Day 197…

Reality bites. Truth hurts. Times flies. Life kills.

In the midst of it all, I’m juggling. Starting. Stopping. Rising. Praying. Falling. Growing. Saying. Hoping. Changing.

I had a plan for 2012. Now, with less than four months to go, this is finally where the rubber meets the road.

See you in November.


Day 189…

This narcoleptic, rugby-ball headed, fake teeth having, business-averse, communication-challenged, twelve left feet having, low shame level, cheapskate of a man would like to pause in sheer awe and appreciation of womenfolk’s knack for seeing beyond men’s current being to envision their full and glorious potential.

While you women insist on punishing us harshly when we stumble or fall short of our expected greatness, you remain unwavering in your loyalty, honesty and love that is overwhelming and is truly fuel in the engine that propels us men forward.

On behalf of men everywhere, I salute you.

The VWS Experience

Recently, I came across this frightfully apt description of courts penned in England around 1851 by Charles Dickens in his book, “Bleak House”:

“…Some score of members of the High Court of Chancery bar are mistily engaged in one of the ten thousand stages of an endless cause, tripping one another up on slippery precedents, groping knee-deep in technicalities, running their goat-hair and horse-hair warded heads against walls of words and making a pretence of equity with serious faces, as players might


The various solicitors in the cause, some two or three of whom have inherited it from their fathers, who made a fortune by it, ought to be — as are they not? — ranged in a line, in a long matted well (but you might look in vain for truth at the bottom of it) between the registrar’s red table and the silk gowns, with bills, cross-bills, answers, rejoinders, injunctions, affidavits, issues, references to masters, masters’ reports, mountains of costly nonsense, piled before them.


This is the Court of Chancery, which has its decaying houses and its blighted lands in every shire, which has its worn-out lunatic in every madhouse and its dead in every churchyard, which has its ruined suitor with his slipshod heels and threadbare dress borrowing and begging through the round of every man’s acquaintance, which gives to monied might the means abundantly of wearying out the right, which so exhausts finances, patience, courage, hope, so overthrows the brain and breaks the heart, that there is not an honourable man among its practitioners who would not give — who does not often give — the warning, ‘Suffer any wrong that can be done you rather than come here!'”

It’s safe to say that lawyer-hatred is universal and has been with us from way back. As a practitioner myself, I’ll be the first to admit that the court system is far from perfect and lawyers (present company excluded) have thrived on technicalities and loopholes in the judicial system to serve personal interests and the interests of clients. But all this is slowly changing: reforms are slowly taking root both at the Judiciary and the Law Society thanks in no small part to the enabling framework created in the Constitution.

Day 173…

I don’t believe in friendships. Or maybe I don’t see the need to make them work or work at them.

For me, friendships aren’t really friendships but relationships defined by the circumstances under which our spheres of influences overlapped or touched.

Ergo, I’ve got my exclusive heterosexual mate, colleagues, ex-colleagues, classmates, ex-classmates, wingmen (both male and female), ex-girlfriends, crushes, flings, acquaintances, tweeps or any combination of these, and many others.

None of these are my friends. Past or Present. No matter how close. I’ll just put you in a box and label you as anything but a friend.

Miraculously, I’ve survived this long with such a warped sense of human interaction.

I use the word ‘survived’ loosely seeing as I’ve managed to remain the same masked, self-destructive, ego-driven, obsessive and ambivalent island of a man you’ve all grown to love/hate.

Or maybe, all of this is just the loneliness talking.


I rest.


| now playing: The Roots – “Clock With No Hands” |

Day 170…

Last year, I got the Constitution of Kenya for my birthday.

Inside it, a handwritten message reads:

“To my beloved son, the lawyer of the family. Always uphold the rule of law and justice.”

To which I reply: I will. And I pray for strength every day to be a living embodiment of Article 10 and Chapter 6 of this supreme law.

Day 152…

Would you really take a bullet for me?

Just saying it, promising it, pledging it, is a big deal.

Either you’re a fool or a hero or both.

Time will decide.

You may hesitate, or even blink,

But it’s what you do immediately after.

That’s the only thing that matters.

Making that plunge,

Rising to that occasion,

Stepping up at the decisive moment,

Or not.

Or something else.

Or nothing.

You may decide then choose differently,

or you may decide then choose the same.

Don’t feel pressured.

I won’t judge you for it, but I will remember.


| Now playing: The Weeknd ft. Drake – “The Zone” |