….. CNN is streaming into the room about stuff we have little control over, and am diligently digging into my Ugali*.
“Wasn’t Samson’s eyes gouged out in Gaza?” Mum chips in and i re-focus. Beaming ominously,on a low resolution camera, images from Gaza…man records brother death,the running footnotes read.
mum?details? how could she know that and i don’t? my eyes widened, mind flipped open, challenged.
i must admit that…even as i dug the good book for a better preview…it was mainly fueled by skepticism. Sorry ma’…but besides my doubts, i discovered some things.
you know the story…most of you does(?) but hear, hear, hear me out on this.
Samson! Son of Manaoh, from the tribe of Dan…born of a former-barren unnamed woman…obsessed with the kisses and caresses of the enemy daughters’…i consider him a hero, a tragic hero,like say, Oedipus. Oedipus the King.
From Judges 13, this life story rolls on…and before i sink his mother further into oblivion…like her husband and the Angel of the Lord, let me quote for you a little evidence of the apparent chauvinism that overrode in these times.
(KJV) Judges 13: 3 “…And the angel of the LORD appeared unto the woman, and said unto her, Behold now, thou art barren, and bearest not: but thou shalt conceive, and bear a son.”
But Manoah, the soon-to-be dad…thinks his ‘woman‘ is insane and calls upon the Lord for another sign…
9 “And God hearkened to the voice of Manoah…”
J’dges 13: 13 “And the angel of the LORD said unto Manoah, Of all that I said unto the woman let her beware…” The angel of the Lord further sunk her into obscurity of history, she who was to give birth to the strongest man to have lived in Israel…their savior and liberator.
The other thing that amused me about Samson, a ‘liberated free soul’…was his ‘poetic inclination’.
Though we can’t calibrate it on the ‘Shakespearean scale’…he was expressive and captured his emotions precisely, giving ambiguity a wide berth. Mostly, it showed up in times of turmoil.
On his way to a town called Timnah, to betroth his first love, a woman ‘who had pleased him well’ against his parents wishes, he kills a lion (Judges 14:5)…and what better way of keeping this heroic secret (Judges 14:6), than by encrypting it in a riddle at his wedding?
“Put forth your riddle, that we may hear it!” over a bet (Judges 14:13)… the sons of Timnah, eager to hear and win, urged him on.
Here, i prefer my NIV version Bible that reads like:
“Out of the eater, something to eat;
Out of the strong, something sweet‘ (Judges 14:14)
Three days were to elaspe and with no clear answer, the sons of Timnah pushed the bride to seduce the answer from him ‘or did she bring this man to rob from us?’ You know what transpired, after she ‘vexed him to death…and thus, he burst:
If ye had not plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle. Judges 14:18 (KJV)
Brethren, there is something i think you should note here…after this bet went against him.
“…he went down to Ashkelon, and slew thirty men of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of garments unto them which expounded the riddle. ” Judges 14:19
It’s this same Ashkelon that appears in Zephaniah 2:4
Zeph. 2:4 (KJV) “For Gaza shall be forsaken,
And Ashkelon desolate;…”
the stripper of Gaza
Maybe this is where i should chip in what attracted most to this page: the stripper of Gaza. It’s true there was one…only then, they called them ‘harlots’ not ho’z…
Then went Samson to Gaza, and saw there an harlot, and went in unto her. And it was told the Gazites, saying, Samson is come hither. Judges 16:1 (KJV, def!
So there you have it, the harlot, contrary to many miss-conceptions, this teacher tells thee, was not Delilah..Delilah, was just a girl that Samson saw and loved…
“And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah.” Judges 16:4
i see yawns here and there, so let me wind up..AAAAAAAAAmen, haloooooo?(dont you dislike when preachers do this?)
So, Samson’s eyes were gouged at Gaza, i verified..
But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house. Judges 16:21
And the most foolish thing, or failure in this plot..the Philistines actually allowed his hair to grow again eventually killing them off? (Judges 16:22)
End of Sermon.
this is just another post towards making me feel better, and probably not as much justice to your expectant reading ‘glands’…can’t whet them now!
yaani, i have a lot to write and say but something won’t let me.
so, i just slump back to this position i always are, my tiny little eye watching as i re-blog this blog post i bumped onto this morning, about writing.
My blasphemies are many and varied, but never accuse me of being incurious. Not only will I squint over shoulders and through cupped hands, tweak things so I can read them better and discreetly eavesdrop, but I will also wonder where keys go, ponder where stairs and doors lead, and otherwise boggle my mind with these fanciful flights of imagination that have me gnawing at the edges of random possibility.
This is what you get when you declare yourself a writer and drink lots and lots of milky tea.
anyways, i wish you all a nice week.
it’s a beautiful life~30 seconds to mars
hmmm, with such declarations, i deserve a permanent editorial position at some Nairobian newspaper you and i know, but then, i only own a measly free blog- where i try make it juicy for y’all ama?
iko ivi yaani, today is sato and everything is dancing to the tune of a shattered-day(or shat-a-day with shat being the past participle of shit hehe).
well, i am not feeling so well but my mojo is so beyond its normal.
i want out!
out of this shell of being tired of being sick and tired!
For this reason and others, i’d so like to attribute to some feministic attribute, i visit the campus clinic. en route there, i realise that it’s my first time since 06! is that a Glory to God i hear?
my file was/is still there and i couldn’t help but shudder at the thought that they have my records. it’s not that i have a criminal or questionable past, but i dread leaving trails!
soon, i was ushered into the ‘Doc room’ where a label above the door read ‘Consultation.’
i knock once and a glum voice tells me to come in.
i find him putting down a ‘Rich Boy Poor Dad’ book as he reaches for his glasses which are resting on the desk. i wonder why he needs them – to see properly? or to look ‘Doctorly’? after all, he could read the fine print of the novel and am way bigger…
“do you have headaches…so i can prescribe an injection?” he enquires
uhm, yes, but not severe, in fact they have stopped…i said quickly as the thought of needles pricking my behind sends a ‘false healing’ through my head.
he asks a string of other questions as my eyes wander around his small lonely office with little intimation of life – never mind i had come here to have my life improved…could i survive working here?well, maybe am just too claustrophobic…
later on, after the usual dose of drugs that has been prescribed year in and out – even if its HIV thats eating at your marrow – i drag my not-so-feeling well body to the lib.
my mood was mellow-coddly (as val could say) everything is in purple, pink and a lovely orange 🙂 and whereas i dissassociate my absolute manhood from manipulation of the faintest trace of oestrogen in me…i think if i were a chick, on such a day,like this, with such a vision – i’d ovulate!
dropping my student ID at the periods…uhm, periodical section, i chuckle.
there is a quizical look on the librarian’s face but i move on to peruse the day’s papers and am going through the magazine section when i bump into Adam magazine.
how to groom yourself, blah blah and similar pictures fill the pages that i think it has an appalling gayish feel to it!
it’s so ironical to think Oh-younger Parlour (wo)manning such a mag while he so furiously writes a ‘man talk’ column!
the metrosexual man, hmmm..they call him (the man, not Pala Oyunga)
what’s up with them and make up? a man using lip balm? what the hell is fair and handsome?
what happened to the traditional man we knew before? the one that is perfectly embodied by dad?
with a natural scent, a little vaseline if any, to shake off traces of ‘mpararo?…after taking a bath on yet another scentless soap- jamaa…name them?
rough yet smooth, raw yet ripe, tough yet soft, that be me!
with a little he-motion here and there, am ready yo go…or don’t they say that its soft deep inside?
but to be swallowed by this wave of seemingly wimpy creatures(no pun, but quite intended!) :i refuse!
the kind that take ages to prepare themselves (in the bathroom- what with all make up?) kila weekendie, they are at salons, queing with ‘other’ womenfolk for a re-touch, pedicure, manicure…
honestly, i’d feel quite uncomfy spending a night with such (you know those arrangements, dont misquote)….remember Terence Howard in ‘white chicks’?
manze, you may wake up upate umembamba ule jamaa mbaya uuuuuuuuii…(after getting derailed by your dreams and some sweet musk from your bedmate.
i was about to rush over to class when i bumped into savvy’s post and i couldn’t keep this lingering any longer in the ‘drafts’ bin.
yaaaaani, this w/end there was the KRFUEA* 7 aside fixtures at Ngong’ but for more reasons than 1, my dice landed on JKUAT sports day at Juja. and yes i wasn’t as disappointed – especially towards the end…save for the moments when nothing was really happening and you wondered around the flat compound like a zombie. or is it nzembi (no pun!) he he.
by the way, this Uni, being the ultimate technology meltdown(our Massa-chew-set), wouldn’t we have seen a lil’ bit of sophistication in the organisation? i mean, at least, have participating teams….like on printed paper?
well, i aint a sportsguy, as savvy guessed (i retired from proffessional weight lifting some years back;)… rather, am giving sports reporting a try.
and its really ‘trying’ especially coz i was/am biased- i love b ball to bits.
now, on arrival, i was welcomed by a click of mogekeyo chicks, animatedly chatting away in the dialect….welcome to gashororo, i laughed at me.
Claysbar were the official sponsors and they had duly decorated the place with their banners and the hosts, refas and sundry wore ’em branded caps (campuserians and free t-shirts!).
the games kicked on a slow pace, yeah, the boring pleriminaries and USIU, Catho, KEMU, Daystar, MKU, KU, Egerton, Maseno,Strath, hosts Jkuat and some collez were there to be counted. There was T.T., Bball, Folli’ bo’, Lawn Tennis and i i saw some guys in Tae- Kwo Ndo gear.
Bball, as sure, attracted the biggest crowd but Folli’ Bo’ which i dont like as much took the mantle from it in the end. It was full of drama as ball was bobbed, smashed right into opponent faces…as dust rose amidst cheers. I dint karibia but i think i saw some Maseno guy jump 10 feet above the crowd.
As for basketball, the ‘real heat’ on the court was generated in the quarterfinals.
It was in this crowd that i bumped into a TTY (tired third year) from jkuat and we struck some rapport. He was so eager to share that soon, he was all over with talk about the rigours and tribulations of the architectural course he was pursuing (just read nzembi’s post) It made me feel like i was in holiday camp.
“ati passion? i had it when i started off but it faded soon as the real course began. all i have left are balls and courage to complete the course!”
i was agony uncle now, carefully examining my troubled nephew…and are there chicks in this course?
“mjamaa, dame akifika second year arch, wewe na yeye ni wanaume wawili!” /when a chick is in second year in architecture, you and her are two men you both feel nothing!/
tis from here that Andru (his name) ranted on the totally disastrous ratio at ‘Juja boys’ (as he called it)…and i thought it cool to pull out my ‘PIMP biz card’ (told him we got a lot of ass where i come from, enough for us and the needy!) and man, i said it as joke but dude chomoad his phone ready for a hook up!
the cheers from the court distracted our convo…JKUAT ‘alumni’ were shining ( they had two teams, the other were ‘straycats‘ who were banished to the alley, ha!). oh, and did i tell u how you’d expect a bball court to be all about babes and ball stunts? ahem! the court was in between two hostels (or halls of (male) residents) and like street bball, guys hanged over from everywhere (fire escapes..). Strath guys, like high school kids, were all over this supposedly new ride (a comely tour bus – those shuttles like Davanu tours that u usually find on the Nai- Arusha route.
the game was between USIU and the alumni. they tried, but the crowd notwithstanding, were whipped proper and the much better USIU-ians sailed to the finals. by the way, if Arse-n-all play beautiful football, methink USIU plays beautiful bball. but there was this JKUAT bballer, tall, lanky, light with shaggy hair who played real well and smart.
he was deservedly applauded.
the finals were between KEMU and USIU. by this time i was making rounds in the hostels that are so closely packed it reminded me of a book i read on those NAZI concentration camps in Austwitch!
Later, i headed to Gashororo, turned and dined several muturas (african sausage): they were delicious and BIG, on my!
i also assisted some friend who needed help with his ‘kanywaji’.
evening came on a bit too fast and i was getting cosy somewhere when Savvy hollered…it was dark and all was hazy to me and i couldn’t make out the directions of that ‘jkuat city clock’…so she breezed by on the bodaboda ride?
*the photo above was taken during the Strathmore tourney some weeks back….Campusrover..’cumming soon’ 😉 keep your eyes peeled!