Life is all about context. Not everyone who takes something without asking is a thief. Not everyone who makes a sex joke is a chauvinist. Not everyone who is nice to a white person is a racist. Not everyone who makes sarcastic comments is an activist.
Let’s talk about my friend Sam. He lives in Lang’ata and spends a lot of time on Twitter. Last week, he went out with online friends. After a fun night out, he called a cab, came home, and blacked out. The next day, he woke up on his sofa in his underwear. Apparently, some thugs had followed him home and carried everything except his sofa, because they couldn’t get him off it.
Being a normal middle class citizen, he went to the police. They laughed as he gave them receipts for all his electronics, complete with serial numbers. They took his statement, and told him he was the third guy in the building to be robbed that week. They asked him to fuel their car so they could inspect the crime scene.
There’s been a lot of talk about the Marriage Bill, so while I’m ambivalent over nuptials, I figured I should at least read it. One particular section left me in stitches.
Where do I even begin? Okay, let’s start here. For that clause to be included in the bill, it must have happened more than once. I mean, one assumes our learned friends don’t just pull legal articles out of their nether regions, right? It’s like those insane warnings on the labels of Chinese consumer products. By the time you’re warned not to stick wires up your nose, at least three people must have tried it, yes?
Okay. Now, at what point do you take your spouse to court for refusing to sleep with you? How does that conversation even begin? And even if you DID take them to court, would you really want to be in bed with someone who’s only there via court order? Wouldn’t that take some of the enjoyment away?
Also, where’s your pride? Wouldn’t it be just a *little bit* embarrassing explaining to a judge, lawyers, and witnesses that you’ve gathered them all in that serious-looking courtroom because you’re not getting any? Wouldn’t it be easier to bribe, charm, or entice your spouse into bed with gifts, cash, or porn?
But then again, maybe it’s just me. I don’t see anyone else complaining or even remarking over that particular sentence. Maybe for the rest of the population, it’s perfectly okay to get a court order that demands marital sex. After all, wasn’t that the reasoning behind the Mututho Law?
I’ve wanted a sofa-bed for the longest time. But the one at Tuskys costs 17K, and the one at Nakumatt is 44K. A few months ago, I figured I should just get an extra long couch, then someone could sleep on it at night. A certain fundi had done some good work for me earlier, and had promised to make me a sofa for 4K (in all fairness, that was three years ago). So I went looking for him. Sadly, according to his neighbours, he moved his workshop to shags. Aw crud.
There are about 69 fundis in me neighbourhood, so I started wandering around aimlessly, hoping and praying (yes, I was actually praying) to find the right one. After maybe half an hour, I found one fundi who was willing to make one for 5K. I told him it needed to be solid enough to sleep on, and he suggested creating a reversible back rest so I could unfold it and sleep on it at night. Eureka!
He would charge me an additional 3K for high density cushions, and 1,500 for three sina-shida stools (my kitchen counter doubles as a dining table, and it’s unusually high). When I placed the order, I paid a deposit of 5K, and he promised me they’d be ready in a week. I told him I was going on a business trip, so I’d pick them up in two. Sawa.
On the appointed Tuesday, I called him to check if my stuff was ready. He said the weather had been bad, so the wood hadn’t dried, and could not be used for construction. Okay. When will the wood be dry? Next Tuesday. I said I’d come on Saturday, which gave him four extra days to get my stuff done. Haya.
A teenage girl is jogging in her neighbourhood. A car starts following her. The car is full of boys. This is not the beginning of some day-time movie. This is something that happened just a few days ago.
How do you suppose that scenario turned out? If it was a movie, it wouldn’t be pretty. In regular life, the girl probably got intimidated and stopped jogging, which messes her health routine, and does a lot of damage to her mind. Those boys may not have said a word, or even laid a hand on her, but can you imagine what was going through her head, and what those thoughts are still doing to her? Now, reverse the roles for a second. Imagine it was a (teenage) guy jogging, and being followed around by a car full of girls. I doubt he’d be unhappy about it, let alone traumatised …
I’m not a bra-burning feminist. I quite like my bras actually. They’re comfy and fluffy and just a tad pricey. That said, I’m the single mother of a feisty, gorgeous, pre-teenage baby girl. I also live in hoodies and jeans, and wear my hair in short purple dreadlocks, so women’s lib comes up around me a lot. Plus, I have first hand experience with rape, so it’s a big issue for me.
The short version of it is that Ogunda(this guy who got booted from the police for somehow money laundering) found his way into Raph Lover’s house wife which led to Raph filing for divorce. Around the same time, Ogunda also started filing for divorce from his wife as well. Anyway, after a few more back and forths in court for Raph Lover and Ogunda, Ogunda was found dead one morning in Raph Lover’s house.
When asked what he thought of the situation, Raph responded by saying:
“There was an existing court order that barred him (Mr Ogunda) from going to any of my premises and it’s unfortunate his death occurred at my premises.”
That’s just gangsta. The guy that was ploughing your wife just died in your house in an obvious murder and your reaction is the legalese version of “Well, that negro shouldna been there in the first place, let alone die there.” Continue reading →