Monday, September 21, 2009
Stage ONE: As soon as you have taken possession of said vehicle;
a) Disable the speed governor – it is only installed in order to get the mat through inspection and is quite an unnecessary feature on your vehicle now;
b) Disconnect the brake lights – you don’t want anyone behind you knowing you’re going to stop for goodness sake, that would take all the fun out of it for those drivers following you on the road;
c) Remove one half of all of the seat belts – preferably the side where they should buckle in as the passengers can just drape the one side on their laps for effect and taking out the other side means less weight in the vehicle, and also for those who don’t actually have a seat, it means sharing lap straps with the neighbour is much easier, which of course is essential if you’re going to get those extra peeps in.
d) Have MOLOLINE painted on the front of your vehicle so that the traffic cops let you through without blinking, but do make sure you’re travelling at least at 110kph as you approach any police check or they’ll realise you’ve faked the sign
Stage TWO: Get it on the road;
a) Put enough fuel to get you to the stage from which you want to start your pick up service – preferably right outside your parking spot so no fuel is needed, and then save the rest of any spare cash you have on you to pay to the mungiki at the terminus to help you through living to the next day.
b) As soon as you can persuade some passengers to get in – usually nicely done with a lot of noise and a small bit of threatening about how you know where they live and you have “friends”should do it – collect some cash and then send one of the prospective peeps down to the nearest petrol station to get yourself a kasmall kibuyu of fuel to get you out of the stage and onto the main road. When you run out of fuel in the middle of the highway it seems people are so much more co-operative about shelling out their cash for fuel in a hurry.
Stage THREE; Now you’re moving, these are critical manoeuvres that should be followed at ALL times;
a) Remember never to pull over to pick up passengers, and do NOT use designated bus stops at any time – these are for buses! If you see someone standing on the side of the road, flash your lights, beep the horn and then stop dead in the middle of the road and shout for them to get in.
b) If you see more people 50 metres up the road, don’t stress, floor it and then jam the brakes on 50 metres up the road to make sure you pick them up to.
c) Continue this procedure every 50 metres or so until the mat is jam packed. All seats must be full, floor space taken and at least 3 people should be hanging out the door before you should even think about heading towards wherever these suckers want to go. You’ll have them so tightly jammed in now that they won’t have a choice but to stay with you now!
d) Always remember to indicate to the right if pulling over left or if seeing hot chick on right that you need to then stop and harass.
Finally do some serious protesting to get this new chap out and our man Hussein Ali back in so Michuki rules stay out!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Superb article sent through to me this morning that was published in the Standard the other day, and i couldn't have all you good people to miss out on so i have had reposted it here.
I'm not sure if that's the politically correct thing to do reposting others commentary but it is excellent - and as a matter of fact - probably a very un PC article in itself!
Here's the link, and below is the article ..
In the unlikely event that the British decided to rebuild the Kenya-Uganda railway, rest assured that the man-eaters of Tsavo, if they still exist, would not be carting away Indian coolies into the boondocks for snacks and dinner.
There would be no Indian coolies in the first place. Instead, the whole railway line would be bustling with youthful — and not so youthful — indigenous Kenyans under the Kazi kwa Vijana initiative.
Yet just over 100 years ago, the locals wouldn’t be caught dead doing such ‘menial’ work, to the extent that the railway line’s entire labour force had to be shipped in from India.
But if it was massive muscle drain for India, then, rounding up the descendants of those coolies today and throwing them out Idi Amin style would result in brain drain so severe that the national economy would be clobbered to its knees. How did they manage this transformation from sweaty labourers to captains of industry when locals are still doing what they were doing then — hunting squirrels, pretending to raise maize on barren land and engaging in tribal warfare every five years?
Strength to strength
Equally, the Brits who were lording it over everyone have virtually scattered. Grogan is gone; Egerton’s castle is in ruins while Lord Delamere now hawks mandazi and milk on the roadside in Naivasha.
But the Kenyan Indian just seems to grow from strength to strength.
I could hazard two reasons for this: One, the Indian doesn’t give a hoot about land. All he needs is a roof over his head and a place to sell his wares.
Wazungu, on the other hand, will lease thousands of hectares of desert land and then pretend to make money out of it from tourists.
How the hell do you do that when crooks are turning all the trees upstream into charcoal?
Africans, on the other hand, will steal and kill each other for land. But after that, they do absolutely nothing with it apart from walking around admiring farm boundaries and selecting burial spots.
The second reason is that the average Indian is more tenacious than a donkey. Note: A millionaire dukawallah will own the same pair of shoes for years unlike a local man who changes wives with his first bank loan.
It’s not easy minting money from a duka, either, as the many locals who sink their retirement benefits into roadside shops can testify. But I admire Indians most for their marriage customs. They are just brilliant, these Indian men.
How did they connive to have women pay them dowry and still manage to sit on them?
In fact, as soon as they have eaten the dowry that the bride brought, they install her in the family home so that she can take care of their aging mothers as well. Would you believe it!
And to seal the deal, they cover those women from head to toe making it virtually impossible for wife snatchers to salivate. Have you ever seen an Indian woman’s underwear?
Now contrast that with African women who seem hell bent on baring it all to the nearest passerby.
My ancestors thought they were smart yet all they cared about were useless gizzard rights. Why couldn’t they think up a scam like this? Here we pay dowry through the nose yet if one’s mother visits for two weeks, the wife issues an ultimatum: "Either that old hag goes or I’m out."
Life is, indeed, a circus!
Friday, September 11, 2009
It turns out that you cannot trip up our star Kenyan athlete without having serious balls ...........
Caster Semenya in hiding after tests reveal she has 'internal testes'
Goodness girlfriend, turns out the lippy and nail varnish really didn't work - Pole :(
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Forget the fact that she's a little butch and has a seriously deep voice.......
She dared to stand on the head of one of our own !!!!!!!!!!!!
You know, you need to understand one fundamental thing about the Kenyan people. We may be continuously trampled upon by our own government and a bunch of crooks who call themselves 'politicians' daily, but we will, under no circumstances, allow a foreigner to think they can just trip us up and walk over us into a winning position, because i can tell you one thing for nothing - We will NOT accept.
So ''Miss'' Semenya, you may get yourself a girly makeover and be on some campaign to prove to the world that you're a girl, (as word has it that ''apparently, wearing sequins and painting one's nails are proof one is, indeed, truly female), but just know ONE thing. - We couldn't actually care less which side you are batting for, we just know that if you hadn't tripped up our own Janet Jepkoskei - testosterone or no testosterone she would have kicked your butt baby!
Jepkoskei may have shaken herself off and come back for the final - because that's what it is to be Kenyan - (we do the shaking off and coming back to perfection on a daily basis) - but the poor girl wasn't given a chance to become any place but second as she had to spend her whole race watching out for those large Semenya thighs heading her way for a tripping rerun!
P.S. Please honestly tell me if you believe this is anything but a bloke dressed up in female clothing and a bad weave!