MONOPOLY

Tuesday was Liberation Day here. We were observing the day the National Resistance Movement, led by M7, captured (that must be the right word. I've heard that Kenyatta would get offended and verbally insult you if you said that 'we' were granted freedom by the Brits. "Tulinyakua Uhuru" was right-er) power in Kampala after 5 years in the bush. I forget from whom the country was liberated. M01 was also around, pushing forth for a 4th term of the M7 presidency. Elections are early next year.


When I got back into town in the evening, I got together with some friends and we played Monopoly. It was a first for me.


After learning the rules, I bought some property when I could, refused to make early deals that would have seen me develop some from which I could have earned rent, or even allowed me to buy more, and refused to buy property I thought too cheap and in bad neighbourhoods. That you earned 200 bob every time you passed by sounded like a Mungiki-infested area.
The end? The guy who got the cheap stuff made a fortune, and was able to buy and develop other properties. Which made me broke because I had to pay too much rent. I had to mortgage my houses at half price, and ended up selling my properties to merely pass by. In the end, I was left with no property, was penniless and, I imagined, homeless.


I was shocked. Not because I lost the game (I can explain! It was my first time, and I was the second to go bankrupt, out of four people. The first loser was the mugaga-sonko-in an earlier game before I got there). I don’t want to live my life like that. We all started with exactly equal opportunities, but two of us were wiped out. Just wondering could life be like that?
In the next five years, I’ll focus investing for the long term, and on cash-flow outside my job in the medium term. Medium term is now through the next 5 years. God willing, and helping me. Starting........soon!


Ultimately I think Monopoly is a game of chance. But isn’t life? I think a more appropriate name for the game would have been Capitalism. Like, you are either going to eat or be eaten. You know, like the animals I saw on National Geographic at the same venue some time earlier. Because I’ve never been to Maasai Mara, neither do I have DSTV (who’s the other new Pay-TV guy after the death of GTV, R-TV? See, it’s a game of chance). Not until this coming weekend, anyway. Way to get that positive cash-flow, you know?

Seeking Balance

Part of this post might come off in classic Kenyan Reality style (See the last paragraph, white font here): scarcity of details and the only take-away is that things are a bit out of balance, in a negative way.

I only made New Year resolutions in early 2005, the same year I resolved to keep a diary from that year onwards. Then I lost the diary sometimes before June, and decided never to keep one anymore. In a shared house with no personal space, it was too risky to have the wrong pairs of eyes reading it. Because I wrote about my interactions with people, some of whom I was living with.

Learning how to live with people while minimizing conflicts has been a journey for me. I can't say what I achieved what year, and definitely don't remember 'resolving' to learn how to coexist with others peacefully.

Anyway, last week there was an in incident that led to a few awake-at-night moments. And there are two others that kept me awake last night. In one, I’ll my know my fate by Feb 9th. . Still, I need to come up with a plan B for the result because I have a deadline to meet by the 15th. The other is a process that needs a lot of my effort, and favour from God. The effort needed to resolve the first issue includes such things as: patience, resolve, mutual understanding, giving and receiving respect and dignity, and even levelling expectations. And of all things, commitment. No, the other party is not even remotely a romantic partner.


There was a time that I had so much faith in God that all I would do was give my best in whatever depended on me, pray, chill, change strategy whenever need arose. These days, I’m taking things quite personally. Even being a bit sceptical on God’s intervention (to use a trending topic, think the Haiti earthquake, His omnipotence, and their faith in Him). Only that it’s all been to my detriment. I would never lose sleep over stuff. I’m so going back to my former way of dealing with everything! It doesn’t all make sense all the time, but it works for me.

Here are some 20 easy ways you can reduce daily stress. I guess, in life, you can reduce stress by better planning and anticipating stuff. And for me, praying.

To Tell or Not to Tell? Or ask.

Would you ask or tell all of your 'pyjama time' stats? There's this guy who wrote to Love Letters . He's freaked out because he asked and she said she had it going with like 35 guys in college.

Then there's huyu who's afraid to share inexperience.


I prefer to not ask. But sure go for tests. Wewe je?

I'm Back

As my Zimbabwean colleague would put it, I’m bek to werk. That is, back to work. It was good to be home and away from UG for some time. The trip itself had kidogo drama, with my flights delayed both ways. I fikad at my house at 3am leo morning, and had to be at work the same day. But, I’m a KQ shareholder, so I won’t bash them much. Here’s a recap of my time away from my home.

Got to spend time with my family. My niece and nephew, those kids are growing, yawa! Even took it upon myself to tell PKW kadogo a few things about boys and sex . PKW kadogo is my cousin’s kido, and is turning 12 this year, and we are named for my cucu. My mum seems to be ageing a bit faster than I’d have expected. She complained that siku hizi watu wanaishi kama wazungu, with kids and gradkids away from parents and grandparents. Told her she can always come stay with me when she is old(er) and I have a family. And I mean it. It’ll be awesome, I think. Interestingly, seeing my family made me feel a bit old too. Imagine I saw PKW kadogo’s mum pregnant with her when I was 19, going on 20!


Time with friends fro seco. I think there is nothing like friendships za kitambo. You know, one of those when you haven’t seen each other for five years, meet up, and ongea, mpaka it feels like you were never apart? With one of them, we spoke mpaka the husband flashed her phone—aende akalale.


Time with my friend that I met kwa mtandao. Kasichana, thanks for inviting me to the Kenya-Cameroon friendly match on Sato. Thanks to you,I can now be counted among the people who have seen Etoo, Song (? The guy who plays for Arsenal) and Congestina live. We lost. 3:1. Wana-Cameroon waendelee hivyo hivyo especially kwa finals za World Cup in June. Woi, I hope at least one African team will get to the semi-finals. Gosh, I hope the stadium is going to be ready.

Not enough time with the Man, but every second was well worth it. We even had a mini-crisis which we kinda created by failing to plan, and got through it intact.


Became increasingly aware that depression is a terrible disease. A relative of a friend, whom I knew, committed suicide in ’08. She was 30. Second time I was hearing this in the last couple months, though the other friend’s dad committed suicide in the early-mid 90s. I think many people, including me, are never aware when they are depressed, thus never seek help. And what you think is your support system can be your biggest detractor. It may be hard for people to support you if they don’t know you’re sick and don’t even recognize a disease in the first place. There is a case for mental health awareness in Kenya.


Had conversations that made me to (more seriously) think about retirement. Yaani, gone are the days when people would retire and go grow sukumawikis or have a ka-kiosk huko shagz and that would sustain them. These days, some maybe lucky to be in the village sinceyour expenses may not be as high as those of townfolk. Luckier if your kids are doing well enough to take care of their kids and take care of you. Not many Kenyans put retirement living into their plans. We have a lot of young people to take care of, and it’s a matter of time till we have a lot of old people to take care off. I used to hate nursing homes with a passion, but now.....someone better think of expanding that business model.


Matatus: I ride them all the time in UG, they are called taxis. Cabs are called ‘Special Hires’. Over here they are white, with a broken blue strip, not pimped hata kidogo. In Nairobi, they come in many colours, music and DVDs. I rode in many ‘SMS ONLY’ matatus. Yeah, the music was that loud. And Tanzanian music seems to have taken over. But then matatus went on strike last Monday.As my sister-in-law put it, watu wa matatu ni watu wa njaa, hawawezi enda long. Sure, they were back Tuesday night. I really hope we don’t get as many bodabodas in town. Ama they outlaw their operation in the CBD. Kajini they are doing a great job between where the matatus drop people off and homes in shagz. Made a new friend. A broker, can imagine that?


M-Pesa scare. Sent 10K to someone by mistake, using 0710, instead of 0720. You should have seen me running from Maggie’s to the Safaricom Customer Care Centre on Moi Avenue and dialling 234 at the same time. I ingiad the Maggie’s kitchen while looking for the exit. Luckily 234 went through real quickly and they reversed the transaction. But I couldn’t re-send or use that particular amount of money until after 72 hours. Apparently, people had gotten into the habit of buying lots of merchandise, paying through M-Pesa, and immediately calling Safcom claiming they sent the money by mistake. Then discard the SIM card and get another one. Kinda makes SIM registration sensible, when I think about it. J.N., the guy I’d sent the money to by mistake, asked me to send him 100bob air-time sababu hakutumia pesa yangu vibaya. I didn’t. M-Pesa’s real cool. I even M-Pesad the mama who did my hair the fee.


Rain, rain came our way: a lot of Kenyans had prayed. It poured. Yaani, in my village it rained every day. When I went back to Nai, I M-Pesad my mum enough money to plant 100 or 125 trees. Also realized that forest land at the small centre not far from our ka-market on the way to town has been demarcated and settled in by, I think, previously landless people. Used to be a forest 10 years ago when we moved there. Also, wonder of wonders, wells in our village had dried up during the draught. Imagine that, and we don’t have rivers. Potatoes, which we;ve sold for as low as 200bob a sack, had hit 5K bob.

Real estate (flats and houses): I think now that the roads are being repaired, real estate value in some places is shooting trhough the roof. Was last in Kitengela in December 2004, and now people have built up the place like no one’s biashara. Nyumba poa za kuishi. It’s becoming a well established town with all the social amenities. Was in Kajiado, and some guys actually commute there daily from Kitengela. Then I met this guy who told me that he’d bought 2 parcels of land for 70K each in early 2008, and just sold one for 500K. Then again, some people in Central Kenya will quote millions for an acre, even though they can’t justify that. I think it may be a bubble. There are flats coming up almost in every direction you drive from Nairobi. I should be a shareholder in one of those cement-manufacturing companies. Or HFCK, or the other banks financing the developments. I also imagine that it may be better to buy than build a house. Saving me the hassle of building from scratch. Just a thought.

Other resources (cows, land). I think the Maasais, at least the ones I interacted with, are a very rich lot.


I feel rather excited about 2010, like it has great things in store.
I wish everyone a happy, health and prosperous (for real, not just because that’s what people say) 2010. May God guide you and help you accomplish your plans in 2010 and beyond.

YEAR END

When I was growing up, the end of the year was observed as a time of thanksgiving, reflecting, and praying to God for the coming year. I still do that, but of late the New Year has found me sleeping, and at least once, in a club. I think I will be sleeping this time too. But today is the end of the working year at our office, effectively marking the end of the year career-wise. On Sunday I head to Nairobi, proceeding to the village mid-next week for Christmas and perhaps the New Year.


Thanksgiving:

• I’m thankful for family, my job, and my new friends
• Thankful for old friends
• Thankful for great health
• I feel like I’m on track to get a grip on my finances, and for that I’m thankful.

Taking Stock
• It’s been a hard transition, getting into a somewhat different culture, learning to manage people, upping my ‘diplomacy’ skills, and negotiating skills. Not easy at all, but I strive to be better. Everything has a start.
• I’ve had fights with loved ones, some hard talking has had to be done, and all has ended well. We love each other deeply, though we rarely say this to one another, and I can’t wait to see everyone. I’ve made new friends, two who are very close
• The Man. Not sure where this is going. While Kisumu may be nearer to Kampala than Kigali is, it is farther away from Nairobi than Kigali is from Kampala. I aspire to aspire to be in Nairobi. I feel like I’ll be singing a different song when next year comes to a close. Ah, relationships! I’m not so good at them. Well, maybe I am, probably a tad too idealistic. I will never say never again .I’ve said this before , “I can never be ina long-distance relationship again”
• Houses. Nice, affordable housing in Kampala is not easy. How to say this? You can get a nice affordable house in a neighbourhood that doesn’t match the house. I moved into a new house in February. The rules? Not everyone who comes from Kenya should come to your place. Only have visitors on weekends, don’t come in after 10:30pm, 10:55 at the latest, that’s when the gate is locked. I’ll admit I got into this one with my eyes wide open, because after a long search that was becoming expensive, I had only one weekend before heading to Nairobi for a week. Couldn’t wait for the last Friday of April, by which time I’d found a house to move into the following day (having paid two months’ rent to the only guy who could accept as few). So I went out that Friday and came back at 11:30 pm. After all, it was my last day there, and wasn’t too late. That mzee tukanad me sana sana sana. Words like malaya. Then came to kick me out in the morning, as if I hadn’t already packed. And repeat the same scene in broad daylight. I was in tears. Funny thing is his wife is from Kiambu (yes, I knew this when I moved in. The broker said I’m muna-Kenya and she responded with “Uhoro waku?”) and she just stood there. I got the feeling the guy is the lion of that home. I moved to the Mengo area, not far from the Buganda parliament. This time it was an apartment, with the owner living in a separate house. I moved on out after the four months worth of rent expired, careful to give the required notice When I went to collect my deposit after moving to my new place, she informed me that one socket had burned out, and had needed UGX 35,000 for a replacement, and UGX 15, 000 for the service. Must have happened between when I’d moved out and came back for the deposit, but they had done the replacement already-and there was soot on the wall. There went my UGX 50,000 (Ksh 2,000). I didn’t contest it. And the broker who helped me locate the apartment had disappeared with my UGX 200,000 (Ksh 8,000) as a deposit on another house that we had been on the lookout for before the apartment materialized. That house was taken by another couple at a t time when the broker told me he had been imprisoned. He eventually gave me UGX 130,000. After going to the Local Council 1 chairman, who asked me for UGX 15,000, and various phone calls and visits to the broker, and threatening to go to the police, I gave up. I worried he could after me, hata kama he didn’t know my new place.
I like my current place. The landlord got his six months worth of rent in August, which run out at the end of January. He has been asking me for a copy of the lease (which I’d given to his agent). The agreement is that from January, I pay rent in three month instalments. Yesterday he called to say he has a tumour, and wants a year’s worth of rent at the end of January. The agreement clearly states that any notice shall be in writing, and each party shall give the other at least two months. I feel like contesting this, but then I like to go home to a place I look forward to going home to (God, I love my place, and no doubt it’ll be hard to find a place like it), where there is goodwill between the neighbours. If I contest his ‘request’, I’m not sure we’ll be talking to each other. Then, I’m scared for my safety. I live with his two siblings and two relatives on the same compound (mine is a semi-detached unit from their house), and the watchman is their relative. So if anything was to ‘happen’ there would be no neutral party. I don’t want to think about it right now. I just want to go home for Christmas, and a week’s leave on first week of work. If things turn out that I have to move, my friend is moving back to Kenya, and the house agent she worked with sounded like they’d be willing to have the house vacant in January if I assure them I’ll move in come February. It’s furnished, so I may have to dispose off my bottom of the range furniture. She lives across the street from me. I don’t intend to move after that, maybe when I eventually go home.


Praying:
• My family
• My finances
• My country,my region, my continent
• My career
• Some personal things I’d rather not put out here
Happy Holidays everyone!

EMBAGA, OBUFUMBO, AND MAKING MATOOKE

Last Saturday I went for my colleague’s wedding. I am still trying to make the best of my Luganda by speaking it as much as I can. On our way back from the weddo, I wanted to say how good I thought it was, so I asked my other colleagues for the Luganda word for ‘wedding’. Somebody said ‘Embaga’, which could also translate into ‘Party’. Thought that was cool. Didn’t realize there is no difference between’ wedding’ and ‘marriage’ in Kikuyu (uhiki), though older people refer to it as 'home'. Not home as in house, but home as in family e.g. the home of PKW’s parents is nice/difficult. I take that to mean marriage is all inclusive, not just between 2 people. Not so cool. The Kikuyu word for a (married) woman is Mutumia. Directly translated, it means ‘the one who shuts up’. A (married) man is called a Muthuuri, from the verb guthuura (to choose). I once thought that was cool because it meant the man had chosen the woman. But I can’t tell you how many weddings I have attended in the village and hear this advice: Muthuuri etagwo muthuuri ni guthurania maundu, nake mutumia etwagwo mutumia ni gutumiria maundu (Loosely: a man is called a man because he chooses between different things, and woman is so called because she shuts things up within herself when issues arise). Not cool at all.

Oh, there is one more phenomenon as far as weddings go over here. People have what is called a kiwani wedding. A fake wedding. As, in ome people do actually fake weddings when they want to raise money, not get married. Look what happened to Straka, a local TV presenter.

On the other hand, marriage is called Obufumbo in Luganda. Directly translated to English by me, that comes to something like ‘the cookery’, or ‘the place of cooking’. I’ll stick with the first since the names of most places or to be more specific, regions, start with Bu e.g. Buganda for the Baganda people, Busoga, Bunyoro, Bukonzo and (as learnt on Tuesday) Buddu,etc. A Buddu post might see the light of day someday.

The verb that Obufumbo comes from is okufumba ; to cook. Small wonder there is such variety when it comes to food over here. On a regular day, for lunch, I have the following choices: matooke, posho/kaunga (ugali), ebinjanjaro (beans), binyebwa (groundnut paste), mucheele (rice), olumonde (ngwaci), Irish potatoes, kyenyanja (fish), kaawo (I probably made that up-cow peas), enyama y’e mbuzi/nte/enkoko (goat/cow/chicken meat), juni (arrow root), nsuju (pumpkin), muwogo (cassava) and assorted greens and fruits. Depending on the area, that costs between UGX 2500 (Ksh 100-USD 1.5) and UGX 8,500. A lot of the time I pack my lunch.
Did I mention earlier that chips and chicken is not food, but a snack? Try walking into a restaurant one fine Sunday afternoon and ordering what’s on the menu. Chances are you’ll be told “we don’t cook food on Sundays, we have snacks only”. On further inquiry, you realize the said snacks are chips and chicken. I think that’s food enough for a regular Nairobian to eat Monday to Friday. And you wonder why the Kenyan man goes on and on about the beauty of the Ugandan woman. One told me that beauty is a package.

Onto okufumba. You may know that matooke is the staple food in Uganda, which probably explains why they are the only net exporter of maize in the region. Maize is not even grown with much zeal. Making matooke is not as straightforward as I thought: peeling bananas, putting them into water, bringing to a boil and mashing with a cooking stick once soft. No, that would make the matooke whitish, and it would also harden when you get it off the fire. Instead you do it as follows:
1) Peel the bananas, leaving them whole
2) Look for a piece of banana stem, cut it into pieces small enough to fit into a sauce pan (if a town dweller, you won’t get access to banana stems, but are likely to buy a bunch of matooke. Use the middle part, where the bananas get attached)
3) Pour water into the sauce pan
4) Put two large pieces of banana fibre (if in town, buy) onto the banana stems, making a cross.
5) Put banana leaves(have to buy if town dweller) onto the banana fibre
6) Carefully arrange the peeled bananas into the banana leaves, making them into a round shape
7) Steam for the appropriate time (~45 minutes). If you need more water, make space between the sauce pan and the banana fibre and pour it, using a cooking stick to ensure it does not come into direct contact with the bananas.
8) When cooked, knead with your bare hands.
9) Once ready, serve (along with rice/muwogo, juni etc) with groundnut paste, and/or meat beans, fish etc greens. Kneel when serving your husband.


I thought you may need to be leaving work at 3pm if you have to cook matooke like that everyday. Some people make Ugali in a similar manner, taking up a couple hours to make it properly. Apparently, if you have a big sauce pan, you could make all the different dishes in separate bundles of banana leaf wrappings and bring them all out at the same time.I mean, matooke, meat/fish, rice etc in one sufuria without mixing them. Meat made in banana leaves is called Luwoombo. It’s an art, I tell you. How does a Kenyan mama compete in such a market when your expertise is making ugali in 15-30 minutes and pushing the week? Doesn’t that also make it unviable to commercially produce matooke flour? At least for the Ugandans, it does. Kisiis, the Kenyan matooke experts, would probably buy it.

MTN Kampala Marathon

The MTN Marathon has been around a few years, and it’s getting to be serious regional event. Jana I ran the 21km. It was my second as I ran the Stanchart Nairobi Marathon last year. This time I’d prepared. I improved my finish time with 15 minutes. I’m sure I’ll do better with more practice for one, two or all (I kid you not) of Safaricom Lewa Marathon, Stanchart Nairobi Marathon or MTN Kampala Marathon next year. Needless to say, Kenyans outran Ugandans. And the Ugandans who really run are Sebeis from Kapchorwa and other places in the East. Really, the Kalenjins of Uganda.

What did I like?

-It turned out a good way to keep fit. I find it easier to exercise when I am working towards a goal than doing it kiundutho. My body doesn’t hurt like last time, too. That was funny. I hadn’t done any practice, and then realized I had to come start working in Kampala the following Monday. I hadn’t been to my Nyeri village in years. So what did I do? Go to my shags on Friday, get back to town on Saturday night, wake up Sunday morning and run (rather, mostly walk) the 21 km, come to Kampala in the evening, start my job the following day, asking the receptionist if I’m walking funny. My body hurt all week. None of that today.

-A good time for me and my few, mostly Kenyan, friends in Kampala. I like their sense of humour. Like when we were waiting for the marathon to start and wanted everyone within hearing distance to know that we are Kenyan. That meant we were there for the money, but thighs don’t lie. You can tell a Kalenjin, sorry, a serious runner by their legs. And then we started saying stuff like Eldoret having been a good place to practice, Mt. Kenya being higher altitude than Kampala, having finished only a few minutes behind Jelimo, Tergat during practice season. Talk of psychological warfare. Good thing is, no one knew that one of those who had registered for 21km decided to walk 10, calling it a change of strategy. Still, it was impressive for him to ‘finish’ 21 km among the 10km finishers. The numbers on our shirts were in different colours so you could tell who was running what distance. Not that he was among the first, say, 100 to ‘finish’ the 21km

-Better shoes, so my feet don’t hurt and none of my nails died this time.

-Better logistics. Last time I got into a matatu, and got off in the middle of town since a lot of the roads were closed. I was getting late, and had to run to Nyayo stadium before starting the marathon. I was exhausted by the time I got there. Jana I arranged for the cab guy to pick us up at 5:30am. 'Us' because my buddies drove and packed at my place. Turned out we all could have slept a little more, but no loss.

-It’s cheaper to register for the MTN Marathon at UGX 6,000 (about Ksh 240) or 5,000 if you use MTN MobileMoney. Stanchart Nairobi marathon was Ksh 1,000 (~UGX 25,000).

-I can be a feel-gooder at times, and it does feel good to know that my UGX 6,000 will somewhat help in the resettlement of the people of Northern Uganda. How? Simanyi.

-Food after finishing, thanks to a friend whose former company was represented. Dude came back from Nairobi to run the marathon. People have drive.

-The souvenir MTN-branded water bottle that reminds you of FIFA 2010. MTN is an official sponsor

-Those Chinese or Japanese guys and (maybe) Ugandan driver driving slowly among the runners on the last hill in Kololo in a new sleek Nissan Navara. I wondered if you paid to market it on an MTN event.

-Who said I can’t put that on my CV?

What I didn’t like

-The prize, only UGX 5m (~Ksh 200K) for the winners. Not that I was the winner, but that doesn’t compare with Ksh 1.5m for Stanchart Nairobi Marathon, or USD 125K for the Boston Marathon the last time I checked. It’s a start, though.

-I didn’t get a cert, or a finisher’s medal like last time. I only know my finishing time because I kept it myself.

-The whole thing was a bit jua kali. The loudspeakers were not audible down at the airstrip where most people were gathered. When you finished, you went into the packed field in the air-strip, gave back your chip, and then got the bottle. Where was proof that someone actually finished? I didn’t think that was the best use for the ChampionChip. Then there were the people hustling to steal bottles
-The guy who took our pictures and my number in the morning, promising to bring back prints by the time we got back. No word till now. Ssebo, get serious.


Overall, a great event, getting better each year.