Seasons’ greetings to all my readers, thank you for your participation in this exchange. I will keep treasuring it, my wonky thoughts for your entertainment.

Speaking of… has anyone noticed the latest “invasion” of the local entertainment industry? They are all over the airwaves (I think). The links to their YouTube videos have been sambazwad all over WhatsApp and whatever other fashionable social medium is currently popular (it happened to me, once).

They are the new scintillating divas of Kenyan rap. They are gorgeous and talented. Their tunes are almost- slightly as catchy as Gangnam Style. I’m sure most have heard of them and their music. They are: Muthoni the Drummer Queen, Njeri, Wangeci and not forgetting the pioneer, STL. They all have one thing in



common, a glaring ubiquity that has me merrily wanting to dive onto the bandwagon. They are all Kikuyu.

I share that with them. And thus I have decided to try my hand at rapping. Like Muthoni I am feeling it and unlike Njeri I don’t have Nduta as an inspiration. So forgive me if I give you cardiac arrest unlike Wangeci but as STL would say ndi mbere ta muhuko wa shati ya khakhi. (Niko mbele kama mfuko wa shati ya khakhi.)

Without further ado, I announce myself: Wangui the Pedestrian. Here is a sample of my rap song song-script:

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Yeah, that didn’t go well.

It does have me thinking though, about goals, dreams and ambitions. New Year’s comes with those a lot, like ants with spilled honey. These aforementioned artistes along with strugglers, hustlers and go-getters have very admirable qualities that should be paid heed. They got off their couches and worked. Sometime in their probably charmed lives, effort and opportunity got engaged and fortune gave its blessing. Now some of them are household names or disgustingly successful- or on their way there.

I, on the other hand, am not there yet. And I am not referring to my dismal attempt at hippety hop. I am struggling as much as the next girl and things aren’t 100% yet. Heck, they may as well be classified un-gradable. My circumstances aren’t dire. They’re just frustratingly slow.

This past year, for me, may as well have been just an extension of 2014. It was so stagnant that if it was a pond it would have led to an invincible mutant species of mosquito. And since so many people know I hope to make it big someday, I have no choice but to keep pushing. I have to keep working. I have to break down doors and break into windows. Life didn’t open doors for me. I don’t even know where the house is. But that doesn’t stop me. I have to work my fingers to the bone. I have to sweat blood. Bedtime should only come after a milestone has been covered even for the simplest goal.

Failure isn’t an option. Complacency is unheard of. Why? This isn’t about fulfilment. I am not being profound. Here’s what: how embarrassing would it be if years from now I’m still yapping on about “I hope” and “I wish”?

Nairobi applies so much pressure nowadays. Ambition and achievement is a social currency. Looks don’t cut it anymore. Triumph is about saving face, maintaining pride and nursing the ego. Dreams aren’t going to come true just because I woke up and went to work and then worked hard. They’ll have to come true because my sanity depends on it. My vanity feeds off on it.

Many will not admit it but this is true. How much of a tool would Richard Branson have appeared when he quit school to start Virgin and then it came to nothing? Supposing J.K. Rowling decided to ditch Harry Potter after the first publication rejection, she’d have probably died of shame. We all have to keep going just to be able to face the woman in the mirror. She can be ridiculously unforgiving when you set out to do something and then you just give up. You can’t deny this. It would be as pointless as supressing a fart. Clench those cheeks all you want but it will eventually seep out.

If you’re a dreamer, and have some known goals, you’ll have to make it or make it. Considering any other option is just mortifying. That said: I should probably go work on my rap song song-script.



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