Category: Culture

Arsenal, Culture, Life, The Teenage Years

JOGA BONITO: MORE THAN A GAME

The Divine Bandit

I was meant to write this post on that Tuesday, May 19th 2026. Even with a little bit of delay for the celebrations, I could have at least done it by Sunday May 24th 2026 when the actual Premier League season ended. With the most gentle of nudges I could have managed to do it by end of May, end of June, end of July but well…what defines procrastination best than rushing to complete that same task a few hours to the commencement of the new season on 21st August 2026?

Now that we are through with that boring introduction, let’s step into the first and main inspiration behind dribbling down this memory lane: ARSENAL ARE THE REIGNING PREMIER LEAGUE CHAMPIONS! Now, I know that statement alone probably led to half my readers pausing or closing their reading tab instantly. However, for those who have remained, I promise you that you are in for more than stories about the red and white gunners.

I was discussing football with a friend’s dad a few months back and I was surprised to learn that he had never played football growing up and could not even accurately aim to kick the ball presently. To me and probably most African kids from my generation, this was truly shocking because to us anything that was on the ground could be converted for footballing purposes. What I mean is, whether walking home from school, working around the household; our generation dribbled rocks, fruits, plant seeds, cans, bottles…the list is endless. When we got really serious for a match, using left over rags, string or sisal and a paperbag cover would produce the original jabulani which had a maximum speed of 20 KPH, a spin rate of 1 RPM and zero chances at curving past another player or the goal post. Once in a while though, someone at school would procure a new/new-ish paperbag, perfect stuffing materials like light old seat sponges, left over tailoring materials and most important of all, a long enough woven nylon string. They would create the best version of a handmade football that was possible then. Done properly, this ball could even bounce and change direction in the air (just like the World Cup 2010 Jabulani) until it got rained on or fell in a ditch for then it would become a weapon of facial distortion if it hit you. All the weight of soaked up water, the braided nylon strings and a bare footed super kick could leave you with the nylon boxed design perfectly imprinted on your face for days.

You now fully understand the kind of environment we grew up in as far as football was concerned. Yet, thinking back, there was no particularly special reason to be that obsessed with the sport. First, club football was not available to be watched live on the few TVs that existed in the villages in Kenya. This would leave sports news highlights, Gillette World Sports Special programme and live matches during the World Cup and AFCON as the only time one was around continuous live football broadcasting which would mostly be on radio. In addition, these happened/happen every 4 years, it was again not enough reason to become so attracted and fall in love with the beautiful game. Therefore, as I tried to find a strong reason for this level of basal affection for a sport that most kids wouldn’t have managed to watch much before playing it, I came across the idea of family and community. I played football because my elder siblings did, I played it because my cousins, my school friends and even my village mates played it. They played it because someone else they knew played the game too. In essence, most people seem to have been around football because they found a place to belong, a cheap activity to share with friend during daily school breaks or even on holidays. Some young fans were a tad more exposed on the basis of having some regional clubs that played in lower leagues entertain us on local half grass, half murram pitches during game weekends. At one point after high school, my eldest brother played for one of these clubs and not only would I get to attend the matches but also follow him to week day practice sessions, but then he was swiftly whisked off to college. That same brother who would end up being the reason I had to suffer the misery of 22 years without a premier league trophy. I will tell you how…

The year is 1994, the world cup is going on in the USA and Jojo Sweets or whatever the full name was had just discovered the perfect marketing gimmick; wrapping the gum inside with stickers of footballers at the world cup in their national kits including their name and kit number. My middle brother and I started a hobby of collecting the said stickers with the hopes of creating every single team’s first 11. This meant going as far as trading the stickers in school just to get the missing pieces. In the end, we couldn’t manage to get all full teams except one, the Brazil team led by Dunga as captain while Romario and Bebeto led the line. Now as young as we were, we already had our favourite teams and by then Brazil led in that list amongst family and friends. The final arrives, goes to penalties and Roberto Baggio misses the famous spot kick for Italy. Brazil are champions!! We make sure everyone knows we supported Brazil, we make fun of those who supported Italy at the final. We talk like fans who plan to never move their support for a national teams’ competition. It was the only thing we knew by then, not even a peep about club football, at least not much about the premier league.

The next 4 years before the 1998 World Cup were spent slowly getting used to club football news. I could recognize more names because of the just concluded world cup, I could tell the difference between the different leagues and was slowly getting used to the idea of “selling” and “buying” players. I was also slowly getting used to the names of clubs that the then stars played for when there was no world cup. However, I was still too young and deep in the 8 before 4-4 to care that much, to actually have my emotions affected by whatever happens on a football pitch. Little did I know what was awaiting me. When the 1998 World Cup comes around, it finds me grown enough, but not as grown as my eldest brother who’s in form 3 by then. He insists he has shifted teams and now supports France, I am flabbergasted by the betrayal and trying to understand. Why would you leave our team for another? No loyalty for Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu? I couldn’t understand it when the tournament started but it sank like a hot knife during the final. I watched Zidane dismantle Brazil as France won 3 nil while my brother taunted me about my life choices. I cried. I was slowly realizing he had information I was not paying attention to. He knew players from watching club football in high school, he knew about game day line ups not just overall squads and he had used that information to choose France as possible eventual winner. This is while I was still riding the high from 1994 and believing it enough to win as long as Brazil got to the finals. In later years we would find out Ronaldo was unwell for the final but in that moment then, it just made my brother look like a genius. This is why when I asked which club he supports and he said Arsenal, there was no talkback or arguments. Arsenal had won the World Cup. This would be further cemented by 1999 when the young exciting forward we had seen torture teams at the WC was signed to Arsenal; the one who would soon become The King, Thierry Henry. Everything was falling into place.

In 5 years, the French contingent of manager and players, plus others of course, would deliver doubles and win the league undefeated, a feat unmatched to date. But then, as loud and quick as the success had been, it suddenly all went quiet. Belief propelled the fans and players forward, to a Champions League final when I was in college in 2006. However even that belief would start cracking as the all trophy drought from 2005 hit year 5 and then seemed headed for 10. That is until that carpet football group that had Ozil, Santi Cazorla, Rambo won that FA cup against Hull City in 2014. Then they added Alexis Sanchez and won 2 more FA Cups in quick succession. We started believing, we became the Next Season fans every time the current season did not materialize into a higher trophy than the FA Cup. With that group of players, we would end up losing it to Leicester in 2016, Wenger had to go! The professor, the one who’d won the league undefeated and multiple doubles had fallen off in tactics and there was no light at the end of the Emirates tunnel. The fans revolted, they even hired a plane to fly a Wenger Out banner during a game. It was one of the lowest moments for most Arsenal fans.

Wenger is finally out! Bora Unai! After 22 years (ironically), Arsene Wenger would leave the club that almost shared his name. Those who wanted him out (most fans) thought they were finally free of the shackles of football past its time. We would buy differently, we would play differently, we would definitely win and make a difference. Fast forward that faith to that night in Baku 2019 which would end up serving to us a not so Good Ebenin. Sure, the trophy was 2nd tier but it was highly anticipated by the fans so they could build belief in their new manager and the team set up. After a season and a half, Unai is shown the door and a novice manager, a former Arsenal player, Mikel Arteta is given the reins. Some fans rejoice, some give up immediately, most have learned to be patient and just wait.

1 win in 10 games! Arteta’s team wins only one game in a 2 month period at the height of Covid-19. Fans are confused and are arguing amongst each other online and in Whatsapp groups. Some point to the recent FA cup success with Arteta while others point at his short CV and the continued losses. We finish 8th for the 2nd time under Arteta’s management.

While all this is going on, time and life edge forward for both fans, players and staff. This is the reason I said this post may be Arsenal inspired but is not about Arsenal alone. It is about the community that this game creates and the relationships it has fostered over the years. In January 2019, I would find myself in the 14 Riverside compound as the terrorist attack happened. The next day as I tried to get my phone to start working due to hundreds of calls and messages that had come through as we hid during the event, I would find that football fans of all clubs, rivals we had argued with in Whatsapp groups for years had been looking for me. They texted and called including offering avenues for PTSD counselling and therapy. I was getting to know doctors, psychiatrists and even those in the armed forces as they reached out to offer a helping hand. Football had been shelved, rivarlies broken, it was time for a community health check. And we needed it, because a few hours later, messages of Odu Cobra’s passing while he saved lives would reach the football groups and a communal heartbreak would envelope all of us. Most of us who had not met him knew him as a Man United fan, vocal, knowledgeable and most importantly kind in his words and presentation. The groups would contribute for his funeral, attend events to honour him and would keep his name alive through stories and memories.

Do you know someone who likes a certain player for no reason? And acts like that player is related to them including being overly concerned with their success? That was how my friend Steve Ashers was when it came to Matteo Guendouzi. Even after years of Next Season F.C., he still held the belief that the team that would have Matteo as a mainstay midfielder would lead us to success. My friend would leave this plane in August 2019 while Matteo would head out on loans and then leave Arsenal some time after. To date I still find myself looking up MG as he was affectionately known amongst his fans just to keep an eye on his career because my friend didn’t get his wish. That’s why when we finally did it, without Guendouzi, without Auba and most of the players my friend left at Arsenal, I pointed to the heavens, to him and since that world cup final in 1998, I found myself shedding tears. We had done it for those who had left us and as I would soon find out, for those who would leave us soon after like one Dr Magubo did a few days after we won the title and missed out on the Champions League trophy. His last message on the group on June 1st 2026 – Nxt season tunabeba champe!

So as Arsenal kicks off the 2026/27 Premier League season in less than 30 minutes, as they defend what took 22 years to achieve, I’m reminded to share about this community that will be at each other’s throats for the next few months. That we may bring the fight but we really just came to play, we may shout spiteful chants but it’s all love, some scenes on the pitch may get ugly but this game will remain beautiful.

Culture, death, Deep and overstood, Life, Love, Politricks, War

WHEN MISSILES FLY

The Divine Bandit

Genetics…
Genesis…


Go ye past the borders and divide

I annoint you in holy fuel

Flies gather on either side

Sipping the unholy duel



Are these the end times?

Prophecies and man’s plan

Abstain from files

Dear …stan 



Position a missionary

Intentional combat

Assassinate a revolutionary 

Deliberating cobalt



iSuck…
Isaac…
Ishmael…
iSmile…

#IAmKenyan, Culture, Dad, death, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks, War

SWEPT UNDER THE FLAG 🇰🇪

The Divine Bandit

“They buried the bodies.
Then waved the flag.
But the soil remembers.”

REX:

Albert, it feels weird waking up and opening my eyes not to screams or smoke, but to songs.
Melodies that arrive through justice not tear gas scented winds.
Without a need to run, I was lazily strolling this morning, digging my toes into the wet grass.
Here, where no toy soldier lurks ready to make the air sting with sound.
Calm, my heart no longer beating as a countdown to the next stray bullet.
And just as I started feeling homesick, there you were, smiling like the Kenyan sun we used to bask in.

ALBERT:

Behind you bright-eyed and full of life, came all the ancestors.
Wangarĩ stood like a mountain, arms open and ready to embrace the giant you are.
JM proudly patted your back as Mboya’s voice boomed out warm praises like a firelight.
Ouko laughed and whispered to me, “You came too soon, but you came right.”
Father Kaiser holding my face, hands heavy with unspoken truths.
Matiba and Were chose not to speak at first.
You could tell that they had been waiting.
Waiting to see more names carved as a national sacrifice.

ALL:

We ended up breaking bread on the tables forged from blood and broken dreams.
We listened and drank heavily from stories aged in prisons and protest.
For the first time in a long time, we felt honoured not hunted.
Dining away from the prowl of death squads and tribal division.
We not only witnessed but understood the legacy that should bind.
We knew what it meant to become part of the sky, not just lost in it.
For a brief magical moment, heaven tasted like our vision of home.

ALBERT:

That sweet moment barely lasted, our joy curdled when we hazarded a glimpse down.
Piercing cries going past the ear to sear the brain and not from memory.
Visible fresh cuts and bodies still getting dressed in flags.
I saw parents still asking for their sons back.
The bodies of their daughters picking up the political slack.
I saw tribal gods rising from new and old graves we helped bury.
Worshipped by those who profit from our collective pain and misery.

REX:

With 6 foot chains, long enough to link our souls to the soil.
I saw the puppeteers in new tailored suits but same old threads.
Countering suits and whispering poison into hungry ears.
I saw them still peddling salvation by tribe, but ignorant to the signs.
Only familiar with airlines, their 5 year tickets forgotten at the front lines.
I witnessed poverty still being planted then fertilized like a seed for loyalty.
Where there was no prison for the mind, I saw entire counties turned into cages.

ALL:

Are we just dead heroes, martyrs or the silent messengers?
Meant to dismantle their play at the tribal theatres?
Should they still die for men that won’t bury them?
Leave through a nightmare disguised as a dream?
Can freedom be found on flags raised by liars?
Or does it germinate in clarity of resistance, their refusal to forget?
We are their past, presently, their future is still dying.

8th July 2025

#IAmKenyan, Culture, death, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks, War

NOT LIKE US – SNAKES

The Divine Bandit

Intro: 2024

Sssss, I saw dead people.
(Massacred the streets, no?)

Verse 1: 2024

Aye, massacred the streets, so
No real leaders around, just a pony show.
State clowns, punch their timestamps, tell ’em “Leave bro.”
Raise a finger then a coin toss, then walk around like they know.
What’s up with these slave masters trying to get their laugh on?
The government can hate me, dust ’em off and they drama.
How many cops you really got? I mean, it’s staged corruption.
Ain’t gonna pass another body, seen enough stacked on.
Hit a pass and find the tribal it’s earth scorchin’.
Such times you run out to slow the triggers.
Satisfied journeyman, mileage about to outscore him.
Get him down, up on a pedestal and he still missing the rim.
Souls on him, export hits, jury, dethrone him.
Say, snakes, my Apple costs a lung.
I’ll soon barter or sell my blocked one.
I pray you snitch and lose everything you have.
Just to make sure the king has nothing on him.
They tell me for once you shall work just to pull this down.
All party to the nasty, you playin’ with us now.
It used to be our X space, why are you around?
Certified Lawmakers? Certified copycats!
Grab, grab, grab, grab, grab, we lock em’ up.
Grab, grab, grab, grab, grab, they steal your stuff.
Why you coding like a switch? Ain’t you fired?
Trynna strike accord but you’re usually A-Liaaaaaar!

They not like us, they not like us, they not like us.
They don’ like us, they don’ like us, they don’ like us.

Verse 2: 2025

You think what you say’s gon’ affect our vigour?
I think ’27 gon’ be your last drop, go figure.
Did us foul, why are we still pretending?
Court of owls. Bad leaders and bad snitches, more..
Workers not bums.
Circle a tale/tail when you rant.
Conniving with the flaw/flow.
The state is knee deep, exhausting dream by promise.
It’s always something, on how to service a leech.
Must have been a Most Wanted.
Change a law, the ballboys kick a bottom up kissin’.
To be or die, I had to spit somethin’.
Ancestors on a ledge, they flippin in their boxes.
What the letters stand for? “Deliberate Criminal Intent”? Bully.
This one is truly gonna cost ya, you’ll feel it when getting stepped on.
You won’t manage to duck it, probably go into hidin’.
Get your masks on, for action, the precedent, we hard worn.
Screw around, get abolished.
There’s pain and growing death in jail, no new writin’.
Then lie in our faces, apologies never arrivin’.
Our heroes rose home cause we didn’t deserve their ether.
Dandora burning to control, we speak their names in this arena.
Homabay ain’t seen her justice either, we prey gettin’ hunted by Glocks.
The moment you get registered, boots on your neighbourhood porch.
Bursting no knockin’, time’s up on the clock.
Now it’s all eyes on you, you ain’t got time to pack, ‘kay?
The people remain we, you are getting dropped, aye
Six piece voting? We are past the box, aye
How many deaths do you really have in mind? Aye
One, two, three, four, five, plus fifty? Aye
Most of ’em do lie, say on God, aye
They never speak true, especially when inside, aye
Retire them all, we need a fresh starter, aye
See this backup, raise the dust, get outside, aye

They not like us, they not like us, they not like us
They don’ like us, they don’ like us, they don’ like us

Verse 3: June 25th 2025

Not long ago, most of us were peaceful.
They still doubled down on the news calling us some thugs.
The same old conjecture, without doing the needful.
Mothers crying on the record, bodies piling for the bag.
We won’t clean up rivers because they are crime scenes.
Fast forward, 2025, your violence still chooses no gender.
You run to deny when your checks need a balance.
Breaking down to fool whom? Are you up for the challenge?
A call from the future said it’s a one term club. (aye, that)
Real soon your time gon’ be up. (that)
The streets will still get ahead.
That bar feels like it went right over your head. (aye, that)
Piki piki ‘pon key now can’t pick a side. (that)
Hustlers said that you good, but they lied.
Started off as banter, now it’s more shot callers.
Bullets for colleagues, we are supposed to be none the wiser.
The State matters but the truth of the matter.
It was never God’s plan but the words of a liar.

Bridge: 2025

Mm
Mhm
He’s done, he’s done, he’s done. (mm)
She’s done, she’s done, she a
Gangland trigger, she a ’27 gone
Gangland trigger, he a ’27 gone
They they they ruining your lives
They they they ruining your lives
Gangland trigger, she a ’27 gone
Gangland trigger, he a ’27 gone
They they they ruining your lives
They they they ruining your lives
Let me hear you say “HA-RA-MBEE” (HA-RA-MBEE)
Say “HA-RA-MBEE” (HA-RA-MBEE)
Today’s the day, new heroes day
Today’s the day, new heroes day

Outro: 2025

Are you Kenyan?
Are we comrades?
Today’s the day, new heroes day
Today’s the day, new heroes day

25th June 2025

#IAmKenyan, Culture, Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Kenya, Life, Politricks

UKOO?

The Divine Bandit

Naamka asubuhi napiga dua for vigeti, sala more natumia mama kwa kibeti.
Big fish kwa sahani ndio maana nashusha neti, ligi soh natafuta hizo zangu senti.
Pay per clue ama stage haijalipiwa, donda wa flow change yangu ni kitu pure.
Sticks and stones nikitusiwa, nabreak bones kama gwiji wa rap akiwapa kitu sure.
Colour kwa face, akala mpaka base, nakala ya case, nitashinda usitie shaka.
Maisha naichase, boots zangu nazilace, 7 am nishaset goals natoka kuzisaka.
Naruka mvi nastep on a Gen Z, usishangae water cannons zimejaa kwa nchi iko dry spell.
Wanasting kama Hessy, nabii ana appetite ya promises but hafurahi tukiskia dinner bell.
Tutazidi kufinya kama nyash kinky, 1-2 sio mic test bali ni kupunch more than lines.
Makanga amelewa na whisky, dereva amesema halali but you can see the signs.
Nina akili na nywele, locked kwa target wakirusha my comrades kwa boot.
Nauli ya hapo mbele, watch them split hairs trying to tap your root.
I’ll keep spitting truth through pain like my dentist was a priest.
Armed to the tooth because they freed a beast they thought didn’t exist.
My creations destroy and burn, no wonder I keep grilling them on my cage,
Walidhani I wouldn’t return, they should have braced themselves for my rage.
Usiku kabla nilale napiga goti bila kupaniki, Maulana  alinibariki hakunilaani.
Tajiri ama maskini ana siku ya kufariki, leo jina kubwa kesho yake FULANI.

Culture, Life, Prose, Travel, Work

TO MAKE A DECADE

The Divine Bandit

Today is a special day for me. It has been 10 years since I started working at Nielsen, to the date. December 1st 2010 was my reporting day. On the 2nd day I was off for graduation rehearsals and on the 3rd which was my first Friday I was off for my graduation at the UoN. However, because the stories and lessons from 10 years might be too much to write on, let me first take a step back to where and how this journey started.

My last month on campus was July 14th 2010. It was exactly one month after my birthday and meant having to study and clear my final exams at a time I would have chosen to be partying. But I was used to it. The Kenyan 8-4-4 system having exams or at least midterms in June was something I was used to.

After a few months of lounging, series watching and overall lazing around. Ok, I lie, I still had evening classes for my IT degree but for the first time in 4 years I had freedom during the day. This freedom proved too much for me to cope with and by October 2010 I was working as an online researcher at DAPROIM (Data Processing Information Management) Africa, the name may have changed since. I was a wage earner payable based on the number of validated questions answered. And this is where our story begins.

On October 21st 2010 at 3:29 PM (I still have the email to date), my elder brother forwarded me an email titled “Circulate Urgently”. The email originated from his best friend and roommate from his campus days. The reason I make sure to mention the time the email came in is because that vacancy was expiring the next day by 4 pm.

Now, these were not the days of smartphones, laptops at home or easily accessible internet. Even getting somewhere to type up a CV could prove a challenge then. Yes, I know I make it sound like 10 years ago was the dark ages, but maybe it was. More than half of these photos were taken on cameras not camera phones. However, because I had started my online research career where the personal email was used daily to share back the data, I did not miss this email. That night after I was done with work, I applied for the position. So quickly that I barely got the full info on the document correctly. I had never come across market research before then. The vacancy was a 6 month per rotation for 3 rotations young leaders program for a total of 18 months, basically a job. My understanding as I clicked send on the email was that it was a 6 month internship and we all know how much we are on the lookout for those after school. Before we have any proper experience in the job market. I just hoped they gave fare or lunch or something.

At the start of November I received an email from a company I did not know. Because how many in Kenya knew the name Nielsen then or still do? I had no recollection of my application due to the speed with which I had sent it in, to make the deadline. This was the first time I read up on the company properly. This time I included the full scope of market research and more as I prepared for the interview which by the way was just the next day from the invite email. There was therefore the small matter of attending the interview while still working elsewhere. My naivety or boldness led me to not my supervisor’s but the company owner’s office. Now deceased, his words remain the best push I could ever have needed at such a time. I was feeling terribly guilty to leave so soon. He said that my work for him was always meant to be temporary, it was a stepping stone to greater things especially for those recently out of school. He then proceeded to give me the next whole day off to prepare for the interview.

One face to face interview and two virtual interviews later, which included some parts in French because the role would require interaction with our Francophone countries, I was hired. With the requirement to get a passport as soon as possible. This is where the 10 year journey truly starts.

I could write pages upon pages of the lessons, the mistakes, the joys, the lows of the last 10 years but this post is just a celebration of time past. It celebrates the seconds, hours, weeks, months and years we have lived through, sometimes survived through as a working adult.

Most importantly, most people I know still make fun of not knowing exactly what I do. I have done loads and that might be the reason. Or I have done such specific work it is sometimes unknown to others. I will make sure to tag them on this post.

So for the last 10 years, here is a brief layman-termed breakdown of what I do or have done in the last 10 years.

  • Data Acquisition Specialist (DA Young Leader Program) – I managed projects including budgets, field personnel for fieldwork. I was learning the market research trade at the same time and hence the various trips for learning workshops. I completed my first BPI (Business Process Improvement) project by the end of the 3 rotations.
  • mRES Tech. Support Reach and Read E.A & C.A – Company transitions from Pen and Paper to Mobile Research. I become in charge of vendor training, technical know-how and online data quality analysis for East and Central Africa
  • Technical and Help Desk Manager, SSA (Sub Saharan Africa) – Same role expands further as more countries move to mobile research. I travelled to train new helpdesks to support the country. The French we might have forgotten comes in handy. Next thing I know, I am a manager by 25.
  • mRES, SOS & RRES Technical Leader; Back Office HHT support – More countries, more softwares, more data analysis, more people management.
  • Quality Management System (QMS) Lead – Emerging Markets – Provided insights for 64 emerging markets based on quality, cost, timeliness, productivity etc
  • Operational Insights Lead, Global Markets – All markets, any possible insight for operational cost effectiveness. Includes insights that could lead to enhancements to existing apps or new app development. Includes presentations on analytics and data studio dashboards.
  • Module and Process Owner/Lead, Navigator App – Liaison between software developers (Tech team) and user needs. Includes loads of documentation and follow ups to clear the product backlog. I get to learn and use JIRA as part of Agile product development.
  • Platform Support Specialist (QMS, GSR, GDA TM) – Analysis of root causes that make platforms and different modules unstable to the user. Document root cause analysis all the way to resolution while updating troubleshooting guides on a website that will guide the users in days to come.

All this while learning about work-life balance. Managing to keep my life of writing as intact as possible though the onstage performances may have suffered a bit. So as you enjoy my CV or decide to skip it, we come to the major question that reared its head even when I wrote my 5 year anniversary piece. “Why are you still in this one place?” The list is long and it includes many things from stability, excitement, innovations, use for this brain that won’t quit but my most important one is, managers.

There is a cliché that goes: “People don’t leave bad jobs, they leave poor managers.” As much as there is speculative truth in that for most people. It rings extremely true for me as I turn the page on this decade. 10 years, 8 titles and 11 managers later I am still here, having met only 2 of those managers face to face. It is great proof that a company is its culture. And there is no culture without people accepting and propagating it. Culture crosses borders, accents and screens. Culture makes employees feel needed and useful in their teams. Culture got me to a decade.

So this post is not only a celebration for me but an appreciation to those who laid the steps and kept me going for this last decade. My appreciation for that email forward from Pablo to Kevoh to me. My appreciation for the late Steve Muthee for the honesty and positive vibes he left behind and with me as I looked to start this career. My appreciation for all others who have made this 10 year journey not only manageable but enjoyable. And lastly to my Creator, who has seen it fit for me to see this day. Excelsior!!

#IAmKenyan, Culture, Hip hop, Kenya, Life, Politricks

MY GENGE NOTES

The Divine Bandit

Nilianza kuandika nikiwa form 2.
Enzi za ESir but nikakosa visa ya kustudy past the studio hii story ni true.
Nikarusha dice, nikaangukia ofisi kama kamari.
Lakini usanii hatutawahi sare.
Nitacontinue kushoot shots kama Alehandro lakini nitabakia mkarimu kama Benzema.
Nilitunga mistari kabla nipate ID lakini jina nikajipa sikuwa nameless.
Live up to the banditry najipox kila time ndio niwapee presha.
Shash ikareplace gomba kwa lyrics, maneno yanapaa juu sio moshi wicked.
Nimeflex kwa jua kali najenga future, it’s not all for the ladies.
Narusha macho kwa manzi wa Nairobi nasema rest in peace Lady S.
Pilipili hainiwashi bali yanipa morale ya kuknow nini ndio next step.
Tones ziko na genge mpya limemuok sio warazi tu wanarep.
Msanii ni kioo cha jamii, sauti ya umati lakini fikra za wengi.
Ndio maana artistes hukaa manarcissist juu lazima waiinsist.
Kubadili perception inayoharibu reception na kutoana rangi.
Ningekua reckless na message ya wakiritho lakini wako ritho.
Wanaeza ita SWAT na sio time yangu ya kulambana na the law.
So nitazidi kusema mi ni divine, “I’m a miracle, baby.”
Nimechungulia family nikaona hatutabaki kukohoa kwa Corolla.
Kama Femi tutawezana na wale wana vitambi Major?
Nani atatoa gang kwa boondocks and sail us kwa hao iko in a better state?
Juu maKartelo wamekuwa millionaire na pandemik, sealing our fate.
Nimenyongwa na ethics ndio nasimama kuchachisha.
Nitainama tena, haja ya haya maneno thao ikiisha.

#KenyanMusic #Genge #Gengetone #GengeNotes

Culture, Life, Love

#RedressForOurWomen “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” ― Virginia Woolf

The Divine Bandit

I have tried to calm down on this matter for as long as I could. This was to ensure that my thoughts and my opinion would not be lost among a cacophony of irate swear words and insults. I have really tried but still I feel that in no way is this going to be pretty. If you try to say otherwise of my intended objective, there’s a possibility I will mow you down. Physically or metaphorically.

Today is The International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. I am not just writing this piece because of this fact. I am writing because as of last night when I saw the third video of a woman being stripped in these very streets of Nairobi, I could not stomach it anymore. At first there was shame, shame that I had not talked of this sooner. Shame that I, like most naive Kenyans had believed the monsters and the hoodlums would be afraid of the law and not repeat such actions anymore. Shame that I had a belief in a system that has not given me any reason to trust in it. Shame, that I was a current generation man in this our beloved country.

Soon-after though, the anger came, the rage was boiling, my temples were pounding so hard and finally my ears became hot as if a true reflection of the white hot seething wrath that erupted from within the deepest of my element. I was angry and I still am. This last video, was a rape. How long ago was it that somebody compared the first video to a rape?? And now less than a week since #MyDressMyChoice the hooligans were at it in a worse manner. Inserting their fingers and touching a naked, bruised and beaten woman on the street.I am sorry but there are no better words to use and even if I did have them I would not use them. It is no longer the time to share videos that keep humiliating the victims. No, it is time to react, to fight back. If my writing annoys you as much as the videos would have, even better. She had to cower under a vehicle at which point they started yelling for the driver to move the car. These people are a virus. One of the men I noticed had a wedding band on his hand. His shirt was quite unique and I wondered; “Is there a wife somewhere watching this and knowing that that’s the man she chose to spend her life with??”

I am angry. At the person who just stood there recording these clips. At the men who were not part of the crime but just watched as all of it transpired. You will tell me that it is not safe for them to interfere. Did what was happening to the woman look safe to you?? Blows and kicks hurt and yes most are afraid of death. But be a man goddammit!! Stand up for the weak. This should be inherent in your nature. All you need to think of is how that person on the street could be your wife, your sister or your mother. And your fright will certainly change into fight. If you don’t do this, then the clips that will keep circulating will be of the despicable, implacable pieces of feculence winning and creating more fear in the society. They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. We are not even close to overturning this. But we have to try, one by one we have to stand up to these villains. The videos circulating must be of men and women standing up to face these fiends. One video will inspire some other people to do the same. We can use the same medium they have used to create something positive. Here is an example:https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=511834858916582&set=vb.100002702181334&type=2&theater

I don’t care if anyone stands with me. I shall stand alone. We are not so worse off that the evil people in the society have become more than the good ones. We are certainly running low on the brave. But we need to remember that courage is not the absence of fear but the ability to conquer it. We need to remember as one Desmond Tutu said: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

You are probably wondering why I am angry at all of you. All of you men. Inclusive of myself. You will talk back and say, you have not been a witness to such and you would have helped if you could. But no dear brother in negligence of duty. You probably have been privy to either of the below:

 

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  • A friend slapping a “rude” girl in the club or on the streets.
  • Your dad, uncle, grandfather, neighbour whipping his “manner-less” wife.
  • You teacher pinching the thighs or chests of girl students.
  • Your workmate or classmate “spanking” the behind of a female workmate.
  • You have walked by as street kids cornered a lady alone in the street so she could give money forcefully.
  • etc

These “cultural”, “innocent”, “disciplinary” actions are what has led to this. The belief that women are here to be controlled by you as a man. That men lead and women follow. That the only way to win an intellectual discussion against a woman is to make use of your stronger physical attributes. These men causing this current mayhem are just fully infected cells of the societal body. You have become a carrier. To heal the body, we will have to start by healing ourselves. We have tried peaceful protests. We tweeted and sent all manner of messages on social media. Now, we have to remember that it is faster to stop a bleeding wound with a hot iron than with bandages upon bandages.

I am calling you and you and you. I am an Alumni of the UoN and time and time again, SONU has been accused of conducting and effecting nonsensical strikes. At this point in time I wonder: How about we stand for something worth fighting for? Our women.

 

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“Everyone has a responsibility to prevent and end violence against women and girls, starting by challenging the culture of discrimination that allows it to continue.”

Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon

Culture, Life, Prose

Una Noche Loca – Part 1 The Ascent

The Divine Bandit

I knew I had the story to write about way before I had the title. The events of the past weekend but one will remain etched in my memory. There was fun, pain (caused by old age and other organisms), fear, hope, desperation and prayer. At the end of the less than 24 hour ordeal. We were all a bit stronger than we went in. We were tired but we (most of us that is) made a promise to face the demon again. All tools required for the exorcism at hand this time. I have an inclination to melodrama and hence the introduction might read like we were the cast of a real great movie. But no, this happened. and I will try to narrate the events to as much accuracy as I can remember.

That Saturday started in a very different way than most. Saturday 6 AM does not normally find me awake, dressed and calling people to plan for meeting points, items of clothing and wake other people up. I sleep at around 4 AM on Saturday mornings, wake up after midday and spend most of the day in boxers and a vest. So you see the difference, oh and we all know how much I hate phone calls. Yet I spend hours on calls with her. (We are not going to discuss this. I have spiked your interest I hope.)

About 3 hours later, having fought the Limuru mist where the 50KPH speed limit in Nairobi seems like Need For Speed kind of movement. We arrived at the foot of the Aberdares. We got lost..twice. Our rental van driver is not the best at directions but he’s a real good human being. You’ll know why later in the story or in the next one. We had only 7 hours to go up and back down Aberdares Elephant Hill. 4 hours to go up, 3 hours to go down.

We started at a slow pace, waiting for each other at certain points. But with time elapsing and with the Central province clouds gathering. We realised some people were here for a stroll, others for sight-seeing and then there was us who were here to conquer the hill, nature and some of our demons if possible. When you have a brain that keeps you awake for 48 hours sometimes without a wink of sleep. You’ll understand why, I needed the body to be fatigued in all kinds of ways. Just to get some beauty sleep that night. We gradually left the others behind and with the first ranger (There were 2, one at the front, the other at the back.) we set our sights on being at the peak before 6PM.

Soon after, hell’s fiery gates were becoming a bit loose at the hinges. We just didn’t know it. We laughed on the way. I was feeling the sweat on my brow and enjoying it. I love sweating for the right stuff, not like the current Nairobi sun in which you yawn and your palms become damp and have to take another liter of water. We had been walking for about an hour now. I could feel no fatigue. My lungs were working exceptionally well. I must be good at this cardio stuff. 😛 What I hadn’t counted on was the silly legs giving in.

I play football when I can, I walk to town almost everyday from Riverside and do squats with dumbbells every week day. So it was a complete surprise when passing through some bamboos, my right calf locked in a painful muscle cramp that had me on the ground in seconds. I was hurling cusses that would make milk curdle. 30 seconds later, the peeping hole in hell’s gates was open now. I was covered in Safari ants. Something tells me laughing at Wanja’s ordeal the week before or is it after? (My Karma might be a real mean b**** to see into the future) warranted this punishment. Yes she was attacked by Safari ants. 😀

This time, the cussing took an almost medieval turn. I think I was insulting those ants in Ogiek and high Neanderthalish. And these were not small ants, the ants in the Aberdares are either GymRats or Ninjas. With the bamboo cover, for an instance I felt like I was in Crouching Stupid Hidden Stubborn. My woes did not end there. As I stood up to run from them, mind you my other foot was still cramping so I was half walking, half crawling away. The left foot got the same cramp at the calf. I know, this is starting to seem far fetched. But nothing could be closer to the truth. At this time I let out a universal and forest wide “F***************************************************K!!”. It’s when I heard the echo and no person answering that I realised I was alone. Bollocks!!

In my struggle, I had been left too far behind by the pacesetters and was too far in front of the the second group. So here I was under cover of the bamboo trees closely knit together. No one in sight. Barely able to stand and slowly removing ants from hair. (Where’s a nice grooming monkey when you need one?) It’s at this particular moment that my aforementioned overactive brain decides to think of any eccentric wild animal that doesn’t follow rules and is not nocturnal like it should be. Like a leopard maybe. I grabbed a broken bamboo (seen below, we were to be companions for longer than I ever imagined) and now limping with both feet, (How possible that is only remains to be seen) trudged uphill, my cusses now reduced to whispers and whimpers with every step and now suffering from pain induced perspiration.

All Moses jokes aside. See my staff. :)
All Moses jokes aside. See my staff. 🙂

I did finally catch up with the team. They decided to wait for me. And boy was I happy to see them. I made grinning from ear to ear very literal.

How little I knew, the day would be getting worse. Because of the guy in red next to me.
How little I knew, the day would be getting worse. Because of the guy in red next to me.

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And here they waited for me. The Ranger having abandoned them and headed to the top.

My moods revived and a drink of water after. I was once again at the front. Leading the team to this goal that we were so intent on achieving. Do not ask me why they agreed to be led by a foul mouthed, injured and still ant infested Moses look alike. Oh the Moses part could have been it. Or maybe I just looked the most edible and of course the least capable of running away on the chance encounter with a wild animal. They’d take home a scapecoat of many colours to my mum if that happened. (Please, please tell me you got the genius of that statement 😛 )

If I fully describe the things we had to endure later on in the journey. These events might dilute the sincerity of the story. All I know is this. When the calves could no longer pain. Or my central nervous system just decided to ignore the pain. It was then that the cramps moved to my quadriceps (I can’t say thighs because for some reason that sounds lady-like. Worse in Swahili “Mapaja” Not a negative thing though). In the same order. My right quad then the left. At least no more ants then. But we would take a break every 1 minute, there was more rock than vegetation. Now with no more ability to lift my legs. I was wading through mud and water. The below is testament. Check the pants.

The thinking man pose was just to convince ourselves that we weren't idiots for having come this far.
The thinking man pose was just to convince ourselves that we weren’t idiots for having come this far.

I was the willpower despite the lack of the ability to walk normally anymore. And my friends had the strength to keep me up when I was almost falling down. And at 6.30PM, I stepped at that peak, as the first of 2 people in our group. The other being Cesar who had made sure I wasn’t left behind to be some animal’s dinner or an elephant’s rag doll.

We made it to the top. And with our perseverance as inspiration many more than we had expected made it too.  We smiled and laughed and lay on the grass exhausted. But a really cold fog covered us and we knew we had to get back down and soon. It would be a 2 hour descent. With heavy rain probably coming, animals waking up for the hunt and of course darkness and a very expansive bamboo forest to cross.

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It got cold quickly at the peak. Gloves came out fast.

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The A – Team

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People holding each other up for a photo.. This is a perfectly balanced symbiotic relationship. 😀

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Doesn’t this remind you of Munyao on that Independence Day moment?

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This photo has no filter, no flash was used and no it wasn’t sunny. We were surrounded by white, cold fog.

Join me on part 2 – The Descent

Culture, Deep and overstood, Dionysus, Kenya, Life, Love, Lust, Prose, Travel

Monday..brrr….yawn…oh..a template… :)

The Divine Bandit

Namaste bi…Wait that’s Kevin Mutua’s greeting on the Sanaa Whatsapp group. It’s been a cold 2 months and now we are on the 3rd one. Heed Eddard Starks words : “Winter is coming” and Ebola might be the Whitewalkers. Just thinking out loud.

I found it fun when I found this template. Seems people have direct answers for most of this stuff. But as usual my brain always reads too much into simple words so this is my version.

 

Making: Love? No? Ok, making time count. I am trying to get loads of things I have procrastinated on before done. Like editing my poetry script and hopefully publish the best 30.

Cooking: Way too many eggs!! I have them in everything. Rice, Toast, Spaghetti etc. But I am craving that protein and energy due to my new workout regime. Twice a day at 7 AM and 10 PM is hard work especially after a long day’s at work.

Drinking: Tusker. But that’s too common. So the new thing I’m drinking is Kate’s Organics Green Tea. I have had it in my work locker for a while now. It’s a great stress reliever, antioxidant and yes, that secret weight loss method I have used before. Dropped 5 kgs in a month. Now dropped 15 to date. Oh but don’t think that is the only thing you gotta do. I don’t take sugar at all and remember working out mentioned above.

Reading: Game of Thrones. Been at it on my phone for 3 months now. Had to find something to do once the series was done for the moment.

Wanting: To find a football pitch with a real organised team close to work. I am tired of my own where the pitch has so much gravel that every time I fall, I’m ruled out for 2 months. How will I ever manage to impress Wenger’s scouts??

Playing: I wanna say her but I am single so mmmhh let’s say Candy Crush but I got stuck at level 86 four months ago and I kind of gave up. I have therefore for the moment joined the bandwagon of hating on those who send requests on Facebook.

Wasting: Sleeping hours. I sleep for about 4 hours daily. Except on weekends when I overdo it. I need to sleep more. But that means I need to slow down my brain without using any drugs. Proving to be quite a feat.

Sewing: My vests?? I think I should just buy new ones or just stop working out. Or both. My biceps are 12 inches now. I think. I know brag brag brag…so my sleeved vests suffer.

Enjoying: Watching arsenal’s pre-season games. Sanogo is coming of age but that kid Bellerin is who I want to see more of. Damn that pace!!

Liking: My renewed OCD to clean up for myself. No more washing ladies and I have managed to do my washing and general cleaning 5 times now.

Loving: The fact that I found these bunch of misfits we met while in high school. All of them. There was Ann, Tracy and Nyambura. And all of us finally, all of us reconnected on Facebook. It has been a long 10 years.

Dreaming: Of Premier League glory. So close and possible I can almost taste it.

Hoping: That she understands my French. My words, my poetry, my only mastered language. 😀 Who is she? I have no idea.

Marveling: At these Dubai water fountains that dance to “I will always love you” in tribute to Whitney Houston. The science and the art that went into this is amazing.

Needing: 3 table spoons of codeine filled cough syrup so I can get some sleep. These coughing is making me lose so much sleep.

Smelling: Absolutely nothing. The almost 3 month cold spell has done well to work against my flu immunity and I get like a bout every 2 weeks. So now my nose is blocked. Food tastes like cardboard. (Don’t ask when I ever tasted it but I did.) But worst of all, I hate the coughing that makes girls shun you just at the moment when you need warmth and hugs. 😦 😛

Wearing: This awesome blazer. Well worth the price. Even the camera guys at the Heineken Desperado Launch could not stop taking photos of it. 😀  Thanks B.A.K.E for the invite again.

 

Photo Courtesy of Bundi Anassi Photography
Photo Courtesy of Bundi Anassi Photography

Following: @Jeanwandimi  of http://thewineandfoodreview.com/ and  of  http://theveon.wordpress.com/ One writes about wine and alcoholic events 😀 , the other about campus stories and puppy love poetry. 😛 Both read my blog. Great writers and great personalities.

Noticing: Despite my initial criticism of Instagram, 2 weeks without an android phone is killing me. I also miss Instant Twitter. Follow me at @TheDivineBandit and http://instagram.com/thedivinebandit I won’t follow back today or this week either but I will when I come back to a 100+ notifications.

Knowing: I’m like 3 years away before the nudges at family events to “get married” become full on body charges followed by a scrum down and a neighbour’s daughter as a try. That sounded mean but I had to clear the sports analogy.

Feeling: Happy despite the blocked nose, inflamed throat and erratic coughing. I am alive and so is all of my nuclear family and my best friends and friends. Most that I know of are in good health. Feeling a bit sad when I think of Robin Williams. A little is an understatement.

Eating: P….Pus…It’s spelled Pistachios damnit!! I like indulging in some exotic nuts..Ok this keeps sounding wrong. So I guess I’m done. 😀