Oily Dreams.

As I sit here and watch the leaves turn brown from green and black from brown I can’t help but Imagine how daft the thought is. The only thing changing color here is my laptop screen as it goes from bright ‘something’ to dull ‘something’. ‘Something’ because it’s a fact that everything has a space in the 16 million colors we have. I just can’t deduce which one this is, being able to notice slightly over 2 million. I assume this is among the remaining 14 million which I have no slightest clue which they are. A cool well thought consolation. There are no leaves outside my window, no self-respecting seedling would allow a tree to sprout in the concrete jungle I reside, and again I am on the fifth floor. The thought of a tree this tall scares me. Drives my mind all the way to Amazon. Where a cool Anaconda is lazing around having the purest of air blow through its nostrils. The thin scary slits, kind of Lord Voldemorts. Such a fine dandy life.

 

Still on those leaves, blown by the nightly wind over the open spaces. One will land on a garden, and a dung beetle will land on it. It will stick, slowly dying, a slow painful death. It will change to deep black, decomposing. Integrating on to the lazy soil. Lazy because it just rests there whether it’s raining or scorching hot. This is just a wild thought, of how I will be sitting on a farm somewhere, someday. Because am a dreamer, and insomnia has many adverse effects not scientifically proven. Most of which include day dreaming at night when nobody is awake and everything is still. And it feels awesome to draw these dreams on this digital paper. It makes them seem real and if they interest me enough they find themselves on my blog. This also gives you the courage to keep dreaming. Concocting visions, dismantling facts into myths and vice versa.  I can picture what would happen if I strapped a small rocket on vultures back. A real vulture, not the big ones which reside somewhere along parliament road. It would not need to use its wings; it would not tire in the endless search for leftovers. Life would be pure bliss. But dreams die.

Yesterday proved to an awesome day for Kenyans, especially KOT. #TurkanaOil trended worldwide. Once another reason why twitter should have Kenya as a trending location.  They discovered oil in that once god-forsaken land. Not so since yesterday. It is a liquid gold mine. One that has a very high chance of propelling our beautiful country to bloody heights, literally.

Oil has proved more than once to be a curse for African countries. It comes with money and bloodshed. Sudan is a good example. If the south lacked the deposits of oil. It would still be the largest country in Africa. Physical size, not brain wise. Darfur would not be such a mess and it would be even less famous. Bashir would not be treasuring the few chances he gets to step out of his country. Hague would have nothing to do with his sorry ass. Right now all they want is to kick it.

Nigeria is another sorry example. Niger delta is a haven for cartels. They wield machetes, slaughter  one another and kidnap the rest. It actually seems romantic were it not so gory. I hear pangas are already being sharpened in Uganda and the oil was only discovered last year. Watch this, those oil magnets from U.S.A  in guise of army are already streaming in searching for Kony after that Kony 2012 thing went viral like a university porn clip. We all know what they are there for and Kony is not the reason.

Those ones we have in Nanyuki should start packing up. Lest they develop an interest in the cattle rustling which goes on in Northern Kenya. Then they would request for a backup and bam. Before we know it the big brother is already here and pushing the whole country in to war. Freaking Americans.

We have a host of other countries in Africa with the same answer to  the simple math that is oil+stupidity+corruption+mismanagement = Bloodshed.

We have all been harboring that oily dream, somewhere. Prospecting has been going on since time immemorial. Now we have struck it. The dream is a reality. We can kill it or nature it, because dreams die.