Monthly Archives: November 2011

Me? A NIGGA!? 28th November 2011


 

Yeah, you heard me. This brown dude gon call me a nigga, what do I look like to you, American?! *BITCHSLAP

We are at a party, it was dark, really dark. And there was a projection of a clock on the wall. UBER COOL! There was so much smoke in the air, steam (from sweaty bodies) cigarette smoke (cause all Pakistanis smoke) and smoke from a veerrrrry suspect pipe that this guy kept offering me.

THEN

Someone in the dark called me a nigga, aw hell naw. *FINGERSNAP, BOOTYCLAP

2 YEARS BEFORE – 2009

I know 3 African Americans. I also know Riley and Huey Freeman.  This is my history with them.

 African American 1: I was at a party, and at some point, I denied the existence of anything like African American. I told her, ‘you are black American, not African American, there is no such thing as African American…’  *CRINGE I should have added, but that behind of yours is definitely from Uganda nyabo, you are just my size. (It works in Kampala)

African American 2: he never uses the N-word. He told me he doesn’t appreciate it when people use it either, whether they are black, white or Michael Jackson’s white wife’s kid.

Huey Freeman: Huey Freeman personifies African American 2. WORD

Riley Freeman: Riley Freeman is a NIGGA

PRESENT DAY: 2011

After the initial shock of being called a nigga, my homie went on to tell me, ‘yo, am a rapper my man. I grew up in Californiaayyay, I love rap music. Im just glad to see you man, cause back in Californiaayyay I knew a lot of niggas that was my friends dawg.’

Another time, some teen (many teens here are dumber than usual) on the road in baggy clothes said to me, ‘yo wasup holmie’. *FACEPALM

I am not American. I do not identify with the word nigga, I do not immediately identify with the African American racial struggles. I’m Kenyan, I am THE African. I am ORIGINAL BLACK.

These kids aren’t being racist at all; their perception of a black person is HEAVILY influenced by modern rap and hiphop. Considering Africa has 54 countries and 1 billion people, it’s sad that we are defined by 10 niggas ( Lil Wayne, Rick Ross, and the guys in their videos)

To be honest though, I don’t have an identity as a Kenyan (drop that Tusker, it doesn’t count). I used to wear an earring, in fact ICE (before I did an MJ and started wearing a loop). I don’t speak enough Kikuyu to be proud of. We don’t have a national dress (that ugly kitambaa we tried to come up with was a FAIL); saris don’t count and the outfits our mums wear are West African or Ugandan adaptations. If you want to see globalization, go to Kenya. Kaa chini weh maasai. (Anyway at least we have them and some scattered peoples up North who I – and probably you – forget about)

All I wanted to say that I am not a nigga, and I do not endorse the word; though once in a while I will listen to Rick Ross talking about eating chicken. SMH, now that’s a nigga.

DEFINITION OF A NIGGA: Blog Ping

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10 Seconds – 25th November 2011


Turi turururu ru ru, x 2 (TPF Soundtrack)

Once upon a time, someone asked me to go on a TV show audition. They said it was a male and female host anchored show, and they wanted me to come with a girl that I felt. So I picked a good friend and we went.

Auditions were a laugh, other than the fact that we waited for almost 3 hours, we were auditioned for 10 minutes each or less. I have no idea what I said on my take, but I do remember laughing my ass off in camera.

I also remember a girl with really nice legs and big panties. She had a pink skirt on and you could see the panty line. There was also a guy with dreads, duh, and a couple of other people that I don’t remember.  My partner had a good laugh about the girl’s panty line. It looked like the panty line huggies would make.

A few weeks later, I got called, apparently I got the part. LOL. I mean, there are some things you do for fun but don’t really expect anything to come out from them. My pal however didn’t get the part, 😀 and she sent me a ‘Congratulations on your new job’ card. Hahaha! (Remember?)

So they still hadn’t found a female host, and it boiled down to 2 contestants  ( 2 points for heavy use of TPF language.) I had to do a couple of shots (camera, not tequila) with both of them. One was chubby but nice, though she did have a weird smell. She physically assaulted me, day in day out.. she was one of those girls that beat you when they are excited, and I mean literally beat you down, battery redefined. The other girl turned out to be the panty girl, she was actually quite fine. A diva, she would walk in late for our shots and flirt to try get away with it. She did get away with it, AND the part…though to be honest she was better.

Anyway,  fast forward to the bit where we were to do a piece on the then recently launched G-Pange movement. Mr.Vegas was in Nairobi for the launch and our office was close to his hotel, so we  ended up in the entourage as ‘press’.

We get to Uhuru Gardens (it was a free event, so there were like MILLIONS of people, mostly teens) and we get out of the cars and walk to the stage.

Obviously, the kids didn’t know who we were, and we were walking with him, so as far as they knew we were superstars/ band members/ producers/ make-up artists, who cares…

The aisle to the stage was only a few meters long, maybe 10seconds walk. But that 10 seconds was and is unforgettable…

For those 10 seconds, everything slows down. The screams, they fade away…10 seconds, you feel untouchable…10 seconds where you can almost identify with what it means to be a star…10 seconds to somewhat be on the other side of our obsession with stars… in only 10 seconds, I dare say I understand why some stars go crazy, literally. I can’t Imagine what multi-platinum artistes experience.

In those 10 seconds, the manic screams continue to rise, they NEVER falter, those 10 seconds see dust rise into clouds from the near-stampede you cause, in those 10 seconds you watch the bouncers and NYS (REMINDER: it was a free concert) literally holding the crowds back…in those 10 seconds, you don’t feel unsafe, you feel like the KING.

In those 10 seconds, I saw broken plastic chairs go up in the air, I saw the lines about to break, I saw sweating faces  screaming their lungs out, outstretched hands desparately, in the deepest meaning of that word, trying to touch us.

In those 10 seconds, I would be a liar if I said my walk didn’t change, that I didn’t feel above it all, that for a moment, I tasted stardom…10 seconds. This is what they must call a ‘heady experience’.

11th second, BACK TO HUMDRUM REALITY… and traffic now that we were not in anyones entourage.LOL.

Driving on the right side of Lang’ata Rd will get you to town in 7 minutes in an entourage, driving on the left side will take you 2.5 hours.

I quit the job 2 weeks later, and no, it wasn’t to produce my own show, hehe.  The station still wasn’t taking anything seriously, and I didn’t care enough to bother.

My co-host was pretty upset when I left, she never spoke to me again. The show aired a couple of times, around 6 months later with a different theme and a male co-host with dreads…crickets….It crushed and burned after maybe 8 episodes.

She moved on to doing a soap, guess it was for her, because she actually does a really good job on a show that’s grown but is still crap. She still has great legs and no panty line 😉

….Manic screams…I will never forget.

Turi turururu ru ru, x 2

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