Of taking risks and third wheeling...

First of all, SALUTATIONS!!!!!! Since being shipped off to our ancestral lands, an internet connection has been slightly hard to come by. After failing repeatedly to guess my father’s laptop password (yeah, we all tried and all our guesses failed!) I have been forced, forced I tell you, to ask for the laptop. Downright asking people! I would have like to say that it took several hours, sore knees, empty promises, and hoarse voices to get it. Throw in one or two tantrums, but nope. Actually it was quite simple, just

“Dad, can I borrow your laptop?”

“What for, you want to surf?”

“Yes, but first I have to write a document.”

“Oh, okay.”

JUST LIKE THAT! I’m still speechless. I guess it’s true what they say, men just need to be told what you want and they’ll give it to you. Hmm… who knew? New lessons learnt every day.

Back to me, so the other day whilst waiting for my already late friend to show up for an afternoon excursion (I’m English like that) I popped in to a restaurant kill time. Let’s be honest, there are very few places in town where you can just bum and still look sophisticated, or with it, or not a Nairobi jobless nigger or pickpocket. If you do know such places, please help a sister out! Anyway after discovering my friend was going to be uber late whilst I was already at the very place we were to meet, I was at a dilemma. Where to go, where to go… Already being on Biashara Street I thought of going, guess where…the Lifestyle lounge. Do not ask me why I didn’t think of Greenview fish fingers or that Lifestyle Lounge has been closed for some time I DON’T KNOW! All I was thinking of was some beef I had once had at the Lounge and that’s its balcony was safe for people-seeing at a table for one. Yes, I am not afraid of eating by myself, a girl’s gotta eat, especially when she’s craving a particular dish and doesn’t have time to go through her phonebook looking for company. Well, needless to say reaching there and meeting a closed Lifestyle Lounge merited a plan B, FAST. I did what I could only do at such short notice, move forward to the other eateries on the street. DO NOT ask me why Greenview didn’t pop up in my head!

Picture that street- I forget its name- where Nakumatt Lifestyle and Galitos are. Where that famous guy who hawks socks is found. Where there’s the furniture shop which has the big circular bed which I have a feeling can revolve round if you want and it has so many little drawers and the shop owners rarely dress it with a nice colour scheme! I think MKU is located there, or is it Multimedia? Okay we all have a good idea where I am. I didn’t want fast food, so cancel all the fast food joints on that street. Now to the right of lifestyle lounge there are two places which serve ‘traditional African dishes’. The first place I didn’t like the colour of their seats, plus they were wooden therefore hard. I want my tooshy to be comfortable. I entered the second one for two reasons. One, there was no other restaurant on that street and I didn’t want to look lost. Two, the two men in front of me entered it like it was their usual joint so I trusted their silent walk of approval. The minute I stepped into the restaurant the waiter at the door welcomed me with a smile and a greeting in Kikuyu. Kikuyu, I kid you not. I kind of look Luhyia and that thought usually holds water just by looking at my legs, but Kikuyu? I almost turned back. I soldiered on, then that funky smell hit me. Every particle in my body was already out of the door and walking opposite the street to Galitos but my whole being was being seated at a table. I was weak. I couldn’t turn back. So I sat down and prayed that the food poisoning would get me at home. I ordered fried meat with rice. The waiter was really nice. Ordered a glass of juice to go with my meal. Then waited. With  bated breath. Like walking down a dark alley where you know there is a 99% chance you will be mugged but stubbornly making your bet on that 1%. You know what? That 1% won! The food was really good. So good that I decided to write about it! The food was fresh, the meat was really good. Like really good (picture my eyes all popped out and me nodding enthusiastically) The price pocket friendly, and the service made me smile.Bonus- No food poisoning! Well Gallrix Restaurant pleasantly surprised me. I was happy.

 The reason why my friend was late was because she had to pick up her hubby up first. The reason why I wasn’t mad was because I understood she had to spend some ‘alone’ time with her special guy, plus less time spent third wheeling. Which brings me to this- TACKLING THIRD-WHEELING.

Now when you’ve been single for as long as I have you will or have been involved in being the extra, the third wheel so to speak. I have been third wheeling since the time when boys and girls began to see each other no longer as enemies. Yes, since class seven. At first you resent it which makes you avoid it at all costs. Eventually, you don’t make such a big deal out of it, heck you even have fun at such moments. Here’s how...

First of all this is not for the faint hearted; neither is it for those wishing to leave the single life. If you completely detest such moments I suggest you DO avoid them because all you’ll do is seep your bile into the gathering and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. So this is not for you. This is for the single girl who is pretty content in their own skin and their current relationship status. Plus you want to keep your friends and you might gain a new one too so no harm done.

1.       Be open: Yes, she’s coming with her boyfriend or he’s coming over while you’re hanging out at her place. You do not need to bolt. Well, sometimes you will have to if the situation calls for it. However most of the time it’s going to be a simple meet up. You don’t have to see yourself as an intrusion or he’s interrupting your girl-time. Think of it like meeting a new friend or an acquaintance who is going to be your friend. Do not act like a dog in a manger. Acting all mad and sullen. You can go with two options: go dumb and observe or talk like a parrot and be observed!

2.       Make friends: Your friend’s boyfriend isn’t an alien from space! He’s just a person who your friend likes, not to take her away from you. You may be surprised about how much you both have in common. After all one common denominator is your friend! There are a couple of dudes whom I met through dating my friends and are now my homies!!!! Plus, they may also have other cute friends which lead to jackpot!!! But you can’t be too close to them, you do not want to mess a good thing. You know what I mean. If you don’t, post a comment, I’ll explain in detail.

3.       Be interesting: Why be boring? Be you. You don’t have to impress this guy, he isn’t yours to. Talk your heart away but don’t embarrass your own friend. You’re there to represent your friend and all her other friends. Remember the saying, ‘Show me your friends and I’ll show you who you are’? Yep, you’re representing. No pressure. Most of the time, your friend’s significant other is also trying to impress you too so he won’t give you a hard time.

4.       Learn to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear: Yes, you will have to learn this skill. You will have to do it in such a way that it doesn’t look awkward. You have to be graceful about it and also learn to anticipate them. Couples tend to be mushy at times, some more predictable than others. Don’t let it get to you; just take it as a natural flow of things.  Every couple should be allowed to show affection for each other without being made to feel like it’s wrong or they should feel stifled because you’re there. A peck here, some sweet nothings there and your own phone should be your best friend. Most couples will not intentionally make you feel truly uncomfortable by going full on PDA. If they do, then your friend is intentionally being a bitch prick.

5.       Don’t take things too personally:  When you all go out, remember your friend is really trying to balance her attention between you two the best way she can. Unfortunately there will be moments when you will be left up in the air so to speak. Don’t fret nor whine. Keep yourself occupied. It’s just for a while. It’s not to intentionally exclude you.

6.       Conversationist needed: This is the perfect time to make fun of your friend. Do not look this gift horse in the mouth! And of course you can both gang up and make fun of the dude too. Or come up with an incredible back-story as to how the two of you became friends. Watch out! This could also be applied to you too! Be a good sport about it. J

7.       Be a team-player: Make your friend look good. Don’t be that girl. The one whom no one wants to introduce to their boyfriends. Please do not be that hussy who flirts with her friend’s dudes and ends up ruining one too many relationships just because of jealousy. Be good. Be kind. Have a good heart. It costs you nothing. Plus the universe will give you exactly what you dish out.

Sharing my little pearls of wisdom on this issue should make it a bit easier for some of us little ladies or should I say women. Remember Louisa May Allcot? J Besides, it is just for a little while, and you will need your friends to reciprocate in the future!

For now people, I’d like to wish all of you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Let’s all meet next year. I wish you all life and God’s mercy to be able for all of us to hold hands in 2013 and see it to its end, safe and sound. 

The Perfect Man

The perfect man. If there was ever a common mirage in the desert this would be it. You’ve all seen the picture of the lady seated on the bench waiting for the perfect man and she’s …… a skeleton. That’s right, an anatomically correct pile of bones. And we all know that one girl who just might end up being the true sorry version of that and it may very well be me! However I shall quickly exonerate myself by stating that I do not believe in the perfect man. I believe in Mr. There-for-you. Mr. Got-your-back. I believe that a man loving you doesn’t necessarily have to show it via expensive gifts and sweet nothings but by the steadiness of his embrace and by the fact that he puts up with your shit. And let’s face it; we do have a lot of shit.

For those of you who are fans of Bikozulu or are yet to discover this talented man (Jackson Biko of Man Talk) you need to get on his site and click on the Men and Women category. Here he painstakingly explains who a man is. Everyone should read it. While you’re there, you could also check out on who he thinks a woman is, and either cringe or pat yourself on the back because high-fiving is too mainstream. Or use it as a template for in your own search for your better half. Further down is my favourite Bikozulu article of all times –Knickers! Yes I adore that blog post and before you judge me, go read it! Okay enough with free advertising.

A few weeks back I got THE CALL from one of my aunties. The is-there-anyone-special-in-your-life-seeing-as-you’re-almost-done-with-uni call. I swear my eyebrows reached my hairline! Yes, I’m headed to fourth year medicine which means I’m not exactly spring chicken. (I’m serious by the way; the older you get in med school as a girl the slimmer your chances of being asked out by highly eligible bachelors. I could go on but that’s a rant for another day.) Yes, I do not, have not, had a serious meaningful relationship and there doesn’t seem to be any in the horizon. But there’s plenty of time right? I mean I’m in my late teens, (yes, teens! My mother practically still calls me an adolescent) so I still have a long way to go. It’s not like my eggs are a limited number…wait, shoot! Still. Yes, that’s what I have to say in my defence. Besides there’s still the first degree- masters gap that I am yet to encounter so I’m still safe. Breathe DeeDee, breathe.

Anyway she suggested that due to my impending graduation, now approaching fast in my peripheral vision, I cannot afford to waste time trying out all the bloody fish in the sea. I need to be strategic. I need to come with a plan, goals and objectives. I need to make a dream board. I need to make THE LIST. The list of exactly what I want in a man, what qualities I’m I searching for, which gene pool do I want to dip my feet into and who’s surname can I stomach for the rest of my life. My dream guy. My standard. Plus what type of babies do I want; do I want them dark or light? Melancholic or jolly? All female or male? Brown or blue eyes? My head is already spinning.  I just want to curl up in bed and sleep. Which is exactly what I did. It’s been weeks now since the list was mentioned and I haven’t gotten round to it till today. So let’s do this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay.

Ummmmmmm.

Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Maybe I should just sleep on it.

No! I’ve procrastinated long enough. I have to do this, even if it’s to laugh at myself when I’m a wizened old grey-haired lady or to tick the points on the morning of my wedding day. Team no sleep till this is done!

1.       He must be male.

 Yeah, I’m sticking to being heterosexual. I tried being adventurous and it was fun while it lasted. I realised though I was trying to fill a void which unfortunately needs a male perspective. Don’t get me wrong, girls are great and they know their way round the female body, after all the have one. But my heart wants what it wants.

2.       I would really like it if he were tall and dark.

My dad’s tall. There lies the root of my prejudice. Plus I believe in the Napoleon syndrome. I am sorry to every short guy out there but you guys do not put butterflies in my belly. Neither do you stir my loins (I’m I allowed to say that?) The number of times short guys have tried flirting with me and I just found it amusing. I like high heels too. I don’t take short guys seriously. Again refer back on top to my number one reason for this prejudice. I adore dark chocolate; white is too damn sweet and makes me feel sick afterwards. Not dark. Dark chocolate takes me to heaven and back. It makes me want to howl and kick in the air just so you could release that overwhelming sense of joy. Or ecstasy, sometimes I can’t tell the difference. I would recognize all the dark brothers when I walk into a room in five minutes flat. I love it. I love the idea of it next to my own skin. I love how dark men come in different hues and how some just get it right. They stand out. My whole essence basically lights up when I see such men. My heart constantly breaks because they prefer light-skinned girls. The universe is ironical.

3.       Hardworking man.

I believe in hard work. It pays. Hard work never killed anyone, that’s what my Class 8 teacher, Mrs.Attogo would say. That woman whipped me to shape I can tell you that, but she also made me believe in myself. That I could do it. This is one of the reasons why my KCPE marks were so damn good. A man who works hard will provide for that food on the table daily. A hardworking fellow has vision, purpose and drive which are why he wakes up and does his best every day. This man not only dreams but does something about it. I want to sleep and wake up daily next to this man. Stick with him through thick and thin and you’ll be surprised just how far he’ll go, then he’ll leave you for a pretty young thing.

4.       A man who is knowledgeable.

Knowledge is attainable. I read quite a lot. Fact and fiction. Bestsellers, underdogs, fantasy, autobiographies, the English classics. You name it I’ve read it or will read it. Few things make me as happy as opening the wrapper of a new book or sniffing the pages of a second hand book, discovering new words or falling into semi –imagined state where you’re not just reading a book, you’re in the book. This crazy habit was bestowed to me by my very own father who is quite a reader himself. I don’t just need this man to be book- savvy, I want him to be well versed in current events, okay even slightly versed is alright because current events aren’t as fun as historical events. He should love his career and strive to be better in it even if it means being in university at the same time as his kids. I want him to love books because our house will be filled with them. Already I’m surprised at how many places you can look in my room and find a book lodged in somewhere and I placed them there myself! I hope he’s naturally curious so that he can just blurt out some or funny or just huh? fact when I’m with him so that I can laugh. This reminds me…

5.       A man with a sense of humour is worth his weight in gold.

Need I say more? He needs to make me laugh. I love laughing, even if I occasionally snort. Laughing is healthy. After many years of marriage, it could be the only thing keeping us together.

6.       He loves kids.

 I want children, eventually. I want the father of my children to be involved in their lives. I almost always opt for single parenthood whenever I fantasize about the future, then I think of the relationship I have with my dad and stop. I’d like my kid to have that too. A boy should learn about being a man from his father and a girl should see how men should treat her by how her dad treats her mom. God damn it, this is hard!

7.       He is my rock.

8.       He is my complementary half.

My perfect man should also be my best friend. Plus an awesome lover. I hear you can’t have it both ways. Rules were meant to be broken and myths, shattered. I solemnly swear that I will not wear mother union panties, except maybe during my monthly period. He should make me want to better myself and vice versa.

9.       He should be able to at least burst one move on the dance floor.

At least! Plus be a fun sport about it!

10.   Respect, adore, love, cherish.

These are important, no?

11.   Treat me right.

He should take me out. Wine and dine me. Treat me like a queen. I’m not saying live beyond our means but a girl needs to feel appreciated. There are couples who spend their outings in Uhuru Park. You have no excuse. P.S I will not sit in Uhuru Park.

12.   Patience is a virtue that he needs to have.

13.   A man who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.

I’m really quirky and it takes getting used to. However if you get to see my quirky side, you are clearly way ahead in the list of contenders.

14.   A man who doesn’t leave.

There will be times you will wonder why you’re in this relationship. There are times we will argue. Times I will annoy you, you will make me want to pull out my hair and you will wonder whether I have a loose nut somewhere. There will be bad days. We can ride them out and have the good outweigh the bad, this I can honestly promise.

15.   Generosity and responsibility. Such nice qualities. I want my man to have them. At least these you can note even before you start dating. Sometimes I can be mean, and you might need to gently nudge me in the right direction. A responsible man makes you feel safe and comfortable. I know he’ll take care of me, and I him.

Phew! For now the list stands at 15! Didn’t sound too shallow I hope, nor unrealistic. Oops, forgot one major point- I have to love and respect him. There are plenty other points which will be added or deducted in the future and that’s alright. I know I’m yet to find this guy, or maybe I have and I’m being completely obstinate about it. The point is I’m not going to wait for him to show up on my front door like this is a Disney fairy tale. I’m going to live my life! Whether he steps up or not is his choice, because I’ll be too busy trying to make my life as amazing as I can! What’s on your list?

Conversations in the dark

I wrote this lil' piece here a while back. Thought I should share it with you. Pure fiction (is there impure fiction?). Enjoy...

The amber light flickered in the dark room as she lit her next cigarette. Inhaling the nicotine filled tobacco smoke, she exhaled in relief. “Yeah, that’s the stuff,” she thought. She puffed once or twice before she noticed that the floor was really hurting her posterior, but she made no effort to stand.

“Are you going to do this all night, Kay?”

“Why not? You have a better plan?”  Silence was the reply. She felt him slide next to her in silence and place his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve some nerve,” she muttered as she slid to fit into the little nook of comfort that he provided. He chuckled in that husky voice of his that she adored. “Cocky bastard,” she whispered, smiling in the dark. The ringlets of smoke doubled now, making up for the lack of conversation.

“Where do we go from here?”

You’ll be okay. You were always the decisive one and still are. I won’t be surprised if tomorrow finds you in Easy Coach or something already off.”

“You know I can’t do that. Besides, your mother would love that. Another thing for her to mutter about to her friends.”

He laughed. “She doesn’t hate you. It’s just that I had gone for so many years then we suddenly show up at her door. I guess you blew her mind after all those years of worrying about me.

“Hmm, again with your unique way of dealing with relationships. Running off to do something noble so that we can’t reason or guilt you into staying with us. She probably lost you to the NGO didn’t she? God, I should never have eaten that chicken that day.”

“C’mon! First of all it had been a dream of mine for so long to help eradicate Malaria at the village level. Second, you would have still eaten that chicken whether it was burnt or not. Kay, you always went for what you wanted. You approached me…

“Here we go again,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes simultaneously.

“Let me finish Kay. It was one of those good old surprises that life gives you. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Hell, if I could go back in time I would approach you this time. In that little black dress…

“purple”

“…black dress of yours at the bar with you little glass of wine and that cigarette that you held so seductively…”

“How does one hold a cigarette seductively?”

“I don’t know. You’re the expert. Speaking of which, when are you quitting?”

“Soon.”

“Kay…”

“I said soon. Damn it Dave, don’t lecture me right now.”

“Fine.”

The amber light glowed once more. The ticking of the clock at the far end of the room was the only sound emanating in the room.

“I’m scared Dave.”

“I know.”

“This really sucks. What’s going to happen now? I don’t want to move from here.”

“Kay…”

“No, let me finish Dave. I’m scared. So freaking scared. My heart is holding on to shards of a memory, my body clinging to a ghost, my mind is working overtime. I haven’t slept for days because closing my eyes will only lead to a breakdown. I’ll be forced to face the truth. I can’t do it. I keep hoping…”

“I’m sorry.”

“How does that help me Dave? You know how much it took for me trust you, how it finally felt to feel whole and loved. It was crazy beautiful. I exhaled, everyday, with peace that my turbulent soul had rarely felt. Now, I can hear that sleeping lion waking up, clawing on the very fabrics of my existence. Its howling, howling Dave…” she choked.

He held her close as he waited for the guttural sobs racking her body to subside. She couldn’t help but hold him close and struggle to capture what she had lost, what she was loosing. Soon the silent black was all that could be tangibly felt in the room.

“Remember when Halima came along, all flowery with that Coastal accent to the NGO? You all drooled over her yet she hadn’t the slightest clue. God, it was so refreshing to see all of you try to outdo each other.”

“What! I wasn’t there. I only had eyes for you.”

“Yeah right. Its okay, you don’t have to try to massage my ego or anything. I know you tried some of your ‘classic moves’ on her and you know how I can’t resist a good laugh.

“Ah! That hurt! Right here,” He pouted pointing at the left side of his chest. “Besides it was part of the plan, I knew you were watching, I had to get you laughing so that you’d be comfortable around me.”

“What do you mean, ‘comfortable around me’”, she mimicked.

Please, you never really liked any personal bonding with anyone, let alone men. It took time before you and Halima became best of friends, and it was longer still before you’d even let me drop you home, regardless of the fact that we were neighbors. Even that one time you hit on me when inebriated, you completely denied it the next day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, how did we get round to hitting me with a few hard truths from me making fun of you, dufus!”

“Classic avoidance Kay, but its okay, I’ll let it slide this once. You’ve had enough for today,” he smiled as he held her closer. “I expect you’ll go back to the university after this”

“No, I want to continue your work down in the village.”

“We talked about this before.”

“I know but things have changed…

“No, go, get your masters and come back. You’ll be better equipped and you’ll have a bigger clout. Those chiefs won’t know what hit them.”

She laughed, “I can see Chief Orwa right now, ballooning up when he hears some other new suggestions that are kindly being shoved down his throat.”

He chuckled. “Good memories.” Sighing he let her light her cigarette as he gazed wistfully at the window. Dawn was approaching fast, with the birds already preparing to meet it with chirps of song. It wasn’t long now. He could feel her clutching him tightly as light began to slowly seep into the room. The rectangular wooden box on the mahogany table was beginning to take definite shape. He wondered if she knew how desperate she looked, how bruises would form on her palms due to the machine like grip that she held on to him. Her eyes seemed wild, with embers flicking at the edges and all he could think of was how beautiful she looked, even in her pit of internal terror.

“Stay. Please.” She whispered.

“You know the answer to that.”

“Leave me with something, anything.”

“I love you.”

“How does that help me? It only makes it worse. Don’t you see? I know that. That’s what scares me. You love me. I love you. Yet we’ll be separated for such a long time. So long…”

It killed him to see her like this, but it was inevitable. The sun was rising fast and he could feel himself slipping away. She could feel it too and seemed to be slowly giving in to hysteria. Turning her slowly to face him, he whispered those three words before he kissed her gently on her lips. Those same lips that would never tire of smiling, the same lips that would always turn him on like crazy; the lips that could ask a question just by the shape they assumed. He was going to miss her laughter. He knew she would float aimlessly for a few months before she’d snap back to reality. Yet all he could offer her was this last kiss. A kiss that would dry in the harshness of the sun.

She could feel him slipping away even as tongue met tongue. She could feel the tears stream down her face as he began to fade with every strand of sunlight that slipped into the room. She knew she would never be the same again. It was going to be brutal yet all she had to hang onto was this night. Soon all she could feel was air and her heart silently wailed in desperation. Yet she had to pull herself together, for it was now time for the final send-off.

TAO

The Young man came to the Old Man seeking counsel.

I broke something, Old Man.

How badly is it broken?

It’s in a million little pieces

I’m afraid I can’t help you.

Why?

There’s nothing you can do.

Why?

It can’t be fixed.

Why?

It’s broken beyond repair. It’s in a million little pieces.

Like I said, I’ve been reading ‘A million little pieces’ by James Frey. There’s a part where his brother brings him this Chinese book called Tao Te Ching which had a simple message that I’d like to share with you guys. I don’t know whether it will be helpful or not. The author liked it a lot, here are snippets:

·         Names are not necessary for that which is real and for that which is eternal

·         If we are free from desire, we can realize mystery, if we are caught in desire, we only realize manifestations

·         Manifestations and mystery arise from the same source, which is darkness.

·         Darkness within darkness is the key to all understanding.

·         If there is beauty there is ugliness. If there is good there is bad.

·         Those who live with the Tao act without doing and teach without saying. They let things come and they let things go and they live without possession and they live without expectation.

·         Just be.

·         Over esteem men and people become powerless. Overvalue possessions and people begin to steal.

·         Empty your mind and fill your core. Lose everything you know and everything you desire and ignore those who say they know.

·         Weaken your ambition and toughen your reserve.

·         Practise not wanting, desiring, judging, doing, fighting, knowing.

·         Practise just being. Everything will fall into its place.

·         There is no good, or evil, no Sinner no Saint. There simply is what is and that is it.

·         The good is like water that nourishes without trying.

·         In thinking keep to simple, in conflict be fair.

·         Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill.

·         Keep sharpening your knife and it will become dull

·         Chase after money and your heart will never unclench.

·         Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner.

Like I said, little snippets...

Damaged....

I admit it. I am a sucker for love. I know I should be talking about highly relevant issues like the riots in Mombasa, the lecturer’s and doctor’s strike or even the unnerving unhinged mental states that some of my classmates have. That’s not what has my heart at the moment. Sure the riots in Mombasa and the clashes at the Tana Delta proved that we Kenyans are true ostriches. The last elections sparked such violence that it shocked not only the rest of the world but us. The amount of pent up rage that was released still shocks me to this day, how we went for each other’s throats in the name of leaders and tribes. How when people; descent, hardworking Kenyans saw their lives destroyed in front of their very eyes by their neighbours, workers or even their bloody milkman; the very leaders for whom the fought for were comfortably living in their mansions, with their diplomatic visas in hand if the violence escalated to genocide proportions. Retaliation followed soon after, where your own foreskin predetermined your fate.  How we breathed a sigh of relief when the peace agreement was signed yet we all knew we had crossed a line we could never go back. How certain tribes still skirt around each other to this day still saddens me. You can’t be sure the person you call friend will not stab you in the back because of your tribal dialect. I wait for the day when we’ll realize that our tribes are a source of pride and honour and not a reason for division. When our leaders pulling out the tribe card to cover their greedy thieving asses will be a thing of the past, then I shall be less jaded about politics. When media houses stop dwelling on petty biased political coverage based on which rich candidate ‘invested’ in the station and start focusing on the big picture, Wanjiru, is when I will start watching news again. I cannot wait for a Kenya that actually deals with its issues, instead of sweeping them under the rug. Remember the dirt is still there people, just better hidden. If we’d truly dealt with what happened in 2008, people wouldn’t have been slaughtered in the night by unknown assailants who were purportedly brought for that sole purpose in Tana.

 If we took pre-emptive action, a cleric teaching his flock that peace could be found through violence should have raised eyebrows a long time ago. Islam has unfortunately taken the brunt of being an unforgiving religion, something not fully understood, where violence seems to be a way of life. Granted, this may not be the true Islam, it seems to have been misinterpreted or preached with half truths I don’t know. All I know is that when I was young my church was burnt by irate Muslim youths with a petrol bomb and I don’t know why they did it. I remember people who were inside were injured; luckily it wasn’t at its full capacity. I remember the shock, the anger, the sorrow. I remember no retaliation. No riots to the mosque, no weird fights pitting religions against each other. I remember we forgave them, and prayed for their souls. I remember the resolve that was cemented in that small hall when we decided that we would rebuild, on the very same spot the old church had been. We would show them that we would neither lose hope nor faith. We would show them that peace and brotherhood would triumph over violence and hatred. Today, Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church is one of the most beautiful churches in the diocese of Nairobi. It’s bigger than its predecessor and is in the form of a dove, with its wings spread out, signifying peace. The number of parishioners has quadrupled over the years and it’s still growing. You all should go there for Mass sometime. Other end of spectrum- last week a Muslim cleric was killed as he was taking his wife to hospital. It was unfortunate and sad. Whether he was involved with the Al-Shabaab or not is the question but what was the motive behind it? Did he know something he shouldn’t have? My two cents on that whole matter was that it was an orchestrated murder not a random killing. Either he had been followed from the time he left the house or they waited for him where they knew he would pass. The whole thing screamed of an inside job, someone either planned the hit or sold him out to the highest bidder. What really shocked me though was the immediate retaliative anger towards Christians saying we had done it, with no evidence whatsoever. They attacked churches, and there was some imbecile on Twitter saying how they should kill pastors because of their murdered cleric. First of all, how hopelessly daft can you get! When it happened was their a crusade of masked soldiers with crosses on them who were responsible? How sure are they it wasn’t an ordered hit because the Al- Shabaab feared he knew too much? What if, I don’t know, someone just had a personal vendetta against him? What if someone just wanted to create chaos on Mombasa so that the can insist that ‘Pwani si Kenya’ and he was the best bait they could think of? Did anyone shout, “In the name of Jesus!” or something when it happened? Why the revenge killings?  Why harm people who have done you no wrong, other than what you imagine? Is this what Islam teaches? Yes, I asked. I’m asking because I want to know before I have misconceptions about it. And don’t give me that crap about holy war, Jihad or the virgins in paradise, tell me the truth. Tell me what really drives people to consciously throw grenades at their fellow human beings and feel justified. I need to understand.

Onward to personal ish. Someone I thought I knew once told me that I was lucky that I didn’t fall in love, that I would just have a number of crushes which would soon die off. I thought it was such an unfair statement to make. Just because you still hang up on your ex, doesn’t mean that I haven’t heard my own fair share of heartbreaks. They hurt but I learnt to heal, teaching myself to brush the dirt off from where I’d fallen off and move on. Positive outlook on life and a wicked sense of humour are such a balm to the heart at times too! Laugh people! Whoever coined the ‘laughter is the best medicine’ phrase was onto something. If it’s too much, I would go home, kick back and surround myself with family. My dad is my hero, the model to which I try to compare the men I like with, and they all fall short. My dad is also human, he’s made mistakes that remind me of this, some of them really do anger me and I’m ashamed for him. However I love him no less. I love him even more due to the fact that he accepts me for whom I am, he tries to sharpen both my mind and soul before it’s too late. He doesn’t leave me. I matter to him. I don’t know why, but those last two statements will always keep me holding on.  I’m not perfect, I make mistakes, he knows it, and he loves me anyway.

Ideally the daddy’s girl image is meant to mould the highly self-confident girl who sets standards on what men she should look at twice let alone date. It seems I must have missed a class because I fail miserably in this sector. Well, at least I have self confidence, enough to suddenly break into dance while walking before I remember where I am. When it comes to boys though, it’s a murky area. Like a swamp which is constantly covered with bog and you’re fairly certain that an alligator might be lurking in its waters. I find bad boys irresistible and good boys boring. Rather, already my own life is clear cut, you know, wake up, study, think about my future as a doctor; and dating someone exactly alike will bore the pantyhose off me. I know, highly textbook. Mary J. Blidge actually sang about it. I think it’s a case of opposites attract and Diana is an optimistic dreamer. I’ve had the sheltered life, being the good disciplined girl. Do what mom and dad say, work hard, pass exams and have a stellar career. Exquisitively dull. Bad boys always seem to offer an extra thrill in my life and living as I do is a guarantee of getting your fingers burned. It’s inevitable. I’ve been burned more times than I can count yet I still keep going back. I really am an idiot. An optimistic one. The worst kind.

This weekend has been spent being a good hostess with my roommate which funny enough I enjoyed immensely. It was fun having guests. Let’s throw in satisfying and fulfilling too. We cooked and made them comfortable; my two roomed house was just as happy to see new faces, it was beginning to get bored of us. All of them remarked how we were such catches, total wife material, girls who are rare gems and stuff, all very nice things. Though it could have been either the full stomachs or alcohol talking, I’m not sure. Yet the one who I would have loved to hear all that from hates my guts. Okay, I’m being melodramatic; he would rather spend the afternoon clipping his toenails than have a conversation with me. I kid you not. Stop laughing. :D I saw it in his eyes. There’s a thin line between love and hate people! He dumped me unceremoniously, and I’m beginning to see a pattern here (He’s not the first). Maybe I’m being punished for straying away from the right path. Like Mr. Rochester said in Jane Eyre, “I will demand pleasure where happiness has been refused to me.”  I have let myself take and give where I wasn’t meant to. Hell I even tried the whole no strings attached and I’ve ended up worse for wear. I have defied God in the way I deal with men in my life, mostly because I want to taste the forbidden fruit and also like to indulge on the good side of life. I have paid dearly for my wants. Rochester (yes, again!) says it best…

… “Jane! You think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog; but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees but far clearer; judges not as man judges, but far more wisely. I did wrong. I would have sullied my innocent flower- breathed guilt on its purity; the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation; instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters came thick on me; I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow of death. HIS chastisements are mighty and one smote me which has humbled me for ever…”

Fassbender was the sexiest Mr. Rochester, hands down!

. Of course I haven’t lost my sight nor my arm because my mentally unstable wife burnt down my castle after the love of my life disappeared leaving me wild with grief. I still relate with that paragraph a bit too well, it strikes a chord in my heart. God definitely has the upper hand in my life, much as I try to deny it, including the existence of a higher power. Or to trivialise this whole thing, maybe I’m just boring?

I encountered raw hurt this weekend. The type of hurt where you want to be involved in a true girl fight, slash tyres, break bottles, be carried out of the club yelling and kicking just so you won’t have to concentrate on it. That hurt is the real deal, gnawing at your heart and filling your mind. I swear there were times I had double vision with a headache to accompany it. My anger at him was only rivalled by the intense craving that I had to be in his arms. I was numb for a good part of that night. I had other dudes trying to outshine each other for my favour and all I could respond with was nods and courteous smiles. It was all I could do without screaming, crying or throwing a tantrum. I couldn’t even be mad at the girl he was with because she seemed so nice. All these dudes telling me funny stories, flattering me at every turn and all I wanted was for the hurt to go away. I knew he wanted nothing to do with me but it didn’t stop me from being the complete idiot who still wasn’t over him. I was desperate. Desperate enough to do an incredibly stupid thing. I would either make a public scene and beg or curse him or something equally cringing or prioritise the pain. I chose the latter. You know how when you have a small cut on your finger you suck it and somehow the pain isn’t as bad? It’s because you make the brain prioritise between the nerve endings carrying pain signals and those transmitting touch information. The latter carry more weight therefore your brain ignores the nerves transmitting the pain information. So the pain seems to have subsided but in real sense your brain has refused to register it. Back to what I did, I simply broke a bottle, used alcohol as spirit and cut myself. I’m not proud of what I did. I have never wanted to harm myself as I adore my body. I have enough self love for two. I’m not sure whether it was truly a moment of insanity but it did give me what I wanted. Reprieve. I was sweetly happy for an hour because I only had to concentrate on the physical pain. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a bad cut, the opposing sides are still touching so it will heal by first intention and soon there won’t even be a scar. For now, I’m using it as a reminder, a reminder that I really crossed the line this time for the male species. That I am damaged and have become the one thing I promised myself I would avoid at all costs. The already jaded twenty something year old Kenyan lady whom Bikozulu and Oyunga Pala are always talking about. What’s even scarier is the fact that if he just showed up at my door, I would probably take him back with open arms. More messed up shit.

I need time to heal. I have to force myself to face the hurt because I’m a classic avoider. Maybe I should go for crying classes or something before causing personal injury is my thing. I need to re-evaluate. Take a breather and just think all this through. Just breathe. Take it day by day. Trying not to think that all men are true bastards. Staying grounded. I cannot end up bitter with life because of the y-chromosome; it would be a self defeating gesture. It’s going to take a long time, but don’t they say time heals all wounds?

one day at a time...

P.S- Reading James Frey book ‘A thousand little pieces’. It’s about the author’s addiction and his stint at rehab. It’s scary, raw and brutal at the same time. However it had some controversy a while back because apparently some of the things he wrote were fabricated (lies!), so it loses some of the power it had. It’s still a good book though, not as gripping when you realise that he might be lying to you at some point. You don’t know where and when to separate reality and fantasy. Still, drugs can mess you up pretty bad, and then kill you. I swear the thought of 'addiction' and 'dependence' had never really scared me until I read this book. It might take only one try.

WITCHING HOUR

I miss being single. Well, I’m already single but what I’m talking about is where all three spheres of your life are single. Your body doesn’t crave anyone, your heart is 100% yours and your soul doesn’t have episodes of emptiness. I once almost achieved that, a beautiful week that was. Now before you get all judgy thinking “OMG! A week! I’ve been doing this for years…” Know I’m talking about total freedom, no pining over exes, no secret sighs at crushes, no what ifs at handsome strangers, no wishful thinking whilst watching the wedding show, nothing! You are akin to a robot with breasts. That’s the singlehood I’m talking about. Yet somehow men chose that very week to bombard me. I resisted stoically. Like a captain who refuses to leave his sinking ship in the high seas as cannon balls wreck each side of his beloved. Speaking of which, just how cool would it be if someone called you their beloved and meant it? Just a silly thought.

 Back to my ‘reclaim thy singlehood’ crusade, I lost thy path at my weakest hour right at the witching hour. The witching hour for those of you not in the know, is when the supernatural gains the reins in your life, when the ethereal clouds your very vision, when magic happens. You know what I’m talking about, I know you do. The moment when your skin tingles, from your arms to the nape of your neck, at the very whispers the depth of night brings.  When you listen to your inner devil who can tell you no wrong, so convincing they sound. Children hear the monsters under their beds and cower under their duvets. That’s the witching hour. Someone was lucky enough to have the witching hour by their side when we would converse. It didn’t help that he has an amazing body and voice, not to mention his height! I looked like a child next to him and that made me so happy (seal-clapping happy). His face isn’t something worth talking about, so this time it was a TDA {tall, dark and attractive}. I thought I could still be in control and the maniac in my heart must have laughed at my ignorant mind. The witching hour always wins. It seduced me for a few nights, and soon I was wrapped deep in its power. You will do what it wants; all the while making you think it was your decision all along. Highly manipulative, this out of world experience.

I lost my grasp on full singlehood so slowly I didn’t notice, only realized when it was too late. It was gone. I’m sorry, I’m talking in parables but I find it hard to write in black and white, I’m fanciful like that. I refused to trust what was happening, I kept waiting for the moment he would walk away, I’m jaded, sue me.  He didn’t disappoint, yet it hurt, which sucked. I guess I was thrown aback with how it all went down. He had become a common fixture in my daily life and somehow hope had begun creeping in that maybe he would stay a tad longer. I would get to know all of him in more ways than one and see where it would go from there. It didn’t work out.  I tried to fight it, stupidly I might add. I did humiliate myself in front of a bunch of my friends; even as I write this my head automatically hang itself in shame. My own phone didn’t even know who its owner was anymore because that call log wasn’t pretty. However don’t get it twisted; I had to try because I would never have forgiven myself if I hadn’t. Let it be known that I showed him that I cared. That’s when I finally accepted it and the next course of action was to forget him. I would go all Jane Eyre on him running away from his very memory in my bloody hippocampus. It was going to work damnit! It promisingly showed increasing levels of success except for one- the witching hour. This bloody hour still has his scents in its charms; it keeps me awake, making me dream impossible things, fantasies that keep me away from Pathology. I fail every time in my resolve to fight it, enticing me every day as sure as the hour hand creeps close to it. I’m disappointed for falling for it every time yet when the day breaks it seems like a forgotten nightmare. You know you had a fitful sleep but it wasn’t that bad, right? In fact the horror is exaggerated. You shake it off but when the day turns to dusk, you feel the familiar tugging at your being, it’s almost time. The witching hour is fast approaching in the horizon. You try to guard your soul, arming yourself with the necessary weapons: a heavy workload, mind numbing music, a funny series, anything to keep your mind occupied. Yet I fail, daily. I understand though, I have to take it one day at a time. Soon I will beat this part of the witching hour; maybe a nymph will visit me instead and show me how to dance gracefully from my soul. Like I said, I’m fanciful.

In the meantime the reclaim thy singlehood crusade is back on! It always begins with the first step of being happy. Be happy people! Don’t rely on people or objects to do it for you. Be happy just because. 
 

Love letter to you...

“Its four o’clock in the morning/ sleeping is too mainstream/ said you’d wake up soon/ so I’ll just continue doing my own thing/ pretending I’m not trying to wake you/ with all this noise I’m making.”

I would make a shitty songwriter! How are you my love? No, do not turn your face away from me! I know I have been away for too long, you probably stopped your daily vigil at the patio of the house, waiting for my figure to show itself on the long winding road. Yet you must know that not a day passes when I do not think of you my love! You always tag at the corners of my mind like Sapphire to Eragon. (Yes I’ve started the inheritance cycle! See how I eased it into this love letter!) You must never tire of waiting for me, as Caroline continually waited for Corin till she was in her hundreds (Another book! The legend! Warau how goes thy reading?) Love me endlessly as it’s only your love that keeps me going and it will always bring me back to you. Even as Blogger becomes old school meaning we might have to move soon you should know the memories we’ve made here are too precious to discard. May you never tire of me, for when you do then I become nothing.

Let me fill you in on my travels Dear, I have been to the examination centre in Chiromo, twice! Wiggling in my seat as my brain was hard pressed for answers it knew it must give. Those were dark days love, dark. You should know if you ever are in the same situation, that the best place to sit is on the third floor at the far right corner of the hall where the sun may smile at you, a slight breeze may revive you and the walls support you. You are also close to the washrooms incase you need to answer a call of nature or a question which you’re sure you know the answer but need a little reminder. Ensure you sit with your friends, those who are willing to aid you in the rat race that is the awarding of your degree. You must sit at the most optimal position, the brighter of your friends should be on your left and in front of you, and never two seats away you hear?

I went away to Nakuru Love, it was amazing (or amaazing like Penny says it in happy endings). I had been promised Baringo but we took too long to leave Nairobi so we had to settle for Nakuru or Kenya’s Las Vegas! Sweetheart if you decide to partake in such ramblings ensure you will be warm, carry a sweater, extra pair of jeans, shawl. Ensure you have enough water too and enough money to get you through the trip. No small embarrassments! Hatutaki aibu ndogo ndogo!  Things can go south pretty fast and you may need to get yourself back home as fast as possible without resorting to your parents. Remember parents are the LAST resort, short of you all doing a small harambee and almost trekking to the nearest town. Please visit the viewpoint and buy a little trinket as a souvenir, you might need it as proof that you have done crazy things in your youth! Life is too short, YOLO. Visit our country’s lakes too, they’re fast drying up yet they still are as beautiful as ever. Devastatingly beautiful. It’s like watching the one you love slip away from this life. May that not happen to us my sweet banana. In Nakuru do not approach cute descendants of Adam whilst inebriated, short of embarrassing yourself in public, they will give you their names which you will struggle to remember whilst in the throes of a hangover and it will be a futile activity. Be content Love, I will always be enough for you.

When we finally go away together Love, if you have any pent-up issues with me either cancel the trip or clear the air before we embark. Otherwise keep it to yourself until we come back. Alcohol will only make the issue worse so it’s either you stay sober or resort to plan two, which was to empty your chest so that we fight in the privacy of our own house. There is no need to inconvenience, embarrass or devastate our fellow friends. Forcing them to choose sides and keeping us from wringing each other’s necks. If you must say cruel words only to hurt me then why are you with me? I would rather we parted ways without internally damaging ourselves. When you have time, please look for the trending topic #traintales on twitter and it’ll give you a clue on what people see in such public arguments. You will not believe what I have endured Love, it sickened me how they made their love look so dark. Their own version of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance, it didn’t even look as hot as she makes it look! I saw single people give silent prayers of gratitude to the man upstairs. Yes, they gave thanks! Even in this winter season where #teamforeveralone has been losing members like flies dropping at an electric fly catcher. They seemed to think of their cold large beds with such wistfulness that I did not have the moral ground to tell them that two is definitely better than one, my love, as you have taught me it is.

My one and only I have a confession to make. I took part in a charity event and I did not invite you to watch me and I’m sorry. Now you can turn your face away from me and I wouldn’t blame you but give me a chance to redeem myself as I tell you all about it. We practiced for two weeks Love, after the exams (dark days) but became really serious the last week. We managed to perfect everything a day to the event Deary. It was a brutal time, practice by practice, not sure if we would be able to do it, our different commitments in life butting in, you would not believe! The small dramas we had! Like whether we would have to remove one of our members due to her lack of memory retention on the moves. She was like a goldfish in those moments and I say this with all the love you know I have. However she managed to pull through and we have never been more grateful. There was also the overreaction by you-know-who. We have discussed her sometimes when I was feeling really low my love and you helped me see different perspectives. Of course, some people went and sang her tune till she came back. I believe this will only make her messed up convictions about herself only stronger but what do I know. She should have been the one to apologize as it was a charity event, where it wasn’t about her but she made it so. Yet you say I’m the bitch narcissistic one, Love? I will not try to defend my bad traits here though.

Speaking of bad character traits, I’m afraid some popped out during the rehearsals; I might have ticked off Kare (understatement!) and pushed her to the limit. You would have been ashamed of me my only fish in Lake Victoria but you will be happy to know I recognised it and apologised profusely afterwards. I don’t know if I angered anyone else; if it’s getting on someone’s nerves, everyone crossed that boundary and then some. However, true anger I’m not sure, if I did, sorry, whoever you are! There love, just like you taught me too, acknowledge, accept and apologise. Told you I was learning! Mpenzi, I finally accepted I’m in the bracket of #teammasufferer when I had to walk through the streets of Westlands in the thick of night from Oshwal Centre and head all the way to the stage to still use public transport. It was a crazy experience! There we were, already scared shitless walking in a pack at night, and then some woman had the audacity to check her doors as we passed by! I have two questions my angel; do I look like a thug? I didn’t know my build was menacing or maybe it’s because criminals can take different forms. Two, why would anyone want to rob a Vitz? It was a Vitz dear, can you believe that! It wouldn’t be worth much, I’m better off saving more money and buying a plot of land but that’s just me. I boarded that matatu and paid my ten shillings to town with my head held high. Even #teammasufferer have their standards you know. P.S we need to start saving up for a car.

The event itself was stunning! The décor, the audience, the food and last but not least the performances were all superb. Not to blow my own horn but we were awesome and such a different act to the event! Hell, even my mother liked it! My own mother liked it! There is no going back from that ego trip mtu nguyas! I’m on a beautiful trip that is speeding towards the Miguna Miguna lands; the areas known as Kanye West are still far off. I danced with all the vigor that this daughter of Ramogi could muster and yes, my love my teeth were forever in the limelight. You know it’s my powerful automatic reaction to smile the minute I’m in the spotlight. The pictures did not disappoint, they showed what I had envisioned and then some! Riz. Mehar photography is definitely giving Mutua Matheka a run for his money and you know where our photography loyalties lie, Love. If you’re being the doubting Thomas that I know you to be you can check out his facebook page. There are people who can sing sweetheart! When you hear them you shall surely leave me but when the day comes please restrain yourself, for you know my love runs deep and you shall never be able to dive as well anywhere else but here, with me. Remember that.

I have to leave now, for it’s no longer 4 am but 6.30 and I need to start preparing to head to where my bread is buttered and my tea creamed. Goodbye for now dear, and remember as Heathcliff was nearly driven to madness by the closeness of Catherine’s ghost which stubbornly refused to make itself known, so I too will be driven to madness by the very thoughts of you, only to be cured by your tangible touch.

Note: This form of writing was inspired by the blog Dear Doris by @arungaian (www.deardoris.wordpress.com) .This man does not disappoint. I am but only a humble fan.