Inathoa madoadoa yothe!

I dare say no OMO advert is as memorable as the 'Inatoa madoadoa yote' campaign. Well, that was just one advert. If you remember correctly, there were about four ladies in different ads for the same campaign. I'll paraphrase the bits and pieces I can remember:

The winner: I call her so because she was the most memorable and melodramatic. By the way she had this wide-eyed look and a thousand Watt smile. What an actress. Unforgettable!
'OMO withi powerfoam is the best! Ndio itakupathia, wath you are looking for. Apenji! Uyu niguo thafuni! This is the dethergent. OMO withi powerfoam. Thry ith.'

Bi Gladys Wakesho alikuwa na haya ya kusema: (Was that Nimrod Tabu's Voice?)
'Kwanza ninalowa nguo zangu na OMO iliyo na powerfoam, kisha ninazifua pole poooole kwa makiiiiiini, kisha zote zinakua safi. Ziwe ni za manjano au nyeupe, zote zinatakaa. Ukitaka kujua uhondo wa ngoma, ni uingie ucheze, hivyo anayetaka kujua uhondo wa powerfoam, atumie!

Rachel:
'Even the neighbour asked! Were looking at them and saying "wooow!". They said "Rachel! What did you use?". I said "Wooow! OMOOOO! Withi Powerfoam.".'
Announcer: Yes. OMO with powerfoam is the strongest washing powder for the cleanest wash.

Fishmonger:
'Unajua kwa hii biashara, lazima uoge... ung'are... ndio utapata customer. Sio mtu akipita, (wringing her nose) mapua!!... mapua!!...'

I think that campaign would make it into Kenya's (nonexistent) Advertising Hall of Fame.

Johni Kibogoyo

There was no better way to silence an opponent in a competitive game (or to wind up an argument you were clearly losing) than to whip out Johni Kibogoyo. The only modification needed was to substitute 'Johni' with the other kids name.

Johni Kibogogyo, alihara kwa mkebe
Akasema ni wageni
Wageni wakasema
Ni Johni Kibogoyo!

I imagine that it created such vivid imagery in the victim's mind that they just couldn't help seeing themselves doing something nasty in a tin. Worked every time!

The normal playing curve

When I was growing up (assuming I have finished), most games began with a suggestion like 'tucheze kati', followed by screams of 'fao' seco' 'thirdo' and so on. As it usually happened, two of us would shout 'seco' at the very same instant and after some intense bickering, we would resort to the time honoured solution to such disputes: 'Iiiii exe exe exe kala kabonding socks' or the remix 'iiie exe exe exe exe darling slipping kala kabonding socks'. If everyone's palms came out facing down and yours came up, you were 'fao' and vice versa, on and on until we got to 'lanyo'. If some kid tried to come into the game much later or we just didn't like him, we would shoo him away with the 'no more no less' policy and he would have no choice but to sit and watch.

After about 15 minutes of happy playing, someone would start 'vumaing' the ball or tightening the skipping rope or unfairly claiming that 'umevunja nyungu' only to make you 'ban' (or is it 'bant'?) quickly. Then the lamentations of 'hii game ni ya harare' would start, followed by lofty proclamations of 'harare hailalangi'. The 'harare' would invariably get personal and one kid would invite the other to solve it with a fight. 'Kujaa... kujaa... unadhani mi nakuogopa?'. If the opponent backed off, we would all taunt them with 'kamehori eh eh! kamehori eh eh!' until we made them cry or agree to fight. Unfortunately, somebody would get hurt and the fear of 'mama so and so' would befall us. To guarantee our absolution from any wrongdoing, we would quickly fix the blame with 'Haishaaa makanjo! Ameeepiiiga! Mtoto wa wenyewe! Haisha! Haishaaa makanjo!'. Or we would simply get bored with the hassle of it all. You could simply shout 'Kila mtu kwao kwao, kila mtu kwao kwao' and gleefully watch the kids from other estates or courts slinking away, knowing full well that you wer firmly planted on home soil.

Remnants of yesterday

Oprah once featured super gifted children on her show. One of them said that an adult is just an overgrown child. Perhaps he was right. There are habits from my childhood that have remained with me to this day and I have refused to shake them off despite advice to the contrary. I thoroughly enjoy kicking a maize cob along whatever path I happen to find one. Never mind that I have been told repeatedly that it is childish to do so, it almost seems unfair to leave a cob in peace. I still do the balancing act on the edge of pavements, trying to make sure I don't fall off, to this day.

The other day on a busy walkway, I caught myself aiming for the spaces between the spikes of a barbed wire fence. I used to get a kick out of deftly avoiding the barbs with my fingers and tapping the plain wire. Still do! Sucking all the air out of my cup (thus creating a vacuum like effect) with the brim of the cup covering and entirely suspended by my lips is another occasional indulgence of mine. I also make prints on the floor using the treads on the soles of my shoes whenever there is spilled water. Playing with large grains of salt or sugar in restaurants is also rather gratifying.

The last habit I haven't completely dropped (and it is happening as we speak) is saving the best for last. As a child, I would always eat my fries first, then relish the sausage last. At other times, I'd quickly be done with the rice, ugali or maize, just so that I could happily concentrate on the beans, peas or meat at the end. The unfortunate bit about saving the best for last at this point in my life is that friends out to teach me a lesson on the importance of 'kujibebea' often steal my patiently saved sausage, piece of chicken or other yummy stuff. Boo hoo!

The perfect little girl

Sugar, spice, all things nice and chemical x is what it takes to make the perfect little girls*. The Kenyan equivalent in the early 90s would be:

• Nguo ya gorofa or Nguo ya Net: purchased at Garissa lodge for Christmas
  
• Socks za net: ankle length
  
• Pumps or Bubblegummers (Pink)
  
• Goggles: From the Nairobi Show
  
• Punk hairstyle: push-back and lift at the front
  
• Mum's lipstick
• Single dot of wanja on the right cheek
• Plastic jewelery set: birthday gift
  

Ah... 'tis the wonder of childhood. You cannot say the same for the current fashion for kids now can you?
*Professor Utonium et al

U

Remember the ad for 'U' that used to go something like:

guy: Hey you, what's new?
chick: U's what's new.
guy: Meeeeeeee?
chick: No, UUUUUUUUUUUUUU?
guy: Ohh, UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.........

Found it rather redundant the way they kep throwing the word 'u' around, but looks like it worked because I still remember it.

Home Science

Were it not for Home Science, most of us would never know what a back stitch, hemming stitch, overcasting or herringbone stitch are. Where would boys and girls voluntarily knit booties in the absence of this crucial subject? In addition, where would the essential skills of making a lap bag, pin cushion or fringed mat have come from? I never got round to finishing my shorts though.

I remember the way Tois in class 4 and 5 would psyche up for standard 6 Home Science after a sneak preview of the textbook revealed that 'Adole' would be featuring prominently in the curriculum. Among the worst things someone could say to you was that 'Unasumbuliwa na Adole'. Anyhow, through it all, we learned that hips broaden, voice deepens and wet dreams start.