Biwott coffin (Worthy 100million) and hearse pic.twitter.com/NKuTMe2jWQ
— Hon. Ham scotsh (@Hamsohcahtosh) July 17, 2017
and say such things like: They will develop at their own speed.
This vehicle is carrying the dead body of a man who, in life, had the power to order any road to be tarmacked or even cemented:
(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DFLSB48XkAIxygG.jpg)
There is this gold plated and 'bulletproof ' coffin doing rounds and I think the little bit I can make of the one in that hearse is differentBiwott coffin (Worthy 100million) and hearse pic.twitter.com/NKuTMe2jWQ
— Hon. Ham scotsh (@Hamsohcahtosh) July 17, 2017
(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DFLkaJjXsAANlpJ.jpg)When I grow down, I will buy a Hummer Limousine and convert it to a hearse specifically for this!
(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DFLkaJjXsAANlpJ.jpg)
Not golden
Not golden
Nicholas Biwott has been subjected to the most awful posthumous vicious propaganda. The norm in Africa is the man was untouchable in life and you couldn't hit him, then you lost, suck it up and praise him.
But lately we release diatribe.
Not golden
Nicholas Biwott has been subjected to the most awful posthumous vicious propaganda. The norm in Africa is the man was untouchable in life and you couldn't hit him, then you lost, suck it up and praise him.
But lately we release diatribe.
Termi, what is the meaning of this for you: "An oryctolagus cuniculus is feeding on my couch"? I think you've had that or some version of it ever since I discovered the dark world of nipate last election season.
“After a moment or two a man in brown crimplene looked in at us, did not at all like the look of us and asked us if we were transit passengers. We said we were. He shook his head with infinite weariness and told us that if we were transit passengers then we were supposed to be in the other of the two rooms. We were obviously very crazy and stupid not to have realized this. He stayed there slumped against the door jamb, raising his eyebrows pointedly at us until we eventually gathered our gear together and dragged it off down the
corridor to the other room. He watched us go past him shaking his head in wonder and sorrow at the stupid futility of the human condition in general and ours in particular, and then closed the door behind us.
The second room was identical to the first. Identical in all respects other than one, which was that it had a hatchway let into one wall. A large vacant-looking girl was leaning through it with her elbows on the counter and her fists jammed up into her cheekbones. She was watching some flies crawling up the wall, not with any great interest because they were not doing anything unexpected, but at least they were doing something. Behind her was a table stacked with biscuits, chocolate bars, cola, and a pot of coffee, and we headed straight towards this like a pack of stoats.
Just before we reached it, however, we were suddenly headed off by a man in blue crimplene, who asked us what we thought we were doing in there. We explained that we were transit passengers on our way to Zaire, and he looked at us as if we had completely taken leave of our senses.
'Transit passengers? he said. 'It is not allowed for transit passengers to be in here.'
He waved us magnificently away from the snack counter, made us pick up all our gear again, and herded us back through the door and away into the first room where, a minute later, the man in the brown crimplene found us again.
He looked at us. Slow incomprehension engulfed him, followed by sadness, anger, deep frustration and a sense that the world had been created specifically to cause him vexation. He leaned back against the wall, frowned, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
'You are in the wrong room,' he said simply. `You are transit passengers. Please go to the other room.'
There is a wonderful calm that comes over you in such situations, particularly when there is a refreshment kiosk involved. We nodded, picked up our gear in a Zen-like manner and made our way back down the corridor to the second room. Here the man in blue crimplene accosted us once more but we patiently explained to him that he could fuck off.”
I don't have much in the way of eftens but I grew up knowing that Biwott was Kenya's mafia don or something and took it forgranted that he had killed a beloved minister called Ouko and a beautiful British flight attendant called Julie Ward as well as all the witnesses/involved, besides looting untold billions of our money. I just recently learned he wasn't involved in the Julie Ward case, so one of my parents or uncles/aunties may have wrongly indoctrinated me on that one.
It's hard now to think of him any other way than as the ominous shadow of a cloud that stretched over Kenya from behind the President for the longest time. That was the unquestioned truth even in my primary school wacha secondary school. Yaani even little kids knew that about Biwott. If it was false, then someone sure butchered that guy's rep in the most total way possible, pun intended. Talk about effective propaganda. I think literally everyone I know/have ever known in Kenya sees him that exact same way and takes those things forgranted in the same way we take forgranted that Moi was president before 2002. May he rest in peace. God only knows what he did/didn't do. Mi enyewe sijui.
He was fingered by Troon. Granted the guy asked for him to be investigated. He was "arrested and locked up" by Moi for a few days - that in itself was unimaginable and spoke volumes about his level of involvement. Time does erase the impact of events and their meanings. If a guy last committed a brutal murder decades ago, was not punished for it and is not named OJ Simpson, there is a tendency to even sympathize with the butcher.
Troon was Ocampo. Kenyans thought he would bring international expertise - but he ended up collating and collecting any rumours - and at end of day denied the victims justice. The lesson we learnt is that to be careful before calling the so called experts.He was fingered by Troon. Granted the guy asked for him to be investigated. He was "arrested and locked up" by Moi for a few days - that in itself was unimaginable and spoke volumes about his level of involvement. Time does erase the impact of events and their meanings. If a guy last committed a brutal murder decades ago, was not punished for it and is not named OJ Simpson, there is a tendency to even sympathize with the butcher.
It still took vanishing and terrified witnesses for Ocampo to go away. It seems like we each pick whatever lessons are convenient.
How can witness vanish and be terrified when they were relocated and under protection in europe. That was shoddy case ab initio that had no chance of convinction. Make-believe coalition of rumours. The victims were raped twice.It still took vanishing and terrified witnesses for Ocampo to go away. It seems like we each pick whatever lessons are convenient.