Sitting still in the stark of the night, counting the shimmering stars, listening to the whispers of the northern winds is a concrete wall 5 foot high. Over the days it had weathered with the ground on which it stood on, giving away to the harsh weather and dying from how poorly it was created.
The owner of the house, boss as the workers called him had built his house in haste and no plan, he just needed a roof over his head. The idea of building a wall round his house hit him the day his neighbor got robbed. A wall became a necessity he could not live without and after a month of ‘serious’ saving there was a frail, 5-foot, stone round his house.
Over time the wall had lost it’s agility to the ever falling rain, the ballast holding the stones together had started to blown off by the slightest of breeze, the steel gate hinges had rusted so much that whenever the gate was opened it made such a noise the the wall had to slap it to silence.
Walls may have ears but the best part is that they can’t talk, if they did this wall would have informed boss of the numerous times that the gardener relieved himself on it. It would have told the bosses wife how the boss had pinned the house help on it as he rammed her from the behind. If wall ever talked it would have spilled secrets potent enough to destroy the home that it was created to secure.
There are times that the wall wished it had guts to walk away from its rooted position but it needed legs first. This was the most imaginative it could be, having legs and touring other places away from this gray homestead. It wished it was created around a house in the country where the air was supposedly fresh and the weather mild not here in the struggling city, the blarring honks of the overly pimped buses.
“If you can think it it is possible,” the boss had said in one of his numerous phone calls, it chuckled as it now saw the absurdity of the statement. “Wasn’t boss just trying to give hope? Where is boss anyways?” The wall had learnt to live with solitude referring to itself as an extrovert who can’t talk to others and finds consolation only when talking to itself.
The wall stood silent in the night contemplating its importance, was it created to keep away animals or other humans. Eyes still glued to the sky it couldn’t remember the last star it had counted “I have to start all over!…1, 2, 3, 4…” there goes the rusty gate hinges “boss and his wife are here, why count the stars while I can listen to their unending quarrels?”
Ever been in a situation where you just had to stand by as unfortunate things befell someone, not that you couldn’t do anything but you had no reason to help after all there were other people standing by and none of them was helping. That’s an ‘inoccent bystander’s’ moment.
Then there is the other time you passed by another person in dire need of your help but you just passed by as there were other people who could help. That’s a ‘passersby moment.’
In a society where everyone is loosing the sense of community these two moments/situations are unavoidable to most people. The sense of belonging to a larger whole has been forgotten, simply put ‘if it doesn’t affect me why should I help fix it?’ This mentality has mushroomed from ‘mob psychology’ where people think they are acting on their own violation whilst they are acting as a part of collective.
Point and case; a wave of daylight muggings hit Nairobi a few weeks back, everyone one was up in arms blaming the police for sleeping on their job. The shocking thing is that on each of these instances there were enough people around who could have helped stop the muggings but none did.
Some of the reasons they gave for not helping were: I was once in such a situation and no one helped me, these things happen all the time, and the most popular, It does not concern me. These are just some of the reasons most of us would have given not acknowledging that humans are pack animals more than they are lone wolves. Being pack animals we individually behave the same way as the pack. It is on the cogs of the mob psychology that the ‘passing bystander’ moment operate, ‘if no one is helping why should I help?’
If you ever find yourself in such a moment as a victim don’t just shout to the people around for help, direct your attention to one specific person and ask for their individual help. Doing this guarantees that other people will take action to help you thus it is most effecting cry for help when in public places.
The first date I ever went to got me thinking about things that i was not supposed to be thinking about. I had been ‘vibing’ this chic for a while and my relentless pestering had finally paid out when she agreed to go out with me. I spent hours on end trying to ‘create’ a perfect me that she would like and love, thinking and strategising how I would describe me. Sincerely speaking I am a pretty mediocre guy, average man with an average life in an average world doing average things to impress my average friends. Tweaking me was the way to go, adding a pinch of salt to spike my average life. *cutting the story short* I lied most of the time, I knew the wrong I had done by this and felt guilty. Every time a lie escaped my mouth and hit her perfect ears I gained more courage to lie again and again.
Very deep down in my heart I consoled myself that each and every man has been forced to lie or has lied intentionally with the most innocent motive. Picture this, its your first date and she looks super beautiful but the first thing you notice before sitting at your table is that she has a ‘sukuma wiki’ stuck between her perfectly arranged snow white teeth, for an average man the way forward is you compliment her about how beautiful she looks but you intentionally forget to mention the ‘sukuma wiki’ for you know that it may ruin your first date.
1. To give false information intentionally.
2. To convey a false image or impression
Out of 7+ billion people 100% have lied either for good or bad, for their sake or the sake of others. Lies are the threads used by humans to mend broken patches of reality where facts and truth have torn things apart, they are the little demons that help us face life when reality is harsh and no hope is dawning on us. And what is hope but just the lies we tell ourselves when the going gets tough and we can’t ‘man up’ to accept this, we want to assure ourselves that all is going to be alright even when we know that this is false and when all becomes right we feel good that we lied to ourselves, hoped.
Imagine how life would be if all we told was the truth and nothing but the truth: no stories to tell, we would have no beliefs, no friends etc.
It is a fact that most people who are said to be rude are the people who mostly speak the truth and their minds. We all yern to be lied to from time to time, it helps us move against the harshness of life, we all lie from time to time or always.
Whereas the truth is realative of the individual, society and context/setting lies are not. If you lie you lie and if you tell half a truth you lie.
Of all the ‘infections’ of the brain we humans are most affected by brain drain and brain wash. Brain drain is the departure of educated/professional people from one country, economic sector or field for another, usually for better paying or living conditions while brain wash is the process of making one adopt radically different beliefs by using systematic and often forcible pressure. On the basis that ‘sight is the first step to assessment and judgement’ one is propositioned to tell which is the lesser evil of the two but it is automatically bias to do so without properly examining the two.
Brain drain/ human capital flight
Human capital flight is mostly seen for the bad name it has (brain drain) most Africans assume that it the reason behind the lagging development of the continent, ‘because the whites took all of our good brains’. This is not true to a bit as human capital flight has been there since time immemorial, look at it as an exchange forum of professionals, as Africans are going to work overseas foreigners are coming to work in the continent. It contributes to greater education and innovation in the developing world whence ideas are exchanged and worked on. Social environment is considered the key reason for human capital flight also individual motives play a role. A good example for human capital flight is Albert Einstein, a German scientist who relocated to America due to political instability in Germany.
According to Michael Clemens, an economic researcher, “permitting people to move from low-productivity places to high-productivity places appears to be by far the most efficient generalized policy tool, at the margin for poverty reduction.”
Indoctrination that forces a society to favour someone’s set of beleifs has mostly affected Africa. Its has led to the introduction of new thoughts that has ‘proved’ that we are an inferior people whose culture has been called naïve and backwards. We say of how strong minded we are whilst missionaries managed to convert ancestors into demons and ghosts.
“We went to their church. Mubia, in white robes opened the bible. He said: let us kneel down to play. We knelt down. Mubia said: let us shut our eyes. We did. You know that his remained open so that he could read the word. When we opened our eyes our land was gone and the sword of flames stood on guard.” A Grain of Wheat, Ngugi wa Thiong’o.
I rest my case. Get rid of the devil that has cursed you.
War is greatly founded neither on assault nor defense but rather on the art of taking hits. Good commanders are the ones who know how to react in context to the hit taken, not to defend blindly or attack blindly. They just don’t give any command but take time to think about the impacts of their actions both to themselves and their compatriots. (Have in mind this is not a manual on how to be a ‘soldier’ but the description of a soldier)
It is on the basis of war that it is said, give unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, but who decides what belongs to Caesar? Caesar. Then everything would be his. We all are ‘Caesar’ on our own accord. We fight for our beliefs and from time to time we force them on other people, either knowingly or unknowingly. We expect to be appreciated for giving people new perspectives of life, but what happens when our perspective is not accepted by the majority? The expected reactions are fight, flight OR reexamine what you believe. Most of us seem never to focus on the last option either because of their ego or the pressure exerted on them by the majority. We want to defend how right we are, attack how wrong other are without even rethinking our beliefs.
Logic, the bigger our egos get the more we collide and the more we become numb to reality and to those around us, we start believing that because we are sharks in the small pond we can dictate how planktons live. We tend to forget that even though sharks are at the top of the food chain it is the plankton, at the bottom of the chain, which support the whole chain. We want the water to flow upstream for we want to swim upstream and want no obstacles. Any obstacle is met with divine hostility and fierceness and if the water does not agree to flow upstream we want to empty the river, impossible.
Embedded with this philosophy is my belief that good resilient commanders are the one who examine the hits they take and react accordingly not the ones who are quick to brandish their armory in the faces of their ‘enemies’. Also, the sharks may make lesser fish fear but they will never force their beliefs on them, even though they may cause disturbance in the water but they will NEVER dictate the direction in which it will flow. Just because you are a shark in your small pond don’t expect to be ‘worshiped’.
She was pretty – very pretty – but so were loads of other girls. This had something extra. How could a single person fulfill all the mannerisms, distill that vital blend of insecurity and insouciance and exude pheromones that so clearly begged ‘cut me, lay me out cold and have your way with me.’ Crafty, artsy hands moving with dexterity, fingers symphonized and composed to create waves and tides of pleasure. She was Mona Lisa come to life with the attitude of a twenty first century with a commanding voice of a Roman centurion. She was no angel, she was the mother spirit sister to Mother Nature.
Kinky hair that so begged to be caressed and pulled when necessary. Plump cheeks, ripples across her face when she smiled.
She was adorable, she was the girl with a sprinkler in my wet dreams dreams. …She was adorable, she was the girl the girl in my head. A stature of perfection, a creation of my mind. Created to compensate for the numerous times I got snubbed by the ‘Instagram’ ladies who said I had no class at all. Created to make me forget all the time I had no guts to speak to any chic with for the fear of the legendary tongue click.
I thought of her according to my will and want, luscious hips rolling with her movement. She had one of those tiny waist, big behind, a body shaping of a soda bottle (clichê, I know). Tandem lips giving perfect orations obscuring her long tongue. A big chest to match her chest.
They say that even fantasies have their work to do, and she fulfilled my untamed desires. She was the clutch to my libido and the reason why I never got a real girlfriend, one that everyone would see, for what is the use of a lover if you can never think about them….