I was attempting a well thought out post- for once- when power went out. I am hanging on now with ten minutes on the UPS, so I am going back to basics. Telling an off the cuff me story.Yet one more of my random thoughts. I am just moving my hands over this keyboard. Fingering it and getting the thrill of words forming on the rapidly fading screen. I am no technophiliac. It is not the beauty of word processors that is getting me all wet. It is the words. I love words. The are beautiful. They allow me pretend to be smart.When I have nothing to say I can always trust a big word to make me sound knowledgable. Let us see how this post pans out.....uhm..
Have I said I am a pseudo- intellectual. Well, I say it again. I quote books, writers, and sages I have never read. I never read Fanon, for instance, though I wish I could. Don't tell that to others though, it will ruin my authority as a bar room conversationalist. Imagine, me walking into a bar and these yuppie guys are debating race relations or something; and potash goes:
"I have no wish to be the victim of the Fraud of a black world.My life should not be devoted to drawing up the balance sheet of Negro values.There is no white world, there is no white ethic, any more than there is a white intelligence.There are in every part of the world men who search.I am not a prisoner of history. I should not seek there for the meaning of my destiny.I should constantly remind myself that the real leap consists in introduction invention into existence.In the world through which I travel, I am endlessly creating myself."
(Frantz Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks, 1952)
That will intrigue them. The yuppies will lose themselves in mental acrobatics trying to decipher the meaning of the quote. They will keep the drinks coming as they seek my insight. Insight that I absolutely don't have because I just picked the quote from some website, and have no way of putting it in context as I have never seen the preceeding text. But I have to afford my next beer, now don't I?
And affording it doesn't necessarily mean buying it myself. It is a sorry life that I live. And it ain't easy, every day trying to put beer on the table. Feeding off these streets that never pay no more. Sometimes I yearn for the good old Nyayo days. When they looted state coffers and pumped the money into the streets. I mean the president bought my moms banana's at Kinungi. Two bananas for a freshly printed five hundred bill. The bill was so fresh the President hadn't even signed it. But he was a sport, he took out another big fiver and bought a black Bic from Kamanu who just happened to be selling Bics that day. (Well the chief had asked all the hoodlums to try and look respectable on that day) The president, without missing a stride signed the bills with the black Bic.
How is that for road side Legal Tender. Beats an official State House press release on billions recovered. Billions that you only know about because they told you they exist. But if they are siting at Central Bank- if they actually are- how do they increase the sufurias of ugali at Mutua' s Kiosk?
Now the power is fading out, the UPS is screaming...what am I even gonna call this post? What was it about anyway?