World Domination

TV is still bad.

2009-10-27T15:56:00.001-07:00

When i sit down to watch TV, i feel like i a thief- creeping up on myself and stealing my brain cells. So things the TV transmitted today- 1. man boobs- now this was very funny, and understandably it is very distressing for the male human when his usually flat breasts start to compete with his female counterparts' breasts. According to the show, man boobies a.k.a 'moobies' can be brought on by obesity or rise in female hormones in men. For fear of further distressing the male humans- i will go no further.
2. Barbie and the Three Musketeers- i watched a TV ad today and it was about Barbie and the Three Musketeers- this felt very wrong- like identity theft. We grew up sneering at Barbie and the trend has not changed- actually it has- the sneer is deeper, perhaps entrenched now. So there was Barbie and her crew all decked out in sparkle and pink plus varying shades of red welding some pretty swords- for fear of distressing myself, i will go no further.

Conclusion: TV is still bad. Off to sleep- my brain cells need to wake up.

And now for another commercial break..we must thank our sponsors for today, my hair

2009-06-24T18:03:00.000-07:00

Okay I wear my hair short for very simple reasons. Please listen very carefully as I divulge these reasons.
1. I don’t like combing- I had an afro which sometimes if I pulled had enough came into a rude puff (pouting n all, threatening to burst out) for a while, and that was a very hectic time, combing took up the biggest part of my day- dressing up became 2 hours longer- all because hair had to be combed or designed or is it styled?
2. I got tired of checking the weather- you see I had to make sure I didn’t get rained on or else my hair would shrink into this mean tight mass on head and hence forth scare people around me. Then I couldn’t afford windy conditions as it hair soon followed the wind and would remain in a state of suspended animation dependent on where the wind left it. Then I couldn’t do dust and my lovely hometown is also hometown to dust, or else my hair would appear in brownish hues. U get my drift? I just got fed up of looking over my shoulder to see what weather was coming up and whether I needed to hide until the sun came out. The sun was kinder to my afro; however my preferred weather is rain n wind...things that my hair couldn’t work with.
3. I got tired of mirror checks.- I had to always check myself out, check the hair was in position, pat it down or comb it some more. Too tired, and I didn’t have a personal assistant.
4. I loathe salons- an afro meant I frequented the salon more often; I needed help washing and oiling it. My experience is that the less I see of saloons especially their insides, the better.
5. I know nothing about hair oil; I was always getting confused about what hair product to use, even more confusing when u have natural hair. Eventually the products I found were strangely the most expensive ones. I smelt a conspiracy. Or maybe it was my ignorance causing a stink.
6. I had a fight with my afro one morning- it just wouldn’t get styled...so I marched to the saloon where the man then cut it off....
I was excited with my new short hair: for one, I could actually comb with my fingers. Yet my life with short hair has caused me even more angst, why? I have noted with growing dismay that my short hair is growing- combing has become a dedicated daily battle again.
Plus, I am still enthralled in battles with hair products- I lied to myself, thinking I wouldn’t need them for this short stuff....and while I no longer suffer from the adverse effects of weather changes on my hair’s appearance, I now have to run from my beautiful friends who can’t get enough of my short stuff. Apparently, my hair is very soft to touch, and I have hence been turned into guinea pigs by my friends, surprised that my nappy hair is so alluringly soft. I am not surprised- they should touch my dad’s- they will be in awe. `
Further to my growing dismay, I look forward to resurrecting my afro days...this episode continues to grow on me.

In case you are wondering, the Kenyan wears her hair in braids. lovely curly braids. I banished braids from my hair country- the process was too long and painful when it was time for the braids to get out. But scientists that know me, like my mother and sister, argue that this pain was brought on because i allowed the braids too often to literally become one with my hair....i left the braids in too long. so much for braiding.

The Ugandan...with short hair...that’s growing...

and now for a commercial break

2009-06-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

When we are not finding reasons to quarrel about why some Kenyans n Ugandans are quarrelling about the slum rock a.k.a Migingo, we are hiding from our dissertations. Dissertations are best selling books that you have to write if you choose to go higher in your education- these bestselling books are usually kept by the university. And they don’t have pictures or cartoons. The process leading to the completion of writing these best sellers (though there are those sticklers for academia who refer to them as ‘research projects’) is usually, not very polite, at least to me. Thus far the process requires I cut down on my naps, much needed naps (sleep is my preferred beauty regime), listening to dramas n comedies on BBC IPlayer (one of the reasons I am thankful to God for this country), reading novels (currently getting through the 1,462 pages of the Count of Monte Cristo- I absolutely recommend it) and convincing myself to visit other people n have them prepare dinner for me.. So I have cut back on these things that I might give full focus and love to the dissertation. But other things distract...I have found that it is easier to find reasons why I shouldn’t work on my dissertation every time I know I should be working on it...when I am done distracting myself, I start hiding from my dissertation which by now you will have deciphered includes alot of mundane things of which the biggest is academic writing-I abhor it completely. So I hide from my dissertation, my conscience haunts me badly...so off to my dissertation I go. I wonder how the Kenyan fares here.
The Ugandan...

Reaching out across the Source of the Nile

2009-06-09T10:51:00.001-07:00

It has taken a while before I could 'pick up my pen' and write a response to the allegations in form of an introduction by my dear friend from across the source of the Nile. Maybe part of the reason was to dispute some of her claims about my feisty attitude locked up in my spritely demeanour by a delayed response to her accusations that I can take on an army of 300 with a tongue lashing (ok I exaggerate however that is how damning her words were).

The girl from the country known as the Pearl of Africa colourfully named Olivia Joy, whose initials are O.J can also be used as an acronym for orange juice and the ironically shared with he of 'if the glove doesn't fit' fame Orenthal James Simpson convinced me that the two of us should share our lives in the world wide web through a blog. Let me pay due diligence and introduce OJ as she introduced me, she is a Ugandan as you may have figured is a not so sane, funny yet soft and gentle natured lady unless and until you mention the words Idi Amin at which point the adjectives tend to swerve from the positive axis to downright violent. As you may have noticed she is good with the pen and needless to say journalism is her forte. It is strange however, that in Bradford she is always the last to know things, i could give her the benefit of the doubt that she likes to verify her facts but truly its the hibernation that has thrown her journalistic senses off course. Let me explain, we got to snowy and rarely sunny Bradford in September 2009. This has been a total of eight months amounting to 240 days which equal to approximately 5,760 hours. Of these hours our lives are broken down performing the following rituals; studying, attending lectures and seminars, writing essays, socializing, eating and finally sleeping. For OJ the past 240 days she has spent about 4,362 hours in hibernation not mention the twenty minutes she took to write that first post.

Well, we both had to fight the devil of procrastination and laziness and set this up. Clearly my fight took longer seeing that I respond after all this long. As she mentioned, that we seek unity in the face of pending conflict between our two countries over a one acre slum in the middle of the Source of the Nile. We decided that this would break our silence and bring us back to the table literally. I had refused to feed her every Tuesday as had been the case prior to her president calling my kinfolk (who happen to include POTUS) mad jaruo's. Yes unfortunately the battle for Migingo found a stage in a little city in the United Kingdom known as Bradford. OJ after considering the damage to her dietary requirements decided that she should host a conciliatory lunch where all in attendance would wear East African attire in order to make a case for conciliation (read Tuesday dinner).

I must admit OJ deserves to be given a number of plus vehicles and a title as Minister for Migingo relations as she managed to singlehandedly mend fences or should I say find a way to my heart through my stomach by laying out a feast fit for Kings or in this case me. In order to make this official, she invited delegates otherwise refereed to as hungry students who love a free lunch stemming from different parts of the globe. Needless to say this commitment to her Tuesday dinner was admirable and I speaking on behalf of the 'Mad Jaruos' and Kenya decided that I will reinstate her dinner privileges much to the dismay of her doctor who claims that she is overweight on condition that a visitors book similar to the one in Migingo Island is signed upon her entry and exit at my place of abode. The book is blue in colour and has two columns marked OJ in and OJ out.

An update of the island dispute, I hear that the President of Kenya, Kibaki himself made a public declaration, despite my numerous petitions titled 'Wakenya tungoe reli' – lets uproot the railway to Uganda as a form of economic sanctions to his office, has decided that we must pursue diplomatic means to resolve this dispute. I will not retreat nor surrender, my petitions continue to inundate the statehouse inbox.

Signed .... the Kenyan

Island...the Kenyan meets the Ugandan...we hang out and fight

2009-05-22T17:33:00.001-07:00

Aha! I have finally beaten the devil of procrastination (thank u Lord!) and finally started a blog- it has been four years- but it is finally here- a round of applause is in order. Go in, indulge yourself, clap for me...and Pauline.

Pauline is little, loud and feisty- if you need to get back money from anyone that owes you- hire Pauline, besides she has a sweet look that masks the mean fighter in her. I don't mess with her. I just show up at her place and she feeds me...no wonder the Doc tells me I am overweight. Pauline, off with that Doctor's head- the nerve of the doctor!!

This is Migingo Island where Kenya and Uganda fight over a slum. Okay it’s not just a slum...it’s a rocky slum island- and apparently we are squabbling over the tasty fish...ummm, yummy. Reliable sources inform me that the quarrel is about who owns the island- Kenya or Uganda?
The quarrel continue and it is spicy hot- forget Jack Bauer! Not too long ago, my President insulted the Kenyan community, particularly, Pauline and her peoples...he called them 'mad Jaluos'. In no time, Pauline, feisty Kenyan fighter, had declared war on me, hapless peace loving Ugandan. Suddenly she would no longer cook for me..feed me...

Thus the past days I have been on my knees grovelling to the Kenyan community. I went so far as to put out a disclaimer on my President's remarks..something to the effect, that his remarks by no means indicate that I think Pauline and her peoples 'mad'...on the contrary I think so highly of them I can't publish my thoughts publicly. Did I mention, Pauline is a lawyer? One must be careful how one words his/her thoughts.

In his defence, my President claims he was didn't insult all Luos- only a section of them, the mad ones specifically. And so he was 'misquoted' by the 'hyper Kenyan media'....
The last I heard of this gripping thriller- my wonderful President was asking Kenya to apologise...once again, the disclaimer works for me very well. He also said of this Migingo Island (which is on the border of Kenya and Uganda), that the island itself (the land) is in Kenya and the water is in Uganda! Ha! My president is clever- thus the fish are all Ugandan.

I have thus appointed myself, 'Minister for Kenya especially the aggrieved Luo Community' in the Uganda Government.

Now the trick is how to get my President to notice my hard work and set me up with a swanky office, 4X4, beefy body guards donning shades, all dressed in black.....
If you haven't worked it out- the blog features the two: the Kenyan a.k.a Pauline and the Ugandan ...sweetness itself.

the Ugandan...