Sex? Just Like Obama, Yes We Can.

O...Bummer! *Runs away from the N(A)SA*

“You have 18 kids? Do you pay child support?”

“I can’t pay no child support! They [the women] know…” he can’t afford it, says the very 'ign'ant' black American-sounding young man.

“What about contraception? Is that not an option for you?” responds the bemused inquisitor, to the amusement of a live crowd, from the cued laughing sounds of it.

“I was young…and ambitious.”

This was an audio recording played yesterday morning on my trustee @105.5XFM, the everyday all-day Kenyan rock-head’s station. Of course I don’t know that the perp was black, nor do I know that the inquisitor was white. But: suspicions a-sneaky, my mind a-freaky.

Now think about it. Is this kinda brouha (because the last ha was deemed inadmissible to sense) not the very crap we allow in our society when we consciously ignore any and all talk about sex? Forget that he has a whole football team, nay, an entire changing room, of children. They could probably play a game of 11-aside, with the women part of the teams, and still have enough bodies leftover to play linesmen and part of the fan support. As the man plays referee, since any self-respecting football fan will tell you that the ref is the biggest fool on the pitch.

I’ll admit to being sorry, however, for being so overly presumptuous as to figure the man could actually afford all the equipment required to facilitate this kinda game, let alone a Sunday dinner complete with cornbread and some Kool Aid. Because drinking Kool Aid makes you Kool, nigga!

See what we do to ourselves, black people? Of course there are crazy white people out there, as there are reds and yellows; the KKK and general redneck fuckerries of yore, the red Communist brouha, the red vein-juice regularly flowing in the Middle East and India. But this? This could be avoided with a simple culture of honest open talk!

“Son. This is your penis. If you put it in this…” father proceeds to show Google image of a vagina to Young Turk, “…without this…” another Google image of a condom “…being wrapped around your penis…”

How hard was that? Are your sensitivities now pricked anywhere near hard enough?

No harder than this poor sod’s prick was when he went on a fucking rampage, I might imagine. I sincerely hope you won’t prefer thinking that your daughter is not going to be affected. How do you know? How can you say, for certain, that this, or worse, is not what awaits her in the jungle we cultivate for our future by not talking about sex and the precious gift that is womanhood? Or as one particular wench I’d like to biblically ‘know’ says, her ‘laughter and the sweet scented sanctity between [her] legs’?

Story #2 for Storymoja Africa

Imagine a world in which sex was discussed freely. I’m talking about Vagina Monologues held in the chief’s baraza out in the middle of Jangwa County, in the desert, not in Capital Cities and City Halls. Waza Dunia. Imagine. Your. World.

Is what we have here enough? Can we prevent the proliferation of single-seed families all over our world without engaging our children in better preparation for their futures? And believe you me, sex runs this world, so the kids had better get used to the idea. As should you, dear reader.

Any time I hear or sniff out even the sneakiest scent of sex, I just as quickly wanna sign up for a piece of that action. Take Sunday, for instance. I promise it was after the duly allowed church-going hours, so you can set those anti-XFreddy placards and Red-Armed pitch-forks down. The effigy looks good, though; methinks me likey!  

*wink wink-back at The 150 Shades, me love you long time*

Back to Sunday, and Back to The Future. At least mine, that’s for sure. There I was, seated by my trusty lappy… We’ll call her Lap-Dance™. So there she is dancing on my lap, sailing through the Twitter sphere of life, and voilà: a new follower! A female follower at that, mused my mind. Something about the profile picture and name just oozed femininity.

Now, normally, I don’t bother myself too much with who follows or doesn’t, until, at least, I use a Social Media tool or other after a while and bulk-unfollow any baggage I don’t need on my timeline. 

But something about her Twitter love handle just got me curious. So I shift Lap-Dance™ on my place-that-we-will-not-mention-coz-society-says-so, and click on the profile.

The following is a word for word transcript of what my mind told me, and what I said back to it, in the next 15 minutes:

Mind:            

Dude! This has got to be the Social Experiment of the Hour!

Me:                

Nay, nay, nay, nigger! This one will serve for the decade!

Mind:           

It was just an interesting Twitter handle, with an interesting regal looking feather of a profile pic that followed me.

Me:                                

        Curious, you read her bio.

“Davina Owombre, a Nigerian short story writer. A published author of a
sexy title known simply as ‘Sarah’, in a collection titled ‘See You Next
Tuesday: The Second Coming.’”

Mind:            

The bio said coming. Twice! Further, it said that she would, would ‘Sarah’, see you next Tuesday!

 Me:               

And so you engaged her. Asked her if you were really gonna see her next Tuesday.

Mind:            

Then you immediately sent a link to her, a review I had just finished reading, about her story. Sometimes you can be such a nitwit, Me.

Me:                

Yeah, right. I didn’t hear you complaining as we sparred on, did Davina and I, segued in jest...

Mind:            

But whose idea was it to request a trade? One of my stories, for her 'Sarah', remember that, nitwit?

Me:                                

One of ‘your stories’? Are you kidding me right now? Who types them out? Do you fool? And will you stop calling me nitwit, nitwit?

Oh well…let the two of them keep on arguing. You and I, dear reader, can be happy to know that, as it turns out, Davina said yes. She sent me a copy of ‘Sarah’, which began thus:

“A sweaty cowboy staggered up, grabbing a chair. The cowboy still on the floor crawled toward the bar. Other cowboys in the room went wild booing and cheering. The chair-grabber raised the chair and broke it on his opponent’s back.”

The ending, however, was less Coward of the County, and more Hero of the village:

“Sarah smiled her new special smile. And she parted her legs ever so slightly to reveal white underwear only he could see. Ani settled down to read.”

The short story was effortless, Davina’s scenes so flawlessly curved out that they formed a mental picture as they oozed out of the page straight to my eyes. She is now in my box :) 

The gmail kind, just so we're clear. Not the vagina synonym. Or the Kenyan version of it, Just plain little old inbox. And the ‘she’ in this case is 'Sarah'...not Davina.

OK, I lie. The last email I sent Davina, after a series of them between us,  ended thus:

You naughty gal you. Wink accepted. Wink countered, seen and raised with a 

tip of the little Johnny. Or is it the little Akpor?

__________________________________________________________________________

Davina Owombre is a pseudonym that the author of ‘Sarah’ keeps as private as possible (hence no picture) because she had to sort of go 'underground' after receiving a barrage of criticisms and threats in Nigeria for daring to publish a same-sex short story involving Africans long before it was fashionable to do so (we're talking about a decade ago).

She will feature in Freddy’s second piece of the month for Storymoja, every month, between now and October 1st. So tune in, every second Tuesday of the month, for more of Sarah’s wiles ;)

First Published on June 11th 2013, for Storymoja Hay Festival.

Homo? No Homo. Yes?

Conversations between Opinionated Guys - Straight meets Out ~ Featuring @french_freddy and @KenyanPhil

For this next piece, I almost talked my brilliant Editor Mama on this here One Story, aka Storymoja hearspace, into deleting my bio down there ↓.

Or at the very least, wanted her to replace the comprehensible alphanumerical flow in it, where the numerics are silent, into something illegibly encoded:   ˬ͏֤֟؁؏قٲڂڳ ↓ 

[I hereby declare that a fatwā on my mOngol should there be any iconic Arabic icon somewhere in there would be way too rash, brush and rush…]

For over a month, and certainly longer than I’ve been Wazaing Dunias, akaImagining Worlds with Storymoja Africa for the Hay Festival this September, I have contemplated writing with a gay Kenyan I met in a group called Sanaa, aka Art in Swahili. Story Moja, Sanaa. Waza Dunia. Quite the Swahili Teacher today, amn’t I? [I’ll presume you SWIDT – See what I did there?]

Digressions aside, it was not, and never will be, the fact that he is and has been gay for much longer than I even knew the gays existed, that led my hesitations. Nope, nosiree! It was something less, maybe more sinisterly cynical than it. 

His writing scares the shit out of me. Now I realize that visual commentary about a gay guy doesn’t exactly whet your appetite for what’s about to follow, so to ease your pain and decision-making, let me now play you Should I stay or Should I go, by The Clash:

Should I stay or should I go? 

Always tease tease tease

Siempre – coqetiando y enganyando
You’re happy when I’m on my knees
Me arrodilla y estas feliz
One day is fine, next is black
Un dias bien el otro negro
So if you want me off your back
Al rededar en tu espalda
Well come on and let me know
Me tienes que desir
Should I stay or should I go?
Me debo ir o que darme

Now that we’re done with that nifty nitty gritty itsy bitsy little icky, I have two ideas that me and Phil ARE GONNA write together. They’re both bold moves on my part, sorta pedestrian on his, with the first being the easier pill to shove down my friends’ and readers’ mouths.

Project 1: To do a sorta comparison between what growing up knowing that you’re gay – as a guy – and growing up knowing you don’t subscribe to society’s expectations of manhood – obviously, also, as a guy. The obvious stereotypes will be examined. The assumption that that guy you know, who doesn’t do the weird things guys are supposed to – say sleep with every lassie that bats a good eyelid – is gay. The assumption that that gay guy in the closet – the guy who walks, talks, thinks, dresses, takes and says IT like a gay guy – is not gay, because it better suits YOUR sensibilities.

I want to bring out the dynamics of that straight guy, always hating that he was thought of as a lesser man; sometimes, stereo music typically so, even thought to be gay as a result. I want to juxtapose it to that of the gay guy who has to act straight and hate it all the way; until both finally embrace their personalities…come out, so to speak. It will be the whole 81 miles, forget 9, in my view.

The next piece would be the more controversial one. Because once this little piece is done, I would then want us to do a second piece, one in which we explore what goes on in the mind of a gay guy as he ‘turns’ a straight, and what goes on in the mind of a‘Virgin Adonis’ before his first ‘sinkable’ voyage…it should ideally be in a bedroom setting.

Now I know what went through my mind as I got into my gay friend’s bed for the first time, but I have no clue what goes on after the acceptance, so to speak, of a shagging; so I’d be banking on Kenyan Phil’s ‘sexpertise’ on that, for lack of a better word (who are we kidding?).

I’m glad to say that Kenyan Phil (it just occurred to me that maybe Kenyan Phallusy would be a better name for him, no?) nodded and said “Aїe! Caramba!” to both pieces. Now we can start working towards ‘pitching tent’ and ‘bouncing balls’ of ideas off each other.

Here’s a quick recap of what he had to say when he responded:

Hey Freddy?

Thanks for writing me. I am totally lost on some things you wrote and I will try and get a clearer picture. So you would like me to write about growing up with the realization that I was gay, then you do the part about not subscribing to society’s expectations or do I do both? I don’t seem to find a part I can start on. Yes I grew up, yes I realized I was gay etc… I just lack a base.

I did a shared post once and I did great when I was presented with questions which can then become a story.

Make sense?

In the next one, by ‘turn a straight’ you mean sleep with a ‘straight’ person? Give me questions man, ask the questions you want, ask them all, and don’t hold back.

I feel you have the idea you want to see through, but it is taking a tad bit long to cum to me, make me understand, get me on your page…..

Have a great evening!!

And since the headline already gave you an idea of what this was gonna be, here’s what I said back:

Hey there matey?

(Is it wrong that I keep feeling like I can ignore the reservations I usually have with calling guys this coz it’s YOU? Calling a guy mate, just, erm, stereos and typos…)

I tend to lose people when I go unabashedly no holding back with them, so I’m glad that did not hold you back from responding, or, God forbid (irony), allow it to piss you off. I’m a highly unstructured being.

You may notice that every time I’ve done a guest blog post, like today, it’s usually with the “you write your thoughts and I’ll respond sorta mind set”… I know that can be a problem with flaws in flow, so let me attempt to answer you. You’ll be Skip, I’ll be Yule M2, aka YMM…

Act 1/ Scene 1: Clothes drop, mind free, fingers numb…aaaand sextion!

Skip: So you would like me to write about growing up with the realization that I was gay, then you do the part about not subscribing to society’s expectations or do I do both?

Yule M2: Yes, you do the growing up and realization you were gay, and I do that about not subscribing to expectations. However, as I read what you write, I will throw in suggestions of my two cents, and you can do the same with mine.

Skip: I don’t seem to find a part I can start on, yes I grew up, yes I realized I was gay etc… I just lack a base.

YMM: Start from the part I would think would be interesting to straightees looking in, like me. What did you do during Cha mama Cha baba*? What was nursery school like? Any mixed feeling then?

What was your first kiss like? Was it with a girl or with a boy? Differentiate the emotions in both if you’ve had both, and if you have, also differentiate between first girl and first boy kiss.

What, finally, did it feel like to be out in the open? Do your parents know? (Obviously, I think, they do) How’d they take it? When’d they finally accept it? And you?

Skip: I did a shared post once and I did great when I was presented with questions which can then become a story. Make sense?

YMM: Makes perfect sense matey, in fact could you send a link to the story and maybe provide me the questions asked?

Skip: In the next one, by ‘turn a straight’ you mean sleep with a ‘straight’ person? Give me questions man, ask the questions you want, ask them all, and don’t hold back.

YMM: Yes I do mean it. Did you look at the straight and go “I love him” or “I wanna jump his bones”?

What was his reaction? (I want a story of triumph here, so think back to the guy who tried valiantly but failed to keep your advances off).

When you got to (bed, back seat, tub, kitchen sink, Jacuzzi, rooftop, club toilet *choose one as appropriate*) did he flinch?

(Please let that be a yes… a *puss in boots hands clasped in front of him in prostration to God* sorta please)

What did you do to convince him? How, if he was a ‘virgin’ did he react? Any yelps in pain? Any blood? (I know, call me ignorant)

And finally, after sleeping with him, did you toss him out or did he do you? As in kick you out, he’d clearly already done you. Or you him. What were the two scenarios like?

Or are you Kid Cuddly after c’anal’ knowledge? OK (this one you can lenga if you don’t wanna say) and finally, the idea that anal opens up the faucets and you can’t hold your sh!t together after you do, true?

Skip: I feel you have the idea you want to see through, but it is taking a tad bit long to come to me, make me understand, get me on your page…..

YMM: I hope that helps bruh….does it?

Skip: Have a great evening!!

YMM: And a good morning to you too. You write like an angel man, I have to say, then realize the irony, stereos and innuendo in that statement.

One love matey

(To Be Continued in 1 month's time)

About the writers:

Fred Wambugu, preferably known as Freddy, is a writer/ entrepreneur with a liking for agro ways. Both the loud-mouthed, angry “for no reason” and the arable kinds.

When not farming or talking, Freddy owns of a hard-hitting anything-goes blog, the Diary of a Serial Schizo, is an Industry and Market Researcher with Eronia Inc Ltd. and is the founder of inThync Kenya. 

For more details on the writer, he has suggested that we tell you to scream at him on @french_freddy or Yule Mbois Mndialala. 

Disclaimer: He will holler right back. Loudly. Or lovably.

In other News, does a bio need to have an ‘I’? 

Find out what, who, why, where, when and how the Kenyan Phil thinks he is here.

Middle Finger to The Facebook: A White Lights & Black Holes Missive

I received an email from a friend recently. She claims, with an emphasis on the "claims," and not on the claim, that she cannot write. I have long known this to be a totally skewed perception of her self. And so, in today's brand of Social Experiment gone ham, I decided to shock her system with a response. Not a public response to her missive, but a public display of it, edited as and where necessary.

Sorry love, if you're reading this; but I think you need a wake-up call. And the call is this. Woman! Wake up! You. can. right. 

Thank me after the noose is off my neck, will you? :)

If you feel the urge to, reader, do leave her a comment. I insist that she needs to give her brilliant mind a platform. Also, dear reader, if we are that friendly, you and I, that you happen to by some miracle figure out who I'm talking about, you had better learn the word.

The word is mum. Silencio. Silence. To the graves with it! Closed source. Shut up. Gob-smacked! As in I will smack your gob if you tattle. Like the hood, there shall be no snitching, contrary to which more force will be applied to your tender regions than can be physically borne. 

With love. And...now:

The Letter 

[Editor's edit:
To:          @french_freddy 

From:      Anone, Mass of Wandrous Wonder

Dear Freddy,]

I'm in one of those rare moods where my thoughts and fingers are in sync, so just in case I never get a chance to express this, either because I've forgotten or because I don't want to talk about it, here goes...

*switches off the radio just to write this; hmm ... this must be some sweet serious stuff these fingers want to convey*:

Item #1:

My initial reason for leaving Facebook was to test how long I can go without it. I'd initially made that promise to myself during Lent, but broke it; shattered it, rather. And it made me contemplate upon my ability to keep my word, because I've disappointed myself so many times lately - I'm not comfortable divulging the details right now, s'il vous plait - that I decided to not make any promises that I can't keep.

With reference to my Christian upbringing there is a verse in Ecclesiastes about it being better to not make a vow at all, than to make one and not keep it.

So I went cold turkey on Zuckerberg's bouncer baby on the morning of 4th April, partly motivated by a nightmare I had the night before. I can't remember what it was about right now; when I do I'll tell you. Plus my mind's propensity to over-interpret things saw that date as...special.

Special. It being 4/4. 

So I deactivated my account, and save for this one time I got a text from a friend asking me to check out some event or other, I have never looked back.

You should've seen me that day - I. was. RESTLESS!! I had cultivated this habit of checking my Facebook Timeline after every 5 minutes, seeking indulgence. 

From someone's status update, or a funny video. Or, when using my laptop, from chatting with whoever will be online at the time. 

I could feel the undercurrents of something being wrong with me, I just didn't know what. Logging off from Facebook, and living to see the next day, opened my eyes to my reality:

I was addicted to Facebook. 

It was my link to the outside world - to news, to events. To friends. To anything that will take me further from the inner truth that is inherent in my introverted nature; my propensity to NEVER tell anyone about my problems because I DON'T TRUST EASILY.

Granted, there aren't any Facebook Anonymous groups (yet), so I was faced with the task of looking for alternative means of mwenjoyo.

I turned to my e-books.

While reading a bunch of articles from the truckload of newsletters I've subscribed to, I bumped into so many books about personality - including the "Quiet..." one I e-mailed you [editor's note: which I am yet to read, tsk tsk tsk!] - that I decided to get lost in reading them. 

To this day I still haven't finished reading "Quiet..." [editor's note: pheeew!] yet I've finished reading 3 novels to date; a slow target, considering in Uni we were made to read that same number of books per WEEK. 

Because I'm reading that book intensely. Plus my laptop's dead, so I'm on a break :-)

I've learned a lot about myself from what I've read. Granted, I don't resonate with EVERYTHING that's in these e-books, but if I've not seen bits of myself in them I've seen elements of others' personalities described with such accuracy it's almost scary. 

I'm at the nadir in my life where fear's a non-issue - I've embraced a "Fuck it, bring it on" approach [editor's note: again, pheeeew! You're gonna love what I have hereby "brought on", no?] to the nuggets of knowledge inherent in these texts I've been reading. 

It's opened my eyes, and helped me understand the ideologies behind some of my actions, and others' responses to them. With regard to the latter, it's enabled me to tolerate my immediate family alongside members of my extended family, most of whom have been quick to talk shit about me without getting to know why I am the way I am, and why I do what I do. 

Telling me "I need prayers" doesn't move me any more - I'm losing my religion, a la REM. If you want to pray for me then PRAY FOR ME. Telling me "I need counselling" doesn't help either.

If you knew the amount of anger that's welled up inside when I hear these statements and the like, that has led, to the extreme, of harboring thoughts bordering homicide towards those who spew them from their buccal cavities. I came to understand, later on, why I've been having these thoughts:

I've been watching too many episodes of "Criminal Minds" 

:-)

So "Fuck it..." moves on to "Que sera, sera - whatever will be, will be". 

Live and let live. 

Not everyone is wired to have family as a support system, so I've accepted it and I'm moving on to seeking (psychological) support from a group of people I interact with on a regular basis: my friends.

Plus I'm glad I redirected my energies towards Twitter - my handle's been dormant, it was in need of some TLC.

In "Quiet..." Susan Cain talks extensively about introverts not necessarily being socially inept, but simply being overly sensitive to...stimulation. 

• Verbally, it explains why I can talk a lot at one time then go silent the next.  

• Visually, it helped me understand why I'm liking Twitter right now more than Facebook.  

• Tactile, it made me appreciate why I have issues with being touched unnecessarily.

Which brings me to: 

Item #2:

There are things I have seen friends do that surprised me. No, shocked me, really. I would stare at them like I'm looking at the sky or a photo of a Picasso painting - blankly. How some of them are my friends to this day is a humbling point for me, because I've said really cold things and they still have my back.

I have heard the "Oh you would both make such a cute couple" narrative, by the way [editor's note: haven't we all? No? Maybe just me then]. "You're both so smart, and have so much in common." 

I am telling you all this to get it off my chest, lest it festers into a pneumatic infection. And because you seem to be branching away from the romantic optimists - good for them by the way, and me, because my realistic nature needs such when I need to get away mentally. 

2013 is the year I'm focusing on me - Quality over Quantity:

1. I lost weight because I significantly reduced my intake of junk food (I last had your favourite snack in September 2012).
2. Switching off my phone when I'm reading or before I go to bed helps me concentrate on the content and on getting sufficient rest, respectively.
3. Getting off Facebook has diverted my focus from the need to attend to 800 odd people because they're in my Friends List, to those I regard as my bosom friends who I communicate with via e-mail, Skype, call or SMS. 

So...so far Freddy I can say that I feel the slow but steady inflow of peace in my being. And I'm loving it!! Being alive rocks! 

Item #3:

You know I love you like I love myself - and you know that I love myself A LOT [editor's note: I'm counting on you remembering those words when you see these words published].  

So I was quite concerned when I saw you smoking again [editor's note: shit. now everybody knows] and especially when you said you're smoking again A LOT. Wallahi I can hunt down that Irrationality Switch I lost in some section of my brain, and start going HAM on you and yours like those chicks on Gossip Girl. 

If nicotine is what gets your juices flowing, then...do what you must. 

*shrugs shoulders* 

But let no one, NO ONE, even me, ever influence your decisions to give up on stuff that's going to mess up your health, physically and mentally. 

While I'm on a mothering note please note that I need God-papa to stay on this earth for more years, to tell my children good things about me. Though we will NEVER tell them about the things that went down in their grandfather's car in 2012 - we shall DIE with that info! [editor's note: especially how I lost my phone that night...]

[editor's note:

 Signed,

Anone, Mass of Wandrous Wonder]

Cometh the Hour Cometh the Money – Mentoring The Next Generation of Creativez

       

: Courtesy of a #CreativesMeetUp by @TheCreativez

The evolution of startup fever in Africa is fast upon us. And with the Internet leveling the playing field for entrepreneurs, at least in the way of resources, it's safe to say that we the entrepreneurial few have no excuse whatsoever in our endeavours to make money, create jobs and build legacies. None that matter, and not in Kenya anyway. 

Why? Unless you've been living under a rock somewhere far far away, the intense hullabaloo on entrepreneurship will hardly have escaped you. It's in the Media everyday, on the Blogosphere every two seconds and - more relevant to this discussion - there have been myriad forums, conferences and meetups all over our celestial corporate sphere. Especially in Nairobi.
  


Seasoned thinkers and startup kings - the two, by the way, are not mutually exclusive - have poured in their opinions, intelligent and otherwise, on about every single aspect of starting [and running] a startup. There are business model generators accessible at the click of a button, inspirational videos with a futuristic blend of ideas, not to mention the very laudably celebrated TED Talks.

Nonetheless, an intelligent opinion - however brilliant - is still a guess. Mentor advice comes from so many corners to the young Kenyan entrepreneur, and should be considered mutually exclusive. There is, additionally, a wide array of agendas at play wherever mentorship is involved, ranging from innocent service to the obscenely manipulative...and everything in between.  

I read this post on econke titled Positive Role Models, the Endangered Species and found the following excerpt ridiculously appropriate, given the serendipitous nature of it's discovery:

Be a Role Model, Fill in the Void

I don’t care [about] your current standing in...society - the fame, money or even power.  [Nor] your awards, records broken or games won. 

If you are a lousy person, then you are a drag, shame, and curse on society. Your immediate family...your friends may subscribe to your antics...laugh at your behavior. [N]one of that, not even those trying to conceal your behaviour will change this fact. Period.

Bravo! Not only is it well said, but as any streetwise businessman will tell you, the amount of shafting currently ongoing in the nation's business scene dictates that you choose your partners, and mentors, with an almost supernatural degree of ingenuity. Much as there is a plethora of peddlers of the idea that "We’re all in this together – Mentoring The Next Generation", a good degree of that unified front is nothing but a front.

There are, however, a few genuine parties out there; A Few Good Men [and Women] whose dedication and business pedigree has been tried, tested, and over time found to be anything but wanting. One such forum is The Creativez (@thecreativez on Twitter). In my book, this far, they live up to their profile info on Twitter:

A community dedicated to building Africa's widest network of Creative Professionals. Follow us for news, events and more.

This Sunday at the *iHub_, I was dragged to what would be my second Creativez Meetup, having participated in the articultural forum's 1st quarterly Catchup earlier in the year. I was about to get an education that would last a lifetime.

Assembled was a panel of speakers whose combined TV broadcasting acumen and sales instincts appeared to telekinetically move the crowd to silence. No? Maybe just me then. Select members in the panel did, however, have an unrivaled sense of theater in their presentation, most notably Julian Macharia of Buni TV.

Panelists

Julian Macharia

Esther Chiaka

Desmond Orjiako

George Kimani

Also among them was Michael Onyango, Vice Chairman of GOK's Creative Content Taskforce.

 Target your audience

The beginning of the forum focused on a discussion of local content, and the implications of the much publicized Digital Revolution in Kenyan TV. The concensus, however, seemed to be that more channels do not mean more viewership. Business opportunities will undoubtedly increase in TV, but as one of the panelists noted, Digital TV will not improve content; good producers/ writers/ filmmakers will have to do the walkaround and find out what their audience wants, then turn that into content.

From Quote Factory

Relevance engages; forget the technology

We need to tell more good stories, and tell them well. Julian noted that the most successful local shows have not necessarily been the best quality; they do, however, have everyday characters and storylines that Kenyans can relate to. The I-can-make-your-life-a-living-hell watchman (Papa Shirandula), the infuriating cop (Inspekta Mwala), the indomitable stay at home mother-in-law... Gulp.  

Content is a product 

Anyone who considers themselves a 'creative' tends to walk around with an air of 'loving my job' emblazoned on their forehead, convinced they are god’s gift to creativity. A creative's ego and their passion are two regions separated by a boundary about as volatile as that between Pwani and Kenya. Remember while you create, however, that your content is a product. You wouldn't create a soap nobody wants to use and still marvel at its beauty, now, would you? 

Collaborate; and accept oblivion

Michael noted that the creative industry is 'a thankless job', where coming to the fore and expecting to be credited for every effort often results in questionable intentions. At the end of the day, a good product will sell its creative team. Many creatives, including some I am personally acquainted with, will only work together when they assembled separately by the corporate equivalent of Big Sam; a situation that results in a good tonne of content produced without being marketed. In other words, zero work.  

Creative Content is a Business 

What we have in Creativity as Kenya's Film and TV Stakeholders, we lack in Business and Distribution know-how.The tendency to remain attached to our content comes in the way of turning our creativity into a viable commodity. The money, however, will not just come to you. You need to have something solid when the pitch is required. That way, cometh the hour...cometh the money.

Listen; it's a part of the creative skill set

 

I was going to add 'to your elders' in that subtitle, but I realize listening in itself is about as alien a concept as you may introduce to a creative. The fact, however, as was noted by Esther in the presence of her father and boss - Desmond - is that they’ve been talking to the very customers you may need to target. Since before you were born. And they have a right to have an opinion. And ignore yours. 

The crew assembled at the *iHub_ did not, however, ignore. Quite a tonic, I might add. I did get to interact with a couple of them; in fact, to echo Julian's sentiments, I 'threw my love out there and followed the girl who showed interest'. With some promising results, I might add.

Ideas worth listening to? 

• Mike: Kenyan film is underrated because we are not positioning ourselves. We. Need. To. Up. Our game. Period. Quality is in Kenya; quantity is in Nigeria.

• Julian: Kenyans are very selfish. And very aloof. You don't have to be on the landing page of the website for your talent to come through. 

• George: Kenya has never told the MAUMAU story; we have not yet told the statues' stories. It's about time we looked back into our history.

• Esther: You need to start somewhere. Do your time. And go back to school. Education, education, education!

• Desmond: Mold the present to build a better future. You need to produce as much as you consume, complement each other instead of always competing.

*

So if indeed you do consider yourself a creative, turn up for one of these Creativez sessions. It may be the only step you need take before your career trajectory as a creative content producer/ marketer is permanently changed. For the better.

Lessons Learnt

• Don't just land in the market with a product. Do the background work; ensure the content is necessary...and commercially viable.

• Don't choose your money...or your customers.

• Develop your strengths - don't chase the pot of gold and forget the journey.

• A wide screen just makes a bad film twice as bad. - Samuel Goldwyn.

• Kenya will be showcasing her cultural heritage to the 2014 Smithsonian Folklife Festival, at the National Mall of the U.S. in Washington, D.C. for ten days.

• So get the work done. Put together something solid, a pilot Mr(s) Creative. Now.

Suggested reading

Biashara by Roomthinker
Startup lessons learned
The Startup Owner's Manual by Steve Blank
The Path of Warriors and Winners by Steve Blank 

Forget B-School, D-School Is Hot: 'Design Thinking' Concept Gains Traction as More Programs Offer the Problem-Solving Courses