If only Kenyan elections were like these...

Last night, I sat up patiently and waited to listen to the final pre-election debate between McCain and Obama. While I admit I was half asleep when it began, I found myself paying attention to what McCain was saying, how Obama was sitting smilingly next to him, taking punches, even as McCain threw harder punches. I wondered at the way the election campaigns were being monitored and how, even a single pause or blink caused the polls to take a dive/dip. Everytime Obama stammered on a word, the graphic lines representing the undecided votes from both males and females dropped, when McCain was trying to swim out of a difficult spot by bullshitting, the dip was so huge. And when both spoke honestly and cadidly about issues, the graphs reached the upper limit.

Watching this, I began nightdreaming about the possibilities it held for African Countries, where physical brawls and public humiliation of opponents was still very much the name of the game. What if we started seeing elections as a platform for allowing citizens to decide on what they wanted, rather than using it as an opportunity to bribe, cheat, humiliate, fight, be abusive, or whatever else African leaders are always upto during such times? It is still a dream in Africa that we will achieve the state that USA takes for granted, where election capmpaigns are organized and the battles do not have to involve or rbuise the public, where citizens still have a large amount of power, and where presidents (potential) are taken to task about their manifestos...

Its a dream world, but a good one nonetheless.

Being foreign

I am still rattled by the police raid. I have been asking myself a lot of questions, including, why did I agree to leave Kenya to come to SA? Before I came down, did I even know about the existence of xenophobia? perhaps in the dictionary, but really, did I really understand what it meant to be foreign?

To be foreign means having to renew visas regularly. Each time you renew it, you are filled with trepidition. Will they ask me to buy medical aid for next year? Will it mean, as usual, that I will have to pay a year's worth of medical aid at once? Meantime, Its the middle of this year, can I use my medical aid for this year? What if they deny me a visa, what then? will I get a letter from the relevant faculty confirming my status as a legal foreign student?

Its always about paying more than anyone else, going through so much more pain, waiting, suffering. even at the banks (foreign xchange) and forex exchange bureaus, where majority of the customers are foreigners, you get that special vybe, like people are doing you a favour by serving you.

I suppose I am okay because I have a choice as to whether or not I want to remain in this country. I can move if I want to. But that will not solve the issue of being short-changed on my rights because I am a foreigner. I wonder how I will feel when I eventually go back home. Sometimes I think I will be treated with contempt there as well. after all, why did I leave the country? why am i back? why couldn't I just have stayed away?

I hope I did not make a mistake to leave my home country. This feeling of alienation is probably always going to be with me, but i hope I manage to handle it better with the years.

Sigh.

Police Raid - Is this even legal?

Today, I caught a glimpse of what people who have been on the receiving end of police raids go through. At about eleven in the morning (I had just woken up, having slept late marking essays) - I heard loud pounding on my door. Yeah, this was surprising, given that I hardly ever get visitors, albeit door-pounding ones. I open the door to this stream of cops. Okay, at first, it was a policewoman, who immediately got into this monologue in Zulu. I told her I wasnt quite following what she was asking me, upon which she asked,

"Are you Zimbabwean? Where is your passport?"

Okay, I am kind of used to the idea that being foreign in SA places me in a certain position of disadvantage sometimes, but even this was new. Surely they should respect the privacy of my home? But no. I told her I was Kenyan.

"Where's your passport?" She snapped.

" In school."

"The law says you must have it on your person at all times. I must arrest you."

Okay, this was not funny. I was in my damn PJs and this woman is threatening to place cuffs on me for the first time in my life, for a crime I wasnt sure I had committed? I calmly explained to her that I was a student at Wits, and if she wanted, we could walk to campus, and I would give her my passport, which happened to be in school. Meantime, another officer had strolled into my tiny kitchen. The first cop kept asking if I lived alone, as she made her way to my bedroom, and opened my wardrobe and things. At this point am beginning to get irritated.

"so what must I do?" she asked.

"You can wait for me outside, I will run and get my passport".

"No. My job is to arrest anyone without papers."

Then i remembered I had a certified copy of my passport. I found my wallet, pulled it out and gave it to her.

"Where is the police stamp?"

"Its certified, officer".

"No, it must have a police stamp". Pause, "so what must we do? Give us something!"

Its only then that I noticed I was being harassed by this woman. The other cop was busy going through my CD collection.

"Are you selling these?"

I frowned. That is my CD collection. Its in a CD holder. It contains different CDs. How could I-

"Next time, you must have your passport. Otherwise we will arrest you!"

"Close your door!"

Okay.

This whole bizzare episode could not haqve lasted more than 20 minutes, but I felt the effects of it. I could no longer focus on the essays, even though I had a one oclock deadline. I am still asking myself if its even legal to do what they did. Or I am expecting too much from the Law? Are surbabian homes raided in the same fashion, or is it just flats located in a particular area? How many more times should we expect these raids?

God, its gets wierder everyday, doesn't it?

And the award goes to...miss kwa kwa

Book: Miss Kwa Kwa
Author: Stephen Simm
Publication date: 2006
Publisher: Jacana

After months of listening to my friend go on about Stephen Simm's Miss Kwa Kwa, I finally read it. And boy oh boy, was it a read! It begins with a typical slowness that marks books of this kind, books designed to make you crack a rib in laughter. The creation of the character of Miss Kwa Kwa begins innocently: Black girl in search of opportunity, even at the expense of destroying one man's life, the King of Kwa Kwa, Pieter Depeenar.

It is a book with many faces, humor, mistaken identities, and stereotypical representations. Through laughter, we are forced to engage with serious racial and class issues in today's south africa. For instance, because she is black, the first mistake that anyone who meets her makes is that she is stupid.

This more so in Kwa Kwa, where racial prejudices are still very deeply embedded, where blacks are only seen as farm hands and domestic workers; where white farmers' wives play bridge, and where white people still command the unquestioned respect from black subjects.

In other words, a small town.

A town that Miss Kwa Kwa finds too small for her. Miss Kwa Kwa is the ambitious alter-ego of Palesa Moshesh, a quiet but brilliant girl whose ambitions know no bounds. She wills her personality to be absorbed by her other side, Miss Kwa Kwa, ambitious airhead, beautiful, and as daft as a blonde doll. I mean, how else would one explain her answer to the question, "In a country characterized by such racial and cultural diversity, what culinary delight do you most enjoy?" to which she replies innocently " I'd like to take this opportunity to enrich my vocabulary and ask you what does that mean?" anyway, the perplexed interviewer explains, "what's your favourite dish" to which, unfazed, Miss Kwa Kwa replies, "Oh I see, I see! My favourite dish is ... Tupperware."

Did I introduce you? Meet Miss Kwa Kwa.

Behind the facade of stupidity, she is as sharp as a razor. She makes her way to Jozi, convinces a TV station to hire her as a television presenter, where she gets fired of course, before engaging in a series of exciting adventures, including her bulling a possible mugger and taking his gun away... you have got to admire her. And I think the best part of all, is that she really believes in what she is doing.

Like when, after losing her TV job, she, wearing her Tiara, stands by the robot with those begger signs reading, "TEN YEARS OF DEMOCRACY: Asking a rand per year".

Trust me, I laughed my way through the pages, hardly putting it down. I can't wait to read Miss Kwa Kwa 2. It should offer me even more laughter, which I have been needing more of lately.