When it comes to not wanting but needing.

Going down memory lane, I remember as a kid, every time we’d go to eat out, the order(pun) of the day would be chips, TWO(never one or three) pieces of sausages and fanta orange. I strongly believe my brothers and I were not the only ones with the same kind of order, I see you lifting your hand admitting to that too. But that has since then changed, I grew up and started to know that chips and chicken, though with fanta orange was a powerful combination. Then I graduated from fanta orange to blackcurrent(haiya, who remembers the soda ‘softa’? Remember the advert? ‘Freedom softa freedom, brighten your day the softa soda way hmmm’ wah I danced to that advert religiously.) *nostalgia* Oh my, back to what I was writing about. So nowadays I order pretty much chicken, maybe chips(rarely) and juice 🙂 Honestly, I’m not sure why I have written down that first paragraph, hmmph, well, Easter is coming up so now any lunch offers are welcome 🙂

To matters important, what this post really is about. In life, there are a number of things one wants and also, what one needs. We’ve all heard or read about differentiating between wants and needs. It’s always clear that needs are more important than wants. Case in example, naturally, I am not a drama mama, no, I rarely over react and I may sometimes have strong opinions about something, but I keep it to myself. See I wouldn’t want to be a drama mama, but friends, I need to be a drama mama, like a really, and a loud one for that matter. Why? Thought you couldn’t ask. Well that’s because many instances have passed when I needed to be full of drama but I just laid back which resulted to a loss.

Sometime last week, while in the matatu heading home, the conductor and some lady got caught up in an argument and since there was no radio, well, all of us were subjected to be the audience of the exchange of words. The lady, of Somali descent(we all know best not to argue with them, and their men as well) was telling the conductor to give her her change and there, the drunk conductor, refusing to give it to her immediately. To cut the long story short,(what do people use to cut long stories anyway? anybody? nobody?) the conductor just started shouting ‘wanawake ni kisirani’ and kept repeating the same words over and over again. Guys in the matatu just looked at him and shook their heads, some ladies, just giggled. Here is what I should have done. -Cleared my throat and go something like ‘wee! Ebu mrudishie change na uwache kutupigia kelele. Unaita wanawake kisirani na we ndio unaleta kisirani hapa. Ala(I love that word) ALA! Kwani umegeuka kuwa mwanamke! Na uwache kutusi wanawake hadharani kwa sababu mama yako pia ni mwanamke. Heshima boss ala.- Then, this is what would follow, -passengers in the jav would give me a standing ovation with applause and cheers. The driver would probably stop the vehicle by the road side, so we all alight then the crowd carries me in the street chanting my name. As for the Somali lady, she would reward me a lifetime supply of pilau, biriani, bhajia and what not, delivered to our door step- But I did not do that. Friends, I failed. 😦 I simply shook my head and sighed(though loudly)This shows how my being a drama mama would benefit me and the society, talk about woman empowerment!

Then, this affects each one of us(well, those of us who lack drivers). Thing with Kenyans on the street is that they enjoy proving that they have the widest of shoulders and heaviest of feet. Like I can count the number of days I can go without being stepped on or being ‘body checked’. What I should do when either of that happens, -tap that person very roughly and ask ‘haiya, huangalii penye unaenda. ALA!’ then that person should be able to apologize. Apologies always soothe the heart. Those who after stepping or ‘body checking’ say sorry, really deserve a smile, a hug maybe? No, just a smile really. That will promote peaceful co-existence. But what I usually do, I look at the person and shake my head. Fail. Friends, I need to be a drama mama.

Plus there are many more instances when I need to be full of drama, so I’ll slowly start and report to you my progress next week. One thing I know, I got my laid backness from my dad. Look at this. so Sunday evening, I was chilling in my room with my big brother. You know, those lazy Sunday evenings, listening to some GOOD music(Eric Wainaina’s album, ‘Love + Protest’) I’m seated on my bed, my bro on the other bed, and we’re talking. Minutes later, my dad opens the door, then he sends me and walks out. Two minutes later, my mum calls me on the phone(all the way from Kakamega) and our conversation goes something like this.
Me: Hi mum 🙂

Her: Hi love. How was your day?

Me: Ah, it was nice, I enjoyed.

Her: Where are you now?

Me: In the house.

Her: What are you doing

Me ; Oh well, listening to music.

Her: Okay, now, your dad tells me you have a friend in the house, you’re with a a boy in your room?

Me:(LAUGHTER, LAUGHTER and more LAUGHTER)

so, she also starts laughing then,
Her: Well, what’s funny?

Me: (laughter) the boy in my room is Sam, Sammy. My brother.

Her:(laughter) Kwani your dad ameona nani?

Me: Ama ametoka kukunywa nini? (laughter)

Her: Haha, he’s confused. Okay, let me tell him ni boy wake ako kwa room ya girl wake.
(My mum really tries with sheng’ sometimes, she’s good, but more times it’s just pure comedy)

Me: Sawa, talk to you later.

Her: Ok mama.

Then, my bro and I laugh, then we LAUGH. It get’s funnier when a minute later we hear my dad’s phone ringing then after some time we just hear ‘ooooohooooh’ Haha, that was funny. We make fun of the whole situation. He was from sleeping so he was seeing my bro as a stranger.

Friends, don’t you think my dad too needs to be a drama baba. What if in real sense it was another boy and he was full of drama, don’t you think he could have done something say crazy, but to help me.

Let us all be dramatic, even when we don’t want to, hey sometimes we need to, but for the better good of society that is. Not the Mike Sonko way though.

Behind the screen.

Behind the screen, there lies a buffet of feelings. They silently burn as she walks past each of them. Now, she’s got her eyes fixed to a particular feeling. The more she stares, the more she wants it. No zoo rule here, so she can get it and she serves the feeling of inspiration into her heart. In there, the silent flame turns into a blaze. Now, her heart beat harmonizes four words that shine in that blaze. 1.PRAYER 2.PASSION 3.FOCUS 4.BELIEVE. It all began behind the screen.

Listen

Immediately I wrote down that title, I remembered Beyonce’s song and then I remembered the notes she hits in that song, it then dawned on me why I never sing that song loud. Tomorrow’s bathroom song has been found 🙂 Today’s post is however not about a song, just listen to it.In life, there are quite a number of people we meet and it’s always a pleasure to listen to them when they speak. Others just want to make you cut off your ears. I like this local TV programme, usually aired on KTN every Wednesday, ‘Briefcase inc’. It’s usually hilarious and those actors should win serious awards. My favorite is baba Charles, that man, his accent, his lines, I smile whenever he is on screen. Sure he does not disappoint those who watch him for tickling purposes. In short, he is a person who is pleasing to hear him talk. Then those who make you want to cut off your ears are either plain boring or they are just too loud until they are obnoxious. I have a good number of examples, but it would be unfair of me to defame people here. For examples, nione kando.

In my work place, I have encountered people of different and believe me, very interesting characters. However, there’s a lady who deserves more than just a mention. Her name is Rhoda. See, thing about Rhoda is that she is one of those bubbly ladies who smile and from their smiles, you can read their hearts, golden hearts. She treats her work like it’s this fine piece of art and pays close attention to it, think a painter and his canvas.Whenever the clock hits one p.m, we all rush to see what Rhoda has in store for us, what she has done with her art. Just like baba Charles, she is not a disappointment. She is our cook. When you eat her food, you will understand that cooking is an art and you will wish that you could pack that food and take it home for dinner. Our houseboy should taste her food, so that he knows what good cooking really is. I am sure that of late, my taste buds have been loving me for what I have been treating them to.

On Wednesdays, Rhoda cooks for us chapati, and on Wednesday’s nothing can spoil my day because I know that at one p.m, I will experience a little heaven down here on earth. Chapati speaks to me in many ways. 🙂 On Fridays that are good, she will cook chicken for us. I need not say what chicken means to me, I cannot put it in words, perhaps the blood in me reads ‘from chicken land’
Listen to Rhoda’s food and you will know no such thing as a diet. You may wonder how much I weigh from this post. My BMI reads overweight, but I promise, it’s a case of heavy bones. For real, these bones of mine are like really heavy. At least when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel that I look overweight. 🙂

When you listen to Rhoda’s food, you will understand why when Steve(one of my colleagues) was asked why he was so silent over lunch hour, answered [insert Kuyu accent] ‘shakura sha Rhoda lazma uisikize vizuri’. Next time you eat, listen to what the food tells you, has its cook defined the art of cooking or has its cook insinuated that cooking is just a plain joke. Listen!

Why Then.

One of the best things the subconscious mind has ever come up with is having a conversation within. Sometimes the things you tell yourself are so funny you even end up laughing loud in public and people give you the look. Many times, you end up smiling alone and you just can’t stop it. Within conversations knock a lot of sense into you, especially when your mind decides to ask you some questions. Recently, I was having a conversation with my subconscious and it asked me one question, ‘why then?’

Why then am I human if I don’t dedicate my life to the Almighty. He’s the source of my breath and my steps. Some years back, a part of my family members and I were involved in a tragic road accident and were it not for God’s grace, we would have lost our lives, the car was a total write off. It’s therefore too clear who my life belongs to.

Why then am I a Christian if I do not posses the power of faith. Faithful people please God and with my faith, my dreams shall come into reality. I will dictate my dreams to Him and He will make them come to pass. Amen.

Why then am I a girl if I cannot enjoy little pleasures like making my hair, doing my nails. Impulse buying was designed for ladies, so for as long as I am not an accountant, I will have extra money on me for the sole purpose of buying things on impulse. In my lifetime of being a girl, I will continue to let out little screams when I’m excited to see my friends. Why was I designed a female if I cannot love pink and ice cream and chocolates. I will love it when a man smells good and will love Theo Walcott and love good muscles in a man.

Why then was I given a heart if I cannot feel hurt when I see humans in pain. It gets to me especially when it’s little children.(However, I cannot work in a hospital environment because I’m the type to cry with the patient instead of helping them.) Which reminds me, once when in High School, a friend of mine had something close to an asthma attack, I was so freaked out but was still there patting her back and telling her to breathe and relax. Later, when she was feeling well, she told me that I’m the one who even made her to lose more breathe, because my voice was shaking and she could feel my hands tremble on her back. At that time, she thought she was in such a bad state making her also freak. Haha that was funny but since then, I never went close to my friends when they were getting asthma attacks. Then there’s this friend of mine who would always get muscle pulls and all the time I’d laugh when rubbing her foot and she’s busy screaming. So friends you see why I cannot dare to be a doctor. I digress, point however still remains that whatever it is I can do to help, I will. That’s even a solemn promise to God.

Why then was I blessed with the ability to hear if I cannot enjoy music. For as long as people will sing relevant music, I will listen and live. I will feel satisfied when listening to music and will bob my head to the rhythm, yes, my foot shall also be stamped according to the beat. See I also have fingers, designed to play with strings. Let me just mention that when I was a littu girl, I still had a musical dream, always wanted to play the kayamba, but fate decided that I was destined to up play the guitar.
Why then can’t I sing yet we have a bathroom in our house. For as long as there shall be a bathroom in the house, believe me, I will sing and hit all notes and scales. 🙂

Why then was I made a daughter if I’m not to make my parents proud. I will stick to the stuff they taught me and pray for them, not only because they pray for me but also because they deserve to be prayed for, they also deserve to smile when they think of me.

Why then was I made to only have brothers if I cannot enjoy their company and learn a thing or two about life and boy psychology. Hehe. Oh they have taught me so much and supported me, and the wise things they know, I’m the one who’s taught them, hehe. They are the reason I mostly hang out with boys, because all my life, I have grown up with them.

Why then was I given friends if I cannot help them, cry with them, laugh with them and laugh at them. See many of my friends tell me that they accept me for who I am, but in real sense, I’m the one who accepts them for who they are. As long as I have true friends, I will love them in the best way a girl can love her friends.

Why then was I made me if I cannot be a dreamer of reality. Surely by now God has revealed to me that I will, in one way or the other, change the world. The world being the people around me, change them with the positivity of life. Why then, can’t I be a revolutionist, an instrumentalist, a media personality and a marketer. WHY THEN. Tell your mind to ask you why then…

(why then can’t Eric Omondi make you laugh yet you have ribs that need to crack)

Mirror in the eyes.

There’s always that one person that will always have your heart! (Hope you read that while singing in Usher’s voice) Hold up! I’m not going to write about boy/girl relationship so do stay with me. I have to do one for the most influential woman in my life, my mum, a.k.a mummy yangu (the way kids say mummy yangu ni mnoma kuliko mummy yako is amazing). A thought of this lady is enough to let me catch a million and one feelings, so here, I give my feelings a platform to be heard,more like read) loud and clear.

Cindarella, or was it Snow White(can’t remember the last time I read a ladybird series) had to ask the mirror on the wall, to be told who is the fairest of them all. In my case, my mirror lies in the eyes of my mother. See she is a pretty lady, with lovely eyes that speak out the strongest of emotions. Her tears, sometimes of joy and sometimes of pain. Her heart, it’s not a beautiful one, I like to call it a heart of God and surely, describing a heart of God as just beautiful would be some serious injustice, may land me with Ecaterina passing a conviction on me. True talk, she can be a mother to just about anyone. It’s the way she talks with our friends, the way she also talks to her employees, you’d think that she is their mama.

Her sense of humor is definitely unforgettable. She is not hard to tickle and is fair enough to also leave you tickled. She imitates people with some drama, talk about a drama mama. Haha. Watching TV with her is interesting because there’ll always be a reason to laugh, with the sad stories, we both find ourselves wiping the tears.

I do not need IWD to celebrate her because I celebrate her daily, especially when I’m on my knees. We do have our moments when we fight and drive each other crazy but at the end of the day, she defines me. If the earth collapsed, I could hold on to her to be safe, even you could hold on to her. So I do not have to ask the mirror on the wall any question because after all, I have my mirror, in her eyes.

(P.S, I would have written a longer post just that I needed a story and right now, I’m having Monday blues in the office so it goes without saying I’m as blank as a stringless guitar.)

Story of the smile

Ever had one of those days where you keep smiling the whole day simply because of something said or done to you in the morning? It may be that text or phone call or breakfast or some killer smile from who knows. Spotting some eye candy also makes it to the list you know. Quite often even a football game is bound to make one’s day. (I had to put that in there for the sake of the boys reading this who may want to leave here already. I promise, there’s more football coming up, stay with me boys). On such like days, nothing really gets to your guts despite the number of provocations you might come across. Heck you can even tip the conductor if you’re taking a jav.(I find some, if not most conductors, QUITE ANNOYING so understand me when I say that tipping them shows a sign of having a really good day) Last week on Friday I had such a day, and no,I didn’t tip anyone though. None of the above reasons was the cause but it was simply because I woke up to the news that our one and only house boy had been arrested by the cops the previous night.:) Don’t look at me that way, you are just about to understand why.

Victor is the name of our house boy who has quite a personality. I personally find him very mysterious. One, he is extremely shy. He can’t look me in the eye whenever I talk to him and he always whispers back. Well maybe for me it might be an exception, he may have been threatened by my father not to get close to me, or those things that a father would threaten a house boy with concern to his daughter.(I don’t know what they are) The extreme of his shyness however comes in when even talking to my dad, or my mother or even my three brothers, he looks down. Even when asked a question, he smiles and whispers back. Who does that? I know he has a loud voice and that’s because he’s only free with my littu brother(who’s in boarding school). All they talk about is football, and Arsenal and Man-U and Walcott, well maybe not Walcott I just had to put his name in this blog. Theo Walcott 🙂 (Boys, see I kept my promise of writing more on football) Anyway so the irony of this Victor boy is that he has a mohawk. Yes that’s right. I mean, I tend to think that people in Mohawks are loud and confident and most importantly, not shy. I have some friends in mohawks and they are nothing close to shy. So you can imagine the sight of a boy in a mohawk who whispers and smiles at the floor when talked to. He also listens to crunk and RnB. Quite a combination don’t you think?

Aside from being shy, he is also spoilt, according to me. He had this particular habit of preparing dinner very early, latest by 7:30 p.m. After he prepares the supper, he’d then disappear to some place outside the estate, unknown to us members of the family. Since I’m in charge of the food arrangements in the house, I’m the one who’s given the cash to sort out all meals. Anytime I’d reach with the food to be cooked past 7:00 p.m, Victor wouldn’t be around so I was the one to cook the supper. That habit used to get on my nerves a lot, but hey, I’m not the boss of him. When I took that matter to the high table, (my dad) he just told me that I should be taking the food home early enough(by that, by 6:30 latest) Mkubwa akishasema amesema so for about two weeks I did just that. Spoilt much, this Victor boy. He used to hang out with his boys until late in the night and then come back home. My mum had warned him a couple of times but since she’s not usually around home most of the time, Victor of course would personalize the “paka akiondoka” saying. I feel like I’m writing a composition entitled ‘Our Houseboy’ So let me dive straight to the point why he was arrested.

He was found loitering around outside the estate with his tu friends at 10:00 p.m. I guess they all have mohawks and listen to crunk and RnB. So since they didn’t have ID’s they were caught. If I were him I’d break into Sauti sol’s ‘blue uniform’. He should have called me for advice, he should have called. But since he didn’t. I’m guessing alipigwa ngeta then akaambiwa ‘pita kipande hii’ My biggest brother really knows how to imitate Kenyan police. T’m also guessing they were many guys in that van or shoe box type of cars of theirs. From then on, whatever happened to him is a mystery but I shall know when he tells his story to my small brother. Not that I’m teaching my littu brother to gossip, I’m just saying that Walls have ears. Must have been a rough night for him, he must have remembered my mum’s words, he must have made some life changing decisions and I’m sure he must have also wanted his mum to be there.

At around 6:20 a.m, the following day, my dad received a phone call from Victor telling him how he’s in the Industrial area police station. At 6:30 a.m, my dad breaks the news to me and my bro. We all laugh, life is hard. My dad went to ‘bail’ him out. It’s sad how Kenya is still very corrupt especially the police. But like our very own Dela sings, ‘mwenye nguvu mpishe’

The fact that he got taught the hard way made me happy because he was ignorant and spoilt for a long time. I smiled because I knew my mum would make fun of the situation, which she did. I smiled also because I knew that I would now take the supper home at any time and not be the one to cook it. I smiled because that evening when I looked at him and greeted him, in my head I was like ‘welcome to Nairobi chief’ He made me smile the whole day

Black against white.

Before I even get to the body of this post, allow me to tell you where I’m writing this from. I’m at the office, yes that’s right, my work place. So today is my first day at work though my job description is not that clear thus I’m at the reception as I wait for some lady to come and give me my description. I came twenty minutes later than when I was told to be here. How I snoozed the alarm clock for A WHOLE HOUR still remains a mystery to me. In the jav I whispered a littu prayer and a voice told me ‘it’s never that serious’ 🙂 It really wasn’t because now I’m waiting for the lady and I’m also waiting for lunch time. 🙂

About the post, I was watching news the other day  and as they showed the KDF, this is what came to mind.
“It,s been eighteen weeks since I last rocked in your arms, that memory has now made me weak. Eighteen weeks, and each week I’ve written you a letter, black against white. Telling you of how I I’m fairing on, not so fair, not so lovely. See what makes me write this as I’m on my knees is that heart ache, because my heart has grown very fond due to your absence. Too fond infact that it now feels heavy my knees can’t stand the heart’s weight, so I bend them. Before I go any further, excuse the faded parts on this paper, they are as a result of my dried tears, as my heart tears. I’m sure you received my letter telling you that we are expecting a baby, today it kicked. That is the reason for writing this particular letter to you.

When I was a little girl, I always prayed to God for a strong, handsome man, accompanied with a big heart. I saved all my love for such a man and my oh my, baby you came with the whole package, with a ribbon tied to it 🙂 The laughters, the cries, the stolen moments, they all felt right. As fate had it, I walked down the aisle and walked wholly into your life, in the presence of the Holy God.

Your big heart is what made you go and try out to join the army and I’m sure they fell for your arms. Good things for the eyes, those arms. You are my defence force but they took you away to be Kenya’s Defence Force. So now I’m sharing you with the country. As you packed your bags, my heart sank, but I had to let you go, we needed bread and blue band on the table. My days would be worse with your absence but after all I am the one who said ‘I do’ for better or worse. The cold nights are hell, but what makes it worse is that I hear the bullet sounds in my head. I tremble and I silently cry. I fear for you and sometimes I imagine things in my head. I can bet you that I’m God’s most frequent whisperer. I keep whispering for him to keep you safe in that monster of a battle field.

I would choose to go and stay with my sister Christine but since she is a fan of locals, she keeps playing Sauti sol’s ‘coming home’ and Nameless’s ‘coming home’ and I just can’t stand that, it’s a painful playlist. So I choose to stay in our ‘home’, and sit on our bed, rewind the memories made there, that’s my play list, that I can stand. The other day, I was in the matatu, headed home after a good day at the shop(I managed to sell the mitumba at the bus station without getting caught by The City Coucil. Ha! I’m a bad ass like that) the radio station decided that they would play Diddy’s song “I’m coming home” I swear to you Diddy was writing about us when he asks ‘Is a house really a home when your loved is gone?’ Talk about total change of mood. I alighted the matatu. It was too painful a queston. Nowadays I am embittered by any citizen who wears combat. It’s like they are trying to rub it in my face that those who wear combat are still around.

I watch the news daily with half of a heart. Sometimes they report that soldiers have been killed. How is that to make me feel? They report that the war still goes on, heck the war in my heart sure goes on as well. To add insult to injury, at the end of the news bulleting the anchor wishes me a lovely evening. The only reason I watch it is because I hope that one day your spokesman will appear and declare how the war is over and how you guys are coming home, so that our house can return to a home. I have my hopes held high.

Today, the life in me kicked and it stirred a mix up of emotions within me. See that’s life that we have created, so divine. My heart and your heart literally into one and I have the privillege of carrying it in me. I remembered that you always said among the features you fell for for me were my fair skin. Then I start to think of those ladies in Somali land, how they have fair skin and then I tremble at the thought of that. Could one of them have possibly caught your eye? I choose to think not because the kick reminds me of our love. What reminds you of us? Forgive my insecurities, but what’s a woman to do when her only love is away and is unsure of when to return? With this words being my solace, I choose to put them down, black against white, as I go to whisper to my God.”

Nitapaa

See for a very long time I always wanted to post on this blog but the questions I had were more than the answers. “Should it be funny?” I doubted it because I do not have Eric Omondi as my co-writer.
Should it be inspiring? Well my autobiography isn’t like that of Ben Carson but want to watch this space? “Would it engage my readers?” and so many more questions that went unanswered. Yes I did write many posts but ended up saving them to drafts because of those questions my brain would shoot at my conscience.

I can tell you that what’s worse than craving for chapati in the middle of the night is saving a post to drafts because it isn’t ‘good enough’ but hey, everyone has to start from somewhere you know. Case in example, I’m learning guitar and learning it comes with the baggage patience. I want to play along to songs already but that will take time, but with daily practise, siku moja nitakuwa kwenye jukwaa, nitapaa.

I want to walk into the news rooms and say ‘Hey Edith, let me cover for you today’ but I know that right now I can’t handle an iPAD hehe. I will go to school and learn how to handle an iPAD and someday I will be in front of those cameras, nitapaa.

I want to inspire people with my blog, I want to tickle people and I want to show love to people with my blog, that will take sometime. My words have not that strength yet, but as I believe to grow in every post, I have that vision in mind that, that which does not have to wait till 2030, that vision that nitapaa.

Allow me to end my first post in a very cliche manner by mentioning that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a step. 🙂 One last question, wewe unakubali kupaa, kupaa angani?(Cheers to those friends whose dreams dangle close to yours and soar with you.)