Dispatch from Mombasa

The road to political Siberia for Mvita MP Najib Mohamed Balala began when he dared criticize the political high priest of the Orange Democratic Party Prime Minister Raila Amolo Odinga by claiming that the party lacked internal democracy and stifled dissenting voices. On top of that Balala went to bed with the sworn political enemies of the Prime Minister and especially the group allied to William Ruto and Uhuru Kenyatta. For him it was not a matter of if but when he would find himself out. This would be confirmed by a show he did with K-24 dubbed “Face the Nation” in which it came out clear that the relationship between him and the Orange was damaged beyond repair. The forces allied to Baba worked round the clock to ensure that he was severely punished for daring the gods of the most popular party in Kenya. So as Balala retreats to his cocoon to count his loses one by one, and to also strategize how he is going to rise from the ashes there are those who are busy toasting their...

I am writing this like a man who grew up in an era when men were men. It was a time where if a man took out a woman for dinner he would foot all the bills regardless of whether they had enough money all not and still leave with their ego intact. It was a time where taking out a woman was the pride of the man and he would look forward to it. It called for psychological and financial preparedness. Again not just any woman would be taken out for dinner, only special ones would. Enter the era of poking, connecting, sharing, and everything becomes virtual including relationships between men and women. It is also at this time when a principle called equal equal emerges. If you didn’t know, equal equal is a new found practice (I am not sure whether it was invented in Nairobi) where men and women split bills equally depending on who is in the party. The woman is not the man’s burden and neither is the man the woman’s burden. I had read about equal equal in Wanjohi daily (by the way ...

I am writing this from my hotel room in Kisumu. Well there is nothing to write home about the Hotel which though a masterpiece of its time, it is now run down and a litany of complaints is what I have heard from my colleagues and those who have been here before us. In fact one of the thoughts that hit me was that it must have a connection to Government and which was confirmed by one of the employee who told me that it’s a ministry of tourism run establishment. What hit me was that the government has been spending millions to promote tourism abroad for the benefit of the private sector but its very own establishments are run down. What a contradiction. However what concerns me is not the discomfort of my room and that I have had to shift rooms because an attendant broke a key to the lock while I was out, but what is happening in Kisumu. In 2008, Kisumu was at the centre of the post election violence. We saw images of wanton looting and burning and to an outsider this was the ...

Today is not what you would particularly call a good day. It began with me visiting a client whom I had to deliver a project to only to be told that the client was in Nairobi. What made it worse was that I had spent the whole of yesterday frantically trying to reach the said client but she declined to pick my calls. At one time she told me she was going to call but never did it. So when I woke up early to deliver a job that I have been working for a whole week, I was told that she had travelled, I felt wasted. So as I am nursing the wounds of rejection and being ignored, there is this other client who is supposed to MPESA me pap. I even talk to the guy and he tells me that he is in the middle of something and that I should just chill. Just let him finish what he is up to and he will sort me out. My eyes therefore become permanently glued to the phone and just waiting for that crucial MPESA message alert. As I am licking my lips and thinking how I am going to at least and for...

Chikoo Guantai, though shabbily dressed moved on the silver screen with the grace of a cat. I noticed that her hair was not completely kempt and in my mind I was telling myself that during my heydays I would not have wanted to date her.  I was still doing an analysis of her looks in my mind when I was woken up from my reverie when she announced my name.  “Today’s winner in our continuing Tazama Chapaa 8028 is ….” You win yourself Kshs 500,000 I was not sure that I had heard her clearly and wanted to confirm that it was me. “She just mentioned your name…” my wife told with a girlish look in her eyes. “Okay, Okay, let’s wait and confirm that it’s me, there could be other me’s out there. The winning telephone number is 0 7 2 xxxx Yes that’s mine, “xx,” “ Ngai namba iyo nita yakwa ”, “x” By now my heart was pumping in my ears. I could hear the drums rolling in my stomach and every muscle was tense and twitching as I waited for the final confirmation. “”...

Okay, I have just decided to put everything else aside so that I can do two things. One, is to reconnect with  my writing which for the last four months has suffered such a beating. Never worry, it has been for such a good personal cause.  Secondly, it is to express what I have been going through with the hope that it might just uplift someone's spirit. Well I sought to pursue an advanced course Communications in Daystar University without enough money for fees. At the beginning, the fees looked such a  mountain to climb and  I was not sure that I would be able to pay. I was given a contract to sign in which I committed myself to pay in three equal installments. I, like any other Kenyan, quickly appended my signature on the dotted line not sure if I would meet the obligations and the journey began. It has been a ride full of mountains, potholes and valleys given that there are many people whose mouths are wide open waiting for me to fill in something. Ut...

Once a journalist; always a journalist. So Joe Khamisi a veteran journalist has decided put pen on paper and blow the whistle about what he calls the politics of Betrayal in Kenya: Diary of a Kenyan legislator. I have not had a chance to read the book but I guess the whole thing smacks of sensationalization of betrayal by a betrayer. But, again, are we not all betrayers at one time or another? I know that by writing this piece I am bound to be accused as a betrayer to Khamisi’s betrayal of the betraying political class. I first came to know Khamisi while serving as a junior information officer with the Ministry of Information and Communication at the Mombasa Provincial Information Offices which are housed at the Kenya Broadcasting corporation Mombasa offices. Khamisi was then the Managing Director of the Kenya Broadcasting Corporation. Most of the employees working for KBC felt betrayed by Khamisi who was supposed to be their key to Canaan. Under his non betraying ey...