My Reading of Shakespeare’s Tragedy of Julius Caesar

My readings and lecturers of Trial Advocacy taught me that advocacy is all about persuasion. As I was reading William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, I was struck by the speeches of Brutus and Mark Antony. They came across as powerful statements, full of colour and vigour; for all I care they could have been the opening statements of two counsels telling their ‘version of the story’ to the factfinders.

May be you could read it and be the judge.

BRUTUS

Be patient till the last.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my

cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me

for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that

you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and

awake your senses, that you may the better judge.

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of

Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar

was no less than his. If then that friend demand

why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer:

--Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved

Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and

die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live

all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;

as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was

valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I

slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his

fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his

ambition. Who is here so base that would be a

bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.

Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If

any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so

vile that will not love his country? If any, speak;

for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

Enter Mark Antony. I could as well baptise him the opposing counsel. Brutus’ first impression have held sway and Mark Antony knows this. The air is charged and he also knows this better. And what does he say?

ANTONY

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest--

For Brutus is an honourable man;

So are they all, all honourable men--

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:

But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did see that on the Lupercal

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause:

What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

Mark Antony’s speech, oft quoted in the lines of ‘I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him’, has fundamental lessons. Notice the subtle appeal to decorum and respect that Brutus is given for being ‘an honourable man’. I particularly like the line about the evil that men do outliving them and the good that men do being buried with them. In that statement, Mark Antony appeals to objectivity in his speech. This is aimed at winning his audience.

He says: “I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know.” In this single line he throws the challenge to the audience to be the umpire. He ‘impeaches’ the credibility of Brutus not by attacking him personally but by showing inconsistencies. He cites three instances of when Caesar wasn’t ambitious: One, when he brought captives home to Rome; two, when the poor cried and he wept and; three, on the Lupercal when thrice he refused kingly crown. Then he seals it off with a cry (well, counsels aren’t supposed to cry) saying, “Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me.”

He continues:

But yesterday the word of Caesar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there.

And none so poor to do him reverence.

And then this:

ANTONY

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up

To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed are honourable:

What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,

That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:

I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

That love my friend; and that they know full well

That gave me public leave to speak of him:

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,

To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,

And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue

In every wound of Caesar that should move

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

There! That is Trial Advocacy for you at its best. Mark Antony has appealed to my emotions. What say's thee? Where Brutus comes across to me as a domineering personality, Antony is humble; where Brutus is all daggers-drawn, Antony is all let-us-not-shame-the-honourable-men-I-am-no-orator. 

What the New Constitution Portends for the Pokot County

The New Constitution 2010 provides for a county government which will have both:

i)                     the county assembly , and

ii)                  A county executive.

I will equate the county assembly to it being ‘the parliament’ of the county where its issues are articulated by its representatives elected in their respective wards. The county executive is more of what the president does, the powers he has and whatnot. Therefore, where the president at the national level exercises his respective powers, the county executive is a similar thing but at the county level.

This is to be expected. Whereas the county assembly will be charged with the responsibility of ‘passing its laws’, for it to be implemented there must be a body clothed in county executive. The roles of these two bodies in the county will perform complementary roles. County assembly will pass laws and check on the ‘excesses’ of the county executive. This means that if the Governor, the Deputy Governor and other members which the Governor appoints decide one day to do pull down some shops without authority then the county assembly will question this.

So, what constitutes the county assembly? It will consist of councillors, special seat to cater for the least-represented gender but not more than two-thirds of the membership of the assembly, marginalised groups including persons with disabilities and the youth and the speaker. This is in accordance to Article 177 of the Constitution. It will be worthy to note that their term will be for 5 years.

The county executive committee will consist of the county governor and the deputy county governor and members appointed by the county governor, with the approval of the assembly, from among persons who are not members of the assembly. Article 179(2) of the Constitution provides for this. Of particular interest is Article 179(3) of the Constitution. The ‘other members’ forming the county executive committee will not exceed one-third of the number of members of the county assembly if the assembly has less than thirty members. Also, these members cannot exceed ten if the assembly has thirty or more members. It appears therefore, that these members would be ten on the maximum.

I will not dwell on the eligibility criteria of these office-holders or how they could be removed from office. The constitution clearly provides for them. Rather, I will examine the functions of county executive committees. 

Article 183(1) of the Constitution provides:

A county executive committee shall—(a) implement county legislation;(b) implement, within the county, national legislation to the extent that the legislation so requires;(c) manage and coordinate the functions of the county administration and its departments; and(d) perform any other functions conferred on it by this Constitution or national legislation. 

Further, Articles 183(2) and 183(3) indicate that the county executive may prepare proposed legislation for consideration by the county assembly and provide the county assembly with full and regular reports on matters relating to the county.

These are vast powers bestowed upon the county executive committee. The task of implementation holds the greatest key to the success of the county. The county assembly might pass good laws, rant and rave all they want, but the decisive steps of the executive committee matters a great deal. The office-holders—County governor, deputy governor and ‘the members’ the county appoints with the approval of the assembly—should be persons who not only satisfy the eligibility requirements but should have a proven track record of development, the ability to grasp and implement a wide array of factors, be visionary and more of ‘doers’ and not ‘talkers’.

It saddens me, therefore, as I skim through the county debates that some of these pertinent issues are least discussed if at all. What we need to appreciate is how the county assembly and the county executive will operate. Who will run them? What statements of mission will guide them? How will they fit into the bigger picture of the national landscape? What policy considerations to be considered? How will the county resources be tapped and in what best ways? What will be the checks and balances? Objective politics and how to be achieved? Issue-driven debates as opposed to euphoria-centred cheap talks?

These are the issues. These are the sad realities.  I got this quote from J.G. Holland:

‎"GOD give us men! A time like this demands strong minds, great hearts, true faith, and ready hands; Men whom the lust of office does not kill; Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess opinions and a WILL; Men who have honour; en who will not lie; Men who can stand before e a demagogue and damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; 'Tall' Men sun-crowned, who live above the fog in public duty and private thinking."

Need I add more? Nay. I rest my case.

Conversation on justice I

Link

A: Good Professor, of my right to ask I lack, but my desire to apply to my faculties the philosophical dimensions of law I leave to your judgment. Tell me, Good Professor, what justice is, having explained it, rest my probing mind.

B: Probing minds shouldn't rest. Inquisitive minds are like the arguments of two philosophers, they shouldn’t relent. Now, you ask a baffling question and of my 30 years of looking for the answer, isn’t embarrassing that I possess no answer?

A: To that extent, Good Professor, I can surmise. The subject, as it were, produces more heat than light...

B: Careful. Not heat. Because if you speak of heat we are presupposing that it is an emotive topic, an area that can evoke public outrage. To my mind, this has been a question for professors to grapple with in the academic world. As the subject continues to occupy their minds, to a large extent, justice has been  individualised and has been defined in terms of their application in their lives.

A: Most certainly. Consequently, what would be just would be out of “positive outcome” of a decision of a fact-finder and judge and unjust if not along these lines. But is this what justice presupposes?

B: Justice is not a limited concept, fortunately or unfortunately. Justice is a fountain wherewithal the refreshing waters of eternal replenishment abound. But not without misgivings.  Thomas Jefferson ‘trembled for his country’ upon the staggering truth that ‘God is just’ and that ‘His justice cannot sleep forever’. Wasn’t it Mohandas Gandhi who said that ‘there is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience which supersedes all other courts’? We are also reminded of Martin Luther King, Jr. who observed that ‘the moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice’.

So, good friend in search of knowledge, it is good you ask that we may, in a manner of speaking, discuss some of these realities. To discuss justice is to discuss the mysteries of the universe: one never exhausted it.

Excerpts From My Nanyuki Diary

(Submitted to the Laikipia County Times)

‘You are in exhibition. You see a canvas. Somebody has poured paint all over. You hear people say, ‘I love the theme of this paint...just look at the emotions it carries...so subtle...so nuanced. And you are there wondering: What are these people talking about? What emotions?’

So, my love for poetry found me travelling to Nanyuki on 5th August this year for a poetry performance in a newly-formed poetry slam dubbed ‘Thank God It’s Friday’. The theme was on street life experience. I had settled for Child of Shame, a poem that highlighted the experiences of street children. I felt that their story hadn’t been told much and that through the medium of poetry, the challenges they braved in the streets and the vulnerability they faced needed to be spoken out.

The event was to start at 5.30 p.m. My hosts Mathew Owino and Sam Kairu treated me to the scenic beauty of Lily Pond. Matter of fact, I stood right in the middle of the equator at Lily Pond Arts Centre. I was taken through the Exhibition Hall and got an opportunity to see good paintings displayed on the walls. My mind rushed to a comment that my lecturer once made a while back about paints. She said, “So, you are in exhibition. You see a canvas. Somebody has poured paint all over. You hear people say, ‘I love the theme of this paint...just look at the emotions it carries...so subtle...so nuanced. And you are there wondering: What are these people talking about? What emotions?’ Well, I felt like to act this but I stood there, looking at the paints and admiring the talents. But seriously, I have never understood paintings, especially those abstract ones. Anyway, that is a story for another day.

Outside the gallery, I met fellow young persons, a boy and two girls. When I introduced myself they exchanged knowing looks and almost in sync said, “Oooh, child of shame?” I nodded, really amused by the turn of events. I hadn’t anticipated that my poem, “Child of Shame”, would be recited and dramatised by them.

Inside the exhibition hall, the stage was set. One performance after another by Cyrus, Mwaniki and others. Then a drama of “Child of Shame”. I had never sat before a group to watch a piece written by myself. Honestly, as the Nanyuki youths gave emotions to the piece, in fact outdoing me in the process, I felt that there was no greater accolade they could accord me other than just that. Cyrus, in my considered judgment, was a vintage performance poet of the night. Mwaniki had this thing about him with his voice that gave life to his poems. I could feel the rhythm. I could feel the pulse of his words.

The two girls (I can’t really remember their names), kept me riveted, quite literally. I mean, there were so many initials and acronyms in their poems and yet they actually said them. Oh, the joys of being a youth! The guitarist for the night, Joe, impressed me with his guitar skills especially his song on the child painter (I can’t quite remember the title of the song). Inside that exhibition hall, with inspiration of paintings dotting the walls, Nanyuki’s talent that lay buried for long came to life.

Later that night, in the company of Joe, Cyrus and Matthew Owino, I felt humbled. Joe confessed to me that the mental image he had of me was of this tall, huge Asian or an old bloke. He told me that he was surprised that I was a tall, lanky fellow. I laughed about this. You see, I love the image of me as larger-than-life only to be shattered by the appearance of an ordinary-run-of-the-mill person.

On my bed that night, I thought about Nanyuki and Lily Pond Arts Centre and poetry and scattered thoughts of my domestic tourism. I wondered: What is the future of poetry and arts here in Kenya? What is the future of Lily Pond Arts Centre? What was the ambition of a Nanyuki youth? What desires fuelled his/her heart? In some curious way, I mused: Here, right at the equator, could the future of arts be defined? Could it be at the centre of the Earth, quite literally?

In all this, I remained optimistic. The Thank God It’s Friday (TGIF) Poetry Slam was one avenue in which the youths of Nanyuki would learn to appreciate their cultural diversity and life in totality. TGIF was like a flame to burn in their hearts on important issues they wanted to ventilate. Through the theme of ‘Street Life Experience’ which defined the first poetry slam in Nanyuki, my eyes were opened to the wonderful opportunities that lay for Kenyan youths. I believe strongly in letting off steam suppressed in our hearts. We have voices within us, we have conversations we want to bring to life. If shut off completely, they echo again and again and can drive us insane!

Three Tents, Three Stories, One Running Thread

( A Story submitted to Storymoja highlighting the Hay Festival 2011 for which the author had the opportunity to attend on 17th September 2011)

“Nobody is able. We have talents and weaknesses. We get closer to talents and further from weaknesses...the more disadvantaged one is, the further one goes.”

-- Abdelkader Benali, Author of ‘The Museum of Loved Ones’

When Storymoja offered me a free Saturday pass to Storymoja Hay Festival 2011, I had no idea of how much I stood to benefit. I remember being excited at the prospect of mingling with established writers and hearing them speak themselves. But it was more of a sketchy, hazy, far-fetched idea of how it will turn out to be.

At 11 a.m, I was seated at the Storymoja tent ready to listen to Abdelkader Benali, a soft-spoken, humorous writer, and Peter Moore, the writer of Swahili for the Broken Hearted. Benali talks about traversing the cities of Africa. He tells us about the story of Didier Drogba and of his role in shaping the politics of Ivory Coast. Didier had played in the war-torn Bouaké which is located centrally in Ivory Coast. He had wanted to promote peace and send a powerful message of unity. I listened intently to the football story and its ability to connect people and promote unity. “Football story is important for self-empowerment”, said Benali.

It was a journey to Mali, Ivory Coast, South Africa. Abdelkader reminds us of Michael Booth, the only white in the soccer team of South Africa who was always cheered and loved.  The question was thus whether football bridged colour lines especially when he had witnessed Bafana Bafana play with Jamaica and listening to commentaries being done in English, Zulu and Xhosa.

But as the conversation drew to the end, Abdelkader recounted the tale of a 28 year old Ghanaian man who had passion for football and dreamed to go to Europe but couldn’t play much. I found the story of the young man intriguing. Here was man who loved something and could do anything to accomplish his dream to the point of having all the travelling documents set. But ironically, he had no talent and couldn’t make it anyway. But as Benali thought, he would have done well in other fields because he had the drive and the right mental attitude.

At some point, Benali gave me something to think about. He was in Macedonia in a boat and all of a sudden his strange host a bit far screams, “...Beirut...India...Pakistan...Poof poof (gesticulating a gunshot)...problem...no problem”. What do you do in such circumstances? More importantly, what is the message? That is a food for thought. But Benali found those kinds of dialogue most interesting and memorable.

What I captured from Peter Moore was the labyrinth of his travel chronicles. But what I had to record was what he said about travel writing. He said that it must have a theme and angle which were the keys to hang on the story. As to the carefully laid out travel outcome most travel writers suffer from, he advised people to “let things happen”. Sometimes great stories are born out of twists and turns and not patterned processes.

The first session was over.

In the second session, seated a metre away from the British High Commissioner, Rob Macaire, Abdelkader Benali and Paralympic champion Mary Nakhumitsa, I drank from the words of these great people. The highlight of the interview was the inspiration that Nakhumitcha drew in her story of having won 12 gold medals, 11 silver medals and 6 bronze medals, despite her disability. Through her story, she helps us look at persons with disabilities from a different light—that of strength and not weakness, that of champions and not losers. Further commenting on the perceived ‘weaknesses’ of persons with disabilities, Benali stated that ‘nobody is able’ and that ‘we have talents and weaknesses. We get closer to talents and further from weaknesses’. Further, he stated that ‘the more disadvantaged one is, the further one goes”. I found that to be profound.

On his running career, Benali describes ‘second breath’ as the defining moment in one’s victory, a point when one sprints to victory in the last 50 or so metres away from the finishing line. I thought about second breath we need in our various spheres of life. May be a second breath in our writing life? A second breath in our relationships? A second breath in our careers?

But even more inspiring and a bit confusing is what he had observed among great athletes who ‘ran well and rested better’ which enable their bodies to recover. This, according to Benali, set apart a professional athlete from an amateur—professionals knew when to train hard when they were supposed to train hard and trained easy when needed.

On what inspired him to write, Benali was hard put to explain this. He had been raised in a Moroccan village where in their home they only had two books: a Qur’an and a telephone book. When he moved to Rotterdam Netherlands, he was awed by life there and wrote to ‘surprise people’. He could write well to catch the attention of his teachers of him as this ‘Moroccan boy’. He said that language is like law and that it can change somebody’s life. His phrase ‘dictatorship of modern life’ that calls for one to exercise wisdom in picking one thing to do in life is something worth pondering about.;

In the evening, I listen to Sitawa Namwalie and Yusef Komunyakaa after a glowing introduction delivered by Keguro Macharia. And it doesn’t disappoint. Sitawa reads us her poem ‘We Thought We Had Arrived’, an emotionally difficult poem that revisits the 2007/2008 Post-Poll Violence. She also reads a similar piece ‘Would You?’ which asks the most fundamental questions of our existence. Yusef, referred to as a “Jazz/blues poet’ by Keguro, speaks of a type of poetry known as ‘music of meditation’ as one that challenges one’s emotions. This, he adds, are the ones with longer lines. He also views poetry as a ‘celebration and confrontation’. Sitawa sees poetry as both whimsical and dry-eyed technical; whimsical in the sense that it puts down random thoughts without regard to form and structure and technical in the sense that a poem would be then crafted to better structure and form.

As both of these great living poets continue to read and recite their poetry, I am seated there amazed at their sizzling talents. They entertain as well as challenge me. I see myself seated there reading my own poetry from my own book. I see myself grappling with my life’s questions that I can’t answer.

When the events of the day climax with R-rated story-telling from Nick Hennessey, Mugambi, Muraya, Anne Moraa, the presenters of East FM, amongst other talented writers, I could not help but think about the talent exhibited by these souls. In a span of a day, I had acquired so much, had fun and mingled with the stars!

Part 2: Mtwapa Edition

After visiting the male prisoners, we find time to offer legal aid to women prisoners. A young woman barely in her twenties approaches me and speaks perfect Swahili. She is a Luhya but the way she speaks her Swahili is music to my ears. Sample this:

“ Ninatatizika kidogo. NImeshinda huku karibu miezi tisa bila kesi yangu kusikizwa. Kila mara kiongozi wa mashtaka atatoa sababu na kufanya kesi ihahirishwe. Wakili wangu sijamtia machoni. Yuwaja kortini na kujiendea bila ya kuzungumza nami..”

“ I am in a fix. I have been in remand for close to nine months yet my case hasn’t been heard. Every time, the prosecution will give excuses to seek adjournment of the case. I have not yet met my advocate. He does come to court but disappears after court sessions without talking to me.”

Swahili aside, the most depressing indictment of our court system in Kenya is the backlog of cases. One in remand could stay there for more than a year without his case being heard and as if that is not ‘torture’ enough, every other time the case would be adjourned. I heard from a couple of prisoners the common problem of them not being given an opportunity to address the court especially when they are representing themselves. They are conveniently ignored, they say. Two issues: One, how adequate is free legal representation in Kenya? Two, are there instances of blatant disregard of an accused’s right to legal representation? If so, what are their recourse in case of breach?

There was an interesting case of a woman whose sentence was erroneously computed. Instead of doing it concurrently, the sentence was made to run cumulatively! As such, the prisoner ( according to this error) was to be out of prison in 2017 yet in real sense she was to be free three months ago! So grave was this issue that our supervisors had to intervene and explain this anomaly to the prison authorities.

I met another case of a woman who had paid an advocate some sum so that she could be represented but the advocate went missing. That was embarrassing especially as I set out to explain the role of the Advocates Complaints Commission and how she could lodge her complaint.

I notice that a tree we sit close by has most of its lower branches chopped off. My imagination goes on a stampede. Is it to prevent a prisoner from running and hiding on top of this tree?

We handle a couple of other clients and by almost 4 p.m. we are done. Later in the evening, as we walk in the streets of Mtwapa, a friend admires a pair of shoes going for 450 shillings. On saying that she had 250 shillings, our good Mombasa businessman summarily dismisses us saying, “Jaribu kesho”. You see, these Mombasa businessmen don’t get it. We, the bara people know how to bargain. You say a pair of shoes goes for 1000 shillings and we divide that figure with 2 and minus 100 shillings and start bargaining from there. But again, Mtwapa is not Muthurwa and Abdulrahman is not Kamau.

Next day we visit the beach. At least with the consolation that I can swim, I secure a boat ride with my friends. It is a wholesome experience seeing the coral reefs under the glass in our boat. Our driver calls his wife and tells her that he is on a boat “in the high seas”, in the “middle of nowhere” and that “the problem is that he hasn’t signed a will”. We burst out laughing. After the boat ride, I get myself madafu, pose for some photos while wearing a palm-frond hat so that in case some of my haters decide to say that I never went to the beach at least I would have some proof. Plus I made sure that the cameraman captured the coconut trees and the boats. You can’t be sure with some of these things nowadays.

Then we are off to Nairobi. One positive thing is that I no longer talk fast, thanks to the coast.

Trip to Shimo La Tewa Prison, Mombasa (Part 1)

Finally, I am travelling to Mombasa. As a herdsboy who has been raised in 'bara', you see, what Coast has to offer-- the beaches, the coral reefs, the boat rides, the sluggish and easy walks-- all of them are so inviting. We are on a school trip to Shimo La Tewa Prison to give legal aid to the remandees and prisoners.

Friday 19th-- the D-Day

We check into the bus at around 9. We are off by around 9.30. I carry a small bag containing a few clothes, Patrick Kiage's Essentials of Criminal Procedure, The Constitution ( Well, let me admit it is the Proposed New Constitution but hey it is the real thing nonetheless), a small notebook and my favourite copy of Nuyorican Poets Cafe ( to take care of my poetry cravings, you know).

You remember how we used to write our compositions? We went, went, we weeeeeee-eee-nnnnt, we weeeeeeeent and weeeeent. Yes. It was a long journey. At around 6 p.m, we had checked into Mombasa town. A colleague points to me Nyali Bridge. So this is Nyali Bridge after all? I think to myself. Then I see a board saying Kisauni, Mtwapa and Kongowea ( I am not very sure about Kongowea. You see I could create places in my mind). All I know is that I felt excited being at Mtwapa. I felt like to call my kinsmen and tell them " Nimetua Mtwapa mimi kwa raha zangu" ( I have landed at Mtwapa 'in my happiness'). I just sit, talk and observe.

We stop somewhere near Nakumatt Shopping Mall. We are given around 20 minutes. I walk purposefully to the mall, stroll checking what it has to offer. I make up my mind that I am not buying anything. Thoughts of being rich flood my mind. I think for a moment that I am the owner of Nakumatt ( more precisely, majority shareholder) but you see these thoughts are very depressing. So I stick to being the consumer, do several laps, check the price of a good bag as if I would eventually buy it and off I get out.

Twenty minutes are over. We get into the bus. Destination? Danpark Hotel and Apartments. We are allocated rooms. My friend Tom and I are allocated room no. 14. We get inside the rooms, shower, watch news briefly and get out to have our supper. What a meal from the buffet! ( I can bet I have added a kg from all this). There was this blind man ( not blind, I am sorry, that is not politically correct: A man who had lost his ability of eyesight) who was a comedian/singer/clown/pseudo-Moi/pseudo-Kibaki, a motorcycle and even a plane! He rocked our evening.

I scan the room later. We have a balcony outside. Inside, I see a bible written das neue testament, le nouveau testament, the new testament. I think: These people are considerate to feed the body and the soul. Another good thing is that their sandals are not of different colours and not disfigured.  That is a story for another day ( ha ha). No much event. I am tired. Tom is tired. We hit the bed at around 11 p.m. Day one over.

20th August.

Saturday Morning. Dan Park Hotel and Apartments. There are some kinds of breakfasts which are not breakfasts. They should be named something else ( may be early lunch or something close to that) for all I know of a break fast is that it consists of a cup of tea and may be a mandazi and that is it! Now, when we have cornflakes, milk, eggs, sweet potatoes, slices of bread, watermelons, bananas and some mandazis, I am at a loss my good people. Speaking of which, what is a nylon tea? I saw it somewhere along the queue of what we were supposed to take but I chose to ignore it. You see, they say better the tea you know than the nylon tea you don't know.

At around 9 a.m, we set off to Shimo La Tewa Prison. In the meantime, some chap is telling me that the acronym HAGUE ( pronounced HAGUE), stands for : H- Henry Kosgei, A-Arap Sang, G- General Ali, U- Uhuru Kenyatta, E- Eldoret North MP. How people can devise such beats me!

Inside the prison, we are addressed by Mr. Sawe who we were told was the officer- in- charge. He tells us that there are around 2,300 remandees inside there ( actually an excess of 1,300 because the capacity is for 1000 only). I think: Shouldn't we think more about rehabilitation than punitive punishment? What of out-of-court-settlements and ADRs?  As we are taken round, I see the usual board of the rights of the prisoners by KNCHR. We are also shown the MUHURI office and madrassa. This is commendable. But I have my doubts. Are these offices cosmetic, so to speak, or are they there to defend the rights of the prisoners? Because, there were common legal problems of prisoners' rights being infringed. I also notice that there are flowers and a beautiful garden. Wonderful, I think to myself. A nagging thought, though, : Pray, what does Shimo La Tewa mean? I note that their vision is to be a "correctional service of excellence in Africa and beyond". Not bad for a prison. Not bad at all. Another positive thing is their "karakana" where we saw charcoal jikos, beds, tables, stools and wonderful pieces of furniture made in prison.

We gather somewhere and start the business that really brought us. We offer our pieces of advice for about two hours. These interviews were really practical because you were dealing with a real person with a real problem. Not some abstract postulations. And you could feel how law operates as opposed to how it ought to operate. You meet a wide array of issues, look one accused of murder straight in the face and all this time you are thinking: Did he really kill? His eyes are so calm not to have stirred up violence? Why did he kill ( assuming that he killed) But you don't ask these questions.

In our trip, we visit the cells. I notice a soap stuck on a wall. The place is clean and from the fact that we are shown only two rooms I am led to think that this could have been a PR exercise.

( There are a couple of events subsequent to this. Watch out for part 2).

Quotes on Hope

I share with you random quotes I had previously shared on my facebook wall. They were scattered. Here, I lay them systematically.

1.We had a man-to-man talk with sorrow a long time ago. I sat him down, talked with him for two hours. He was decrepit, shallow, sunken. As I talked to him about the rays of the sun and the exciting beaches and the mystery of the human voice, I realized that I was in the wrong company. We are not in talking terms ever since. 

2. I overheard somebody say that I am 'annoyingly happy'. I thought about it and I confess that I hold the earth with a candlestick and as it flickers rays of hope who am I, Lorot Son of the Hills, not to share with you its light? 

3. Child of Hope, as you end up this week always know that your efforts count a lot. Push yourself to the limit, be at the edge. You have all that it takes to accomplish what you want to do. Work on your to-do list, Child of Hope. The clock is ticking.

4. Child of Hope, with all the uncertainties- the soaring food prices, the debilitating news of Somali refugees, the selfishness- these should not depress you. In your own small little ways you could help the world. Forge on, Child of Hope. Put a smile on somebody’s face today.

5. When you rise up to speak, Child of Hope, guard your tongue. What will invectives, insults and chest-thumping yield? Where is wisdom in stirring wrath? If need be, be silent but when you stand up to speak, speak in the wisdom of our people. If your words be measured by their weight, let them break the weighing machines, not some empty chatter . 

6. Many ask me what keeps me keeping on. When I tell them that this life is exciting, they don’t believe me. Listen to Marangi’s Dura Coat adverts, watch the GalSheet advert of our dude being chased out, watch the Blue Band woman ride a small bike and stopping a moving bus. In these small things we find humour. 

7. Until and unless Kenyans stop following the sideshows of our politicians, we might never discover the prank they play on us. Our politicians have mastered the art of distraction. If a politician breaks into a song in a press conference, we should not be distracted by the hoarseness of his voice. Rather, we should ask whether that is the same voice we gave him to articulate our issues.

8. And what do our youths of today have to offer? It is sad that in Kenya today, we find old minds trapped in young bodies. Bestraddling our political landscape today, we see them everywhere. Of ‘Youth MPs’ who think like 70 year olds or 80 year olds or 90 year olds. Their claim to fame is that they are young yet in their minds they carry the baggage of tired ideas.

9. It will be a tragedy of our times if we fall into the same trap again. Let us never lose sight of what we need as a country. These nonsensical outfits we call political parties are the gravy trains that have halted our leap into the future. I have no problem if a clever politician comes up with a name like Vigeugeu Hapana Tena. Problem will be if he will take my country to different level.

10. Coupled with hope, keep humour close with you. If you see ‘blind’ men begging only to run when they see the City Council askaris, laugh at this. There is always humour around you, of people talking to themselves in the streets, of our politicians, of the best of life’s comedies.

11. And you might forget all else, Child of Hope, but always keep this with you. Hope is the last thing you can lose. You can replace wealth, you can replenish knowledge, you can fix a broken tooth but you can’t fix a shattered hope. Hope is the spring in your feet, the urge in your voice, the dream that keeps you going.

12. Keep on, Child of Hope, Keep on. Whatever the affliction, whatever the difficulty. Children of Hope live with the stars and the moon and the galaxies. They are not ruffled by whirlwinds for what are they but confused chaos with no purpose? Keep on, Child of Hope, Keep on.

13. Child of Hope, never let the month of July chilling cold shake your bones. Didn’t they say that after cold there’s warmth and that sorrow invites surprises? August will be here. Soon, whatever chilly sensations that have been numbing you will be gone, inviting the warmth that will light up your dreams.

14. Child of Hope, never ever despair. You have walked in the searing sun of the day, why should the fickle light of the moon discourage you. You are a Child of Hope, always remember that. 

C) Lorot Salem 2011

Prison Diary

Never been to prison before. Till last Saturday. Well, you must be wondering whether the prison reforms in Kenya have gone high-tech as to include blogging rights to prisoners. No. We had gone to Nairobi West Prison for some legal aid in our capacity as students at the Kenya School of Law.

We were taken round to see the facilities there. My mind is filled with a lot of issues. I would not post them here. But that visit helped me to open up to so many realities. They say tembea uone. Sorry for such a sketchy post.

I need to apologize to the readers of this blog for my hiatus. I am back with a bang. Watch this space.

Legal Writing and Drafting #1

Let us be on the same page: when I photocopied the legal writing and drafting exercises and flipped through the question, I knew I was Mr. Munene’s dead meat. I looked through. Generic transitions. Dovetailing. Active voice. Passive voice. Concrete subjects. Action verbs. Subject verb distance. Sentence length. Emphasis. Single word emphasisers. Changing word order. Breaking pattern.

For almost thirty minutes I looked at exercise one and all I thought about transitions was political. That is, the way a country moves from despotism to dependency. So I asked myself: How does generic come in? Isn’t it misplaced? As for dovetailing, the least said the better. I read that dovetailing is the overlap of language between two sentences that creates a bridge between those two sentences. Doesn’t make sense. In my mind’s eye, I could see a white dove. That was fine. But tail? I was lost. I further read that dovetails are often created by moving the connecting idea to the end of the first sentence and the beginning of the second sentence, repeating key words, using pronouns to refer back to nouns an earlier sentence, and using “hook words” (this, that, these, such) and a summarizing noun. That is a lot of stuff in one sentence. Where is conciseness? Where is elegance? Where is brevity? What about feathers? I mean we are talking about a dove, right? This is my take: sentences should be able to intrinsically bond. If they cannot consult each other, insisting on quarrelling at the top of their lungs then why bother to “connect” them, for crying out loud? So, in my wisdom, I flipped through the question, saying, “Fighting, huh? When you are finished, please remember to turn off the lights”.

I also had a problem with active voice and passive voice. I told the members of my group that when I shout, then my voice is active; if I whisper, then my voice is passive. Makes perfect sense, right? But some loudmouth tells me this: An active voice is ordered in the manner of Subject, Verb, Object. A Passive voice is the reverse because you start with an Object, Verb then Subject. 

The same loudmouth goes further to say: In an active voice, the Subject is acting whereas in a passive voice the Subject is being acted upon.

Not to be lost, I remind her that in all the sentences there is not even one subject which has been mentioned. No Criminal Litigation. No Conveyancing. No Legal Drafting. An object could be a chair, a marker, a book, a mwakenya. At least, it should be tangible. The other members looked at me as if they doubted my entry qualifications. In consolation, my conscience is clear about the fact that I voiced my reservations on the way they handle questions. You see, some of these questions are very tricky and require a sharp mind to know what active and passive voices are in the first place.

I was tired at some point while handling the questions. Out of my creativity, I decided to google some of the questions. I started with concrete subjects because when I perused through the questions I did not see challenging subjects like Legal Writing and Drafting especially. 

In the search toolbar I typed: "Mark the subject and verb in the following sentences with an “S” and “V” and then revise the sentence to have a concrete subject. In some cases, you will have to create your own concrete subject.

1.       It could be argued by the defense that Mr. Smith was out of the state at the time of the robbery.”

Folks, needless to say, I got no relevant answers. I thought to myself: If google has been defeated, who am I, Lorot Son of the Hills, to know the answers. I wrote somewhere: To see Mr. Munene immediately. Why? Because he is the problem!