MOST WANTED

In the hood, you can see my portraits on the street walls and the poles of electricity, sometimes even on the trees. It’s like every other corner I take they speak of me, in the salons, in the barber shops, in the ghetto, in the suburbs I’m most wanted, I’m a fugitive. In the local precincts of the northern as well as of the southern parts I’m listed as a missing person but I don’t want to be found. The women sought after me the most, some of them hot some of them not. They pray to see me in their dreams, some that I may fall straight from heaven into their world. They send me tons of letters and write about me in their journals, they say “Mr. Right, where are you hiding? Come rock my world, marry me! I won’t quit waiting for you”. Now that’s sweet, but I’m just one guy. Shall I clone myself? But thankfully, I have imposters claiming to be me, I appreciate that. They wear a mask and try to walk like me. They buy new clothes but it just won’t change them. Act smart, but their swag ain’t like mine. I feel sorry for the women who fall victim, but I can only belong to one of you at a time.

You may say; Mr. Right, you are not fair! Why are you hiding when we need you? You are like the love Superman, the Spiderman of romance, come save us before it’s too late, before sexy becomes extinct! I brought sexy back once; a guy named Justin Timberlake took all the credit for it. He fooled many ladies into thinking he was me. I don’t think the ladies fell for his cheap imitation of me that much; it’s Jason Derulo who is pulling it off. Back to why I’m hiding, it’s why they call me Mr. Right. I don’t fight, I love. I don’t break beautiful young girl’s hearts, I don’t lie, I don’t cheat, I’ll be there when you need me, I will listen, I will hold you, I will wipe off your tears, I will make the most passionate love to you, I will kiss you, I will tell you that I love you, I will hold your hands when you want me to without you having to tell me, I will let you watch your soaps, I will surpass your expectations, that is why I hide! I hide to protect you from a heartache, please wait ‘til your turn comes, if it comes. I beg of you to be patient, I hate to see you waste your love on dudes who don’t deserve it!

I’m immortal, I will always be here. My heart is unbreakable, I’ll be exactly who you want me to be. I’m tall and dark, I’m handsome. I have brown eyes and a long nose. I work out so I have a cute six pack and huge biceps (and you know what else). I’m black, and Latino. I’m short. I’m intelligent; I have a fat bank account. I’m white and I have green eyes. I’m funny; I can have you giggling like a pig! I’m Chris Rock, I’m Russell Peters, see? You have nothing to worry about; I will pass by your life at one time even if I don’t get to marry you. We don’t always get what we want, I was given this world but I didn’t make it. I received all your lovely letters, all of them from since you were a teen. I try to read all of them. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to reply to any of them, my boss cupid won’t let me have time for myself, always has me on an assignment, but I hope reading this helps to ease your frustration in your quest to finding me. You don’t have to search for me; I will find you, sweetheart.

Message To The Fellas: You can’t cramp my style you bastards, the sooner you learn that the better! Ask Cassanova, little punk forgot who the immortal one is. Tarnished my name the most, look where he’s at now! What’s wrong, you can’t come up with your own swag? Using your name, ain’t your name good enough? I’m only proud of one man so far- Romeo! He’s the one I’d wish to be. Taking his life for love, so deep! I witnessed it with my own eyes. Michael Jackson stole my line- I’m not a fighter I’m a lover. He went ahead to shamelessly make it a song! Look, I don’t mean to be harsh on you. I’m just saying get your own act! Phew. My shrink was right; I feel better having let it all out!

VICES AND VERSA'S

It’s never my intention to either directly or indirectly reveal the nature of my character in this blog but sometimes it just doesn’t seem like such a big deal. This is one of those times and as I’m writing this I’m hearing a voice in my head echoing the words- write now, regret later. That doesn’t make sense to me now but let’s give it time and see if I will comprehend the meaning. Hear from you later, voice, I’m getting down to writing it!

If I haven’t mentioned it on this blog before then it done took me a long time to announce it to you that I used to have a bad temper, but thank God it’s in the past now although Brenda doesn’t want to believe that. As skinny as I am it was only for my own good that I took care of my always very justified but exaggerated anger. My poor sister (not Emily, the other one- Norah) did fall victim of my wrath one too many times during the time when I used to get attacked with those spells of uncontrollable anger. Please note that this was a fairly long time ago, back when I was a teenager, so please don’t judge. That was that. Oh, you wonder who Brenda is? I know who she is but it’s complicated who she is to me, you understand? That’s another story.

Now, a little advice to sinners out there, I’m sure that pretty much covers everyone. I, having gone through and tried a variety of vices, can confidently tell you that you can posses any number of them you want but please be sure that once you have chosen to have bad-temperedness then skip impatience and vice-versa (ha ha, VICE-versa, these words have a way of coming back to me). Bad-temperedness is even too strong a word, let’s just say anger. It’s funny, I can patiently wait four years until I graduate, I somehow can patiently wait until when I make my first million, I can even patiently wait for Friday to come but I CANNOT patiently wait queuing to be served in a bank! My mom sent me to pay the electricity bill one day, I went back home with the money because the queue was too long, little did I know that that very day was the deadline. Mom had to go back and make the payment by herself :( ! I am not proud of that, mom was so mad she refused to even let me go back for her. So if you want to meet me somewhere, don’t keep me waiting for too long or you will be more than disappointed. This leads me to what happened yesterday, which is sadly something that has happened with me several times before. A case of same script, different cast but same star- me.

See, I’m impatient like that. Remember that female from the bus? Let’s name her Mary. She turned out to be a very interesting person. It made me think that sometimes we are just uptight for nothing; good things do sometimes happen outside the boundary of our principles, like in this case talking to strangers and even calling them on the phone. This may be true but don't take my word for it, I will not be responsible for any loss or damage you incur for taking heed to my word. Please, do this at your own risk. Anyway, the only time I have free during weekdays is home time- time when I go home in the evenings; she had been out of town all week, she came back yesterday so we planned to meet… at home-time o’clock. I do my routine and the time comes, I make that call and she no go pick her phone oh! I de try again ten minutes later and still nothing, anoda ten minutes and still notsing! Then the fourth time she picks up. I try to talk but she just won’t quit saying “halloooo?” Then she puts me on hold. I hang up and call again; I make sure she hears me clearly so I ask “Can you hear me clearly?” She says yes. Then I’m put on hold. ****! I had been waiting for about twenty minutes and she puts me on hold? Furious! I send a text to deny her any excuses like- I couldn’t hear you. This is how it read exactly,

Screw it, am tryna ask u wea u at!

If this blog post were a video and these texts were the words of a narrator I’d freeze this part and zoom in on the text to give it a dramatic effect. That right there, that I call anger, very much justified if you ask me. But it was dangerously mixed with impatience, threatening to create imbalance in the mentality of a young man as me (I’m not sure what this means). An impatience that tells you there can’t be any credible explanation for what happened. An impatience that tells you are right and they are wrong and time spent to listen to any more of that crap is a waste of precious time! When you are annoyed and impatient to know the reason behind everything, you might end up losing many good things because when you are patient you just might understand that you are being silly.

What went down after that is irrelevant for I feel that I have accomplished the mission of demonstrating what a little anger and impatience can do to you. Moral of the story is that either you be angry or be impatient, never both. Get angry but wait ‘til she arrives or leave but don’t get angry. I choose to be impatient; it doesn’t take too much of your energy that one. Well, I try, even though sometimes I do get carried away.

For the curious lot: I will always cater for your needs; you know I will never let you down! Mary and I did not eventually meet, I was too impatient to wait and she was too mad to call. Note, we’d known each other just about four days at the time when I sent her that text. I promptly and sincerely apologized. I think it is important to also note that she is the one who called way later to protest about the text. It didn’t make her happy to say the least.

NB: Mimicking how Nigerians speak does NOT by any means imply that I watch Nigerian movies or that I’m associated with any Nigerian(s).

STRANGE STRANGERS

In Nairobi, that's arguably everyone you don't know, but strange is normal, sometimes too much caution is what gets you killed, or kills someone else. Like when a stranger on the streets approaches with a long story about how he's lost and needs money to get back home before dusk because his mother who is sick needs him but your instincts tell you the desperate idiot brother is nothing but a cheap conman, you know there is a chance that it might be true? What if its true? The poor mother is going to die! Anyway, normal strangers, that's scary. I mean those who treat you like they would treat a person they knew? Perhaps it's just me.

This guy at the matatu stage made gestures and yelled out something that I wasn't trying to hear, I turned to his direction and he looked at me straight in the eye and he says something again so I put my index finger on my chest to be sure if he was talking to me and as a matter of fact he was, he asked "Nairobi?" Yes, Nairobi. I was traveling from Thika. I personally don't like it when those boys decide for me which matatu I'll be traveling in but for some reason I followed this one meandering in between other matatus until we reached to the vehicle that was supposedly going to take me to Nairobi. It was cheaper and more comfortable, I hopped in and suddenly I wasn't comfortable, what was I doing in a personal car?! For all I know this could end up being a case of abduction and people are going to read about it in the Newspapers and hear newscasters read the news about me... I started to get nervous and resorted to asking too many questions like where exactly will you drop me... but the driver, noticing my discomfort, assured me he I'd be fine. Then I remembered this story of kidnappers. I started having this conversation with myself in my head.

"Well, it's me. God always takes care of me"

"Are you testing God now, putting yourself in potential danger and expecting him to rescue you?"

"But this is not putting myself in danger, I'm simply trying to go home"

"What if something happens to you, like if this driver drives crazy and you crash somewhere. Paps will wonder what the hell got you into a stranger's car!"

"Okay then, I'll buckle up"

But on my seat there was no seat belt.

"That's an excuse, it's not my fault"

"Are you serious?"

"I need to get this thought out of my head"

I looked over at the passenger seat and in the front and there was a woman, so I stayed. He was with a woman, which means he hadn't planned anything evil if he had brought a woman. That was my take. another random burly guy was led to the car by the same guy who brought me, that made me relaxed.

So we began our journey, two strangers in the back and another couple in the front. The driver thought he needed pressure on one of the car tyres. Apparently he didn't know Thika well, but our burly guy did. He helped a big deal, he sounded like he'd driven in Thika for a long time, he knew all the Petrol stations and at exactly what spot the pressure pipes were, if that's what they are called. By now, I was convinced that everything happened for a reason and that that guy was with us for a reason.

Then the strangest thing among strangers happened. We They started talking. And then...

"My names is Moses", began the driver, "...and I am born again"

"I am Doctor Jemmima, I am born again and I love Jesus", said the woman whom I later learned that she teaches Sunday school to little kids at her church.

I can't remember the burly guy's name but he was born again too!

"And what about our brother?", asked the driver

"They call me Wyndago, and umm... *stutter* I'm born again"

I don't know why I wasn't confident in saying so but that is another story.

What an evening. In this era, what are the odds of four (or three) born-again people finding themselves alone anywhere? I reckon they are pretty close to nil. I said Halleluhya but I might have said it too soon.

We had arrived in Nairobi, the burly had alighted in the famous Githurai so it was the three of us, when we found a very horrific traffic jam. Matatus started misbehaving, yes they did (we're used to that), trying to fit into smallest of spaces and they always fit and get through. On second thought, they but sometimes fit because this time one of them brushed on Moses' side mirror. This made the man of God angry and he began shouting at the matatu driver. Then to both mine and Dr. Jemima's surprise, our Moses applied hand break and stepped out of the car, ignoring Dr. jemima's pleas to just ignore the matatu driver. Right then I wondered what happened to Jesus. So now what was the purpose of that happening? I felt like I was at a drive-in, watching a movie through the windscreen. Jemima was so embarassed!

That is when these strangers became perfect to me, by their own imperfections. But I'm heeding my mother's advice of not speaking to strangers let alone get into their cars next time. You don't want to know what happened next.

BURST MY BUBBLE

I had a roommate in college who liked the room pitch-black when it was time for him to sleep, he'd force me to bed early. Everybody went to bed early except me, I was up mumbling a bunch of dumb words to keep them entertained so I wont be left all alone sleepless thinking to myself in the dark why the heck she can't love me, but they came to realize it was a trick and always promptly prohibited me from speaking when that time reached. One after the other they would all say 'Wyndago, shut up and go to sleep!' And when I grabbed my phone to at least tweet, the pitch-black crazed roommate complained about the light! Please! I thought, am I in prison? Every night it was the same story, to kill the boredom loneliness I'd walk up and down the room and soon as I begun one of them would go, 'and thus commences the daily ritual...' I miss those guys.

So anyway, Tony, the roommate who was obsessed with darkness, was one day covering all the ventilators and spaces that may allow light to pass through with newspapers. That glass thingy above the door was however proving a menace to wrap up, I think the cello-tape he was using was the problem but he didn't seem to relent. I was watching him closely with so much awe, then I told him. That thing is not going to work you're wasting your time! Tony got mad. Okay, perhaps I said much more than that and with the wrong tone... but he got mad. Then I had to pull back. I said; Tony, you're my friend, I love you no, that's gay. I said; I'm just trying to help you by telling you the truth, this is positive criticism. And I was pretty well answered, that if I wanted to be helpful I should have been up there with him taping old Newspapers on a glass window. Fair. But I didn't like the idea of a dark room anyway.

I don't know what it is but I will criticize. I won't be one of those friends who let their so-called friends go make a fool of themselves before a multitude of people believing they have something going on when they certainly don't. That's the price you pay when you become my friend. That is why I would greatly appreciate it to be told if you had a problem with me. Which brings me to Jason, my other former college roommate. This guy kept grudges, not for long but he held on to them instead of confronting the beef. He'd give you the silent treatment, to find out the cause or to just make sure it isn't you run to facebook ASAP! It will be there.

'Stupid idiot, I'm not your momma! You came here alone..'

That will be your first clue, you wouldn't need to be Mr Holmes to figure out the rest. Oh, and I haven't yet watched that movie... but I digress. See, I remember another incident when I accidentally spilled tea on Jason's bed, people just didn't understand the 'accidentally' part mostly because I did not realize it until I had to be told hours later what I had done! What I expected from Jason was, 'you son of a bitch, I'm going to kill ya!' because everyone I met looked at me funny saying Jason was yearning for my blood. I'm narrating the story now which means I'm alive. If I were Jason I probably would have just laughed it off, I'm easy like that. And that is sometimes a problem.

I have come to learn though, that sometimes it's better to keep ones mouth shut.Sometime back I wanted to have my 15 seconds minutes of fame and decided to go for a certain audition which I had told not a single soul about until now. I thought then that if I kept it to myself, it wouldn't be so embarrassing and upsetting if I wasn't successful. How wrong was I! Now, I wish I'd told someone so they could stop me. I was awful. To tell someone they suck at something they think they are exceptionally good at is so hurtful, regardless who is there or who says it. It bites you inside. It shouldn't be that bad if a friend told you though, I suppose. So for me, if you're my friend, tell me. Friends only, please... to avoid misdemeanors.

In other news; I'm told it's Valentine's already?

BED [WYNDAGOLIZED]

Depressed because they said he'd be next, he stood there and watched as they laid her to rest; it's too big a risk to bet especially when the price would be to be confined to a bed. As low as you get, sometimes it's best to still stay abreast of current affairs; its not '89 anymore, a whisper said in his head- people use rubber in this age. Once infected how does one turn over a new page? A carrier now so they kept him at bay. The whole saga caused him too much of pain. He yearned for his grave, his sweetheart was gone and he was too sad to pray, too upset to wail. Two parts deceit, one part of pain, that's what he sensed... that's what he felt.

His queen's name was Lynne, his princess' was Flo', short form for Florence, one girl he was fond of. Imprisoned in their fortress now things seemed so bleak, both of them couldn't sleep at night. Flo being nine she knew well mummy wasn't coming back, probably scared that daddy too was on his way. Girly has ears she heard them what they said. Perhaps that's what kept her awake. Daddy doesn't care now like he used to, when he yelled at mom when she was still here. "Go to your room, little lady!", his voice instilled fear. Now he's just there, and with his current rate he'll end up saying nine words in this whole year! But he is a fine man, she understood. A fine Daddy he is too. She was just scared, but so was Daddy.

There wasn't any noise in the house contrary to how it was before, not because they were that happy and all- no. They used to shout at each other in the morning, him and Lynne while Flo would sing aloud in the shower, her little way of escaping to live in her own world. Now there were just two people wallowing in sorrow and one of them drowning in thoughts. One of his reasons for lack of sleep were the constant memories that that bed brought back, the dreams were of Lynne's; sometimes of how they used to kiss but of also how she was a cheat! That bed is bewitched! He wouldn't even dare to blink. You see, they fought but he loved his chic like Buster sings, even their sweet daughter didn't comprehend their thing, a precocious kid, she understood too much but not this.

How could she have brought Kimberly, who's commonly known as Kim to the place that he considered sacredly his? Boundaries were crossed when he crawled over his King size bed and proceeded to devour that sweet thing with his sick thing deep in hers, sheets were soiled, so he can't again lie in that sick spot ever since she confessed in her death bed in the hospital ward. It's things like that that take you back to square one and you begin to ask yourself what the hell is this thing called love. Truth is he was guilty too but he didn't get caught. Yes, there was Eunice but she had clean blood, not a sickle-celled, anemic, asthmatic fat dude whose heart periodically failed. Not like Kim! But his love was with Lynne, he saved that for his bed, A bed that had been intruded all this time. She broke the code, right there in their home.

How does one make the deceased pay for their sins? For the disease ceases to affect the dead and the alive are advised to repent, does it seem fair? Dan hates to hear she said he said unless she said that he does it well in his bed, which only made him run to his wife bragging and spelling out his full name. All that's left now is that special bed in which the magic happened, but it's just not that special anymore and will be destroyed. Forgiveness he is not sure about, but he can't wait to crossover and regain his bitter/sweet love, whatever that is, and sleep together in a new, clean bed.

THE 'FACT' I JUST WON'T ACCEPT!

This thought has been lingering in my mind for a long time now, but the Hague issue just couldn't let it just rest in my head anymore. To cut to the chase, I don't think the Hague was a good idea, but my reasons are purely non-political but moral and inspired by the dignity that I do so much to protect.

Much has already been said but allow me to add my voice to it. I wasn't there but let me take you back in time during the colonial days. Not all black Africans were opposed to the whiteman's regime, some actually wanted them to stay. And they were accused as traitors and haters of their own. Some were put to death, killed in cold blood. Those men and women who wanted the whiteman to stay had predicted the demise of 'organised' society with the deperture of the whiteman. They said an African couldn't lead. They said atleast they ate while the white man came up with blue prints of new buildings and new agriculture techniques. They said their fellow Africans would be divided along tribal lines (which they already were before the whiteman was kicked out the country, and don't even blame the whiteman for that) and that they would be corrupt, the wise men of that time predicted it. Why are we proving them right today?

It's like those same people died and came back, I hear them screaming saying "let the whiteman judge our criminals!" because Africans, us, we are divided along tribal lines. We have corrupt leaders, it's not our fault they are corrupt! I say its not them its us. Many of us would rather see the whole government disbanded and in its place a group of white foreigners be put. Let the whiteman come govern us, they are just trying to help.

It is our problem, its root cause has to be tackled, we cannot dodge our responsiblities. I just can't and won't accept the fact that we can't. That we can never be able. I can't accept that the problems we are facing are bigger than us. If Africans are foolish, I'm NOT. I know, for a fact, that a significant portion of our population is ignorant, but not because of the fact that they are Africans. Big things have to be done. Let's clean up our institutions. Let's educate our people and make our system work for us and for the generations to come rather than rejoicing the downfall of one our own by sending them abroad for foreigners to punish them on our behalf. It's just not right.

UNIVERSAL IMBALANCE.

Since because I'm at war with my human brain, I oftenly find myself doing the opposite of what is already there. I have this urge to make everything balance. For example, if you told me that Tom is guilty of some wrongdoing and everyone is pointing fingers at him. I will be compelled to think; what about the people behind the scenes whom we can't see? The people who may have played a part in Tom's crimes. Maybe something (if not someone) pushed him to do it. He may be guilty but who are we to say? Did anyone see him do it? I am dragged into this situation or state of mind simply because no one else is convinced that Tom is innocent. In such cases I'd rather be sure myself.

Even in movies, I get attracted to the villain' side and pray that they don't get caught... yep, you guessed it- because everyone wants them to get caught! Sometimes I do this subconciously. I just can't keep my attention off the rusty side of the coin when the rest of the world's attention is on the other side. I guess my brain has picked up this info and made into a pattern and so I'm back to mental slavery, whatever that is supposed to mean.

My favourite time when I'm home is news time, but only when only my old man is watching. My father is a very funny guy during news time, unfortunately he mostly makes fun of bad situations Well, the news is mostly bad news. You should know he is pro ODM, obviously. I don't really kno what I'm pro. But when the arguments begin (it won't be news without them), my father get at it and you already know, I would seem to be pro PNU (though I'm really not). Just to create some sort of balance. Somebody has to represent their point of view where they have no representation. For that my father says I'm brainwashed by Okuyus. Find me among Kuyus and I'm for ODM. Not because I support or agree with them, just for the balance!

If there were balance mechanism in the universe, it would be a very just world. Or maybe it exists... and I'm part of that mechanism?

How does your human brain play tricks on you?

WE ARE NOT STUPID, WE JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO THINK!!

A qualified Engineer friend of mine, registered with Engineer's Registration Board (E.R.B) who earned his Degree in BSc. at the University Of Nairobi approached me one day with two mathematical problems that were presented to him as a bet in one of those drinking dens in Embakassi. The challenger was a makanga. "Would you fail to solve a mathematical problem set by a makanga- with all the dirt and his worn out clothes?", he asked me. It's not what he said but the tone of his voice when he said it. I even saw the spite in his face. That question led to a fierce argument.

The human brain works in a funny way. I would describe it as a pattern-forming 'machine'. It collects information from past experiences that were stored in the memory, compares it with the information at hand to identify any pattern and process new information or trigger a perception in our minds, a perception that is based on that pattern, or that completes or develops that pattern farther. This mostly happens without even us knowing, and if let alone (which is the case more often than not), this 'machine' can be misleading and a big obstacle against us exploiting the most out of our potential ability. Its time we (Kenyans... and really the human race) atleast struggled to get past this obstacle and unlock the cage within which our greatness is incarcerated and tap from it.

Our greatness, and the development of our country that we so much yearn for begins with each one of us as individuals and it starts in our minds- how we think. self-emancipation from mental slavery is the first step.

To me, thinking is an art. I am not a doctor or an expert but I know this much; our way of thinking is what stands in our way. We are an emotion-driven population as opposed to a fact-driven one. We go with the mood. We are not big enough to betray our thoughts and our perception and our pride for the greater good. No. We do the obvious, the easy thing to do. atleast our leaders do that, but I don't blame them. They are us. That is the bitter pill we should swallow. The mere reason why they are there is because we could not compromise. Not them, us. We cannot compromise to see another tribe other than ours take over the throne. Us! But we are not stupid or mad.

I keep fighting this battle everyday, a battle against my human brain. The mission is to take control over it.

Nothing in life is definite. That is where my friend was wrong. Just because we always wake up to new day, it doesn't mean that tommorow will come. Even though from experience, our brain has been gathering this info and has stored it so when prompted it 'tells us' that when the sun sets, it will rise again.

I got one of those makanga problem right. My Engineer friend didn't, the first time he attempted it. That means he ended up buying that makanga his deserved drinks. If you want to know what the questions were, hit me. They're not hard, just practical.

*for those who dont know, a makanga a sheng word to mean a public transport conductor.
Copy the link below to your web browser and have a read.

http://kwani.org/main/translated-from-kibakizungu/

THE LAND WHERE EVERYTHING IS GRAND

Ever since the grand coalition came to existence on that historic day of the signing of the accord (anyone out there know what the accord entailed?), everything went grand in this country- grand ignorance, grand poverty, grand abuse of human rights, even grand corruption went grand! And it's a record, three scandals in one year! All grand. Hand claps. These people make us look like simpletons, and we are!

In yesterday's news the president was literally begging for donor aid , he said "help us... even if we have rogues" Its not bad to ask for help, what is ironic is that that same government dismiss those same diplomats as "interfering with internal affairs" when they comment negatively on the government, claiming Kenya doesn't need them, we can fend for ourselves. True, they do interfere with our internal affairs and I don't like it. Let's just prove to them that we don't need them, but if we do then we have no choice. It will only mean that we have another battle to fight to absolutely break free from dependency on the west.

Back to the main point. The root of the problems we are facing in our country lies in us, our leaders are just the reflection of who we really are as a people. When I watched the news yesterday it got me raving mad, because it is my image as a Kenyan that these politicians are tarnishing. Then I thought, if I had the chance of enriching myself overnight through dubious means, would I do it? I promised myself I would never do it, if it made me that angry, that ashamed that other people are doing it... but then I honestly don't know. I heard it somewhere that you can't fight the system, you can't change it, it changes you. How true that is, I don't know.

I tend to feel that we bear part of the blame, that we have blatantly greedy, stupid and uncaring leaders no matter how educated they may be. We voted for them, but no that is not the crime we committed. How could we have known? They are good liars. Those people did not fall from the sky, they came from amongst us, the society made them, WE made them, that is the crime we perpetrated. Plus putting all our trust in them, and that. Our leaders are us, they show the kind of people we are.

Young people say they would never vote again, I say that's cowardly and detrimental to ourselves, the youthful. Most youth even say that they don't like politics, terming it as boring and bullshit. That is alarming. Young people; we can't afford to not get involved in politics in our country. It may be okay in the US.

I'm back in college from my attachment, my colleagues in the pharmacy department boast of how much money they made during their attachment from stolen drugs! "How cool!", everyone thinks. Everyone thinks nothing of it, except maybe me. Though I didn't say shit. That is how we start, that is how we breed them. Well, they are students... broke students, it wouldn't hurt nobody if they stole a carton out of hundreds of them, would it? See, those students will grow and graduate to stealing maize bags meant for the hungry, a hundred thousand of them. Perhaps it is in our blood. Perhaps that's why these powerful government officials wouldn't prosecute any of these culprits- they think nothing of what those curtails did. Grand does not become grand overnight.

We give birth to them, they look cute when they are little but they grow to be ugly as fuck!