did I just write that? Just joking folks… I would not do anything so sneaky and dishonest!

Anyway. let’s see if i can come up with anything by close of business tomorrow. Sigh.

P.S. It just occured to me – this post incorporates all the ideas,so   technically I have already met the challenge. Right? Right? *sigh* OK.. it was worth a shot.

P.P.S.  I really have to ask this : how on earth  does google work? This week alone, people have reached my site by googling:-

• what she really means “you are boring”
• what would you call recruiters in mafia
• baby roaches in laptops

Not that I’m not grateful for that traffic – I am – but, really? That’s how you get to Mag’s place? Eish!

P.P.P.S Am I procrastinating? You betcha! *wink* . OK , back to work. SIGH

Show me the mojo

People – it has happened: I have lost my mojo. It has been two months since I wrote. And today I come to you a broken blogger-wannabe. I have nothing. Zilch. Nada. Hakuna. Onge. Gutire. Shivula.

I can’t believe it has come to this. I always thought that I would go out in a blaze of glory- at least 1000 articles, 1 million hits and too many literary awards to count (not to mention the billions of shillings I would have made and the roads, schools and babies named after me) I was going to be a star, baby! Now look at me … barely even fizzling. This is …. this is ….. (You will have to excuse me for a moment here while I have a one-woman pity party.)

It isn’t that I do not have any ideas; it is just that I keep having bad ideas. Boring ideas. Like the time I started writing about the kamikaze mosquitoes in my hood. Yes, you read that correctly. A whole exposé on how our local mozzies operate in attack cells so deadly they rival those SWAT teams we see on TV. Sigh. Don’t worry – I have already slapped myself on your behalf.

Other times I do have a few interesting thoughts that I think could make for some light entertainment. Like the Valentine’s day post that never was. It might have been interesting to write about why I am not a fan of the day. I was going to regale you with some of my crazy romance stories, like the time my then significant other bought me chocolate .. only he did not seem to realize that this was cooking chocolate. It might have been a half decent post, but I waited so long , it was March before I knew it , and I couldn’t write it without looking a little out of the loop.

February was a bad month for me. For the first time since my brief blogging career began I did not do a single post in a whole month. I want to use the ‘but it was a short month’ excuse, but I can’t see anyone buying it. I actually felt bad about having only one post in January. In fact, I started writing a post which began ‘You didn’t think I would let January pass with just one blog post, did you ?’ Hah ! Famous last words. So when January passed, I thought I would write an apology post in the first week of February. I think I sat staring at the blank Word page for about 30 minutes before I gave up. Then I got the Valentine’s day idea, but dilly dallied so it got consigned to the draft post trash bin.

Then there was the time early this month when I decided to do a post which would be a sort of tribute to the letter M (it was March, I was bored and I had been spending way too much time with a certain tweep whose name begins with an M). It was going to be this nice rambling post. I even had a title for it: “M&Ms plus M- Magaribina’s March Meandaring Madness.’ Don’t laugh. It also had subtitles. I tried for 10 but couldn’t quite make it . Why? Take a look and see for yourself:

1. Mag’s Missing Mojo – self explanatory
2. Making Mountains Move – no idea what I would have written about
3. Militant Mutant Mozzies – the kamikaze story I mentioned above
4. Mass Mouse Murder – a story about my computer mouse
5. Moribund Marathon Musings – no idea
6. Misguided Melancholic Month- an allusion to my thoughts on valentine
7. Mundane Made Mind-numbing – an overview of the post
8. Media Megastar Misguidedness – the Hellon story
9. Miasmal Mental Minefields – absolutely no idea

Don’t worry, I have taken care of it :- another slap has been quickly administered, and both my cheek and my hand are currently tingling (and not in a good way). Honestly, where do I come up with some of these ideas?

So, my dear readers, you can see that desperate times are calling for extreme measures. I obviously cannot be trusted at this time to come up with anything even remotely coherent as a blog topic. This is why I am calling on you for help. I need ideas. I want to do a post next week , incorporating as many of your ideas as possible. I’m thinking of it as a challenge- throw your worst at me. I don’t care if it’s a word, a phrase or even a picture- just bring it on. ( Mental picture: Me striking one of those wrestling poses – flexed muscles, mean face, gravelly voice – just before the guy currently being insulted appears onstage and machismo gives way to abject terror).

If I get up to ten ideas, I will try to use them in this post. If I get more than 10 , I might write a second post, depending on how well the first one goes. Make it as challenging as possible. My only rule is that it has to stay PG13 and cannot be boring (remember the compositions in std 3 ‘my pen, ‘my bag’? I would rather you didn’t).

For the avoidance of doubt (I have been palling around with terro… err… I mean lawyers). I will have to deliver this post by 5p.m. Monday , and can only use the suggestions I will have received by the time I wake up Saturday morning (I’m a slow thinker).

Secondly, I’d like you to come up with a penalty, in case I fail to meet the challenge to your satisfaction. I can’t think of any good penalties that are internet appropriate, but I’m thinking you guys must have a few weird ideas out there. If I pass the challenge, I will select what I think is the craziest idea and….well, hopefully I’ll think of something before Monday. If fail, you the readers get to vote on which was the craziest, and I will then have to perform whatever it is. Again… PG 13, and also I am not giving up anonymity, but other than that do your worst.

Any takers?