EMOTIONAL DISCOURSE

I'm trapped in a glass case of emotion.
My mind is a vine of confusion and muse distortion. Maybe I'm a little psychotic but I know that despite the despair I exude, I 'm  optimistic, a roving feline, or as Romeo and Juliet, I believe in destiny. Sure they both die at the end but who said a babboon can't enjoy some wind beating against the red anus even when it's red and ugly as fuck.

In the never ending quest to make it, I realised damn it! I'm too serious. Hell, I even make the name serious frown at me like 'seriously?' (He he that's my laughable attempt at modern day lingua). Also, its raining, our houses are flooding. Better wake up with a smile as we scoop these waters in our plates, cups and spoons as we break into a unanimous 'Count your blessings' chorus, washing the water down to a farmer who truth be told looks out of place in Nairobi. He already has enough blessings, but who said you can't stock 'em? Then, go to work where my boss will probably shout at me with some vibes and rhymes that will make Eminem sound silly and uneducated and make Kanye's philosophical rants sound like gibberish a madman would say before disappearing down a hallway into their rooms in a mental institution. Also I think Kanye and Eminem are the best rappers ever, alongside Khaligraph and Kalamashaka crew (Johnny Vigeti, Roba and that third guy whose name I can't remember to recall), and Zaka na Kah and every single member of Ukoo Flani Mau Mau. If you are not here its not personal, its professional.

I bet insanity is taking over me slowly, like how a malignant cancer just fucks you up one Monday morning when you are singing 'Singing in the shower' in the shower. But atleast I get to experience the descent to insanity instead of having it bludgeon me down to the dregs of normalcy one Sunday afternoon as I listen to Esther Wahome on my Hi-Fi, or to Bahati lament in each of his tracks (No hate).

It takes a lot to look at life, and not stare at the harsh reality. No seriously. Fuck reality! I want to live in this blissful world of my dreams, where I am a caveman with intellect and a prisoner with no dilemma. A world where I am the most important cog holding humanity together. A world whereby I'm the go-to guy, without whom the world would be using spoons to fetch water and...wait, we actually do that. I mean, who wants to know that they are insignificant and their presence in the world is only mildly consequential? Not useless, just not entirely as useful as we believe. Seriously, to hell with that. I am the man of men. The reason I was born is because humanity needs me, needs me like a Jay needs a Beyonce, or a Beyonce needs a lemonade (sorry I could not control myself. Just had to use it). Without me, guys would just be stumbling around, being insignificant and shit. Me, I'm the shit... I carry my own tissue paper to wipe other shits* with.

So I woke up today and thought 'Wait a minute. Sitting around and staring at the cold hard facts just depresses me.' So I decided I'm going to avert my eyes from reality and flutter my eyelids at fantasy and daydream. I had a connection with them once but we lost touch (poor them. They must have been so lost without me). My primary school Math teacher was harsh, but my crush was not. She was hot. So I stared at her during Math lessons to lessen the discomfiture of sitting through two whole hours of pure numerical grinds and nothing else. Also I thought she smiled at me once but I'm not sure. It looked like a cross between a grimace and an oh-God-get-me-out-of-here-sneer. But who said a man can't dream. She probably thought she was still a virgin but I took it away from her in my wet dreams. Also I know she liked me she just didn't want to show it. Well keep playing hardball girl, me and my significant self won't be hanging around forever. Take advantage of me while the offer lasts, otherwise you lose me, you lose a very key part of humanity. What is that you say? That I ain't that important? Please refer to previous paragraph because you are reading too hard. As you do that, I will be on my way to Bahamas, or Mathare, depending on how much I'm willing to save.

Anyway, the path to insanity isn't that bad at all, trust me. Despite what movies tell you, there is no axe-murdering. Insane people don't Jason Vorhees the hell out of people. I don't even own an axe to begin with. And a mask, I don't have that too. And also I don't have the name Jason, much as I would wish to. The transition is just a smooth segue. One minute you are er-okay. The next minute, you are flipping birds to everyone. When you are not flipping those birds, then you are holding them captive when someone flips you some. Also, you begin to think you are flying when you are just high, forgetting that being high is different from flying. Also, if I said high, and you thought 'drugs', you are the insane one.
Seriously, being delusional is healthy. Science backs up on me pretty hard. Wait, what? That didn't sound right. I meant to say, Science backs me up pretty hard. Phewks.

From The Confused Musings of Kiraka D. Mugatsia: Thought Chronicles

JULES AND THE MUSICAL LEGACY HE LEFT

Tribute

There is nothing quite as destructive and fascinating as death. Yet there is nothing that puts our mortality into perspective than the death of someone so colossal that they seemed un-human. People who  were born doing their art while the rest of us mere mortals waddled on for another five or six years, throwing tantrums as they became the forces we fawn over and revere in unceasing awe and gape. The sudden passing of Papa Wemba is what has prompted me to pen this article to celebrate an artist that we will marvel and gawk at for decades on end, as we still do Franko and Madilu System.

Papa Wemba collapsed in his chosen battlefield, the stage, early Sunday morning, 24th April 2016, at the FEMUA music festival in Abidjan, Ivory Coast and died on his way to hospital. If ever there was need for proof that death has a sense of dramatic irony, this certainly must have been it.

While I wouldn't want to pander about by claiming to be a 'big fan' of Papa or go in lengths about how his music inspired me blah blah blah, let me say that I grew up listening to the Soukous music or Congolese Rhumba by default, never by choice. My old man is a great fan of such so it was only natural that these were the songs we had to listen to whenever my father happened to prefer the great indoors. Listening to his razor-sharp singing voice, then to the heavy, paternal drawls of Franko Luambo and Madilu System, brought a dawn on me on just why they are revered by the generations of our fathers. 

They showed mastery of the art, successful not just in the commerce of it but in the mastery of tools of trade. Wemba is one of the Lingala artists I have grown to enjoy listening to (the others being Franko, Madilu System, and Pepe Kalle (R.I.P all). Whether it's the strong and danceable beats, his high-pitched voice or the beauty of the Lingala language, there is just something about Papa Wemba that made me listen whenever he hit the booth. Those times were few, but I cherish the songs I have listened from Papa with astounding passion.

A legendary journey that started in 1969, with the formation of Zaiko Langa Langa band, Papa Wemba's talent saw the band hit popular heights in the mid-seventies, and in a country that had the likes of the late colossus Franko and his iconic TP OK Jazz Band and the late Tabu Ley Roshereau and his Afrisa band, that is quite something. It needs something special to nestle yourself among greats, and Papa did just that so soon after getting into the music scene, cementing his legacy not long after.

I will forever remember him for the smooth guitar strums of 'Yolele' and 'Show Me The Way', and the soothing, slow tempo of 'Ye Te Oh', on which he featured French singer and actress Ophelie Winter, and for his high-pitched voice. Just as he joined fellow legends in this churned-up stretchy scape of music and fame and became a legend, so has he now joined them in strumming harps in the Heavens. The legend continues, indeed.

Rest in peace Jules Shungu Wembadio Pene Kikumba aka Papa Wemba. We will see you someday.

June 14th, 1949 - April 24th, 2016

Is This The Turn of Kenyan Sports or Just a Fleeting Wonder

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What a terrific fortnight! These are some of those so incredibly great periods that make one don pride of being Kenyan with a wholesome embrace and a matching sheepish and optimistic grin.

From Harambee Starlets' swim through adversity to Women's Afcon to The Rugby Sevens Team, Shujaa, winning a rugby series main title for the first time in 114 tries. In the euphoria that comes with moments like this, it is tempting to get lost in the moment but I choose not to. I'm a cynic that celebrates with a smile and perhaps a five minute jiggle, so, after trying to hold it in, I finally lay it all out. What does the women's football achievement and Shujaa's Singapore Sevens win signify for the respective sports?

Starlets, in current state have no future

Let's start with the Starlets history making appearance in The Women's Continental showpiece to be held in November. The replay at Kasarani was nothing short of spectacular. That they eliminated Algeria, one of Africa's football powerhouses just iced the cake, which yes, we want to have and eat, and maybe even binge on. But a lack of proper structures means that this showing is more likely to be a one-off. Kenya has no proper women's league and no women's youth team. While football administration in Kenyan football has been poor, management in the women's side has been incomparably mediocre, so dismal that it can only be compared to itself, and that's saying something. The current team slept in lodges and cooked for themselves using firewood while in camp ( anyone who has used firewood knows how tolerable they aren't). The players allowances have been delayed more than a few times, the only surprise being when they are actually paid, let alone on time. Meanwhile, their under-performing male counterparts, who slept in five-star hotels and were paid handsomely, conspired to lose their most important games to ensure that they won't make it to the next years event, as has been the case since their last Afcon appearance in 2004. However, we should lay down proper foundations to ensure that this glorious moment is not just left at the mercy of history. Our women have shown that our negligence is not deterrent to their spirit and we should use that to build the sport to world class standard. The spirit is there. The desire to succeed stands us in good stride too. The dream is not far off either. Let's use these to build a reality and make this historic moment a regular event. Hell, maybe it can get our girlfriends interested in the sport. Win - win everyone. Right?

Rugby Sevens has a future
Need I repeat the memorable howl from the commentator, said in typical Mzungu twang fashion: A youu! A youu! (Oyoo). It was a moment that captivated and united  a nation still struggling with ghosts of hostile and negative ethnicity. With the winning of gold a foregone conclusion in long-distance running, this rarefied win in Rugby provided fresh air and opened us up to new possibilities on what our sportspeople could do if just given the right push. It also lent corroboration to the argument that Kenyan coaches are just as good as any other professional coaches from outside the country we so often are guilty of fawning over. We won this title with Benjamin Ayimba, after a gamble with Mike Friday and Paul Treu. Who's the genius now? (No offence to Mike and Paul). And with the like of Oyoo (A you) and Wanyama, there is reason to believe that the future prospects are just as hot as the veterans (No homo). And also, seriously, I believe its about time our local television stations took to airing the Kenya Cup, the rugby fifteen league. That is the belly of our rugby. Watching them will add meat to the bones we are currently wielding in celebration. Can you imagine the pride and arrogance you will exude when talking to a foreigner about our rugby league? Just name dropping players like they are hot ( again, no homo). Okay, might as well stop using hot altogether, sorry.

Meanwhile, the reality of the matter is that a majority of Kenya's populace is footballcentric. Harambee Stars might crawl into a sewer, wallow in the murks and emerge a stinking mess of human regret but will always be revered and forgiven. But hey, can't have your cake and eat it huh? Well, it seems like the football team can keep the cake as the Starlets and Shujaa keep the wins. Also, holy shit! Harambee Stars under 20 (men obviously. Women have no under 20) risks a ban from CAF for fielding ineligible players.
The saga continues ...
But tribute to the Starlets and Shujaa sevens team for their historic milestone. They deserve every incentives and celebration that comes their way. And whatever happens at the women's Afcon in November, there is no doubt that the ladies are champions in more ways than one.

WHY DO WE CHEAT IN RELATIONSHIPS?

So goes the million dollar question. But is the question as complex as we make it or is it so easy to answer that we would rather not admit it?

With the rise in HIV infections in marriages, most of us have really found a legitimate ground to question the sanity of marriage. With more people in the life-long commitment getting into the mpango wa kando (clandestine relationships) phenomenon, it seems as though getting married now acts as a front to hide the cesspit of sexual decadence many would wish to keep secret. But why? Why would we commit to someone only to turn on them faster than Flash on a free ride down a slope? How bad could they have gotten since the first time we saw them?

'Relationship experts' have tried answering the question so many times but it seems they too perhaps think too much. For anyone who has ever been in a relationship, one can attest that when caught eating from the wrong plate, there is no shortage of a myriad of reasons. My spouse didn't do this or that, my marriage has lost taste, sex with my wife/husband is boring and so many more flimsy excuses that usually make you want to slap someone. Which brings me to the topic - why do we cheat?

Answer : because we can. And we all know that. Any reason given when the caught is only but an excuse. Cheating happens because there is choice. While cultural inertia, upbringing, personality e.t.c do play a part, at the end of the day, the choice is what determines the action.  And there is no easier action to take when the marriage hits the rocks than to seek solace elsewhere. It's the easy way out and most of us  appreciate an easier route if it will help us get what we want( which is why we cheat in exams too. I'm guilty of this one, sorry).

Relationships are hard work, even if you are Romeo and Julliet, and committing single-mindedly to that one person you chose (choice again!) is even harder. How to succeed in relationships and marriages is no different from how to succeed in any other field. It's success you seek after all. While the area of application may be different, the tips to succeed are all from the same copy book - hard work, persistence, re-invention e.t.c.

There is not a list of things that make people cheat. People cheat because cheating and choosing to cheat exist and unless a study shows it's actually a mental disease, its something that we can all do, if we choose to that is. And remaining faithful is a choice too.

You can read more of this here

Photo : courtesy

WHY FIVE SHOULD BE LAST FOR MESSI

The greatest ever? That is the feeling here. While critics may find fault in the lack of a World Cup in his trophy cabinet, there is no denying that Lionel Messi has dominated the modern game in ways no one else has and no one else might.

When he claimed a debut win of the prized individual award in Zurich on a cold evening on December 1st in 2009, few would have expected the unprecedented run of three more successive wins that followed. At twenty two then, Messi had shown great promise to earn the monicker 'one of the best of his generation' yet, when he claimed his fifth Ballon d'or on Monday the 11th 2016, it has set tongues rolling, further putting to boil the debate of whether he is the greatest of the sport or merely one of the hallmarks.

For Messi though, the debates are pointless, as, by his own admission, he would trade the five of them for a World Cup. But Messi should have no doubts, he is defining an era in ways no other player has and in winning the fifth Ballon d'or, a milestone in a game that has seen Edison Arantes (Pele), Diego Maradonna, Johan Cruyff, Michel Platini and more, Messi has shown he belongs to the class of the elite; a legend, a collosus and and an eternal footprint. It is this that should make him consider handing his future Ballon d'Or wins to an up coming player.

A truth that will hold is that, as long as Messi keeps his mercurial performances constantly mercurial, not even the excellent human in second will come close to claiming the Ballon d'Or. Cristiano Ronaldo does his best, and at his best he is in his own league, yet even he, the supposed rival to Messi, has been left nipping at his heels not only in Ballon d'Or wins but also in trophies won throughout their respective careers.

Messi is great, and he knows that. Which is why he should maybe consider turning down future Ballon d'Or wins. It is not so as to be 'a good person' or to hand a platform on a silver plata to new players but as an acknowledgement of his own status. Truth is, very few players at their best can match Messi at his best. This then leaves their chances of winning the Ballon d'Or at almost nill, just ask Manuel Neuer, probably the best keeper of his generation and the best player of 2010 in many people's eyes. There comes a time when turning down plaudits, after receiving many similar ones in the past, is a show of greatness. For Messi, his own incredible path has already outlived him. Alongside Cristiano, these two have shattered virtually all scoring records in football. Messi has won the Golden ball five times. He should consider handing away his future win so as to give newer players an opportunity to try and wrestle the title. It is highly dubious that they will succeed, but even if they do, Messi's status as an icon cannot be rubbed off. He is a landmark in modern football. We need more like him, but we can't have them if his shadow looms over them like a dark cloud.

Photo : m.heraldscotland.com/sport

THE MENTAL SHIFT OF THE TURN OF A CALENDER

Hi there beautiful people. Sorry for the lengthened silence. Lets just say the holidays got me. I hope they have been nothing short of breathtaking on your end. But anyway, I have crawled back from the self-imposed silence exile and as usual have emerged with a thought nurtured by my time in darkness. Why is it that a new year elicits so much excitement and hope despite the fact that it is only a flip of a calender?

All the trite of new year resoultions, higher expectations. Is the dawn of the 1st of January really a cause for celebration or just a façade of new beginnings with hardly any newness to it?

Whichever way one looks at it, the new year is bound to always elicit some freshness and jubilation in any one human and alive enough to experience it, even to cynics and skeptics like me. There is always a certain mystic and charm of a fresh year that goes just beyond the flip of the calender. A new year is like a new day - it offers its own unique enigma and with so many days ahead, offers us a chance to make it.

While the act of flipping over the calender is a simple one, the shift of attitude and character that we so often wish to carry over to the new year certainly requires more than a desire or wish. Just like how you plan your day ahead, making plans for the new year late in the year preceding is vital. This not only enables you curve ways to achieve the intended targets, it also allows you time to go through the targets and correct them where neccesary or be more specific with what you want to achieve as well as laying the concrete plans on how you want to achieve it.

The reason many new year resolutions fail before even day two is usually because most are made on a whim, a moment's spark based on a previous or maybe recurrent desire. Just because you have been wanting to do something doesn't mean your brain will automatically respond to the sudden wish to change momentum. The brain is a little bastard. It loves status quo. Unless change is introduced slowly until it settles into rythm, it will always reject whatever we wish to impose. That is why it is said 'Practice makes perfect'. The tiny goo that is our brain often needs a little firm prodding so as to get off that lazy ass we so often allow it to slump into.

Another reason they fail miserably on their belly is because we so often want to do them all at once. Multi-tasking, they say. Well, multi-tasking lowers productivity. Confusing the brain on what to do means you never concentrate on a single task hence never complete it and if you do complete it, then it's not well done. The best way to finish tasks is to do them one by one, in order of priorities. Hard, but doable. Offer your full keenness on one task and do it well. The results will be stupendous. But like everything, the brain will need conditioning through consistency to pick this up too.

A new year is like a fresh page - it offers you an empty space to fill. But just because space is there doesn't translate then to a sudden influx of knowledge on what to do with it. You will need to give your brain what to work with beforehand and you will need to have lain down an outline, even if it is just in your head for a start. Have a silhouette so as you know how to draw the body. Striking blindly is what leads to burn out and loss of motivation hence leaving most of us feeling dreary and jaded by February. An outline is a motivation on itself with the other being a vision of who we want to be.

A new year resolution is never the solution anyway. True, it offers a 'a new possibility' but as a writer, I know a fresh page doesn't automatically translate to the thoughts being any kinder. Often times, as long as the idea is there, a  firm push is all it needs, a little grit. It's all in the head. Your desire and mentality determine your actions. You want change, you start to work on it as soon as possible. It doesn't matter what. A change could happen on March 23rd or on December 28th. It could happen within the year you wish it to or it could carry on into the succeeding year. The thing is not to expect miracles just because we desire or just because we have faith. Action. That's all it takes. The first step is the most important. And the first step is to realise you don't need a new year to make a change. Start now. There isn't much time.

THE PROBLEM OF WE, MEN

In this new world, men have come under criticism from the womenfolk for being tad a bit too soft or unmanly. It seems to be true even as we remain impassioned to the claim and we ought to take action because there is cause for concern that the views by our women are true.

It is pertinent that we stop blaming feminism for our failed masculinity. Women are not to blame. We, men, are the culpable party.

Following ground breaking progress that we have witnessed and even been part of in the past two or three decades, and with a projection of even greater strides ahead, it is unfortunate that we still insist on raising our boys the same way our grandfathers' grandfathers were raised. In that era of yore, it was definitly encouraged right from birth that bossing women was not just a choice but nature. Afterall women then were viewed as discounts of humanity. It was easier to get women to do things for you by either shouting, demeaning or even beating her. In fact the latter was encouraged and perpetuated by inaction against the offenders. And the women then knew no better, taking it wholeheartedly.

Between then and now, however, there has been a paradigm shift in policies and values, in views and beliefs and in reason and behaviour. Women have learnt to stand up and fight for their rights. For the right to be treated, not as equal to men, but in a fair manner as productive and important members of society. The modern woman today is independent, vocal, visionary, educated, enlightened, empowered. She epitomises the strides humanity has made. However, the trouble is that we have remained relatively left behind as men.  The seismic shift seems like a gaping hole we somehow glided over blindfolded, in our partriachial parachutes.

Feminism is not the death of masculinity. Indeed we should see it as a compliment to us. It has exposed the shortfalls of the partriachial, male chauvanistic society from whose perilous grasps we have emerged. Hitherto, men have been used to being unchallenged. Whether deserving or not, honour was bestowed unto us by virtue of our sex. We were fathers but never raised the child(ren). Some of us were lazy yet slept well fed. We beat women but suffered no consequence. The meteoric rise of women has caught us flat footed. Reason is that, while many older women have been at task trying to raise girls above the shackles of a traditional society, the older of us have remained nonplussed, foolishly believing that the tradition serves us well. There are few, if at all any, mentorship programmes for young boys on how to be and act in this modern world, especially on how to handle the modern woman. As before, we seem to expect our boys to totter and stumble about and somehow find their way somewhere along the way. Don't cite examples of how you turned out fine yet you blundered your way blindly to adulthood. Chances are, most of us aren't even as well adjusted as we would like to believe or deceive ourselves. How would it feel to marry a woman who earns more than you? What do you think of a man that earns less than his wife? We feel threatened by women who earn more, hold higher positions than us. Yet we shouldn't be. A woman will always want a man that leads no matter her position in her career. Unfortunately, there is not many of us out here who can wrest the initiative. We want things delivered at our feet like before yet all that is gone. More and more women are beginning to earn more than us and there is no reversal. 

It is no secret and if it is then it is a well known one. We need to change how we raise our boys now. The reason women bemoan men of today is because we have remained in yesterday. As a man raised 'the traditional' way, when you meet a woman who challenges you, your whole world is thrown upside down, like your whole universe has crossed dimensions into another existance. So you try and impose your ways on her only to find her unwilling to baulk at your force. Truth is women have never been okay with the brawl. It was fear that kept them quiet all those years. Now they are more enlightened, empowered and dare I say, better than the women of yesterday. It is time we began raising our boys and mentoring our young men on how to embrace responsibility and the new dawn of femininity. Most of us men were raised badly. Many of us were not raised but just staggered into adulthood without attaining maturity. It is difficult to change the monkey of old. Instead why not the mature of us begin to mentor boys to be men. Real men.

For us to shed this tag of 'modern men are weak', we need to begin by raising responsible boys, boys capable of being men, men capable of handling the modern woman, a woman who does not look to be completed but rather, to be complemented. For us to pay them the complements that will make them swoon, we need to be on the same page as them.  Lets start now. Its urgent!

On an unrelated note: congragulations Konzolo for the birth of your son, Ambuzi. May you raise him to be a Real Man.