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Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
This Stupid thing called XENOPHOBIA!!
This is the picture of an African Immigrant in South Africa being burned alive as South Africa Police watch and have a GOOD time! Look at the policeman at the centre (isn't that a smile?)
God save our continent...
Saturday, May 10, 2008
In Ritch’s World is opening its Doors to You
Some people have asked me to give them the opportunity to be contributors to this blog. Well, here is the opportunity you have been waiting for. I take this opportunity, too, to invite all other like-minded people to be my co-authors here at this blog.
What is this blog all about?
This blog is about the social, political, emotional and financial issues people in East Africa and in Kenya (in particular) are faced with each passing day.
P.S. No pornography or other such related content is, or will be, entertained in this blog. Content that aims at fuelling tribalism, racial segregation, discord and such-like social ills is not encouraged here.
Air your thoughts; “Voice” your voice for the whole world to hear through In Ritch’s World
Send me an email expressing your interest in being part of In Ritch’s World at (undaunted_2006 at yahoo dot com)
Tribalism is a State of Mind
I lost my uncle last week so I had to travel for the burial (which took place on Wednesday, 7th May). Being the first born of my uncle’s elder brother it behooved me to attend, however far I was.
My uncle lived at Ongata Rongai and he was a former production manager at Bomas of Kenya.
I arrived a day before the burial and found the burial committee praying in the main house. The leader of the prayers was a luo woman. After the prayers she encouraged the children of the deceased to know that they are not alone or should not consider themselves as out and lost; But that they had a shoulder to cry on.
It was a time charged with so much emotion. After the luo woman, there stood another luo woman and thereafter a luhya man, each saying things of utter import during that trying time for the family.
As I sat listening and thinking, I was mesmerised by the beauty of it all (the pain of losing my uncle notwithstanding!). Never before had I thought that I would ever see Kikuyus and Luos working towards a common goal, hand in hand and peacefully.
Some of these luos and luhyas worked under my uncle at Bomas. They heaped praise upon praise on my deceased uncle saying how good he’d been blah…blah…blah..
When the committee was through with its business, most people went outside. I was left in the main house talking to my cousins. In mid-conversation, a bespectacled old man (in his sixties) came to where I was and extended his stiff hand. I took it and responded to his greeting.
He sat down next to me and asked whether I was the cousin who lived in (…!…). I answered in the affirmative.
He told me that his first name was George (and a luo from Nyanza). He added that he had travelled all the way from Nyanza to attend the burial of his friend, my uncle.
He told me the far that he and my uncle had come. I was mesmerised at how fondly he described their friendship. Throughout the talk, I did not detect any trace of hypocrisy in George.
On Wednesday we travelled to Kikuyu country (a certain part of Murang’a) for the burial.
The Catechist who led the burial ceremony was a luhya. He simply amazed me when he decided to use both Kikuyu and Kiswahili in the leading of the service. His Kikuyu is so good that he could pass for a Kikuyu who was born in Luhyaland!
On the bus to Nairobi, after the burial, my mind was abuzz.
Does the “cure” to tribalism and tribal hatred lie in pulling down the stereotypes that we have of others? (The thought that screams out loud saying that this is what I think you are and nothing, whatsoever, can change me to think otherwise! )
Honestly, the present state of affairs is not the kind of environment I would like my children to grow up in. But what can I (we) do?
I am confused…
My uncle lived at Ongata Rongai and he was a former production manager at Bomas of Kenya.
I arrived a day before the burial and found the burial committee praying in the main house. The leader of the prayers was a luo woman. After the prayers she encouraged the children of the deceased to know that they are not alone or should not consider themselves as out and lost; But that they had a shoulder to cry on.
It was a time charged with so much emotion. After the luo woman, there stood another luo woman and thereafter a luhya man, each saying things of utter import during that trying time for the family.
As I sat listening and thinking, I was mesmerised by the beauty of it all (the pain of losing my uncle notwithstanding!). Never before had I thought that I would ever see Kikuyus and Luos working towards a common goal, hand in hand and peacefully.
Some of these luos and luhyas worked under my uncle at Bomas. They heaped praise upon praise on my deceased uncle saying how good he’d been blah…blah…blah..
When the committee was through with its business, most people went outside. I was left in the main house talking to my cousins. In mid-conversation, a bespectacled old man (in his sixties) came to where I was and extended his stiff hand. I took it and responded to his greeting.
He sat down next to me and asked whether I was the cousin who lived in (…!…). I answered in the affirmative.
He told me that his first name was George (and a luo from Nyanza). He added that he had travelled all the way from Nyanza to attend the burial of his friend, my uncle.
He told me the far that he and my uncle had come. I was mesmerised at how fondly he described their friendship. Throughout the talk, I did not detect any trace of hypocrisy in George.
On Wednesday we travelled to Kikuyu country (a certain part of Murang’a) for the burial.
The Catechist who led the burial ceremony was a luhya. He simply amazed me when he decided to use both Kikuyu and Kiswahili in the leading of the service. His Kikuyu is so good that he could pass for a Kikuyu who was born in Luhyaland!
On the bus to Nairobi, after the burial, my mind was abuzz.
Does the “cure” to tribalism and tribal hatred lie in pulling down the stereotypes that we have of others? (The thought that screams out loud saying that this is what I think you are and nothing, whatsoever, can change me to think otherwise! )
Honestly, the present state of affairs is not the kind of environment I would like my children to grow up in. But what can I (we) do?
I am confused…
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