Smile If Nothing Else
Patrick has been my friend for 18 years and I’ve known his wonderful family for roughly the same period. They are the most friendly, honest and good natured people you will ever meet. I knew his dad, a very friendly and insightful man. His mother, a woman full of love and understanding. It is why I am honoured to post this article where Pattoe (as we call him) shows us a simple yet effective way of living.
“We see the world not as it is, but as we are.”
— Ken Keyes
He poked at the fire, furrows creased, thinking, scheming. It was day 4, still no animal in sight, they had come a few dead carcasses, long dead to be of any use. “Such bad luck”, he thought but his father always had something positive to say. “The herd must be close by”, he said. The endless optimism was annoying at times, but anyhoo, to each his own. His critical mind liked to analyze facts, scheme, plot and decipher. He wanted a plan, a set course of action to follow. He wanted things to make sense. There was a drought and the animals had migrated, the crops had failed, people were starving but he was always smiling.
That smile, who could forget it? It was a constant feature in his everyday life. It was a part of his life and he couldn’t avoid it, he had come to accept it as part of everyday life. He glanced over at his father, sleeping, the smile plastered on his face. An SI unit, poked at the fire again and added some firewood. He thought about the hunt tomorrow. “Hunt? More like roaming around and hope we strike gold, or in this case meat.” Three days of long treks and committed hunting had yielded just a rabbit, long gone since they needed sustenance. Three days and nothing to show for it, well except the smile.
As much as he tried to worry, he couldn’t. Somehow, deep down, he knew they would find something. It was a sense of calm that he loved and hated. Why wasn’t he worried? Three days of nothing and he had this optimism. This undeniable feeling that someway, somehow they would succeed. It baffled him and annoyed him, yet it somehow made him want to go on pursuing, chasing, and searching for that ever elusive prize. He started smiling, “Am my father’s son,” he thought. The last few years had been HELL. The war came, bullets whizzing past, they lost everything, all they had left were the clothes on their back and each other, he had been through enough suffering to last three lifetimes but that ever persistent feeling of optimism never seemed to die, he had given up many times but it was always there lurking, never leaving him. Like that one mosquito you can’t seem to kill, that one, that gets inside the mosquito net and flies into your ear every five or six minutes.
You have to understand; this wasn’t his life. Four years ago, he was an aspiring engineer dreaming of building bridges. The “game” he hunted was the female kind, he was what the young folks called a “fisi” Now here he was, ready to eat a real fisi if he came across one. Oh how life changes! He was now hunting game like he grew up hunting yet he had been a city boy through and through, never had slaughtered a chicken in his life. The scariest thing he had killed was a huge banana spider. But here he was, sleeping under the stars, smiling and thinking about the antelope they would kill the next day. There it was, that optimism! Followed by that smile, he fell asleep, dreaming of laughter and meat.
They did eat the next day, a large antelope that had been left behind by the herd. Years passed, things got better, life improved. The smile was a constant feature; that never changed. But one day suddenly, no more smile, it was gone! Now, here he was, burying his father. He had heard many scary sounds, screams, gunshots, the roars of a hungry lion in the dark. Nothing filled him with more gloom or dread than the sound of the soil hitting his father’s coffin. There was such a finality to it. That day, after that sound, the optimism left him. Gone with the father that he was now burying. He tried to smile, nothing. Not even a forced one, it was truly gone. Gone like yesterday, never to come back.
I lost my smile one day, like him it disappeared with that awful sound. A sound that feels me with dread to this day. You see, I too lost my father, four years ago. Words fail to explain the trepidation that filled my heart, as the soil hit the coffin. I felt that life had to come to an end, not just his but mine too. Many of us, if not all, have buried someone. We have gone through the motions, we have missed, mourned them, drowned our sorrows in drink or other ways to try and fill that void. I did all that and then some. But as it may seem, this story does not have a sad ending but rather a celebration of the great men and women that once graced our lives. Though he is not here physically, the perspective he gave me in life will always live on. He instilled in me a never ending positivity that grows and wanes but it’s always there, a constant in my life. For that, I am thankful. So we aren’t here to mourn but to smile, and smile some more.
There is a story circulating on FB that goes like this:
“Two twin boys were raised by an alcoholic father. One grew up to be an alcoholic & when asked what happened he said” I watched my father” …
The other grew up and never drank in his life. When he was asked what happened he said “I watched my father” …
Two boys, same dad, two different perspectives.
In life, we are all faced with similar situations. Two people will look at the same situation and perceive it totally differently. I looked at the death of my father like the ending of a book. But what I later realized was his story was not yet done, he left a beautiful wife and four wonderful children, who continue to tell his story and add more chapters to his book. I have dreams and ambitions that were founded on his encouragement. So when my story is told, they will speak of a father who imbued me with optimism and a never quit attitude. Maybe one day, I will honor him in some grand way and everyone will know his name. Maybe not, either way, I am honoring him in the best way I know how. Being optimistic!
What about you? How is your outlook in life? How do you perceive things? Do you know that your perception is your reality? We walk through life sometimes trying to change the world, how about looking within and changing ourselves? We are constantly bombarded on how to look, what to wear, how to be successful etc. Every single aspect of our lives is micromanaged by one thing or other. I am not here to do that, I am simply making you aware that it’s your life, get in the driver’s seat and drive. The way you can do that is to change your perception if need be. Wherever you want to be in life, it may seems that’s its dependent on one circumstance or the other but it’s really just dependent on how you view them, are they obstacles or challenges? SMILE
There are a lot of things that I would like to tell you, but I will leave you with this. If you don’t do anything else today, SMILE. I know that’s what Mr. Ndung’u is doing and that’s what he would have told you.
Use your smile to change the world, don’t let the world change your smile!
My grandmother passed away this weekend. Last weekend, we celebrated mum’s birthday. A few months ago, we got grandmother a pacemaker, because of that my grandmother enjoyed her eldest daughter’s (my mum) birthday. We miss her, but we are thankful! She taught us to smile…if nothing else.
Dedicated to the loving memory and smile of Mr. Francis Ndung’u.
Killing The Chief of Staff
I recently came across this very outrageous writer called Prestone Adie whom I strongly believe deserves a medal. I choose to call him outrageous because I am yet to figure out why this article made me laugh and eventually fart involuntarily. He is a very intelligent and gripping story teller and I also suspect he is a very disgusting individual to have a beer with. I would hate to imagine the agony his close friends go through by association. Read this and just tell me flat out if I have praised him a bit too much. Oh and Big Up Camp Mulla on their video ” Hold it Down”. These kids are Legendary. Watch it as you read 🙂
By Prestone Adie
I struggle to keep my eyes closed. Every time I catch a glimpse of the dark land something jerks me awake. I’ve been at this the last 20 minutes or so. This is not my favourite past time, at least not at this moment of the day. Seated close to me is a lady who I guess got her size matters figured out. She occupies every space in her seat and most of mine. Who am I to complain after all she’s fearfully and wonderfully made; in this case I bet the potter did a tonne fearfully and a tiny wonderfully. I understand there are men who like this size. Again, am just a piece in the puzzle I can’t complain why this little space is where the potter let me fit. I pull and tug to fit the seatbelt at least to be sure I won’t fall off should this bumpy ride stay this way. I give up when I realize the belt might have been consumed in her mighty butthole. She has every luggage on her lap; the yellow extra large polythene, a kuku, a hunting bag( no other bag is that big) and a large china phone. One of those phones that I bet come with CD players. Did I mention she loves her music loud, I mean no ear phones but the classic palito on hand. I bet this must be the reason can’t get any sleep because suppose she decides to play Brick breaker on that phone who knows the size of bricks it has and whether virtual reality could be real at any point in time?
This episode of my life reminds me of the time I took a group of Philistine friends of mine to Nakuru. They kept asking questions on and off in a language close to English, maybe it was English because most words after serious explanation sounded English to me. They talked of how happy they were to have come to the nativity of US president and asked me whether I would take them there. I said yes and named my price that’s when I realized Kikuyu is not a tribe in Kenya, they are spread all over the world. They lectured me on the proper ways to treat foreigners even if I was playing host. We might be foreigners but we know that given a thousand shillings is your highest monetary denominator one must always find change whenever they use it, they said. They told me how they had been to Kenya before and even gone to it’s second largest city, Kampala. In fact they said Kampala had the best Kenyan women because they knelt down to greet their men and showed the highest respect. When I challenged them why they didn’t get married to them they said how dark thighs dimmed their sexual appetite.
Truth be told, I had hosted these Goliath men for the last 1 week and by then I had taught them the lines of “Mgeni siku ya kwanza…” which they sang every time they could. Am not a bad host, that much I know because my mum had taught me well. Question is how much of that do I remember or use. Let me whine a little. In my neighborhood I am a very respectable man. For one I don’t drink and when I do I don’t tell. Next, I don’t play loud music mostly because my other neighbours have better systems unlike my version of a subwoofer which is basically a stolen matatu speaker placed inside out in a cut Jerrican that I proudly made in campus, Genius huh! Again, the kids on the block love me, they want to be like me when they grow up however much I keep beseeching them to have different goals because even me didn’t want to be like me when I grow up. These kids come calling when they can and that’s where the problem comes with my guests. They walk naked in the house and say clothing is something for people who are not proud of their bodies. Am not proud of their bodies. They take pictures every other time and record everything including the time I was shouting at my mum for pledging a 10000 give away at church in my name. Yeah! Times are hard but that’s a fact I don’t want my parents to know because they believe am one of their successful projects. These Goliath people don’t flash the toilet and say that in their country they have automatic flashing systems that go swoosh when you are done losing weight. They hate ugali and love uji, how’s that even possible. They love nyama choma and prefer I cook them nyama choma than ugali and sukuma wiki. They like Jamaican songs and believe the Jamaican language is the one used in the God’s must be crazy. In a nutshell they are quite the guests.
Once on the trip to Nakuru I told them that Zebra’s are called Punda milia and donkey punda, an action I soon came to regret when they kept shouting punda milia at everything they saw. Then I told them that Nyani is Kiswahili for hi so that they could give me some fun in the car while they kept exchanging pleasantries and they ended up using it on a traffic police officer. Long story short thank God I borrowed a turbo charged land rover hard body for this trip cos damn! How many horse power does that thing produce again?
I remember on the second day when they skyped a friend of theirs in Australia who gave me a hard time explaining that my dad is human and not a chimp. After the call I took out the family album and compared with the evolution pictures on the internet.
Actually I understand why David had to kill their chief of staff with a stone from river Tana. These people are a pain in the ass. There’s a reason why David is the hero of this story and am not surprised he’s a Maasai, after all they are the only people I know who like David kill lions and graze their father’s cattle. Here’s a question for y’all, What is the average height of a philistine because Goliath is the first and the last I know who was both huge and tall? Is that why he was made the chief of staff? Do they have oval faced women there or is round their only version of sexy?
Here’s a pointer. While men say women whine, am a masculine version of a woman because I complain a lot and that should not make one think I didn’t have fun. These philistines gave me three things when they were around. One is fun like never before. Then there’s a million pictures of nude men on my desktop which I have learnt to delete without looking. And finally, most significant of all they made me bankrupt.
TO CHEAT OR NOT TO CHEAT?
BY PATRICK WANYOIKE
The last blog post by Michael Ngigi really created a furor and got me thinking. Although the actual blog was not about cheating, many people judged the blog by its title and thus lost a very important message on self-love. Many thought that the author needed some sort of intervention, well if you just read the first few paragraphs and never really bothered to read the whole thing. Cheating it seems, is a very sensitive topic although it’s very prevalent. So this blog post is ACTUALLY about cheating. Let me first reiterate that I am not encouraging anyone to cheat. I thought about this topic and I enlisted quite a number of people who wished to stay anonymous (for obvious reasons) to give their opinions on this topic. What I got back, were a myriad of reasons that was too long to list. They gave reasons for and against cheating; here are some of the reasons they gave as to why people cheat…
1. Boredom
This was the most common reason. Most people felt that once you put time in a relationship, you lose the spark. The chemical high wears off; the sex becomes dull and infrequent. Same position, same person, and only the adrenaline of an affair can bring back those feelings of excitement. Some people just enjoy the thrill of running around and trying not to get caught. Long-term relationships have the annoying habit of making people lazy. They settle and once they do that, boredom sets in and cheating might follow.
Nobody will bring back the spark in your relationship unless you work on it. How about you try investing that time you use to cover your tracks, sneaking around and cheating to go out on a few dates and keep that spark alive? Better yet, get a hobby or work on your bucket list
2. Revenge
So he/she went and cheated on you. You ‘forgave’ them and now it’s payback. You feel betrayed, wounded and want to give them a dose of their own medicine and even the playing field. So what do you do? You go and cheat
People do dumb shit. (Pardon my French) This is one of them. When does the vicious cycle of an eye for an eye end? All this ends up doing is leaving everyone blind.
3. Because They Let You
This was a reason given predominantly by the men who felt that once they cheated, and were forgiven; felt that no matter how many times they did it, they would be forgiven. After all, you did let them get away with it the first time.
Maybe it’s time to take a stand and don’t allow anyone to take advantage of you and your generosity
4. Self-Esteem
Sex can be an instant pick-me-up; that makes women feel sexier, more beautiful and more loved. And if you are ignoring her, not giving her compliments, some other man might be doing just that. For men, who need their ego stroked constantly, nothing does that better than discovering that other women still desire you sexually. And when this happens, sometimes the temptation proves just a little bit too much
Pay attention to her, ask her questions and don’t hold back on compliments — a little flattery goes a long way. And for the ladies, it’s your job to make your man feel like a man. Or someone else will…
5. Exit Strategy
Instead of breaking up with you, they cheat on you. That way they don’t have to deal with the broken relationship, which is much harder to fix. An affair is the easy way out — or at least that’s how they see it.
Don’t be a coward, man up. If you want out of a relationship, say so. Don’t cheat.
6. Its Genetic
A report came out a few years ago that said, “In what is being called a first of its kind study, researchers at Binghamton University, State University of New York (SUNY) have discovered that about half of all people have a gene that makes them more vulnerable to promiscuity and cheating. Those with a certain variant of the dopamine receptor D4 polymorphism — or DRD4 gene — “were more likely to have a history of uncommitted sex, including one-night stands and acts of infidelity,” according to lead investigator Justin Garcia. DRD4 is the “thrill-seeking” gene, also responsible for alcohol and gambling addictions. The gene can influence the brain’s chemistry and subsequently, an individual’s behavior. The desire to cheat or sleep around seems to originate in the brain’s pleasure and reward center, where the “rush” of dopamine motivates those who are vulnerable, the researchers say.
I guess they better come up with a test for this in order we can all get tested. The science is sound but whether it affects you is a totally different matter. Look at the term used “more likely.”
Beware of who you marry….
The first time I met Maurice Matheka I couldn’t help noticing how easily he handled women. He’s one guy who always fascinates me in the way he understands the female psyche. He simply knows what women want. So when time comes for you to have a bridal shower just make sure you call this guy. Trust me. Not that I’ve been to a bridal shower but as a guy, I’ve learnt quite a bit from this brother. Go on, have a read and prove me wrong. I dare you. I think he is one brilliant orator and I hope that one day, I will be great enough to share a stage with him. To my readers, happy year one from A Day in Dog’s Life™. Leggo! – Michael Ngigi, A Day in a Dog’s life™
•••
By Maurice Matheka
Dear Maurice,
Where do I begin?
I am a wife and a mother of 5 children, my youngest is 14 years old. I was married at 22 and have been married for 28 years now. In those 28 years I have been through thick and thin with my husband regardless of what he throws at me I have stood by his side not because of the children but because I married for life, I am a big believer in till death do us part and will stick with it as I am not about to break my vows. Now in regards to my husband he has always been a traditionalist and that is something I have had to adapt to but it was not easy especially during our first 4 years of marriage.
When we met I was a very out going woman with plenty of friends and hobbies, needless to say he stripped me of those pleasures of life. He is a loving man who provides for his family and when it suits him he will treat me like the most special woman but unfortunately that is where the good side ends. On our fourth year of marriage I came to find that he had an affair with my neighbour’s house help and got her pregnant. She was fired from her work and my husband did his part and decided to support the baby, which he still continues to do to date. I was upset as you can imagine and hated him for a while. I moved out to my friend’s place for 5 weeks but I later forgave him for his adulterous actions. Another part of the saga that annoyed me was that he defended his actions stating that in his culture he is allowed to have multiple wives and that I should not fuss about it because I would always be his first wife. Maurice I painfully took his words and despite the hurt I was determined to maintain my family no matter what.
Maurice asks,
It’s probably an obvious question but did you by any chance identify the kind of man you were dating before you married him; did you sense his traditionalist character?
She replied,
Yes I knew the kind of man he was and still is. I knew about his believes in regards to the family unit. I knew that his extended family led a certain life style where men married more than one wife so in a way I knew it may affect me however I also thought that he would discuss it with me and not impregnate a house help behind my back. I am very well aware that men who practice polygamy will always consult with their existing wife or wives before they introduce another woman to the family I never got that memo. Living with my husband has been an experience and I have learnt a lot about male unorthodox practices and behaviours.
Maurice’s comments,
You have been married long enough to assess your man and you have clearly accepted his character and the actions that come with that character, you also imply you know men pretty well, so at this point I must admit I am puzzled because I haven’t determined what it is you need from me?
She replied,
Maurice to my horror I recently found out from my husband’s close friend that he has 2 more children with the house help. I then visited her at her upcountry home and she confirmed the same. He built her a 3 bedroom house and apparently over the years he has been visiting her and spending weekends with her. In my mind it all added up because I prodded information from her about dates and she confirmed a lot. He supports her and guess what? His family knew about it, and behind my back she was traditionally confirmed as a second wife and life went on as if I never existed.
But here is the icing on the cake. While we were candidly chatting she happened to mention that in 2008 my husband acquired himself a young 19 year old girl from his home area and she has a 2 year old baby. It is alleged that he is in the process of confirming her. She is currently living with her parents but from what I hear he has received blessings to marry her and educate her through her campus years.
Maurice asks,
I must ask, is your husband wealthy? I mean, in this day and age it’s not easy to keep 3 wives.
She replied,
Well the man has a full time job as a company MD and 2 personal businesses so I guess he can afford the life style he chooses to live. I am a house wife but I also run a successful business which was funded by my husband over a decade ago.
I am lacking companionship, a loving full time husband, a man who only wants to be with me because I never thought I would share my man yet I am doing it everyday.
Maurice asks,
Do you really truly still love your husband or are you there because it’s an easier option to maintain status quo, the devil you know syndrome?
She replied,
Maurice I love that man. Whenever he comes home he finds a cooked meal waiting and I still share a bed with him and we still share intimate moments. During that period I shut out all other thoughts and enjoy every minute spent with him. I know I sound odd but love is a powerful feeling and I can’t ever leave him despite all the things he has put me through.
I want to tell him that I know about his other women and that I don’t care about that part of his life but he now needs to only provide for them and become exclusive to me. I need to feel like the woman he married. I am a very balanced and practical woman I cannot change what has occurred but I would like to believe that I have a future with my husband exclusively. I still have a lot of love and passion for him, so how can I convert him for him to see that I am all he needs in a woman?
Maurice replies,
My dear I would love to tell you that your current irregular relationship status will change in time but let’s review the facts. You have been married for a long time and from the beginning you knew the character you were marrying. Playing the supportive wife you allowed for things to escalate over the years. Your husband got another woman pregnant early in your marriage and in my opinion I believe there was never an honest heart to heart between you to share and establish a foundation of honesty and trust that would limit a repeat occurrence hence the additional kids with his first mistress, if I may call her that, and now there’s a third woman with child.
I believe that your husband suffers from a kind of narcissistic personality disorder. Let me shed some light to this behavior; your husband has worked hard to acquire not only a top management post but also 2 businesses. He craves ‘prestige’ and his wealth gives him that. He also craves to feel like a man which comes in many forms, in his case he has ‘power’ as a boss and he maintains 3 women and unlike the common trend in many men he makes sure that all his women are well catered for. And that he does not do out of the goodness of his loving heart, some may disagree but that’s my opinion. He may be the most loving man on the planet but his compulsive nature drives him to believe that he can love many women. My last hypothesis is that your husband at some stage of his life may have experienced a state of feeling inadequate and formulated a strategy to work hard, acquire what he needed to feel that he has conquered the World and you have been part of that development.
You can try and convert him as you put it, but I don’t see that path bearing any fruit. Your only viable option is to sustain the life you have led with your husband, cherish those moments you described and endeavor to make them as regular as possible. You have chosen to stay with him so as a practical woman it’s now your turn to strategize on ways of keeping your husband occupied.
Follow his blog on http://mauricetherapy.wordpress.com
Connecting Life’s Dots •-•
There is a writer whose strap line is ‘Tattooing great things on willing minds’. Her name is Brain Tattoo and she lives up to it. You will agree with me that her style is simple yet profoundly deep. Like tapestry, her well woven words always paint a great ‘bigger picture’ in the end. Happy reading!
•••
Written by Brain Tattoo
It has been a week since the passing of Apple icon Steve Jobs.
I remember waking up last Monday to the news of his death on BBC, and feeling very sad … in the same way that Princess Diana’s death affected me (understandably, she was our modern day Princess, the closest thing to all the fairy tales we read as children).
I am not sure why for I am not particularly techie and do not even aspire to have an i-pad, i-phone or any of those i-gadgets. However, I was left hating cancer, pondering its cruelty and thinking that there must be some way out.
Perhaps, it was because his death came so close to that of Professor Wangari Maathai who had also passed away from some form of cancer. Perhaps it was because her death had awakened an instinct to protect myself. Perhaps it was because my gynae, while doing my annual pap smear, had discussed with me the availability of a vaccine that protects against the virus that causes cervical cancer.
Whatever the reason, I found myself listening yet again to his famous 2005 Stanford Commencement address, “Stay hungry. Stay foolish.”
I had listened to it a couple of years back, and been inspired. But now… in light of his recent death, his words seem to have more gravity, more meaning. It felt like he was speaking to me from beyond the grave and reminding me ever so subtly, that life is not a rehearsal; we only get this one chance to do it. I think that on that day, I could have conquered Mt. Everest if it was the challenge before me, but it wasn’t.
It has been a week since then; a week of pondering his message and trying to fit it into my life.
I’ve gone through a myriad of feelings; jealousy, for people like him who know from very early on what they want to do with their life; envy for the others who have the courage to pursue their dreams; confusion on how to go about living my dream… ; and finally, acceptance that there is no single method of living purposefully. What should matter is whether I am pursuing meaning in my life.
I am reminded of a saying I’ve heard; that life is like a tapestry. From up close, you can only see the threads woven together looking messy but if you stand far away and look at the whole picture, the view will be perfect and meaningful.
Perhaps, while some of us may know the path required to start out on our life’s journey early enough, for the majority of us, the picture may only become clearer when we look back on the criss-crossing of our life’s paths.
In my life so far, I’ve worked in so many sectors that from where am sitting it is hard to see the bigger picture. I’ve been a customer service rep in retail, worked in a bank, been a nurse assistant and physiotherapy assistant, done development work and actually managed to raise funds…etc
Today, I can say that my customer service experience has come in very handy in my job. I don’t know where the rest of the experience will fit in but for right now, I can sincerely say that his death was a reminder to ‘trust that the dots will connect somewhere in the future’.
It was a reminder that whatever I do (so long as am doing it), I must weave that thread to the best of my ability if it is to contribute to the perfect picture.
So… until I can move on to the next thread, colour, pattern; here’s to weaving this thread picture perfectly.
•••
You can follow and read Brain Tattoo’s work on http://braintattoo.wordpress.com/
The Final Jack – Grandma And Her Two Cents Worth
I have no words to explain how beautifully Flo Mwangi has put everything into perspective. I literally feed from her words. She has mastered the art of making sense out of the melee that has become the tipping point of many a relationship. I believe that if she’s not careful, she could end up as an undisputed best seller or with me. I present to you my Final Jack.
…
By Flo Mwangi
Every time I speak to her over the phone or pay her a visit, I am left reeling in laughter and with plenty of food for thought. This is why I cannot wait to see her over my vacation, plus she made me promise to anyway seeing as how she is in her grace years as she likes to call them; kind of like extra time where that whistle can go off any minute. And this she says with a hint of laughter. I tell her she’ll be around for quite a while. She is a tough nut.
My grandma; I don’t even know where to begin with the phenomenal that is this woman. I am overcome with emotion whenever I think of her; this woman who raised me and to whom I remain forever indebted, who shaped my ideals, who I feel a deep and profound love and adoration for. I am in awe of her sheer strength, her unshakeable Faith, her compassionate nature, her wit and wisdom and her charm. She has lived to see four generations; now that’s a fit and all generations through we appreciate and hold her in high regard. She has touched each of our lives in a special way. We all have a tale to tell as far as this wonderful woman is concerned.
For me it’s the first few years of my life which I spent with her. When my mum was off completing her undergrad studies, my grandma nurtured me. I applaud my mother; having me young did not stop her from pursuing her dreams, and achieving them, she made no excuses, expected no sympathy nor loved me any less. She took it all in stride and pressed on. I am truly proud of her. Those are some wonderful memories -me and my grandma- I still fondly remember this lovely little basket she kept in the living room, especially for me, filled with juicy oranges freshly picked from the garden by her, which I was treated to after a long day at school, and we all know school can be pure torture for a kid. I remember her dressing me up for church every Sunday and me sitting up next to her at the front pew. She has always played an active role in church; I admire her Faith evident in all she does and passionately stands for. She is an astute believer in God’s overall role in every aspect of our lives from creation, to our daily existence.
Her Faith inspires and rouses all around her and has remained unmoved by the changing tides of time and circumstance. And it has been tested no doubt. She was not bitter at the passing of Grandpa -if anything we all drew strength from her- and as he lay in hospital, those last painful days, no one needed to tell her he was gone. She knew the exact moment he had breathed his last. How many of us can boast of such a connection with their spouse? The love those two shared I’ll be forever in awe of. They were inseparable and in an age where expressions of love or treating each other as equals was not too common, I have to commend those two.
Submission as I have observed through her is not losing oneself rather it is appreciating each other’s role in a relationship and having mutual respect for each other. It’s not about yelling matches but learning to listen -difficult as it maybe- while the other is talking and then stating your case as you would to a friend and finding a middle ground, compromise. And of all else a lifetime partner should first be a friend, because for such a commitment there’s a lot more at play beyond all the temporary fiery passions. It’s not about who ‘wears the pants’ in a relationship it’s about recognizing each other’s strengths and building on them and collectively applying them to build something of value. It’s not about finding fault and playing on each other’s weaknesses but rather compromise; there’s what initially attracts you to your partner, the mistake we make over time is averting our eyes from these wonderful things and focusing instead on each other’s shortcomings and before we know it we no longer feel the same, we become revolted by the sight of each other, we begin to fall out of love. You need to revert your focus back to what drew you to that person in the first place, it’s all still there you just became blinded to it over time. In doing this you will begin to cherish each other more and rekindle the flame once again. We easily loose those that we love because we never take time to make it work.
She was always meek with grandpa; she let him hold the fort while she was run the show behind the scene. He adored her; his respect for her was evident. She was forever at his side, never behind him. He valued her insight. They’d claw at each other sometimes but the love was never lost and in no time they’d be laughing over a joke either of them cracked. They were a vision of happiness those two. Never did they keep in silence or let the sun go down on an argument. And when he was taken ill, she was by his side till the very end.
She is appalled at the sham we have turned the marriage institution into. Women no longer appreciate their role in marriage –we feel so liberated now we want to steer the family ship in complete disregard of the men. Men on the other hand appear to have lost sight of what their role is exactly. A marriage is a partnership, a union, not a power struggle, going about it as such beats the whole point of getting into one in the first place.
Dear enlightened woman -not all men are evil and they do like to be in charge and that’s unlikely to change. Let him reign, play up his ego once in a while. So what if you are more educated? Or make more money than he does? It doesn’t make him any less of a man and there really is no point in rubbing it in, making him feel inferior in the process, that is cold and uncalled for.
Dear man – excessive control over your woman is not how you assert authority, neither is aggression. Take care of your own, always, evading responsibility is a sign of weakness and just plain unacceptable. Applaud your woman’s achievements, complement her, support and protect her and please work in some romance while you’re at it, we dig that. Companionship is human nature. It is possible for two people to share a happy and fulfilling life together so long as they keep their pride and ego in check, and learn not to blow up trivialities. If there’s a problem, nip it in the bud; keeping it in only yields more problems that are even harder to resolve.
They upheld the value of hard work, respect for self and others, discipline, were virtues that were engrained into us from the minute one could walk. I remember we’d all get up early, my cousins and I, and join them as they set out to pick flowers, we just loved running in the endless beautiful fields; picking and laughing and playing our way through. Whatever the tasks we did them together making them less daunting. We might have been up to our necks with chores -that’s inevitable when you’re living on a farm- but we were all content because we understood what needed to be done and everyone’s role in all of it and the whooping one got if they failed to do what was assigned to them. I had quite an early start on all matters work. At the end of the day when we were all done we ran around in the grass (my grandma’s yard has the softest, forget carpeted) and played in the moonlight till she called us back to the house when it got late. One thing I admired about them is how they treated their workers; feeding them -on a daily- paying them well and on time. It was a valuable relationship they had, one of mutual respect and beneficial to all.
She is a fiery one my grandma, despite her diminutive nature. She needs no amplifier when she needs to be heard. She speaks her mind. She, just like many who watched as the country fought for and attain independence knows the true price of freedom. We should not take democracy for granted; we just need to look at other oppressed states and the turmoil they’re in to appreciate its worth. Allowing ourselves be influenced by our selfish so-called leaders who most times don’t see beyond their noses is truly a sad affair. Stay informed; knowledge is power. Love thy neighbor and seek divine guidance in all you do. On a lighter note she doesn’t get the logic of my prancing around in 7-inch heels which in her view are uncomfortable and worse still might leave me with a damaged ankle. I of course promptly remind her of the sky-high platforms that they rocked in their hey days 🙂
She still went and got me the loveliest boots though, and what do you know, they were high heeled -how sweet. She misses the point in walking around in clothes that are barely there, we might as well walk around naked “oh how times have changed” she mourns. “Didn’t they rock them shorter in the 60’s and 70’s?” I argue, “Well back in those days people were definitely not as blatant or half as wild as the lot of you is today, running around like all the blood done rushed to your heads” she quips. She’s not overly cynical, she appreciates that times have changed, yes, what she can’t stand is how our values have become eroded over time. And I don’t blame her, a shameful lot we have become indeed; self-centered, egotistic. It’s all about self-interest, the age we’re living in; success at whatever cost, self-gain in relationships. Whatever happened to extending a hand to one in need? Most of us have lost sense of direction we live as though we are of no purpose and are more of a burden than of value to those around us. Spirituality has become fourth nature to us; no wonder we’re lost. “God save us all” she pleads.
She is loved and cherished by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. To live to see 83 and make light of the challenges that come with old age is a reflection of a self-assurance one can only hope for, an amiable strength.
She is blessed. In my eyes she is a legacy and I am proud to bear her name.
I Do Coke. I Do Jack – Two! The Reply
-Mikey
You ask ‘who are we gaining independence from’…I’ll tell you. And it has less to do with this generation and more to do with our forefathers that passed this down. Off course ‘Independent man’ sounds silly. In the same way that say ‘colourless water’ sounds silly.
The man has always been independent…The term independent is almost synonymous with the word Man. Society (as far back as African traditional history goes and pretty much many other traditions) has always painted the woman as a dependant and one that needs provision by a man. This in itself is not toxic. What is ugly and what we are seeking ‘independence’ from is the scorn accorded to the said species as a result of this perception that she cannot provide for herself.
You and I agree that yes she can provide and depend on herself…but when she loves you she will let you do these things because you love her but with a full understanding that she can do it for herself. It shouldn’t be a choice of independence or love. I think an independent woman is easier to love.
The journey of life is much better travelled with someone. While you say a man’s needs are simply to have an eat-drink-work-sleep-play lifestyle, remember to leave room for what she wants to do other than stand beside you and watch you eat drink work sleep and play.
Superman didn’t find Loise Lane sitting there doing nothing. She was at work. There is more trouble out there to get into for superman to come save her from 🙂
Nyambura
Earthquake – The Japanese Canadian Experience
In the wake of the Japanese earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster; I think I speak for most of us when I say my heart goes out to those affected by the ongoing “controlled chaos”.
Today’s guest is not only a dear friend of mine, but also a brother whom I’ve grown up with in Toronto. The author of ‘The Japanese Canadian’relocated back to Tokyo a few years back, and yes, he survived the earthquake. His firsthand accounts of the disaster are chilling and heart-wrenching. Check out his blog for more real stories from a very real person.
– Susan Wong
…
By Kentaro Ichimori
Three weeks… is how long it has been since the earthquake hit the east coast of Japan. It has been such a learning experience.
- I learned that Japan could probably withstand the worst earthquakes, and still remain standing.
- I learned that all the damage which comes to Japan with earthquakes, happens immediately after the earthquake.
- I learned that Japanese people can still come together as a community, even at times of duress.
- I learned that I have a hard time being a part of that community.
- I learned that no matter how many years I am here, I am Japanese-Canadian, and not Japanese.
The damage in Japan has been colossal, with almost 30000 dead or missing. The television broadcasts censored bits of information regarding the recovery efforts and the people who are coming together to help the community. Indeed it’s a great scene to know that people are helping each other out, as that positive effort is what the community needs to see.
In Tokyo, I still see the daily affects that the earthquakes has on the city of Tokyo. The shelves at the grocery store and convenience stores are empty. In certain stores, soft drinks are still available, but in others, there is no water, no drinks and no alcohol. The daily things such as toilet paper and tissue paper are still relatively scarce, and there are limitations on many things that people can purchase like water. The land in certain areas which are man made, have buckled under the pressure of the shaking from the earthquake. The shortage of power in the Greater Tokyo Area has caused many people and industries to go on stand-by for rolling black outs. Although the everybody has playing a big role in helping to save energy, with so little lights, every night is a reminder that Tokyo is also on life support, still not fully recovered from the damage.
Then there’s everything else with political parties, elections and nuclear power plants, but honestly, everyone has a different stance on that, and everyone is entitled to their opinion about it. It’s too serious and too touchy to discuss on here, so I will leave that debate for another time.
I felt strongly, that life is precious, and I shouldn’t plan for things that don’t matter to me. Every single day of my life, I should be striving to be the best that I can be, and I should strive to make my surroundings feel that I am able to contribute to by being my best. At the same time, if I am unable to gain understanding for my goals and aspirations, and be told be the image that someone believes me to be, then I have to make a choice of whether I should hold faith in the life that others promise me, or to take control of the path I feel that I should be going on. There’s many uncertainties, and many will say, “you should be doing this” or “you shouldn’t be doing that”, but the only true answer is “what “I” want to do”.
“What I want to do”, and “where I am now” are the two answers that I will strive to have an answer for. Everything in between is what I “should” be doing.
Visit Ichomori’s website at http://www.thejapanesecanadian.org
15 MINUTES OF FAME
Ahenda Anjichi is back again, this time on a mission. She is out to create awareness on this long standing challenge of HIV and AIDs. The first time I read this post I couldn’t help acknowledging the weight of her words. It is my hope that this message spreads far and wide. If you are not infected, you must be affected. I take this opportunity to launch the first awareness campaign on this blog. Let’s call it A Minute of Silence. Thank you Ahenda.
…
“My feet sort of just glided haphazardly from the seat of my car, ankles angrily exerting force onto the tarmacked parking as I made my way to the side entrance of the white building. So many thoughts were racing through my mind, why am I even still walking? I couldn’t feel the ground but I felt myself moving. There was a buzz of activity around me. A pregnant woman who just looked void of all human energy was standing by the main entrance, her husband/boyfriend/friend/baby daddy hunched over her attentively…I whizzed past them, smelt her cheap perfume and grimaced.
My feet pounded on relentlessly, I wanted to slower my pace but I guess after being up since 3 AM and having thought about this all night, I was here. Some unnatural forces were pushing my body, against my will to the first floor.
A gust of hot air hit me as I emerged into the semi-packed waiting area. I sat down on the plastic covered seats, not quite sure what to do or how to do it-my thoughts were louder than the baby wailing in its mother’s arms next to me and I only heard a whisper next to me when the white cladded receptionist/nurse tapped my shoulder and repeated her question five times, obviously irritated by my absent-mindedness. I nodded.
“Yes” was the choked reply.
Five minutes later, I was half walking behind her and half running out the door, my body feeling like a 5 ton truck and my heart pounding against my ribcage.
‘What the hell am I doing here?‘
She led me into a tiny room, at the end of the hall and all of a sudden my heart stopped beating, my feet refused to move and I stared in blank wonder at the white walls and statistic charts adorning the walls.
I was offered a seat stood there as she rambled on, talking nonsense because I wanted to forget I was there.
10 minutes later,
Time sort of stopped.
Froze.
Stood still.
My head was spinning so fast, I felt the white walls turning 360 degrees…i had developed malaria: aching joints, fever, hallucinations, and shortness of breath and one hell of a headache…
It’s only when I felt a slap on my face and someone screaming [the fake name I had jotted on the dotted line on that yellow single sheet of paper] and telling me to calm down, that I realized the throbbing headache was actually my heart sinking and the aching joints were as a result of my hitting the floor and table, banging my head against the surface of the floor and my chorus of “OH NO’S!!!” made the hallucinations.
It was like a freaking out-of-body experience! I was watching myself act out this role in a movie and it was not actually happening and I’m not that crazy girl reeling on the floor, bringing attention to herself in that small, white walled room with arms flailing all over and white lab coats straining to pin down my struggling and jerking limbs.
I looked up through my tears and glanced back at the two ugly red lines, which in just FIFTEEN MINUTES had managed to shatter my 24 years of living, by a simple prick to my index finger and small talk of living positively.
In FIFTEEN MINUTES all the people who saw me walking down the hall would remember my draught stricken face and my tear stained cheeks and how concerned the counselor was as she led me back to my car, whispering words of encouragement in my ear that seemed to evaporate into whims of air the minute they left her lips because they didn’t register in my mind, neither did they make any sense-she could have been talking Greek for all I cared.
The world around me was like a bad dream and I was snow white and those two red lines were the evil step mother that had turned my world into gloom.
There was a slow buzzing in my ears and I found myself hunched over the low hedge, violently hurling out the remaining gooey lumps of my breakfast, constantly jerking like I was in an epileptic fit as if to drain every grain of the disease from my system.
I was in a pained trance and I could still feel the warm tears cutting irregular streams down my face.
I could swear that my heart had stopped beating and the quick breathes escaping my nostrils and mouth were my life’s essence seeping out into the noisy world and nobody noticed my frame, slouched next to my car, fingers digging into the tarmac and my arms hugging the front left wheel, hopelessly wishing that I was that cold inanimate object that proudly owns no emotion.
At that very moment, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, because all the stares and glances had me naked and vulnerable and I felt like “HIV POSITIVE” was plastered on my forehead.
I had drove into the hospital just FIFTEEN MINUTES earlier and nobody knew me; now I was just but one of the statistics.
FACT FILE:
DID YOU KNOW??
That-
- Kenya is home to one of the world’s harshest HIV and AIDS epidemics.
- An estimated 1.5 million people are living with HIV; around 1.2 million children have been orphaned by AIDS; and in 2009 80,000 people died from AIDS related illnesses.
- Kenya’s HIV prevalence peaked during 2000 and, according to the latest figures, has dramatically reduced to around 6.3 percent.
- This decline is thought to be partially due to an increase in education and awareness, and high death rates.
- Many people in Kenya are still not being reached with HIV prevention and treatment services. Only 1 in 3 children needing treatment are receiving it.
This demonstrates Kenya still has a long way to go in providing universal access to HIV treatment, prevention and care.
- Kenya’s HIV epidemic has been categorised as generalised – meaning that HIV affects all sectors of the population.
Nearly half of all new infections were transmitted during heterosexual sex whilst in a relationship and 20 percent during casual heterosexual sex.
- HIV prevalence is higher amongst specific groups and tends to differ according to location, gender and age.
- Various studies have revealed high HIV prevalence amongst a number of key affected groups, including sex workers, injecting drug users (IDUs), men who have sex with men (MSM), truck drivers and cross-border mobile populations.
Some of these groups are marginalised within society – for example, homosexuality is illegal in Kenya and punishable by up to 14 years in prison. Therefore these groups are difficult to reach with HIV prevention, treatment and care, and the extent to which HIV is affecting these groups has not been fully explored. Up to 33% of new infections in 2008 were within these ‘most at risk populations’
- In 2008, an estimated 3.8 percent of new HIV infections were among IDUs and in the capital, Nairobi, 5.8 percent of new infections were among IDUs.
Laws prohibiting harm reduction services, such as needle and syringe exchanges, significantly hinder the prevention of new infections among IDUs.27 HIV infections are easily prevented in healthcare settings, nevertheless, 2.5 percent of new HIV infections occurred in health facilities during 2008 in Kenya.
- Women are disproportionally affected by HIV. In 2008/09 HIV prevalence among women was twice as high as that for men at 8% and 4.3% respectively.
This disparity is even greater in young women aged 15-24 who are four times more likely to become infected with HIV than men of the same age.
Kenyan women experience high rates of violent sexual contact, which is thought to contribute to the higher prevalence of HIV. In a 2003 nationwide survey, almost half of women reported having experienced violence and one in four women aged between 12 and 24 had lost their virginity by force
- Adult HIV prevalence is greater in urban areas (8.4 percent) than rural areas (6.7 percent) of Kenya. However, as around 75 percent of people in Kenya live in rural areas, the total number of people living with HIV is higher in rural settings (1 million adults) than urban settings (0.4 million adults)
Source: http://www.avert.org/hiv-aids-kenya.htm
N/B:
Those statistics were as of 2008/2009.
Imagine how the situation is at this moment.
I did a random survey in a mat this morning, asking how many people riding with me to town had ever had an HIV test done.
I was sitted just behind the “kange’s”seat.
Keep in mind that the mat was full.
I managed to talk to the “kange”, the guy behind me, the passengers sitted on the double seats across from me and two guys alighting the mat, and with the Kenyan spirit of “udaku”, the answers chorused around me in the mat.
Out of 14, only 5 had “I have been tested” answers.
Now spread that out across all the mats in the traffic on Msa road at 7.45 AM at the Nyayo round-a-bout inter-section this morning.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
My Wet Dream
As told by Asaph Bryan Change on behalf of a discomfited victim.
Dear diary,
I saw her again today. I didn’t know what to say when she walked right up to me, so in return I stared dead shamelessly, and she walked away with the same chuckle she gave me a fortnight ago when I saw her last. I promised myself that this wouldn’t happen to me after the last time. But it did. Now I’m back to that frenzy of thoughts, and I hate myself for having them rule me again. As much as I’m timid to admit, I can’t hold back my mounting crave.
I thought I had this all under control, that the last time was the last, but seeing her today plunged me back to the gutter of what we did. Damn!
I want it to happen again, I plan on asking her what she felt about it, what she thinks of me now, but the thought of me seating her down for that dialogue sticks me in ice. But I have to find out if it’s mutual. She has to want it as bad as I do, right? I mean, she’s the one who made the first move. But what if she regrets it and would rather it didn’t happen a third time? No, she looked at me the same way she did when we were wrapped in my bed sheets dripping wet in our exhausted state of undress.
She told me not to worry about what they’ll think, so that must mean she regrets none of it. I hate this. I’m torn between doing the right thing and ignoring it all and pursue something so wrong but right to me, to us.
I heard her on the phone saying she’s coming over for a visit tomorrow, so I have until then to rehearse my advance in hopes that the answer I’ll get will have us back into each other’s grip.
I’ll try getting her attention when the rest will be distracted in the delight of laughter and tell her of my request to have a word. Once in the privacy of the both of us, I’ll get straight to the point and disclose my inevitable state of being and ask if it’s what she equally feels. But I know her. She’ll probably lean forward to gently bite my lower lip into an ardent kiss like she does every time we are behind a closed door, but I need to know if this is real to her as it is to me.
I’ve shared this furtive with a close friend and he hated me for this twisted condition I threw myself in, and he’s constantly been reminding me of the clutter this would leave me in. I get where he’s coming from, really, I do. But like she said, I shouldn’t worry about what they think, him included.
A week ago I called and asked her what the big sister would think of this if she found out; for I respect her with the whole of me. For the first time, she froze. She didn’t have an answer. I could sense fear in her silence. But she only told me that her sister needed to never know about us, or any one in that regard. I don’t know what to do. I love her. What we may have is something I want to keep. But her sister, my mother, poses a great impediment. Everyone does.
—
This was a story told to me in full confidence by a dear friend. I do not regret publicly exposing it to you. I needed you to read this and question the number of people out there living in this very situation, most of who breed in it without remorse. Some who can’t stop due to the twisted pleasure they achieve, and a majority who are tempted to initiate.
So, what have you been up to lately?
It’s Never That Serious… Really?
Today’s blogger happens to be one of my best friends who I am always thankful to have met. Meet Linda Muriungi. I have seen her go through the most crucial of life’s stages. She is one of the people I would unflinchingly lay my life down for. She is family. Recently she went through a life threatening situation where she found herself bed-ridden and unconscious. In the darkness that engulfed her, she found her true self. She has a lot to be thankful for and in this post she reminds us that there are more important issues to pay attention to. I’m glad you’re back. This is what she had to say when she came to.
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By Linda Muriungi
They say the best therapy for the soul is to put your thoughts on paper, so today I take this chance to bare my soul. Just for the simple reason of stirring a sense of faith in myself and others. To believe that everything always happens for a reason. To accept that the experiences we go through are meant to challenge us and afford us an opportunity to learn something novel and life altering.
So as I sit here today wondering where to begin with my tale or rather true life experience, my pen comes to life.
As the year began on a good note for some, mine took a turn for the worst. What I went through was one of those things that happen in a split second, that turn your life into a midst of uncertainty and turmoil. How to deal with it and its effects is the test. This incident made me look at myself with a keen eye and it is with coming face to face with such a life altering event that one learns to appreciate life in totality.
You see the worst thing about the ordeal, was that I never saw it coming. I went about my normal life yet the clock was counting down to that fateful day. And thereafter, my wall came crashing down. I wondered, why me? Why now! Was this part of God’s plan? Then again, I worried about how soon I would get back up.
Good news, I made it. Two months down the line and have never been more true to myself as I am now. How you may ask? It simply took the willpower to make my situation better, faith in my Father (God) who at some point I had almost given up on, and the presence of my family & friends who all stood by me every step of the way. You see, to get better in whatever situation; you need lots of laughter, stress relievers and hope. Figure out what you want to achieve and work towards achieving that goal. It is all about determination which gives one the strength to continue, the steadiness to succeed, and the wisdom to slip past difficulties undisturbed.
All I needed was some sort of assurance that it would be okay. And it now is.
The trick to handling such experiences, and trust me I know how tough it is to keep on keeping on, to smile at the world and yet you are dying inside, is to simply; stay positive (encourage yourself with simple phrases, they will mean a lot to you despite the simplicity in the words) maintain good friendships (keep positive people around you), keep your family close (they got this uncanny way of loving and caring for you when you need it the most) and lastly pray until something happens, as the track for Kanji Mbugua goes… P.U.S.H ON (Somehow I have never been this close to God, He’s kept me sane in a time of chaos)
Now it’s time for me to live my life, smile as I face the world with my head held up as I tackle the everyday challenges. I will try to take each experience positively and see it as an opportunity to be a stronger and better person. The thing is, it’s life & it happens. The point is to never let anything take your spirit, we are all one slight adjustment from making our lives work for the better.
Things We Never Say Part III
‘As I read ‘Things We Never Say‘ by Ahenda and Michael, I got thinking and reflecting… You know how some chiqs try to force into a man’s heart and world even when they know it will be a futile battle. She knows he is drowning in another chiq’s love…but she won’t quit. Some are prudent and recognize it…They then concede. Thanx Mike for another opportunity..and to Ahenda, my childhood pal for helping unblock the writer’s block I was facing…’
–Liz Lenjo
Dear Michael,
Remember me? We met after your huge break up with your ex-girlfriend…What was her name? Ahaaa…Ahenda it is. I remember how we met: the little kahawa shop just by your office. You were starring at her picture. You looked so lost, drowning in the memory of her.
“He is so cute!” I thought to myself. That is why I sat next to you. I could see the hurt, the confusion and the sadness in how you would hold your cup of coffee; staring at it as though wishing it was beer. I knew I had a soul to rescue…a heart to save. Perhaps to save and have it for keeps. Hopefully change my ever bad luck with men.
You said hi back at me…and you did not find my obvious stares rude. I had to ask what was bugging you. And you opened up. In your voice I could feel your admiration and adoration for your lost love. A soul mate you called her. You were not certain why the two of you ended but you felt it was right. You kept trying to convince yourself that you would get over her and move on. Move on to another love with sparks as hot and cosmic as the previous.
I thought I was going to be IT-The answer to your heart ache, and the plaster to your heart break. It was an exercise in futility, but nonetheless, I had to give it a shot. You were my soldier, wounded in the cruel war…war of love. I hoped I was going to be the nurse…the nurse that puts you back together and wins you over. I wanted to be your knight and shining armour.
I wanted so bad to believe that you would like me…all the while, you were looking for the Ahenda in me. I could see it in your wishful eyes. You once asked me why I never loosened up and hang around in my undies…I was shy! I had tough shoes to fill, and I couldn’t be her. You cannot deny it Michael, you wished I were her. And now as I read your letters to her, I know I was fighting a losing battle. But I could not resist…Your charm, your smile…your finesse! I saw what Ahenda saw in you. But you could not see me for me…you were blinded. Blinded by a passion so strong and a bond so tight…sealed by destiny. Fate did not have it in store for a possible you and me…sigh!
I was surprised you had me around for so long…I knew I was fooling myself. But the desire to have you love me and want me like you constantly did her got the best of me. I was warned but I did not listen. Two years Mike!? What took you so long? What took me so long? I guess you were smutten…smitten…arrgggh! What is it about her? Now just after two months since we broke up, you are marrying her? Worst still, on the day of our ‘anniversary’? The first day I laid my eyes on you at the little kahawa shop by your office.
I should have just walked away…But then again, I concede. I raise my hat to the queen that captured your heart so…and dominated your entirety. May be I will be lucky someday to be an Ahenda to another lad…Only difference I will be an Elizabeth…Me!
Like Queen Elizabeth II remains in the English throne, he will be my dynasty…sans threats, sans insecurity.
My hat off to Ahenda…I concede. Love him like he loves you. Adore him like he adores you. I couldn’t steal his heart: It belonged to you in the first place! He is yours FOREVER.
…
I must confess I was sad when we finished the sequel for ‘Things We Never Say‘. The response from my readers was overwhelming! Almost all wanted the third issue. Well, the beautiful Liz Lenjo has saved the day. She has added an interesting angle to the whole saga. These are the things we go through in our lives. Liz Lenjo‘s words are powerful and sensual. She is a lawyer. I can’t help smiling when I try to imagine how she would present a case in court. Just don’t dare go up against her.
– Michael Ngigi
The Play Pen
This week I introduce to you Asaph Bryan Change, probably one of the most creative and sick minds I have come across. If you ever feel the need to have a disgusting conversation about mucus and bathroom soap scum he’s your guy. On a more serious note, I have to admit he is a brilliant writer on relationships and everything else. I just hope what he writes won’t land him in any trouble. Finally, I have to say that the opinions herein do not necessarily represent anyone’s belief in particular but just one of the major global challenges.
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By Asaph Bryan Change
A story is often told of love and the forever after that falls in place, and my question always seeks answers to why we are blinded from the false front of this ‘pairs’ I see around looking like they’ve been squeezed out of those love stories we read about. Another question that I at times ask myself is whether this two find full fulfillment in each other or do they individually face greed in the face and seduce it into eating them alive. Allow me to explain.
Men have for many years, faced scrutiny for being generous with their attention to the sometimes unaware and most of the time willing members of the beautiful opposite gender; but what has come to the attention of the current error which I regret to be identified with is the emerging population of women who have joined the sport men have been playing for a long while. It’s been called the pay-back-time retribution, what he can do she can do better; but what I strongly believe is that it’s a pure case of something that has always existed. She didn’t just wake up one day and decide to hit back, she has been equally generous with herself since memorial in time.
We have faithful men out there priding in relationships they think grow groomed in reliance, but what he’s subconsciously exposed to is the painful fact that his spouse reigns in the wide selection of men who don’t have to cater for material or emotional needs, she has them just for the aimless reason men see the need to look back into the toilet seat after a lengthy session just before they flash. Nothing.
Men, face it – she’s just more gifted than we’ll ever be in this thing here. We fail when it comes to those small things called guilt and recklessness. It comes in as soon as we get home and look at that ever-loving and welcoming face that has been doing the very same thing. We twitch in fear of her seeing what we’ve done written all over our forehead while the very same secret exists in her. We’ve done it for years, but what has been an unknown fact is that she’s done it for centuries. I’ll give you a pointer that I have noticed in the many relationships I’ve seen taking place around me. I won’t go all traditional and tell you of things you already know like she’ll stop looking you in the face when talking to you, or that she’ll start blaming you for the smallest things. Those are things she won’t need reasons to do. I’ll just lay it down plain and simple in one sad fact so you can confirm facts that I’m certain you’ve been suspecting but never quite came around to having the scrotums to confront.
The sad reality is that she’ll probably never be caught. She’s that good. I’ll give you a very familiar scenario to justify my claim, one that I once noticed some time back and got me astonished as to how closely related it is to this whole thing.
I attended my nephew’s fourth birthday party sometime last year, and as goes such functions, it was manifested by small adorable things that pleasure in junk food, toys, ample space to run around, urinating in sand-boxes and wailing uncontrollably after getting their heads wedged in the smallest of places. So there I was running after the few that I could while negotiating sanity with some that could actually stop to listen to what I had to offer, and what I noticed answered the question that has inspired this article. I stood in the middle of that play-pen with like five girls and three boys within my view, and as they went about their individual play I realized how neat these girls were compared to the boys who had dirt from their heads to their insides. The two groups clearly had different modes of achieving fun with the girls consciously opting to have their dolls within reach and surrounding neat while the boys ran round unaware of the mess they pleasured in. The way that picture bluntly resembled this edge of live left me in stitches.
Women and men both acknowledge the ecstasy of jumping into the playground every once more often, but what makes her get the upper hand is the fact that she’s neater, better planned out with her subjects within eye-view. He on the unfortunate hand is careless, handles all this ‘toys’ at once without consideration of where one will land once he throws it in the air or where he’s squirmy self is seated before he seconds later stands to resume his movement with dirt stuck on his sad behind.
You will never find out what dolls she has been dressing [and undressing]. But she will however often spot the dirt you stupidly bring home.
So call her up, ask how her day is, listen carefully to her reply because you will not pick any grime in her tone; but she’ll hear your evidently panting voice you try hold back after a time well spent on the swing.
This is what I think; she’ll never step out of the playground, for many reasons known best to her. She pleasures difference. So if you’ll seat there secretly justifying why you being the one with the acclaimed nuts to test your so called skill, take a time-out and acknowledge the reality that she’s very much in the game; only a couple of more rows head of you. She’s better at it; you’re not. She hides it best; you walk around with it under your nose. She won’t stop; you’ll always be vulnerable to being caught. In fact, you’ve been caught a couple of times if not many, right? And all this goes on while you have nothing on her. Face it.
Happily ever after to you and yours.
The Rich Notes
By Jimmy Mwangi
I have to start by commending all the writers who contribute to this blog. Finding a way with words is one of the most fascinating elements of a human brain. With Words, you get along. You’re peas in a pod. Like peanut butter and jelly. Big Up guys!! Amazingly talented. Well having read a very beautifully articulated piece titled ‘Pick Up the Phone !‘, a few thoughts have been lingering in my mind. Well, lets see how well it goes….
The CNN reporter in the background announces … another increase in poor nations aid. The World Bank said yesterday that it would almost triple lending this year, to help prevent ‘HUMAN CRISIS’ in developing countries and maybe turmoil in financial markets… I’m sure we hear this everyday. its sad that its even become background noise and we fail to realize that what they are actually describing is US! …. Machiavelli said ‘the reason why there is no change is because the people who stand to loose from change have all the power and the people who stand to gain from the change have none of the power.. what he actually described was the global structure of rich and poor in today’s society!
Would you call yourself rich?
If your answer to that was not a yes, then you are in trouble! For over 40 years as a country, we’ve been asking ourselves what causes poverty? As much as there are various challenges linked to the increased difficulty in the prosperity of Africans, I believe one major issue has contributed to the now created system of economic and personal slavery. Something that has colonized our minds and continues to plummet this country. We are actually the biggest problem! All along, we’ve been asking the wrong question. what we should be asking ourselves is what causes Wealth? Hold that thought though, don’t be too quick to think that by wealth I mean money.
Let me introduce you to a very simple idea. One that has changed my thinking in the way I work, in the way I do stuff and in the way I operate in society. How do we explain when some things don’t work the way we assumed? or better still, how do we explain when some people seem to achieve all the things that seem to defy all the assumptions? For example, why is Apple so innovative? Year after year they seem to be more innovative than any of the other companies within their category and yet, they are just a computer company. They are just like anyone else. They have access to the same talent, same consultancies, same media? Why is it that they seem to have something different?
Why is it that the Wright brothers achieved the discovery of controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air flight, while there were certainly other teams that were better qualified, better funded and in better positions to achieve this? There is something else at play here. As it turns out, there is a pattern, all the greatest leaders and organizations of the world, think and act in the same exact way and its the complete opposite to anyone else. This whole idea comes from one of my most favorite speakers and orators Simon Sinek through a simple concept he calls ‘The Golden Circle.’ Its probably the worlds simplest idea.
3 things. The Why, The How, The What! This simple idea explains why some individuals or organizations continuously inspire while others aren’t. Let me explain the terms really quickly. Every single person on the planet understands what they do. Some know how they do it. Whether through certain proprietary processes etc. Unfortunately very few of us understand WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO. By why I do not mean to make profit(money). Thats always a result. What I mean is: what’s your cause? What’s the reason you wake up in the morning? What’s your belief? Why should anyone care? As a result the way we think has always been from the clearest thing (The What) to the fuzziest thing (The Why) whereas inspired individuals or organizations regardless of their size always start with THE WHY! let me give you an example.
If Apple were like everyone else, here’s an example of how a communication message from them would sound:
We make great computers (The What)
They are beautifully designed, easy to use and user friendly (The How)
Wanna buy one? (The Why)
Completely uninspiring don’t u agree? and thats how most of us think. “Hi my name Mary and I work long hours with minimum supervision. I am self driven and I am a go getter. Please hire me”. The culture that has formed the roots of entrepreneurial journeys in this country does not inculcate such beliefs and therefore continuously end up not contributing to growth of our economies. Politicians with their 10 point plans continue to fill our screens with nonsense that is taking us absolutely nowhere. Some of the relationships we find ourselves in have no basis or reason for existence whatsoever. We say what we do, we say how its different and expect some sort of influence or vote. It’s simply uninspiring and unsustainable.
So here’s how Apple actually communicates;
Everything we do, we believe in challenging the status quo. We believe in thinking differently (The Why)
The way we do this is by making our products easy to use, beautifully designed and user friendly (The How)
We just happen to make great computers. Wanna buy one? (The What)
Totally different huh? Inspiring? All we did was reverse the order of information. What is simply proves to us is that people don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it. We create influence buy building a ‘cause’ not by selling a reason. Individuals who are driven by a cause shall manage to build influence and success in whatever they do. Companies that sell their cause, will succeed in building influences.
I am a firm believer of Building Passion in whatever we do and this is where its starts. Starting with ‘Why’ may just as well be the first step in personal prosperity as Africans. It might just as well be the first quantum leap to breaking out into wealth which in my translation starts in the mind.
Whatever personal aspirations we have, whatever entrepreneurial aspirations we have, lets build purpose into it, maybe its time we started killing our ‘Mental Poverty’…. Lets build Wealth!
Have a Wealthy day!
Wonder Where They All Are..
Flo Mwangi is a gifted writer who is known for her golden words. Maybe it is in the way she presents real-life-familiar situations that leaves readers wanting more, or it could be the way she speaks to me. I have to admit, she is one beautiful soul that I will forever be thankful to ever have met. Intelligent, reliable and well grounded. I also have to admit that I had to talk to her nicely just so she could let me publish this article. Take in her words and maybe then will you find out the reason why I am a hopeless fan. I am clearly biased.
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By Flo Mwangi
I was musing about how interactions with people over the course of our lives has influenced and shaped us. Right from a tender age, from your teachers and playmates back in grade school, your first crush. I remember mine, my first crush, I thought I really loved him then again what did I know about love at that age? For all I knew love could’ve been the wonder of a beautiful butterfly fluttering about, or that wonderful feeling I got when mum came home from work with some goodies, or when we did those lovely family picnics, or when my best-friend carried extra snacks just for me, oh the excitement!! But it was so much fun just being together I mean we did not overburden each other with unrealistic expectations we accepted everyone as they were, one big happy family we all were, every day seemed like a holiday, there was so much harmony. And all these were manifestations of love in its simplest and purest form, we of course complicate it along the way as we grow up and life happens.
One thing I miss about being young is how despite of whatever catastrophes’/disasters might’ve been going on about us, we remained completely oblivious and so grounded in the moment it’s like we existed in a protective bubble and everything just bounced off of us. Nothing mattered more to us than the moment, we were not burdened by the worries and cares of tomorrow. We had so much energy, it’s like life just flowed through us and then growing up just saps it out of us *sigh* Where’s the time machine??
Ok maybe all was not rosy but our greatest fears, which at the time seemed life threatening, were school bullies and the meanies who in their torment sure sharpened our survival skills; we knew just when to sprint and what not to say around who and that just about covered everything. The meanies, now that’s a frustrated lot in life; you spend your life bringing nothing but agony and grief to others and think Karma will just pass you on by? Think about it though, if it weren’t for all those encounters we wouldn’t be who we are. All those people showed us how to live like we do. Whether it’s my ex best friends who I really don’t know how we grew apart, or past loves. I sure have had experiences of what love is and isn’t.
To those I loved but never showed it enough and they were taken from me too soon or we just drifted apart, and they took away a piece of my heart. I might not be able take that back, much as I wish I could, but from that I sure learnt to appreciate and cherish loved ones better for as long as I still have them around. Then there are those that have been there from the start whose loyalties haven’t changed even in the tides of time. Timeless friendships and unions; the beauty of such people is I never need to explain myself to them because they understand me and love me, faults and all, and they only want what’s best for me. They’re ever challenging/inspiring me to be better. And not even my worst profanities can keep them away.
But I’d have to say the lessons I hold dear were from those that scarred me. Right from*Stacy who couldn’t stop running her mouth about me in grade school, for a long while I thought the problem was with me while clearly baby girl had bigger issues. All that bad mouthing was just a projection of her own shortcomings and nothing to do with me. And the likes of *Stacy don’t change much even in adulthood. But knowing that people will always have an opinion about me and how I should run mine, and that I cannot for the life of me please everyone, helps me deal with all that -if you ain’t got nothing constructive to say you could keep going till you’re out of breathe and drop dead for all I care. To *Mark whose broken soul I was so bent on loving till it mended until l I realized no amount of loving would fix his broken self. Positive change can only be brought about by one’s own acceptance that indeed they do have a problem and genuinely seeking out solutions to that problem. Love is just not enough if the one you love has no willingness to change for the better, no matter how much of it you give, and making up excuses for them trying to cover up for their flaws does not help the situation either. Hoping that you can love someone enough to change them is deluding oneself. Before long you find yourself in an emotional rollercoaster that completely drains you emotionally and physically and that is no way to live. Walk away from that.
And if you’re lucky all that wrong might be righted by an encounter with someone who forever changes your perception of love. Right from our first date I knew there was something special with this one. I went into it with an open mind and having no expectations whatsoever except to enjoy myself. I did not have the ‘Mr. Right” checker list we girls secretly carry around. We have all the wrong things on there anyway; all centered on image. Now see that’s where we go wrong. I’ve done that; stayed with someone cause we looked so good together, picture perfect and behind closed doors we could not have been more incompatible. Or because he was well off and seemed like he had a lot going for him and boy did he have a lot going; women, children, physical and emotional abuse. You get the drift.
Back to my date; expectations aside, guard down, I have never had more fun. There were no facades no fronts. He made me laugh. I felt comfortable in my skin and so did he. It was like we had been doing this for years. How do you explain being with someone for the first time and yet feeling like you’ve known them all your life? There was chemistry too; not the ardent urge for physical gratification but a palpable excitement brought about the anticipation of what could be. By the end of that evening I knew that that was the onset of something wonderful and I wasn’t wrong. He has proven to be the best thing that has happened to me in a long while. Loving him is effortless. Even after all this time, every time we get together feels like the first time. I could talk to him for days. He gets me. He sees right through me. Now would you fault me for wanting to have that for a lifetime? Didn’t think so. With him am constantly reminded that there are still some good people in the world, and that we all have a right to happiness in spite of past disappointments and failures. We might never forget the pain caused by those that did us wrong in our past but neither can we keep punishing those that we meet for others’ mistakes. We should never give up on love.
I know we all sit and wonder where all these people -that’ve touched our lives one way or other- are. We’ll never see those days again, and things will never be that way again but that’s just how it goes.
People change, but memories are forever.
The New Girl In Town: Just Remember Everything Will Be SAWA
Have you seen The Bigger Picture? Well it’s one of the blogs that have inspired me and given me pointers in writing my own. I am honored to know the owner of this blog and she happens to be a good friend. I have taken time to study her work especially in writing and photography. My conclusion? She is gifted. Meet Susan Wong, a Chinese Canadian who has travelled the world extensively. Wong is a traveller, writer, radio personality, photographer and fashion designer. When she told me she was on a flight on her way here, I didn’t waste the chance to request that she write me a blog note while on the plane. Today was her first day on radio (Capital Fm 98.4). She was good!
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By Susan ‘Lucky’ Wong
My body ached and my head throbbed from exhaustion. Coming up on 20 hours of travelling time, jetlag was definitely catching up to me. As I flipped through my colourful Kenyan guidebook in a desperate last attempt to absorb as much information about my new home, the captain spoke over the intercom and informed us that we were descending into Nairobi, and moments later the flickering city lights welcomed us.
Mesmerized by the enchanting lights and the new adventures that awaited me, I reluctantly closed my guide book and put it away. I realized that no amount of homework could really prepare me for my relocation to Nairobi. I suppose the best preparation was to put aside all expectations and just humbly enjoy every moment, adventure and opportunity that crosses my path. And with that mindset, I penned this journal entry to myself just before the plane touched down…
Dear Self,
Young Lady, you are no stranger to Africa, Kenya, Nairobi or the challenging task of relocation. With that said, ignore those butterflies in your stomach; stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’ if you had made another choice; and tell your Mom’s chanting of “Nairobbery….” In your mind to hush!
Undoubtedly there will be a lot of challenges ahead. You will face challenges that seem impossible to prevail. You will meet people that will challenge who you are and the core of what you’re made of. You can do this. Remember that you’ve been blessed with this opportunity to follow your passion and perhaps answer a call. There are amazing people that are waiting to support you. Be bold. Just be you.
Don’t forget about the lessons you’ve learned in the past. And yes, you’ve learned so much in Ethiopia from the past few years. Take everything with a grain of salt. Trust people until they give you a reason to not trust them.
Enjoy yourself and don’t forget to explore the diverse restaurants in town!
Don’t fret. Chin up Girl because everything will just be Sawa.
Voice over the intercom: “Welcome to Nairobi Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. The temperature outside is 18 degrees and expect a light drizzle …. Thanks for choosing….and we hope you have enjoyed your flight.”
The New Girl In Town: Just Remember Everything Will Be SAWA
Have you seen The Bigger Picture? Well it’s one of the blogs that have inspired me and given me pointers in writing my own. I am honored to know the owner of this blog and she happens to be a good friend. I have taken time to study her work especially in writing and photography. My conclusion? She is gifted. Meet Susan Wong, a Chinese Canadian who has travelled the world extensively. Wong is a traveller, writer, radio personality, photographer and fashion designer. When she told me she was on a flight on her way here, I didn’t waste the chance to request that she write me a blog note while on the plane. Today was her first day on radio (Capital Fm 98.4). She was good!
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By Susan ‘Lucky’ Wong
My body ached and my head throbbed from exhaustion. Coming up on 20 hours of travelling time, jetlag was definitely catching up to me. As I flipped through my colourful Kenyan guidebook in a desperate last attempt to absorb as much information about my new home, the captain spoke over the intercom and informed us that we were descending into Nairobi, and moments later the flickering city lights welcomed us.
Mesmerized by the enchanting lights and the new adventures that awaited me, I reluctantly closed my guide book and put it away. I realized that no amount of homework could really prepare me for my relocation to Nairobi. I suppose the best preparation was to put aside all expectations and just humbly enjoy every moment, adventure and opportunity that crosses my path. And with that mindset, I penned this journal entry to myself just before the plane touched down…
Dear Self,
Young Lady, you are no stranger to Africa, Kenya, Nairobi or the challenging task of relocation. With that said, ignore those butterflies in your stomach; stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’ if you had made another choice; and tell your Mom’s chanting of “Nairobbery….” In your mind to hush!
Undoubtedly there will be a lot of challenges ahead. You will face challenges that seem impossible to prevail. You will meet people that will challenge who you are and the core of what you’re made of. You can do this. Remember that you’ve been blessed with this opportunity to follow your passion and perhaps answer a call. There are amazing people that are waiting to support you. Be bold. Just be you.
Don’t forget about the lessons you’ve learned in the past. And yes, you’ve learned so much in Ethiopia from the past few years. Take everything with a grain of salt. Trust people until they give you a reason to not trust them.
Enjoy yourself and don’t forget to explore the diverse restaurants in town!
Don’t fret. Chin up Girl because everything will just be Sawa.
Voice over the intercom: “Welcome to Nairobi Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. The temperature outside is 18 degrees and expect a light drizzle …. Thanks for choosing….and we hope you have enjoyed your flight.”
Things We Never Say
Intro by Michael Ngigi
When I first saw Ahenda Anjichi‘s work I was stoned, thanks to my good friend Liz Lenjo. I have followed her posts ever since. I hope that one day, she will write something long. A book. Maybe a memoir. A diary… Initially, I didn’t expect her to agree when I suggested the idea of writing an article together. Why would she agree to work with someone she’d never met? As we spoke on chat about the project, I couldn’t help noticing how intelligent and creative Ahenda is. I have to admit, I fall shy of her skill. This article seeks to portray the feelings that words cannot say lest they hurt the spirit.
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By Ahenda Anjichi & Michael Ngigi
Dear Ahenda
I smoke the herb when my mind is on the run. I few long drags and my mind is suddenly light. It makes me forget that I am the worst liar in the whole world. I feel like a missing person. It is strange that I feel it is where I should be. I don’t think you know anything about this, or the fact that I am about to break up with you. I can’t help asking myself where I lost everything. Where did I lose you? Where did you let me go? I am about to pour these last five years down the drain. I need to get everything out of my chest. I need another story. I am man broken down, not by what I did or what I didn’t do. I am angry, afraid, selfish and selfless. Selfish because if I wait for the end to come, I might not survive it. Selfless because I made you a promise. Baby, remember when I told you I would do anything to make you happy? I meant it. If leaving you will put a smile on your face someday, then leave you I will.
There’s nothing left for me here.
Last night on my way home I stopped at Lazzaro‘s to buy you roses. I couldn’t find the strength to hand them to you so I threw them in the dustbin. I realized couldn’t look you in the eye to surprise you when you opened the door. I couldn’t stand your sad eyes beneath your beautiful pretending face. I feel like I have lost all I ever had. You’ve always wanted me to believe you’re happy. Great. That makes two of us.
Lately, I can’t help revisiting the great moments we shared when our love was new. All the mornings you tirelessly taught me how to tie my tie. I learn slow but you gave me time. I made mistakes and got hurt in the process. Still, you were ever near. The days we’d chase each other across the covers while we played a game with no name or rules. I ruled your mind. And you, mine. I knew how to make you happy. Boiled eggs, alcohol and garlic could not stop me from the sweet taste of your lips. Lazy days were our best. Lying still in each other’s arms silent but saying everything in the way we stared at each other’s eyes. Our album. I am surprised how unfamiliar the people in the pictures are. I hate these pictures. They remind me that I had you for a minute and the next you were gone. Only this time, you didn’t pack your bags and leave. You left your body with me as your heart wondered off. I am trying hard, but I can’t reach you. Sad eyes. You want to cry. You want to tell me but you can’t. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s eating you from inside.
I’m smiling. We had great sex in ‘our time’. That I had to fight you down and conquer you made me feel it was what I was born to do. The earthquake that always shook our landing still fascinates me. The peace of collapse and surrender that followed as we lay twining our up-stretched hands. Stretching imaginary skies and plucking at non-existent stars. Me and you Ahenda. I hate that the smell of your skin still lingers on my nostrils. Flowers. Now you cry every time we make love. I can tell the sad darkness you’re going through when you whisper in my ear that you love me. I can’t do it anymore. You speak without saying a word. You’re out of love. The fire dies down and all that remains are the weak coals that gasp for more more wood.
The world is vast, dark and lonely. I wait. For you to send me those naughty texts. For a time you will tell you that you have time for a chat. For that time when you will have time. For that time you will stay up late waiting for my call. For that time I will make you smile just how your best friend Fiona does. For that time you will talk about our future plans. Our ‘house on the hill’ doesn’t fascinate you anymore. When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? I know it’s not that you don’t care. You just don’t want to lie to me. You are a wonderful soul. I guess it’s why you don’t want to tell me the truth and hurt me. More tears from your big eyes. You hate yourself for what you’re feeling. You hate that you’d want to love me but can’t. You don’t know why.
I am going to save you. Save myself. Save us. Save what we’ve built so far. The memories. The moments tatooed on our minds. I choose to leave. I can’t make you happy. You know I have tried. Let the blood be on my head. Just let go so I walk the plank alone. I will be fine. Fine because I have kept my promise. To do anything that will make you happy. Life lies full beneath your feet. You will find what you’re looking for. Keep the ring and I will keep the pictures.
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Mikey…my darling…
You look at me different these days, you have that look in your eye like a deer caught in full headlights awaiting certain death, standing rooted to the spot and frozen in fear.
You’re afraid of me; my heart, my soul, my body and my mind.
Even your kisses have become strangers to my lips, I do not blame you. You must know. You must have figured it out. You must see that the flame we had is dying, the embers in our hearts simply fizzling, leaving us the ashes of our dead union.
When I met you, when we first met, my insides used to itch to hold you in conversation, to hear you laughing-you have this laugh my dear, so deep and hearty and soulful and the sound of it made my world sparkle. You don’t do it as much anymore-laugh that is, you half-smile at me in the evening when I’m in the kitchen, trying to remember how you liked the spices mixed up in your meals…I had a special recipe that awakened your inner demons and you used to have me on the kitchen counter, tightly gripping your back, head thrown back in absolute ecstasy and so out of breath. My knees used to shake and I would bite my lower lip in anticipation by just how you said my name…now, you sound like Mark, the photocopy guy at the ground level shop at our office building. It’s quite baffling.
What happened to us?
Looking at you now, it’s like I’ve been a stranger these five years…do you still like sleeping on the left side of the bed, love? (I can hardly feel your breathing late at night, I find myself laying on the edge, as if running away from that ugly awkward tension that has moved in with our relationship and isn’t paying the rent.)
I need those days back: when you held me so close I could feel you thinking, when I could tell what words your lips are forming before you spoke, when I knew what shirt you wanted to wear and the tie I’d help you fix…(oh, boy! Did it take you a while to learn!!), when you would know when my days are bad and you would kiss my worries away….memories now.
What happened to me being able to float through my misery? Being able to wear the smile you so loved without you knowing that I’m straining to keep it alive? What happened to me being able to mesh into your arms without flinching? What happened to you being the best thing in my universe? What happened to me wanting to rush home to you? What happened to the son we were to have?
Babe, those roses in the trash, I saw them. Poor little lifeless creatures shriveled up and left neglected, cold and alone. So without color…I laughed-they must have reminded me of us. I’m not happy at this thought; it’s just the irony in it all. You thought they were better off in the trash than in my hands; do I now possess the ability to wound a thorned flower?
This is not your doing. It’s mine. You stayed here loving me but I left without much of a goodbye. You cannot imagine how desperate I am to love you-I did once, I really did.
It was the way you paid attention to me, the little things you did, your smile,your laugh,the way your shoulders sag when you’re tired, the way your finger bends when it’s pointing, the silly faces you’d make watching football, the way you drank a glass of water, how you put on your shoes, the crease above your forehead when you’re being serious, how you would tickle me and kiss my neck at the same time…how rude of me to take these things and forget what they feel like.
I’m just numb. You move me no more.
This is not your doing-it’s all mine.
You have given me a chance at real love; you HAD given me a chance at real love…so here i am now, tears flowing onto this letter you wrote and this ring barely shinning in this dark room…still in its box, left by this damn letter. I chased you off before you even got down on one knee.
Isn’t this every woman’s dream I was living, with you?
I can almost hear your pained voice, gentle and sweet, speaking these words.
Michael. You loved me.
This is not your doing-it’s all mine.
I doubt that she can love me as well as you do. All she can do is be the secret fuel to my fire and the forever silenced voice of my longing.
Mikey…just so that you know, my soul remains with you. I’ll stay here, caught between my heart and mind-wanting it to be good knowing it’s not.
I’m really sorry Michael.
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Outro by Ahenda Anjichi
I can’t deny-I jumped at the opportunity to write this, I love writing, but more so because someone as gifted and expressive as Michael thinks I’m good at it. It’s a huge, huge compliment! I’m short of doing a “yippee” dance on my office desk; it’s a refreshing chance to try something new aside from my usual prose/poetry.
Michael, many thanks for the shout. This was so much fun to do. (And Liz Lenjo for being the lovely bridge to this point!) .
Dull, Dreary, Cold.
Today’s guest writer is the beautiful Patricia Kihoro, an outstanding and well known performer in the arts. She was also a Tusker Project Fame Season 3 finalist (TPF3). The first time I met her I couldn’t help saying a little prayer for my life. I found her magnetic, hypnotic, disarming and the most loyal friend anyone can have. She is wise, and in her calm voice and look you will appreciate the raw intelligence she radiates. I have read this article three times. I admire how she describes familiar moments in their most intimate forms.
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I was at a funeral today. It was for someone I had never met, but at some point I had tears in my eyes.
And a lump in my throat.
I had heard about him. Good things. Not so good things. Now he was no longer living and I was at his funeral. He was gone.
I watched people cry. I watched some laugh. Not at him of course, just laughing with each other. Probably remembering happy things about him. Happy times with him. Or maybe they weren’t even talking about him at all.
The weather was perfect for a funeral. Dull, dreary, cold. Just how I like it on a regular anyway. People came trickling in slowly. There was no church service. Everything was done by the graveside. And I was taking pictures. I was there to take photographs. And I wanted to do it in the most sensitive way I could. Without being in peoples faces as they bawled their eyes out, and held each other, and grieved for a friend lost. Without making them feel as though they had to keep themselves composed because there’d be a camera lens in their faces trying to catch the tears. I felt cruel. But I went on anyway. They wouldn’t mind. They wouldn’t even notice. I wouldn’t be invasive, or obtrusive. I would keep my distance, yet capture the sadness on their faces. Capture the grief. Capture the loss.
Some faces looked solemn, and stoic. As though they were doing something they did on a regular. As though they were waiting their turn, now that they had bade goodbye to so many around them, and were expecting to be next any day now. They looked as though their tears had long ran out, and death was just another part of the game. It was a game now. One they didn’t enjoy being a part of but had no choice but to play. They seemed strong, but it wasn’t strength I saw in them.
I saw anger on other faces. Anger at what they deemed unfair. Unfair that their friend was dead. That he had not lived longer. That he lost the battle. That he left them. Anger at the fact that they had to endure losing him. Anger because it hurt. Anger because they didn’t understand why. Why he had to die. Anger because he hadn’t finished living his life. Anger because they were not finished loving him, and they weren’t ready to stop. Anger at why death had to be. Anger at a ‘system’ that seemed too flawed to ever be praised again. Anger because they knew. Anger that it would be them too someday.
There was sadness on most. Sadness because they missed him. Sad because he had died. He was dead, and death was a sad thing. Sad because those left behind remain thinking about all that they could have gotten to do with their loved one. Wishing that they had. All the hopes and dreams that went unfulfilled. All that could have been. All that won’t be. Will never be. All the children they never got to have. The things they never got to do. The places they never got to visit. The rest of their story that never got told. The void that has been left that can never be filled again. Sadness because of the regret that gnawed at them. Regret because of what they should have done that they never had the courage to do.
I kept at the picture taking. Snapping away. Walking slowly round, trying to get the right angles, where the light would fall just right on the faces of the mourners.
Mourners.
Were they really all mourning? Weren’t some there to celebrate a life ‘well lived’? That’s what the obituary said anyway.
There was another funeral going on a few metres away. But those people were using speakers so loud, it felt as if we were there for that funeral. It made me angry. Angry because they were being disrespectful. Inconsiderate. But they were sad too. So I felt guilty about my anger.
I let them be, and returned to ‘our’ funeral.
I continued to click away. They were singing for him now. It looked painful. The singing. They looked like it hurt to sing. And it hurt for me to watch them sing. But I took pictures of that too. There were more tears now. More anger. More shadows across the faces. Shadows that had nothing to do with light. Shadows that appeared from within.
They were burying him now. Lowering the coffin into the grave. And they were quiet as they did so. It was heavy. The silence. It’s as though the silence was weighing down on the coffin. Pushing it deeper into the grave. Covering it. Drowning it. The lump in my throat grew larger. My vision became blurred. So I lifted the camera to my eyes. I didn’t want anybody to see me shed tears for someone I had never met. I would be like one of those well oiled, well practiced funeral wailers. It would be pretentious of me to cry. So I hid behind the lens. And clicked away.
He was under. They began to pick handfuls of dirt. And threw them into the grave. Like a final wave good bye.
And then the shovels came. Bright. New. And they quickly filled it up. The grave. And placed the flowers on top. Red roses. Whose petals fell off and began to roll away with the wind.
As if they didn’t want to be there.
My Soul for Your Love
After reading her note titled ‘Damn!’, I knew I had to get her to write something for my blog. Liz Lenjo is a woman of many abilities. A talented writer and model, Liz also happens to be the editor at Varsity Phunk Magazine. She has studied Post- Grad Diploma Law at Kenya School of Law . You might want to follow her work, I have a feeling she will hold your attention at ransom. Watch and learn.
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By Liz Lenjo
The first love letter you dubbed it ‘Night of the Eclipse’ I knew you would be the one I for me…Forever. I could see the darkness of your soul, but I had to dance with the devil. Just to know your embrace. My soul for your love I exchanged.
The day you said you love me…I knew that my tango dance with fire would never end. I loved the pain and the misery. So long as it was by your side, I reckoned that was the meaning of love. I did not mind for my soul for your love I traded.
Rivers of tears at your cost, by your side I remained. Determined to uphold a contract I made with the dark side…Your darkness I embraced and made it mine. Losing myself I willingly did… For my soul for your love I exchanged.
Love for pain? Pain for love? To erase you I need to, but somehow part of you still lingers. I guess rescinding the contract to have my soul back, was not going to be a walk in the park. But I must! Knowing now…my destiny was never with you…But somehow: for your love, my soul I willingly bet!
Dear Apinda
If I was given the chance to choose a brain from any living human being in the world, I wouldn’t have a problem. It would be Laura’s. I admire how she thinks and expresses herself. Spontaneous in thought and deed, Laura Walubengo is described with the highest accolades by many. Apart from being hypnotized by her sexy voice on radio, I follow shamelessly in her footsteps.
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Dear Apinda,
I am not fine. There is a poison in my veins that won’t give me time to think of an antidote. Yesterday my eyes lost all colour and my tongue no longer experiences taste. The only thing that works for me now is chicken; and only if it has chilli. In fact it’s good I mentioned that. Now I must remember to get some from Galitoes tonight. They have the best!!! Anyway, back to the poison – Apinda even my hair has begun to fall out. I know this because when I’m not the one pulling it out, I still find some on the pillow. Apinda, are you there? Can we chat instead? Can we chat so I can explain how my lips are beginning to crack? My mouth now can’t even hold in heavy words any longer imagine? I have never seen anything like this. Apinda I am scared… I am going to the gym, but the muscles don’t form. Instead my skin hangs – and there is so much of it like you wouldn’t believe! I don’t know what kind of poison this is… Have you ever heard of it? I have begun checking what foods to eat that would rejuvenate my body, but they only work for a few minutes and then I start choking again. I actually cough small bits of life out of me… I didn’t even know black people could turn blue LOL… I should send you a picture.
Apinda, it’s been only three days, and now my stomach doesn’t stop running. The doctor says I am well and that all my organs are intact. But I can feel it. My bones crack when I walk!! Sometimes it’s like they form a powder that stains my clothes… 🙂 Ok, that was a joke – ha ha ha! But what do you think I should do?
Apinda, it’s moving faster. Yesterday I had to stop after walking from the kitchen to my bedroom – to catch my breath! What if this poison gets to my heart Apinda? It’s so much harder to breathe. Come and sit with me. Tell me stories because tomorrow I don’t think I will be able to get out of bed. Do you think I will die? I don’t want to die Apinda.
Walubengo is Senior Editor in Lifestyle on capitalfm.co.ke
Snake Bite
Today I am honored to feature an article in spoken word by my close friend who prefers to be known by the name La Femme Fatale. She also happens to be a well known public figure; articulate and precise in her wording. I especially like how she has presented a familiar situation today’s article. It is amazing how a lot can be said with such few words. This is deep stuff.
Interlude
I sometimes wonder
Whether friendships are meant to last forever
Y’know sort of like navigating stormy weather
It’s like Johnny in grade school
Was he a genius or simply clever?
…
Like a poisoned chalice
Drip drip
Your words heavy
Full of malice
You spread the word
To the nest of vipers
Stories in which, I was front and centre
.
Laden with lies
Sweetened with hate
Divided and spread out
Like a piece of cinnamon cake
I often wonder how you disguised your disdain
You always chastised me for being too vain
& yet in the same take
You moved quickly, swiftly and sharpened that blade
Not a moment too late
You thrust –
Plunged-
Using your entire weight
Sort of like a snake
That sinks its fangs deep inside
Leaving its venomous poison behind
.
I try to think back
To when everything was white and black
No shades of grey
Rolling in the hay
We must’ve been 9 or 10 maybe 11 hey?
.
What happened to all our girlish pursuits?
To our dreams of jumping out of parachutes?
Did they disappear?
Are they no longer here?
.
Was the apple too sweet?
The perfume too strong?
The one that led you to doing wrong?
To betraying a childhood friend
One who would’ve had you –
Till the end?
Over and over again?
No matter what happened?
.
It’s always the first cut that’s the deepest
The first bite – always the sweetest
You go through life – you face your weakness
You carry on – you shrug off meekness
You meet new people – you get acquainted
You forget the pain of disappointment
But never the sting of the snake- staring at you naked.
Variables
Due to overwhelming public demand, I present Patrick Wanyoike once again. His article on long distance relationship earned him quite a number of stalkers. He carefully weaves life stories with his academic background as a doctoral student in organic chemistry at Iowa University. He is a brilliant writer; I bet my salary he will captivate your mind. In this article, he gives you a refresher course in variables…just in case you forgot.
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James was rather pissed off; he didn’t get up on the right side of the bed that day. He was cranky and not looking forward to the lab that day. He had missed his first bus and if he didn’t catch the next one, he would consequently ruin his whole day. “I might as well drive to school,” he thought. It had been raining all night and the thought of driving didn’t sit well with him. So he hurriedly got dressed and ran to the bus stop; luckily the bus was a few minutes late. He made it, he got on. As fate would have it, she took the later bus too. Sitting where she always sat. She was a med school student. For months he had wanted to say something but he never had the guts to do so. He always greeted her with a smile, but not today. He brushed past her and sat down, lost in his thoughts.
Jane was her name. She had just finished med school, about to start her residency in a few months. She knew James, well not exactly. They had a mutual friend on Facebook, and one day she had seen his profile. “Single” his status said. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t explain it but she looked forward to that bus ride every morning. He finally smiled at her after three weeks, mumbled a hello after another four and small talk came after another six weeks.
She always wondered to herself if there was something more or was she imagining her own things. She was lost in her own fantasy. Later on she discovered that they would be moving to the same town. They would be working at the same hospital; she found out through Facebook. His privacy settings were really bad but she took it as a sign. They were meant to be. She finally got tired of waiting and decided that she was going to ask him out. It was almost finals time and he wasn’t having any. He was practically done with school. He had just defended his thesis. She had attended; she sat at the back row. Listening attentively, he spoke so clearly, his voice was commanding. He held the attention of the audience, answered questions dexterously and earned the title DOCTOR.
She often wondered if what she was doing could be termed as stalking. But she didn’t give a hoot; she was going to ask him out this morning. She changed outfit after outfit not realizing she would miss the bus. She finally got done and looked at her watch and realized it was long gone. She got on the next bus, silently praying that he too had missed the first bus. That would be her sign that they were meant to be. They reached his stop, and there he was! Oh how wonderful! He got on, her heart fluttered; he didn’t smile and walked past her. Her courage evaporated, she wanted to walk over to him and say something but courage failed her. She decided that’s that. It was over and done with. It wasn’t meant to be. He sat there, thinking. “Why did he have to be single?” He had a lot to offer. He was smart, had good looks, a perfect gentleman. He knew how to treat a girl right. “Why couldn’t he get a girl like Jane?”
Oh Jane, they would make a perfect couple. She was everything he ever wanted, wife material. He was destined for great things, who knows maybe even a Nobel Prize but he always imagined Jane beside him. To share in his joys and take away his sorrows. But sadly, ladies like Jane never liked his type; they ended up with another doctor, a medical doctor with an MD not just one with a PhD. He knew they were headed to the same hospital. He would work in the lab as she treated patients. They were in the same department, possibly under the same boss. So far, yet so near like gold and mercury. Fate had conspired to torture him for the rest of his life. He would watch Jane get married, have children. He couldn’t. He had started looking elsewhere for another job but nada.
She got off; she was really down the whole day. Ruth, her roommate called her. She needed a ride to the airport. Jane agreed to drop her off and drive the car back home. At least she wouldn’t have to see James on the way home and wonder what could have been. She dropped Ruth off and drove back home. She passed by the supermarket, bought a few groceries. She wanted to get some wine, but a fine wine was best when shared with someone like James. Damn! She couldn’t get him out of her mind. She got in her car and drove off. She was so absent minded and didn’t even see the light change to red. She slammed her brakes and heard the sickening thud as metal slammed against human body…code blue!
He didn’t have a good day either; he had forgotten his lunch, and to add insult to injury, his wallet. He simply couldn’t believe his luck that day. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day. He now had to walk home, it was cold and he was hungry. Funny thing, he thought of Jane, maybe he should have smiled at her this morning. He was utterly lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even see the car, all he heard were the squeal of brakes and then silence…. He awoke up in hospital and there she was. He must have died and gone to heaven. As he recovered, she was always by his side. He had a slight limp, a constant reminder of the accident. And he often wondered, what if had smiled to her that fateful morning? They fell in love, grew in love, swam in it, got engaged and finally married on a pristine beach, just as she had imagined. They lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, not all stories have a happy ending.
This story could have ended differently, a whole lot differently. I love science and math, and in calculus we have variables. In mathematics, a variable is a value that may change within the scope of a given problem or set of operations. What if he hadn’t missed the bus? What if he had smiled at her? What if she had asked him out? That day would have certainly progressed a whole lot differently. Would their future have been the same? In life, it’s the nondescript things that totally change the whole script. The little things that seem to have no meaning, but come together to form a beautiful picture.
Back to science, I am amazed by two elements. Next to each other on the periodic table but very different. Gold is a chemical element with the symbol Au (from Latin: aurum “gold”, originally “shining dawn”) and an atomic number of 79. It has been a highly sought-after precious metal for coinage, jewelry, and other arts since the beginning of recorded history. Mercury also known as quicksilver, is a chemical element with the symbol Hg (Latinized Greek: hydrargyrum, from “hydr-” meaning watery or runny and “argyros” meaning silver) and atomic number 80. Mercury is the only metal that is liquid at standard conditions for temperature and pressure; Mercury and most of its compounds are extremely toxic and are generally handled with care. Mercury can cause both chronic and acute poisoning. Two metals, very different properties that just differ by just one proton. Yep ONE PROTON.
A proton is a subatomic particle found in the nucleus of all conventional atoms. Mercury just has an extra one and that’s what separates it from gold. What are your dreams? Goals? Aspirations? What legacy would you like to leave when you depart this earth? Great men and women were not born. They took care of the little stuff, they did not seek greatness, greatness found them as a result of the little things they did that made a complete picture. So stop looking for that great thing, change the variables that you need to do. Ask her out, make that phonecall, read that book, be nice to people. Lose that proton and stop being mercury and realize your potential as gold! Maybe all you need to do is SMILE ….Am smiling, are you?
Long Distance ER
So one of my readers (Hi Esy!) asks me to comment on long distance relationships. I am biased. So I turn to my brother Patrick Wanyoike from the University of Iowa. This is what he has to say.
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To all my people in HILDAR (Humans In Long Distance Affairs and Relationships)
He opened up the letter with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He had been waiting for this letter for months. His future was literally in his hands. It was good news, great news. But great news didn’t bring with them the sadness that he felt. He didn’t know whether to jump up and down with joy or fall over crying in sadness. He put the letter aside and dialed.
She sat across to him; she could tell he was worried. His voice over the phone sounded vexed. He handed her the letter. She read it and shouted in joy! He had his scholarship to Harvard, a dream come true. Now he could finally live up to his great potential. It finally hit her; he would be 7180.5 miles away, approximately 11,555.89459 km away. She knew this, thanks to Google. She had prayed for, and against it for quite a few months. Her emotions were mixed, should she smile or cry? Why did he have something smart to say? What would that mean for her? For the relationship? Was he breaking up with her?
The months came and went. That night as they took him to the airport, she slowly wept on his shoulder. It was a gloomy night, one of those cold nights in late July. “How befitting,” she thought. Life was so unfair. “Why did he fly out at night? Couldn’t he do it on sunny day?” But even a sunny day would not alleviate the gloom she felt. They exchanged sad goodbyes and he smiled at her and promised to come back to her, someday. They kissed, and she watched him disappear through the airport doors and out of her life. The emails, texts , calls, tweets, pokes, video calls came in a flood as soon as he got there, but as time went by, they slowed down to a trickle and soon it was an occasional post on her wall on holidays and her birthday. His relationship status changed from “in a relationship” to “it’s complicated” to “single” and back again to “in a relationship with (not her name)”. It was over. Who was to blame?
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Maybe it hasn’t happened to you but it happened to someone you know. It happened to me. Long distance relationships are harder than marriages, in my opinion at least. You have two people who want to be together but are physically apart. Hence, a good number of long distance relationships fail, some say over 95%. That means 5% actually survive the distance and make the relationship work. How? Read on….
Relationships are hard work. Add distance to the whole mix and you got yourself a quandary. So how exactly do you work through this? How do you keep the romance alive while being miles away from your loved one? First and foremost, like with every relationship, you both have to agree to make it work. You have to be in sync. The success of any relationship, long distance or otherwise, depends largely on the effort both partners are willing to put in for keeping their love alive. To me, making a long distance relationship work is much like baking a cake. You have to mix the ingredients just right, bake at the right temperature and for just the right amount of time. Mess one of these up and you have a cake yes, but not a very good one. The ingredients to a successful long distance relationship are trust, patience, communication, visits, positivity and an end goal.
Most relationships have an issue with trust. A long distance relationship calls for lots and lots of trust. Both of you need to raise your trust level to all-time highs. You are no longer there to check on who calls him or her. Being miles away from each other is a real test of trust. You have to realize that you are no longer there to police their lives and if you have jealousy issues then probably your relationship won’t survive the distance. Trust comes hand in hand with patience as you might have to wait, a few months or a few years (depending on the distance) before you see your loved one.
Long distance relationships are truly for super people, they have super trust and super patience. Now super communication is needed. Communication has to be constant and more frequent. It has to be part of your daily schedules, which you stick to without fail. It means taking advantage of every form of communication possible. From Facebook to Twitter, Oovoo to Skype, emails, calls, texts. Constant contact ensures that you keep abreast of each other’s ups and downs. It’s the only way that you can help your partner through the hard times and share in each other successes. Without communication, you might as well be strangers whose only connection is a relationship status on Facebook.
People are highly critical of long distance relationships. One popular saying is that, “Fimbo ya mbali haiui nyoka,” But the need to kill a snake, will only arise if you let a snake come into the relationship. A positive mind set ensures that you keep the snakes out and change that saying to “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Take this chance to be more romantic, write a love letter, and send flowers. Let your creative juices flow and come up with ways on how you can keep the love burning. Sending small romantic gifts from time to time are also great ways to impress your partner in a long distance relationship. It is also better to add a personal touch to whatever you decide to send. Undoubtedly, every time your partner sees your gift, he or she will be reminded of you and your love for her/him. For this reason, it is better to select gift items that you can both relate to in terms of each other. If you share common interest in movies or music, creating and sending a collection of your beloved’s favorite numbers often becomes a good option. While spending time away from you, your partner would definitely love to hear your voice time and again. Making some voice recording and sending it as a gift is also a good option in a long distance relationship.
As your relationship progresses it is important to ensure that you do see each other every so often. You need to plan your visits as physical interaction is an integral part of any relationship. With time every long distance relationship comes to an end. It is better to plan the ending rather than have to live with one that fate brings along. Thus it is vital to set an end goal for your relationship. Will one person move? Will you meet halfway? Where are you headed with your relationship? You cannot keep going on with no goals in mind and allowing circumstance to dictate what happens. Take control and make things happen as long distance relationships are not meant to be perpetual.
This is just a rough guide to making a long distance relationship happen and I owe thanks to Liz, Helen and Shiku for their input. For those in long distance relationships, kudos! We could all learn something from you. And here is a little something to make life a little easier. A list of 90 things you can do with your long distance partner.
A Day in a Dog's Life™ 