It was much easier when ministers (now cabinet secretaries) were MPs. That way, one could always tell whether or not someone of note mentioned them somewhere. We are just from shooting some old Maasais playing pool, when I receive a tweet from Phyllis Kandie. I didn’t know who that is; clearly I do not read newspapers enough. She asks me about #UnexpectedKenya and I reply curtly; ‘Please visit my blog www.magunga.com for detailed chronicles of what it’s about.’ Yes, I know it sounds like an automated message, but how can I start explaining in 140 characters what this is about to someone I don’t know? She follows me, and then we DM. Still, I have no idea who this is.
It takes a message from deMaitha telling me how much of a bigwig I have become. I tell him to stop speaking from his arse. Being on #UnexpectedKenya does not make me a bigwig. It is just a thing.
He texts me; Not everyone tweet chats with ministers. We do not get asked for follow backs by goddamn Cabinet Secretary for Tourism!
That is how the morning was spent. Shortly afterwards we go to Oloitoktok at the Kenya-Tanzania border. We are almost arrested, because someone (me) thought it would be a nice idea to take pictures of the border. There is a police station nearby. Some plain clothed police spots us taking pictures, calls another one. By the size of that stomach, I know we are in trouble. Karanja goes and speaks to them, he charms his way out.
The afternoon is marked by a swimming race at Amboseli because, as the locals say, the mountain is sleeping. When the mountain (Kilimanjaro) is sleeping, it covers itself with clouds. There is no sun. Osborne has to wait until till the sky clears for him to get a good shot. So the pool comes as a very good idea. Karanja, with his ashy lungs wins the race (he was trained at Westlands Pri), Osborne comes in second, I am third and Johnny is last (the kitambi was too heavy to move past 50cm.)
Losing that race is a precursor of what to come later in the night. The blog lost, again. This time to another pretty face called Sylvia Njoki. She floored me at the OLX Social Media Awards 2014. That is why there was no life in my face during dinner, regardless of how funny Johnny and his tales of grandeur are. That is why today’s post lacks enthusiasm.
I hope Fortune will not bring it up tomorrow. I hope Osborne will not pat my back and try to convince me that it is not the end of the world. I hope the crew will just let it slide. Just let it go. I like to handle disappointment alone in peace. Preferably with headphones over my head, listening to Brad Paisley, Jessie J or Tony Rebel.
I hope they understand.
[P.S: Thank you Chris Kibaki for representing me at Safari Park. Kunywa hapo kamoja kwa bill yangu.]