I See Dead People

Each day, you open your daily newspaper, you expect to read about the good, the bad and the ugly. And that is exactly what you get when you open the Obituaries pages.

For some reasons, Kenyans have made it habitual to fill daily newspapers with photos of their beloved ones who have sadly, passed on.

The obsession is baffling. Frankly, why isn’t it just enough to place an announcement without having to attach the mugs of persons, at times pictured smiling or laughing or in graduation regalia?

For most Kenyans, the very first time that they see their photos in the daily press is when they are dead! Ahem…

The obituaries also seem to have a standard opening line: It is with humble acceptance of God’s will that we…

Humble acceptance. As opposed to 'arrogant acceptance'? Perhaps non-acceptance.

But surely, once you use the word ‘we’ it is necessary for people to know who ‘we’ refers to. Is it the newspaper? Is it the relatives? Is it Workland? If you expect those who have placed the announcement to indicate who they are, think again.

Instead, what follows is a long list of all the relatives of the deceased. And not just a list of relatives, the announcement won’t be complete if you do not indicate where all these relatives work.

Is the reason places of work are indicated so that those in denial can identify themselves? Is it so that those persons can use the obituary cutting as evidence to get off work?

Sometimes it is embarrassing when someone passes away and you realize from the obituary that he or she had employed most of their relations in the Department they were working in if they were in Government.

Of course, if someone is not in the motherland, it is absolutely necessary to inform everybody where they are. So brackets are placed after the names with clear indications which country that person is residing. Come on.

And then sometimes you read that 'the body will leave the mortuary'. Leave? You can think a Lazarus will happen. No. The cadaver will be removed, surely, without being willing.

If you are thinking that is the last time your mug appears in the press, please just don’t die because there is more. An appreciation message comes a few days after your burial.

So you may be thinking, ‘Why don’t these folks buy ‘Thank You’ cards and write to those that assisted them during the mourning period. Or send text messages to them at a cheaper cost. No way! We have to show that the funeral was graced by some big shot or political heavyweight. And advertise that!

Now, I know that the leading newspaper circulation could be 250,000 people per day. Living people. So how come, one freaking year later, we are putting up anniversary messages and addressing the dead person.

‘You are dearly missed!’

Not even, ‘We, being his wife and children and his creditors, dearly miss him!’

As the First Lady said whilst lambasting Prof. Saitoti for holding séances, dead people cannot be taught a lesson. Similarly, dead people do not read newspapers. Or go online to read the transitions messages.

We might not realize this, but it may be cost effective to simply put an announcement in the classified pages and use the rest of the funds we have been wasting on other things that we have also been wasting our moneys on.

Or if we must really do it, let us have fun whilst at it. After all, an anagram of 'funeral' is 'real fun'. Like saying:

Dad isn't John Darwin. He has not faked his own death. He really really passed away. Gave up his ghost. Reached his sell by date. Thankfully, not by the death penalty. Or that global warming that Al Gore keeps yapping about.

He leaves behind an unmade bed, unwashed utensils, a Giorgio Armani suit and of course, a will.

Following this termination, we intend to bury him. Not to make sure... come on. The interment shall be at room temperature because Dad was so hot. Or at least mum thinks so. There will be a last dance (which he won't participate in, LOL!). We are dead serious, pardon the pun, but he will take up residence at Lang'ata Cemetery without having to worry about rent.

The family of Whispers have fun doing it and even use a caricature of this true Kenyan legend. Now such are obituary messages that I can read.

* with deepest apologies to actual persons depicted above simply for illustration purposes. This blog is in loving memory of a loved one.

Bertil Live

Thanks Sydney. I am not used to holding a microphone in this manner or indeed speaking to a microphone that doesn’t have some three initials such as NTV, KTN, WTF.

WTF is of course the initials of the new TV station that only has shows on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday hence the WTF initials. Or since we have had a wedding, it could be in reference to what weddings are all about: Welcome To Family.

For those of you watching at home, this show is rated 18. Wait, Sydney, this is not LIVE? Damn... I thought I was in the league of Churchill. Oh that isn’t LIVE either.

So Martin and Liz got married today. At about 1.17pm they were declared man and wife. No need for DNA tests. I wish this had been like the inauguration of our cousin Obama Jr. when we could say the marriage took effect from noon.

I liked the fact that they chose not to use the bridal march Here Comes The Bride and went for From This Moment instead. I have never understood why people would sing that during the day, when we all know it should only be sang at night. In their wedding night suite. After all, only the two of them should be able to tell when the bride comes.

I spoke to the couple. They went for counseling. Don’t you just love the way the catechist assumes that all of us are virgins? Come on. It’s just as worse as calling the Kenyan Rugby team ‘The Virgin Boys’. So our dear couple played along. You both deserve the Oscar – a week too soon.

I frankly have no idea about Marto, but studies have shown that most boys in Kenya lose their virginity to mboches. I think when this study was made public, a host of girls didn’t mind turning Beyonce’s song to ‘If I Were A Mboch!’ Dee Jay please…

If I Were a Mboch… even just for a day…

I would roll into bed in the morning..

And throw in whom I wanted …

and go doing it with the guys.

And chase after boys… 

Speaking of whats-her-name.. yes.. Beyonce… any Single Ladies in the house? No, no Liz, you can’t raise your hand anymore. This marriage thing sure takes some time to get used to.

Single Ladies, this is where you are getting it wrong. Beyonce doesn’t point at her hands and say: If You Liked Me You Should Have Put Handcuffs On Me. Listen to the words…

Hopefully soon Beyonce will release another song called Pregnant Ladies. 

If you liked it then you should have put a thing on it…

Don't be mad when you say you have to baby sit… 

So I was asked to give words of advice to the couple. No, don’t laugh. That’s not a joke. I am so hurt.

Those of you who don’t know, I am a divorce lawyer. No one is paying me for being up here, so I may as well slot in that commercial break. Three things I can mention about marriages in Kenya. According to the law, the doors to a wedding ceremony have to be open. The wedding has to be before 6pm. And no.. weddings are not regulated by the Betting Control and Licensing Board.

So irrespective of the result for Martin today, this wasn’t a Ponyoka Na Liz contest.

I used to have a teacher who would start a word and ask us to finish. It is a Kenyan thing. You ask for directions and someone tells you ‘Enda hivi, ukifika hapo kwa nyumba nyekundu, piga ko___?’ And you have to say ‘Kona’. I know someone who said ‘Kofi’ when presented with that ‘Ko___?’ question. Most teachers preferred someone not repeating the fist bit of the hint word so you just complete the word.

Just like Liz completes Martin.

So, knowing my qualifications, I want us to offer this advise to the couple jointly.

For the men here, now that Martin is married, he will be going home to find ugali na su____?

KUMA? Guys… behave. You are such perverts. I ask you to tell Martin what he will find and that is all you think about? You can’t shout that. Langi Langi is a respectable premise. If cops here you shouting KUMA what will they think we are doing here. Jeez.

Ladies only now. By now you know that a marriage is not valid until it is consummated. So to Liz and Martin we say that you must consu_____?

MATE? You ladies are just as perverted as the guys. Your advise is ‘mate?’

I give up. Let me do this advice thing on my own. After all, the preacher said in church that opinions are like (beep)holes. Every one has one. I know, I know.. he didn’t use the exact words. But that was the message.

During the Counseling Classes I bet you Liz asked “How many time a week?” My opinion is twice is nice. But if you are feeling philanthropic and sufficiently charitable to our boy, then you can make it five times a week.

I have read that nowadays, men are the ones who are telling their wives that they are not in the mood. Martin pliz. I beg you. Headache or whatever… you have to when you are required. Frankly, I miss those days when women were women and men were … animals.

You did well today. I see you even crammed the vows. Those of you who don’t know, the couple overruled me when I suggested we call the marriage vows ‘The Audacity of Hope’.

Truth is, we hoped for a good day. We had a great day! It was always going to be great day from the day he proposed to her. Sorry.. but I have to say this. I am actually the one who proposed to her. Martin asked me since I am the wordy wordy one to ask her to marry him. And I went on bended knee and asked her: WILL … YOU …. MARRY… HIM?

Yes, so romantic. And this marriage will succeed. Yes, Liz.. you will succeed. Oh, and that is two words actually. ‘Suck’ and ‘seed’.

Marriage oh marriage. So blissful. A friend of the couple said he had no idea he will feel so trapped. His life was completely taken over. He couldn’t use the kitchen because the mboch was ever there. He couldn’t walk to get the daily newspaper in the morning coz he found it already on the table. What to do? He got man best friend. A dog, just so he could spend time with it and feed it. He fed it only once. The next day, he found the dog was being fed.

Martin wont make the same mistake. After all, Liz, not a dog, is his best friend.

Is my time up? Sydney. OK.. I would like to finally thank all those who made this day succeed (and that is one word). The Wedding Committee, you guys were great. I for one am happy we no longer have to go back to Regional for our meetings. I never saw the fire exits. Actually all I saw was that sign that states ‘IN CASE OF FIRE, SHOUT FIRE!’

Works as efficiently as the sign that says: IN CASE OF FIRE, SING.. THE ROOF! THE ROOF! THE ROOF IS ON FIRE!

To Liz and Martin. Whose only mistake was to invite me to do this skit. May you live and love each other as you have always done.

Such Is Life

I woke up this morning and as I look out of the window, I see some guy on my roof trying to reach for something. I was startled!



'What do you want?!' I screamed. Wishing that very moment that I had a gun.

Nothing. He doesn't respond. Just silence! And he is grinning quite like the cheshire cat.

It took all of three minutes for me to realize that this was actually only a billboard next to my digz.



Advertising the Orange phone network!

Aah. So I forget about the incident but on my way to town... what do I see?



Blow me don! Yes... another billboard!



Come on... now that is what should have been next to my window!



With that tag line of Orange: Together we can do more!



Yes... such is life!

You don't always get the billboard you want next to your house!

Private Parts

Toni Braxton sang a lyric that was on the minds of hot blooded youngsters when in the song You’re Making Me High she started off by stating:

I’ll always think of you
Inside of my private thoughts
I can imagine you
Touching my private parts…

Now… shockingly, that ‘touching my private parts’ sentence looks like it was straight forward but as you can appreciate, if there is something, or anything, trust the Kenyan Courts to end up making a comment about it.

So first, do you remember how this country was before the Michuki Rules took over? Passengers were packed like sardines in the Kenya Buses and as it would sometimes happen, some men were standing behind some women and getting excited when buses hit the potholes and the sleeping policemen aka bumps.

Away from buses, the discotheques were packed with revelers who would swarm the dance floor to get their groove on. With dance-styles that spoke volumes and gyrations that would make some men inevitably rub themselves against women in the pretext that it was Ndombolo…and thinking the ladies were still in the Toni Braxton mood:

The very thought of you
Makes me want to get undressed…
All I want is: moonlights,
With you there inside me…

Inevitably, the question came up. If such misguided men made contact with a woman’s breasts or buttocks, would the woman have a right to go to court and state that the man was guilty of indecent assault?

No less an authority than the Court of Appeal was called upon to adjudicate on this issue in the case of Omambia v Republic.

The accused according to evidence adduced in court, put his hand under a woman’s blouse, also touched her buttocks and even pressed his exposed penis between them. He was charged with indecent assault for touching the woman’s private parts.

The Court of Appeal spend time trying to figure out what the words ‘touching my private parts’ meant!

The Judges sought to know what the word ‘touching’ means. They said that the word ‘touch’ without any particularization, can only be by hand so technically the fact that the accused used his external genital organs to press against the woman was different from touching which can only be by ‘hand.’

Talk about handing out leniency!

Then according to them, breasts and buttocks are not private parts. They even went ahead to quote the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary and limited private parts to mean ‘external genital organs’! In fact, in one telling straight extract from the case, the Judges actually stated: She talked about her buttocks and not her private parts.

Talk about the law being an ass!

You can picture the discussion as the judgment was written.

Judge A: Hey…why stop at ‘pudenda’. Why not ‘labia’ or ‘mons pubis’

Judge B: Am not into the scientific mumbo jumbo. I prefer: ‘Centre spread’ or ‘Honey pot’ or ‘Kandahar’

Judge C: What about the touching bit?

Judge A: Hmmmm. He touched her with his… er… should I say ‘dick’

Judge B: You can also say: ‘Magic Stick’ or ‘Browser’

Judge C: No way. Touch can only be by hand.

I know, I know. The Court of Appeal judges should all get a listing on the entries on Dickipedia.

What the 'L'?

You may have across those vehicles that are on the road with a prominent sign of the letter ‘L’ on them.

This is a Memo to everyone: That does not mean the vehicle is being driven by a Lady or by a person driving like one.

So when Leyonce, a lady friend had recently stopped at a traffic light and the driver of the vehicle behind hooted at her… she switched off her vehicle and went to the window of the (obviously) male driver behind her and told him: My name is Leyonce. But that L on my car does not stand for Leyonce. It means Learner. Can you get that into your thick skull? Am learning. Treat me with kid gloves. Don’t hoot at me and startle me!

I still wonder why she didn’t say: It doesn’t stand for Lifeless, for as you can see I am walking!

Or better still: I am not Lily-livered! Or Laughing stock! Or a Librarian!

Thick skull, huh? That is Leyonce for you. And she was sober.

It got me thinking though. If the L on the vehicle stood for Learner, then who was teaching my friend at the time that she was learning since she was alone in her car?

In fact, I had a glance at the Grey Book and the answer can be found in the Traffic Rules found under the Traffic Act. Rule 12 states that a holder of a provisional driving licence is allowed to drive the vehicle when accompanied by a person who holds a valid driving licence. He or she should also exhibit the L behind and in front of the vehicle as per the Fifth Schedule of the Act.

The Fifth Schedule specifies the measurements of the letter L. The white paper on which it is written should be at least 175 millimetres by 175 millimetres whilst the letter L should be of the width 40 millimetres and in the colour red.

Knowing Leyonce, who is a colourholic (she claims my blue shirts are actually cyan or some colour else like that) like every lady, perhaps hers was in some fancy colour like scarlet.

Incidentally the Traffic Rules have some offences that most people are not aware of. For instance under Rule 66, no passenger is allowed to speak to a driver unless it is necessary to do so in order to ask him to stop the vehicle; or to distribute any printed matter for advertising; or to make excessive noise by singing; or to beg or hawk any item for sale; or to enter the vehicle with a jerrycan of petrol...

I particularly like Regulation 60 which my brother once was caught on: No petrol shall be carried in or on a motor vehicle except in the fuel tank.

So there you have it. The Rules are the Rules. The bottom line is that you can’t be learning if no one is teaching you!

But tell that to Leyonce. She once told an intern she was seriously underpaying: You are a Learner. When you have finished learning, we will take off the L and then you can become an Earner.

If that thick-skulled driver had asked me, a proper retort would have been: Madam, pardon me but for those drivers who aren’t accompanied by an Instructor and have the L sign, the L could stand for: Loony. Or Lawless. Or Liability. Or Lazy. Or Loafer. Or Last. Or Lost. Or Large-ass. Or Leggy. Or Lesbian.

Aah. That lesbian tag would get to Leyonce. She would have kissed him!

The Last Girl

You are…

The last girl
I watched
football with

The last girl
I hugged
on Facebook

The last girl
I texted
on my cellular

The last girl
I dreamt of
last night

The last girl
who moved
my heart so!

The last girl
who ate
chocs fro’ me

The last girl
whose smile
made me melt

The last girl
who made me
write a poem

The last girl
whom I had
coffee with

The last girl
who laughed
at my jokes.

So how come
You are not
Sweetheart

The last girl
I ever kissed
passionately?

The last girl
I danced with
salsa?

The last girl
whose hair
I brushed?

The very last girl
who said
she loved me?

Because…
It just appears
I called off
the search

when I knew
you could be
the last girl
the very last girl

I want
I need
I adore
I crave for…

Will you be
the last girl
for me?

Or are you
still going
to marry him?

COMETH THE HOUR…

“Who will save Kenyans against a powerful, dictatorial, greedy Parliament? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

I heard that on NTV Tonight on 27^th November 2008. Frankly, I think Robert Nagila should stop asking questions and then going ahead to answer them! What is he? Superman? There is no way Nagila is going to save Kenyans against a powerful, dictatorial and greedy Parliament. Not with that accent, which is his trade mark and for a while I thought the use of the initials NTV after his name was some sort of award he was conferred with: Nauseatic Twenging Voice.

That signing off sure sounds hilarious when he has just posed a loaded question. What should we expect next?

‘Who will be the next Kenyan to die due to the rising price of maize meal? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Who will take Kenya to the first World Cup to be held in Africa in 2010? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Is there someone who has not been touched by the plight of the refugees in Darfur? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Who killed Robert Ouko? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Kenyans are now asking: Just whose name is in the Secret Envelope? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘At the end of the vote recount in Starehe Constituency, who will emerge the winner? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Someone is supplying prisoners at Kamiti with high tech laptops. Who is this someone? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

‘Who stole President Moi’s state of the art range Rover from the CMC Garage? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

“This begs the question, ‘Why are most suicides in Kenya committed after 9pm?’ Robert Nagila, NTV!”

‘Who is behind the pirates who are wreaking havoc along the Kenya – Somali shores? Robert Nagila, NTV!’

OK... that last one. It is not really Robert Nagila, who actually has a Group dedicated to him at Facebook. From what I hear, the Somali Pirates asked a professor why he was so rich and successful and he said it was because of the scholarship. Now they are hijacking all ships hoping that one of those ships is MV Schola.