Usinimwagie unga boss- seller of old stolen radios

Usinimwagie unga boss- seller of old stolen radios

H

e wonders why I can’t mind my own business. That is the curse of being a journalist. Others’ business are our business. We are nosy, poking our sniffer buds on suspicious smells right left and center.

By MUSYOKA NGUI

Old radios alleged to be stolen cache on display

I bumped into an especially difficult interviewee. He was stern that no photos should be taken on his wide array of recycled assembly of radios, TVs and shaving machines.

What piqued my curiosity at first was the fact that the radios bore the same gray color. The TVs were black and from the distance they looked inoperable. The electronics, out of age were scratched and had several missing parts.

The limelight was on the verge of being shone to this otherwise shadowy trader of fake contraband. Suddenly there was a commotion as a crowd milled around the stand which was located along an already busy road.

Then I heard “Boss usinimwagie unga”

“Nataka tu kupiga picha”

“No no no. Si wewe watoto wako wakona chakula?”

“Eeh”

“Basi wachana na mimi nitafute unga.”

“Kidogo….”

“Sitaki.”

I later learned through an informer that the cache is allegedly stolen and sold away at a throw away price. Buying the said machines can land new owners to trouble since the law does not excuse ownership of stolen items. Actually the buyer could be charged with abetting theft and thus an accomplice.

Then should investigations reveal that the crime was violent the stiffest penalty is to serve a life sentence. Life sentence is a euphemism for being condemned to hang by a judge. Since in Kenya hanging is not implementable, yet convicts are sent to the gallows every day, the hangman seems a very idle person since 1987 when Hezekiah Ochukah, the military soldier  who was implicated in the infamous 1982 coup against Moi regime had his neck strangled in what was interpreted to be a mockery of international human rights law. And so like that Ochukah had his last breath snuffed.

That explains the mortal fear the seller of stolen paraphernalia. He did not want to be filmed. He knows and understands he deals in the underworld. He is upsetting the economy with dirty money. Why want to clean his filthy hands? He wonders why I can’t mind my own business. That is the curse of being a journalist. Others’ business are our business. We are nosy, poking our sniffer buds on suspicious smells right left and center.

100 Days of Never Saying Goodbye

100 Days of Never Saying Goodbye

P

erhaps the best way to say goodbye is not to say goodbye at all. Sometimes it can become messy, long and drawn out like the KDF incursion into Somalia. Then you are left wondering how you will leave when you are tangled. Those tangos are quite chains we should have courage to break and go.

By MUSYOKA NGUI

When the time to part arrives it becomes a critical juncture that people, places and things must depart.  No matter the how many times we say we will miss each other is the point is never home. “I will miss you”, “I am going to miss you”, and “I will never let you go”, “I will never say goodbye”. And “bye is not in my dictionary”. These are some of the last sentimental and emotional words comrades uttered to each other alongside the regular wishes for a good job, healthy body, mind and soul and journey mercies.

But there is some form of connection that comes with being around. Sooner or later people will realize that out of sight out of mind and only the truly caring pals will remain in touch. But as those who ask questions for a living we’ve been taught never to be contented with superficial answers signifying nothing.  So when someone says he or she will miss you what do you reply? Miss you too? Never. That is clinical and administrative. It is like architecture; cast in stone without room for creativity and curiosity.

Someone said that (I will miss you) to me and I asked “What will you miss about me?” /Answer: Your questions. /Question: What about them? / They were many. /Nagging? /No. Searching. With that I was tasked with getting a souvenir for remembrance. Then I was left wondering if a souvenir should be an object, tangible or fluid.  Is a kiss a souvenir? What about a long and tight hug? And a handshake? A warm grip with an African angle and lingering?

Perhaps the best way to say goodbye is not to say goodbye at all. Sometimes it can become messy, long and drawn out like the KDF incursion into Somalia. Then you are left wondering how you will leave when you are tangled. Those tangos are quite chains we should have courage to break and go.

I love parting because it is riddled with a sense of challenge and freedom. At times uncertainties and risks. Leaving a comfort zone you have known for years is not easy especially for the conservative. It takes some liberty of mind and dare of body to take the first step which in turn turns out to be the first in many more on such a direction you’d love to look back in nostalgia and say, “Look how far I have come?”

The best way to leave as I said is going without a final act. Yes, you may be holding the script but you can freestyle. After all, you know the words by heart.  I left campus in one drizzling evening when the sun was setting and clouds gathering for a downpour. The symbolism of carrying my luggage with the help of a bodaboda operator and later a matatu revealed to me how rich I was that things could not fit in the suitcases. The bulging bags showed me that I needed more room for growth. Thus I was doing the right thing going away from campus for good.

I couldn’t help but notice the ghost village of Ndagani getting smaller and smaller on the rear mirror. Since I had overstayed for a week plus I noticed the vibrancy of student life had died down. The busy streets and walkways we shared gladly were now deserted. Most businesses were closed too. Those open were shy to open early or close late. They just did business briefly and silently. The Ndagani economy was crumbling day by day and will remain so for the next 100 days. Till continuing students and freshmen report back September. Until Gown Day.

Those we did not finish university with

Those we did not finish university with

T

o make love they did with the business of storytelling. Like deflowering a virgin, both became attached in the hip like Siamese twins.

BY MUSYOKA NGUI

Chuka University Media Class 2015 with Dean Dr. Ngugi King'ara, and lecturers Samson Raiji and Henry Nabea

Today marks the end of the academic journey we started four years ago.  It has been long and eventful. I remember the first class when Ms. Kimani asked us to introduce ourselves by names, where we came from and if we really wanted to study Media Studies and if no what would we have pursued.

Some lad said Maths. He was told that in the entire Media Studies syllabus there is not a single calculus unit. Enoch Odhiambo would have studied political science or law. It’s good that most comrades said that they had mass media as their first love.  And to make love they did to the business of storytelling. Like breaking a virgin, both became attached in the hip like Siamese twins.

56 JOURNALISTS

Then in the course of our course some comrades bowed out. Some gracefully while others without a goodbye. Our class still remains the largest media class ever since the inception in Chuka University. At 56 and having lost quite a number on the way, the class could as well be the first draft of Jesus Christ’s disciples numbering 72.

We still keep in touch with comrades who left. Luckily, none of them had a permanent bid but some situational matter that informed either their transfer or being left behind. I am sorry I should have known my friends by names. I just remember the physical appearance of some yet I can’t quite get their full names and addresses.  Painfully, some since they left I have never heard from them.

Jael Odindo and her lady friend were a curious pair. They walked inseparably. From class to hostels to market to pavilion and Chuka. Many thought they came from the same family but truth is one came from Kisumu County and another from Homa Bay. Jael used to wear a cap. She looked like someone I knew. She was some of those people you see from far and you confuse for a lookalike then you fondly call their name only to be embarrassed that they are genes apart.  At such moments I blamed men for their DNA generosity. Yet I knew that this close semblance is the hallmark of God’s uniqueness that cannot be plagiarized.

Somewhere between the sophomore and third year we had to accept that Rehema and Ms. Njeru will not proceed with us. Rehema did not quite complete her exams so she could not get the Dean’s stamp to continue to the next class without taking those exams. That plus the lethargy and bureaucracy of public university conspired to have her left behind.

As for Ms. Njeru she was a star that topped the class. The Akorino girl wore a pressed dress and a kitambaa (head scarf) that closely wrapped her hair and partially hid her ears.  We believed she was conservative but equally thought she had a speed dial direct to Heaven. She never talked much but her transcript did the rest of explanation.

“If the death of one person is a tragedy then the death of a million is a statistic.- Saying

I was hanging around with a friend at Chuka University’s main gate when Njeru came and greeted us warmly before excusing herself to be directed to the office of the dean. She said she wanted to write a letter to the dean seeking a deferment.  It was a sad moment as we showed her the way and wished her the best. She missed some semesters so she couldn’t keep up with us. But she was exceptionally bright. When third years heard that she was joining them they were shaken. A frontrunner of first class, the third years were anxious that she will up the bar unnecessarily.  As for Media Class Of 2015, those who vied for first class heaved a heavy sign of relief and counted one more challenge out of the way. It was good riddance to them.

So Rehema and Njeru will be finishing their college studies a year after we left. But better late than never.

SHIFT OF BALANCE OF POWER

Remember that Steve Mbego namesake? Steve McOguttu transferred to Maseno University. We chat on Facebook. The self styled diplomat had an English tweng’ that spoke of some urbane upbringing. Add that to the Luo lifestyle and you get a sophisticated lad who had a polished tongue and muscular body. I remember when news broke that Dr. Ngugi is single and he and Mbego offered him to adopt them. He just adjusted his glass frames and waved.

That brings me to Mercy Kubai. She was the most experienced and senior most student in our class. A close buddy of Class Reps Susan Wangari and Gloria Makau, and herself a Sociology Class Rep, there were at least three centres of power in a class that was big enough to fill a hall and corridors. Common courses were that inconvenient. But look how far we have come.

Mercy worked with Muuga FM and Radio Citizen. I listened to her reports from Habari za Wanahabari Kutoka Mikoani (Provincial Correspondent News) presented by Mohamed Juma Njuguna after 7 pm news bulletin. She went to complete her studies at KeMU.

Although Psychology exam was one of the cheapest to be administered to media class, it ended up swallowing one of us; Doreen Chepkong’a. It was claimed that she cheated and fate had its way. She had to leave us after a few semesters of trial. I wonder what took Senate so long to pass the verdict. Doreen lost time and credibility, but my silent prayer is that she managed to pick herself up after the tragedy.

AWESOME ARMY

Elsewhere, some comrades have died and we painfully buried them. One I remember passed away when comrades were fundraising for his medical bill at Kenyatta National Hospital. Another got shot at a nearby university ostensibly going to visit his girlfriend although another version said he had stolen a laptop and defied the grace period of a student who consulted a witch doctor to declare 14 days of either returning the PC or dying mysteriously. The latter became the fate. Others, just like some Kenyans died in road accidents. They say if the death of one person is a tragedy then the death of a million is a statistic.

The 56 brave soldiers who finished the race and kept the faith like Paul I salute all of you. My hat is off. Respect. You’re awesome. To those who still have a few battles to go keep your eyes on the prize and defy distractions. You will have the last laugh. Comrade Power!

Musyoka is a writer, blogger and a journalist

Unconventional fertile grounds to hunt jobs

Unconventional fertile grounds to hunt jobs

View services you can perform as well as goods you can supply.

BY MUSYOKA NGUI

musyokangui02@gmail.com

T

he popular narrative is to know someone who knows someone to hook you up with that dream employer. But have you tried these less than regular avenues to search for jobs? They could be the difference between you tarmacking or enjoying that pay check.

LinkedIn

LinkedIn is a social networking platform for professionals. You can hook up with your colleagues, school mates, and prospective employers and create relationships likely to lead to career growth.

All you need to do is to create a LinkedIn account by your official email and track notifications from LinkedIn.  It will suggest companies that you can work for. However, before you wait for luck, be sure that you have updated your profile to present and track any current achievements you have made in the recent past so that you include them as well.

Prospective Employer

Tech savvy companies have portals where prospective job-seekers can upload and update their C Vs as they await for vacancies to occur in future. They will contact you when the opportunity opens.

Push your envelope by regularly visiting these sites and checking your official email for any viable opportunity notification.

Family and Friends

Working colleagues and relations come in handy since they are insiders in organizations which may not advertise for jobs in the media in order to cut on the advertising expenditure. 

Activate weak or strained relations with friends since they can help you. Above all, communicate effectively not just when you need them but also when they need you. Give them a reason to remember you when the opportunity arises.

Hang out with good company. Trust me, birds of a feather flock together and if you have problem interacting with professional colleagues then you are the problem and you should start switching careers and enrolling for career counseling. You may be having an underlying identity crisis that prevents you from progressing upwards in the ladder of job.

Job sites

This field has been abused by human traffickers and corrupt fellows who don’t mind selling desperate job hunters to a slave owner in some obscure Middle East theocracy to go and carry out odd chores like washing snakes, performing sexual servitude and contracting sexually transmitted diseases, injuries and dying in the Diaspora.

However, there are credible job agencies which head-hunt professional job seekers for their prospective employers. If anything you do carry out a comprehensive due diligence. Do your homework rather than being excited by plum careers. Not all that glitters is gold.

OLX

By now you have heard about Online Exchange (OLX). Beyond the fancy ads and hype it works. Visit Google Play or App Store and download OLX application for free. Then select your country, city and the type of job you are looking for. You will view services you can perform as well as goods you can supply.

Hook up with clients but do not make payments without receiving the commodity you ordered. If you must meet with clients do so in public places not secluded or private places. This will minimize harm from unscrupulous dealers.

Combine the above unconventional job tips with your regular search methods and you will stand better chances of landing that dream job. You can live your dream.

The writer is a blogger at musyokangui.blogspot.com and a Fourth Year Communication and Media student at Chuka University.