What Jennifer Did- A movie on Netflix.

                                               Image Courtesy of Netflix

Jenifer Pan is an only child of Vietnamese immigrants living in Markham, Toronto Canada. One night she reports to 911 a home breakage by three men.

Hann Pan the dad is shot and in a coma while mum, Bich Ha Pan is shot  dead.

Back story. Jennifer lied to her parents for four years that she was in university studying pharmacy. She did not qualify for university.

Jennifer Pan was an average student. She did not perform well in school. She was a constant disappointment to her parents.

They did not trust her to make the right decisions. One of her bad decisions was a relationship with Danny Wong a fellow school band member. She started dating Danny in high school and the relationship was not approved. Her parents were restrictive. They did not want her to date him because Daniel Wong had become a drug dealer and probably not anything close to the son-in-law they had hoped for.

This Netflix documentary tells the story of what Jennifer did. Sadly, after interrogation by detectives, her story of events of the night do not add up and she is soon arrested and accused of her Mum's murder and her Dad's attempted murder. She is charged along with her ex-boyfriend.

It turns out that she had planned the murder of her parents to get out of a situation she found herself in. She had lied about her grades in 12th grade. Which led to another lie about her four years in college.

She did not tell her parents that she failed her 12th Grade maths and did not graduate high school but she made a fake diploma. She fakes her University admission and 4 years later they believe her. She lied that she got a full scholarship to study pharmacy.

No one knows where she spent her school hours for 4 years. She perfected the art of lying and faking her life.  She even faked moving closer to Toronto University to be near school for her final two years. Supposedly she is living with her female friend but in reality she is living with her drug-dealing boyfriend. They fake the graduation certificate too.

For me, the big questions are; were the parents too strict and controlling? The Dad expected her to be a doctor despite her low grades. She wanted to study kinesiology but she did not have the freedom to choose. They wanted her to get into Toronto University but she did not get the necessary grades. Ryerson University was her only choice but even that was too steep for her and she was not admitted.

There is a likelihood that Jennifer may have had a genetic disposition to lie or be dishonest. We may not know this because the documentary does not explore that line. She may even have inherited that from one of her parents but that is not the angle taken by the writers of the
documentary.

Pressure to succed from parents.

My take, is that the girl may have acted the way she did because of pressure to excel exerted by her parents. It is common for Chinese, Indian, African or Latina immigrant children to excel and dominate in some sectors in Western countries.

The same is common in Africa and specifically in Kenya. Some parents set very high bars for their children. Some children are prepared from early ages to aim for courses like medicine, engineering, technology, law and so on.

If such children do not have the requisite IQ or inclination to pursue the chosen courses, many suffer from resentment, abandon the courses and opt for different courses or drop out of school altogether.

Sad as it is that a life was lost and a family broken forever, this is a good documentary to watch for parents and prospective parents.

Let me know what lessons you take from this.

Men With Female Names: A Yoke Around Gikuyu Men’s Necks?

Image courtesy of https://openart.ai/

Lately, we have had a healthy dose of debate on the uniquely Gikuyu phenomena of naming children after their mothers. On social and mainstream media, prominent voices of influencers and public discourse commentators have lent an opinionated voice to the matter.

Some have explained the matter, others have ridiculed the children, especially adult males, some have sought the cover of history and popular culture manifested in the community's pride carried by men's "love" of being associated with their mothers. It is almost made to look like all Gikuyu males love to be associated and identified with their mothers.

The truth of the matter is that this emanates from the high prevalence of single parents (read women) in the community. This can be traced to a seven-year period of the so called State of Emergency (October 20th, 1952 to January 12th, 1960) when the social and cultural fabric that held and still holds many other communities was violated systematically by the colonial government. The community has since been broken, traumatised, demasculinized and feminised; hence the universal entitlement and herd-mentality masked as tribal superiority and nationalism the community suffers todate. There are many other Kenyan communities with single female parents but rarely do you ever hear of their children named after their mothers. Have you heard of Kevin Mueni? Brian Nkirote? John Nekesa?

It may seem like the government's agents tasked with persons registration have a different brief for Central Kenya. The birth certificate is very clear that a child's male and female parents are necessary, and space is available for their names. What is the purpose of tying a man's future to his mother and not his family name. Every child belongs to a lineage and specifically a clan. There is no child without a father; whether he is acknowledged, present and wanted, or not.

Some have argued that in the cases of divorce (which existed even before colonialism came to our shores), a maternal uncle was expected to fill in the cultural role of a father by mentoring his sister's son. In culture there was no void. Why not name the boys after their grandfathers, uncles, or clan names? If the purpose of a third name along with the family's origin (sub-location, division, district/county) is traceability, in 2024 we have technology associated with mobile telephony that can do that easily and cheaply without perpetuating indignity on a whole generation.

Whereas the local Chief could trace any citizen originating from his area, by the family name in the 1960s; rural-urban migration has since happened and for generations many families no longer associate with their ancestral or original homes. Infact searching or tracking the lineage of a Joseph Kamau Wanjiru whose current abode is Githurai, Kahawa Sukari or Lavington is akin to a needle in a haystack.

Female names in Gikuyu are limited to slightly more than the nine mythical daughters of Gikuyu and Mumbi. Male Gikuyu names on the other hand are plenty, colourful, sobriquet, anecdotal, territorial, fame-associated, event-associated, career-associated, descriptive monikers and easily traceable.

Think of Mukuhi, Muirù, Muriu, Mwerù, Ritho, Kaniaru, Njogu, Wachira, Mùtutho, Mùnene, Kòru, Mìgwi, Itotià, Chotara, Igana, Mwariama, Mugo, Munyua, Murìmi, Murìithi, Muthomi, Gitaù, Mùriùki, Ndege, Kairù, Mùkabi, Mùikamba, and so on.

Traditionally women had no fixed abode and could be married far and away from her relatives. It was an abomination to marry blood relatives in Gikuyu traditions. If indeed the government's requirement was for purposes of tracing lineage in case of an accident or a lottery win; the insistence on a mother's name lies flat on its face!

The colonial government needed every adult to be well known and easily traceable to a geographical location and family pedigree and hence all the details necessary then, including a thumb print. It was a humiliating political endeavour along with the Hut Tax and denying male labour access to their families while in forced employment. Robin P. Williams says, "Once you can name something, you’re conscious of it. You have power over it. You’re in control. You own it". If you name it, you own it.

Kipande, later a passbook was first introduced in 1915; worn on the neck by all Gìkùyù males like a dog leash. The tradition of humiliating the Gikuyu males continues unabated almost a century later. It is not enough that you cannot enter a building, get a service, be medically treated, withdraw your own money from a bank, be recognised as a human being and citizen without an ID; but we creatively find one more way to humiliate a Gìkùyù man by adding his mother's name to his identity!

According to Elvis Ondieki, the British abolished the need to walk around with an identity card in 1951. Identity cards were first issued to women in 1979/1980. Maybe before that only school and birth registration existed in government registers and not in a wallet-size document.

Is it not time we gave back these Gìkùyù men their dignity? Is it not time to stop de-emasculating the community's male adults. Is it not enough that the alcohol related pandemic , broken and dysfunctional families already plague the Gìkùyù community without loading them with an identity crisis. Is it not time to re-masculate and build back the communal and family blocks that is the traditional and accepted role of men as leaders and heads of their nuclear units. Is it not time to return the river to it's original course.

Is it not time for a leader or leaders to rise up and point the direction towards amending our laws and divorce them from the original colonial intent of humiliating and subjugating a people. Is it not time for a single MP in parliament to take up this healing assignment. Is it not time for the so-called elders to do more than slaughter goats and wear earth-coloured tunics in the name of kìama kìa mà (council of elders)? Is not time for them to use their influence and lobby their legislators to correct this psychological wrong that Gìkùyù men carry around their already burdened necks?

Who will give back the boys their dignity.

Mama

 

Image courtesy of https://openart.ai/

Every saturday I accompanied mama to work. She worked half day. I did not understand why I had to wake up early and it was not a school day. My siblings would still be asleep when we left the house. I was the last born in a family of three. She worked in an wooden office block as a secretary and I was bored to death waiting for noon when she would get off. 

We would take a bus into town and straight into Blue Room where an ice cream treat awaited me every single Saturday. I would lick my stick clean before we reached a restaurant where a plate of chips always welcomed me. I felt special. While I struggled to finish my lunch, mama would be busy with a friend who I did not take much notice of. He was always waiting on us in different restaurants on different Saturdays. He had a full beared and always kind to me. 

They had intense discussions with mama but I had no idea what they were discussing. I do not remember much but he was always there before we arrived. I was so focussed on the meal and feeling so privileged unlike my two siblings. I was so busy concocting the details of the ice cream flavours and chips taste that I would need to share with my brother and sister to notice that mama was holding hands and stealing kisses with the bearded man. 

An hour later and a full stomach, I would be struggling to finish my orange soda and ocassionally would nap on the seat. Mama would tuck and cover me with her sweater or throw. Without any sense of time, I would be woken up when it was time to go home. 

I do not remember ever sharing details of mama's friends to my siblings or dad but I had a lot to say about the ice cream, the chips and soda. I do not ever recall mama warning me to keep quiet about him, either. But I never mentioned him to any one. 

Years later in my adulthood, I have been reconstructing those moments, trying to see any signs I may have missed. Trying to recall anything mama may have said to me about him. He was never introduced to me. I have no idea what his name was todate. 

My parents are divorced and I have often wondered if the bearded man had anything to do with it? Was mama in a relationship with this man? Was he her first love? Was my dad aware of something. Did mama use me as an alibi? Was there mistrust in my parent's relationship and hence the need to be mama's chaperone on Saturdays?  

Now at 26 years of age, I keep wondering if I aided and abetted a crime againist their marriage institution? Was I an accomplish?  Guilt fills my heart everytime I visit my dad and I want to ask him for forgiveness. I avoid visiting him in his rural home alone. It feels like he can see my soul and the skeletons I hide in there. Hard as I try, I cannot get the right words to initiate a verbal engagement that could lead us to a place where I can pour my heart's content for him to see that I was not party to mama's escapades. 

My dad was a very vibrant, outgoing and gregarious during my childhood. Today he is all introverted, a man of few words though his eyes seem to dance to a different rhythm. His energy seems drained. His limbs are slowed by arthritis that has invisibly sculptured his finger joints, elbows, knees and toes to mock the crooked claws of a drunk bird. 

His eyes rapidly dart back and forth, right to left and back. Dancingly youthful. They seem to be the only organs and body parts from the dad I knew in my childhood. They have a life that age, marriage failure, loneliness have not managed to reach and crush. 

Mama on the other hand has lately become very hostile to me. I cannot recall what..

My therapist says

Mama had a secret account

Depression is real.

Nyabohanse- The Village Where Everybody Is A YouTuber In Kenya

Image: Courtesy of GoogleMaps

I recently asked on a different forum if anyone knew about Nyabohanse; this after hearing the name pop up here and there. No one seemed to know much about the place, so I did some digging up and I am glad to know this amazing village.

---------------------------------------

Nyabohanse is a village in Kuria District of Migori County. The village has been made famous by Fredrick Marwa, a Kenyan Wanderlust who has been traveling and sharing his stories on YouTube for 7 years.

I_am_Marwa has become such a big brand that he has followers all over the world. For 7 years he has made his living via YouTube and we have watched him become a positive influence on his community. Watch his stories on Jalango and Lynn Ngugi TVs online.

In the process, he has turned his whole family and village mates into YouTubers. The sister -Dee Mwango has become a world traveler too and is currently in Jamaica.

They have built a beautiful home for their parents and a major upgrade of their living standards. In the last two weeks, Marwa has also been holding what will be a one-month house-warming party at his gigantic 7-bedroom house named Villa Medellin, after his favorite Colombian destination. He started vlogging in Colombia and hence the attachment to Medellin.

The party has brought the whole world into Nyabohanse village. Many YouTubers and followers have visited his home, village, and nearby Isebania and Migori towns. Many of the visitors came bearing gifts and lots of phones, cameras, clothes, furnishings, and medical equipment have been donated to the village, to individual YouTubers, to Marwa and his Argentinian girlfriend Rucio. There is another two weeks or so of partying.

From his lengthy videos while in his home, Marwa has introduced the world to his relatives and his neighbours. Not surprising that many overseas visitors are so connected to the people of Nyabohanse. They brought specific gifts for specific YouTubers based on what they had expressed in the videos. Many destitute families and causes have been assisted too.

There were YouTubers from US, Canada, Jamaica, Anguilla, the UK, Nigeria, South Africa, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi and it has been a revolving door at the Villa with guests coming in and going. Some stay for a day, others a few days, and others longer. Some have taken time to visit nearby Maasai Mara, and Tanzanian border towns, some have driven to and from Nairobi, some rode bikes, some hitch-hiked to the destination.

Depending on the hierarchy, some slept in Villa Medellin, some in their parent's home, some camped, and some stayed in Nyabohanse and as far away as Isebania.

It has been a logistical nightmare just getting everybody to get some camera time with Marwa and he probably shoots 3 to 4hrs of videos daily to receive guests, and gifts, shout out to blessers and sponsors, and also encourage upcoming YouTubers who are there for minute or two of Marwa's endorsement.

This is as real as reality TV can get and the characters from Nyabohanse have not been short of amazing. I see many growing to prominence and fame and I see many disappointments too. It is a very competitive environment and you can feel the underlying tensions boiling.

Many foreigners have also fallen in Love with Nyabohanse and a few have bought land and plan to settle there so prepare to keep hearing about this village in South West Kenya.

Marwa runs a YouTube Masterclass online and also sells a clothing line called @SoftLife.

Nyabohanse probably has the highest number of Youtubbers, per capita anywhere in the world. Even young kids and probably every young person in the village has a YouTube channel. Including all of Marwa's immediate family- mum, dad, sisters, brother, aunties, employees, everybody. Check out his mum's channel at @congratsmum001 for some entertainment.

Just like young kids in many rift Valley villages know a famous athlete from their neighborhood and wish to emulate them, so do young kids from Nyabohanse! Their role model is Marwa or Dee Mwango his sister. They are millionaires by all measures and worth emulating.

Before your mainstream media catches on the Nyabohanse revolution, I know there will be many stories coming out of this now-famous village. The village that probably has leaped from the last century into the next digital era.

Check out their YouTube pages-

@iammarwa

@rocabreratravels

@babushkakenya

@deemwango

@davidjunior

@congratsmum001

@claudejoseph

@Geenyada

@@Majja_ke

@Burundian_Traveller

@tinamaroa

@ChrisMustList

@MAASAIWITHPASSPORT

@mamagifts

@max.one.from.kenya.

@stanleytheexplorer

@Makena_j

@Charlowkush001

@Lines_ke

@Royalkheem

@hello.Baby_

@iammayuguno

@adebenztv

@kenmacharia

@Mofromkenya

@captainkevinkenya

@Mercysempire_ke

@vinnandleni

-------------------

https://www.youtube.com/live/W97enBzI2GE?si=BmZC3vPnEh5S4SsZ

Is Blogging Still A Thing in 2024?

 

Image Courtesy of @FreePik

My first blog post was on 13th November 2006. It did not go well and I guess being the thirteenth may have had something to do with it. Up to 2014, I was consistently writing articles about my daily life, re-posting articles that touched me and commentaries on Kenyan life.

My blog was named Tekelea, a verb, Swahili word meaning to be fulfilled, to attain or to achieve. In due course, it changed to Above The Din Of Life and lately An Awkward Man & His Awkward Views. 

My first article was published on 13th November 2006 and was monetized on 17th November 2009. 

Coming back here is quite some therapy happening. It is a different world we live in. Back in time, blogs were big and it was before YouTube became big. This was 2006. The word blogger in Kenya has a totally different meaning from the rest of the world. I am glad to see that the dictionary still defines it as " a person who regularly writes material for a blog", further the word "blogger" can also simply mean a person who writes and publishes a blog. 

18 years later the world has changed so much. We now have AI, and social media has become something else but I think I want to go back to writing here and write so much. I will have to google and find out if Blogspot is still a thing. What is the strategy for Google today? Is Blogspot still top in their strategy? 

I will come back here with my findings and the way forward, but just know that I am back and back in a big way. 

My Cottage Journey

"I am the proud owner of a small beautiful cottage in a pristine locale surrounded by nature, laden with all your daily needs of cool clean water, sunshine, fresh fruits and traditional foods. When the world around me goes all chaotic, this is the place where I seek refuge.

This cottage might as well be located in any of the following exotic places- Takaungu, Lamu, Kwale, Mathews Ranges, Kesses, Naivasha, Taita Hills, Nanyuki, Kikambala, Vipingo, Aberdares, Happy Valley, Nyambene Hills, Chyulus, Mfangano Islands, Isinya, or a thousand other such places in any direction you take in Kenya.

I could have moved in sooner, but I especially wish to turn the cottage into my retirement home. I have therefore started planning how I will put it up in the next five years.

This cottage is found in my dreams, but the view from is worth dying for."

In 2008 I wrote the above in a post here. Having set a target of 5 years to get that dream cottage, its now 8 years since but the good news is that the cottage is almost done!

It has been a long journey and I wish to share it with you in one of my longest posts yet. 

Welcome to the journey........

It started in 2009 when I got together with three friends and bought a piece of land near the shores of Elementaita. We did not have any specific plans at the time, but I vaguely had a proposal running in my head. My proposal was to bring together about 10 friends and building holiday homes collectively in some exotic locales of Kenya. I had in mind places like Naivasha, Coast, Mt. Kenya, Mara or Amboseli. 

I imagined that ten families pooling resources would make life so easy and sooner than later the happy ten would be moving to their 2nd, 3rd, 4th holiday homes. They would timeshare and sell their homes to others when not in use. It was a brilliant idea but no takers. I made numerous pitches to friends but all wanted to get their own pieces of land.

So I decided to go alone and started planning my cottage. I did not lack for inspiration. Because money was tight, I started planning a two bedroom cottage. Many drafts were done and trashed. 

In January 2015, I made a resolve to dedicate the next 8 months to building a getaway cottage in Elementaita. I did not need a project plan. I knew what needed to be done. My land was in a remote area with a lot of pastoralism and a fence was the first step of my journey. 

Having done my own concrete fencing posts in an earlier projects, I had 6 moulds and therefore needed to add 4 more so that I can make at least 10 fencing posts everyday. 

I decided to do the fencing posts on site. A gracious neighbour allowed me to use his compound for security. I needed a caretaker of fundi to work on the post and take care of the land after fencing. Raymond was recruited as a casual to work on the posts for ten days. 

On 17th January, I went to Mwariki area of Nakuru Pipeline area to buy sand from the local mines. I needed to buy quarter inch ballast, sand, cement and Y8 rebars. 

Materials were delivered 

There are the ten moulds with a height of 7ft. 

Training work started in earnest 

The results 

Finished, cured and ready for duty Sir!

I Have Lots Of Respect For These Men Who Overcome Adversity Everyday......

Life is hard and we all are fighting one battle or the other. True we do have occasional episodes of some good times when the stars are aligned in your favour, but it seems we are always fighting challenges and obstacles most of the time.

Some say that life is not fair and we should not expect it to be smooth. Some say that the true mark of man is how he handles and overcomes challenges that marks one as a success.

Others like the good people at www.thindifference.com say that life has gifts and challenges. Its your duty to identify your gifts and utilize each them for your benefit.

They say "Each of us has gifts. We may not recognize it right away, or some may take time to develop. Either way, we all have gifts. It could be writing, dancing, leading, lecturing, designing, inventing, thinking, business etc. In our life, we have gifts to use.

We all have challenges. Each of us has challenges. They stare at us each day. Our challenges can be procrastination, disorganization, drugs, alcohol, laziness, negativity, unhealthiness, anger, poverty, etc. In our life, we carry a challenge or two."

In the context of our third world realities, it may not be possible for opportunities to abound for one to take advantage of his gifts.

Two men who are in the lowest echelons of our society and who are my friends have earned my immense respect and admiration for overcoming challenges that would overwhelm many. Here are their stories.

Ernest is a security guard working for a multinational security firm. He plys his trade in my block of flats in Nairobi. He is the first born in his family and the burden of expectations from his family is just too heavy. He moonlights as a carwash guy, cleaning at least 8 cars in the compound when he reports for duty. Between 7 pm and midnight, he will wash the cars and earn at least a thousand shillings from each every month. That meagre amount complements his net salary earnings of seven thousands. Ernest has taken all loans possible from his salary.

Over the last two years we have talked about his desire to get out of the poverty circle. His father has a two acre shamba and with four sons, there is not much land available for farming. He once mentioned that his home is on the outskirts of a small rural town. I asked him if he consider building some four rooms for rental. Construction is not expensive in his part of the country where bricks abound. He took up the challenge and commissioned his young brother in high school to bake the bricks. His father donated some timber for curing the bricks.

In no time, the rooms were ready and the forces of demand and supply soon dictated that a lodging was preferred to the monthly lease by the locals. Although he could not afford to furnish them with beds, a mattress on the floor was earning him three hundred shilling a night. The possibility of earning over a thousand shilling a day as opposed to washing a car for thirty days to earn the same was his eureka moment. He used to call me to chat on how that was eye-opening moment.Soon he was planning to run a pub in the compound and increase the rooms.

Two years later, he is about to resign from employment to go to the village to run his pub and lodging. He is moving his family to the village in the new year. He has a chicken project planned for the wife who was jobless in Nairobi. He will lease one or two farms to grow sugarcane as well as manage a brick making enterprise to supplement his income. He says that he will be busy with the bricks, chicken and sugarcane businesses in the mornings and the pub later in the day.

As part of my encouragement and support, I donated to him two empty crates of beer and an old computer that will be refurbished to house a hard disk of 40 plus hours of music to keep his patrons entertained.

I wish Ernest all the best on his ground-breaking venture.

The other gentleman I have met and admired makes a living in a trade we called "chupa na debe" or "wadebe" in our youth. He buys old newspapers, plastics and metals from those who have more than they need. He is the original OLX though his repertoire of products is limited. Mbogo was brought up in abject poverty and was not lucky enough to get an education. His family had a small piece of land that was disputed and forced him to look for a way out.

Without education, he didn't have many choices and ended up scourging for scrap metal and paper. He soon built a network across the City and beyond into the region selling his papers as far as Kampala. I met him when I wanted to get rid of my heap of old papers and as we were measuring the same we got talking and became good friends over the last three years.

Mbogo today owns a nursery school in his adopted village employing three qualified teachers and earning some money from a business he admits he knows nothing about. He has entrusted his business to the teachers and the community supports him.

He recently invited me to his village as his boy was being initiated into manhood and I was proud of his determination to overcome the challenges he was dealt by life. He has a permanent home and thriving farm on his one acre shamba. And what a transformation- when in the city he rides an old bicycle and adorns some not so pleasant clothes. However in the village he is well dressed and groomed. When I inquire he tells me that in Nairobi, no one will sell scrap metal to a neat person, there is a mental lock we have on who should trade in old papers and scrap metal.

These two men have earned my respect by the way they have overcome adversity and make something of themselves. They have used their gifts and not dwelt on the challenges laid on their paths. Hongera.

Do we let our gifts shine through, or do we let our challenges weigh us down?

Image Courtesy-http://inspirationcafe.org/

Kudos to Safaricom Sevens organizers

In a country where sports events are known to degenerate to chaos with cases of vandalism and hooliganism, I was pleasantly surprised by the deliberate order exhibited during the recent Safaricom Sevens tournament held at the Kasarani Sports Complex.

Right from the entrance off the highway, multiple security checks were mounted to ensure that only those with tickets were allowed into the complex. Media notices were made to the effect that no ticket sales would be made at the site on any of the four days. As we got closer to the main gate, physical checks to ensure no weapons and unauthorized merchandise were sneaked into the stadium were professionally conducted.

Once inside the stadium, there was visible security in the parking lots and along the way to the stiles including dogs. Once inside the stadium there was visible security everywhere. The fact that all fans were issued with age appropriate bands to ensure no underage fans were sold alcohol was a plus and spoke of the organizers being socially responsible. In view of the bad publicity from a recent rugby tournament during which more was reported on the raunchy happenings off the pitch than rugby action, it was only proper that such measures be taken.

I do hope the other crowd-pulling sports like football, basketball and athletics can follow suit and ensure similar measures are taken during their events. There is hope that we can see more Kenyans can spend quality time supporting their chosen sport’s teams. With more spectators coming to cheer their team, I do believe we can be able to make money from gate collections necessary to ensure sustainability of many sports teams.

The only downside at Kasarani was the low turnout which could be due to high entrance fees or due to other competing events taking place at the same time. On the last day, I don’t believe the 60,000 seater stadium had more than 15,000 fans in the stands. In such a big venue, there are many alternate means the organizers could have explored to fill the stadium including subsidizing entrance for schools, police, military and other uniformed cadres who deserve to be encouraged to come to stadiums. Designated seating could have been reserved for such groups. 

Stadiums in other countries also have sections set aside for other special groups like disabled members of society. For a tournament that could hardly fill the less than 10,000 capacity KRFUEA Ngong Road stadium, I think it is a bit ambitious for the organisers to imagine they could fill up a stadium as big as Kasarani.

Being an annual tourney, I do hope that the organizers can consider such strategies to fill the stadium next year.

Otherwise they need to me commended for the good organisation.