To all the women in my life.
You are appreciated.
Like most of you, I’ve also hit the ground running in this new year. The blind optimism and feeling of newness of yesteryears has been replaced with a sober realisation that a new year is not a new lease on life and resolutions can be as empty as the white spaces they were written on if they’re not backed up with a solid plan of action and concrete steps forward.
This year for me is all about more and more paper. I get my first year’s practicing certificate from LSK anytime now, then there’s that masters graduation, meanwhile there’s the job ladder to climb and looking out for more legal side-hustles.
The paper chase has begun.
“You aint gotta get the frame, ma/ I know you get the picture…”
As the stress starts to pile, I rely on music more and more to help me escape and just clear my thoughts or inception better ones. My guilty pleasure track for this week has been this “Marvin’s Room” jawn.
It’s so damn mushy yet I find myself bumping it even when I’m not in a mushy mood. Ofcourse its very relatable to my life right now but I wish that Drake had come up with a different title. Marvin’s Room? What the hell is that? That light-skinned guy in Finland who wants to push the borders of your friendship by making not-so-subtle advances and saying things like “touch me, please, touch me”?
I wish my mind had a delete button, you know, for random information like that..
Anyways, last week of June. And what a month its been!
See you in July.
If we were living in those medieval times when most families each had a family crest, those three little french words would be engraved on ours.
Indeed, it’s been a long ride. Just three of us. Here, there, everywhere and now we’re home. Together under one roof. We’re a tripod or rather a three-legged stool, to put it in African terms. Today the youngest of us turned a quarter century old which not only made the rest of us feel terribly old lol but it also made us pause to give thanks for despite the ups and downs of life, we’ve always had each other to lean on and I hope our closeness continues.
I wish him well always and godspeed as he continues his endless pursuit for success and happiness.
It feels like the month of May Day literally blew past. This is probably why:
Workwise: I’ve been working with Government since the beginning of the year and it’s gradually gotten more and more demanding, challenging but also more interesting. I was lucky enough to find the one government agency that specialises in the one area of law I’m most passionate about and after I shook off the newbie label and got to handle real matters, it’s been down-hill ever since.
But I’m now at a cross-roads. The plan wasnt to settle here. The plan was to get here, get all what I needed and get out… six months, a year..max! Thereafter, the plan was to move to private practice. The corporate world with its sleek offices, flaboyant wardrobe and mega-shilling clients. Well, it’s not so clear what the plan is anymore. I could spend an entire post telling you all the awesome perks of working in gava i.e. the endless work/training trips both locally and abroad (I’m yet to do the abroad ones but I’m *this* close), the countless meetings/conferences/workshops (these may seem like idle stuff but for me, this is where theory meets practice, lots of sharing of ideas and experiences, brilliant for eager beavers in the field like moi) and ofcourse, the flexibility, as in we have fixed hours, we have clear performance contract targets so how you spend the rest of your time thereafter is entirely up to you… this would be the most ideal environment to pull a work/study thing especially for me who’s dreading that LL.M workload. SO all in all, the only advantage private practice has over gava is the pay. And I know I have a responsibility to my housemate and my bro to chip in financially to the household running costs so.. yeah, its quite the pickle. This one firm is really keen on having me start next month so I have until next week or soon thereafter to make up my damn mind.
Heartwise: My heart is fine, thanks for asking. Okay, I’ll open up. Just a little. My heart’s hiding. It must. And since you asked, here’s why it’s hiding. It’s June. Her birthday is coming up. Dont even know why that matters anymore. I’ve already told my heart to MOVE ON. And we agreed it would but alas. Maybe it has something to do with next month marking a year since the break-up? Who knows. Anyways, my heart has had its share of good moments. Mostly through surges of testostrone and ego-stroked adrenaline. Sometimes all it takes is to strike up a conversation with a stranger and have them say something about your eyes or for a female friend to compliment you on a shirt, or a scent or a blogpost or something and just like that my heart comes out of hiding and smiles. Then quickly goes back in again. I still do not have balance. I still do not have peace.
Healthwise: I’m fine too. Kinda, sorta, maybe. It’s just that I cant remember when was the last time I soaked a teeshirt with sweat or had my lungs feel like they going to burst out of my chest, or felt my muscles burn – that good burn, that-workout-firmening-burn. I dont even know when exercise routine went off the tracks but it has. The only courts I go to these days are the ones where you bow when you walk in and you bow when you leave. I am aware that its only a matter of time before its starts to show and although I get PLENTY of exercise in other ways, I desperately want to go back to my regular basketball routine.
Spiritwise: My spirituality is orphan. It ran away from its Catholic home and has been roaming ever since. Had a major fall-out with the Baha’i community that had taken me under their wing so we’ve both opted for silence. Buut, at work, there’s this lady. She’s almost my mother’s age. I share the office with her and she’s a devout Jehovah’s Witness. Boy oh boy, she is relentless with the whole trying to get me back to christianity. She’s waay more persistent that the mormons who once tried to get me to join their faith. The absolute height was when she came with issues of their magazine “Watch Tower” in FRENCH!! Because she overheard me talking to my bro, and she caught a few french words. Unbelievable. It’s been weird at the office but I’m hoping she’ll give it a rest eventually. Today, she caught me staring at her reading her little prayer book or hymn book or pocket bible and she quickly asked me: “V, do you pray?” “When do you pray, V?” “You do remember how to pray, dont you, V?” Aii, I give up. lol.
I know there’s lots I’ve left out. But it’s a new month, so I’ll try and come back on here and fill in some of the other stuff as time progresses.
In the meantime, if you bump into me walking around Nairobi somewhere headphones and all or cruising along in Rusty (who is bumper-less at the moment.. long story), I hope something positive comes to mind.
“Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”
– 2 Corinthians 6:14
So there you are, half-way through
some Kenchic kuku porno na chips a sumptuous meal with a very attractive looking sister and all through the date the conversation is flowing until the issue of religion comes up. Personally this has always been my Achilles’ heel. I mean it’s hard to control a first impression created by telling someone that you’re sort of in-between faiths, that you’re exploring your spirituality, that you believe in God but you dont want to be necessarily be tied down to any one religion.
Not having a church you go to every Sunday is apparently as criminal as not owning your own set of golf irons and having a club membership locked down somewhere and using expressions like teeing off, putting and hole in one. Yes, I know, I’m going to hell and with my luck I’ll probably be ironing designer shirts for eternity.
So aaaaaaaaanyway, my boy G who upto this point fully identifies with my religion issue, was telling me earlier how he’s had an unfortunate streak of dating saved women. And so, we ended up discussing why saved women insist they would not consider having anything to do with you unless you’re saved. What sort of thing is that? Men are men, saved or not saved and if you think that dating or even marrying a saved man will guarantee you peace and happiness, then by all means, go right ahead. But dont even dare make it seem that I am less of a man or not worthy just because I’m not saved. Men ought to be judged based on their own strengths and weakness, their qualities and flaws and not solely on the basis of who or what they believe in!
That being said, I must admit there is something absolutely to die for in those women with deep religious conviction, and don’t necessarily rub it in your face but you can just tell they’re content in their spirituality and religiosity, waiting for The One whom God has pre-chosen for them. And until that One comes along, they’re happy laying in wait.
Something like this…
I’ve heard a lot of women use the expression “I have one life”. My ex said it once after a bunch of room keys flew out my hands and missed her face by whisker and since then whenever I look at my own mother or hear stories of other women who walked away from abusive situations, that expression pops into my mind.
When I first heard it, I found it a bit self-centred. Are you trying to tell me that your life is more important than mine or that I am wasting your precious time? Then why don’t you and your own life mosey off somewhere else and enjoy your one life with someone else then?!
I guess that was just the masculine socialization talking, not mention to those bloody heated emotions.
But in retrospect I have come to look at things differently. Women by their very nature acknowledge that they look to their men for strength, protection and love and in order to get their men to feel like men, they don’t mind serving them, soothing their pride, stroking their egos and allowing them to be in charge. However men have often abused this privilege and literally go to town on their women and not in a good way. And so it dawned on me that this expression “I have one life” that I keep hearing Kenyan women using or alluding to as SoulSpinster did in her post on Abusive Husbands, actually meant.
Women are basically admitting their emotional vulnerability in the relationship but woe on you if you take her kindness for weakness, she’ll be gone before you know it. Simple as that.
Meanwhile my namesake rapper Joe Budden just released a new song: “Ordinary Love Shit Part 3: Closure” where he basically admits to beating up his exes, losing unborn children because of it, police arrests for assault and battery, restraining orders and other shit like that. The blogosphere and the twittersphere have been ranting and raving about it especially since Mr. Budden has always put out some thought provoking music but his recent revelations have left many distancing himself from the apparent serial woman-beater. I guess its okay for Eminem to do it, besides that white boy talks shit about his own mother so Kim and all those unfortunate women that crossed his path were bound to end up victims of some sort of abuse, right?
Anyways, back to reality, I’ve almost been that guy that wants to grab her by the throat and make her feel how I feel inside (autoerotic asphyxiation intentions aside) and its not something I’m proud of. I guess relationships and marriages have those intense moments but the important thing is always respect… and never bottling things inside to the point of exploding. Communicate, menfolk! Talk to your women. Don’t let things fester inside of you then take it all out on her. If you’re unhappy with something and you think she’s not doing enough about it, just walk out and leave.
Is it the man in the suit
or the suit on the man?
the beat or the emcee
the mic in my hand?
I compete with an emcee
or fight for his stan?
fight to gain sight
make it right, understand?
Emcee or the deejay both Jamaican relay
team be dancing with a stroll light beams
that you make you look slick like a Timberlake scene
could it be the flashing lights that make the dance moves clean?
moon walker, alcohol smooth talker
without the liquor in your system, could you talk her
into giving you her number
would you win?
False courage is the spirit in the gin
Is it the merchandise they say its packagin’?
A wolf in sheep’s clothes she loathes for marketing
I cant compromise the music, no bargainin’
I’m all in aces of spades on my cardigan
the mic, the stage, the lights, the platform
what’s the best part, when you watch eNVy perform
So I ask…
Uh uh uh how can it be?
they screaming like the instrumental for Grammy family
no consequence or influence from the west
I listen to my heartbeat so I model on the best
I confess about winning my type game obsessed
the object is to beat up the beat in a contest
emcees fleeing the scene like its bomb threat
a Sadaam jet, napon lyrics are harm sent
punchlines steady murder your body is blessed
so if the beat stop then its in cardiac arrest
Attack of the heart, I play my part
spit the art exhibited in frames and flamed darts
prohibited to biters and lyrical flow sharks
blow parts from morning to dark we stay sharp
I go go like gadget and go-karts
I’m a franchise player like jordan and walmart
D-D-D-Dropping on your block like tetris
Move crack music hand to hand ambidextrous
i’m reckless leave your spot shine speckless son
punchlines for your soul perplexes
eat emcees first thing like an English breakfast
underground hip hop no strippers no lexxes
no flex for rolex cut the block like fences
F-F-F-focus like I spit through lenses
a man with a gun and I battle you defenceless
blind, deaf and dumb your flow is knocked senseless
real talk, no pretences
after this we do a census: where your mans is?
tap your heels like you’re trying to get to Kansas
shoot ’em city like they pose for cameras
I keep it really gritty like a row of handlers
I do it for the heads, spit lead for the bangers.//