Moments 2015

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I remember early this year in a party hosted by Sam Munyis, things were just warming up and it was around 10pm. So everyone is having a good time dancing and drinking some lethal punch (courtesy: Francis the Lone Puppeteer), and then this guy stops me at the entrance. It is a bit dark, so I can barely make out his face but then he just goes ahead to ask me if I am the writer dennispetersblog, so I say I have a couple of guests post, around five but majorly I am the main writer with more than one hundred and fifty posts. He then mentions some of his favourite posts among them, A Letter to Esther and Are we Drinking Tonight. Then he pushes his point further telling me how these posts made him feel, his description is so intense and I am tempted to ask him if he had taken Francis’s punch but then I discover that I was not so sober myself. If I mentioned he was drunk it would be like a donkey washing its pale skin on the very dust that makes it foul. So I held back and heard him talk of how revolutionary dennispetersblog is. That was one encounter and among the highest moment dennispetersblog has had this year. Do you know how rare it is to be complimented? Not just any compliment but a compliment in a night party? Usually people party together and act like total strangers in the morning, nobody gives a shit what you do during the day in a party but this guy did, he noticed the notions behind dennispetersblog. I had made it as a man the moment that compliment landed on my years.

Best Article  

The Eulogy and Encounter with Afande ain’t shit. The Clouds Coming In has to be one my favourite article the entire year! It was a narrative poetry in memory of Karoline Njeri, my eldest sister who passed on September this year. I remember writing it early in the morning as an alternative to attend class seated on my dining table in those fluffy sandals girls put on inside the house with a Maasai-print cover wrapped around me to keep away the piercing cold. Line after line I wrote the poem tears flowing freely down my cheeks yet I did not bother myself to wipe them away. I was in the zone and with every world, a weight lifted up from my soul. I was sad and angry at the doctors, at sickness and at the entire world, I just could not fathom how I had just lost a friend I had been speaking to earlier in the week on casual terms. I thought I had dealt with every pain that had brought, until this Christmas when I made I trip home, and I could barely see through the spaces left agape since her passing. I saw shoes that had her feet’s shape and I knew she would never put them on again. I saw my grandma’s living room and I could see the empty seat she should have been sitting. Christmas was messed up. Well, Karoline’s husband Mathew had followed her closely after her death to the grave so maybe we all can learn a lesson or two about true love.

 

Achievements 2015

Now, this might generally have been a sad year but then it had its peaks. Tamal Entertainment has to be my biggest achievement in 2015. I co-founded this company with a certain film producer in town where we had a series of products the main one being Tamal Magazine. Well, the company is still at its design phase considering some legal formalities that have been holding us back but it would be unfair if I do not thank the people behind the brand. Beatrice Mburu, a makeup artist, Marie Kwambuka, a dancer and marketing strategist, Joy Wachinga, a fashion writer and stylist, Francis Ndun’gu, alias The Lone Puppeteer, a writer, poet and editor. Sam Munyiri, a writer and graphic designer, Moses Maina, a film producer and lastly Mukiri Gitiri, the photographer behind the #MukiriPhotography  brand. These were the people that formed the board of directors for Tamal Company Limited. Now Tamal is going to bounce back in 2016 with a better strategy this time and we will be filling up the streets with good energy.

BAKE DeKUT can hardly be held down when it comes to mentioning achievements in the course of the year. I am the President of the platform that enables artists all over to display different kinds of art. Visit the website for more details www.bakedeku.co.ke. My various articles on the website are such as He is getting too fond of the Bottle and Who drained the Sagana.

Well, I climbed Mt Kenya early 2015 in February, 4897 meters above sea level to Lenana Peak. That is also a lifetime travel experience that I have no intention of doing ever again. I want to stay alive long. Among other travels are Mt Kenya National Park and Italian War Memorial Chapel in Nyeri among others.

Well I was also a charted as a Rotaractor for those who know about the Rotary Club.

 

Best Reads 2015

I don’t know where Trica Ciku got these books by John Grisham! Forget the twisted messed up plot in Game of Thrones, John Grisham has managed to hold me captive in his series of 21 books and hooked like a junky on coke. There is something about his freedom of writing that just makes his work more and more attractive with each book. The plot is twisted though, that guy will describe a scene of rape like he is describing a walk in the park and you will be there wondering if the writer was a sociopath living alone at the edge of a dark forest scaring kids and making midnight rounds in the village! John Grisham!

Kate Njenga still managed to steal my heart this year just like last year, her article Reading for Dummies about some douche face trying to look cool by pretending to read a book in a public transport vehicle caught me in stitches! Kate Njenga claims she is a philosopher but with every article she writes her humour makes her work more and more attractive. Now I know she has a lot of fans here but it is only proper that I clarify that am her mentor. Okay? Now I will see myself out.

Chero Misoy’s Blog is my best general blog this year. I am getting this persistent fondness to poetry that keeps growing bolder and bolder. I remember vividly in October performing a spoken word written by Lilian Cherotich alias Chero Misoy the poet behind My Truth My Escape, in a glamorous event to charter The Dedan Kimathi Rotaract Club. The poem had the title 16 Tears of Age and it was about the life and hustles of poverty. So I am there in front of a crowd all looking at me with expectant eyes, I have been speaking for a while my voice going up and down like a thermometer then suddenly words just disappeared as I came to the last verse! I do not know how and why it happened, words just vanished like the wind and I had nothing to say. I stood there planted on the ground waiting to be struck by lightning and disappear from the phase of planet earth. Maybe the aliens, the Martians, would accept me even if I had messed up Chero Misoy’s beautiful poem. But then Njengas do not go down easy, I began giving the crowd a story as I reconstructed the sentences in my head and then connected the story to the last verse of the poem. To date only like five people knew I had messed up the spoken word, the rest thought I was in character! That too has to be my highest moment in 2015!

 

MukiriPhotography

Now I have said it more than a million times that #MukiriPhotography should have a blog already! Throughout the year I have seen the magic this brand name carries with it in photography and the work is just beautiful! The gang behind the brand under Mukiri Gitiri, is basically Trica Ciku and me. Yes! I am a groupie whenever it comes to good art. So I follow them every weekend in their photo hunts because I am hooked around their tiny finger like a rubber band. Now I know that Mukiri has a lot of fans here but it is only proper that I clarify that am her mentor too. Okay? Now I will see myself out.

 

Finally.

Shout out to dennispetersblog crew, I told you when I did Moments 2014 that I am only here because you let me. Because you switch on your mobile data when stuck in bank queues, cafeteria queues and HELB queues (First Year fans, I see you *fist bump*). I did not write as much as I would have loved to in 2015 because distraction grew and swallowed up all the time but in earnest, writing is the main thing even behind all other projects that began this year so if I am not writing here, I am writing elsewhere call, and ask where. Yes?

 

Dennis man, it has been a week since you posted what’s happening?

 

I got married men, feel me?

 

So marriage took away your fingers or your laptop?

 

Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. I will see you all in 2016.

 

 

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Dennis Peters

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Half Baked

dancing women

These women are dedicated and relentless workers. So they will sing at this gathering and the next, not to amuse but because that is what they do, they welcome politicians in public gatherings. They are not pretentious and aloof like the ones been welcomed, No, they are prescient on the things the government could do to change their lives. They are not circumspect with words, theirs an honest motive antithetical to the Mr Politician. So they sing…

Welocamu guku mucii wa wendo eeee welocomu… welo…

(Welcome Mr Politician to this home of love, welcome)

And Mr Politician will smile sheepishly with a broad face framed with high cheekbones and a strong jawline sitting squarely on a thick, short neck appearing as one with massive sloping shoulders, giving an impression of a man made of concrete block impeccably dressed in a sparkly dark business suit. He will walk with his guards next to him showing off his abilities and singleness of purpose hard earned by convincing these voters. He will breathe the air of superiority his strength evident in his physical bulk. The smile never wipes away as the women dance, No, in fact he might even join them at one instance, perhaps to remind them of what he once was but no longer is.

Gomaga gihoera atogoria atu gioragia muthenya ugakinya re…

(I sleep praying for our leaders asking when the day will come…) The song will go on…

This week on Monday I got a chance to attend an ICT launch at a public park in Nyeri town where we were launching a free WI-FI on a public park. Our country is growing and this is good for business because it means that all of you will click on my website each time seated at the park next to a guy selling ice cream on a cold day and another painting toe nails on a muddy day, but you will click on dennispetersblog anyway. Maybe to pass time, or you are a loyal reader or for free public fast internet either of your reasons. You will then go ahead and clutch your coat tightly around you and bury your hands deep in your pockets as the late afternoon sun drops quickly below the horizon bringing a sudden chill with the central province wind, it’s the cold season.

So after Mr Politician is welcomed, he begins to give a speech and if you are like me, you will constantly curl your wrist and peek at your watch and wonder when it is going to culminate. And it will make you wonder about these politicians. Like a waterfall speaks, each splash that ricochets off a rock looks same as the one before, yet each is an individual separate word, related to but not the same word that came before and then a silence of silent grumbling as the river moves away from this waterfall, soft eerie humming, perhaps each telling a tale of the experience of the waterfall or just bragging who made the most noise. Now, am not criticizing our politicians, mine is just a simple appeal of entirely forthcoming scrupulousness as one displayed by the dancing women. A single reason for not been half-baked!

See, these women are mothers therefore not ingenious of what is going on. Their unprided enthusiasm is enchanted with prospect that a visit to their home land by a big leader with a lot of connections all through the edges of the government could do something to ease their lives. Perhaps domineering insecurity situations, poorly-carpeted roads or wrecked streetlights just to mention a few. Factors that they have been making their sons come home late or not come home at all. They will not hide it in their song, in fact they will incorporate it to the tone…

Na tutireda chiana citu chiage guka mucii… welocamu…

(and we don’t want our children to fail to come home… welcome…).

A desperate plea to Mr Politician that before he goes back to his neoclassic stone mansion seated on an eight-acre park-like estate and his sprawling empire of businesses and land he could listen to this sad yet happy song of the unfulfilled dreams. Do these dancing women get paid, I do not know because I never asked all am certain is there are not half-baked!

I happen to catch Mr Sam Kairu before the day came to chilly terminus and he was excited about the new WI-FI strategy put in place in the park just like everyone, not because he was going to be using the internet, barely, but because he had memories, told or experienced of the town in the early 70s to late 80s. A time that would be defined as stone-age. Next to this park is a vintage ancient concrete hall. Sam is fond of a good informative story so he explains that it was a social hall and there was a single television at the front, a tiny one where everyone from Nyeri town came to watch presidential speeches. Mzee Jomo Kenyatta was president then carrying that thing that looked like a cow tail and those funny hats. The crowds would be inspired by their new African president through the small television and it would be beautiful and they would walk back home with grateful hearts aware of this new chance they had fought for. A fully baked leader with charisma and the listening of a mother. Baffling.

Back to the dancing wholly baked women in orange uniform cardigans who sit all through the gathering until termination. Mine is gratitude for your intent and zeal, maybe these politicians come back because you make them feel at home before they fly off to the city or Timbuktu not to be seen again for months. You who make them feel mortified for a welcome they sometimes do not merit. You that draw a thick line between half-baked and baked intentions.

Photography and the Writer:

Dennis Peters

Dennis Peters

Dennis Peters.