Of rats and inappropriate name-calling

I knew it would be a weird day as soon as I woke up. Mondays are not usually good days but I’m getting over that lately. Sometimes they suck more than usual but mostly they have become quite bearable.

So after getting stuck in the worst traffic I’ve been in quite a while, I managed to enter a government office and was out in a record three and a half minutes. I know hard to believe it can take such a short time to renew my licence that expired more than two weeks ago but that I’ve been driving with all the same.

So I got to the office twenty minutes late though no one seemed to notice. I settled down and started crunching the numbers when out of the corner of my eye I catch a movement at the door to the bathroom. Now on any other day I would tell myself that I’m seeing my own things but I know I’m not. This is the little rat in residence at our office and since this is not our first encounter, I simply lift my legs lest the little bugger feels the need to run over them all the while keeping an eye on my discarded shoes which would be a cosy place to hide from the big bad world.

Sadly the next I saw of our poor guest was when his little body came sliding across the ceramic-tiled floor, DEAD at my feet! Benjamin took it upon himself to put the office out of its misery by sending the poor rat to its maker. Needless to say I was a prisoner at my desk coz there was no way I was going around it to encounter the dead rat.

It is while I was imprisoned at my desk that what’s-his-face decides he wants to get my attention and I guess since he can’t remember my name decides what the hell,

What’s-his-face: Mami?
Me: silence!
What’s-his-face: Mami?
Me: silence!
What’s-his-face: Disco?
Me: Yes?
What’s-his-face: why weren’t you answering?
Me: to what?
What’s-his-face: I called you mami kwani you’re not a daddy’s girl?
Me: (with very VERY puzzled look upon my face) huh?
What’s-his-face: even your uncles don’t call you mami?
Me: No!
What’s-his-face: no one?
Me: No I come from a family where we endeavour to use each other’s names. Is that all?
What’s-his-face: can I borrow a pen?
Me: (quite fed up I hand over the pen)

Whirl wind conversation taking place in my head:

What the hell is wrong with this chap? How is it that you think that if maybe every male member of my family calls me mami then you automatically have a free pass? You have got to be kidding me and this is a NO KIDDING ZONE!!!!! Also this is the same moron who keeps asking about my sister, who once worked for the company I work for, despite the fact that he is married
Fortunately now my life is now rid of rats of all species.

Will the good guys please stand up?

I’ve finally figured out the big mystery. Not nearly soon enough but then better late than never, right?

Anyway, women are always complaining that there are no good guys out there. The truth of the matter is that there are more than enough good guys out there.

I will admit that I have only recently left the school of thought that argued that all good men are either taken (married/engaged/in relationships), gay or your friends. It is a good speech to feed yourself when you try to figure out what’s wrong with you or what are you doing wrong. Console yourselves ladies that there is in fact nothing wrong with you, well...not really anyway.

The truth is that where guys are concerned women are divided into two categories: potential wife material and fun-times girls. So...which one describes you then?
If you’re wife material then I sympathise with you because then you and I are in the same boat.

You are the ones who guys can have intelligent conversations with about sold out markets, the ICC, pirates and the price of oil.

You are also the one he is more than willing to take to a company dinner, office cocktail or networking fete.

You make plans for coffee and lunch, dinner and a movie; drinks at the quiet lounge with the piped music and the well picked out mingle at his house.

He cooks for you and does the dishes, even when you cook for him and insists on helping you if you really must do them yourself.

He calls you almost regularly, remembers your birthday and you can talk all day via email or chat about nothing in particular.

He knows exactly what you drink and how you like it and even gone as far as to order for you before you even get there. He’s an almost perfect gentleman.

He makes sure you get home safe and calls the following day to thank you for the good company, make sure you’re ok or just to say hi.

He talks about family and kids and his mum with you. He’s comfortable with you, maybe even a little bit vulnerable.

He makes references to what a good wife and mother you’ll make and may even sometimes how you would make him a good wife but always in jest.

You’ve never had sex even though you came close that one time when he said he wanted to take it slow.

He’s not ready to settle down yet and with you that’s what he wants so he doesn’t want to “mess it up!”

If on the other hand you are a fun-times girl, then I also empathise. You are the exact opposite of the wifey.

You never know what the plan is until you get the call. Each conversation begins the same way: “Where are you? Si you come to ________ (insert name of bar/house party location here).

The only time he calls you in advance is to find out if you down for the weekend getaway. It’s never a party without you after all.

You never do anything together, just the two of you, or in day light for that matter, except that regular visit to the bar or to a house party. Oh and don’t forget to bring your hot girlfriends!

He never remembers your birthday and if he does, it’s just because it’s yet another excuse to get plastered.

You hardly know a thing about his family or his job except for where he generally works but you know each and every one of his watering holes and of course his drinking pals.
Whenever you talk about settling down or getting married he, and his pals, burst into laughter at the mere thought.

He’s always telling you how much he likes you but always keeps his distance when you’re in public. NO PDA! His rules.

He’s just not ready to be in a relationship but he keeps making reference to “her” and how she would make a good girlfriend/wife.

He never does the dishes when your around and even has the nerve to ask you to “make us something, since you’re up” and you were just going to the bathroom or to get a drink of water.

The long and short of it is that good guys are out having such a good time living life, what with a good job/career with even better prospects and a considerable disposable income, that settling down is the last thing on his mind. What he has done it put down a blue print of what he sees as his future thus saving him the trouble of having to do it later but that IS for later.

So the next time you meet a guy and you’re not sure where you stand with him, look at how he treats you and you’ll know exactly what he thinks of you. Whichever way you fall it’s up to you to decide if that’s where you want to be.

If you’re not happy about it then I guess you’ll have to do something about it, won’t you? If you’re sitting at home wondering then what’s wrong with you and where all the good guys are? Then they are having a good time hoping you’ll stick around and wait for them to be done having a good time. If you’re sitting at the bar wondering why he doesn’t see you the way you see him then I hope this helps you figure that out. Just remember that it’s not going to be you he picks when he’s done having a good time. His blue print is safe at home away from all potential ruin waiting for him to be done having a good time.

I am no fun-times girl but I don’t plan on sitting home wondering if and when he’ll be done having a good time. What do you say ladies, lets live a little!

Lists Part II

I really like:

1. The fact that i’m edging closer to achieving my dream
2. My family.
3. A guy, he doesn’t know! And if he does...he is goo-ood!
4. That i can do almost anything with my hair and get away with it because it still looks good...and its mine!
5. Real hair.
6. My hair
7. Lilies.
8. Cooking fun stuff.
9. Making fun stuff
10. Intelligent conversation with intelligent people.
11. That i have friends i can count on to tell me the truth when i really don’t need to hear it.
12. The rain even when i’m in it
13. Guys.
14. Girls who think i’m hot.
15. That i finally have booty. What...? i was a late bloomer!
16. Good wine.
17. Good food.
18. Good sex.
19. Being single.
20. That there are so many things to like in these trying times.

Lists!

Not one to be left out i have done my list of things that i don't like. It was rather hard to limit it to 20 but i tried. Enjoy:

I really don’t like:

1. People who waste my time.
2. Weaves! (ladies independ yourselves.)
3. Bad weaves.
4. Really bad weaves.
5. People who shave their eyebrows (do you not know what they were put there for?).
6. People who then draw their eyebrows.
7. People who draw really outrageous eyebrows.
8. Traffic.
9. Traffic that doesn’t even bother moving.
10. The heat in Nairobi these days.
11. Politics anymore (sucks to be a political scientist right now)
12. Being broke which seems to be happening a lot lately.
13. The state of roads in the country.
14. How boring my job can be sometimes.
15. Bad nail art
16. Braids that have seen better days, weeks, months.
17. That our neighbourhood is being overrun by monkeys, REAL monkeys.
18. That said monkeys have been eying my blossoming banana that’s just about ready for harvest.
19. Bad sex.
20. That there are so many things not to like.

The Singing Armies of Africa.

I had an interesting experience on my way to work this morning. The traffic was almost at my door step but lucky for me it was moving. I got in line behind these new army trucks whuch when your alongside it its tire is taller that your salon car and on principle I keep my distance from such.
The radio was on abit loud but I was aware of an even louder noise coming from outside the car so I turned the radio down and openned the window abit and that's when i heard it. The obnoxiously loud singing that was coming from said army truck.
I don't know where they were going or what for but i have never seen ANY men look so utterly happy with themselves, especially not the red berets. They are well known for their harshness.
They was singing traditional songs that sounded alot like the kind you hear at drama fests (The Kenya National Drama/Music Festival) but then there were these two in partucilar who were really getting into in.
One had tied a lesso around his bum and a frilly scarf around his head that gave him that form-one-boy-female-dancer look while the other was obviously playing the male dancer. These guys were so engrossed in there dance they were pulling all the moves.
At some point the "chic" was on his knees saluting the "guy" all the while singing his solo. Then back on his feet they both burst into some vigorous dancing while the rest of the group joined in.
These guys entertained me for the super slow 1.5 KMs I was behind them on Mbagathi way that I almost they were on a truck bursting a move like they were at the finals.
What ever their destination, I wished them all the best and hurried along to work.
I have often observed that no matter the situation, the ability to find joy, solace, comfort or pride in song and dance is a common denominator in many if not all armed forces in Africa not common in other parts of the world.




P.S
Thank you to all who responded to Mary's problem. I think she made the right decision. As to what that decision was only she can tell you. Perhaps she will.
You are much appreciated!

The big Dilemma!

The following is a post I have written on behalf of someone lets call her Mary. What started off as a random conversation got me thinking and after that i thought maybe I should solicit others for help coz while I could have said a lot...I ended up saying very little. I'm practicing the art of holding my tongue. here is Mary's story:

...I am in a really good relationship right now and I'm happy...well most of the time at least. everything was going fine for a few months until my ex...hmmmmm yummy John popped back into my life. you see, John and I never really broke up. He got this job in another city and moved. It all happened so fast I was still reeling from it all when I met Chris. he was so patient with me in the end he won me over. Thing is Chris is probably on of the best lover's I've ever had.Boy knows exactly what he's doing. Unfortunately while John and I were together we never actually got around to getting intimate...well not THAT intimate anyway.Somehow it just never happened, don't get me wrong it's not because we didn't want it to, I guess the time was just never right.We had both been sexually active before we met but it was almost like we were waiting for the right time to make it really special. Unfortunately the universe had other plans for us. Which brings us to my big dilemma.

John decided to randomly visit his family for a while and called me up since he was here. I remember getting that warm feeling you get when you unexpectedly meet or see a friend you haven't seen in a while, it was almost as if hearing his voice reminded me he was alive out there somewhere and doing ok. We chatted for abit and agreed to meet up sometime. It proved to be difficult but then by a stroke of luck we ended up at the same party. You know how it is...someone somewhere is having a party and you end up going coz there wasn't much else you were doing anyway then shock on you when you bump into someone you know there and then the party really begins.

So there I was having a good time when I got a text. It was him! He wanted to know how I managed to look sooooo good despite the dreary weather outside.(it'd been raining cats and dogs for hours). I looked up to find him watching me. That's when all my problems begun. He looked sooooo good I actually wet my panties. We met half way and threw our arms around each other with out saying much and just held on to each other. We talked and laughed for most of the night. His boys were not impressed and neither was my girl who had invited me for the party in the first place.

Eventually it was time to go home and my girl was hearing none of it. As soon as I made sure she had a ride home, he walked me to my car. It had stopped raining but it was freezing. We talked for abit until we both start to shiver then I stepped to him and hugged him. I went to pull away and his grip oh-so-slightly tightened. I froze and looked up at him. I knew I should have stepped back but I lost myself in the desire he let me see in his eyes. I recognised that look. I'd seen it many times before. He leaned in and I gasped! Was I actually going to do this? What about Chris?

He stopped and looked me in the eye then his gaze dropped to my lips. Almost automatically I licked them and he swore out loud before asking "should I?" I was frozen in that moment. Torn between my past and my present, between a raging flood of desire for something I wanted but couldn't have and the guilt of knowing what this could do.

He started to pull away and I panicked. I didn't know if I was ever going to see him again or ever get this chance again so this time I leaned in and pressed myself right up against him. He didn't need further encouragement. He tool my lips with a fierceness I had never experienced with him before and I was lost.

Before I knew it I was plastered against the side of the car and held in place by the weight of his body. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was vaguely aware of a cold wetness running from the nape of my neck to the backs of my thighs but all it did was make the situation more erotic after a while when we both came up for air, we said our good byes and he walked back towards the house. I got into my car, on rather shaky feet and with a wet backside, took a dozen or so deep breaths before my heart stopped racing and my ears stopped ringing enough for me to drive myself home.

Later, he called me to make sure I'd gotten home ok and told me he was sorry for the way things were and he hoped we could talk about it so we agreed to meet up for lunch the following day. It was during that lunch that he dropped the bomb. He hated the way things were. That there was this thing we had but yet couldn't have. He was worried that I was getting less than I deserved. HA! I couldnt help but laugh. He wanted to be with me but there was this distance, it was everything. I wasn't planning on leaving my life and he wasn't planning on coming back until he had established something for himself so we were a quagmire.

I appreciated his concerned and readily pointed out that I had not complained about anything, not that I didn't see any thing wrong, there was plenty wrong with the situation. But the bottom line was that right there in that moment, at that table, in our own little world, I wanted him and he wanted me. (Un)fortunately my conscience got the best of me and I told him it wouldn't happen and he understood. After all I had told him about Chris, that he was a good man who deserved better and who knows, in the future if we ever got a chance I wouldn't want him to ever doubt me or my actions and start thinking maybe I might do the same thing to him.

Well...that was then. NOW I'm in a really bad way. The truth of the matter is I'm worried that we may never be presented with this opportunity again and all I want in one chance to be with him. he's made it clear that he understands where I'm coming from but we both know anything can happen. Life is short i know but.......! One chance to explore what I've wanted for years and know for myself if its really as good as I've dreamed about, thought about, fantasized about, hell as good as we've talked about.(we did the phone/chat sex once or twice). I want to know and yet I don't. I am fully aware of what this could do to me and my relationship not just with Chris but also with everyone we know who's rooting for us.

So I ask you what would you do? More specificlly, what do you think i should do?

Disclaimer:

This is a true story just not mine so feel free to eliminate that part from your comments. Mary exists just by another name so that those of you who may know both or one of us don't get any fresh ideas. This post is mostly written by her.

Whose hair is it anyway?

A few weeks ago I was at the salon doing my hair when a very strange conversation happened. Rachael has been doing my hair since I first permed it in standard 8. We’ve gone through the good, the bad and the ugly. The long and the not so long hair.
So someone had asked where nani had disappeared to and before I knew it everyone was looking at me expectantly waiting to hear the explanation. Well she got married and had a baby, that’s where she disappeared to. Then the hateration begun.
So apparently Rachael was not at all happy about losing such a well paying client and proceeded to declare that now someone else was reaping the benefits of her hard work. She explained that she had in fact laid the foundation, nurtured the hair to health, only for it to be taken away by this ungrateful client.
Before I knew it I had been sucked into a vortex I had not anticipated. Rachael proceeded to ask me why I don’t go to her to retouch my hair anymore. I explained that I had changed from a regular perm to a texturizer which at the time I made the change; she was both unwilling and unable to do. This she vehemently denied saying that now she was NOW both willing and able to it so can I bring back the service to which I said, no thanks. Why? Because I’m good where I am. Geoffrey is doing good things to my hair so unless and until something changes in our arrangement. I’m staying put.
But Rachael was not taking no for an answer. It was come back or else...! Or else what? She’ll cut and/or damage my hair? Jaribu! Go right ahead!
So after I realised she was not going to take no for an answer I told her I’d think about it and then we’ll see. Needless to say that ain't happening. Especially because my scalp has become so sensitive these days and Rachael and her pals never listen to any instructions you give them then when things go wrong, they proceed to put the blame squarely on you.
Besides the little nuts have increased their prices sooooo much that now it’s just a chore to go do my hair there. I get it done for half or less the price only 2 bus rides away and since I now only do my hair on Sundays, it costs me just Ksh. 40 for that bus ride that costs Ksh. 60 any other day and I still mage to save. The reason, they claimed, was because of the increased electricity costs so I asked what does the razor/tweezers they use to do my eye brows have to do with electricity?...silence...!
So instead of spending Ksh. 300 on a dry set, I take my two buses/mats and spend Ksh. 150 the cost of which totals Ksh. 190. I end up saving Ksh. 110 every week.
My monthly pedicure that used to cost me Ksh. 600 now costs Ksh. 400.
It makes you wonder where kina Wanja, who now does my sets, get their electricity coz it doesn’t seem like they are getting it from the same KPLC/ KenGen, which they are.

So Rachael is just going to have make do with those suckers who’re not onto their thuggish tendencies. My hard earned money is going to the salon that is good to my pocket and that has the good sense to SHARE the increased cost of doing business with me, the customer, rather than just passing it on to me directly. After all if we argue that you should stick with the hair dresser you started off with then Wanja wins that one. She started doing my hair when I was all of 6-7 years old.