Safe Driving for Dummies

Influx of Dummies on Our Roads

There is a noticeable increase of dummies on our roads today. This is not a result of any scientific research. However, I don’t think anyone has to have a certain aptitude to be able to identify a dummy. By dummy I don’t mean a mannequin of the kind used in clothing stores and made of plastic or glass fibre. Neither do I mean a cadaver found in a morgue and used for teaching human anatomy to medical students. The dummy I am talking about is a normal breathing human being of between average and above average aptitude in academics. The dummy I am referring to is also a proven specimen in a technical profession and is also possibly a good home maker judging by the happiness and contentment apparent in his or her offspring.

My concern is not what the said dummy does at home or at work. My source of worry and perplexity is in how the now confirmed dummy behaves when he or she gets behind the wheel of their second most or most valuable asset, depending on personal priorities. In Layman’s terms, I am looking at how abnormally dangerously, otherwise normal people drive.

Mobile Phones

I have noted with both concern and confusion that many motorists usually wait until they get into their cars and are on the move to make that all-important phone. Our parking lot at the office becomes a mess due to the people out to prove (without much success) that they can multitask. This is in fact one of the reasons I have come to believe that even women can’t multitask judging by the way they hold everybody up behind them as they attempt to drive and talk on the phone at the same time. It would be bearable if talking on the phone was the only disaster we were trying to deal with in this city. Unfortunately, the suicidal Nairobi motorists have graduated to scrolling, texting, and even Whatsapping as they drive. I shudder to imagine what they are going to do next (watching movies comes to mind).

Crawling on the Fast Lane

Our new super highway is the kind of stuff dreams of poor countries are made of. So much room for overtaking and extra lanes to allow for safe turning off means there is no reason for pile-ups on the road. This is however not so. I have noticed a now common feature on all our highways. I often find people crawling on the inner lane of a section where one is allowed to drive at 100 KPH. This would be bearable and maybe only slightly irritating were it not for two other goons driving alongside and at the same speed as the dummy on the inner lane. This then means that all of us have to join the procession of seemingly not so bright people in the hope that one of them will realise what is happening and get off the road.

Wrong Lanes

Still on the issue of lanes, there are some dummies who never seem to know where they are going. They approach a roundabout on the wrong lane and attempt to change at the worst possible moment when they are sure to cause a serious gridlock or some dent-inducing mishaps with other motorists. There are the same people who either don’t know or won’t care to use accelerating or decelerating lanes when joining or leaving the highway.

Digital to Analogue Migration

After investing millions (possibly billions) in state-of-the-art traffic control equipment and systems, it is difficult for me to understand why we have to have baton-wielding walkie-talkie-chattering policemen overriding those same systems. The result is depressing traffic jams resembling giant parking lots where we have to watch the traffic countdown clocks as if they were movie screens just to kill the time. The only outcome of this that I can call positive is the fact that those policemen will not become redundant any time soon. I guess that can be called job-creation albeit in a weird sort of way.

From the time the automated speed cameras were fitted on beams high above all the new roads (and a lot of the old ones too), I am estimating most of the bulbs are almost due for change judging by the frequency and intensity of the flashing. They should have been donated for use in some poor old woman’s mud-walled hut during the much-publicised Last-Mile project by the Kenya Power and Lighting Company.

P.S. When the maximum speed limit on the Trans-Africa Highway between Jomo Kenyatta International Airport and Kangemi was set to 50KPH, did somebody actually drive on the stretch to see how practical it was? Just wondering!

Blood-Thick Strongholds

A Generation of Choices

We have been taught, nay, imposed with the philosophy that the choice of anything is in our hands. We are lucky to be in the generation that can make decisions on all things that are important in our lives and even those that don’t concern us. When we are reviewing our constitution, people are sent round to collect views from the smallest person in the most unassuming village in the darkest corner of our vast nation. The same happens when there is a pending budget for the national government and county governments.

A Generation of No Choices

Having outlined the vastness of choices we have, it is ironical that there is a crucial area where we behave as we have no choice. When it comes to political affiliations, our country gets divided into strongholds where we are grouped in ethnic groupings by our beloved politicians. We all stand firmly behind our respective kingpins, ready to be traded and moved from one tribal consortium to the next. All our talk of poor governance and plundering of our resources by these same politicians are put on the back burner. We even seem to forget our history and civic lessons where powerful individuals set up entire countries and regions to fight with each other to the death in order to safeguard their ill-gotten wealth.

The Consequences of Choices

During the last elections, the US warned Kenya about the (undesirable) consequences of choices. This was in reference to the choice of two candidates who at that time had ongoing cases at the International Criminal Court. Although the US later appeared to relax on their warning (even becoming quite friendly), their warning seemed to show some level of validity judging by the disgruntlement of Kenyans on the way the Government is conducting its affairs. This is particularly so with regard to runaway corruption.

Strongholds – The Political Currency of Exchange

Blood is thicker than water. The average human being, given a choice, would stand with a kinsman as opposed to a stranger in the event of a crisis or other problem. My Layman’s mind informs me that this was an evolutionary development to help with the continued existence of the race. In this day and age however, blood relations are used for an entirely different purpose. Blood or kinship is now the basis for building a political power base. In our country we are constantly reminded of our roots and warned in no uncertain terms that our tribe comes first.

I have been following the political realignments that are taking place as they always do every five years. They bear an uncanny resemblance to the way farmers move sheep from one paddock to another. The same way a farmer sorts through his sheep and groups them in certain categories such as age, weight, and colour, is how voters are being categorised and placed in paddocks with others of similar ethnic background. In the eyes of politicians, we have the same value as sheep; humble and ready to be moved about, sold and slaughtered at will. We are worse than dogs because no farmer will sell or slaughter his dog.

 

The politically correct term for paddock on the Kenyan political scene is “Stronghold”. It sounds like a nice place to be; only that it’s not. A stronghold is a prison where a person is held against his will. Once inside the stronghold, he gives up his freedom to think or do what he feels is right. He is like the Africans when they were held in concentration camps by their colonisers. The only difference between a stronghold and a concentration camp is that the later imprisoned someone physically while the former incarcerates a person mentally. If you ask me, a stronghold is the worst form of prison.

Redefining Strongholds

I look forward to the day when we will be imprisoned by ideologies. When we shall be willing to die for what is right. When we shall form new tribes based on what we believe in and not on how the vowels are arranged in our surnames. That, my fellow Laymen, is when I will be proud to declare my tribe and defend it. For now, belonging to either this or that ethnic group is just a burden which we all have to bear as those who constantly remind us of our supposed allegiance, milk our country dry. All is not lost however. We can begin the formation of useful strongholds immediately by electing people whose consciences are still alive.

A Bloody Red Valentine

I was passing time in the lush and expansive gardens of the Mount Kenya Safari Club. It was a chilly evening and the top of the shy mountain was, as usual, hiding in a shroud of dense cloud. The visible part of the slopes had more snow than I had come to notice previously. The snow came all the way down and gradually changed into ice right up to the slab of rock on which I was standing. I was thinking to myself, “There is no such thing as global warming. This mountain has more snow and ice than it had when I looked at it from the pictures taken during colonial times.”

I was jolted back to my senses by a heavy explosion which shook the very ground on which I was standing. I staggered slightly but didn’t fall. Before I could recover my balance, another explosion took place. This time it was much closer since I could see the spray of sparks. I realised in shock that we were being bombed. I dove to the ground behind a small boulder as the third bomb hit the ground so close to me that some of the sparks caught my shirt. I woke up with a start only to realise it was a bad dream.

Tense Times

We are living with a lot of tension as a country. People are very edgy and judging from the triggers that set them off on social media, then it is safe to conclude that we on the verge of war. Politicians have been going round calling all and sundry to come out and register in large numbers so that they can either retain or win back leadership seats. Today is the last day of that exercise which will also mark the start of intensified political campaigns.

A Bloody Valentine

Valentine died for love. If anybody dies before, during, or after the forthcoming elections, it will not be for love. It will be for hatred. It will either be because somebody hates his tribe’s guts so much that he will do away with him as a statement, or that he will hate somebody else’s tribe so much that he will die fighting. All this will happen because those in power cannot imagine others taking over from them and those wanting the power cannot bear to imagine those in power remaining so for one day longer. If it was just a handful of politicians hurling insults at each other, it would be bearable. Unfortunately, this small group has mobilised entire tribes and conglomerates of tribes to stand behind them. This line-up is what marks our valentine’s day this year.

Happy Valentine’s Day

I am seated hear on my plastic chair at my plastic table fighting mosquitoes as my neighbours snore away. I am asking you. Would rather die for love or hate? As you either register to vote or abstain, are you doing either for love or hate? Does this Valentine’s Day signal for you a season of hope or a state of hopelessness? If you love your neighbour, is it because he has always stood by you or because he is from your clan? If you hate him, is it because he has been unkind to you or because your tribal kingpin says he is wrong for you. This valentine’s day, I am only wishing my sweetheart a good day. I can’t generalise because I don’t know what it means for other people.

Hi-Tech Fighting

If we fight again, it will not be with machetes. It will be hi-tech. We are going to have GPS guided Rocket Propelled Grenades like in my dream above. We then won’t need to spend cold nights planning attacks on our neighbours. We can execute everything from our smart Phones while seated at a private beach in a neighbouring country with our feet touching the water and sipping ice-cold margaritas from umbrella-clad glasses. There will also be no need for hand-to-hand combat using bloody knives. We shall use our 3-D printed guns made with some advanced composite material which can pass any metal detector in town.

Those who are too cowardly to stand the sight of blood will of course launch cruel cyber-attacks on helpless members of the opposite sex. They will stalk them online for days and hack all their social media accounts. This phase of war is already underway.

I am a Layman but one with a fertile imagination. I urge you to register as a voter and to vote. It is the only way you can help avert the scary scenario (a massive iceberg whose tip is outlined above). Have a somewhat happy valentine’s day.

Stuck in the Friend Zone

“Oh! He is just a friend”, says many a girl when asked about the nice young man she has been spending a lot of time with. This is in sharp irony with the common lamentation that there are no men to marry nowadays. These eligible bachelors are stuck in what has popularly become known as the ‘Friend Zone’. All this while, the marriageable girls are busy auctioning their dignity to the village bad boys.

Of Football Players on the Pitch and Bench; and the Cheering Squad

During a football game, there are three distinct groups of people present. The first group is of course the players. These are the ones who make people go there in the first place. Secondly there are reserve players. These are on the bench when the game starts. They may or may not play in a particular game. Whether they play or not depends on the coach. They therefore just wait anxiously in the hope that the coach will substitute one of the players on the pitch and call them in to play.

Thirdly, during a football match, there are spectators. These come to watch the game and each of them usually supports one the teams playing. Spectators are as diverse as they are many. Some may have been star footballers in their day and are there to feed their nostalgia. The majority however, are those who never played any football in their lives (unless kicking a ball made of old paper bags during break time in their primary school days could be considered football).

Bad Boy Syndrome

For some reason no one has been able to satisfactorily explain to me, and using the football analogy above, why many girls have parked their ideal mates on the bench. They have then proceeded to put serial womanisers in the field. They have ignored calls by spectators to call in the perfect players from the benches. When the match is inevitably lost, these same girls will cry their eyes out moaning how men are ungrateful brutes. They will talk about how they gave these losers every opportunity to redeem themselves and prove their worth at being in the girls’ lives. As painful as this scenario appears, it is not news anymore. Neither will it end there. You will find these bad boys playing again on some other unwitting girl’s pitch.

The Need for Excitement

The main reason given by women for being drawn to bad boys is excitement. They claim that Casanovas are fun to be with and make them laugh. These boys are said to ignore the small flaws in a girl and make her feel on top of the world. The boys are confident and are not embarrassed to do the small things that make girls go gaga such as hugging in public or walking hand-in-hand. An excitable and naive girl therefore becomes pliable clay in the hands of such a boy.

Fitting In Vs Pursuing Sensibility

It is an increasingly common script in this generation that fitting in is more important than being sensible. This mantra has led many girls to get into predatory relationships with unsuitable men just because it is more popular. They have let their heart-guard down and welcomed unlikely mates into their lives. All this while, the men who would have loved them unconditionally are wallowing on the sidelines.

No Good Men

I am saddened by the claim that there are no longer any good men. I think this is just an excuse women use to be with the wrong men. When a woman says that all men are dogs, she just wants to justify her low standards. I however feel that it is wrong to generalise either the badness or goodness of men (and also of women).

Just because you are attracted to the wrong man does not give you the right to conclude that all men are bad. “Where are all the good men then?” you might ask. Just look at the benches. They are seated there hoping you will come to your senses soon enough and call them in. They are saddened by the fact that you have already compromised your reputation but can still accommodate you as long as you turn around immediately.

Ladies, do you still believe there are no good men?