Tosha gari!

OK.

Enough already with blogger.

Want to hear more from me?
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(image credit: http://artexchangeafrica.com/shop/index.php?cPath=74_98)

Impossible

Nothing's impossible. But we're allowed to fail. Che Guevara (by way of Jihan El-Tahri)

Difficult takes a day. Impossible takes a week. Jay-Z

Nothing is either [possible or impossible]. It's thinking that makes it so (liberally paraphrased quote of Shakespeare's)

South Africa. Impossible.

Rant(-ish)

I'm cruising blogs (my brain has refused to 'work' for the past couple of days) during work hours, when I come across Aco's post on several things, among them, Hot Ghetto Mess.

Now, I must mention that I finally watched Spike Lee's Bamboozled last night. I couldn't make it thru the whole movie. It had less to do with Mr. Lee's movie-making prowess, and more to do with the content. It was just unbearable and I fast-forwarded through a whole lot of sections.

What was unbearable? That black people actually dressed up like that, danced like that, spoke that dialogue. That there exists such a large number of ... (I know they have a name but it escapes me right now)... curios? depicting black people in those stereo-typical roles of aunt jemima, uncle tom, the 'jolly nigger bank', etc. Let's not even get into the 'art' depicting the african as a savage. I think if a movie were made about that, enough of us would decide we were done turning all our cheeks, and would rise up and...???

So I haven't fully-recovered from the images and the messages of the movie, when I click on links and see a blackface cartoon. I honestly thought I was seeing things. Then I read further and discover BET even had Uncut. Now, I saw that Ludacris video, and would agree with the description that it was "like a car accident you can't look away from".

Isn't it incredible how life imitates art (that has immitated life)?

Honestly, this is too much!

Still on strategy :-)

Good for a laugh, The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord

Presto Chango

(it's times like these when I really wish I would take the time out to migrate my site to wordpress... anywho...)

Game theory and the Princess Bride

Found this (download the clip) on the web while looking for material on game theory. Really must look for the movie this weekend. T'was a classic in my book. The solution in this particular scene taught me that sometimes the answer should be tweaked: from 'a' or 'b', to 'none of the above'.

And such memorable lines!

• "truly you have a dizzying intellect"
• "australia is entirely peopled with criminals"
• "never get involved in a land war in asia"
• "i am no one to be trifled with"

But in the midst of all this... I still can't figure out:

You come to a fork in the road. One path leads to riches and happiness, the other, to death and destruction. Standing at the fork in the road there are two brothers, one always lies, and one always tells the truth. You dont know which brother tells the truth, and which lies. If you could ask only one question, and you have to be sure you are on the right path before you start down the path. What question do you ask the brothers? (click here for answer)

Cafeteria Catholicism

Reading Onyango-Obbo this morning had me agreeing with him. Well, somewhat. He says:

For starters, Mass simply takes too long these days. First the priests ramble on, trying to be funny with stale jokes and struggling to connect with the worshippers. Then laypersons are sometimes allowed to waste more time saying their two cents worth at the end. And the announcements sometimes go on for as long as the service itself.

(looks around in case her mom sees/hears her blaspheming) I know there are plenty of people who view Sundays as a day when you spend all day in church (see case of Nairobi Marathon changing from a more scenic route due to such concerns). The 'Cafeteria Catholic' in me feels extremely aggravated when this happens (entire day spent in church).

I am happy to be at the non-singing mass, 7.30am on Sunday, 'cause it takes precisely an hour. The priest once even apologized for "mentioning the word 'singing' at this mass". And no, it's not a handful of worshipers who feel this way. We fill a good 2/3 of the church. (Yes, yes, during singing mass the church bursts at the seams, but still...). You go in, you do your business, then you "go in peace to love and serve the Lord".

One (of the many) thing(s) I love about Catholicism is the liturgy. You know what's expected, you do it. You sin, you get a 3rd, 4th, 10th chance through confession and pennance (very simplistic version, I know).

Now, why can't certain things just be left well enough alone?

La poesie

Never been much of a fan of poetry. Everytime I read the words "poem/poetry" or hear "recite a poem", my eyes glaze over and my mind tunes out sharpish! It might be because when we had to interpret poems at school, my interpretation was waaay different from the "officially recognized" one.

Must confess though, that the odd piece does slide under the radar to capture my attention and imagination. City Johannesburg by Mongange Wally Serote makes me think not much has changed.
Perhaps it is in poetry that certain timeless truths (we might wish to deny) are captured.

This way I salute you:
My hand pulses to my back trousers pocket
Or into my inner jacket pocket
For my pass, my life,
Jo'burg City.
My hand like a starved snake rears my pockets
For my thin, ever lean wallet,
While my stomach groans a friendly smile to hunger,
Jo'burg City.
My stomach also devours coppers and papers
Don't you know?
Jo'burg City, I salute you;
When I run out, or roar in a bus to you,
I leave behind me, my love,
My comic houses and people, my dongas and my ever whirling dust,
My death
That's so related to me as a wink to the eye.
Jo'burg City
I travel on your black and white and roboted roads
Through your thick iron breath that you inhale
At six in the morning and exhale from five noon.
Jo'burg City
That is the time when I come to you,
When your neon flowers flaunt from your electrical wind,
That is the time when I leave you,
When your neon flowers flaunt their way through the falling darkness
On your cement trees.
And as I go back, to my love,
My dongas, my dust, my people, my death,
Where death lurks in the dark like a blade in the flesh,
I can feel your roots, anchoring your might, my feebleness
In my flesh, in my mind, in my blood, And everything about you says it, That, that is all you need of me.
Jo'burg City, Johannesburg,
Listen when I tell you,
There is no fun, nothing, in it,
When you leave the women and men with such frozen expressions,
Expressions that have tears like furrows of soil erosion,
Jo'burg City, you are dry like death,
Jo'burg City, Johannesburg, Jo'burg City.

Building the nation

The one poem I learnt in high school that continues to echo in my mind is 'building the nation' by henry barlow.

It resonated anew at a private viewing of the documentary "Jo'burg Rising" which premieres tomorrow (Friday) at NuMetro in Hyde Park.

Yep, we're all building the nation, one dream at a time. And props to Sokari who contributed along the arduous path of the documentary conceptualization.

Building the Nation, Henry Barlow (Uganda)
Today I did my share
In building the nation.
I drove a Permanent Secretary
To an important, urgent function
In fact, to a luncheon at the Vic.

The menu reflected its importance
Cold bell beer with small talk,
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice-cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on the return journey.

I drove the Permanent Secretary back.
He yawned many times in back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have any lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not, but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
That amused more than annoyed me,
Mwananchi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state.
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend, it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind.
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!

So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger,
Not sumptuous lunches!

So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation -
- Different ways.

What a girl needs

Just the boost needed early in the morning :-)

After sweating through BBC's "Africa Quiz"

You final Score is 6/8
You just can't buy talent like yours! A magnificent display, if we had a trophy you'd probably win it. Keep polishing that diamond intellect with daily doses of Focus on Africa and Network Africa for next month.

The Life Aquatic (2 of 2)

My 'boss' told stories of his encounters with reef sharks. He'd lived to tell, right? But I really didn't want to have to deal with that adrenaline rush. Ever thankful that I didn't need to. This doesn't mean that there weren't proxies for presence of a terrible predator nearby. I remember Malindi especially. We'd be swimming around counting fish (hey! someone's got to do it) and they'd suddenly disappear behind corals and holes, just.like.that. So you, poor bumbling human, would know something large and scary was around. And that you were currently the most visible bait. Saw a school of jacks. Beautiful (in the same way a poisonous snake is), looking very predatory, and fortunately, not crazy about the flavor of human flesh. Phew! Soon as they passed (as they looked around for the slow fish), the fish re-emerged to continue with their play.
Ran into a couple of moray eels (said to have razor sharp teeth that can bite a finger clean off your hand), and some bonafide poisonous fish. Worst of all was the stone fish. I was so chaffed when I recognized it from amongst the coral rubble! Then the lion fish which was highly visible, inviting you to just come closer... and closer...

Stonefish

Lionfish

It would be terribly remiss of me not to mention the sea urchins. Studied them... at length. (Grinning) never once was I stung/stuck by one. Ever. (Glowering) Did I hear you say wimp? I knew how to get the spines out anyway... should that ever have been an eventuality. Raw pawpaw sap. Cut open a raw pawpaw, or the pawpaw stem, smear the white 'milk' around the spines sticking into your skin. Makes it easier to extract the spines. They're like the deadly Rift Valley tribal clashes arrows: easy to enter, difficult to get out. Raw pawpaw is a 'meat tenderizer'. Honest to goodness. Just go behind Mckinnon market at coast, just past/adjacent to? Somali market, where there are vendors selling greens, mabuyu, achari, mint, mabuyu powder (a great wrinkle exterminator - according to my sister), (nasty) breadfruit, etc. Ask for raw pawpaw - papai mbichi (it's cut to resemble 'tambi' - a ramadhan delicacy), then ask what it's good for.








Sea urchin






Sardine season? Incroyable! Schools of them! The Indian Ocean version of the 'Serengeti migration' and what a sight to behold, in and above water. A streaming silver-blue river, darting here and here, ever onward. And all the fishermen going crazy! You couldn't find enough nets. You'd have to be a pretty exceptional individual (or very single dude - no wife to pressure you) not to go home with any catch during sardine season. Sardines galore! Smoked, dried, fresh, frozen, and I'm sure Wananchi Marine got some canned... (sardine season just about gives BubbaGump compe on the whole 'shcrimp' story).







Sardine hauls and predators



Had forgotten the good side of aquatic life until I met cool diver dude. Now, he's done a whole lot more than I have. Regaled me with tales of seeing a nguva/dugong/mermaid/sea cow/manatee; the best manta ray 'cleaning stations' along the African Indian Ocean coast. How cleaner wrasses have learnt to clean humans too… reminding me of the sergeant majors of Mombasa Marine Park: they hear engines approaching and swim to the surface, nip at exposed parts of you that look like they might be the bread thrown to them by glass bottomed boat operators who want to give their non-swimming clients something to see at the surface. Doesn’t hurt really, just irritating.

Want to experience it all ? Holla kando.

Talk to any East African fisherman, and he'll tell you how indescribably sweet (and medicinal) a dugong's meat is (ditto for turtle flesh). Yes, yes, the dugong is an endangered marine mammal, normally sighted only in Lamu and Bazaruto. Would I eat one? Don't you want to ask me this question when you're standing before me offering up a roast piece of dugong meat (and playing the refrain "only elephants should wear ivory/turtles wear turtle shell")? Otherwise, it'd simply be too academic a question.

The life aquatic. I thirst for it. Been landlocked too darned long.

The Life Aquatic (1 of 2)

Watching Poseidon brought to the fore, memories of a life once spent in the water/at sea. Reminded me that even as I miss the water, and even as I am certified the worst canoe-er and kayaker on earth, nothing weighs more than water, and nothing's more dangerous than life's most essential ingredient. Thrice I can recall doing the total opposite of what I should have in the water, and living to tell. Drinking while canoeing; skivvy dipping, at night, while totally blitzed... lost a watch. Then, in more sober days, following a mother and calf while 'swimming with the dolphins'. Came out the water, read the pamphlet about 'what not to do', and discovered just how lucky I was not to have been attacked. Methinks my guardian angels hand in notice weekly. But on to matters related to a agua.

2004, a 'boxing day' party at coast... lots of folks came thru, lots of alcohol flowed (the barracks should really consider opening up a store during the holidays... especially seeing how enough of Nairobi goes coast... they'd make a heck of a lot more money relying on free-market principles than on the whole have-to-know-someone M.O). Everyone who came in talked of how there were government officials on the beach, warning people off. I figured it was just storos of coasto. I mean, really. What were the odds?

I miss the wonders of the 'underworld'. The beautiful life that prospers beneath the water's surface. My favorite memories? Where do I begin?

• I once found KSh. 100 note next to a Porites head. Gave it to a coxswain who smoked like a chimney.


• Saw a live shell. A black-looking cowrie shell, until the mantle opened up a little to reveal a pristine white shell. Devine.


• Experiencing the tide come in at a 'mlango'. Used to be my favorite workout. [I may just end up one of those "old white ladies" reputed to swim at least 2kms daily in the ocean... Neptune to Public Beach]. I'd wait for the turn of the tide, get thrown against giant Porites heads as I tried to swimming 'upstream' to the boat. My favorite coxswain (man with the most gorgeous legs I have encountered thus far [that's a long-ass time, people, though I live in hope of catching a glimpse of Eto's powerful legs during 2010 :-D (was too slow to do it a couple of weeks ago when Barca played the Sundowns)] and it ain't easy going out to sea with a sculpted man dressed in shorts only, everyday, and maintain sura ya kazi while mentally melting down) would occasionally have some mercy, work those twin 40HP outboard engines to come get me. Those same engines would do 8 minutes from Public Beach to the 'coral gardens'. La puissance des moteurs? My absolute favorite thing on the water.

Tanga, 1995. Stayed at a place owned by a boer married to a KC from Kericho. Last I asked, the boer had died from cerebral malaria, the KC had returned to Kericho. Aquatic life has it's downsides as well.

TZ was still emerging from 'hamna' being the standard response to every commodity-related question. Someone in the neighborhood at which we stayed kept cows. Honestly, to tell Kenyans, biological and naturalized, that they had to have tea bila milk was just not on! My pointless about Tanga again? Oh yeah. The damage wrought by dynamite fishing.

Had spent time cruising the protected coral reefs of Kisite (go catch them now, before TIOMIN screws them up for several lifetimes!), Mombasa, Watamu, and Malindi. Never quite made it up to Lamu (Kiunga), then. Beautiful, protected, different levels of diversity. Diani and Kanamai were the coral deserts in my mind. Clearly, none of them prepared me for the craters of dynamite fished parts of Tanga. We'd swim up a ridge, crossing fire corals (and aptly named they are... they 'burn'/irritate the naked skin) and then look over into... a crater. Nothing but utter desolation, furrowed sand, flattened and dead coral. Right next to a coral garden. Of course we'd wonder why anyone would do this to God's ocean. Never thinking of it from the perspective of the dynamite 'fishermen'.

They were said to get dynamite from construction sites... maybe something quarry/army-related? They'd light the sticks, then toss them out their outriggers. If their estimate was correct, and the dynamite did not discharge prematurely (amputating limbs and cabecas), they would blow up an entire coral reef, and fish would float onto the water's surface. Their work? Be ballsy enough to deal with the risk of premature detonation, and then collect the fish floating on the surface. Zenith of efficiency. Unfortunately, not of sustainability.

There were also these tiny see-thru, jelly-fish-like creatures. Could fit in my doubled fists (had to 'experience for myself'). Everywhere. They were ultra-cool 'cause they had strobe lights in them. Flashing different shades of red. Only reservation was that they might just could sting. Can't remember if I got stung.

The one thing I was uber-thankful for? That I did not come face-to-face with a reef shark. Ok. Let me explain. Kenya's north coast has a fringing reef. 1 km away from shore. It makes that lagoon a lot safer than it would otherwise be (Durban isn't. They put out shark nets to protect the surfers. The Red Sea isn't as safe. Have you forgotten that the 'Horn of Africa' is where Greek captains 'offload' stowaways?) Next time you're at coast, take note of where you see the white surf of cresting waves. That's where the fringing reef is. This means that it's usually (relatively) small-sized sharks that get into the lagoon. Have I mentioned that we also have a 4m tidal amplitude. i.e. the distance between low and high tide (averaged out) is 4 m. Sharks will usually be present (in the lagoon) when that tide is high. Please note though, that like anything in the world, these are not 'rules' written in stone. Plenty of exceptional circumstances. The places you usually hear of shark attacks around coast, are sides of Likoni (victims are rushed to Pandya Hospital). 'Cause there's a natural break in this reef wall. Allows ships in (Likoni: natural harbor). Sharks follow ships. Might could it be because of all the junk tossed out the ships? I'm one of those people who doesn't weep about the supposed demise of sharks (fins for soup trade) or crocodiles. Happy to have a world with one less predator (of any kind). We'll engineer our way out the fallout later.