Learning Something New

It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself by listening to people who know you talk about you.

No, I am not talking about the behind-your-back whispers that suddenly hush when you appear then someone makes a remark about the weather or some other safe topic. Neither am I talking about those people who know you juu juu or those people who's dose of daily bread must come from kissing asses and lying to keep friends or to protect feelings or some other vague shit.

I am talking of someone who you can be yourself around, that person who you find yourself telling all the crazy things you've done, that person who you would not hesitate to lock up in a room if you thought they might meet harm or hurt if they went...ok maybe not to that extreme but you get my drift. I am talking about that person you always miss and call when something, anything happens in your life.

I am blessed to have such a friend. He is arguably the coolest guy I have ever known, very mature in mannerism and speech and out poken too. He is that guy I hang around with in campo, the guy I would call up instead of taking an afternoon nap. He is interesting to be around and does not sugar coat anything, hurt feelings or bruised egos. He calls it like he sees it, I respect him alot for that. Of course we do not agree on most things, but hey, that's what makes it so lovely. We talk about everything under the sun, literally everything. We are alike in so many ways but yet all so different.

You must be thinking that we are in love, and probably that is true, but not in the erotic sense of the word, we connect at a higher level of utmost openness and acceptance, a mutual understanding and tolerance, an acme of friendship, if ever one exists.

I love him as I love my own brother, but he won't let me call him bro, hell he won't let anyone call him bro. Ati he is not our brother, and he would rather even be called 'dude' To him the term 'dude' is down there at the basement of derogatorium, together with those juicy names like honeypie, cuppycake, sweetheart, junior, simba(for dogs) etc

ok I seem to be losing direction here, ahem

Today we had a conversation on phone, he asked me how I was doing and I said I've never been better.

'Ni pombe?' I tell him my life has been so good lately mpaka I stopped drinking.

'Ok, so what is it? Money?' I made a joke about me needing a loan from him before we continue with the conversation and we both laughed it off.

Ever so persistent he asked, 'So you're getting some, eh?' I gave a kinda sorta answer, laughed it off and changed the subject. It's bad enough to be surviving a dry spell without someone mentioning it to me! We talked more then hung up.

I later started thinking about it, here was the guy who knew me best (I think) talking to me about myself and I failed to recognise the me in that. Am I that shallow?

Ok, I admit that for the most part all I ever talk about is booze and money and...argh, I refuse to torture myself with that word! All that shallow stuff (oh it hurt to admit that)But like everyone else, I mostly talk but don't walk, hehe ok who am I kidding.. For the most part at least, it's the big kid who can't really fight, but no one except him knows that and so no one dares challenge him? C'mon you know what I'm talking about! Right??

Sometimes we project an image that is not really us, or at least we don't want to believe it is us, to those around us, it is usually a different reflection for every other mirror...and when your favourite mirror looks back at you and you can't recognise yourself...you break the mirror damnit!! Hehe ok maybe you don't, you come out of your skin, you reflect the inner soul on the said mirror, if it's still blurry you gently wipe the mirror...


... and voila!!

Freestyle

I woke up to a reminder on my phone this morning. It had the name of the person I was supposed to spend the day today with, someone I hold dear to me. We met early last year during the SONU election period, he was campaigning for a rather powerful post in the students union of our campus. The SONU elections that year were carried out but we never got the results and subsequent campus level elections were cancelled. We were sent home for a month due to the tension and violence that had followed the whole election process. Much later fresh elections were conducted at campus level and the guy managed to get the post he was vying for.

When I first saw him, I saw love, and after all this time he's still the one *cue Shania Twain- You're Still The One* lol ok maybe not. I first saw him from the corner of my eye, he was staring at me as I was talking to some other dude who was trying to get my number while pretending he was campaigning for some chic. I still remember it like it was yesterday, he wore spects and looked oh so yummy in a geeky way, he carried his tall frame with such grace, such gentle strength that only a guy who is sure of himself can manage. He wore a fitting black jacket( that shielded me from the mean cold on numerous occassions) It's dark colour brought out his facial features like a white background on a dark subject, and even behind his spects his eyes looked magnificent, wow if I close my eyes I can sometimes conjure up that image in my mind. He just stood there looking at me, I loved the feeling. The nag eventually left and he finally got the opportunity to have all my attention to himself hehe
We were supposed to be meeting today for coffee or whatever, but one can usually tell when a relation goes on too long. The calls get shorter and wider apart, it's always one thing or the other keeping them too busy to make time for anything, a lie here and there.. That stuff gets old pretty quickly. So I changed my mind and stayed at home.


Juzi night I started feeling irritable on my throat and right ear region, worst feeling ever. Jana I woke up with a cold. Tonight am coughing like mad, I took 'Flu Gone' and some piritons. LOL at 'Flu Gone' some names can be very lame but hey, we were always told not to judge a book by its cover plus my mum swears by the green and yellow capsules. Well, lets wait and see I might just be here some weeks from now recommending it to my readers who've complained of nasty flu's, talk of names that speak for themselves haha

I haven't attended a wedding in ages, mental note to be more outgoing. That's where you meet the best guys, or rather you meet guys in their best behaviour.

For some weird reason I keep thinking of my facebook status update reading ''At a crazy pool party, some of this unassuming brothers be carrying Guiness World Records in their trunks''
Blame it on the drought.

I recommend that you all try ''Attracting'' things/states that you desire from the universe. I have evidence that it works.

Random Thoughts: Majirani (Neighbours)

We have a new neighbour. She loves to sing aloud. She sings off key. She is a new bride. She peeps through our window at our house. She is the irritating type.

I am struggling to be indifferent.

The husband built a beautiful modern house to the west of our place, she moved in on Saturday and I have had enough of her already. The radio (the electric one and the one on her throat) are on promptly at 6 in the damn a.m and only go off at 7pm in time for the news (on full blast). I like her confidence. Lets wait this out, its only the honeymoon anyway. Here's a toast to a new neighbour!

You see, for the longest time we have not had a next door neighbour, they were all safe distances away in that we stayed out of each other's shit.

To the south there was the sparingly mad old woman, Kamedi, a really strange woman; hanging cups on trees with strings, carrying a mean knife in full view of everyone, climbing the avocado tree at the border to chase away kids who had come to steal her avocados, throwing matusis at anyone she chooses and the worst of them all: confronting and engaging my mom in verbal war. Hehe she was once given a beating like this mpaka from that day she took a vow of silence, only a few times strutting her (old) stuff in a very LOUD matching ngotha and bra, sunbathing under the mapera tree then hitting the sauna in her kitchen ya nje ya mabati( we used to call it a kiln). Haha I will never forget the bikini scene!

Kamedi, part of me misses her drama the other part is thankful my heart does not make so many beats at her mere sight, with her kiondo on her back and that shiny stainless steel blade and handle knife on one hand by her head as she held on to the kiondo handle/rope? She once called me a ding'oing'o (lol) I don't know what its called in English, it's a big fat black flying insect, it makes holes on wood and lives there and it makes a buzzing sound. Anyone know it's name?

Too bad her relatives decided to relieve her of her land and sent her to Mathari Hospital then claimed ''hizo dawa zinamharibu'' before shipping her to Murang'a or some other place. I don't really think she was 'mad mad' seeing as she was independent et al although the grapevine had it that she had killed her two kids and husband then buried them under her house or something. Cock and bull tales. Kamedi, come to think of it I never really knew her real name, probably no one did. Well, your relatives have been taking good care of your land and were harvesting maize today, or was it napier grass?


To the south east were kina Muiru Chi, loosely translated to Mweusi Ti, hehe. His complexion was really rich, really really rich and he had this really red tongue and lips and eyes. Theme, or is scheme: black and red, African and Dangerous.
It's alleged that they were a generation of thieves, petty thieves. He was the 2nd generation. He had a brother and a sister. That compound always had kids, many many kids. The eldest kid is called Tumaini.
Word has it that kina Muiru Chi's dad sold the land they were living on right before he died. They were recently evicted. From my room I got to see them packing their belongings as they left. The bed had only three legs (matendeguu) and the matress, well, it had 'seen life' I got to see some chairs and other things they had relieved our family of. Sad.

I remember a particular night when the proverbial 40th day (or year for that matter) came, we heard screams from the valley; na huko where grass is literally green, the food basket (hehe)of the area, then minutes later what seemed to be heavy footsteps uphill and my mom shouting from the window ''ii aya marorete bara nene'' translating to ''They are headed to the main road.'' Dogs barked in the distance.

Muiru Chi was caught and part of his head and hand sliced off. He had been caught harvesting kales and sukuma wiki and loading them in gunias ready for sale. The next day was market day. The others had escaped unhurt. He was arrested and later released for lack of evidence, I kid.
Years came and went (hehe), sometimes we would hear of a similar case of petty theft. Anyway, they were evicted after some time. I was glad they were gone. I still see Tumaini sometimes.


To west our west lives Drama. He deserves a whole blogpost on his own.

Angani: An Unapologetic She

I am me

Proud to be

A spirit so free

Like no other pea

An original. I am me.

I am proud

Proud of every pound

And of my curves so round

Proud of how I sound

And to where I'm bound...



Sing me a song; Write me a poem.

The Miracle That Set My Faith

As a nursery school kid I hated school. I don't know for what specific reason I did, oh probably something to do with my teacher tasting my food at break time hehe. But don't all kids hate school anyway? On the first day of school I ran away from my classroom and went to my sisters class. I don't know what happened there, I couldn't see anything through my tear blurred eyes. Of the previous minutes events, I only remember my elder sister walking away from me at the Baby Class door and me running after her wailing. But most kids were crying anyway, it was Day 1 for crying out loud! I stayed with her the rest of the day I think. I wonder why no one made An Attempt to take me back to my class, maybe I had some really fierce wail and had been calm for a while or maybe the teachers there knew exactly how to deal with kids like me, they had been there, done all that.

The miracle: It was a Sunday or Monday night and I lay in my bed ( a cot actually hehe) staring through the curtains at the bright night. The G-clef shaped rails' silhouette against the light curtains formed an image that remains imprinted in my mind to this day. You see back then I had to see the sky as I was praying, to face God. I said a prayer I had memorised from some book, I can't remember the title but it was orange in colour.
''Thank you God for the world so sweet,
Thank you God for the food we eat.
Thank You God for the birds that sing,
Thank You God for everything'' Amen

I stared at the G-clef silhouette and wished that the days would go quickly. I was looking forward to the weekend, I dreaded nursery school, most especially that game, that dreadful game where all the kids would sit in a circle singing '' I sent a letter to my father on the way I lost it, Somebody must have picked it up and put it in his pocket.'' Some kid would be circumnavigating as the singing is going on, tapping the kids at the head/shoulder as the song approaches climax ''It wasn't you, it wasn't you, but it was YOU'' The two kids then race in opposite directions and the one who reaches the vacant spot first gets to sit and the other runs around tapping heads. I was ALWAYS that kid running tapping heads or the YOU kid. Yuck! How I hated that game!! Pardon me, I forget the name.

I made my first prayer that night, the first prayer from my head/heart and not from a text book or Bible only as I had usually done. I wished with all my heart for the days to move by quickly.

God answered my prayer! I remember staring at the G-clef shaped rails every subsequent night and thinking 'Oh, what a short day it has been!'

I knew God existed that week. The rest of the school days did not seem so dreadful.At the age of four, I had my first experience with miracles. I still get that WOW feeling...

A Strange Sweet Morning Thought.

''Everytime I sleep, I wake up feeling hooorny'' (I just had to put that Biggie line there seeing as my post is about waking up with feelings.)

OK, I did not wake up feeling horny, I woke up wanting to have someone's baby. Err, who am I kidding? Its not like I am going to get the kid by staring at his gonads long enough. Well anyway I dreamt that I was pregnant with my Habibi's baby, and this is not the first time this is happening so I am starting to get worried. First my mum would kill me if indeed it happened and my dad, well, he would just stare at me in silence until I killed myself. I exaggerate. On the contrary though, I do not think my parents would have issues with me getting pregnant, not considering the fact that I am still in school and the last born among siblings who don't have any kids yet. Hebu I get those thoughts out of my mind already.

''What your mind can concieve, it can achieve''

I know I am not trying to get that thought out of my mind and typing 'concieve' at the same time. Nkt

I asked my sister whether she has any such thoughts and she tells me that ''Uko na dry spell'' with a smirk I would have been better off without. Dry spell?? Hmmm. I tend to think its the fact that we have a date this week,and we spoke jana night right before I slept, and I have missed him oh so much...but still, pregnancy?? I need to get that thought out of my mind! Aarrggghh

''You are what you think you are''
''Dreams are a manifestation of your inner thoughts''


I realise that MAYBE I do not need to stop thinking about it (I know I don't want to anyway hehe) I need to start thinking of it as more of a long term thing if things work out as opposed to 'if I think about it now I will act on it and get pregnant tomorrow.' That and the fact that time can change alot of things, the way one thinks, the way one relates with another etc

Coz that's one very sweet but strange thought I don't think I want to let go of...


#np Habibi Ya Nour El-Ain by Amr Diab
Promise by Ce'cile

Corny Poem #1

If love is a head,
You are my hair.

If love is a breath,
You are my air.

If love is an inheritance,
You are my heir.

If love is a town,
You are my mayor.

If love is literature,
You are my Shakespeare.

But love is a gift,
And with you I want to share.




Sing me a song; Write me a poem.

The Very First Attempt

I am my worst critic. Sometimes I love myself for being able to see past my vain mental indulgences and other times, most times I hate the way I stand in my own way. Its a habit I have nurtured/condoned for a really long time now and I think it's starting to take its toll on me.

I have created quite a number of blogs in the past, most of which exist somewhere out there, but I have never really had the courage to post. Ahem...point of correction, I have never had the courage to let the only post stay longer than four minutes. Feelings of inadequacy would cloud my mind, I would tear apart my post, word by word, until the next natural thing to do was delete it, to do away with my 'boring', 'anticlimax','lame' post. What would people think?? I only wanted to write that 'perfect' blog post and everything would be fine. I would blog happily ever after. It never did come. Maybe it never does, but who knows...

There is no 'right' way of blogging. There may or may not be a perfect blog post, but I sure ain't gonna find it if I don't blog. Right?

I am done tearing myself down.

This is my attempt at doing what I really want to do, blogging!!