What would happen to you or what would you do if you were arrested and convicted for being in possession of plastic bags?
So, in Kenya, if you’re arrested for this crime, and somehow you cannot oil the ever dry hands of your captors and you’re taken to court, you should be ready to part with Ksh. 4Million or spend the next four years in prison. (This is actually the toughest law in the world). Simple options, right?
The upside of the latter option is when you come back from serving your term, the economy will have recovered, your hot ex-girlfriend as well as all the current Bluetick squad will be full of baby fat, having sleepless nights because of little human sirens and married to pot-bellied ninjas. You, my friend, the prisoner, will be as fit and as healthy as Shadrack Meshack and Abednego who used to eat bananas only. (Am I the only one who feels like those names have to be in that order or else you’re not talking about the biblical ninjas? Uhuruto, RutoUhu kinda thing?)
I thought to myself: If I was convicted for that crime I would go to prison. One, I cannot afford the Ksh. 4M. You wonder what someone with that amount would be doing with a plastic bag. Two, in the extreme unlikelihood that karma sent some good Samaritan, kind generous and dumb enough to bail me out (like that mamaa who won a Jackpot of Ksh 20M), I would still go to prison. I imagine that translates to an annual income of Ksh 1M. Mind you my meals, accommodation and tattered clothes are taken care of! I would choose prison. After I get the money, I would tithe, give my Mom 1M, then invest the other amount in…another public likes, maybe? I don’t know for now.
‘What would I do in prison? ’
I would be a motivational speaker. That way I will have my own cubicle. Like the corrupt government officials who miraculously land in prison and they even have newspapers to read. And a special diet. Maybe I will be fat after all.
Talking of motivation, ever heard of these statements:
‘If you can dream it, you can be it.’
‘You have hidden potential that needs to be tapped.’
‘You are special. You are unique’
And my most favorite from high school: ‘Inspire before you expire’.
If you’ve never heard these crappy statements (more so in your high school years), then you, my friend are worse and dumber than the mysterious eye witness. You either live under a rock or you were blessed to go to schools that have brunch on their menu. If you went to a school like Machakos School (no, I did not attend Maua Boys High School. It is actually non-existent), you did not need a menu. With a school motto that was in Kao, menu i chau? And maybe these motivational speakers knew it. They exploited us. They’d come wearing those fitting suits and say some really cool, catchy phrases that sounded like they could be the 11th Commandment.
Thou shall Inspire before thee Expire!
What if Moses just decided to keep that commandment to himself? You never know.
In retrospect though, that was load of crap they used to feed us. Just because our menu didn’t have brunch. Our mental, virtual menu. We didn’t need a physical menu. Everything we ate was either white or brown. Our beans and veggies were brown too. (Go argue with a rock if you think you know colours better than I do. Either way the Rock wins *wink*)
Back to motivation.
After every motivational session, we would go about our duties with a sense of direction and determination- well, except for the super wise ninjas who would sleep through the damn session. In hindsight again, I envy them.
That night during preps we would make timetables. Some big, hairy, muscular SMART goals would be crafted. The strongest of us stuck with the plan for three days. Others like John Wakere and Martin Ndegwa forgot about the whole motivation shit once they got at the canteen to get some avocados because, well, we didn’t have brunch in our menu. Those who remembered most of that motivation shit were the guidance and counseling teachers and some prefects who I hope today are motivational speakers or else they might as well be hit on the head with a golf club and be left bleeding in the moonlight.
There is a time we were advised that to get straight As we were supposed to do one thing: Ask 5 questions every lesson. More questions than a toddler would ask you. Again, considering these questions could not be personal, it meant asking 5 questions related to content covered in 30 minutes. I think that meant you didn’t understand a thing. You might as well ask the teacher why he came to class and now you’d have four more questions to go.
We also had a Physics teacher, Mr. ‘Gichu’ in whose class you never spoke. He won’t ask you shit and its only manly you hold your end of the bargain and not disrupt the natural order of things. Again, even if you wanted to, I don’t know what you’d ask him. I would say he spoke Greek but the greatest physicists were Greek. Once he started writing on the board, he’d only turn to leave. A great man indeed. How they connected with one Ken Muendo, I will never understand. The latter is a complete ass who never even got motivated.
Thankfully, I never got to pay for these talks. My Mom did. Now, one thing I know for sure is motivation is garbage. I hate motivation more than I hate my landlord- and I hate this guy with all my rent- You get pumped up and it goes away as soon as the speaker leaves. And they always leave with a quote: Motivation is like a shower (or some other dumber stuff). You need it every day. Meaning, call me later.
Until you find a reason to do something and have the discipline to get through the mundane, boring parts of it and still do it, keep waiting for motivation.
If I go to prison due to being in possession of a plastic bag, I will be a motivational speaker. I will inspire these people to break out before they expire.
Have a fruitful Friday. Be motivated. Or not.
If you got to the end, let me know you are motivated in the comments.