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Entering the Mind of a Serial Killer

okeyo — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 08:22:12 +0000

Most people in Kenya believe or rather associate Psychology with mind reading. The science was first introduced in the country in 1966, as an academic program in the United States International University-Africa.

Many lack sufficient knowledge of Psychology because they rely on the intrigues and counter intrigues that they witness in shows like, The Mentalist, Lie to Me and Criminal Minds. A psychologist is not a mind reader- he/she is a person who studies behaviour and mental processes more often than not linking the two to better understand human beings and animals.

Philip Onyancha claims to to have killed 17 victims in various parts of Kenya where he worked as a security guard. Photo/Fredrick Onyango.

The buzz in Kenya right now is caused by a young man, Philip Onyancha, a self-confessed serial killer. He has been working as a security guard with the G4S Company in Kenya until two months ago when he was fired. The man has confessed to killing 17 people and has taken the police to the places where he hid the bodies of his victims. He has also confessed to killing many prostitutes after having sex with them in the towns of Thika, Naivasha and Nyeri. All this also makes me highlight the fact that the criminal justice system in Kenya is a mess! The police keep no records of the people taken into custody, the courts throw out so many cases because of insufficient evidence, and the jails are nothing but a health risk to those sent there, but what does all this mean?

Onyancha, when asked his reasons for committing these crimes, simply answered “For the blood.” Now, this is where I was appalled! The police called in a psychiatrist to try and talk to him in an attempt to psychoanalyse the young man. I have nothing against psychiatrists because they work hand-in-hand with psychologists, but for this case I had a problem, what was the psychiatrist going to do? Was he going proclaim that Philip Onyancha had a mental disorder, say Schizophrenia, for example? Or was he going to commit him to medication after a clinical assessment? Onyancha’s wife and mother claim that the man they know is not a killer, because he was so humble and loving and a joyful person. But I have learned enough in Psychology to know that anyone can be dysfunctional and still put on a show of normality for social acceptance without giving any indication of his or her deviant acts.

So it would appear that Kenya needs to embrace Psychology because it looks at what makes society possible. It is a look at human behaviour, relationships, what prompts our actions and how to harmonize all aspects of our living. It is sad to say that in my country there are no laws or institutions set up to control the practice of psychology or to enhance it. There are many people around Nairobi who have set up offices, proclaiming that they are counsellors. But a professional counsellor needs to have attained at least a Post Doctorate in the field before setting up office and providing services. The result is that many Kenyans end up feeling “duped” and want nothing to do with the science.

Psychology faces so many challenges in Kenya; firstly, there is no body or institution registered under the government to control the practices that are set up by individuals. Secondly, there are no laws regulating these standards. Thirdly, there are very few universities offering the science as an academic program, and those that do have their graduates travel abroad to seek more training and experience. And the greatest challenge is that of religion, many religious people view psychology as a substitute of faith rather than a partner in ensuring the welfare of human beings and humanity as a whole.

Kenya needs to embrace Psychology to because like every country in Africa, we are heavily influenced by the West. We have borrowed their culture and ideologies and are struggling to fit them into ours without fully understanding them. The result of this has been nothing but chaos! We need to embrace Psychology because whenever we have societal problems, or issues as individuals, we cannot sit back and hope that they will one day go away, rather, we have to find the root cause of these problems, analyse them, and then figure a way out.

We should not wait for serial killers to confess to murders or for teenage pregnancies to be on the increase before seeking psychological help. We should learn more about the practice of psychology, embrace it, and use it effectively to see to a better Kenya.

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The Thousand Point Drop: When You Smell a Rat…

Evan Arnold — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 18:30:09 +0000

It is interesting to note that in a country rife with so much fraud and corruption that America still refuses to face the bull in the china shop. America remains the only country not to be outraged at the rampant ruling Plutocracy enough to rise up and voice their discontent against social vampires. We have not arrested any of the major players who have committed fraud on a scale that simply hasn’t been seen before, that makes the S&L credit scandal look like someone swiping the tips jar at a lemonade stand.

Given the phenomenal levels of fraud reported in the US as early as 2004: So far the best the US Government has done is throw bail-outs at the problem and ‘bandage’ it over, staving off a financial collapse, so far the worst the Government has done is bow to their demands. For me, the drop is nothing but further evidence of fraud and shows just how deep the tentacles of the octopus of corruption have sank into financial institutions.

In a mere half-hour on May 6^th, there was an unprecedented thousand point drop in the stock market. I watched it all play out on the television as it happened, watching money go up in smoke as I thought to myself ‘Well, that is it now isn’t it? The whole thing is going to go down faster than a drunken Goodyear blimp pilot on happy hour.’ It suddenly halted just before bouncing back six hundred points and stopping after having lost a total of three hundred and forty seven point eight points. Investors and traders alike were left scratching their heads in bewilderment as stocks took on huge losses. Two of the thirty stocks in the Dow Jones Industrial sector, Proctor & Gamble and 3M dived down thirty percent in value in roughly fifteen minutes. So what happened?

The two most popular theories at the time of the crash were the nation of Greece was responsible, or that there was a fat-finger trade. Hackers, cyber terrorism, a computer glitch and other possibilities were considered and cast aside. Since Citigroup itself said that it found no trade made that could have triggered the crash (which doesn’t mean much), Greece has essentially become the scapegoat for the market crash. There is a problem with this however. Greece as a culprit largely doesn’t make much sense. While it is true that Greece has suffered a financial crisis, it is hardly the plague-bearing ‘bad debt’ economic black death that it has been made out to be. The economy of Greece is only two percent the size of that of the United States, and only point one percent of imports from the United States are sent there. Greece is in bad shape, yes, but the chances of it demolishing the European market are very slim. I’ll talk more about the over-hyped and up-played Grecian crisis in a future article and why International Bankers love an economic situation like Greece.

If it wasn’t Greece or an actual panic brought on by the fear of a European collapse, then what was it? Max Keiser, a former broker and options trader has a few thoughts on the issue:

May 6th was an unequivocal act of domestic financial terrorism in America. A day that will live in infamy. To scare the lawmakers, themselves large owners of the very banks and stocks that they are supposed to be regulating, a financial Weapon of Mass Destruction was put to their head and they acquiesced. As the inventor of the continuous double-auction, market-making technology (VST tech. US pat. no. 5950176) that is referenced 132 times by program trading and HFT patents since 1996, I can tell you that Goldman, JP Morgan and the gang simply pulled the ‘buys’ from their computer trading programs and manufactured a crash. And when the coast was clear, and it was clear the politicians were not going to vote for anything that would break up the ‘too big to fail’ banks; all the ’sells’ were pulled from the computers and the market roared back. This is a Manchurian Candidate market where program trading bots start the ball rolling in whatever direction Wall St. wants the market to go – and then hundreds of thousands of day-traders watching Cramer on CNBC jump on the momentum bandwagon and commit the crime for the Wall St. financial terrorists, who then say, ‘It wasn’t us, it was ‘the market!’

Some of you might be thinking ‘that is quite an accusation, why would they do that?’ Well, consider this. The day after the thousand point dive, the amendment to break up the banks whom were bailed out by the US Government was defeated by a sixty one to thirty three margin in the Senate. Goldman Sachs was meeting with the SEC to work out a settlement based on its allegations; and key sections of the Federal Reserve Audit bill were removed. Is it possible to fine tune trade the market in such a manner? Before we look at answering that question, let’s go back to April of this year.

In April, Goldman Sachs stock elicited some strange behavior. While every other stock in the S&P 500 dropped, it rose. The Daily New York Times also reported over the incident, you can practically feel Michael Daily’s admiration for his masters as he gushes. It is pretty clear who’s feeding the dog here.

I would be happy to let the whole United States Senate curse at me for just a fraction of the $2.8 million Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein made while he was testifying before a subcommittee this week. The opinions of the senators carry so little weight that Goldman stock actually went up more than a buck, from $151.63 to $153.04, on a day when most of the market dropped. And since, by one recent report, he owned 2,035,364 shares, Blankfein was getting more than $2.8 million richer even as he was being vilified.

What has happened to the state of American journalism? Instead of getting nosey and asking questions, you can practically feel him begging Blankfein, a fleecier in the highest degree, for the opportunity to lick his toilets in his penthouse clean. Unfortunately, Michael Daily isn’t alone in his take on Goldman Sachs’ rising stock. Similar articles by Business week and Portfolio.com, respected news sources ran articles along the same lines as Daily’s article. Not suspicious, but full of praise. How does no one think that this is even a tad bit odd? The answer is Goldman Sachs PR department. Think about it; if you were a sleazy slime ball like Lloyd Blankfein and had a PR department, wouldn’t you use it to turn the most embarrassing day in the history of your company into a victory march?

Matt Phillips found some rather incriminating evidence concerning the stock rise, particularly an email from a trader which was in all caps and very annoying, so I won’t reproduce it here. Mr. Phillips however, finds himself among very few journalists as the majority ran stories like this one or this one. It is as if everyone has conveniently forgotten that Goldman Sachs didn’t tank the market, ruin the middle class or gorged themselves on tens of billions of tax payer funds. Instead, the investigative team put together the Senate is made to be the bad guy, while a pillager of millions of people is turned into some sort of underdog. It’s like we live in some screwed up universe where birds talk and dogs keep human pets. Was Goldman Sachs PR department involved in the sudden spike of Goldman Sachs stock, as a constant pro-Goldman spin filled the media? Was the price of the stock manipulated? And if it was manipulated, would it be a criminal or a civil matter?

For me, there is evidence to suggest that Goldman manipulated their stock during the Senatorial hearing, and the thousand point drop is further evidence of that some sort of market manipulation. Certainly, a motive to do so is there. The over-arching theme of all these newspaper articles is that politicians can’t be trusted. It is as if no one suspects anything, not that it could have been a PR Department ploy. It is one hell of assumption for these papers to make that the market operates ‘pure’, untouched by the smorgasbord of corruption that has plagued it for years, it is also a hell of an assumption to make that parties independently and suddenly decided that the politicians were liars, not Goldman-Sachs and that on the most critical day in that corporation’s life, decided to buy enough stock to have it sell for more. Just to further my point, here are two columns from the same newspaper. One pre-Goldman Sachs PR department getting kicked into high gear, one post, see any differences?

The question is then, if it is possible for one firm to manipulate its own stock, is it possible then for multiple firms to do so? Again, we only need to go back to answer this question, during the first financial panic when the first bailouts were originally given by the Bush Administration back in 2008. At the time, I did not follow the news that frequently like most Americans my age, and only knew that something ‘bad’ was happening. It wasn’t until I went back after witnessing the 1,000 point drop and poking at Goldman-Sach’s possible manipulation that the picture became complete. And what a grotesque image it was.

The financial panic that occurred and threatened to cripple the nation forced Congress to act to ‘bail-out’ these corporations, funneling trillions of dollars into the pockets of those whom that bet when their firm was sent hurtling into the ground that the Government would bail them out rather than risk collapse. This is nothing less that corporate theft and corporate terrorism. America was blackmailed, beaten, and robbed blind. This showed the very people who were willing to tank a country to deepen their accounts one thing: Exert pressure on the Government, and it will cave for you and do as you say. If you are wealthy enough, and powerful enough, then toying with a computer algorithm to make the market go where you want it to is hardly out of your grasp. Whatever happened to ‘We don’t negotiate with terrorists?’ That last crash was seven hundred and eighty eight points in a mere ten minutes. High Frequency Trading, which can account for seventy percent of all trades with stock executed with computer programs showed who ran this country then, as they did now.

Therefore, it is my solemn opinion that to call the market ‘free-trade’ is a ghastly indecency to the meaning of the word. To see the thousand point drop as ‘an accident’ when coupled with other times that such drops and rises have benefited firms and the action of a lowly trader or a nation as small as Greece is to stick your head in the sand and deny the reality of the situation. We are held hostage by financial terrorists who will stop at nothing to increase their wealth and ultimately destroy this nation. They have issued an ultimatum, that ultimatum is bow to our demands or perish in financial ruin. How we will deal with this issue, if we deal with this issue, is something to yet be seen.

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You Can’t Do That in America. Or Can You?

Evan Arnold — Sat, 15 May 2010 12:26:17 +0000

Unless you’ve spent the last few days in a coma; you probably know about the big hullabaloo concerning the Times Square Bomber. If you haven’t heard about it, it is a touching story about how some mickey-mouse incendiary device (that was about as dangerous as your average Redneck’s pick-up truck on the fourth of July) was discovered by some stoic citizens and turned in to the proper authorities. Two and a half days later, we track the guy down, take him into custody, and process him. End movie, roll credits, applause, applause, applause.

The only problem was, this wasn’t a movie folks; it wasn’t even a Lifetime special. Supposedly, that is just how it went down tit-for-tat. Please tell me I’m not the only person who smells something rotten here. The whole thing stinks, all the way from Mr. Faisal Shahzad and his ‘training’ in Pakistan to how said incendiary-device was constructed, to the man-hunt, and how the media covered it.

Faisal Shahzad was arrested in connection over a botched Times Square car bomb.

Shahzad was a recently naturalized citizen. This means that extensive background checks were performed for just this kind of thing. It is of course, entirely feasible that he developed ties to terrorists afterwards or that the background check simply missed him. But it should still raise a red-flag. As much as the media tries to make out of his ‘trips to Pakistan’ there are a still a few problems with that. First of all, he still has family in Pakistan. Why would he risk his family being interrogated and captured by the Pakistani police? Or killed by the TTP? In fact, neighbors claim that his wife and family moved out a year ago. Roughly the same time he was naturalized, and way before the bombing took place.

Secondly, I love how Mr. Faisal Shahzad is apparently attached to some regional group of the Taliban who have had no previous interest in attacking America. The TTP or Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan are supposed to have helped him build his little fireworks display. But they have next to no global capabilities, and are hardly a network the size of Al-Qaeda. Even if he graduated bomb-making 101 Magna cum Laude from Terror arts and Crafts camp, the incendiary device was incredibly lame. It only smoked and sputtered. The primary ignition device was fire-works with non-explosive fertilizer in the back and some gas cans.

This set up makes no sense. You could build a better incendiary device by putting a can of gas on top of a ketchup packet and stomping on it repeatedly to make it blow up. And yet, we are supposed to be afraid of this? It is remarkably easy to walk into a Radio Shack or other electronic/hardware store and buy an electronic timer. Purchasing the right kind of fertilizer would not have posed a problem either, as most establishment do not require any kind of background check to buy the stuff. Making a real explosive or fire-bomb would not have been out of his grasp. Even more telling is the fact that fertilizer-based explosives are common-place in Pakistan and Afghanistan. The Afghani government has even banned some of the more explosive types of fertilizer and the US Army regularly seizes the stuff when they find it. Shahzad would have heard an earful about fertilizer based explosives. So, why would he fuck up and buy non-explosive fertilizer? Why the Silver Salutes?

I’m surprised that no one mentioned the fact that this guy just got up and walked away from the incident. Terrorist cabals rely on suicide attacks for keeping their network quiet. That is why groups like Al-Qaeda have been able to survive as long as they have. Ask yourselves, what is more dramatic? Having a terrorist park a car and get out while it’s running? Or having him drive, tires squealing, engine roaring straight into his target and then detonating? Drama and terror go hand in hand for these organizations. It would be less effective and a greater risk to secrecy to have him just get up and walk out of the car, and highly unusual for a terrorist group based in that region. Furthermore, his family would have been forfeited as a price for his failure.

Some articles like this one suggest that the TTP are trying to take credit for the attack via a tape that is currently circulating the internet. However, there is one very good reason to believe that this is bullshit: the TTP themselves are *not* taking credit for the attack. Hell, even Pakistani intelligence have said that their ability to attack the US is impossible. Terrorist groups attack for attention. Why would a terrorist group come forward without any pressure and say that they do not take credit for this attack? Even though the attack was a failure, terrorist groups still take credit for those, too. Anyone remember the Al-Qaeda attack on Flight 253 back in December? As you can see, failed attacks provide massive amounts of media coverage and they imply future attacks. Terrorist groups like the TTP would not want to give that notoriety up unless it wasn’t theirs to claim.

Then, there is the man-hunt. What kind of terrorist that messes up waits two-and-half days to flee? He certainly must have realized that they were looking for him. ‘They’ being every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a badge in the United States hungry for a promotion, not to mention his Pakistani associates who probably wanted to catch up with him or his family after running away. What the hell was he doing? This utter lack of motivation to get up and run immediately suggests to me that he never felt threatened by US capture or retaliation from the TTP. What is even more incredible is that he didn’t bother throwing away his cell phone after leaving his Isuzu parked. Instead, he uses the phone. Now, it should be no a big secret to any self-respecting terrorist that the FBI can remotely turn on your phone and use its microphone as an eavesdropping device. So, why would he keep it unless he wanted to be followed? The only solution I can think of starts with ‘Is not’ and ends with ‘a real terrorist.’

Since his capture by the authorities, Shahzad has made a few choice contradictory statements. He initially claimed to be a lone wolf domestic terrorist. Later, changing his story to one about having had bomb training in Waziristan, Pakistan. Since Waziristan is essentially fertilizer bomb central, the fertilizer mix-up is even more telling. There is, however, evidence to suggest that Shahzad is a small cog in a much bigger Machiavellian wheel.

On 4th May at 17:34 in the evening, an affiliate of CBS ran an interesting story concerning Shahzad and his capture. Since then, it has been ‘edited’ and the original cannot be found anywhere. Thankfully, someone was smart enough to do a screen-cap before it vanished for good. The original article can be seen here. At 18:21 that same evening, the article was scrubbed and a new one put up. A choice paragraph was deleted and the headline changed–you can see the ‘fixed’ article here. You’ll notice that the headline has been changed to ‘Total Time of Investigation: 53 Hours, 20 Minutes’ and the following paragraph was removed: “In the end, it was secret Army intelligence planes that did him in. Armed with his cell phone number, they circled the skies over the New York area, intercepting a call to Emirates Airlines reservations, before scrambling to catch him at John F. Kennedy International Airport.” This of course is part of a veritable campaign of mass media bombardment and disinformation; blasting you with the ‘straight skinny’ of a case like this until you are damned sick of it and already know ‘the facts’ as presented to you and would rather watch a rabid buffalo give birth than read anything else about it.

This is the only mention of any sort of army involvement with Shahzad and his arrest and is in a grey area legally with Posse Comitatus. It is very possible that the planes used to track Shahzad down were RC-12s. These planes are commonly used in Afghanistan and are equipped with electronic sniffers that take in information, combing the ground for signals on certain frequencies. They are sensitive enough that they can even pick up wireless video game controllers. One Special Forces source is quoted as saying:

My conjecture at the moment is that immediately after this went down and they knew that he was on the loose, parts of the domestic counter-terrorism operations that they had set up during the Bush administration were reactivated…They’re compartmentalized. So they kicked into high gear and were supporting law enforcement. In some cases, law enforcement may not have even known that some of the signals intelligence was coming from covert military units.

This is after the F.B.I. lost track of Shahzad when he was heading towards the airport. It is unclear for how long the F.B.I. lost Shahzad, but this comes on the heels of an interesting statement made by U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder. “I was never in any fear that we were in danger of losing him.” This is a very brash statement to make considering the F.B.I. was trouncing around like a first grader at a Sunday school picnic. Or is it a subtle hint that he knew more about what was going on than the Feds themselves did?

This statement and the doctored news article raise some interesting questions: Are there Special Forces/groups operating on American soil? If there are, what sort of restrictions are they operating under? Was Shahzad aware that he was being tracked and didn’t care? If the planes were supposed to be secret, why were they mentioned in the first place? Who ordered the scrub of the CBS article and why did they do it? Is this not one more example of Posse Comitatus being stepped upon and violated? Who are the real terrorists here? Just who is running this three ring circus?

The can of worms has been opened, ladies and gentlemen, and the results may certainly be terrifying. The only question you have to ask yourself is how far you will go to get at the truth. The answers are out there for those who demand them and those with enough tenacity to reach them. As for me, I hope that I have made a grievous error, for the implications are otherwise not good for anyone.

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Where will Africa be in 2037?

okeyo — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 12:43:05 +0000

The World Cup is coming to Africa for the first time since its conception. It is coming to South Africa, and everyone on the continent has deemed it “our world cup”…”time for Africa to shine.” Well, for starters, let it be known that I am an avid football fan, and my favourite team is Manchester United.

Most of the guys I know laugh when I tell them I am a football fan, because at the back of their minds, they know that I am a woman and I know lots about fashion and shopping and nothing about the sport. But my love for the game is so because of the influence my dad had on me when I was little. We used to sit before those old Sanyo black and white television sets and watch Tottenham Hotspurs, but when David Beckham made his début for Man United in 1992, we were forced to shift alliances, and we have never been disappointed by the move.

I supported Italy in 1998, but this year, I am still confused and just the thought of all these teams being in the World Cup, and in Africa, I feel as though my choice has got to be worth the Golden Trophy! South Africa has spent 800 million pounds in preparations for the event, but most people around the world wonder whether the money would not have been better spent enhancing security in that country given RSA’s increased crime rate. But is it not the way of African culture to host a guest better than ourselves? That is the question that one of my friends asked me and I battled with the answer for more days than I care to mention. If it were a European country--or should I say a first world country--the question of expenditure would not be asked. Africa is still a third world continent faced with many issues, including natural calamities, low mortality rates and poverty. So, my question is--Where will Africa be in 2037?

If you have tuned to SuperSport, or any channel available on DSTV, chances are you will have seen the post World Cup commercial where this man shares his experience of the 2010 World Cup. It features the words “Africa in 2037″ at the bottom right. I have a huge problem with that commercial because it shows two things that an African Philosopher, John S. Mbiti, said about our continent. That is, we have a two dimensional sense of time, where we dwell more in the past than in the present or the future. He goes on to say that this is the reason why development and modernization in Africa is slow. Will Africa still have people living in semi-permanent housing and selling things all over the streets? And what is wrong with that you might ask? I say, everything!

To modernize, we must have the mentality to achieve the so desired state. Shall Africa have achieved the Millennium Development Goals or shall we still be asking for donations to feed the hungry in our own continent? Where will Africa be in 2037? What will African leaders have achieved? Will they have made their countries corruption-free or left legacies of poor leadership and plundered economies? Shall we still be asking for grants to set-up our governments, and will we still be losing children to curable diseases like Malaria and dysentery? How many will have been orphaned because of HIV/AIDS?

I am glad that legends like Steve Biko, Marcus Garvey, Nelson Mandela and Malcolm X identified the problem of African thinking. They sought to liberate the African mind first before seeking independence from white oppression, and yet, we still have not been completely liberated. If you have watched the commercial/advert of which I speak (not this one below), take a look at it again, and I am sure you will not only understand the implications of the words spoken by the actors but the background and images too.

This June, I will be supporting; Ivory Coast (because I am a liberated African and they have good players); Egypt--because they have proven worthy by winning the Africa Cup of Nations twice--and Italy, because…I still love the national team with or without Paulo Maldini. I, however, hope that Brazil will get to play against England (my team) so that my team may improve on their defence and tactics.

By 2037, Africa should have achieved its set-up goals and should have become more independent with no corruption. Only time will tell.

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By Candlelight in The Heart of Darkness

Alaa ElShawa — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 14:54:06 +0000

A silent moment speaks after the power prefers to leave us, alone, on a journey into the heart of darkness. A sigh would be our usual provision on these excursions, but today, we unwillingly decide to leave behind that sigh, only to unveil the secrets of darkness, which seemingly appear like a strange epidemic spreading around our bodies faced with no defence.

“Oh, Mum! Where are you? I can see nothing. Mum. I am afraid!” is my little brother’s horrified cry as our enemies announce the launch. Horror—horror—everywhere. I am secretly trying to seek security by feeling my way to mum’s serene touch. Mum successfully lights a mere candle. Helpless thoughts occupy my mind, mourning their birth in the middle of “this hell on earth.” How much good can one-living candle do on this seemingly endless course?

The journey begins. Mum eases the unbearable conditions with the making of mint tea. I really can’t figure out its magic. I offer up to Mum an enthusiastic hand, preparing cups, the cookies, if we have some, sugar and, most importantly, the lush fresh already-washed mint. Mum’s eyes express her gratitude in non-spoken words and a smiling look. “Tea is ready,” says she, strong enough to dissipate my silent childish fury. The smell of mint comforts our anger with other thoughts taking them to peaceful sleep as my Dad calls a family meeting, around the table, to drink mint tea.

How we, Gazans, spend our time in blackout.

Candle light in the core of this romantic scene is set to celebrate the fourth anniversary of our unbreakable ties. The meaning of family is here clearly embodied before my eyes. I am on this journey endowed with the indefensible gift of acute observation. The cosiness of darkness painted by a golden light from the still living candle. I, undoubtedly, can live in the pleasure and pain of these dark moments. My Dad adds some more bright colours with his words. And while recalling some attention-grabbing stories from the undead past, he takes us with him on a visit to our original Palestinian hometown, along a winding journey for which the ticket is the word.

My younger brother is all ears, but speaking with no tongue. Sometimes, words can disguise intense emotions more than they reveal them. This journey still—and we continue—the darkness getting brighter and brighter. No time restrictions imprison us here. Hours pass so smoothly that we have not noticed the moving leg of time. Our journey to the heart of darkness in progress, and our candle still breathing.

My Dad has stopped narrating stories now, giving Mum a chance to enjoy this tranquil darkness, listening to Oum-Kolthoum. We in turn, my brother and I, seek refuge in exploring the books of our small library. I, shamefully, must confess that I had not the stomach to leaf through these texts before. Reading pages from some books can be like eating cool ice cream in hot stifling weather. Relax, just enjoy.

The contract of friendship between the books in our library and I is executed and signed only by me. In the heart of darkness, my eyes have opened to the things I used to overlook. In this colourful darkness, I have figured out my potential for blindness during daylight hours. There, my secret out now: How I have learnt to enjoy The Blackouts, starting with mint tea, moving to the gathering of family, narrated stories from the past, and finally, resorting to our library—my new friend—a traveller!

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The Fall of Minister Pierre

A Kenya Inspired by Malcolm X

okeyo — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 10:02:53 +0000

I wake up every morning and the one thing that runs through my mind is what I am going to write next. Some call it an addiction and others simply think of me as mad, but when it comes to dreams, ambitions and passion, isn’t madness warranted? When I say madness in this case, I mean always thinking of something to the extent that you live, breathe, and dream of it all the time.

Malcolm X (born Malcolm Little; May 19, 1925 – February 21, 1965), also known as El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz (Arabic: الحاجّ مالك الشباز‎), was an African-American Muslim minister, public speaker, and human rights activist.

With my passion for writing comes two things: I collect pencils and notebooks. I take trips to town just to buy the new brand of Pelikan pencils and relish the moment, but no one shares my enthusiasm. My room mate calls me mad, my friends just insist that I am “special” but the way they say it does not sound special.

And people are different. I take my inspiration from Malcolm X, who said, “If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything.” I have critics who do whatever they can to try and prove two things; (i) that I am crazy and (ii) need to have a reasonable hobby. They sit down and talk behind my back and when I am not listening, but at times I look at them, and I see the person that I do not want to be. I don’t want to sit back and comment negatively about someone else’s life when I have my own to live, and it seems to me like most black people have done that all their lives.

I am Kenyan, and in saying this it does not mean that I despise my country; I rather want what is best for her. Kenyans sure do have the weirdest character when it comes to critiquing each other and even parliamentarians. There is a square just opposite the Kencom Bus Terminus, where people sit idly from 6am to 7pm and they discuss how awful their parliamentarians are. The leaders they have voted into power are selfish, stupid and corrupt; and how they wish they could be like America and practice democracy; how they wish they would be like China and be technological giants; how better off South Africa is for hosting the 2010 World Cup. This goes on for hours on end and these idlers go back home and sleep hungry. It is all talk, all wishes, but none of them work on it.

Kencom Bus Terminus (Nairobi) - Not what you expected?

It is true that getting a job in Kenya is stressful, and if you get lucky enough to earn at least $160 per month, life is better and a little more comfortable. But to say that Kenyans needs a Malcolm X to make them stop feeling inferior to other developed countries would be 100% true. However, not having had the honour of meeting the man--I am restricted to his sayings and life experiences only, which are well laid out in The Autobiography of Malcolm X as written by Alex Haley between 1964 and 1965.

The first time I picked up the book, I had a nostalgic feeling, because I do not like to read autobiographies--they always make me question what I am doing in my life and, at times, that freaks me out. But while reading Malcolm X’s autobiography plenty of emotions overcame me. At the end of it, I was left in awe at how strong a character he was and how hard it was for him to live through such trivial times when anyone and everyone wanted him dead. He constantly looked over his shoulder and when I read Alex Haley’s confession that Malcolm X always sat facing the door -- I was scared for the man.

Malcolm X lived for what he knew was right and fought for what to him was freedom -- and in this, he sought to empower the black people, to make them believe that they needed no one’s approval other than their own to make them feel special. I am constantly faced with this challenge each time I tune the television set to watch our Kenyan news. It is always filled with politicians making very “stupid” remarks and then refuting them at a press conference even though the media shows them a video of their previous comments. We can never be like anyone else. Rather, we can ensure we are better with every passing second, that we do humane deeds and care for each other. We can stop idling and rather go about working on how to improve our lives.

How can we modernize when we do not have that mentality? How do we expect to be punctual when we wear wrist watches but never look at them to see how many minutes we have left? Why do we pretend to be speaking with an accent that is not our own? Why is it that anyone with an American accent is considered superior to your brother/sister who speaks the same message? For how long are we going to want and wish we had something instead of working hard to achieve it? Talking does not help, words alone have not power, but there has to be some determination and strength behind them.

I am a writer. I collect pencils and notebooks, and I am proud of who I am. Give me one month and you shall be reading my published book, and seeing them on shelves everywhere you go, but what of you? That is what I keep telling my friends each time they ridicule me, and they laugh.

Malcolm X was right, “Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you’re a man, you take it.”

Kenyans must have the right mentality before reaching that state of being.

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This Small Thing Called Tribalism

hushcolor — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 18:06:22 +0000

There are many things I love about living in Kenya, but most of all I think I love the cultural diversity of its citizens. I stayed late at work yesterday, finishing up bits and pieces of what I had to present today in the office. Since it was getting late at night, I decided to walk across an open market so that I could get home in time.

As I did so, I was enticed into buying fried fish for supper from a lady who was sitting by the road side. I was so surprised when she spoke to me in my mother tongue. I use “mother tongue” to indicate the language of my ethnic group here. I don’t know if I seem to have my tribe inscribed on my forehead these days. I should hope not.

Kenya's violence is not just about ethnicity. Age and poverty are factors too.

I try as much as I can to conceal it. Not because I hate it. In fact, I am very proud of my tribal origins. But in this country, where ethnic clashes took away scores of lives during the last general election, I would rather be a just another countryman. I prefer to speak and communicate in Swahili, the national language, or English, rather than my mother tongue. I feel comfortable when people don’t suddenly judge me according to my ethnicity. However, it’s never that easy, especially in cases where I need to produce my identity card or quote my name--because from those alone, one can easily and accurately know my ethnic origin.

In the part of Nairobi where I live, ninety percent of the population come from one ethnic group--let’s call them Tribe2. I grew up in this part of Nairobi, went to school and played with children from Tribe2. I remember that in primary school, I was the only one from my tribe. I started at the lowest grade, and didn’t know too much of English or the national language, Swahili, by then. According to our Kenyan Education System at that time, children had to learn the national language as a subject in school since their parents would have raised them in their respective mother tongue. This same mother tongue that was also taught on the syllabus for pupils to learn how to read and write it.

Ironically, this was regardless of your ethnic group. Your ‘mother tongue’ was taught according to the region in which you went to school. As a result, I did not learn how to read or write in my mother tongue--the little I know was the much I was raised with before I went to school. I speak Tribe2’s language fluently, can read and write it as well. According to current Kenyan politics, my tribe and Tribe2 should not interact. All this stemming from ethnic based power struggles, and traditions through our parents, which dictate that we should never intermarry. However, our current generation is erasing this tradition, albeit with baby steps.

Yet this woman really amused me. She reminded me of my relatives upcountry, who speak in our mother tongue to each and everyone regardless of what ethnic group they may be from. I still wonder what she saw in me to make her come to the conclusion that we spoke the same language.

You see, Tribe2 are generally light-skinned while my tribe is usually a dark color, having emigrated from Sudan. If you have ever been to Sudan, you will know that these people are extremely dark-skinned.

I am never surprised when the matatu (mini-bus) conductor asks me for my bus fare in his native Tribe2’s language and confirms where I should alight in the same. It amuses me most of the times. They always think that since I am light-skinned, I must come from their tribe. But I just wish as a country, we would embrace each other, regardless of our ethnic composition.

I speak of only two tribes here, but there are roughly forty tribes in Kenya. I wish Swahili was our mother tongue. It makes no sense to me which tribe is superior. For while the world battles with wars and racism, Africa battles with tribalism. It seems so juvenile sometimes.

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On Black History Month

okeyo — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 12:40:39 +0000

I have been responding to the name Dora for as long as I have lived. That is my name. In Greek it means “gift of God.” My mom says that she named me after a legend, Isadora Duncan, a famous and gifted dancer who brought into conception the art of ballet dancing. Based on legal papers, I am a citizen of Kenya–which happens to be a country in the continent called Africa. But at times, I prefer to say that I am just a human being.

I have never known many people, but the ones I have met have influenced my life in ways that could make me either loathe or proud to be a human being. And I have also come to know with age that there are different classes, all attributed to skin color; white, yellow, black and red. The reds are very few since they have been almost extinct for a while now–the ones that exist in some parts of Canada have inter-married. What of me? I recall asking our maid once, while watching a famous soap opera back in the days called The Rich Also Cry and she said of them, “They are white.”

“Then what am I?” I asked.
“You are black and certainly not one of them.”
“But don’t we all speak?”
“Yes, but you are not one of them, and can never be.”
“Then why was I named after one of them?”

I am still waiting for an answer to this question. It is a matter that I have constantly battled with but never getting an answer. All my life I have been told I am black and made to feel two things: white is superior and black is inferior. I will never be like them, yet the basis of my education, religion, culture, socialization, dressing, entertainment and health is all white! So is this to say that I am a white person trapped in a black person’s body, or just that I am human? I prefer the latter.

But it hurts to know that it is a fellow black who puts us down, who says that I am no good, that we are no good. Is that what being black is all about? Inferiority? It is true that over the centuries black people have been associated with the inhuman act of slavery; whipping, hanging, cursing, torture and in being the despised, but we have focused too much on the pain that all these acts perpetrated upon us have caused us that we have failed to look at how far we have come. Our character is strong to have persevered through all this. What are our strengths? What do we then have that any human being would give to have? Our skin, it is beautiful, the first drum beat, herbal medicine, culture and customs that have stood the test of time, nature, unfathomable beauty and hope, we have hope…something that any human being needs at all times to achieve his/her dreams. The strength to have endured the worst acts against humanity crowned by pride is what black is: victorious not victim.

In Africa, we have poor roads, low mortality rates, insufficient funds, corrupt leaders, poverty, civil wars, witchcraft and the list is endless. We seem to be forever at the mercy of donor aid, but we still hold a grudge against those who colonized us. This pulls us back. Black people should stop being victims of colonization; it has been over sixty years since we were colonized and approximately forty five more since we gained independence…what have we done with this new found “freedom?”

Have we not used it to destroy Africa instead of build it? Whilst February is Black History Month in Kenya, it would be wise to focus on what black should be because times have changed and the society in which we live has become complex. Africa has westernized and right now the world has become what most people call a “global village” through globalization. Africans have taken a lot of time in playing the victims of colonization and as a result have failed in numerous accounts to develop economically, socially and technologically.

The one thing that should change is our mentality. We should stop saying we are inferior and rather work hard towards being superior. Black to me is the epitome of beauty. It is bold, beautiful, talented and fabulous. I am black, my skin color reflects it, but so does my pride. I choose to live for a better today and tomorrow, where children do not sleep in the streets, where they play till dusk and go home to the loving arms of caring parents, for a corruption-free nation, for the documentation of my culture and customs that out of it may spring knowledge for the future, that is what I live for. My question to you is this: Are you courageous enough to believe in it and more?

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Crisis for Kenyan Dairy Farmers as Famine Loom

hushcolor — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 15:21:40 +0000

In the country where I live, we have a passion for nation building. We struggle as a people to contribute to our nation as much as we possibly can, but sometimes, it all seems to go to waste. If you sit long enough with me, you will understand exactly what I am saying. I live in the capital city of Nairobi in Kenya, but I was born in the western region.

Just recently, I went on field work–funded by the organization where I work–on a project that encourages farmers who are frustrated by the ever falling prices of tea and coffee in the international market, to turn their hands to dairy farming for increased income. We encouraged the farmers to rear dairy animals, including dairy goats besides cattle, since milk prices had increased over the years thanks to a resurgent dairy sector. That was last year between July to September 2009.

Kenya’s food stocks will run out in April 2010, resulting in increased inter-ethnic conflict over land and water and more people going hungry, warns the Kenya Food Security in a recent study blaming poor rainfall, high food prices, and environmental degradation for this new crisis.

We travelled to the rural areas talking to the farmers on a one-to-one basis, encouraging them to increase the number of dairy animals as a way to raise more income. Having satisfactorily done this, we went back to Nairobi (the capital city) with the data we had collected for analysis. We would get all manner of positive feedback from the farmers in calls and letters. To say the truth, we felt like we had accomplished a major feat. We knew we had impacted positively on one or two lives.

However, in January 2010, I was sitting at home watching the prime-time news and what I saw shocked the living hell out of me. Apparently, there was a milk glut in the country. This coming after pastures improved sparked by the heavy rains we had experienced across the country.

But this was not my cause for alarm. What terrified me was the fact that thousands upon thousands of litres of fresh milk were, and is still, going to waste after farmers were barred from delivering the commodity to the government factories. It is now emerging that some of these factories cannot handle this large amount of milk production. In fact, some factories have even been closed in certain parts of the country. Every day there is an excess of about 130,000 litres of good fresh milk pouring down the drains. These same farmers we had encouraged to produce more milk are asking us why the government cannot contain and make use of this milk. Why after all the sweat they had put in to get more income from milk production, they are now being turned away?

Freak floods along the coast and in north eastern and eastern regions of Kenya have brought with them mudslides while severe droughts ravage other parts of the country, potentially affecting some 750,000 people and contributing to increased incidence of disease among humans and animals, according to both government and humanitarian agencies.

Let me digress a moment, and take you on a walk to the northern part of Kenya, about 380km north-east of Nairobi is a region better known as the forgotten part of our country. This area has experienced failed rains and, as a consequence, drought. This is where pastoralists keep livestock in large numbers, toiling in the scorching sun all day to get their animals to pasture. This part of Kenya suffers from food insecurity, characterized by poor infrastructure, inadequate healthcare, and a harsh climate.

Towards the end of 2009, however, there came the sudden arrival of rain after a long period of drought. This prompted floods and affected the livestock amounting to a large number of deaths. The trouble with this North eastern part of Kenya is that it has a very poor drainage system, the terrain is flat and therefore water is in abundance–it just stagnates.

So, ironically, in parts of Kenya there is a surplus of food that is going to waste, while in Northern Kenya there is a an impending famine waiting to happen. My worry is for the pastoralists, as well as the farmers who have done their part, and both need reciprocal action from the government. While we wait for the snail-pace of government to deal with this crisis, my organization is striving to enable farmers to set up new chilling plants all over Kenya.

I am but a citizen who wouldn’t know or have much to bring to the table except the little knowledge I have to share. But it is with great passion that I still commit to the betterment of our great nation. For you in your country, an inspired gift from UNICEF can save an African child. But for me, it’s much harder to do that here. Give inspirationally.

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Living on The Frontline

Paul Boakye — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 14:03:20 +0000

Pops always liked to remember the old time sayings from home. And when he dropped them on these British-born youngsters, they always had to wonder. When he explained to them, they would get it. But he’s stopped all that now.

“When I say things to them, they look at me as if I’m stupid–old fashion. They don’t know it’s not everybody fashion fit. The fashion may be in, but if it don’t fit me–I not getting into it. It’s not the clothes you wear or how you look. It’s what’s in you that makes you that special outstanding individual. Most people think because you can dress … it’s not the clothes … that’s only a picture postcard. That don’t mean you have to look dirty or appear anyway below the standard.

You know, just to go down the road there, you dressing up like mutton-favour-lamb. Who you impressing? I’m clean – that’s all I know. I see some of these young girls round here sometimes, unnecessarily dressed. You see them going round The Frontline here dressed to kill like billboard advertising sign. I see girls pushing prams with baby and dress up in a six-inch mini skirt. See them bend over two seconds – whoops! I mean, man, if a woman have to go on like that for a man to notice her, it’s not right.

You don’t have to show your body where only your lover alone should see it. Just to gain popularity or for people to like you. It’s not everybody can dress-up like Beyoncé on TV selling records by the bucket-load. Some of these young girls you see round here now suffering from massive insecurities. They encourage rape; see if you don’t see what I mean. You not going to leave your house door open for thief to break into? You gonna make it easier for thief to get into your house by leaving your front door open? No! I tell you; the little I see of Carnival each year is the highlights on the telly. I never been there. I started twice and just something changed. I see some of these young girls from round here going up there–oh my, huh-huh! It’s just not on! That’s right down slackness. So what style or fashion can that be?

I’ve got two girls, and thank God, I can lift my hand and knock wood–hope it’s not too late. But I’m glad for the way they’ve turned out. They both work. It’s not like you see in the news these days where they saying half of those round here have no gainful employment. But I told my girls, ‘I wouldn’t mind if you don’t pick a man from round in this area.’ And they listen to me. The younger one living up in Nottingham. She has her little fellow over there. The one living with me, she’s now at work. Her man is from Hackney. And he’s not a Jamaican. He’s from … not Ghana … I forget which one … anyway … Gambia? … No … But he’s just like us. He behaves just like us. And he’s not an idler. He’s always working. I don’t mean as if to say that West Indians don’t like to work, that’s just what some people like to think, but it’s not true. It’s all about the company you keep. As I say, fashion suit some, but it don’t always suit others.

You see some of these boys on The Frontline here selling? One down there, they call him ‘Gary Glitter’. Oh my, every girl come — it’s Gary. I think he must have about a hundred kids, each one more worse off than the last. So, so, so stupid. Just that ‘Flash Harry’ way and having money counting-counting all the time. And the women, they just give their bodies. “Here, come! See it here. Tek it.” And it’s not theirs to give. They come off worse. And a man that would help them for their future, they don’t want to know him. For if you’re not flashing, they don’t want you.

So you can see, it’s love for convenience. It’s not way down love. Theirs is the love that comes and goes. But a love that grows like a beautiful flower, it needs the necessary moisture, warmth and air. Every time you see somebody you love, it seems deeper. You don’t love them for what they have. If they don’t have money today, or don’t have a flash car, fuck them off–leave them! No! Thick or thin, you two together, that’s what love is. People now a days don’t know nothing ’bout love any more, anyhow, and every minute they want to get married. Like that bloody big-breasted Jordan woman. What’s she calling herself these days again, Katie Price? Some even before the reception finish, they quarrel. You know?

I could write a whole book about all the things I’ve seen in my sixty-five years, but I don’t know the first damn thing there is to know about book writing. How to get it all in perspective, if you know what I mean? I could sit here, though, the whole day through and talk to you all night long about the carrying-on of people. And I learn from them, you know. I do. I learn from them. I try not to take it all too personally. But it hurt me.”

For Leon Alexander (aka Pops). Rest in peace.

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