A Kenyan story.
In my own space I get to think that rest is as good as change. I sink into the couch and my mind swirls into a whirlwind of thoughts. It decides to take a trip across Kenya. For no apparent reason it’s the six hours down the city of kisumu first. I step out my back bag in tow. With hope bigger than my ego. First stop is on Latema road. Some khan chewing middle aged man of about six feet five talks me into boarding his black fully tinted Noah for my trip down Kisumu. He’s charging everyone in there one thousand five hundred one way but for some reason he says he’s chucking off two hundred Bob for me. Ave no glory to confirm. I think I came out as a poor jobless struggling Kenyan youth. Rather perhaps it’s this irresistible corruption pill. See it charms everyone. It’s like a herb by a Mganga mashuhuri kutoka Tanga that cures lack of love. I seat back left with my bag not on my laps but in between my legs on the car floor. I sleep.
Kisumu is hot as Satan’s hell tunnel for the chaps who were members of that famous Sacco…
And to all you candidates; Success is a journey not a destination. And in the same jargon of success, Effort (The Process) is equal to the RESULT (Product) You can not thus delete the process and promise the result.