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Last week I placed a bet on two Friesian cows on Brazil winning against Croatia in their quarter-final match in the ongoing FIFA world cup.
But I lost the bet after Croatia won the day. Consequently, I sacked my Kawangware medicine man who had been predicting the outcome of matches for me.
Understandably, I was in a foul mood at Gachuiri Beer Garden in Uthiru on Friday and Saturday.
The loss of two fully-grown milk cows is not a small thing. To express my anger, I insisted that everybody must speak to me in perfect English.
I forbid other patrons from greeting each other in my presence using the incorrect phrases: hallos, good mornings and Saseni.
Further, I banned them from referring to me as Bazuu, Mzae or any other slang that is not in standard dictionaries.
To stress my seriousness, I promised to slap anybody who would henceforth request me to give an example of anything with the ungrammatical phrase: As in?
However, I did not change my standard introduction. So, I continued to remind other revellers that I am the Kenyan legend and one of the most learned men around.
This is because I have read Gideon’s New Testament and the Collins English Dictionary from cover to cover.
In addition, I only fear God, hot porridge and the metal studded Masai clubs which can crack my skull with little effort. Lately, I have started fearing all manners of sports betting.
As I grieved the loss of my two milk cows, my Chama members Rasta, Mandevu, Gachoroge and Cobra kept a safe distance.
As patrons in any lounge often do, they would remotely “send” liquor to my table through waitresses to suppress my underlying conditions of tonsillitis and laryngitis.
As part of my healing strategy, I changed my usual liquor to a cocktail of two tougher spirits.
After keeping aloof all evening on Friday and Saturday morning, I began thinking clearly.
My mind was full of solutions and my voice cleared. But before I could give a free lecture on current global issues, a young fellow approached me and made a strange proposal.
He suggested that, at a fee, he could raise my profile on social media to an extent that I would be as famous as a village bull that attacks people.
The guy was armed with only an iPad but he claimed to be a famous social media influencer.
It took me precisely 21 minutes to understand his trade, go through his Facebook, Instagram and TikTok accounts and decide to keep him at arm’s length.
From what I saw, I was convinced that I was dealing with an escaped patient from a mental hospital. “Did you hear that I intend to run for an elective office?” I asked him.
The chap said that he would help me to get greater visibility that would push the numbers of my readers high. Well, I gave him Sh200 fare and advised him to disappear from my sight before I lost my temper.
Watching the purported social media influencer running away, I smiled for the first time in 48 hours. I joined my Chama members Rasta, Mandevu, Gachoroge and Cobra and we analysed the young man’s proposal.
I reported to this elders’ council that I was not boarding any lunatic’s social media account under any circumstances.
In some of his short videos, I have seen him in a woman’s skirt doing some dance moves that are strictly reserved for women.
Scanning through his posts, I did not see anything approximating a social cause, civic education or general enlightenment.
Rasta, who was a radio salaam fan in his days, said that social media has perfected the means of communication but created confusion about content.
He dismissed modern social media influencers as peddlers of scandals, the daring and the unbelievable. “What rallying call do they sign off their posts with? Nothing!”
In Rasta’s days, every salaam fan would sign their cards with an upbeat message such as: keep on keeping on, I love you all and let’s keep up with the (greeting) trend.
In those days, radio salaams fans rode on their fame to endorse positive behaviour and social initiatives such as environmental concerns, education and health campaigns. These were the real change influencers.
I agreed with Rasta. Modern social media influencers have not distinguished themselves with any great community cause beyond the noise of whistleblowing and scandalising people.
Their accounts are like repeater platforms for rebroadcasting issues that are not right than any proactive initiative for change.
Certainly, I cannot allow my articles to be posted alongside the young man’s pictures and videos of himself while shirtless, eating lizards and even daring a goat for a head-to-head banging contest.
People would have trouble accepting that I am a learned man.