Of Dreams Deferred... Withered, Dried up Dreams.


So I FINALLY got round to watching Nairobi Half Life... yes, yes I know... how unpatriotic of me. In my defense, I have been looking for the DVD for the longest time. Some of my friends had the movie in their laptops but tech not-so-savvy me can’t even begin to grapple with the intricacies of LAN cables and such. I finally got a version that was only 1.33 GB that I could transfer using my flash disk. That said, I am fully aware that my opinion of the movie is highly belated but all the same, here goes...


I fell in love with Mwas at first sight. How does one not fall for that boyish grin? I laughed at his wit; was angered by the injustice he faced... and when he was beyond hope, I wept silently. At the end of the movie I felt ‘soft’, for lack of a better word. This story, about how uncaring and cold the world is, touched a raw nerve somewhere within me. The saddest bit of the movie wasn’t the fact that almost all the characters that I had grown attached to died... the saddest part was the fact that these things are the reality. Nairobi alone is home to so many withered, dried up dreams, so many broken hearts and melancholic souls.

Nothing is as it seems. All these hobos, street children, prostitutes and robbers have a story behind their current state. They all have deferred dreams and hidden gems. It’s just such a shame that society has chosen to look away instead of looking closer. We prefer to jump into conclusions about the ‘bad people’ in society. When we hear that a criminal has been gunned down by the police we are nonchalant, forgetting that that is someone’s son, brother, lover... I am not advocating for crime, or justifying the acts of such people. All I am asking is that we take a moment to think, to be human. What separates us from animals if we do not take care of our own? If we show no compassion?

We may be light years from hobos and such... but we all know a thing or two about pain, and loss and heartbreak. Like it or not, we are all in this together. We need to stand together, and hold up those who can’t quite stand on their own. To be frank, I am not sure what I am urging you to do... I think I simply want you to remember that they too are human... that they too have their story. I want you to look closer, and let your conscience do the rest.

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Vacationing


It has been A WHILE since I last posted here... especially while prompted by anything other than just pure necessity. I have been busy ‘participating’ (References to ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ never grow old.) so I haven’t had much time to muse and ponder. In hindsight I should probably have taken a moment or two to think before plunging and muddling through life... but such is life.

Until just about a fortnight ago I had a whole four month vacation. It was the best time of my life... in such a twisted way. I learnt a lot. For starters, I lost nearly all faith in humanity thanks to this pregnant woman. I re-learnt how to wear my heart on my sleeve and live life with reckless abandon. I turned twenty... and most importantly, I learnt how to do ‘kange’ math.

You know, the kind where the conductor asks you to give him extra coins on top of your fare so that he could return your change in notes... that math. I am always left bewildered trying to crunch up the numbers in my head yet it takes a conductor seconds. Yet yours truly is so confident of her computation skills that she has added ‘plays at being actuary’ on her bio on twitter. Well, I finally know how to do ‘kange’ math, thanks to working at my mom’s shop for the better part of the past four months. I had also been studying for my CT1 Financial Math paper... but I’m still convinced the shop keeping is to blame for making me the mental-math guru you now see (read?) 

I suppose I could have set out to ‘change the world’ or ‘save the rhinos’ during my vacation. I should probably have set out to earn some money, seeing as free Wi-Fi is just around the corner and I still haven’t fixed Kyle’s screen. (I feel that this is the point where I add my M-pesa pay bill number at the bottom of the page. C’mon people, what happened to supporting the arts?) Instead, I settled for dishing out bundles of health, packed in ¼, ½ and 1 kg packs of wimbi and mtama flour, to the good people of Kamulu. As it is I am an expert in what ingredients are suitable for making porridge for children of all age groups... an amateur nutritionists of sorts. So, yeah... Baby mamas, baby daddies... if your baby babies get malnutrition, don’t claim that I didn’t publicly offer my services on this blog.

 Now I am back to the refreshingly geeky life of a student actuary... one who has to rush to get her ID from a guard who claimed that she was ‘flimsily dressed’ yesterday. Flimsy, really? I suppose some of us still have a long way to go before we can conquer the diverse vocabulary of the English language. 
Yes, in Strath this is flimsy.

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