Recycled | Random Thoughts pt. 3

I was just thinking about this rant. It's from a little over four years ago, when I was applying to college and trying really hard to convince my mum to let me go to Europe for university. It's interesting that all my reasons for wanting an accent still stand (but my perception of a US accent has definitely grown). I haven't edited it -- although I should -- I wanted to preserve my 18 year-old voice, comma errors and all.

I really should come up with a proper title...

I am shopping for an accent/twang (yes, the word is ‘twang’ – I looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary). Of course not the kind that suits me like a pair of purple contact lenses, which if you have, I'm sure look good on you and which BTW I am still going to get, just the sort that when I open my mouth to talk, any of the following happens:

1. I get a job at one of our bigger media houses, noticed how lately anyone in the media has at least an accent or a twang? What really blows my mind is the inconsistency of the pronunciations. The Kenyan-twang is a mish-mash of all available accents: American, British, Australian, French, Mandarin- you name it. Basically, what yours sounds like to others depends entirely on what phonetics you choose to borrow from whatever region.

2. I get prompt service at Java, especially the one in Adam's. What's with them? Do I have to look foreign to get service? And you wonder why I sit for several hours, use your free internet and leave without ordering anything- you owe me at least that much, you biased people!!! It’s not so much as to get prompt service, than it is about gloating. Clearly, being that the colour of my skin is very far from not-black, I would still get ignored. However, I would derive so much pleasure out of complaining to one of the waitresses in my foreign tongue- make her feel the pinch of losing that forex money, and make sure her manager feels the same pain, only three times more.

3. People try to remember my last name if I had introduced myself, try to learn it if otherwise, or befriend me because you never know what MP, Minister, Ambassador or other prominent person spawned me and paid ridiculous tuition so that I attend school in a foreign country. Even though on further exploration of the fact, there exists a miracle known as Financial Aid, which means that the tuition need not be expensive but who cares? It is quoted in dollars and pound sterling! There are added benefits to this get-to-know-you-better; complimentary tickets and invitations to lavish parties, where I have to sit through another session of mixed up twangs. On that note, I love those people who twang with a shrub. I mean “Wow W, tharr is such a rovery dress. I should nget me one of those sometime.”

So as I shop, I wonder, Kenyan English with a hint of British? Because granted, Europeans have more class. Ama I go for good ol' American and sound like I watched too many movies and listened to too much Hip Hop? Note, the point is not to come off as a fake but a more 'polished' form of myself.

Obviously, as with everything there are downsides to all this adaptation. It isn’t all too glossy. Because once I take on my new talk, I am bound to lose a few “friends”. People that are obviously cut from the same judgmental cloth as the new crowd that I will be hanging out with. You know the guys that claim I am not “down to earth, anymore” or those that think, “she feels hot and snubbish, nowadays”. Why would the way I talk change anything about the experiences we would have shared so far?

While I'm at it, I need a whole new wardrobe. What's the point of having a ka-accent if I lack the fashion sense of my peeps from whom I borrowed the accent?

I was so much funnier when I was younger. He he.

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY U.S. CITIZEN FRIENDS

For what it's worth, your country has a democracy that works. With all the bickering and Washington drama, I know it doesn't seem that way. But (I'm about to pull the "I'm from an African country -- pity me" card) I come from a place where, erm, our politicians really are pigs. So much so that we call our Members of Parliament, MPigs. Because they are only after their own interests. Indeed, that is what politics is about, but your politicians at least consider their constituents. Sure that might be big oil and not the farmer in Idaho, but at least they care for other people besides themselves and their bank accounts.

I'm sitting here watching jealously -- like a kid at recess who doesn't have toys, watching their classmate play with the flashiest Lego set -- how you have thousands of people engaged in the political process; how much, regardless of the left/right split, your politics are about more than just tribal affiliations and what part of the country the representatives are from; how much fun speeches can be because the people writing them, and the people delivering them, are extremely passionate about what they believe in.

This is me, as the kid who can't get the flashy toy, asking you, the kid with the awesome Lego set to please, please, please, build the living daylights out of that set. You have that privilege, use it to the max. Please, register to vote if you haven't. Register for an absentee vote if you aren't close. Please go out and vote on election day. (Heck, you guys have an electronic voting system!) You may think you don't care, please care. You may not realize it, but politics dictates even the air you breathe. Figure out who's closet to the values that are most important to you and go for that guy. Decide for yourself, don't let anyone dictate your choice, and please, please, go out and vote.

Signed,

Me and my Kenyan friends watching the election process enviously, and all other people around everywhere wishing they could go out and vote.