Our unique flaws…

Here’s some good old Chinese wisdom!

 An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole, which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

                                                     (Photo courtesy)

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

            After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.” The old woman smiled, “Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”

                                                                   (Photo courtesy)

Each of us has our own unique flaw…

But it’s the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You’ve just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

To all of my crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers, on your side of the path.

Just like the fingers are, they are not the same size, so are our friendships, relationships, marriages let us learn to live with each other harmoniously. 

Take the time to share this message to all your friends who have a cracked side…

And God knows how many we are!!!

Courtesy

Tribut : VIVIANNE NALIAKA MAKOKHA

Par Kenneth Juror

            Elle était une dame très heureuse tout le temps comme elle s’est décrite sur facebook ; une dame simple, pétulante et sociale. Nous nous sommes rencontrés à la l’Alliance Française d’Eldoret où je travaillais, puis nous sommes devenus des amis. Je lui ai adhéré et pas à pas elle a commencé ses études avec Lisa Kamonya et des autres étudiants. 

Car j’étais le patron du Club de français, elle aimait chanter et danser surtout la salsa. Je suis fier d’elle parce qu’à chaque instant que j’entends la chanson Collé Collé par La Compagnie Créole sa voix est toute claire dans ma tête, comment elle bougeait ne m’échappe jamais. Elle a chanté jusqu’à la demi-finale du « Concours de la musique » de l’an 2009.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2TVM7cpEfI 

Pendant cette période du concours son nom a changé de Vivianne pour celui de Collé Collé. Beaucoup d’autres étudiants la connaissaient par le surnom Collé Collé plus que Vivianne parce que sa maîtrise de chanter était excellente.   

   

Ses études…

Elle n’avait jamais peur à s’exprimer en français comme monsieur Paul Wambete m’a dit « Vivianne avait une passion inexplicable de français » elle a tellement travaillé dur à ses études. Elle a fait ses études jusqu'au niveau 5, un niveau de l’autonomie linguistique, discursive et culturelle ; en effet elle a dû voyager en France le mois de septembre (mois prochain) pour les services au-pair avant de son décès. Elle avait déjà gagné le visa pour partir en France alors c’était seulement le billet d’avion qu’elle devait payer.

Aller en France était son rêve.

            Petit à petit l’oiseau fait son nid ; Vivianne enseignait le français à l’école d’El-View à Eldoret malgré son niveau. Elle était au deuxième niveau à cette époque là, elle était forte et uniquement fier de la langue française. Sa parole était claire et tout le temps elle parlait à la haute voix. Elle était aussi une bonne animatrice.

            Vivianne avait des différent défis surtout la compréhension de la vie, je suis croisé avec elle deux fois quand j’ai essayé de lui conseiller ; cependant il n’y a pas de route sans courbe.   

            Nous sommes allés à Musikoma, comté de Bungoma avec Richard Arina l’administrateur de l’Alliance Française d’Eldoret, Claudine Otwack, Paul Wambete, Michel Mutua, Brenda Ng’omo, Kelvin Obwoga, Dennis Werunga, Michael Sikowo, Lisa Kamonya, Timothy Ombati et Leah Odera pour les funérailles.

Avant de partir de chez elle, nous avons trouvé une opportunité rare de parler avec sa mère, chacun de nous lui a parlé. Dès que je lui ai approché pour les salutations elle m’a dit qu’elle se souvenait de moi « Je vous connais et je ne peux pas vous oublier, » la mère de Vivianne s’est confiée à moi.  

Collé Collé va franchement me manquer, néanmoins, elle vit parmi nous et sa mémoire est bien collé dans nos cœurs.

Les informations ajoutées par Richard Arina

A night with a twilight girl

By Kenneth Juror | Kenya

                   

            Mtito Anderi town in Makueni County is a must-stop for most people traveling from Nairobi to Mombasa. It is a transit town and a mid-point between the capital city of Kenya and the second city, Mombasa.

Mtito Andei according to the local people it means a forest of vultures. Some residents say it means marabou stork.

           

Nick had boarded a bus to Mombasa for vacation but decided to alight at this town. Most bus companies stop here to allow passengers either empty their bowels, fill them, stretch their bodies or quench thirst. Bus drivers and their crews are often treated to free food and beverages.

After the usual stop at this town he halted his journey to the coastal city so as to sample it. On the right side of the road on your way to Mombasa, there is an OilLibya petrol station from where Nick heard booming music coming from what seemed like a bar or a discotheque. He decided to go to where the music came from; as he walked he bought airtime so that he could inform his host of change of plans and that they should not expect him, more over to assure them not to worry just in case they did.

It was some few minutes past midnight. The town was literally getting up from the day’s slumber quite literally.

Choices…

            He went in and sat at a corner so as to “acquaint” himself with the restaurant. It had a raised area which acted as its dance floor, above the dance floor there was the DJ stand/ cubicle, on the left there was a sign leading one to the washrooms.

A waitress came and took his order of Tusker baridi (cold Tusker) he took two at amazing speed. A lady who looked like she was in her 40’s or late 30’s approached Nick. She asked whether she could take a seat after greeting him. “Do you want to be helped?” Nick did not understand what she meant but did not express shock; she asked him what type he wanted. Nick got curious on what was meant by “type”, the lady pointed to the direction of a girl seated alone on the bar stool at the counter. It was then that it dawned on him that he was being offered a girl of the night with the cliché “type”.

He requested the lady if he could sample them himself. The lady who we shall call boss agreed but after an exchange of Sh300 as “viewing fees”. He was taken towards the washroom then took a right turn just behind the DJ’s cubicle.

Voila! There they were, he looked around but chose a chocolate, medium-bosomed one who also had round medium derriere. She was a little bit younger as compared to the rest who had seen tougher days. She was still natural!

 

Pay more

            This young lady was his pick who happened to cost an arm and a leg because she was younger. They settled for Sh2,500 for the girl for the night with the boss. The boss left as the girl occupied the boss’ seat. She was called Mueni once they exchanged pleasantries.  She was shy although better looking in a well-lit place than the dark areas they were being “kept”.

They continued drinking up to around 1:30am. They left the bar for the lodgings that punctuated the small dusty town, they chose one and in they went one after the other. She sat on the bed then removed her shoes which had a slant. The slant and the ground made an acute angle.

“Do you live here?” Nick asked. She became so wild and told him not to waste her time with such a question; he had no authority to ask her anything apart from what he had paid for. Nick tried asserting that he had “bought” her for the night amid her shouting interjections. After the confrontation she went straight for his belt saying “kama wewe ni mwanaume kamili mbona ulikuja hapa? Mbona ulinitaka?  hebu toa hiyo kitu yako?” (if you are man enough why did you come here? after all why did you choose me? Can you get out your organ out?) He stopped her then put her on the bed as she was on a kneeling position.

            He opened up on who he was, where he had come from and why he was there. He then excused himself and went outside the room. Upon his return he had bought more drinks put in black polythene bag. 

Mueni asked him what he wanted. “Who is that lady I paid?” she said that was “our mother” who acts like our broker. She goes from village to village looking for girls who were not attending school, she would then agree with parents to be remitting some amount of money on weekly basis depending on the work done. “In my case my mother is a widow; my father was run over by a trailer some kilometers from Mtito Andei in which police said it was a hit-and-run case”.

She dropped out of school the previous year in form two, 16years of age yet she had a national identity card indicating her age as 21. She has sold her body for the last six months; she narrated this as tears flowed freely from her tiny eyes that had seen the world’s cruelty at a tender age. She has six brothers and two sisters, one of his brothers was shot dead at Salama area along the Mombasa-Nairobi highway after he tried his hands in carjacking.

Money 

            Nick cajoled her tapping her back slowly as they talked. He gave her Sh 3,000 and asked her whether she would willingly quit the trade for school. She said she would quit but vehemently refused to go back to school. She wanted a job.

Nick removed his shirt and trousers as Mueni got her’s off too. He explained to her that he was not interested in sleeping with her so it was not important to get into bed in her birthday suit.

He was not a vulture who wanted to gnaw her innocence; the town is a vulture town just as the name, men and women are vultures too.

            “I have never met a man like you” she said as she got herself in bed. Why do you do this for me? She asked as she got to a sitting position, “why?” she insisted looking straight into Nick’s eyes. He requested her to calm down, to get a rest as he would explain everything the following day.

Day break

            “Nick, Nick..wewe (you) wake up” it is 6:24am. She had already taken a shower. Nick went in for a shower as well and asked her to give up her “job” as he would help her look for a job in the hotel industry.

After that Nick left for Mombasa after getting her phone number as well as her mother’s.

He knew some influential people in Mombasa who would probably help Mueni; during his stay he kept in touch with her.

Two weeks thereafter, Nick sent her some money for transport to Mombasa all this while Mueni had stopped being a night girl. On her arrival she went to the salon at least to look impressive because the following day she was scheduled to attend an interview for a waitress job in one of the hotels that Nick’s friend owned.

It was a small oral interview which led to her training the following week.

            He left the city as his holiday was over, as he did, Mueni’s two brothers got jobs at the Kenya Ports Authority as a loader and technician which was through Nick’s influence.

Mueni on the other hand already had a one bed roomed house in Mikindani, she indeed had quit her previous “job” and earns a decent living.

The poor are cured by work, the rich by the doctor Polish proverb

No way… you cannot justify rape…

By Kenneth Juror | Kenya

      

Some months ago we were treated to allegations of unnatural acts being perpetuated by girls in Mombasa with a dog. This was season 1 episode 1 with its viewership ending sooner than it started. The sequel is still on but this time round, men versus domesticated animals which is in season 1 episode 3. The first was with a pregnant cow in Kiambu, a hen in Nyeri and the third in Murang’a where it was four men and a donkey tied to a tree. 

A cock killed a hen in Nyeri the joke goes.

It is although very unfortunate that people are making generalization statements which might later develop into stereotypes against men from these areas. 

            Last weekend a man in Kisumu was mercilessly beaten for raping a 5 year girl. Previous to this incident, a report by the National Council for Population and Development indicated that the former Nyanza province led in the number of teenage pregnancies followed by the Coastal region at 27% and 26% respectively.

Laptops, PC’s…

            Arguments have been thrown to “justify” why it was “better” to have teenage pregnancies around than engage in bestiality acts. Another school of thought argued that rape is better to bestiality!

I was perplexed to hear these from men, some well schooled.

None of these acts is better to the other as they are all heinous. How does one feel inserting a USB disc in a slot not meant for one? How would you feel if someone inserted theirs in your PC or laptop?

There will be a plethora of risks involved first, they would be pushing a memory stick into a slot that cannot fit but still soldier on, eventually your computer will break. Secondly, the risk of transferring viruses, quite literally, could completely shut down the functions of your computer (pun intended) among many other risks.

It is so wrong that someone can rape your daughter then later try “to justify” it. What if it was your mother, sister, aunt, cousin, grandmother etc how would you feel? These are men doing such.

Are we really men?

            Before the advent of the family unit many years back; men and women lived in separate homesteads far apart from each other. Men would raid women’s homesteads and rape them. As years went on women got tired of the constant horrifying sexual raids and each started identifying a man who she would sleep with and take care of , on the other hand men respected a woman who had identified a man. This was to reduce the harrowing ordeal that defines rape.

Men being jealous they way they are to date, they only wanted to be with the woman he had last time and a fist fight would resolve the difference on who was “there” earlier. The woman had the final word.

Convincingly, men took one woman after the other to their homesteads so that they would be away from other men who may raid when he is not aware exposing her to unknown danger.

Chop off…    

       

            The Sexual Offences Act of 2006 popularly known as the Njoki Ndung’u bill before being legislated it had propositions that a sexual offender’s organ be chopped off if found guilty, rape in this case, among other offences outlined in the Act. 

This proposition did not see the light the light of day.

Section 2 of the Act “A person guilty of an offence under this section is liable upon conviction to imprisonment for a term of not less than ten years but which may be enhanced to imprisonment for life”.

In conclusion no man would like to see his daughter, aunt, mother, sister, grandmother, friend etc being raped same applies to the boy child (sodomy). Why then engage in something that you would hate being done to your family? Why do it to someone else’s daughter/ son?

I beg to be schooled on this.