A VIP and supermodel’s night at a party and day in court

By George Kagame



A story about Africa involving some important and fine; and even ones that Nigerian legend Fela Kuti called Vagabonds in Power-VIPs is in the offing.

But it is so far away from here that even writing about it is a tough wit game, which is afforded only to a columnist. It is far away in the priorities of relevance, proximity and eminence. But a story is never strange; after all it is just that, a story.

The theatre is at The Hague in Netherlands and Supermodels and cameras grace it with one of those catwalk galleries that are decorated.
And they don’t come bigger or even better than Naomi Campbell; that graceful of women and she is appearing in a de’ja’vu scene where ghosts are playing tricks on her. She even now looks troubled or trodden; I swear, look at her face.

Her cast involves Charles Tayor playing the role of illegitimate African leader and the drama is completed with wigged lawyers; they look like Father Christmas.

I have been in one such court at Arusha where a cousin of The Hague; the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda is trying genocide suspects. It was like a play, life was reduced to eloquent elite debate laced with figures, colours, cars and talk; everyday I walked into that court I was tempted to spit at the fat security guards and even fatter bureaucrats.

But who wants all that narrative really?


A day in court


In other news; Naomi Campbell; she of the long neck, beautiful eyes, even more beautiful legs that stretch up to her shoulders and curves that only God can design. But you can put all that in past tense now.

Charles Taylor drools upon her at one party in Pretoria in 1997, they get cozy and flirt; looking deep in their exotic Africa eyes.

Taylor, in the game of wooing and perhaps even reveling in the benefits of wooing decides to gift Naomi Campbell with a diamond. Read that again; a couple diamond stones.

It is even juicier for us common folk. We talk about cars, houses, envy the fine people and even dream of having custom made women like Naomi. It takes diamonds my friend. Diamond.
I have never seen a real diamond myself and I can’t comprehend why the goddamn stone along with gold is used as a measure of prestige and power the world over. And why they attract women the way pollen grain attracts bees. Hell, I cannot even tell the difference between diamond and silver.


I hear they got the thing aplenty in Congo and it is traded in Goma for just two hundred dollars but true; haki ya mungu, even after visiting Goma many times; I have no idea what is the BIG DEAL. I see hustlers selling fake jewel on the streets in east Africa but I have never bought a stone other than those used in construction.

I have heard that stones have many movies about them, movies about guns, grim looking African chiefs, even grimmer muscled guys with machetes, as well as a couple massacred women and babies’ bodies putting in appearances.
True; in the name of God; diamonds are a HUGE DEAL. I have watched Tears in the Sun and Blood Diamonds both based on true stories.


Forget all that about the oil and its petro dollars ah well, maybe we shall keep the oil secrets for another day; there’s a possibility that Omar El Bashir of Sudan offered supermodel Tyra Banks an oil well; you never know!
I hear The Hague is also keen on getting the Arab man for torturing his black countrymen in the south; never mind that these ones have no stones yet.


Back to our story, think of a climax; no make that a threesome, VIPs and super beauties mingling and flirting a recipe for disaster.
That exactly leads to the scene in the International Criminal Court at The Hague where diamonds, superbeauties, powerful men and parties swing from possible one nightstand and its wits.


Naomi is asked to tell on herself in the court of law, the gift of diamonds from Taylor and their late night party in South Africa; she says: “seriously, I have never heard of Liberia and I don’t even know where it is on the map.”
Never mind the diamonds actually came from Sierra Leone; but that is a story for another day.
Damn it, Naomi must treat diamonds the way you treat your food.


Imagine the difficulty you’d face if you had to explain the details of the food served on your table everyday. Are you expected to know about fries, chicken, vegetables and milk? Who grows it, who is responsible for its constant flow, how is it planted? Are the planters paid anyway? Do they have children?
Hell; even my nosy neighbour would be cautious asking such many questions at every single meal!

Working class people getting along


In fact lets getaway with the questions about fair trade, imaginations and even the self-righteousness. Lets have a good conversation, lets talk about gender relations, a woman, a president=gender and power relations, a presidential backpack that carries dirty diamonds to a late night party and a super model. Working class people getting along

Imagine a black supermodel in England, with all the attention and attraction in the world, then Taylor an African corrupt leader walking about as a pimp.
Ah wait, he is a descendant of freed African slaves in North America who were forcibly returned at the end of slavery and resettled in Liberia and Sierra Leone.


The former slaves in turn became kings and queens in the free countries; they even renamed one city Free Town. Many of the returnees became princes and chiefs in literal and figurative forms. Ever wondered why so many West Africans come with names such as Prince, King, and Chief? Just like you hear those arrogant British go around with Sir, Lord, viscount, Earl and my favourite duke.

The prosecuting team in the case against Charles Taylor is smooth; you have to give it to them for getting their case to the front pages and even hidden ones like the one you are reading right now.
Because would you really not give Naomi Campbell a diamond if you had some?
And; is it not ironical that the blood diamonds were sold and worn in Europe and now it is in Europe that their retribution is taking place?

Of celebrity baby mountain gorillas

Insights :


GEORGE


Zoya is not your regular baby; he is the coolest baby in town. Even I am not familiar with his details but I know of his baptism day. You see his baptism day is so important that soon future babies of his kind will have a national holiday declared on the day they get baptized.

Zoya comes from Citi and in that country matters of religion are very important, make that crucial. So like many of his countrymen, among whose names are such statements of commitment such as sonofGod, slaveofmaria, oneforyezu,godgivesbirth, and onewhotrusts, feature prominently.

As a result, People with such names take matters of God serious and therefore on the occasion that their not so distant cousin Zoya gets christened everyone of note in Citiattends without fail.

Zoya’s baptism party is so important that the first Citiman attends, and no not just him; how about Natalie Portman, Jack Hanna and Don Cheadle, he of Hotel Rwanda?

Damn it, on the day I got baptized I went to the gym right after the ceremony and to cap off the day I went to an evening shift. And these two are so important that a whole managing director of a national daily newspaper has to call me urgently to cover it or else I see the cold of the night of Citi. That is not a predicament you’d want to be in at any moment of your life, or wish even to your enemy to be in. This place can be cold!

As I lazily walk up to these baby gorillas I try to search anything that can get me a story, a story of today. Do they have longer hair, are they smiling these days, do they blink, do they want to ask me; “seriously, what are you doing here?” And maybe even tell me a proverb about my stupidity in their language telling of their opinions about my presence.

But they cannot and if they attempt any games I have my press card ready so I will be explained if Zoya and Wakawaka call for security, wait a minute do they even know about security?

All the posh people, fine people, not fine people, peasants, and the noblemen of Citi show up at the cathedral of the mountain gorilla’s baptism party, each to pay their respects.

The cynic of this most prestigious of ceremonies in Citiwill call it drama; they will dismiss the event and protest by continuing to live their even more boring lives. But people of note know what is important, so on the day that Zoya and friend get baptized, the red carpet is thrown out full circle.
True of God, hakiyamungu I was there. I saw with my own eyes.

I watched Zoya with interest and even tried to catch his/her stare. I could not tell if he was boy or girl. He is a gorilla for Christ’s sake! I cannot ask him, I don’t speak his language neither does he mine. For me he is an assignment I have been sent here all the way from my kingdom in the town and I’m hungry, this place with its forests, mountains and people who are staring at me like I’m a picture.
MAYBE I’m a picture; I can make much more sense without words. They say a picture is a thousand words. People appear smarter before they speak.

So I don’t want to ask the whereabouts of this Zoya kid and friend, and for me he is not just an animal; it his birthday party and that is a story. I have many questions about his coolness. How does he do it, get all these important people to attend his party?

Do you know how hard it is to have a party in your honour? Ask yourself how many parties have been held for you? Who attended, who laughed, who took pictures, were they published in international newspapers and magazines around the world?

Clearly I’m jealous of these two.

I saw earlier in the tent guests were signing autographs, taking pictures, drinks, speeches, laughter and handshakes. I was not interested in all that. I wanted to meet this Zoya. By Zoya’s side was another baby mountain gorilla baptized as Wakawaka on the same day.

Now two mountains gorillas having a baptism party and they are hidden far away from their own fete? Maybe they asked for some privacy and only wanted to come out to wave to the crowd just like Nelson Mandela during the 2010 World Cup in South Africa recently.

And talk of South Africa; that is where the name Wakawaka became memorable with Shakira being its most eloquent acquaintance.

While I was walking towards the ceremony I met a man on the roadside, he is a local and his people have lived in Citi for hundreds of years. He was short, in fact too short that I thought he was a young boy; I wanted to ask him, “Are you married, do you have kids?” Turned out he is a father of three children and the eldest is 21. His second wife is expecting a forth child.

He appeared to be wondering how things in Citi had changed, two baby mountain gorillas were big celebrities, almost signing autographs and he was just watching things unfolding like he was watching a horror movie.


Footnote: mountain gorillas are highly endangered species and need the utmost attention of all mankind, as they are our closest related creatures. So please Giv a little less attention to your cats and dogs and think about mountain gorillas and their birthday parties too.

THE EASTER STORY: GOD IS NIGERIAN, VIRGIN MARY IS ZULU, AND JESUS?

he Easter holiday, the time when We mark the betrayal, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is upon us.
It is thus our duty again, to make sense of this story from a Pan-Africa point of view.
Of course we can’t talk about Christ’s death and resurrection, without taking note of how it all started.
So if the Bible and Christianity story all-African, from which country would God come from?
•I THINK GOD WOULD BE NIGERIAN. Only a Nigerian would be cocky enough to be God. One day, good people, Nigeria will rule Africa.
•I THINK MARY THE VIRGIN WOULD BE A SOUTH AFRICAN WOMAN, SPECIFICALLY A ZULU. Zulu women most approximate the quiet dignity of Mary the Virgin.
•JOSEPH WOULD BE CONGOLESE. He had that mix of sweet naivety and Stoicism which is abundant among Congolese men.
•THE MAGI’S: It is very difficult to place the magi. First, I think they were gay. It's mostly gay men who have magi-type sensitivity. They would likely be from the islands, possibly Cape Verde or Principe and Tome.
•PETER: He betrayed Jesus before the cock crowed three times. To figure out from which country Peter would come from, we need to look to the countries which are most uncomfortable in their African or Arab skin: That is Ethiopians, Egyptians, and Moroccans. I THINK PETER WOULD LIKELY BE AN ETHIOPIAN.
•JUDAS Iscariot the Traitor: Africa is not short of traitors, but in recent times the lies and betrayals that have led to the death of over 200,000 people in Darfur, and the displacement of over another one million, are the worst. JUDAS ISCARIOT WOULD BE NORTHERN SUDANESE.
•The Roman Emperor PILATE: PILATE was a complex character. He wanted to let Jesus off the hook, but he succumbed to the pressure of the masses and had him executed. This wavering between principled action, and acting according to the dictates of opinion polls is most evident in Kenya. And I think PILATE COULD EASILY BE Kenya’s PRIME MINISTER RAILA ODINGA. He is equally complex.
•JESUS CHRIST: This is a tough one, for to be Jesus you need to demonstrate an extraordinary ability to take pain over a long period. There have been many wars and heroic struggles in Africa, but perhaps none reached the extremes of the Algerian war of independence against France, although it lasted only from 1954-62. The Algerians showed remarkable grit. JESUS, THEREFORE, WOULD BE ALGERIAN.
•Finally, Mary Magdalene who was “loitering” outside Jesus’ tomb. Magdalene could only have come from Uganda. And Doreen Lwanga will agree that Magdalene would have been a Muganda woman.
HAPPY EASTER
LET’S PRAY.

WHY AFRICANS LIKE LOTS OF BOOTY ON THEIR WOMEN

The pan-African reality show Big Brother Africa is a few weeks old now, and this time they dubbed it Big Brother All Stars – because they recycled housemates from previous episodes.
Zambian housemate Paloma, with her large backside, is back.
She makes for an intimidating presence. To the uninitiated eye she was not the most desirable woman in the House, but she has quite some following. Interviews have been shown of people saying "she is a true African woman" or "just my kind of woman". When this Big Brother Africa thing was on last year, I went with a group of friends to Club Afrique in Nairobi’s Museum Hill (it has since closed).


Lo and behold, it turned out they were holding the semi-finals of the chakacha dance. Most of the competitors, all female, were slim or medium size with reasonably rounded rears. Then dancer No. 11 came on.
She was pretty-faced, had wonderful skin tone, but she was big and her tummy wobbled as she did the chakacha. One of the three judges, an unflinching dreadlocked fellow, took her performance apart saying, in the manner of American Idols' Simon Cowell, that it was rubbish.


The club nearly rioted and heckled him down. No. 11 was not just the biggest dancer, but she seemed to have the most friends in the club. Women like Paloma and No. 11 will always flourish in Africa, where the slender variety much favoured in the west tends to be sneered at. A man will be ridiculed if his wife has not filled out in the right places after a year in marriage. It could be construed to suggest he is mean, an unloving husband, or a wife beater.


Likewise, a husband who is still thin after a year or so in marriage reflects badly on his wife. She is a bad wife, the in-laws will conclude. In Cote d'Ivore, women inject all sorts of things in their buttocks so they can grow big.
In many countries, even health-conscious women who exercise to lose weight worry about the bottoms shrinking with the rest of the body. As a result, there are many quack regimes for losing weight in all parts of the body, but the "bumper".


Why this African obsession with large booty? My sense is that in poor societies fat women - and men - are fancied because they represent that which is in short supply; prosperity and well being. The promise of an abundant tomorrow. Thin women, on the other hand, symbolise need and scarcity. This seems to be the case, because in Africa there are many women who struggle to be and to remain slender.

However, they are overwhelmingly middle class, where the desperate search for solace from symbols of prosperity one sees among the working and peasant classes is little or absent. One can expect that as soon as per capita income in most of Africa averages $2,000 and above, the prospects for ample women will nose-drive, and the premium for the slim ones will rise. Otherwise, for a long time to come, most thin women in Africa will mostly be confined to dating expatriates, a life of single motherhood, or marriage to men with well-endowed mistresses.

Mountains

The Great Canadian Rocky Mountains

www.newtimes.co.rw/index.php?issue=14338&article=4129&week=30

From the Hammock:


Lessons


LAST week I joined a group of friends to climb some of the most amazing Rocky Mountains in the world. As a first, I learned some important and priceless lessons that I would like to share with you today.

Many of you reading this would most certainly know much about mountains, is it not amongst the Great Lakes Region of the Great Rift Valley that you were born?

Therefore I run the risk of becoming Mr. ludicrous from those of you that might have climbed the likes of mountain Kilimanjaro and Rwenzori, even those of you whose highest peak might be Rwenzori water and Kilimanjaro beer.


The trek

We trekked a 16 kilometre uphill before we started the real mountain climbing, at this point waterfalls spewed from a mountain lake which was fed by mountain springs. The springs gave us the only luxury water bottles would be too heavy to carry; we hid them in the bush.

Observing the features from the base of the mountain was a lesson in humility; there were spots that seemed as though man would never capture them even with his facebook, twitter and Iphone, a place where even the precious wallet and camera were so much weight.

After a while, The crusts and dust of civilization were blown off faces, bodies were indeed interrogated, tortured and manipulated. A temporary victory of the mind.






As the altitude increased even the mind was having ideas of retreat, an interruption in the speech of somebody speaking to another was so much bother. The words that each person spoke as the angle of the mountain became ever steeper and sharper became fewer.

There was energy only to trek and you spoke only if you had to and if you were interrupted it was indeed offending.

I learned that climbing a mountain is as much a life skill and sport as a university degree or even a marathon. You start that journey as a closely knit group but the more distance the group covers the more isolated each individual becomes; by the time you reach the top you are alone and the satisfaction is also beyond words. I never got to the top of the peak but even from my vantage point I felt good and deeply was ego was bruised.

Breathtaking

A breath matters so much that as you climb you save up whatever energy is on your body. After walking for 12 kilometres in two hours we came across a waterfall rising above with its white colour and thundering myths, it appeared both mystical and majestic like the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. You had to raise your head at a high angle to be able to see where the lake was, above the waterfalls. Normally it is the other way around.

The only way upwards to the lake was by climbing a near 100-foot wall of cliff –the chain bolted into the mountain was the only thing keeping you from falling off the mountain.

At this point, a person getting out of their way to give you directions on where to place your foot and where to hold your hands onto seemed like a gift that only mothers give to their babies as they move from crawling on the ground to taking their first steps.

As we moved upwards to ever-sharper escarpments and ridges, holding a rock with bare hands and taking steps was indeed holding onto dear life. There everybody was holding on their own life’s, I’d hear only the breaths of my friends; words became too heavy.

At these moments each of us was alone and the simple decisions of where to step meant a choice between life and death. One mishap would mean falling off the mountain.

The higher we climbed the more we each separated from the group and went into a beautiful loneliness. First David Reize went with his wife Nikayla and after a while even they separated and took different routes.


Never tell the abilities and inabilities ofa person based on their gender

The adage that you can tell a book from its cover may hold true for books but it is far too misleading to be used while describing human beings and what they can and cannot do.

I learned this the hard way. I had initially been scared out of climbing up the high cliffs but when I saw a lady who I estimated to have the same body weight as mine I motivated myself that if she had made it up there; I too would make it. (PS. Nikayla; it was not you, it was the couple we met before climbing the first chain.)

Later I not only learnt that I was wrong but it was also a disrespectful statement to say a woman. While I was talking about this incident with Nikayla, it turned into a big debate about the status of women and what men think them.

I was even scared that it was becoming a discussion about class and race relations. I had to defend myself that I come from a country run by women.

And I never needed any proof about women and their strengths after all. Is it not Jane Mbabazi that raised my four siblings and me?

Mountains have many faces like humans

I also learned that like a human being, a mountain has many faces to it, when you stand at the bottom, the top, and west or wherever you always see different perspectives of the rocks, the gullies, waterfalls and the vegetation.

And they all tell unique and different tales.

AFRICA'S MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMEN - AND 'HANDSOMEST' MEN!

Every day I get requests to do interviews, articles, book and thesis reviews, name it, about Africa. This week I got the strangest one.

I was asked which African country I thought had the most beautiful women, and the most handsome men! The researcher was actually doing some serious work on African aesthestics and how environments shape physical make up.

I will exclude Ugandan women and men in my listing, but you can be sure they CAME AMONG THE TOP SIX IN BOTH the female and male category in the top 10.
So here is a shortened list of the top 6 African countries with the most beautiful women and handsome men.

•MOST BEAUTIFUL AFRICAN WOMEN
1. Malians
2. Ethiopians
3. Angolans
4. Tanzanians
5. Rwandans
6. Somalis

MOST HANDSOME AFRICAN MEN
1. Senegalese
2. Cameroonians
3. Mozambicans
4, Rwandans
5. Egyptians
6. Burundians

*Don't ask how I reached the list. I decline to talk to the press.