The allure of the bad boy

Bad boys are the kind of men that mothers love to hate and fathers swear to kill. They are the kind of men that well-mannered girls desperately fall in love with.

Call it insanity or fatal attraction, the bad boy has a touch of rebelliousness blended with finesse that often drives women weak to their knees. His dangerous appeal and wild attitude singles him out from the other men and makes him even more attractive to a woman.

 He is arrogant, self-centered and egotistic but makes no apologies about it. As far as he is concerned, he is the only sane person in the planet because the rest of the world is twisted.

The bad boy exudes a certain level of confidence akin to James Bond 007 because he always presumes to have the upper hand in everything. He is the only king in his kingdom.

He doesn’t hide the fact that he is good looking or that he has a perfect body that would drive a lot of women crazy. He attracts attention without even trying. Maybe it is his leather jacket, or metal boots that produce a clicking sound as he walks, or his conspicuous tattoo. Or it is his really strange haircut. Maybe it is the mafia attitude.

He is an expert at attracting trouble and causing fracas. From bar brawls to fights in the street, the bad boy is a master at being bad.

He is a contrarian; he does not need to conform to the common ways of fellow men. That would be too easy a life and lame too. He makes his own rules that he chooses to live by. So what if your mother wants you home by 10.00 pm? The bad by doesn’t care because midnight is as good as 10.

He doesn’t care about sentimental gestures like buying flowers for the woman he is dating because that is just too corny and so not his style. Besides, roses chock the fresh air out of the room.

Unlike the ones who fall in love, some women date the bad boy for the fun of it. Bad boys are never boring because they always have a trick up their sleeve. They have the let’s -set -the -world-on - fire attitude that keeps a woman intrigued and interested even when her father threatens to disown her.

Bad boys are like shoes; shoes strain your feet but you still keep them in your closet because they are too good to be discarded. Bad boys strain your life but you just can’t keep them to the curb.

ALCOHOL FROM HELL: A TALE OF KOROGOCHO BREWERIES

A few weeks ago, NTV courtesy of one John Allan Namu exposed us to a shocking reality about a tiny alcohol brewery inside the dingy filthy slums of Korogocho where alcohol is ‘sweetened’ with ARVs and formalin.

In a gripping documentary titled Sisters of Death, NTV peeled back the mask on a booming alcohol business by HIV positive women in Korogocho slums who use their ARVs to make alcohol for sale.

If it were not for the always inquisitive Allan Namu, maybe we would never have known that ARVs can act as an ingredient for alcohol. With their super Einstein brains, no scientist in the world had figured this out except for a few ‘geniuses’ in the poverty-stricken Korogocho slums.

It is said that these industrious women bumped on this knwoledge after some of them complained of feeling drowsy and a little tipsy after taking the ARV tablets (the same effect alcohol has on its faithfuls). They decided to experiment with the drugs and voila! The alcohol was sweeter and addictive too!

This they say has attracted more customers who claim that the quality of their alcohol has improved, and they can now go home drunk and staggering than ever. And the profit is awesome!

Even at a time that donors have threatened to withdraw funding on HIV/AIDS in Kenya, the women from Korogocho apparently do not think that ARVs are such a big deal to HIV+ victims. Instead of using the tablets to prolong their lives, they would rather crush them to powder and mix in alcohol.

Most HIV + victims can attest that it is always hard if not impossible to obtain ARVs, because they have to hop from one clinic to the next in search of the wonder drug that is their only hope of a longer life.

And so it is an absolute criminality that somewhere in Korogocho, is a secret business of ARV misuse where women are intentionally endangering the lives of their unsuspecting customers by lacing alcohol with ARVs and formalin.

Formalin was intended for only one purpose, to preserve dead bodies in morgues and not to preserve the drunken living.

This special brew is then packaged into clean bottles where each bottle is branded in popular brand names together with real stickers and seals which the women obtain by stealing, after which they hit the market fast to rival other major legitimate breweries.

This is proof that the next time you are out shopping for a bottle of liquor, you can never be too sure if it the true brand or it is made in Korogocho.

It is high time the drinking population became vigilant because our Chinese brothers have taught us that looks can be deceptive; just because it is written on the sticker doesn’t make it original.

This chilling revelation has left many perturbed with a few of my friends swearing to stop taking alcohol, which I know can never work because they have “been there, done that” several times but I still find them sitting at a bar table licking the alcohol from their fingers.

The effects this alcohol has on its consumers is yet to be known as  NACADA has ordered tests to ascertain its possible effects on human life, and we sure hope it is not tragic because Kenya has already lost so many due to illicit brew.

The Typical Campus Drinker

Surviving on campus always comes with its ups and downs; from exams, relationships, money and to the most notorious of them all: sweet ALCOHOL. Students love alcohol and alcohol loves students, it’s almost like a perfect give and take relationship with high dependence on each other.

Alcohol is regarded highly among its faithful followers as the only way to unwind and have ultimate fun. It is a culture that is soon embraced by the naïve and green freshmen that are always ready to experience life on the Upper East Side (campus). Every drinker has their unique habits and the typical campus drinker has his too.

1.       Drinks cheap liquor

Not every student who desires alcohol can afford expensive drinks like Johnny Walker or Amarulla but HURRAY! to the alcohol industry for providing us with many choices that are friendly to the pocket.

Due to the status quo, some high and mighty students who find themselves so broke that they have to resort to cheap drinks like Kibao keep their ‘precious’ bottle under the table or somewhere in a dark corner to avoid public embarrassment and humiliation.

2.       Drinks and dashes

This is an art that has been perfected by the female campus drinker. They know just who to corner and when to take off.

She finds herself a ‘rich’ student admirer and squeezes a few bottles of Smirnoff vodka out of him.  As it is the way of the world the buyer assumes that there is nothing like free booze unless she has something to offer him. He excitedly calls his roommate and demands that he vacates the room because he is bringing home some chips funga.

But the female drinker being as educated and tactful as she is, soon disappears among the drunken crowds to hunt for another fat pocket because she is still not high.

“You cannot afford to be choosy, sometimes looks are thrown out through the window when you see the size of his pocket,” a friend once confessed.

3.         Can still get drunk even when penniless

A pauper may sleep hungry a few nights but lack of money has never stopped a typical campus drinker from becoming insanely drunk.

He goes to the club with one sole purpose: to prey on the unattended liquor.  All he needs is a plastic tumbler and quick long hands, and sometimes a sweet tongue in case he is caught in the act.

He moves from one table to the next, desperately searching for an ‘abandoned’ drink or a ‘giving drinker’ who understands the phrase ‘give and it shall be given unto you.’ The cocktail that results from this artful begging and stealing can do wonders to the human body.

By the end of the night, such bona fide predators are the most drunk in the club, they even start hurling abuses at the source of their drink. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!

4.       Can stumble and fall, but still save the drink

…what’s in my cup stays in my cup, in my cup stays in my cup, my drink is in my cup. Richie Loops might as well be made a hero for singing such thoughtful lines. Protecting what you hold most dear may mean something different to a campus drinker.

The bottle is precious to him and protecting it from crashing into pieces and spilling its valuable contents he must. God forbid if it were to slip from his tenacious grip…the whole bar would be plunged into total chaos!

5.       Fights with unmatched madness regardless of gender

It has been said that the ugliest brawls are between people of the opposite gender. The campus drinker has no self-restraint, be it a male student fighting a female student or vice versa. All sense and decency is lost as they pummel each other and even seek supporting materials like bottles.

The cause of such fights can be as petty as a body touch or just a stare. Once while on a drinking spree with my girlfriends I accidentally pushed a drunken comrade. Little did I know that I had opened the Pandora’s Box of rage. Had it not been for the police who arrived courtesy of Mututho Laws, I would have earned a black eye, a broken lip and even a couple of scratches on the face.

Any gentleman or ladylike qualities are abandoned the moment the alcohol hits the brain and the campus drinker transforms into a complete savage.

6.       Dances to gospel music in the club

Jimmy Gait and MOG are celebrities in churches and clubs alike. When it comes to the new generation of gospel music, there are no boundaries as to where they should be played. When a campus drinker is high on his fix, unusual things tend to happen. This is the time she or he pulls the explicit bend-over style while drunkenly singing along to Jimmy Gait’s furi furi blasting from the club stereo. “You do much for me…that nobody can…that’s why I furi furi dance…” Sure God is omnipresent!

TEACHERS ASSAULTED BY COLLEAGUES IN SIAYA

Kenya has turned into a striking nation with every professional itching to take that infamous walk into the street brandishing placards and chanting solidarity slogans. From doctors in screaming white overalls to teachers wielding stones, strike is the new swag.

This is too common a picture, Kenyans are no longer surprised. We are used to the violent face-off between the police and stone-friendly teachers.  We have witnessed the police teargasing the restless teachers who run around helter-skelter and watery-eyed but still intent on hurling stones at the men in uniform.

We are even used to teachers getting cornered and clobbered mercilessly and the retaliation game of stone throwing and name calling from both parties continues until some sensible soul calls off the ‘bloody’ strike.

A shirtless teacher who was assaulted by colleagues walks away in shame

Kenyans have seen all these madness and lived through it all, but the recent teachers’ strike that commenced on the 3^rd of Monday has shocked all of us. Just like a child who has learned a new trick, the teachers have taken their antics a notch higher.

The thought that the government had adamantly failed to honour their 1997 Agreement (300 % salary increment) and was carelessly throwing it in their face was too much to bear, and they felt more betrayed that some of their colleagues had the audacity to boycott the strike.

And so they decided to strip them naked and parade them in the shameful glare of the always curious members of the public.

Over 20 head teachers in Siaya County were exposed to a public ridicule and embarrassment when they were stripped of their clothes and beaten senselessly by their ‘juniors’ on Tuesday as the teachers’ strike entered its second day.

 The head teachers were sitting the mandatory Kenya Education Management Institute Examination at a certain secondary school when they were attacked by an angry mob of unruly teachers.

The teachers turned hooligans accused their superiors of betraying them by boycotting the strike to sit an important exam and saw it fit to punish them for their ‘errant’ ways.

More drama unfolded when they unapologetically stripped some of the school heads amid cheers from other teachers before frog marching them into town.

In the full glare of the dismayed public and the hot sun, the teachers marched on undeterred and unshaken, ignoring the desperate pleas from their victims or the shame they were exposing them to.

Even the pupils they teach in class had to see them shrinking away in absolute shame as they were harassed and assaulted by their own. It was no longer a conflict between the teachers and the police but between teachers and their own colleagues.

It is disconcerting that the people who have been entrusted with the responsibility of instilling morals and good values into the children of the future are going against their principles. Talk of professional hooliganism. Or is it a case of all is fair in….and WAR?