When I saw images of Abdul Hajj, I automatically knew he was not a Kenyan cop. There was something about him that told of affluence, a man who gyms in a proper facility and eats well.
Aircraft accidents are the Grim Reapers buffet. But sometimes some people just refuse to die, some of them dont just stare down death in the face and wag a finger at it, they also swim for miles or feed their infants whisky.
Do you know how difficult it is to dupe a government into buying fake things? Apparently, its not harder than convincing your two-year-old that you have stolen her nose.
On August 13, 1997, a group of about 200 raiders carrying traditional weapons and covered by foreigners wielding guns, attacked a police post, a police station, and basically anything else at the Likoni Ferry station that had a portrait of Moi in it They killed 6 officers and stole more than 40 guns. That was just on the first day.
A few weeks ago, in an online discussion about the forgotten, neglected, unnecessary history of the Mau Mau, a very good Kenyan was kind enough to correct my oversight by telling me “twitpic a photo of your PhD in History so we can believe you.”
Three intriguing cases made it before the lethargic Kenyan judiciary this week, all three representative of the hypocrisy of our moral (or immoral, if you will) culture, and our pathological tendency to yell generic arguments whenever we are faced with issues that are ‘new’.
The thin line between eccentricity and insanity is riddled with money, and power, and political office, all of which Kenyan politicians have. In fact, if you the common Wanjiku were to try some of the eccentricities here, there would be a ‘Get Wanjiku to Mathari Hospital Campaign.’