Wednesday, 11 June 2014

A LUO MAN, A PERFECT MAN


 

He walks into the room and expertly scans the surroundings with one sweeping look. I am sure he is headed straight for me; his chin is poised at angle perfect enough for him to maintain a rather intimidating eye contact with me while seemingly smelling his own aura. His Hugho Boss cologne does the introduction for him metres before he even reaches me. He is tall, reasonably well built and with a richly dark skin that makes his facial features even more striking. He has glasses on; expensively- rimmed glasses. He is in a tailored official outfit that fits perfectly on his ‘Sauti Soulish’ body; two buttons deliberately left open to reveal an expensive piece of jewelry resting on that well- chiseled chest. His shoes, oh, those shoes! It has to be real leather, brown leather. With one hand inside the pocket, he casually glances at his Rolex watch momentarily shaking his arm and adjusting it to a position where he can check the time clearly. His steps seem to be following a well choreographed motion running through his mind, he owns every step he makes. In my mind I am adjusting that stray hair that seems to be out of place and refreshing my lipstick. I even practice that perfect cheese smile I always have on while in front of the mirror alone! In reality though, I am dazed; my eyes are on a drool. My heart is threatening to pop out of the chest and my entire being wants to bow before this fine bro and ask him to do with me as he pleases. He has had me even before hello!

 

With his arm fully stretched out for a firm handshake:

“Hello jaber, may I please have the honour of sharing your beautiful company over lunch?”

 

(Awkwardly smiling from cheek to cheek) “Hi, I do not mind company either.”

 

“I am Ian, Ian Mark O’dek*. My peers refer to me as Counsel O’dek though. May I know your pretty name?”

Sigh. They always have important- sounding names; it’s always two English names. He pronounced his surname with a stress on the first part, making it sound like some exotic designer brand. Notice that their careers are an informal part of their names too, if he doesn’t mention what he does within ten seconds of meeting you, he is not Luo.

 

“I’m Vilma, pleasure to meet you.”

 

Hehehe! Now now, it is not every day that I pronounce my first name like that, this is not just any man! My ‘A’- game always surfaces from Lord knows where when a Luo guy is involved. My English is at a personal best with words rolling off my tongue like I swallowed some goddamned Dictionary!

 

“That’s a unique and beautiful name jaber, sounds like a name from a well cultured family. So what do you do?”

 

“Thanks, I am in my final year in campus. I am taking a Finance Major.”

 

“Excellent! Beauty with brains, as a matter of fact I have always fancied Bankers and people in that sort of field. I might consider Public Finance for my second Masters degree.”

 

*Eye roll*. I now know he already has his first Masters degree without even asking! He glanced at the menu with a familiar casualness perhaps to indicate he is used to eating at such places, almost paying no attention to the prices section. It’s a Scottish restaurant in Kisumu, I was to have an interview with someone who ended up stuck elsewhere and this happy accident in the name of O’dek happened! He motioned the waiter and asked me to place my order first. He ordered for drinks as we awaited our food to be served; I do not remember the pronunciation of the wine’s name but all I know is that it’s the smoothest wine to pass my throat yet! A gentleman with refined taste;

 Charmant.

 

Let’s not kid ourselves ladies, when a man, any man for that approaches you, he has a clear plan; a plan to sleep with you. When a Luo man approaches you however, he has a detailed blueprint in which he reconnoiters through all that art has placed at his disposal to get you get you drooling, flat on your a*s and begging him to take you to ‘heaven’; a heaven whose directions only Luo men can maneuver! He was too good to be true; but Luo men are always like that- putting up a show is their lifestyle. The lunch entailed me getting unsolicited information about the law firm where he is a partner, his investments and an array of companies he had consulted for. At some point he got up to bring some documents he wanted to go through over lunch from his Subaru parked outside. He clearly stated that the car in which he had left his documents in was a Subaru but he preferred driving a Merc that was still at the garage! That’s the much nerve of bragging I had to put up with. I took the chance to Google his name and holy sh*t! Everything he had said about himself was true!

 

I picked his brains on a broad range of issues from CBK’s Eurobond and its potency to matters Baba. He had no ring on but I had a strong feeling he was a taken fella. A man this crisply polished cannot stay single in a city full of well endowed women like Kisumu. Surely he must have seen plenty of other women before me and one of them must have scored his heart if not his hot self! After the lunch he insisted on taking me back to school, something I vehemently objected to given that being seen alighting from a Subaru at school is the easiest way to joining the dreaded ‘divas’ list. He however insisted that I take a cab, that his future ‘ex- wife’ couldn’t ride a matatu! The charming nerve! Soon after i left I asked the cab driver to refund me three quarters of the fare and let me take a Mat back to school, what a wasteful culture these Luo men have! That guy is too good for me to step anywhere near him again. Anything good about a man always spells trouble. Counsel O’dek made it to my blocked calls list faster than it takes you to say plair! A ‘normal’ man ought to have flaws, many flaws. He should walk clumsily and wear a belt that mismatches his outfit. A ‘normal’ man should be ‘broke’! A ‘normal’ man should have a bit of a beer belly, not fiercely ripped abs! I mean, since when did Lawyers start caring about visiting a gym?! A ‘normal’ man should not generate a load of Google search results! Sorry counsel, you are a Luo, sorry, perfect man. I do not do perfect!

 

*Name changed for anonymity.

 

 

 

Friday, 6 June 2014

GOOGLE’S CHOICE: ‘ALTERNATIVE READERS’ AWARDS!


 

In the Arts business emotions rule; you have to elicit a reaction from your audience whether positive or negative- either way you will have succeeded as an artist. This week I received a surprise email from a reader in Netherlands! Never mind that the much I know about that country is the goddamned ICC, Van Persie and the stories I read about the red- light streets of Amsterdam. A quick check on my Google audience statistics reveals that my second biggest audience after Kenya is Netherlands followed by South Africa, Germany, USA and a host of other countries. As a Writer it’s very easy for one to remained wrapped in their own little world in the name of ‘writing for oneself’ forgetting that that your audience could be so diverse. I have no idea how people from outside Kenya are able to follow my blog as I always find myself writing in ways only local audiences are used to. The beauty of Literature however is that the audience still has the freedom to have their own interpretations.

 

Hallo Netherlands! Hoe gaat het met jouw? I received an email from a kind Dutch lady responding to an earlier post I did about enduring cramping and the African connection. She has never been to Africa but says she knows much about Kenya from the ICC and the famous ‘Safaris’ in the Maasai Mara and other game reserves in the country. She even wrote a few Swahili sentences albeit with broken grammar but it was all very refreshing! She wants me to write more about African women and our ‘daily struggles’, whatever that means. If you come down to Africa, the average young female leads a life more less the same as ladies in Amsterdam or any other European city. We are all going through stuff like education, careers, dating, family, motherhood etc. Our men are more adventurous though, if you know what I am talking about! Kenya is a beautiful country with warm and kind people. Visit us more and eat some delicious nyama choma and drink the totally smooth Kenyan beer, Tusker! The sandy beaches in Mombasa should sound like a plan too once winter sets in back there. Heel hartelijk bedankt! You take the honors in the premiere ‘Alternative Readers Awards’!

 

At second place is the rainbow nation, South Africa. Forget the abrasiveness Kenyans on Twitter displayed when there was tweefing between the two countries the other day, here you are loved wholeheartedly. Guys, I know my surname is popular among the Xhosa people of S. Africa; it is also found among the Luhya people of Kenya! I love the beautiful connection my own name creates between the two nations. Save for the clicking sounds, some Xhosa words sound similar to Luhya words; I will leave for Anthropologists to establish the source of these similarities. We all loved and adored the late Nelson Mandela and yeah, Dstv is a big deal here. Our capital city is Nairobi not Kigali and the current president is Uhuru not Museveni! There is Africa beyond South Africa guys, enough with the ignorance, visit the rest of us! Uh oh, before I forget, S. African comedian Trevor Noah is totally cute and funny! Shout outs to him!

 

Up next is Berlin, wie geht es ihnen? Thank you for gracing my humble blog with your readership too. Borusia Dortmund is my favorite team in the German Bundesliga and the Volkswagen my all time favorite vintage car. If I were to name the features on DW Tv that have left me in awe about German technology it would require a whole blog post! Mesut Ozil, apart from his football prowess has cute eyes too! I might just support Germany in the upcoming world cup courtesy of him. Visit Kenya and enjoy great holidays down here, tell friends to tell friends- Karibu Kenya!

 

We hate to love you guys- Kenya is a USA prototype of sorts. A good number of things back here, including our music and even the constitution are modeled on the lines of USA. We hate the Obama connection- it reminds us everyday how our own leaders make us look bad even in the eyes of our son, Obama. Tech giants like Google, MS etc dominate here and so is the whole Coca cola- Pepsi drama. Heck, there’s even Kentucky chicken being served all over Nairobi. Our athletes dominate all your major city races and you know what, those are chosen from the amateur team squads! Kenyans are as critical as you people and ummm… could you kindly remind Kenyans living there to drop the American twang once they land at JKIA? We totally hate it. We speak Swahili, native languages and Standard English thanks to British colonization; questions about whether we speak ‘African’ will not be entertained. Africa too is a continent, not a country; helooo? There is life beyond the USA, travel and see the beauty that is Africa. Talking of travelling, a certain American Facebook friend of mine once asked me if we play with Lions and Leopards in our backyards like you play with dogs. I forgive her. Thank you for reading my blog USA, objective criticism will be very much welcome to help me grow as a Writer!

 

Jambo Kenya!  I refuse to rank you guys- you are this blog and this blog is you! Special shout outs to my campus, Maseno University. I totally appreciate the curious stares I get from people on the streets and to those who walk up to me to express their views about what I write about, thank you a lot! To my friends like Abdi who reads almost each of my pieces and offers me invaluable counsels towards my writing, thank you! To people who I have never met but religiously read every single piece and encourage me on, I am lost for words. Thank you my loyal readers like Faith, Flo, Ambrose, Joe, Crispin, Karen, Chema and each every one of you who read in anonymity. Thank you. You are the spirit that keeps this small community alive!

 

To my best friends Njeri and Barbs who think I am a total Writing genius, thank you sweethearts. To my mom who is always in awe anytime she ‘accidentally’ reads my blogs when she borrows my laptop, thank you so much! All these brains and mastery of the Queen’s language is courtesy of the good genes you bestowed upon me! To my two brothers Nelson and Menelik who secretly say that their sister is a genius, asanteni sana. I love you big boys; to Menelik, how you manage to retrieve my hidden documents and mess them up is totally appreciated too!

 

I hope to keep writing and tell stories that will not only be entertaining but inspiring too. I would appreciate getting feedback from you guys especially when I do those totally ‘sh*t’ posts that are a pain to readers, I want to write not only for me but for you too! One world, one love, one blog! Thank you ‘Alternative Readers’ from whichever part of the world you may be in.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday, 4 June 2014

21 AND OVER? SINGLE? THIS IS FOR YOU


 

This article is for women who fit in the above- mentioned category. Ladies, welcome to the members club. Feel free to order for anything, bill on me. I am normally a teetotaler but for today I’ll be having a triple dry Martini. I suggest you do double tots and above too, this is not a story fit for the sober mind. This is a story we should all forget once we are sober and back to our lives, inspired by the Oprah Winfrey show. This is not a story True Love’ will ever tell you. It is not a story ‘Eve Sisters’ will tell you. Nevertheless this is a story we all have to hear. All clear, I hope there is no man still around. Twende kazi:

 

Disclaimer: This article is in no way meant to suggest that all that women should do on earth is fight to escape singlehood. It is still the story of our lives though. I am assuming all the women participating in the quiz are straight and easy on the eye.

 

Quick questionnaire. All sections have to be filled clearly in capital letters, bold and underlined where necessary. Blanks will not be entertained.

 

  1. When was the last time a total stranger hit on you, asked for your number and invited you out for a REAL DATE? (Please stay informed that ‘total stranger’ does not include men on social media, men you met in bars, married men, colleagues or schoolmates).

If it’s more than three months ago take your first shot within two seconds and feel free to say any cuss word. What a misogynistic world we live in!

 

  1. Do you suddenly feel empowered to hit on men too? When was the last time you hit on a guy? (This includes conscious flirting, unnecessarily complementing him, offering to cook/ clean for him etc).
    If your response is positive, make your drink a triple and ask for lemon slices from the bartender.
     
  2. Do you have a gang of girlfriends you hang out with regularly? Do you have ‘ladies night/day out’ where you spend time trashing your ex’s and men in general?
    If you answered in the affirmative, you should get a front row seat as the session proceeds. Feel free to start drinking your Vodka straight from the bottle.
     
  3. Do you suddenly feel empowered to have several random flings purely for sex? Are you warming up to the idea of ‘friends with benefits’? Do you objectify men?
    If yes please move to the counter.
     
  4. When was the last time you got a freebie from a man out of pure kindness? I am talking free drinks at the club, unsolicited airtime/cash, offer to pay bus fare etc?
    If you find yourself creasing your forehead to answer this question please proceed swiftly to the next question.
     
  5. How busy is your phone apart from work- related matters? (Please let’s kindly keep juvenile things like WhatsApp/FB/Twitter notifications out of this). Does your phone only get busy during weekends as team mafisi look for random women to kill the cold with? Do the supposed men who hit on you only call and text during weekends or holidays?
    Positive? Drink on sister, drink on.
     
  6. How is your dress sense now compared to say, 3 years ago if below 25 and at least 7 years ago if above 25? Would you describe your fashion sense as bold? Are you daringly showing more skin now?
    Showing more skin? You should be crawling back to your seat.
     
  7. How many concerts have you attended so far with the sole purpose of getting a possible boyfriend? Do you hang out more solely to get hit on by men?
    Your fears affirmed? Your leg should be resting on a crate of cold Whiskey by now.
     
  8. Are you quick to read/watch/listen to material that purports to be ‘relationship advice’? Wait, how quickly did you click on this link?!
    If you are a ‘relationship advice’ junkie, you are in a good position for the honors today, proceed on.
     
  9.  Do you get critical anytime you are invited for a wedding? Do you find yourself making divorce- related or any negative statements about the newly- weds at weddings?
     
    Yes? Silly, marriage was ordained by God not you.
     
  10.  Do you ‘hate’ love? Do you make statements to the effect that love is an illusion/ non- existent etc? Do you say things like ‘love is a decision, not a feeling’ etc?
    Do you honey? This is bad news.
     
  11.  Do you hate getting invited to baby showers? Do you think it is becoming a tad too common and is ‘interfering’ with your schedule? Do you find yourself asking when you’ll have your own baby too when shopping for diapers, formula etc for your friends/ relatives with babies?
    Who hates on babies? Stupid.
     
  12.  Are you currently dating a married man? Have you dated one before or are entertaining thoughts of becoming a mistress?
    Yes? We are setting the dogs on you. Marriage wrecker.
     
     
    I won’t say too much sh*t seeing as my own head is heavy already. Honey, if you positively id with two or more of the above situations, you are what Cosmo calls ‘an actively searching female’. But that’s Cosmo and that is the language they use to keep you buying their magazine year in year out. What you are is a desperate female searching for a husband. The good news is that it has nothing to do with you, blame it on a generation of men that fear the commitment word. Stop all this madness, life is for living; not for wasting looking for non- existent husbands! Enjoy while it lasts.

Tuesday, 3 June 2014

I REFUSE TO BE AN ‘AFRICAN WOMAN’


 

I have failed the generation that is African women, terribly so. As I write this I have just recovered from an episode of intense menstrual cramping that had almost claimed my sanity. Earlier during the day some of my friends came visiting and the subject of discussion was…Childbirth! As everyone got talking about the best way to bring forth new life I found myself in familiar territory- holding a contradicting opinion that made me the black sheep of the conversation. After what I just underwent for three hours or so this evening, I feel vindicated to have been of the opinion that Caesarian Section is the best way to go about things. I refuse to be an African woman regarding the issue of reproductive processes. I know anything natural is always the best choice but if it involves pain, I’ve gotta give it a second, third and even fourth thought.

 

Back to cramping; after being criticized by my friends for being a weakling who always wants the easy ways out, I started thinking seriously about my ‘Africanness’ and how I could begin expressing it. As if the gods had their ears on the ground waiting to help a sister in her quest to be a true African woman, my ‘days of the month’ decided to show up today, how appropriate! This is a God sent opportunity! I thought to myself as I braced myself for five days or so of giving painkillers a wide berth and enduring the pain like a proper African woman. This was going to be a good starting point if I was to embrace the idea of labor pains and natural birth in the near future. I was excited; it felt like I was a confident soldier going to war for the first time and with the surety of a victory in the battle.

 

I was tempted to go to the Chemist and get some painkillers ‘just in case’, I mean; the late Maya Angelou said a proper woman should always be armed to the tooth for anything, right? I decided to pass the idea and headed back to my house. My sixth sense told me it was a bad idea given the intensity of pain that was awaiting me but with the hindsight of how proud my friends had been as they described their ‘African woman moment’ of braving pain during such times, I decided to soldier on. There is always a first time, I told myself as I filled several bottles with hot water to join the brigade of African women fighting pain ‘the natural way’. I even busied myself with physical exercise as I had been advised and did a random walk around school to avert any cramping on the way.

 

The first pang of pain cut right across my tummy like a sharp object. I lay on my back and got onto the first remedy- think less about the pain and divert your thoughts to something more interesting, like someone you love. I started thinking about a certain guy, a certain guy in my Fb inbox with really cute eyes. It made me feel better for a while. Only for a short while; before I knew it the cramping was fast spreading from my tummy to my thighs. Heh! That was just it. I took two hot water bottles and quickly placed them on my tummy and thighs. Bad idea, the heat from the water was making the pain even more intense. My back too had joined forces now and I just couldn’t stand the pain. Did I mention nausea and a bad headache? I tried doing a self massage but that didn’t make things any better. Lying in bed felt like relaxing in the middle of a bonfire, the pain seemed to increase with any slight movement I made.

 

I saw death, no; I was dead for a moment. I swear I became numb for some seconds and feared I had joined my ancestors right in the middle of my bold quest to become an ‘African woman’. When I regained consciousness being an ‘African woman’ was the last thing on my mind. I asked my housemate to go collect any kind of painkillers she could get from our neighbors. She came back with a cocktail of drugs, some of which I have never seen or heard of. I was like a druggie who had been off their thing and their system was threatening to explode if they didn’t do a re- boot at the earliest opportunity. I quickly grabbed two yellow capsules I’ve never seen and two Paracetamols and gobbled them down with lots of water before jumping into my bed and covered completely. Whatever happens let it happen as long as it is not the pain I am currently experiencing.

 

I woke up two hours later covered in sweat but with a surprisingly relived body and a light head. I wanted to write immediately! My housemate offered me supper, it was around midnight. I said no, the inspiration bug had bit me and this is not a moment any Writer wants to pass. I rarely get inspired by failure but here I was all flared up after my poor show in braving pain like my fellow African women. It’s currently raining outside even as I write this. I feel like going outside to dance in the rain and tell my African forefathers that I have failed. The bar was placed too high for me. I want that bar lowered or my name be forever struck out of the book of ‘African women’ if the tenets are going to be voluntary endurance of physical pain.

 

I am thinking about labor pains now. If I could not stand a few hours of cramping pain how will I even face the pangs of childbearing? Will my husband see me as a complete failure if I fail to endure pain for the sake of his children? No, will I feel like a complete failure if I do not endure pain while bringing forth our children? Does it make me any less of an African woman that I am so afraid of physical pain? Isn’t there any other measure of being a ‘true African woman’ apart from endurance of pain? Why must our strength always be inspired by pain? Isn’t it time we all rested from the idiocy that is putting ourselves through physical pain in order to express our womanhood? I am strong but I refuse deliberate pain. To my future husband: my strength is not sufficient to see me through a labor ward but if you promise to stick by my side to the very last minute, I might just pass Caesarian section and go through those six hours or so of pain to bring forth our child. What I mean is- if you volunteer to be the recipient of my out of love kicks and blows as I go through labor pain, yes honey, natural will do it for me! Meanwhile I will be at the Chemist first thing in the morning to get my monthly dose of painkillers; I have refused to be an African woman!