In answering his question, I jumped in with my own theory. My take was quite simple. Looking back at the formative years of this country, it is easy to spot similarities between the men that were assassinated. JM, Pio Gama Pinto, and TJ were all politicians whose leadership transcended tribe. At a time when tribal politics was all the leverage politicians sought for posturing and positioning purposes, these three men had chosen to travel the road less traveled and were rewarded for it. It was that extra quality that enabled them to melt through tribal barricades without putting on the pretentious smiles of most politicians which endeared them to all and sundry. This was also their Achilles heel because those pretentious smiles of their fellow envious politicians lit the way to their respective deaths. They had bright political stars and the powers that be saw that it was easier to eliminate those pawns that were on the path to being crowned queen, the most powerful piece in the game. Their blindness to tribe that accorded them adoration from the masses politically meant that they had a clear path to the presidency that only death could stop, and so they died. With them died that symbol of nationhood that we are frantically searching for today.

This was the time when Parselelo Kantai made his way into the tent. After an apology and a brief introduction, he listened for a while and then posed quite a potent question. He asked whether any of us had ever watched the documentary series “Makers of a Nation” by Hillary Ng’weno. We all had. He then asked whether any of our politicians had integrity because gauging from this documentary series, one would be hard pressed to find any one politician whose principles were not contingent on the political mileage they stood to gain.  The same people took up outrageously opposing stands depending on the political tides and hence the difficulty in confidently attributing certain core values and principles to any of these politicians. So going back to the assassinations, he asked whether any of these “heroes” had any integrity and hence the reason died or were they destined to follow the morally bankrupt route that their colleagues who lived did. Can we confidently assert that they were beyond reproach or have we just given them the benefit of doubt because they died before we could find out?

Alkags, another author who had just launched his book – a compilation of short stories by old men and women whose voices were unheard – joined the conversation at this point. He had come in earlier but was busy eating a bugger behind me. His mind was set. Informed by the intricate knowledge he had garnered while interviewing the older generation for his book, he was convinced that it all came down to being on the right side of an argument. He figured that since very few politicians in Kenya would be considered principled, the positions they took on any one issue were based on what they stood to gain. He said that those who were assassinated were not morally superior, they did not have the integrity we claim they had, and they would not have “saved” this country had they lived; they were just politicians who were on the right side of the argument at the times of their deaths. He argued that even today, if a politician with a track record tainted with corruption like a graffiti wall were to die, accidentally or not, Kenyans would claim that he was assassinated for his beliefs and dub him a hero. He was convinced that we would have hated these guys like the rest of them if they had lived, for integrity in Kenya is subject to convenience.

When Alkags was done, this guy of Indian or maybe Caucasian descent said that whichever way we chose to look at it, it came down to what Marvin (me) said. He said that it was also his belief that those who were assassinated had to die because of the political threat that they were becoming. They represented what the politicians of the time and also today’s both within and outside the establishment feared the most, leaders who would not be coerced for fear of losing tribal votes because they already had all ilk of voters in the bag. He wondered if we found it curious that only those leaders who could without travesty transcend tribal lines were the ones to meet the assassin’s bullet. This definitely exacerbated tribal mistrust by creating rifts between tribes and in retrospect, it was the classic case of divide and rule policy that politicians have been reaping from to date. He then requested us to ask ourselves whether we were really serious about putting an end to tribalism because all the actions we had taken as a country suggested the contrary to be the case. For instance, instead of urging them on and nurturing them, we killed the only leaders who never hid behind tribe; the very people who were the symbol of a tribe called Kenya. And even in today’s charged atmosphere of tribal alliances that began back then, one gets the feeling that if such versatile leaders with nationwide appeal as TJ were to emerge, they would be met by a bullet from new age assassin on the orders of old age politicians or their apprentices.

And it has nothing to do with tribe is my belief. People from my own tribe will kill me if they thought that my nationalistic outlook will deny them the leverage of consolidating tribal votes for posturing purposes. And nothing said it more clearly than the words of Okuku, the brother to Tom Mboya when he addressed mourners at the funeral of JM Kariuki. Borrowing from the now famous words of the German reverend, he said and I paraphrase “when they killed pinto, you kept quiet because you are not Indian; when they killed Mboya, you kept quiet because you are not Luo; now they have killed J. M. Kariuki.”

—

Part four will follow tomorrow…

So what began as whispers in bedrooms, at street corners, and in university hostels had now grown into fully fledged public conversations that were challenging the status quo. The people who were party to these conversations were querying everything under the sun within the Kenyan borders. Gradually, the whispers of those earlier unseen got louder with each additional conversation that joined this amorphous grid of people talking. And with every opinion raised outside official channels, the official accounts of our history among other state positions diminished in stature.  Those who were there but were left out of the history books began coming out of the woodworks to tell their stories. They were distancing themselves from and denouncing the official accounts saying that they were fabrications based on official hearsay. Apparently, our school history curricula were accounts written by intellectuals as politicians recounted their romanticized version of what took place. This was propaganda par excellence that is only today coming under attack on a wide scale. We are only learning that politicians hijacked the independence train after it docked on the uhuru station and have been riding it to date. But no more! The secret is coming out and with the advent of Google, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, Blogs and MySpace in this age, information has become viral and it will not be long now until everybody is in on any one of the thousands of conversations simultaneously taking place.

The recurrent theme in most of these conversations is that the writing of our history needs to have another side to the coin other than the president’s. Soon enough, students with the benefit of this alternative information at their fingertips will give teachers a tough time answering what they themselves were never taught in school. There will be a need for a total overhaul of the curricula to reflect the true dialectics of history that we were never privy to. Watching Hillary Ng’weno’s documentary series ‘Makers of a nation’ should serve as a preview for those who will rewrite the curricula. It has exposed all those elements that define humanity in its coverage. It was not edited to make it clean-cut, picture perfect, and full of hero worship jargon like we were used to. On the contrary, it has laid bare all the angles that we could never see before. It has shown that these “leaders” were liars, thieves, selfish, corrupt, and conniving bastards at their best. Basically, they were just men among who were fewer men who had integrity. The few good men unfortunately never got far. Ng’weno’s account is one that has been lost to many and which needs to be taught to this new generation. It has all the cards laid bare on the table such that the rainbow is no longer as pretty. The illusion is over and the reality harsh.

But today, people will not sit back and watch this documentary as the source of all truth but rather as just one way to look at things. Society today has embraced the concept of “a google a day keeps ignorance away” and so this documentary will be just one among many sources of information to be interrogated. It will be incorporated into the ongoing conversations. Having questioned the version of history that was peddled to us for a long time, I had my ear out scanning the channels and soon enough I caught on to the whispers signal. I tuned in and became part of the undertone conversations. I have since kept tabs on these whispers both off and online and have been part of their journey to becoming open conversations. Hopefully I will be instrumental in their becoming movements. In these conversations, I have accepted ideas, rejected people, insulted personalities, acknowledged struggles, agreed to disagree, and changed my mind. In short, I participated. Throughout all these, my friends who don’t quite get it have on numerous occasions asked me why the hell I am so preoccupied with this stuff. My only answer to them has been the mind-blowing excerpts of what is actually being said in these different forums.

Earlier this month, I was at the Storymoja Hay Festival to experience all the various forms of art being exhibited there. There was music, poetry, storytelling, discussions, debates, pictures, drawings, movies, books and every other thing that constitutes art. Each was happening in its own tent at different times over the three days the event lasted. That Saturday afternoon at the Can-do tent is where I last engaged in yet another conversation. This was an interesting debate where the topic to be interrogated was ‘Assassinations in Kenya’. Listed as moderators were PLO Lumumba and Parselelo Kantai and on getting there the room was packed…

I waited with the rest as the organizers frantically ran about trying to locate our renowned moderators but they were nowhere to be found. There was however this guy who decided to start us off. He introduced himself as an author but whose name I am at pains trying to remember. At first he had difficulty finding his words and articulating the subject at hand and that prompted a few people to walk out of the tent. They were frustrated that they did not get to see Kantai or hear a big speech by PLO. Lost to them though was the fact that conversations craft their own agenda, set their own pace, follow their own rhythm and that no one big speech could substitute for collective thought on the issue. If PLO had come and started giving us a speech, I would have walked out. Those of us who understood this remained and our author guy got us started by posing a question. He asked us whether those who were assassinated and to whom we had since designated the tag “heroes” really deserved that title. He especially took issue with the late J. M. Kariuki whom he termed a hypocrite because whereas in public he claimed to speak for the poor squatters, in private he had amassed thousands of acres of land. By virtue of owning that land, he was himself responsible for creating the squatter problem in the country. He said that the late JM was merely opium for the masses; he was no hero and since we all die, death whether by assassination or accident does not make us heroes…

Tagged: Africa, Conflict, Kenya, Kenya's Downfall, Leadership, lessons, Society, Youth Agenda ]]> http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/whispers-of-the-unheard-part-2/feed/ 0 marvintumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/whispers-of-the-unheard-part-1/ http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/whispers-of-the-unheard-part-1/#comments Thu, 12 Nov 2009 07:05:37 +0000 Marvin K. Tumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/?p=705 ]]>

A few months back, I submitted this story to a Kwani! sponsored writing competition but they have never bothered to announce the winners or write back. They later announced a similar competition with same prices but with minor changes to it including a new deadline. I was pissed because common courtesy requires one to take just a few minutes to type an email and cc it to those of who bothered to submit our pieces prior to the first deadline. I have since written to them to express my disappointment especially because I looked up to them a lot and they have not gotten back to me yet. Because I will not allow my work to go to waste in some inbox called  “mykenyakwani@gmail.com,” I have decided to post it here but in parts because it was quite long.

I hope you enjoy it and look forward to your thoughts on it and its content…

When we were kids, we had this belief that our fathers were superheroes. This was apparent in the number of times we invoked their names as a defense mechanism. Whenever we felt threatened, we would bring into play these then magic words, “nitaambia baba yangu” which would always ensure our safety from would be perpetrators. We lived in a cocoon whose sheath was the illusion that our fathers were invincible. But part of growing up, for those of us that did, meant acknowledging that these fairy tale stories held no water. When the western kids on TV were crying themselves to sleep on realizing that Santa was not real, we were also coming to terms with the consequences of realizing that our fathers were just human, no more fallible than the next man, woman, or even us. After our fathers suddenly became obsolete, invoking their names in our defense became a sign of weakness and those who did became the subject of ridicule and were even dared to go tell. To survive this new phenomenon, we had to learn fast that the farther we could isolate our fathers from our brawls and start fending for ourselves, the greater our odds became. This meant we had to get into fist fights, arguments, competitions, and so on to establish hierarchy both within us and with other rival kids. The illusion was over and the reality harsh but especially so for those who were late in dispensing away with these illusions.

During my teenage years, I realized that these illusions were not restricted to children alone but extended to our parents too. Illusions were a national pandemic and whereas our parents already knew the limitations of being human, they still held on to some false belief that having some prominent personalities in government would augur well for their tribe in the same way our fathers did before we saw the light. It was tantamount to being rehabilitated of a cigarette addiction only to take up cocaine or opium; a new high. I remember how in our childish games we would recite how patriotic we were. This unconditional love for our country was rarely invoked unless it had the name of some prominent personality attached to it. “Be a patriot like Kenyatta” or “Be a patriot like Moi”, we were told and likewise we recited with a sense of pride that only children would have. In the eyes of our parents and teachers, these were the men to whom we owed our independence and democratic rights and to who we should be forever grateful. They were passed as selfless leaders, heroes who sacrificed to fight for our independence, the embodiment of righteous men who deserved to lead this country. For us kids that had just grown up from one fantasy, our parents were doing a good job ushering us into the next one; the delusion of tribal politics.

And so it came to be in school. The compulsory history lessons were filled with sound bytes of Kenyatta this, Moi that, Odinga this, Mboya that and so on and so forth. But something in me was not buying it. I was one of those kids who thought that my father was unconquerable but I grew up and was not going to fall prey to the same script with a political cast. At that young age, I remember hearing my dad angrily curse a man when we were driving to his workplace and I was shocked. Parents weren’t supposed to curse. Then over the years, I saw that his coming home late was because he was struggling to make ends meet. I was shocked that he was not the boss where he worked and the full scale of this hit me when he was retrenched and we had to move from the company staff houses. He now had to struggle on a whole new level for his family and the strain this had on him was now more evident than ever. Though we never lacked, to see my father in that vulnerable position where he was just another man with his faults, fears, and who everyday struggled like every other man with a wife and kids to do right by them was an eye-opener for me. Informed by this, I treated our GHC (Geography, History, and Civics) lessons with great skepticism. It was all too neat.

Later in life when I had developed a good enough brain to interrogate issues, I realized that our history lessons had hitherto read like storybooks in the cliché sense of the word. I began to notice the discrepancies in the text and sense the words that rung so hollow they echoed. But the beauty of vacuums is that they are in a constant lookout for something to fill them. That was how I came to notice the conversations taking place around me. These conversations were so markedly different that I wished our history classes would have comprised people simply talking, asking questions, giving opinions, sharing, agreeing, disagreeing and engaging as opposed to the bird’s eye view kind of history that we were taught in class. Soon after noticing them, these conversations began taking over every space; each choosing its own topic and recounting its own version and understanding of issues. From talk shows on TV, chitchats while playing cards, high profile panel discussions to street corner deliberations, conversations were taking place. Reservations were cast aside as debates were raging, feelings were expressed, rumours were exchanged, facts articulated, opinions conveyed, and questions posed. From all the above came new understanding, greater insight, renewed doubt, more questions, a couple of answers, and death to delusions.

So what began as whispers in bedrooms, at street corners, and in university hostels had now grown into…

Tagged: Africa, Arap Moi, Conflict, Corruption, Kenya, Kenya's Downfall, Leadership, lessons, Society, Youth Agenda ]]> http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/whispers-of-the-unheard-part-1/feed/ 0 marvintumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/04/africa%e2%80%99s-melting-pot/ http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/11/04/africa%e2%80%99s-melting-pot/#comments Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:59:37 +0000 Marvin K. Tumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/?p=700 ]]>

I would have started by writing that “there is no greater believer in the reach and power of social media than myself”, if it were true. But I am in there with millions of others who feel as strongly, desire as passionately, and who are participating even more fervently than myself. The beauty of Social Media and its inherent power has been in its ability to connect people and interests. It is with this in mind that I wish to publish the content below which was sent to me by Juliet Maruru. She herself has been at the forefront of using social media to encourage emerging writers to become.

She is now introducing Africa’s melting pot – Afripot. I am already boiling in there and I hope to see you there too as conversations over there about Africa with Africans pick up and heat up. Who knows, it may generate enough heat to force some of the changes we so badly need.

Read what she has to say and see what Afripot is all about.

Thank you and this is what Juliet has to say…

–
Afripot – Africa’s Melting Pot!

It is interesting how fast communications paths have evolved. From mail that took a few months to arrive at its destination, to express mail that was expected to arrive in 3 to 7 days, and then email, instant messages, facebook, twitter… The modern professional needs to keep learning all the time just to keep up with the fast changes.

Africans living and working at home, or living/studying and working abroad, all of us are very much interested in seeing our country not just developing economically and financially, but also protected from greedy and corrupt individuals who would seek to deplete all the resources Africa has available.

The Swahili tribe has a saying, “Kidole kimoja hakiuwi chawa.” One finger cannot kill lice. To be in a position to understand the Africa we live in, her challenges, and the possible ways to make her better, we need to do more than observe. Africans need to get together in dialogue, information and enlightenment in order to ever be able to devise processes for better democracy, stronger economies and even stronger societies.

Afripot is the answer to the question. As Africa’s Melting Pot, this new web portal seeks to bring together the North, South, East and West of Africa, in a conglomeration of information, discussion and creative intercourse that aims at opening the doors to the further development of our beloved Africa.

As well as offering you news that affects Africa, we also offer forums and networking applications that can make it possible for you to connect with your friends as well as with new contacts from all over Africa.

To advertise your business or event, please go to www.afripot.com and fill in the contact form to the right of the website.
“I read myself out of poverty, long before I worked myself out of poverty.” Walter Anderson

–

Thank You in advance on behalf of Juliet for following the link and becoming a member.

I was still very young. We woke up one morning to find our kitchen window wide open. It did not take a genius to figure out that we had been robbed. We went outside the house and sure enough, we found the evidence of the activity that took place the night before. From our window to the gate and beyond, we found a tract; not two like those made a bicycle, not wide like those made by a car; just one tract like that made by a wheelbarrow.

We followed it like breadcrumbs with the eagerness of cartoon characters believing that it would lead us to the perpetrators of this heinous crime. But no sooner had it reached the main road than it ended. The tarmac road was a street away and the few cars that roamed the roads then in addition to the human traffic had done a good job of wiping the tract away. We returned to our house, the entire neighbourhood kids behind us and we were eager to hear my mum’s assessment of the damage. This was after all her kitchen and my dad had probably never set foot in there . She said that her Sufurias including the one she had soaked because we had eaten Ugali the previous night, her frying pans, her spoons and basically every other utensil that was in the kitchen that night had been stolen including the ones holding the leftover food. The food went too.

The second time we were robbed was less dramatic but with the same wheelbarrow. My Dad with his blue second-hand Datsun was the victim. He woke up in the morning and on starting his car realized that the battery was missing. These bastards had come at night, popped the hood of the car open, took the battery and put it in the wheelbarrow and wheeled it away.  My dad was stark raving mad. Over the next few weeks or months, for security he had an electric wire connected to the body of the car just in case those thieving bastards came back. We had not heard of alarms in those days, not even on TV.

Our last experience with thieves was a wrong call. There we were, sleeping; me and my bro on one bed in the other room and my mum and the twins (then very young) in the other. My dad had not yet come home because he used the car for a few hours every night as a taxi to supplement his monthly income. Suddenly in the dead of the night, we heard the loudest pounding on the door as if in a frantic effort to break it down. My mum SCREAMED! The louder the pounding got, the more deafening her screams became. But unlike tradition, nobody showed nor showed any signing of coming to help. Eventually, these guys identified themselves as cops and cursed my mum over and over because of her screams. I was under the bed at the time. They announced they were looking for thieves (which my mum had mistaken them for – I WONDER WHY?) A lady with four young kids was not enough to convince them to leave her alone; she had to go borrow money from the neighbours to bribe them to leave. She had already given them all she had and they were not satisfied.

So effectively, the third time we were robbed, it was by the cops. Corruption did not start yesterday.

But that was it. Over the years, people who had been caught stealing were killed. Many had passed through our estate as they ran towards the slum area adjacent to the park. We usually followed the mob and found the alleged thieves either being stoned, being burnt, or already dead. We never knew what they stole, where they stole, or whom they stole from. And dead men don’t talk. Rumours however abound with people telling their versions of the story. But it was never nothing more than a purse, clothes from the line, a bicycle etc. There were these two who had stolen mattresses and on being caught, were tied in between the mattresses and lit up. They died a very painful death.

But that was then. A robbery mission for thieves involved going to steal without raising any alarm. Stealth mode was their modus operandi and simple things the objects of their desires.

But increasingly over the years, crime changed. Crime was no longer about stealth but about force. The balls that the police had back then to slam our door in the dead of the night had now transferred to criminals. They came to steal with big stones to knock door downs, machetes to threaten to harm or harm the occupants and came in large numbers so as to carry as much as possible. Whereas we had grown in an estate with wooden doors, wire mesh grills, where fences were imaginary or wooden or natural (thorny trees); new building that came up were built had with wooden doors but reinforced with an outer metal door, metal window grills, and high-rise brick fences topped up with broken glasses. Force was being met with force.

Still it was not enough. Where people were resourceful, criminals were creative. They no longer used brute force to make their way into a house but rather came equipped. They came with padlock cutters which were also used to also cut the window grills, some came with oxygen tanks to burn through the grills and metal doors, and there was a case where these bastards carried a grenade just to force open a door. Money now became the difference between safety from robberies and being victims. Those with money hired the best security agencies whose numbers had now surged. They also had electric wires surrounding their fences and well fed big-ass dogs guarding their homes. And just in case, they had a gun in the house and bodyguards with them the rest of the time.

But criminals got guns too. Safety was no longer a priority in our homes alone but everywhere else too. What was being stolen was now not just in the homes. The game had changed. There was money in the bank, money being ferried to the bank, value of the car, jewels, phones, laptops etc and this is what the target became. Carjacking increased, muggings became rampant, ngeta became a noun, and crime had evolved yet again. The victims had to become creative. We bought cheap phones, used plastic money, carried laptops in paper bags (kando ya nyanya na kitungu) and made every other effort to make ourselves least likely to be potential targets. But now crime became personal. When these thieving bastards find you with a cheap phone, they have the audacity to insult you and break the phone and encourage you to buy phones worth stealing. They find you with a debit or credit card and force you at gun point to withdraw everything and max-out your credit card.

From personal, crime became brutal and inhumane. People no longer just lost they property, they lost more. They no longer just steal from you now. The hijackings were never complete without a dead driver or a raped woman and increasingly men too. Now they also cut private parts off. The Mungiki tortured and then cut the heads of their victims off. And with human life seemingly worth less today than ever before, killers for hire has become a thriving business in Kenya. Kidnappings for ransom in now the fad among the criminal fraternity and given all these, I am scared what will happen next.  I talked to mum the other day and she told me of a case in a Nairobi estate where kids sent to the shops are drugged, molested and left for dead. I missed the story on TV but honestly, when we can turn against our own children like this; haven’t we reached the end of the line?

What happened to the days when crimes were simple? When you would wait until I was asleep to steal my shirt from the line. What is happening to our society?

A wife cannot trust his husband with their daughter; a mother cannot trust her brother or even father with her daughters; you cannot trust your neighbour with your kids; a man cannot trust his wife with the pin number; a parent does not trust the teachers with his/her children; the owner does not trust the watchman with the property; a father is not sure whether these kids are his; and everyone in society is potentially a threat to the next person in any number of ways. Just in the last month, a maid stabbed her employer to death, a young mother threw her just born infant from the balcony, a head teacher was ejected from school by parents for raping their daughters, a kidnapped Sudanese child was brutally murdered because the ransom was not paid, and KES 33 million shillings was stolen through a collusion of cops and robbers.

Can we take all these in our stride and if we can, I wonder what will shock us enough to stop, think, and wish for the days when crimes were simpler.

I not a romantic.

I wrote earlier that I am embarrassed by emotions and that is the gospel truth. Just the other day, I talked to my ex and she told me that she failed to connect with me on an emotional level. That was her take on why we broke up. I am still not sure and never bothered to ponder over it because what’s done is done.

But I am not sure what it is people mean when they say connect on an emotional level. I can be emotional,I guess, but I hide it when I am because I am embarrassed by it. I just watched August Rush and I was moved. That kid playing the guitar like that was classic. But what made me teary eyed was the young black girl whose voice towards the end of the movie soared as she accompanied the the classical musicians in August’s Rhapsody.That is an emotional connection,isn’t it.

But I guess what my ex meant was that I get that emotional with her. But I do not choose when to get emotional and when not to,it just happens. And when it does, I sneak somewhere and let that moment of weakness pass. I may wipe the teary eyes to erase the evidence too. And I am not just embarrassed by the mushy stuff alone; I also get embarrassed when I lose my cool. I don’t get angry for flimsy reasons and when I do get angry, I don’t easily lose it.

I have for this reason been asked why I am not angrier? I do get angry, but moderately because extremes of anger are emotionally draining and leave one the worse off.

But today has been to say the least interesting. A Sudanese friend of mine who wanted to buy a net book that I had a while back came into the cyber and started whispering to my friend victor. We call him Garang and he had an agenda today. I later realized that he had agreed with Viktor that the latter was to write for him a love letter. I guess Garang’s writing was not up to par or something of the sort. So he dictated as Viktor wrote “my love this,” “I love you like that,” “I will see you when” and so on the letter read.

After Victor was done, Garang asked him to spruce it up a bit to which Viktor headed for the fonts section and pimped up the text with some fancy font I can’t spell. He printed out the copy and Garang read through it and was pleased. This was surely going to win him this girl. I smiled thinking that I would not be caught dead pouring out such confessions, on paper. I could say them if cornered, but never on paper. That is just too corny for me.

As I came to find out, it was not just me who was behaving like this, people who had interacted with me looked at me funny whenever they saw me approaching emotion-ville. They were effectively telling me that I did not belong which is true.There ere things that people knew without me telling them that I would not do. There were places I would never venture to. They was only a particular class of ladies I would date. And I would go about all these in a calm non-assertive way that told people I did these because I wanted to.

I remember a few years back when I was still in campus when this lady came by my hostel. She found me busy washing my clothes; I have never seen her smile the way she did that day. “Oh my God! Marvin! you wash your own clothes?” I found it bizarre and ridiculous that she would react the way she did. But apparently she got the impression that I would be too busy, or whatever to wash my own clothes. She expected either my girlfriend or the washing ladies to be the ones hunkered down doing the washing for me.

But what they did not know is that I come from a family of five kids, all boys. The only fair-lady in our house is our mom for whom we have the utmost respect. From a young age, we started cooking, cleaning after ourselves, and in every way became self sufficient. There was never any job that was too good for us or “for women.” In fact, my mum only cooked when she felt like it; the rest of us kids cooked most of the time, washed up after ourselves, and handled every other thing that needed handling.

On the emotional stuff, this was a house of boys. We did every thing that boys did. My mum has seen all kind of injuries that we picked over the years. I fell down a hill, my big bro sat on a piece of bottle that did quite some damage and also broke his hand while attempting a somersault in school, my small brothers tore something,broke something, grazed something, were cut, stung, hit and sustained all other manner of injuries in the process of being boys. And this was our house. If they came to crying about a scraped knee, I would tell them that I fell down the hill so that to me was nothing. My bro would tell them he broke his hand and had be told by others that his hand was broken; he did not even notice so all these were petty stuff. TAKE IT LIKE A MAN was the message conveyed. And we did. There was no crying or acting all mushy because we would ridicule each other.

I remember the whole family bursting out in laughter when one of the twins made a statement about us not understanding his “needs”. He joined us when he caught on to the absurdity of the statement.

Except for one of the twins who thinks that he is Casanova, the rest of us do not go around confessing our love with roses in our hands. We do not go around looking for love quotes to regurgitate to the fairer sex.

But romanticism is not tied to love and relationships alone; it is extended to the general world where people usually have this romanticized of the world or their leaders. Because I will not say words I do not mean to my fiancee means that I will never swear my allegiance to anything I do not believe in or agree with in principle. Over the years, I have been trying to master saying what I mean and meaning what I say. It is cliche, I know. But it is also priceless in practice.

So at the end of the day, I told my ex when we were having this conversation that I will not cry on cue, I will not get down on one knee unless the knee feels like bending, I will not use cliche love sound-bytes just for the sake of it, and I will always make it known where it is that you lie with me. The same goes for business transactions, contractual obligations, or any other form of relationship that I engage in with other parties. A reply to a thread a while back asked me to always say what I mean in as many or as little words as possible so that I won’t have to claim that I was misrepresented.

So to those pouring out your hearts, I hope that how you were raised by your parents made it easy to wear your heart on your sleeves and that you are no just out to get some. For those of you are not embarrassed by emotions,  continue doing your thing because people need the kind of love that is uninhibited and which cannot flow freely over here.

I had a point when I started writing this a while back. I am no longer sure what that point is but I hope I have made it. Because I am tired and this has been a long day. I am in no position to think and you may have to disregard the this post from the point you felt I was losing my drift.

I am traveling tomorrow to Nairobi and it will mark the beginning of a new month with a lot in store. I will get back to you on my progress because I intend to write a series of posts on entrepreneurship ventures in Kenya and my experience as a budding entrepreneur.

Wish me luck and all the best to you to in your endeavours this month.

Tagged: Kenya ]]> http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/27/romance-and-lack-thereof/feed/ 7 marvintumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/blogs-i-read-and-october-agenda/ http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/blogs-i-read-and-october-agenda/#comments Fri, 25 Sep 2009 11:28:50 +0000 Marvin K. Tumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/?p=688 ]]>

I have not been here for a while now. I visit now and then but I am mostly on other blogs, earlier only to read but lately to also engage. I have visited sites that are relevant to my start-up and the funny thing is that whatever I google, I end up on a blog as opposed to a website.

The result has been my subscription to so many great blogs that I need to keep my eyes on especially if I am to stay ahead of the industry with top notch information and emerging trends whose impacts may be just as great here as they have been abroad.

So every few hours, I get an email from one of my many blog subscriptions and as much as the inflow of emails has been overwhelming, its has been quite the ride and with every ingestion of knowledge, I have become increasingly confident, more assertive, and better equiped to creatively work around some set business models in this industry.

So my head has been spinning for the past few months that I have been heavily engaged in conceptualizing the business idea and putting it on paper. I am almost past that. I am dealing with the executive summary part of the Plan and my consultant is waiting to make heads and tails of. Given her professional experience and position at the Bank, she is best placed to tell me if the eagle has landed…

Today morning has been long. My mind has tested fatigue and whenever I am in this state, I head to two of my favourite places online, Upande Mwingine where Serina resides with great poetry and I also pay a visit to Kaasa where Kaasa lays it down like it is. Between marveling at Serina’s mastery of Poetry in Swahili and following what the thought provoking and interestingly insightful Kaasa, I usually feel rejuvenated  to and easily get back to business.

They have been busy for the last few weeks and have not blogged much but I hope they’ll be back soon. I also fall in that category because I have not been blogging much too. I have also been to The Way I think where Cynthia puts her mind to work. She has also been MIA because she is working on her thing since she got back to Kenya. I read her blog with the other business blogs that I have subscribed to.

I also like to read the stories featured weekly at Storymoja. They can be a quite a delight. I have been published there a few times and it is the best place for budding writers to get feedback on their writing skills and potential…

Lately, I have been shopping around for Kenyan bloggers who are as interesting as the above mentioned. I am yet to find those who will make me come back and comment to their posts and thoughts.

For now, that is all I have to say. My plans for the next month are ambiguous because each is dependent on the next and I am not sure how they will play out. I want to approach the Youth Fund, some Banks, a venture Capitalist or two, the registrar of companies, a potential client who invited me to make a presentation, and also try to meet with the  prospective Board Members of my start-up.

I am traveling to Nairobi this weekend because the Rationing might be over but more so because I will be attending the Oracle Enterprise Performance Management Summit – Kenya, which will take place on Tuesday, September 29, 2009 at The Nairobi Serena Hotel.

As Kaasa says, Sayonara.

Serina says Kwaherini

I say Bye Bye Till I blog again.

PS: If you are wondering why I did not leave the links to the Industry Blogs that I read; well, its because they will have a place at my company blog which I will launch in a while.

Tagged: Africa, Kenya, lessons ]]> http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/blogs-i-read-and-october-agenda/feed/ 4 marvintumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/the-ringera%e2%80%93mau-trade-off-controversy-vs-compromise/ http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/the-ringera%e2%80%93mau-trade-off-controversy-vs-compromise/#comments Wed, 16 Sep 2009 07:36:49 +0000 Marvin K. Tumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/?p=683 ]]>

I remember vividly an episode of Boston Public that I watched a while back where this teacher could not bring herself to compromise on a heated topic. Every time that it seemed they would reach some deal, she would say something that would throw the whole thing into disarray. At one point, the head teacher of this Boston Public  just lost it after this lady yet again refused a deal that was proposed. “Why do you always snatch controversy from the jaws of compromise?” he snapped. This lady then cowered and went ahead to compromise on the issue at hand.

But is controversy such a bad thing and compromise an exceptional quality. I think not. Today, Ringera, he of the cover-up corruption fame and toothless tiger excuse games was on the one end of a controversy and the Mau issue was on the other. If you ask me, both of these things should never be susceptible to compromise. Ringera is a stooge of the president and all his morally inept loyalists and nobody with a moral fibre in his/her body should be on the side of his illegitimate and illegal appointment. The Mau is too important an eco-system to even be a subject of debate as to whether people should evacuate or not.

Over the past few months, the Mau has been at the centre of debate that has pitted politicians against each other. The beneficiaries of Moi regime’s dishing out of forest land were vocal claiming that “our people” need to be compensated first. One need not be a prophet to see the vested interests and greed in the likes of Isaac Ruto and his other mouthy counterparts who seem lost to the power that words have especially ethnically motivated ones. On the other hand of the debate were other thieves who having been on the receiving end of corruption allegations for a while now saw this as a chance to call out their partners in crime as thieves hoping that it would lessen the corruption glare that has been with since the Angloleasing and the election debacle.

While the Mau debate was heating up with accusations and counter accusations, the president thought it best to consolidate his corrupt ways by reappointing the only person who had a stellar performance in turning a blind eye and claiming he had not teeth. The country went ballistic in shock and horror because this appointment was not only illegal; it was done in such a way that even laymen knew something was up. I watched the parliamentary proceeding that followed this appointment and I was impressed to say the least. It was a massacre against the government effort to defend the Ringera reappointment and to even stop a parliamentary committee from discussing the estranged reappointment. It was strange to watch the Justice Minister who just a few years back called for the resignation and investigation of Ringera now fervently defend him.

The cabinet was split on the issue and the few men I respect in this Government, Prof. Anyang Nyong’o and James Orengo said it best when they told off their cabinet colleagues on this issue. Strange though is the fact that the person who moved the motion to discuss this thing is the same Isaac Ruto who thinks that maize and wheat are worthy replacements of trees in the Mau. But all the same, the government lost, the motion passed and the committee on legal affairs discussed the Ringera affair whose report was to be tabled and debated in parliament today, Tuesday 15, 2009. From reading the mood of the members of this committee, it was clear even before the report was tabled what the verdict would be. The majority of the country (save for the PM was has avoided this issue like a plague (letting those with guts like Orengo take it on), the VP who is a b*tch eagerly singing the tunes of the master like he sang for Moi for so many years, and a few other characters who have something to hide and Ringera is the safety deposit box) has been apprehensive about this appointment.

Foreseeing an overhaul of the president’s illegal appointment of Ringera, the subjects of controversy became points of compromise. A meeting by the side of the coalition supporting the Ringera reappointment resolved to scratch the backs of those MPs who can retire on the billions of shillings they hope to illegally garner from the compensation package of the Mau evictees. In return, they will turn a blind eye and see no evil in the Ringera reappointment. It would therefore be a win-win situation for both parties when it comes to the voting on the Mau and Ringera reports. But not quite, today, there was only enough time to ensure one win. God! It was so embarrassing seeing the very MP who just weeks, days, ago wanted everybody out of the forest or in the least only the legitimate cases compensated suddenly “strongly” believe that anybody with a title deed, legality aside, should be adequately compensated. So the motion was amended to that effect and it passed. So the thieves of the Moi regime get to steal one more time but only because by doing that, they will allow the thieves of Kibaki’s regime to not only cover their tracks on past robberies but to in future steal knowing that it is their wolf that is guarding the chickens.

Michuki, the man who brought sense to our roads; the man who gave the order of shoot to kill Mungiki’s whenever they went on their murderous campaigns; the man who raided the Standard building  and had no apologies to make; the man who in now in charge of the environment was a frustrated man today. I must say that I disagree with most of what he has done over the years. The raid on the Standard was just callous and so was his attitude when the police took the shoot to kill order too far until it reached a point where it was difficult to differentiate between the Mungiki and the police. But even so, that is a man I would vote for if he ran for president, even at his age. The reason is simple. Whenever the man makes a decision, he stands by it and will not shy away from engaging you when you put him to task. You got to give it to a man who is willing to stand up and fight and today he did not disappoint when he let parliament feel the hit.

“We have sunk too low. If the Ringera issue is more important than the Mau issue where people have to trade, I must confess that I am ashamed to be in this Bunge,” said Michuki in a fit of rage after those from his camp suddenly switched sides to support what they had all along opposed until this morning when it was politically convenient to support it. I guess Michuki finally felt the pain of being played. Sweet words had been whispered into his ear, people fought for his cause, shouted on his behalf, and even when he asked whether his ass was fat, he was told no and he was happy. But today morning, someone better packaged than he moved in next door and suddenly he was relegated to yesterday’s cause, a lost fight. He got dumped in front of parliament and he was bitter. How dare they? He confessed that he was ashamed of Bunge in the way so many of us have been for so long. I guess he just realized even his colleagues, one of whom is my MP, were shouting about the Mau only because it was the right side of the argument; it was politically convenient because it resonated with the pubic; but then a major piece in the chess board moved and the leverage moved with it. It was a checkmate to him and he never saw it coming and hence the reason he was so angry.

So tomorrow is another day and we are all waiting to see whether the compromise holds? I am especially curious to hear what the mouthy Isaac Ruto who moved the Ringera motion will now say. I want to hear him justify why Ringera is the person for the job now that his efforts to get compensated for the illegal allocation of land he was given is almost won. Because in the same way that those calling upon the Mau eviction never really cared about the Mau or the environment, he and his friends in the Mau axis probably feel shit about Ringera or corruption. It was just another piece in the chess board that he played to inflict pain on the other side.

So now I am taken back to the issue of controversy versus compromise. There are things that are too important to compromise and the Mau and Corruption and this coalition government are the perfect examples. There should be basic minimums in what can be compromised beneath which we should snatch the controversies from the jaws of compromise. We all have those principles that we can never compromise and I am curious what yours are?

As I wrote earlier, I am going out on my own, running a start-up. I got the idea from an acquaintance who I was working with on an Amnesty International campaign. I thought the idea to be interesting and decided to do a bit of research on it just to check what the margins were so that I could either take it up as a worthwhile investment or discard the idea altogether.

So there I was, researching, asking friends questions, and trying to get a feel of how this could work here in Kenya. I wrote my acquaintance who runs a similar business but in London, and asked him all those questions that I needed answering if I was to be utterly convinced that this is indeed was the entrepreneurial break that I have always known would happen to me sooner or later.

He answered some questions but the rest I had to find out myself. I googled so many questions and when the answers started becoming similar, I changed how I framed the questions and got more unique answers. I talked to my immediate former boss who is running a different company now and he told me to run with idea, write a concept paper and then get back to him. He was hoping that this would be a venture whose spin-off would benefit him too. I will be seeing him later on before and after I get this thing on its feet.

But till that time, this was just a concept, a theory, a candle in the dark that could easily be blown off by anything and anyone. I remembered a friend in AIESEC who once told me that “if it is not on paper, it does not exist.” I decided to put this idea on paper. This was the time that the laptop that I had been using to that point went MIA. I now had no place to type on and I urgently needed to type this thing before I lost momentum.

Buying another laptop was of course on the table but there were now more complications. Previously, I used my laptop to write blog posts, play around with ideas, write articles for submissions to various publications, and to hold my CV just in case any job opportunities came up. But now it was different. I was starting a company and any costs that I incurred in this process needed to be expensed properly. I decided to hold off the idea of buying a new laptop too because strategically I thought it would play into my getting the first client for my new company.

So there I was, needing to type but wondering how to do it. But as cumbersome as it would be, I decided to use my brother’s computer. It would mean me traveling and staying in Nairobi for this duration, but it was all good because I have been planning to come up here for a while now. This only expedited my travel here. Sure I would lose out on the flexibility that I had with the laptop but it was good because there were other aspects of the whole thing that would out well. It works like the time value of money concept, or the opportunity cost theory. Over the years, I have continuously learnt to do more with less such that when I find get the capacity I needed to begin with, I could do even more.

Before leaving for Nairobi, I had started writing things down. But I was not getting anywhere. I got as far as my name and contacts. I had so much to write but could not find a way to structure it. This was really frustrating. I was eager to do something but lacked that initial touch that I could momentum on. But then I remembered something, an entrepreneurial kit that I had acquired while in campus. I was very active in AIESEC and through it had a lot of experience with the corporate world. Later as the Vice President in charge of Corporate Development in our chapter, I gained intricate knowledge and exposure, and networks that are serving me well now. But better still, I was sent this entrepreneurs kit that I had no use of then but which I thought to be important enough to bind and print.

Back then, I had this beautifully crafted entrepreneurial kit but no idea. Then I got the idea suddenly this kit became the most important thing in the world to me. I had already read it then from the first page to the last several times but now, I read it page by page while filling in the various aspects of the business concept that I have. It was precious. It had provided me with the structure of the whole business plan. But with further reading, I realized that I needed to do more research to address some of the questions that it asked and which my hitherto research had no answers for. That ensured that I had not left any angle of the business concept remain vague or ambiguous. I am now almost through with the plan and the tentative logo’s have been designed by my younger bro. There are changes that I need made but that will come later.

I am usually a very meticulous person when it comes to details. The good this is that I know what to overlook. But what I do not overlook, I break down and analyze its smallest elements so as to understand the building blocks. I have done that with this plan and I am continuing with the process as I write this.

But will the bird fly? Will the plane take off? Will this baby of mine get off the ground and on its feet? That is the question that is haunting me. We are never a hundred percent sure and doubts always find a way of paralyzing whatever they touch. But a sense of skepticism is always good. I am convinced that there are various avenues through which this plan of mine will take off but that may not be the case for the next person. They may have questions that will shake all my assumptions and I need to hear such sentiments before I go further. I need to know hear the hard questions I need to answer so that I can preempt operational problems when I eventually launch my company. And if the questions raised break the legs of my assumptions, I may have to shelve the plan for now at least, but from what I now know that is very unlikely.

But who do I talk to? Who to ask?  I know that the kind of work I have done on this plan will make it very easy for someone to steal the whole thing especially if they have the money. I do not have the money and will be hitting the banks with this plan seeking a loan. Alternatively, I may commence with what I have and build it from there. Another tenet I have which I got from my years in AIESEC is “start small, grow slowly.” So here I am, torn between hitting the banks and getting a huge sum of cash to start on a wide scale or starting with what I have and building the foundations of the business slowly.

But even before I decide on that aspect of the roll out, I am still wondering which people are safe to approach for analysis and critique of this plan because such critique can only make this plan better. I have two in mind but I need at least two more, all from different professions. I am this careful because I am listening to Kaasa on this. She told me to keep the whole thing under wraps until I launch. I am not through with the plan yet but what remains to be done is not as complicated as what I have already covered.

I must admit; I am diving into the unknown and I am scared but also very excited. Wish me luck and include me in your prayers. I will be employing a lot of young talent if my growth projections go according to plan.

Tagged: Africa, Kenya, Leadership, lessons, Youth Agenda ]]> http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/13/diving-into-the-unknown/feed/ 5 marvintumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/04/thank-you-for-the-refferals/ http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/2009/09/04/thank-you-for-the-refferals/#comments Fri, 04 Sep 2009 11:57:51 +0000 Marvin K. Tumbo http://marvintumbo.wordpress.com/?p=675 ]]>

Hi Good People.

Today I have been blank. I have been actively looking for something to Blog about but I am running on empty.

So I decided to look up some the stats and I was surprised to find the following to be the top referrers to my blog. Interesting stats.

Thank you all for driving some traffic to my blog. There was a time when this was a lonely blog. Although I now know how to effectively drive traffic to this site and will be doing that with my upcoming business, I appreciate each and everyone of you who put me in your blogrolls, or gave a link in your posts, or even mentioned to a friend that there is some crazy guys who is STILL proud to be Kenyan and even blogs about it.

Special THANKS to Kaasa, Cynthia and Dada Serina. As you can see, you gracious ladies brought quite some action here.

Thanks to all who appear on this list but since it is a summary, thank you goes to all those who do not appear on this list too.

Since all these stats do not add up to the modest 9000+ visits here, there are those who somehow found their way here and engaged me in one way or the other. I appreciate that. Even the insults. I am being modest because there are a few that I told off and invited to leave never to come back again . It is all part of the experience, isn’t it? A learning curve.

I will be opening a new blog soon but business related. I have not decided whether I will keep this one or what. But that will come when it does. But until it does, I will be looking to all of you to grant me the chance to use your blogs as a platform to drive traffic to my new business site and then food to my table. That is also yet to come. Just a heads up.

So here goes…