have you ever…?

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
- Neil Gairman

Day 33 (Peanut Butter & Sushi)

Mood: No Comment

Mode: Silent

Thoughts: …

I’m heavy. I told you I’d get heavy. I’m approaching the 6 month mark since I returned home and I’m already round-ish. Being the grown a** man that I am, my weight has never really bothered me. My level of fitness/overall health, yes but my weight, no. In fact I couldn’t give a plump baby’s tush whether you bumped into me on Koinange Street and the first thing you said to was: “Wow NV, you’ve lost so much weight.” I wish. You’d probably say the opposite. which I’d probably interpret as you indirectly suggesting that I should quit the legal profession and become a teletubbie or something. In my defense, my weight has always fluctuated for as long as I can remember kinda like Oprah’s and the main reasons behind it other than my mountain-goat metabolism, are mostly psychological and environmental.
Psychologically speaking, I’m complex. I’m not like most people who tend to drop kilos when they’re stressed and gain weight when they’re comfy and relaxed. I can gain and lose weight for any number of reasons. For instance, whenever my family moved to a new country, my feet would immediately start to swell and soon after that I knew my weight would ballon for a bit before stabilizing. Last year, I lost a lot of weight partly because of stress. But I knew it wouldn’t be too long before I’d stop having to make extra holes in my belts. Then I come home and voila, I’m back to having love handles, the slightly protruding patriotic front and sumo-wrestler wedgies from being seated even briefly. Okay, before you start thinking I’ve turned into a tank or something, I’m only 92 kilos which isn’t that bad for a 6’2’’ guy. Or so I’d like to think.
Environmentally speaking, what more can I say other than stating the obvious: Nairobi is conducive to getting chubby. Back in Geneva, I worked during the day and studied at night but I was still able to survive on 2 meals a day. Out here, c’est impossible! Seriously, I don’t know whether its because of the weather or something else. My appetite is through the roof despite the fact that I always make sure I eat enough. In the morning, I wolf down a ¾ loaf and scrambled eggs washed down with tea and by 10, I’m hungry again, then there’s lunch at 13h00 and after every 3 hour interval thereafter, like clock-work, I’m back to looking for something to eat. It’s not just my ravenous appetite or the debilitating hunger pangs that I’ve come to notice, I also get cravings these days too, for instance I’d kill for a cold glass of Cambodian breast milk and a peanut butter & sushi sandwich three warm chapos and a plate of ndengu with stew right about now. Again, in my defense, I try and exercise out here but its not easy. Let it be known, I’ve never been a gym person. I love exercising outdoors, whether its chasing a ball around, chasing my shadow around, chasing chlorine bubbles around or whatever. But Nairobi is no where near conducive for outdoor sports of any kind. unless you’re running away from police, chasing after a mathree or using the stairs because the lifts are out of order, again. In fact, the nearest gym from where I live is… far! The nearest public field/gymnasium/swimming-pool is…faaar! I’m not complaining though, I just find it funny how everything in this town has become a commute. Another thing on the environment point is that people here are generally very complacent when it comes to issues of exercising and keeping fit. The only peer pressure you ever have to worry about in this town is all the drinking and going-out plans that are constantly coming your way. There are no people jogging around the neighbourhood to make you feel bad about not having exercised in 2 weeks, there are no ads on T.V telling you that you’re fat and that they have the perfect product to keep you in shape. There’s none of that. It all comes down to self-motivation. If one of your resolutions this New Year’s was to keep fit and eat healthy and you’re finding it hard to do that, join the club. That being said, the year is still young so there’s ample time to find a suitable exercise rhythm. It shall be done!

–
Now playing: Kanye West – ‘New Work-Out Plan’

Day 32 (Ego)

Mood: Calm

Mode: Touchscreen

Thoughts: Male v. Female

« Its too big, its too wide, its too strong, it wont fit.. its too much, its too tough.. »

I’m sure I was not the only one who was thinking what I was thinking when I first heard this lyric. But I digress. Those words are actually in the chorus of Beyonce’s song ‘Ego’ from her ‘I Am Sasha Fierce’ album. Speaking of Miss Knowles/ Mrs Carter, I didnt stay up to watch the grammy’s last night but I was pretty sure she would have a great night seeing as she was nominated for a staggering 6 grammy awards including top honours i.e. Album of the Year. But apparently she didn’t get that coveted Album of the Year grammy.
Tough luck Bey, I’m guessing Kanye West wasnt there to interrupt Taylor Swift like he did last year, huh?

Let’s go back to this ‘Ego’ song, it interests me.

I still don’t get why some women refuse to admit that their egos are just as fragile if not more fragile than our egos. I realise that alot of the focus has always been on the male ego, naturally. But to my mind, the female ego is just as fragile as the male ego for reasons that may not be as well discussed, researched, or documented as is the case for the male ego.

First off, women are in precarious position when it comes to their egos. For those women who are percieved to be full of themselves, they end up having all sorts of beef with other females. As for males, we’d just call you a stuck-up b* and ignore you. But at the same time, for women, having an ego is more than just pride, its also about protection and self-preservation especially where men are concerned. I get that. But when the female ego is bruised, she turns her into a totally different person and the guy is left there like….huh?

Let’s take rejection, for instance. The kind of rejection I’m talking about is when you turn down a woman’s advances, whether its on principle or for whatever other reason. Since the time of Adam and Eve, determining when and how sex takes place has always been the exclusive preserve of the woman so when she decides she wants it and you turn her down (repeatedly), that crushes her ego completely. This is not the case for men. We’re used to rejection. It’s part of the chase, the hunt, the thrill of it all. You go in knowing full well that it doesnt matter who she is to you or who you’d want her to be to you, she could still reject you and act like nothing ever happened. Our egos dont get bruised over that. We just move on and c’est la vie quoi.
But for women, rejection becomes almost personal. In fact it’s more than personal. The funny thing is that you could be completely blameless in the whole thing, for instance if you’re operating under the assumption that y’all were strictly platonic, then next thing you find yourself being taken in a completely different direction. Rejecting that woman’s advances unleashes a whole different side of her that would frighten Medusa, not to mention the cold shoulder and silent treatment you’ll get after that. Forever. This reaction in itself lends credence to my theory that women will only have platonic male friends that they assume find her ‘interesting’ (read: attractive). Ofcourse, women’s reaction to rejection is quite understandable. I mean, if I was a woman and my whole life I grew up being told that my virtue is sacred and that I should keep it pure and only offer it to the man I intend to marry, then ofcourse I’d be pissed as hell if I offered it to you and you had the nerve to turn me down. I’d feel insulted. AND I’d think you’re gay. So yeah, my ego would be seriously bruised.

To sum up, I’ve come to acknowledge that the female ego does indeed exist and must be handled with care just as is the case with the male ego. So, since women claim to be constantly stroking my..uhm.. ego to make me feel like a man, I’ll make a conscience effort to do the same…for them. If you’re a female friend, the most I can do for you is throw you a compliment once in a while to get you to feel good about yourself and make your day a little brighter. If you’re my woman, I’ll go out of my way to make you feel secure and loved no matter what you may be going through. And as my woman, I’d expect you to do the same for me and my ‘fragile’ ego.

That is all.

–
Now Playing : Viktor Vaughn – ‘ Let Me Watch’

Plastic fork moments….many plastic fork moments…

Those who know me well enough, will understand the title of this post.

In a world where the color of my skin, my last name and where I went to school should not matter in the least – it sadly still does.

I just got back home despite the comments of “why the smokes are you going back to that place?” and the most common “If I were you I would never go back”.  But I did.  I took the plunge and here I am.  In my head strong ways, I decided I am not one to research Africa from a desk in Europe – that sort of research has proven to be rather dangerous with reference to it’s effects.  So “lucky” for me (the lucky in quotes shall be explained as this post develops) I got myself an internship at an organization that’s working towards easing ethnic tensions and showing Kenyans that they actually have more in common than they do in terms of differences.  Great right?  My chance to save the world starting with my own country!

That’s exactly what I thought too.  Thing is, us interns come under this foreign lady from a country that was known for its ditsy leader up until the big “yes we can” era.  I totally understand that in all organizations there is that one person that just drives people up the wall.  That however would be a gross understatement in this case.  Firstly she doesn’t have the background or contextual knowledge for this sort of work, she has this condescending thing about her which really really does not fly with me.  I have always maintained that you can tell a whole lot about a person by the way they treat staff lower than them.  You should see how she treats the watchmen!  When a person wants everyone to feel that she is uber busy and has a 30 page to do list, or has a perpetual urge to know eeeverything and hoard as much information as she can possibly hoard, then there is a disconnect somewhere.  In addition to feeling that business cards should be ordered from over the seas – why I have no idea if you are at an organization that’s pushing for the betterment of Kenya.  It bugs me to no ends.  Yes we make some pretty decent business cards in Kenya too!  I also get the feeling like she feels anyone with an American education is super cool – even if they have neither relative education nor experience whatsoever.  I also don’t see how knowing where I grew up is relevant to my job or rather excuse for a job since the pay is amazingly ridiculous, if I can even call it “pay”.

But for now, I’m not sitting at home and this is going on my C.V as I wait for a job where I don’t go cross eyed in feelings of grrr just thinking about it.  So I put myself in robot mode, I do what I have to do and don’t go out of my way, or even attempt to stick my head out as I watch her run circles around herself.

Day 31 (Platonic?)

Mood: Pensive

Mode: Silent

Thoughts: Inspired in part by CB’s latest post.

“Nooo, nooo…he’s like my brother! Ewww”

That’s what she said to you, right? Then again that’s what all women say about their platonic male friends. Ever cared to know what your platonic male friend thinks about you and how he really feels about your platonic friendship? I’m a guy like him so I’m qualified to speak on such matters. But unlike him, I’m not going to hide it from you or mince my words on this. Long story cut short, if he’s hanging around you a lot more than he should, checking up on you and sh*t, buying you sh*t, always there if you need a shoulder to cry on, he’s definitely thought of hitting that. And that fact alone, by definition, makes your friendship far from platonic. Ideally a platonic relationship, from a guy’s point of view, should be like the relationship he would have with his opposite gender sibling. Normal men don’t have any sexual attraction to their sisters. However, the reality is that normal men DO have a sexual attraction to their female friends. In fact, by our very nature, most normal men are conditioned to categorise women (yes, ALL women) as follows:
1. Women I’d never shag.
2. Women I’ve shagged but have no interest in shagging again.
3. Women I’ve shagged and would happily shag again.
4. Women I haven’t shagged yet but would love to.

Don’t argue with this, its science.

Why do you think women get so jealous about her man’s platonic female friends? It’s because she knows that if her man and her platonic female friend were ever alone together, there’s a higher chance of her turning down his advances than the other way round i.e. her man saying ‘No’ to her advances. It follows from this, ladies, that your platonic male friend had already categorised you in either #3 or #4 in the above list. But you already know all this. He’ll always hint, ever so subtly or not, and what do you do? You friend-zone him. Which is cool because it gets him to back off. Or so you think.

But what I’ve always wondered is why women still find comfort in the notion of a platonic friend at the same time deep inside you are convinced that “all men are the same” including your guy friends and therefore never really believe them to be purely platonic anyway. Meanwhile a part of you, LIKES the idea of this…that your male friend, the one you run to and b*tch to about your own lover, would gladly bed you if given half a chance. Because it is in those moments of feeling unappreciated by your significant other that you get mad vulnerable and your vanity gets the best of you. You’re looking for evidence that you are special, you are beautiful and you are damn desirable. Innit? And you like knowing that you could, with the snap of your fingers, cross the line with him with little or no resistance from him, the very same man you were just a minute ago calling your “platonic friend”. It’s obvious that there is a small (or large) part of you that likes to KNOW that you could if you wanted to shag your best male friend if you so desired. It is in those moments that, all of a sudden, you wish you were more physically attracted to him, that you start giving him desirable traits that he doesn’t really even have, that you start letting your mind wander about things you have long fought off and suppressed. It is in those moments that your own assurance that things are strictly platonic become questionable even for a millisecond.
And that’s all it takes.

I’m just trying to understand… Platonic?

—

Now playing- A Tribe Called Quest – ‘Find My Way’

Day 29 (Shoot the messenger)

 Mood: Comme Ci, Comme Ça

Mode: Depêche

Thoughts: …PSA

Don’t let the babyface and my apparent lack of facial hair fool you, I’m a grown a** man. But there are a lot of things I’ve noticed among my fellow males around the streets of Nai that are the furthest thing from being grown-a**-man’ish.

This PSA will begin in 4,3, 2….1. Here goes:

-Men who don’t wear watches:

How do you go about your day constantly reaching into your pocket to check your cell for the time or worse still, you tap me on the shoulder and keep pointing at your bare and ashy wrist? Get a watch already! If you can afford cufflinks for your decent-looking shirt, please get yourself some decent wristwear, it’s for your own good. (preferably in leather, preferably Swiss).

-Men who don’t carry wallets:

I feel all you men out there who prefer not to carry their wallets around. Who wants to have a wallet the size of a Steers burger bulging out of your back pocket, right? I hear you but truth is, when you don’t have a wallet, paying for anything always turns out looking like a black man being patted down at an airport terminal only for you to unleash a bunch of crumpled-up bank notes. Whereas if you had a… *wait for it*… wallet, you wouldn’t have this problem. Moral of the story: get a wallet! If you have one, use it. As far as making sure there’s always enough cash in there, that goes without saying.

-Men who still grow their hair:

Listen, if Maxwell himself aka Mr I-have-impregnated-most-of-the-world’s-women-with-my-voice-alone shaved off his panty-dropping afro opting for the clean-cut look, what makes you think you’re special? Men all over the world are realizing that India Arie is a damn liar, and that the whole ‘I am not my hair’ thing is complete hogwash. It doesn’t matter whether you’re 5’ 6’’ or 6’ 2’’, the first thing women notice about you is your hair. So for us men, keeping your hair short and neat is the only acceptable way to go regardless of whether you think you’ve got a hexagon-shaped cranium or you’re a direct descendant of Samson. The fade is in. You betta ask somebody!

-Men who wear ‘mob’ jewelry:

This is a personal one that a lot of y’all men and women may not agree with me. I think my Helvetic timepiece is all I need to compliment the suits I wear. So, I don’t wear jewelry. A lot of men I’ve seen seem to be fond of wearing bracelets and several blingy rings and chains under their shirts. I’ve always wondered why. It seems a bit much if you ask me. When I get married, I will gladly wear my plain but elegant white-gold wedding band (any other type of wedding band is out of the question for me) on my finger everywhere but this whole business of wearing blingy gold pinky rings and what-not, that’s not for me.

-Men who wear those Ali baba’ish leather shoes:

Y’all know exactly what I’m talking about! Its appalling what passes as stylish leather shoes for men these days. I’ve seen a lot of these pointy-looking shoes all over and I’m not sure whether to look directly at those things for fear of being impaled. It goes without saying that having good shoes on your feet at all times, is a must especially since most women tend to judge you accordingly. So you’d rather go for simple and plain but quality leather shoes than those funny-shaped Ali baba-looking shoes. I’m just sayin’.

-Men who insist on doing stupid things with their ties:

We all went through our excellent 8-4-4 system where we graduated from those ties with elastic bands to real ties that we learned to tie ourselves. I remember on my first day of school, my imaginary dad’s 6’4’’frame standing over me infront of the bathroom mirror as I tied my tie for school. What I don’t get is why so many Kenyan men insist on tying these ridiculously huge big a** knots on their ties. My definitely of a big knot is one which fills up the entire V-shaped area in between shirt and the suit and makes the shirt collar look reaaally tiny in comparison. I don’t understand anyone who want to tie their ties in this weird fashion especially since it ends up making your tie look short, unless you enjoy walking around looking like a damn clown with a bowtie on or something. Funga tai vizuri!

-Men who insist on wearing their ‘stunna shades’ unnecessarily:

I reckon the only time men should be allowed to wear sunglasses is when they’re in the CBD. Why? Because otherwise you’d just look like a damn pervert checking out all those attractive women that walk by. Atleast with sunglasses, it’s not always that obvious what or who or who’s what you nearly broke your neck trying to get mental images of. Generally speaking, most men who wear sunglasses are usually trying to hide something. Personally, I’ve never seen the point of  owning a pair of sunglasses. Besides, I’ve gotten so many compliments about these ‘beautiful’ brown eyes of mine – why would I want to go from that to being that shady-looking tall guy that always wears sunglasses?

Otherwise, I’m out. ‘Nice time!’ & Happy weekend, y’all. 

———-

Now playing: Little Brother ft. Dion – ‘Step Ya Game Up’

Day‭ ‬25‭ (‬Pretty Wings‭)

Mood:‭ ‬Still Purple

Mode:‭ ‬Study‭

Thoughts:‭ Her..

You‭ ‬know how the saying goes:‭ ‬One man’s loss is another man’s gain.‭ ‬And‭ ‬Maxwell in this song knows what‭ ‬he’s lost.‭ ‬There’s not a day that goes by that‭ ‬he doesnt think about her.‭ ‬He‭ ‬doesn’t‭ ‬see why he‭ ‬has to let her go but at the same time he already has.‭ ‬The song is clear,‭ ‬he wants her to spread her wings.‭ ‬He wants her to be happy.‭ ‬He wants her to finally have some stability and security in her life.‭ ‬He wants her to be able to make plans for the future and not have to keep worrying that she’ll have this constant weight on her shoulders slowing her down.‭ ‬He wants her to‭ ‬feel like she doesn’t have to go through everything on her own and that she’s got someone she can lean on for a change.‭ ‬He wants her to have someone she can‭ ‬turn to,‭ ‬someone she can admire,‭ ‬someone she can be proud to be associated with,‭ ‬someone she doesn’t have to keep making excuses for or have to keep explaining away‭ ‬his faults and mistakes.‭ ‬He wants her to have all the things‭ ‬he knows she wants and needs.‭ ‬He‭ ‬knows it’s selfish of‭ ‬him to keep telling‭ ‬himself that‭ ‬he shouldn’t let her go just because‭ ‬he’s gotten to know‭ ‬her‭ ‬better than most people have and‭ ‬that‭ ‬his love for her will be enough to make things work.‭ ‬He knows he hurt her and assures her that‭ ‬time will heal her wounds and that time will help her forget him but deep down,‭ ‬he doesnt want her to forget‭ ‬him.‭ ‬Not ever.‭ ‬He doesn’t want her to only remember all the times that little voice inside her told her to walk away and she chose to stay.‭ ‬He doesn’t want her to‭ ‬see just how confused and conflicted he is over this whole thing.‭ ‬He doesn’t want her to so much as imagine that he sits around thinking about anyone else other than her.‭ ‬He doesn’t want her to give up on him and move on with someone else.‭ ‬He doesn’t want her to‭ ‬ever listen to‭ ‘‬Pretty Wings‭’ ‬and not remember the‭ ‬Blacksummers‭’‬night‭ ‬summer‭ ‬they‭ ‬spent together.‭

I feel him.

Day 21 (Scared Sh*tless)

Mood: Purple

Mode: Time-out

Thoughts: Random..

I’m not afraid of death. Death is certain and the fact that it could happen to us at any time is more the reason to just accept it when it finally calls your name. That being said, I am only human and I still feel fear and occasionally I hit high pitched girly shrieks like when I bungie-jumped off a 210 foot bridge over Victoria Falls in Zambia; that’s probably one side of me I’m glad my woman will never have to see, although she’s terribly petrified of heights so she’d probably be screaming her head off too..

But on the daily, I do admit that there are things that cross my mind and literally scare me sh*tless: If you listen to the intro to Musiq Soulchild’s song “Babymother”, you’ll probably understand where this post is coming from. Ok, I’m playing. But while we’re on the subject of fears, I realised while writing this post, that my fears are more or less clearly compartmentalised and the list goes something like this:-

1. Career-related fears:

I’d be lying if I said that I’m cool with not being successful in my career. We all would. But I will never compare myself with anyone. I’ve set my own goals, I have my own set of challenges, my own strengths and weaknesses but most importantly, only I know where I’ve come from and what it will take for me to get where I need to go. So I guess the only thing I’m really scared of is letting myself down and having to pick up the pieces then start again. Not like I haven’t hit rock bottom before. It’s just that I know I’ve got a long way to go and the last thing I need is avoidable setbacks and poor career decisions slowing me down at this early stage.

2. Relationship-related fears:

The main underlying one for most people is committing to the ‘wrong’ person i.e. someone that isn’t ready/willing/able to reciprocate. For me, my fear arises in those seemingly insurmountable obstacles that keep me from being with her whereby you’re either asking her to wait for you or telling her to let you go with the hope that you’ll be brought back together somewhere down the line. Either one of these kinds of situations scares me sh*tless because I know there’s always a chance that she could decide not to wait around or eventually simply move on with her life, leaving me holding on to something that’s already gone.

3. Fatherhood-related fears:

3.1 That polygamy dead-beat daddy syndrome is  hereditary/genetic:

I know I am just a statistic in the large number of fatherless sons out there (minus immaculate conceptions and test-tube babies) but as far as fatherhood goes, I am scared sh*tless of my children growing up without knowing their father. Although I am eternally grateful for ma dukes and the way she’s been there for me and my bro, I still believe that men should be raised by men and women always need a father in their life. So I fully intend to be there for my kids and their mother.

3.2 Losing my woman through to child-birth complications or losing my child:

My woman and I have it all figured out. All our kids are going to be born through waterbirth and I’ll be right there in the pool with her, holding her hand when that little big-headed (daddy’s genes) bundle of joy is pushed out into the world. But every time I think about it or when I look it up online and see all the various complications that could arise, it scares me sh*tless. But, inch’allah one day we’ll get to that point and all will go well.

3.3 Having a daughter:

As much as it’s always been my eternal wish to have a daughter, the more I think about it, I get scared. Allow me to elaborate.

3.3.1 Firstly, I’m afraid of having one of those beautiful, early bloomer daughters simply because I was a boy once upon a ago and I know how boys think and all the things they’d be planning for my baby. *cue recurring nightmare screams: ‘Noooooooo!’* So, I’ve started flooding God’s inbox in advance with such-like messages:

Dear Man Upstairs, I already know my unborn babygirl’s going to be blessed with amazing genes (you know how her mama got it bad!) but please let her be a total daddy’s girl that never questions anything I tell her and never experiments with stuff.

Thanks.

PS: A nerdy tomboy with a cute face who doesn’t grow breasts or booty until she’s 22 would work perfectly.

3.3.2 Secondly I’m afraid of having one of those socially awkward “unattractive” females simply because a part of me would rather be the father that has young hormone-raging boys banging my door down trying to see my daughter than having a girl that’s made fun of in school and doesn’t have a date to the prom. Again, I was once a boy and I know how we treated such girls and I wouldn’t want my baby to go through that. I’m just sayin’

3.4 Having a gay son:

If God were to deny me my eternal wish of having a daughter, I’d gladly have a son as long as he does not turn out to be.. uhm.. gay. I’m not homophobic, but as a father I’d feel like I’ve failed in some way in my parenting duties. I’d still try my best to be there for him and encourage him always but I wouldn’t be comfortable with it especially knowing how conservative and close-minded our society still is.

4. Other miscellanous sh*t I’m afraid of:

Sodomy:

As a young lad, I remember there was this old abandoned house just outside our hood where we used to like to run around in and play cops and robbers in, until this strange hobboe decided to start squatting there. The older kids then started spreading a rumour that the hobboe was fond of little kids like us because he could lure us in with sweets then lubricate his pipi with Blue Band and stick it in our doodoo holes basically do inappropriate things to us. It’s safe to say that we never went over there ever again. Ever.

As a man, I’m still scared sh*tless of anything remotely like that happening to me, especially since I know if happens to a lot of men who go to prison. If there was ever a stronger deterrent against committing even a traffic offence for me, getting assf*cked “getting my salad tossed” aka sodomy would be it.

Dying in a foreign country:

I’m seriously proud to be a Kenyan and although I’ve spent more than half of my quarter of a century on earth in foreign lands, I’ve always carried my motherland with me everywhere I’ve been. But as I mentioned at the very beginning of this post, I know death is coming for all of us and that in an instant it could all be over. Nevertheless, I always used to say that I would be willing to make a deal with the grim reaper himself if I could be spared my fateful demise until I am back on home soil. I’d even go around telling random diasporans that I want to die anywhere in Kenya and have my remains scattered over the Indian Ocean. Well, I’m home now so in case I get hit by a speeding ambulance on Argwings Kodhek road or something freaky like that, just know I died with a big fat smile on my face.

Word!

——–

Now Playing: Little Brother – ‘The Becoming’

gone…

This year was supposed to be better.  This week someone passed on.  I didn’t know him, but many people I know knew him.  His passing was not fair in the least and it doesn’t make sense at all.  He was just starting off a great career and life and his life ends just like that.  It’s mind boggling and even if I don’t know him, this sadness came over me and my heart goes out to his loved ones.  I don’t know how people are so certain about the whole heaven thing, but I hope that’s what happens and that he is up there with the angels and all those that have passed on…all looking down on us.

So may he rest in peace…

Day 18 (Ayobaness..)

Mood: Monday Blues

Mode: Rewind

Thoughts: Diasporadical..

Over the weekend, I got an e-mail from a facebook buddy I vaguely remember from high school. She was excited. She’d been offered a place at my alma mater which got its name from being on the most southern tip of Zuma-land. With peculiar familiarity, she shared with me how she had since accepted the offer then got her travel documents and finances in order and that her orientation sessions start in a fortnight’s time. So she concludes her loquacious, happy-chappy e-mail with the following statement:

“So, anyways I know you went to school there. Please tell me, what’s it like? What should I expect? Got any tips for me?”

Well I cant say I didnt expect such questions especially with most of my Kenyan pals planning roadtrips down South for the World Cup this June. But I definitely didnt expect questions about the campus life. As for that particular school down there.. hmm. Well, I’m still in the process of exchanging hateful e-mails with the administration over long overdue outstanding academic matters. But let me dig deep and find something to say about those inefficient, self-serving, borderline racist fools. *Pause* Ok that was TMI, so I hit ‘delete’ for about 5 mins and restart the e-mail response as I attempt to pen something fairly pleasant about that school. Don’t get me wrong, my relationship with the school may have been bitter-sweet (more bitter than sweet, clearly) but the city itself, the Mother City as they call it, was perfect. A magical city indeed. There are way too many distractions for it to be a university city if you ask me, but its by far one of the best cities I’ve lived in on our continent.
Word!

Only thing is, you’ll only truly enjoy this gorgeous city when you don’t have the shackles of education clickedy-clanking everywhere you go. But let me guess, you’ve probably visited it once before with your family on one of those annual holiday getaway thingies that Kenyan middle- class families usually have. Right? You all flew down there, roasted in the December heat, got a nice BnB or hotel somewhere in the Gardens area or was it Rondebosch? So then you ventured out, cameras ready, went up on the cable car, admiring the breath-taking vistas surrounding Table Mountain, got adventurous and hiked Devil’s Peak then picnicked somewhere in the beautiful wine estates, sampled the pristine beaches along the Atlantic, took family bonding photos on Robben Island, then passed by and visited Mandela’s upgrade in Bishop’s Court, explored the V&A Waterfront, experienced how the rich and wealthy live it up in Camps Bay, walked the famous Long Street with its vibrant and inviting atmosphere filled with cafes, restaurants, boutiques and markets perhaps? You probably did a whole bunch of other cool stuff too, yeah woop woop for you. But that was a holiday, your parents paid for everything.

However, as a student, CT can be a cruel city. It’s the most expensive city to live in. It’s the legislative capital first, a tourist city second and a university city in close third. So that means things like accommodation, transportation and living expenses aren’t cheap. But anyone could’ve told you that much, so I’m sure you’ve budgeted accordingly. Another thing, lest you allow the abundance of white folk, shiny skycrapers and high-speed internet to fool you, CT is still in Africa which means they have a lot of the same problems the rest of us have like crime, corruption and poverty. However, that country you’ll be living in has two unique issues that you must be aware of namely racial tensions and xenophobia. I hate to sound like an alarmist but I believe the people there are still very much conscience of their apartheid past and apparent economic and social inequalities that remain prevalent today. As a female, I must also inform you that gender-based violence is rife, coupled with numerous instances of rape and relatively high HIV/AIDS rates throughout the country.

My tips to you are as follows: firstly, remember you’re on your own so guard your possessions especially your passport and other important documents. Also, CT is often called the city of four seasons which basically means that in one day you can have a 30 degree mid-morning, a chilly and windy afternoon and a rainy night, and the weathermen never seem to get it right so just make sure you plan your movements carefully and dress accordingly. Secondly, get the tourist/foreigner (‘kwere kwere’) mentality out of your head and your body language, embrace the Rainbow Nation! Don’t worry too much about finding out where the other diaspora Kenyans are at, they’ll find you, trust me.. instead try to mix with the locals as much as you can, pick up a few words of isiZulu, isiNdebele, Tswana, even Afrikaans especially the greetings – they really come in handy because people tend to warm up to you more that way than if you just stick to speaking to them in English all the time. You’ll get the hang of it. As far as getting work is concerned, it’s pretty much like any country abroad, you’re a foreigner so you’re at the bottom of the hiring list. Luckily they’re a lot of jobs you can do on campus that are permissible under your student visa and that can earn you sufficient cash to get by. Oh and another thing, you shall get hooked to house music and kwaito so dont even fight it, it will grow on you and you wont get enough of it! You’ll see.. On a personal note, I also found it very useful travelling to other provinces within the country. I know it looks vast on the map but once you start making friends there, you can easily organise trips quite cheaply to and from other cities and towns. It’s the best way to learn a whole lot about what your host country has to offer and its really fun.

All that being said, let me assure you that there is nothing about CT you wont be able to adapt to and I have no doubt that you will find your niche and be successful in all your endeavours down South. As it is often said: “If you can make it in Nai, you can make it anywhere.”
Word!

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Now playing: Skwatta Kamp – ‘Eskhaleni’