Tujuane Chic is Right and Haters Can Go Jump in Red Sea

      The Tujuane chic is absolutely right. I have said it. I am not kidding and those who don’t like her can go and lodge a complaint at the UN.  

      For those still in darkness, Tujuane is a programme on KTN that brings together people who would like to hook-up. It’s a match-making show testing the compatibility of two people in their first blind date.

    The furore- banging of tables and rage blowing in the social sites is because of one lovely Susan. Real name Mirfat Musa who ekes a living at Imagine Pictures. Her supposed victim is one ‘Eastlando’ dude – George Gitau who is a director of photography. Here are reasons why Suzzie (Emphasis for keeping it real) was right and Gitau was off the tangent.

       By the way as I write this defense for Susan, a fan page created because of her forthrightness has 9,797 likes. It’s called ‘Kenyans Against Susan - #tujuane.’ Unfortunately, I also liked it. However, back to real business. 

 

        First, George slips-up by asking his catch what to order for her. How does a dude start something like ‘Can I…?’ to girl whose body language reads: “Atawesmake {Will he manage?} I am no Chris Hart, Silas Nyanchwani or Jackson Biko but just tell the girl simply with subtle command: ‘We are having fries. It has lovely ingredients.’ At least convince the girl your choice is the right one. That’s what being in control mean. From the word go, she should be made aware you are steering the date.

      Second, Susan tests Gitau with a mild question that should have favored him but he develops cold feet. “Do I look like eating fries?” Why did Gitau not apply ‘hood’ humor to satirize that remark, huh? I would have told Suzzie: “Yea. But mostly, you look sweeter than the moon.” The point is if she intends to make you look a dumb ass because you eat fries, ridicule what she eats too. Tit for tat is a fair game.

        Third, accepting to take what the lady has suggested was how Gitau sold out. What the fuck? Because she wants let’s say Fried meat and rice then you settle for that. That’s where the dude moved from a frying pan to fire. Susan pulled a Nyeri on him. Curling his tail and agreeing to play by her rules/choices was a big disgrace to the male fraternity. You double-crossed.

        Fourth, unless this Tujuane show was choreographed I don’t know why Gitau could not have jumped on the ‘Julie Gichuru’ mention. If both guys do photography, then they are closer to the media profession. Gitau had a chance to discuss the amiable personality of Julie. Her Sunday Live programme. At least to relax and let this lady understand you are well versed on current issues. However, Gitau went there with a fixed mindset –formulaic rules- read in gutter press- Firimbi -or worse- from friends who are single. God have mercy! There is no offense in getting opinion from pals- I do most of the time- or even read those newspaper columns and relationship blogs but approaching the situation without flexibility is tantamount to silliness. Gitau dug his own grave and I will not shed a tear for his humiliation.

          Fifth, this sweater jibe is where Susan caught Gitau flat-footed. However, I must commend him for returning ‘fire’ with ‘fire’ by asking about her lightness and bright colors. Again, the guy had a chance to play the ball to his advantage. Tell her sharp people wear red-stripped sweaters especially in the evening. Research says so. She will not question because truth be told, Susan was daft from the onset.

        Sixth, I am diva declaration showed clearly that Gitau is a wimp. A baby sitter. “Oh, so you are a diva, you must be into opera music very much ama?” You continue:“Though I listen to Luciano Pavarotti- that Italian guy. Bad he passed on. I miss him a little.” Then you pose bravely: “You know him.” She says no. “But you are into divas; I also thought you would know Pavarotti. So famous.” Susan would have been put into her corner. But Gitau let the girl scare his mind with her ‘Diva’ stance. Divas informally are idiotic girls obsessed with their materialistic lives- into Nicki Minaj a lot- overwhelm the rest of humanity with their photos on social networks how they have perfect lives- love fencing… nada nada nada.

        Seventh, when Susan asked Gitau: “Are you shy?” I knew the dude’s goose had been skinned, boiled, cooked and finally served. If a lady can read through me to that extent then I scatter. All along, she was the one in charge of the date. Gitau had asked for a lift in the blind date.

        A dude stands a ‘live interview’ of his own errors from a girl who knows what she wants then we condemn the girl? Are we all finally heading to Mathari Mental Hospital? Gitau deserved what he got. Susan knew what she wanted, Gitau was clueless. Soiling the name of ‘hustlers’ for no apparent reason.

        My vote for Mirfat ‘Susan’ Musa. I am going to unlike now!

           

             

A few reflections on a wedding I attended.

On Saturday my cousin Pablo wedded his fiancée in a colorful church event that attracted relations from both sides of the family. These reflections are worth sharing. I just think so.

1.      Women and weddings are inseparable. And they attach so much to weddings you would think it’s a free ticket to heaven. Women thronged the church. I don’t know whether using ladies would be appropriate but the bottom line is: they constituted the majority. They turned up in their stilettos complimented with short skirts and make up. They whispered at times or engaged in small talk while zooming their eyes around.

2.      Hunger. Eat well in the morning before boarding the next bus taking people to the wedding venue. House of God turned to a house of hunger as the congregation started walking out in silent protest. Not a nap or a newspaper would cast away the hunger. We were practically being starved.

3.      Eating time. If you are a family member you eat last. It also means you may miss ‘pilau na soda’ and raise no complains. After that hunger session in church then you miss food, tell me, frankly, how do you feel? Gate-crushers constituted a quarter of the guests and served first much to the chagrin of folk from ushago (Village).

4.      Talking of gate-crushers, I thought this habit died with KANU plunder in 2002. Growing up in Central province, we looked forward to Saturdays to be served  free meals from weddings. Even at my cousin’s wedding, kids my age during those years stole the show and ate more than invited guests. True.

5.      Oh, I forget. What an ugly jealousy that crept on the faces of ladies during ‘I do moment.’ I watched the ladies around keenly and that monster chocked hard on them. Their powdered faces twitched with ‘I wish it never happened.’ Or, ‘I wish it was me.’

P.S: Interestingly, I remained ‘strangled’ in my suit for the rest of the day. 
       Startlingly unforeseen, death also stole an Uncle away in Kisumu.

Movie Review: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

          Exactly eight years ago, one of America’s ‘mad’ journalists took a shotgun and blew up his head. Born Hunter Stockton Thompson, he is a man who lived by the gun and died by it. Not in the metaphorical sense of bursting into banks and robbing clients and killing them in the spree. No. He was not a felon in that literal sense but his mannerisms befitted that of a naughty social deviant beyond reproach. Not from his editors or even colleagues. He was, in fact, what Italians call menefreghista. One who does not give a fuck.

            Thompson’s addiction for shooting guns and weaponry collection magnified his cantankerous demeanor in the field of New Journalism that he became a part of. Christened ‘The Gang That Wouldn’t Write Straight’ alongside illustrious literary journalists such as Truman Capote of ‘In Cold Blood’ and Tom Wolfe among others, Thompson was rogue from the word go.  He is credited for starting Gonzo Journalism after writing piece called ‘The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved.’

             Gonzo Journalism normally lacks objectivity and is characteristic of expletives, exaggeration – and for a man like Thompson- with his entire time spent smoking and inhaling all manner of drugs known to man- first person narration ensured he indulged himself into his stories until they nearly sounded true. 

            Movie. 

            Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The name partly reveals what Hunter Thompson met in Las Vegas. And with the saying ‘What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas’, it is easier said than done. Thompson went ahead and wrote about ‘what happened’ in Vegas and the movie is based on his book by the same title.

                                                On the left is Dr. Gonzo and Raoul Duke.

            The movie stars Johnny Depp as Raoul Duke suspected to be an author surrogate for Thompson and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo who are seen speeding along the Highway of Nevada desert high as the sky. Duke has an assignment to write a story about the Mint 400 motorcycle race in Las Vegas and it’s a race against time. All this while, he is intoxicated with mescaline and his altered mind, therefore, makes him see a swarm of bats eager to obstruct his view as he drives. 

            The trunk of their red Cadillac Convertible shows cache of different drugs meant to sustain them. Mescaline, cocaine, amphetamines and ‘a whole galaxy of…downers, screamers, laughers…. (Plus) two dozen amyls’ as narrated by Johnny Depp on the background. The ground is set for a high octane moment of two drugged beings – one tasked with writing a story for a magazine.

            When Duke and Dr. Gonzo arrive at a hotel bracing for the following day’s motorcycle event, hallucinations take better of him and he now sees fellow patrons as some reptiles. Cringe! The day finally comes and Duke stands by the terraces to watch as the motorcyclists are flagged off for the race. It eventually turns dusty with the narrator doubting any conventional coverage of the event. Later, Duke’s photographer - Lacerda calls him to a vehicle from the where the latter can observe the race and take pictures. Assuming they are in a warzone (Blame it on drugs), Duke relieves Lacerda of his duties and jumps off the vehicle to chart his next course of action. 

            Deranged by a turbulent personality, Duke returns to the hotel and together with his partner in drugs; consume more mescaline and diethyl ether to maintain their stupor before heading to a casino. At the casino things do not turn out well because Dr. Gonzo becomes bored and they return to their room. Here Gonzo consumes a full sheet of LSD and throws himself in a bathtub mumbling and grumbling.

            At one point, an introspective Duke remarks through the voice of the narrator: “One of things you learn after years of dealing with drug people is that you can turn you back on a person but never turn your back on a drug.” He departs his friend, Dr. Gonzo from the room with an excuse that he is headed to the car wash.  Another haunting voice interrogates him: “What is the meaning of this trip.” He wonders if it is all about drugs frenzy or covering a story. 

            Duke admits later. “Clearly I was a victim of the drug explosion. A natural street freak.” After inhaling and sniffing other drugs and even blacking out and ‘resurrecting’, he is seen hunched by his typewriter typing. Trying to makes sense out of the catatonic chaos. 

            He later escorts his friend Dr. Gonzo to the airport this time promising him if he falls into trouble, there is always a telegram. Duke races back to the hotel to finish his story. If no drugs comes his way that is.

            Shot in 1998, this movie running for almost two hours is a daring sprint on the edges of a cracked cliff of drug binge by one of America’s most celebrated rogue journalist who emulated Ernest Hemingway to the core. February being a month of love, Hunter S. Thompson is the genius junkie to proffer a flower. That is by getting ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ and watching it raw.