The unfortunate truth of being a public figure is that the ‘public’ shall always preface your ‘figure’. Whatever you do or don’t do will always follow what the public says or thinks you have done; and that damage is irreversible.
But under the new constitution, it is punishable by law.
Enter the Deputy Chief Justice Nancy Baraza and this whole saga at the Village Market.
The Star paints a picture of an aggravated Baraza pulling a gun on an innocent security guard who went from trying to do her job to fighting for her life.
The Nation‘s online edition tells a different story of a mother who was buying medication for her hospitalized son when a security guard insisted she be subjected to a search(even though she was already past the security checkpoint). Nancy declined, a verbal exchange ensued and the next morning police reports were lodged and 2 days later, news articles were printed.
The Standard doesn’t seem to have any thoughts on the matter. Our writer, 3CB, however, did:
This October, celebrate the biggest Halloween Party since the Dark Ages
The Village Market Halloween Fright Night Party
On Saturday 30th October, The Village Market opens its doors to all daring zombies, vampires, goblins and beautiful monsters. Featuring the darkest House of Horrors, Pandora’s Box, The Beathogs, Dashy Krew, Code Red DJs and so much more. An electrifying display of fireworks will light up the sky and wake the very dead.
See press and posters OR call 020 7122488-90 for details
Like I said in Part 1, my cab guy works small miracles for a small fee. I’m never mad to pay him; he earns every single penny. It also helps that he’s hopelessly honest and pretty damn focused. 20 something with several cars in several cities; you can’t hate on that if you tried.
So that Friday morning, he was getting his insurance papers sorted out; all those PSV stickers that make no sense to the layman. He then took his car for servicing and spared no expense ensuring his vehicle was up to standard.
The good thing about sober, focused taxi drivers is that they know exactly how to avoid trouble; it’s not by driving faster or using the backroad. It’s not by bribery or lying. It’s by doing your job and shutting up.
By 10am, he was done with ensuring his vehicle was legal and up to par and running checks on his other cars and drivers. He drove out of Adams and before he got to the roundabout, a lady flagged him down.
She didn’t say anything beyond that. So he began driving towards town. When he got to the Kenyatta avenue round-a she said “Globe Cinema”. She wasn’t chatty and had no intention of playing nice. He didn’t mind. Halfway up K-Ave, his phone rang to life. It was me. I explained my conundrum and he calmed me down and told me he’d send someone.
He calls his friend and sends him my way. Right at that time, he sees a waving black baton being flailed by a chubby officer of the law. Continue reading →
It was 10am on a Friday in a busy dusty Nairobi. The sun was shining just bright enough to provide camouflage for the bone rattling chill. And it did so expertly; the treacherous glow had however convinced the masses to underdress.
But not I, Popeye. I anticipated this deceit and layered up.
I can’t stop glancing at my watch doing mental mathematics: I was meant to have an appointment at 11am at a hotel in Gigiri and had just gotten out of one in the CBD. Unlike the wealthier lot of you, my chauffeur was not waiting for me at the door when I came out, but instead at the bus stop where I was headed. ‘If I hop on a 106 or a 107 I’d make it to that area in 20 minutes or less and be half an hour early.’ So I stroll leisurely towards the stage.
10:20am: I’m waiting for a Matatu so we can leave.