René Odanga

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The Sharing of Ghosts

We wield such wild, rogue ambition to ultimately be the worst versions of ourselves. Either that, or the alternating opposite, a reposit of both accounts are innately wired in our weary natures.

Maybe the most confusing thing about being human is the inexplicable content of having both attributes. The yin and yang; the virtuous versus the vice.

I don’t think one person ever deserves the merit to be one of only that duality. It’s disorienting, life, we deserve no one and no one can wield the eminence to break your spot of glory in this wicked sentence of life we’ve all commune to see through.

So dear friend:
As you read this epistle, be light on spirits. We all deserve a spark of light in our mortal bones to delight on shy things as those of allies. With them, comes the courage to manifest our purpose in this life and the next; meditate on those unique beings David and Jonathan were!

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Elegy to Living Dying Things

Somethings are immutable facts of life. Simply unshakeable. As immutable as the role of Subaru Imprezza in contemporary human mating rituals. Chief amongst them is this: anything that lives; dies. Unfortunately, this just happens without warning. Or sometimes, with plenty warning. Never matter.

Quite recently, I had the distinct displeasure of being blessed with a front row seat to watch a very beautiful friendship wither away and die. I know. Sad. Okay, tears aside, I noted a few things once I finished watching two people who at one point could not live without each other learn how to pretend the other did not exist. Let me share some wisdom that was forged in the chasms of constant stupidity.

Somethings are not your fault. My friend, sometimes the devil just decides to gaze lustily upon your future with Paul Muite’s eyes. There is really nothing you can do here. If you want to blame

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World (judge)Mental Health Day: *A treatise for those amongst us who aren’t “Okay” yet.*

October 10th is World Mental Health Day. Many people didn’t know that. I certainly didn’t know that. I mean, I knew that under the old constitutional dispensation in Kenya, October 10th was a public holiday dedicated to pontificating to an autocrat but that is beside the point. There is no way I’d watch this day pass me by without me writing a little titbit of sorts so here goes. DISCLAIMER: This post will be written free-hand and will not be edited or proofread. Any errors encountered can be overcome by contextualisation of the part in text where they appear.

I am happy that there is at least a day that is dedicated to discussing mental health issues. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what it portends for anyone in such a situation. In fact, the day itself kind of came out of nowhere and hit most of us out of the pink. I haven’t had anyone walk up to me and start conversation

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In Which I Shoot Our Own Foot

If you think that the title to this piece is wrong, go take a long walk off a short pier. There is a lithe possibility that I came up with it under the inebriating influence of onion and leek soup. Now, if we are done splitting hairs, I would like to get right to it.

I have a serious problem with people believing in me. About anything. Even the simple things like trusting me with making sure that the milk for the tea does not boil over and spill all over a freshly cleaned kitchen (I’m sorry Mum. I have no idea how many cows I have caused to be milked thin.) Whatever it be that you see and say I can do, believe me when I say this, “I Rene will find a way to screw it up.”

But I’m rather sure I’m not the only one with this chronic disease. I am that friend who will pose the worst for a group photo. My smile will be a bit disjointed and will make the entire group shot look like it was a

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I Want to Write Nonsense

Someone once asked me what I hoped to achieve with my writing. I found this question to be a bit annoying and superfluous. But I didn’t say so at the time because I wasn’t sure that that is how I felt about that question. So, I found an answer at that particular time and gave it to them. I don’t even remember what that answer was. Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t lie. It’s just that I didn’t give the entire truth. And if something isn’t entirely itself, what’s the point in committing it to memory? There’s nothing remarkable about it. I have been thinking about that question. And here is the answer I have arrived at…for now.

If I was to be asked what I hoped to achieve by writing, my answer is simple. “I hope to write irrelevancies.” I hope to write things that will be so inconceivable, so unbelievable that whoever reads them will know outright that the occurrences are a figment of high

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Richard

At the risk of sounding excessively pedantic—as I usually do—I will get on with this tale immediately.

Had he not have been seated there; just far enough out of my reach—thinking his smug thoughts and looking his smug looks, had he not have been bigger and burlier than I could probably ever hope to be, had he not have been surrounded by people; around whom manoeuvring would have proven impossible, had I not have been held back by the confines of sanity; which I normally dispense with in all other situations, had the “powers that be” not have seen it fit to deny me the power of height and threatening presence and burly physique and punchy fists the size of barrels, had my professor not have been standing behind me—a man that I otherwise largely respect—thereby preventing any type of rash badmashi from me, had I not have been a Christian at that precise moment; a state that I take much

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Afterthought 1

A while back on this very blog I posted a piece called ‘Look…Here’s the Thing’. In it, I tried (albeit with little success) to address disparities in beliefs and belief systems between/among people. Somewhere in there, a line goes, “Look…here’s the thing…you cannot make anyone see things as you do.” I went on to say, “What’s abnormal…is you trying to defend something to someone who has no interest in you being right or wrong.”

Perhaps in writing like this, I made a mistake. Re-reading that post I realise that I over-used language and hid what I was trying to say. Let me try again and this time I’ll try not to miss the mark.

You see, the reason I’m back on this topic is simple:
A friend of mine is playing with fire. And he has been for quite a while now. And I do not believe in that stupid proverb that if a child asks for a razor you should give it to them. And if they hurt themselves

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In Which I Meet a Church-Goer

Inspired by real events

I don’t react well in high-pressure situations. In fact, to be rather honest, I do not react at all. If a situation is powered by fear, anger or some other strong emotion, I just sit or stand there and do nothing. Well, not nothing; I mean I’m doing nothing, and that’s something. Point is, a high-pressure situation means that I am still, turning it all over in my mind looking for a rational solution to pursue. Just ask my relatives, they’ll tell you. Or my close friends with whom I have been in sticky situations with ( SIDEBAR: Debbie, remember how I preferred to chew gum than negotiate with cops?) And if you don’t believe them, just ask the guy who stuck a knife to my ribs and made off with…well…stuff. If you can find him. And if you can find him, tell him to give me back my phone. My Angry Birds score is not going to increase itself dammit!

SETTING: Sunday

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Look…Here’s the Thing

Look…here’s the thing, or at least here is where I think it should be, a time will come when you will question every single thing you have ever believed in (surely, it has to, else what’s the point of believing in anything to begin with?) Whatever it is that you believe in, you will one day question it. Alternatively, it will be questioned and interrogated by someone else; and trust me this is easier to handle because you can just shrug your shoulders and walk off feigning deafness. Do not be afraid to question what you hold dear. There is no shame in it. Question. Ask. Wonder. It doesn’t matter. Or there is no point to it and then “belief marks the end of reason.” The point cannot lie in the believing of whatever, it has to lie in the reality that after the interrogation, you either hold dearer to your belief, remain as you were before, or you find it flawed and let it go altogether

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