Oil?!
Where WAS I?
Black gold, National pride,
bragging rights, international heights.
Hydrocarbons that power the planet
for corporations that rule the world!
Geopolitical relevance amidst geostrategic geography!
And they all chorus: "Twende Turkana"
As they march along.
But how the cake is cut
remains to be seen.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Preparing for Resistance
It is one thing to see the ongoing systemwide transition towards a New World Order and to recognize the dangers it poses to communities and individuals. It is quite something else to try to envision if at all one can fit into such an unjust structure, and how.
Fact is, every day we come closer to the point where moral theory must be tested in practice, where good intentions must reflect in actions. It takes understanding to know the truth, but strength from above to act in truth no matter what.
My perspective of late is turning inwards, which I think is a stage I must pass through to get over. But it is uncomfortable due to all the things it shows me about myself, all the self-contradicting gaps I whitewash and ignore, my weakness and occasional hypocrisy. However, I must remember that the journey ahead is of more importance than what I've left behind. Focus.
And I'm leaving a lot behind; heavy baggage. For one, I've had to face the fact the my sentimental ties to The Ex are more harm than good - its latter end is only more pain looming in the uncertain future. Even worse, it's been fuelled by nostalgia of a past long lost, and driven by ego. Its concept, rationale and objectives are all faulty. It's time I cut my losses. Hard to take, but necessary to know.
We, the whole world, are tottering on the rim of the great chasm of history known Biblically as "the Great Tribulation." Quite shortly the things at stake will become obvious to anyone who cares to find out. Funny time to be taking on social responsibilities; yet faith keeps us obstinate in the hope that GOD will provide. Change may be coming, but GOD never changes.
In GOD we trust.
Fact is, every day we come closer to the point where moral theory must be tested in practice, where good intentions must reflect in actions. It takes understanding to know the truth, but strength from above to act in truth no matter what.
My perspective of late is turning inwards, which I think is a stage I must pass through to get over. But it is uncomfortable due to all the things it shows me about myself, all the self-contradicting gaps I whitewash and ignore, my weakness and occasional hypocrisy. However, I must remember that the journey ahead is of more importance than what I've left behind. Focus.
And I'm leaving a lot behind; heavy baggage. For one, I've had to face the fact the my sentimental ties to The Ex are more harm than good - its latter end is only more pain looming in the uncertain future. Even worse, it's been fuelled by nostalgia of a past long lost, and driven by ego. Its concept, rationale and objectives are all faulty. It's time I cut my losses. Hard to take, but necessary to know.
We, the whole world, are tottering on the rim of the great chasm of history known Biblically as "the Great Tribulation." Quite shortly the things at stake will become obvious to anyone who cares to find out. Funny time to be taking on social responsibilities; yet faith keeps us obstinate in the hope that GOD will provide. Change may be coming, but GOD never changes.
In GOD we trust.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Random Snapshot
I took my battle-worn soccer boot to a cobbler for needful structural refurbishments.
While there, seated and lost in watching the cobbler's calloused hands weaving tough thread through tough leather, along came a lady with a pastic bag full of shiny six-inch stilletoes - all with broken heels. She hands them to the cobbler one by one.
The cobbler patiently examines each of her high-heeled shoes, tapping their broken heels against each other, creating a hollow plastic percussion.
Then he looked in her eyes and said sombrely, "Just take these ones to a metal welder."
I almost choked to death stifling my own laughter as he handed them back.
While there, seated and lost in watching the cobbler's calloused hands weaving tough thread through tough leather, along came a lady with a pastic bag full of shiny six-inch stilletoes - all with broken heels. She hands them to the cobbler one by one.
The cobbler patiently examines each of her high-heeled shoes, tapping their broken heels against each other, creating a hollow plastic percussion.
Then he looked in her eyes and said sombrely, "Just take these ones to a metal welder."
I almost choked to death stifling my own laughter as he handed them back.
Eleven factoids
One of my favorite blogger-friends, @Akellove, tagged me in one of those "tag others" list things. Now I'm not big on divulging my random details and asking others to divulge their personal details unless it's a date and we're gelling. But in the interest of treading new frontiers, I'll shed my prudish tendencies for now. Besides, I was tagged alongside what I think is an awesome bunch of fabfollows for enhancing my twitter experience.
Post rules
** Post 11 random things about yourself
** Answer questions posted by the person who tagged you
** Create 11 questions and tag 11 people to answer your questions
** Notify those tagged of the game
** Notify the person who tagged you after you have answered the questions
** No tag backs
11 random things about myself
1. I'm the least random person I know - after my mother. I need my own actions to make sense to me most of the time. Can you understand that?
2. I hate pineapples. I don't know why, I just remember the day I made that decision. I was five, or something juvenile like that.
3. I'm a simpleton. Convoluted gadgetry does not rock my bones. My tastes are rudimentary.
4. I talk to myself sometimes. Being alone a lot does that to you.
5. I think I'm too well rounded to specialize. Jack of all "trades", master of none. At least for now.
6. I think too much.
7. My first real crush was in 1996. It was INTENSE.
8. Chocolate is my guilty pleasure.
9. I'm NOT a morning person. Hoping to NEVER have to become one. Average sleep time is 2am.
10. I'm running out of random things about myself. (???)
11. All these "I" statements turn me off. I hate talking about myself. Ugh, I just did it again. And again. Yuck.
@Akellove's 11 questions
1. What country have you always wanted to go to?
Brazil; the whole culture, flamenco dancers are awesome. Rwanda; greenery.
2. Do you believe in the traditional sense of heaven and hell (harps, angels, brimstone, wailing and gnashing of teeth)? Discuss (lol)
Yes. It's Biblical. Not eternal torture of hellfire though. Eternal life is for the elect.
3. What is your favorite book/author?
Chimamanda Adichie. Maybe its someone else, I read obsessively, but she on my mind right now.
4. What did you think of Avengers?
Awesome! Because @Akellove said so. I haven't watched it, will try though.
5. What New Year's resolution have you actually kept?
Not a single one, sorry to say.
6. Where is the best place to kiss? (interpret that as you will ;o) :D)
Luscious sensuous lips.
7. What's the last thing you ate?
Chapati and honey!
8. How many people know your deepest, darkest secret?
Three; Me, myself and I.
9. Do you do charity work?
Sometimes!
10.Do you have a tattoo, and of what?
None, none planned.
11.What is the biggest lie you have ever told?
It was too massive and it was discovered so I still quake with shame to this day!
Rules I prefer to break
** Create 11 questions and tag 11 people to answer your questions. (Live and let live, I say.)
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Pyramid Schemes
If Ponzi Schemes are criminal then empires should be in jail without parole for countless millennia, because all they do is suck up the small man’s inputs and concentrate all the good stuff with the big guy.
Empires have always been about exploitation, since long before Ancient Egypt even to this day. What kind of mind drew up the idea of the first army? How did they manage to convince thinking men to form armies and attack strangers? Hint: they were manipulative and cunning.
Empires were so brutal back in the day that, for example, it took ten divine plagues and an entire army drowning along with its king just to secure the eventual release Egypt’s slaves. Sorta shows me how much was at stake in maintaining the imperial labor force. And the only way to profit from such a demoralized labor force would have been to suck them dry, sweat them out, not to give them the ballot. Today’s empires faithfully follow format: drain the workers' joy, drown their hopes, give them a regular compromised ballot, distract and disorient them with mass media, blind them to their own slavery.
The police was and remains a good idea though, when it works. It keeps society’s order, our collective basic backbone, alive. It preserves peace and apprehends suspects. But then the wrong kind of people appear in Parliament to write the laws. That is, people who “protecting life and property” interprets in their heads as “protecting property from low-lives”. Because this is their leader’s default perspective, the followers (citizens) and enforcers (cops) also begin to breathe in the infectious intellectual corruption. The blind leading the blind both fall into a ditch. And we all suffer, because society becomes ridiculous from that point onwards.
The empire’s law is the empire’s interest, both in intent and in practice. It is a de facto legalized Ponzi Scheme. The law is an ass, they say, but it’s authors must take the blame for it, not take leisurely rides on it!
Empire survive to this day; don’t let the flapping in the breeze of hundreds of flags confuse you. In international fora, ceremonial leaders exchange long speeches , worry many superficial worries and eventually go back to their imperial postings. East or West, it matters little which way we vote while exploitation is the deal. Which hyena do you expect will crunch your bones better?
The socially stratospheric geostrategic-minded jousters behind all this are glad to spend the rest of their days sparring for control, for power – after all, they have the footsoldiers to wage their proxy wars. It’s like a mere chess game for all the impact it makes to their individual lives. Pride is at stake. Deaths and debilitations must be mentioned under miscellaneous statistics as collateral damage.
Recognize empires then, that their system of wealth remains constant throughout history, with an upper-class that is practically untouchable for the most part, and so far removed by circumstance from the lower classes that they are literally worshipped. It takes a certain cold and calculated kind of thinking to maintain any such system and hide it behind whatever ideology. It takes a certain strength of delusion to close one’s eyes to consequence and to narrow focus on the benefits to be reaped from bloodsucking.
Remember Ancient Babylon, in which Emperor Nebudchadnezzar felt so good about his self-built capital city that he fell to pride and bragging. Yet he confessed one hard-learnt lesson eventually: “The LORD rules over the affairs of men.”
From the book of Daniel:
See your empires and consider this: could they stand judgment?
Empires have always been about exploitation, since long before Ancient Egypt even to this day. What kind of mind drew up the idea of the first army? How did they manage to convince thinking men to form armies and attack strangers? Hint: they were manipulative and cunning.
Empires were so brutal back in the day that, for example, it took ten divine plagues and an entire army drowning along with its king just to secure the eventual release Egypt’s slaves. Sorta shows me how much was at stake in maintaining the imperial labor force. And the only way to profit from such a demoralized labor force would have been to suck them dry, sweat them out, not to give them the ballot. Today’s empires faithfully follow format: drain the workers' joy, drown their hopes, give them a regular compromised ballot, distract and disorient them with mass media, blind them to their own slavery.
The police was and remains a good idea though, when it works. It keeps society’s order, our collective basic backbone, alive. It preserves peace and apprehends suspects. But then the wrong kind of people appear in Parliament to write the laws. That is, people who “protecting life and property” interprets in their heads as “protecting property from low-lives”. Because this is their leader’s default perspective, the followers (citizens) and enforcers (cops) also begin to breathe in the infectious intellectual corruption. The blind leading the blind both fall into a ditch. And we all suffer, because society becomes ridiculous from that point onwards.
The empire’s law is the empire’s interest, both in intent and in practice. It is a de facto legalized Ponzi Scheme. The law is an ass, they say, but it’s authors must take the blame for it, not take leisurely rides on it!
Empire survive to this day; don’t let the flapping in the breeze of hundreds of flags confuse you. In international fora, ceremonial leaders exchange long speeches , worry many superficial worries and eventually go back to their imperial postings. East or West, it matters little which way we vote while exploitation is the deal. Which hyena do you expect will crunch your bones better?
The socially stratospheric geostrategic-minded jousters behind all this are glad to spend the rest of their days sparring for control, for power – after all, they have the footsoldiers to wage their proxy wars. It’s like a mere chess game for all the impact it makes to their individual lives. Pride is at stake. Deaths and debilitations must be mentioned under miscellaneous statistics as collateral damage.
Recognize empires then, that their system of wealth remains constant throughout history, with an upper-class that is practically untouchable for the most part, and so far removed by circumstance from the lower classes that they are literally worshipped. It takes a certain cold and calculated kind of thinking to maintain any such system and hide it behind whatever ideology. It takes a certain strength of delusion to close one’s eyes to consequence and to narrow focus on the benefits to be reaped from bloodsucking.
Remember Ancient Babylon, in which Emperor Nebudchadnezzar felt so good about his self-built capital city that he fell to pride and bragging. Yet he confessed one hard-learnt lesson eventually: “The LORD rules over the affairs of men.”
From the book of Daniel:
{ 4:34} And at the end of the days I Nebuchadnezzar lifted up mine eyes unto heaven, and mine understanding returned unto me, and I blessed the most High, and I praised and honoured him that liveth forever, whose dominion [is] an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom [is] from generation to generation:
{4:35} And all the inhabitants of the earth [are] reputed as nothing: and he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and [among] the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou?
{4:36} At the same time my reason returned unto me; and for the glory of my kingdom, mine honour and brightness returned unto me; and my counsellors and my lords sought unto me; and I was established in my kingdom, and excellent majesty was added unto me.
{4:37} Now I Nebuchadnezzar praise and extol and honour the King of heaven, all whose works [are] truth, and his ways judgment: and those that walk in pride he is able to abase.
See your empires and consider this: could they stand judgment?
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Comfort Zone
Confession: I play soccer obsessively.
My best friend (or is it former best friend) recently helped me to accept this. I bragged to her about travelling all the way from Bungoma to Kisumu just to play a soccer match, and she responded with "You're nursing an addiction."
Big deal.
The other week, between trips to Western Province, which I will blog about soon, I discovered a new soccer team right in the heart of Kisumu City. My joy at being permitted to train with them can not be adequately conveyed. You should have seen my smile. It was a breath of fresh air as I had outgrown my former soccer mates (I had always been older than the majority of them but my few agemates got jobs and ladies so...) I shifted teams.
Indeed I may be nursing a self-destructive addiction to soccer but this subjective phraseology won't bother me much. I have realised that I'm happiest when I'm playing soccer; not even as happy when I'm watching professionals playing it. Five to six o'clock pm has become the highlight of my day and my focus from waking moment onwards.
The danger is that this fascination could blind me to other aspects of my life I should be pursuing. Like the job search thing. Of late I have resigned myself to the idea that anyone who gets a job is either lucky, well-linked or legendary. After this thought I shrug and pull on my boots. Any twinges of guilt about taking life for granted will be dealt with as I dribble nimbly and flit-footedly between the bodies of worthy opponents.
Afterwards I'm so tired I do not think too much about my social, professional or even economic life (or death).
Now that's what I call a comfort zone.
*whistle blows*
My best friend (or is it former best friend) recently helped me to accept this. I bragged to her about travelling all the way from Bungoma to Kisumu just to play a soccer match, and she responded with "You're nursing an addiction."
Big deal.
The other week, between trips to Western Province, which I will blog about soon, I discovered a new soccer team right in the heart of Kisumu City. My joy at being permitted to train with them can not be adequately conveyed. You should have seen my smile. It was a breath of fresh air as I had outgrown my former soccer mates (I had always been older than the majority of them but my few agemates got jobs and ladies so...) I shifted teams.
Indeed I may be nursing a self-destructive addiction to soccer but this subjective phraseology won't bother me much. I have realised that I'm happiest when I'm playing soccer; not even as happy when I'm watching professionals playing it. Five to six o'clock pm has become the highlight of my day and my focus from waking moment onwards.
The danger is that this fascination could blind me to other aspects of my life I should be pursuing. Like the job search thing. Of late I have resigned myself to the idea that anyone who gets a job is either lucky, well-linked or legendary. After this thought I shrug and pull on my boots. Any twinges of guilt about taking life for granted will be dealt with as I dribble nimbly and flit-footedly between the bodies of worthy opponents.
Afterwards I'm so tired I do not think too much about my social, professional or even economic life (or death).
Now that's what I call a comfort zone.
*whistle blows*
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Connectivity
The machine wraps its wiry tentacles around the globe
until all kinds of cables crisscross the Earth's crust
Electricity, cable TV and wireless chemtrails
tarmac cables and phone cables and undersea fiber;
The grid exponentially self-replicates
its high-strung live wires charged with voltage
its coated cables encasing the planet in a net
its ideologues chanting "Power to the People!"
Satellites in the sky oversee the process
of information at highest download speeds
devices exchanging documents codes and data,
entertainment for the lowest common denominator
The machine has no soul
its grinding wheels turn incessantly
Its faceless façade fixedly indifferent
to all the lives its cables connect
its high-strung live wires charged with voltage
its coated cables encasing the planet in a net
its ideologues chanting "Power to the People!"
Satellites in the sky oversee the process
of information at highest download speeds
devices exchanging documents codes and data,
entertainment for the lowest common denominator
The machine has no soul
its grinding wheels turn incessantly
Its faceless façade fixedly indifferent
to all the lives its cables connect
Friday, May 11, 2012
Failure to Perform
Men regard themselves in the light of their usefulness to society. Thus, male unemployment results in low male self esteem. This is because a man's perceived contribution to society is tightly bundled with his own positive or negative conception of his identity and worth.
While this raises the spectre of ultracompetitive behavior in males, it remains an inevitable fact of the male psyche. A guy who feels like society's third wheel, say due to unemployment, feels it heavily as a bad reflection on himself. The resentful backlash that results from such existential unease is felt particularly hard in his close personal and family relationships.
While this raises the spectre of ultracompetitive behavior in males, it remains an inevitable fact of the male psyche. A guy who feels like society's third wheel, say due to unemployment, feels it heavily as a bad reflection on himself. The resentful backlash that results from such existential unease is felt particularly hard in his close personal and family relationships.
This emotional kick in the balls can have such a far-reaching impact as to result in total failure of the actual physical balls, as corroborated by accounts of marriages and relationships which proceeded swimmingly - until the dude lost his job. Certainly the financial setback is a big worry, but the chief terminal injury to the relationship is the man's utter inability to construct a relevant self-narrative of his own usefulness in the world. Needless to say, this attitude only births a self-perpetuating downward spiral, but a man will be a man even if it literally kills him.
In short, if a man doesn't get up to go to work, he probably can't get it up either.
In other words, failure to perform (work) is a major cause of failure to perform (sex).
More explicitly put, male unemployment is a failsafe psychological cock-blocker, which is quite effective, seeing how all sex begins in the mind.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Outside the Zone
Attempt no poetry
outside the zone;
rather sleep and dream
than force the tone
Should rhyme refuse
better leave it alone;
just relax and reduce
cerebral confusion
In incoherent fright
are grand dreams blown;
in dreams of the night
are tricks to be shown
So if you force poetry
you end up with verse three
outside the zone;
rather sleep and dream
than force the tone
Should rhyme refuse
better leave it alone;
just relax and reduce
cerebral confusion
In incoherent fright
are grand dreams blown;
in dreams of the night
are tricks to be shown
So if you force poetry
you end up with verse three
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