Fear Of the Unknown

First and foremost, mad dedications are sent out to the class of '01. Y'all know yourselves. It was a blast hanging. Strange how so much has changed and yet so much has remained exactly the same. And it is more awesome how far much most of you have achieved.

When I was a kid, I never would have thought that this is the character I would grown up to be. I used to imagine I was a happy long distance truck driver (I think I have mentioned that before!) and I'd have a bundle of dirty, happy kids, a husband who drove a Range Rover and used to fly planes during his free time. That was the life (the one in my head). Now I'm not too sure I like kids....I am slowly warming up and apparently I hear they grow on you-Not in you. I'm also not too sure how much I will warm up to the idea of marriage. Of course I'll have to be asked first to find out how I will react and as for being a long distance truck driver, I am still toying with that idea.

So anyway, yesterday, I told a friend something that threw even me slightly off center. I advice you read the following statement with the same vein it was said- in total and utter shock:

" If he earns enough money and doesn't see the need of me working, I'll just quit. There's no need for both of us to work if it's not necessary. I can just be a housewife"

Me? A housewife? Me, the girl who runs off from the house promptly at 4.45 pm so that I don't have to be tricked into the kitchen. Me, who is grudgingly (ok!my hand was forcefully twisted into it!) working through the long weekend for nothing more than a prayer and a promise of good lunch (Oh! Please Lord, let there be lunch!Amen.). Me, who slowly dies of boredom when I am left doing nothing in the house. Before that moment, I had never ever ever imagined myself as a housewife.

But where 2 or more women gather, there resides the relationship conversation. And since we are at that stage of life where everyone is either getting married or getting pregnant, the conversation eventually led to weddings, marriages and babies. To be or not to be. To submit or to stand your ground forever fight to the bitter end.

If only wedding vows included some phrases

In this day of equality and human rights, the roles of people in the household (both men and women) have become blurry and confused. Children are running their homes with a silver spoon up their immature a*@!s, women are working much, much longer hours (all my friends included-Don't deny it. I know all y'all)and the men have now taken "chips funga and bhajia mentality" to a whole new level. And we wonder why divorce rates are sky rocketing and it's taking everyone eons to get married.

Considering my whole day had been surrounded by marriage talk (We are on a series on marriage in church-I usually avoid these series's but I didn't get the bulletin last week so that I can conveniently avoid it. I was tricked and money was poured and then conveniently misquoted by the media and that is how I consequently ended up going for a relationship series. And early at that!),it got me thinking. Is there something we are eating that is not agreeing with our relationship statuses? We have become so dysfunctional and lost that we seem to have no idea what faithful relationships and happy marriages look like any more. I do not want to end up dysfunctional and lost. I am going to someday be the pillar of some "not too fortunate" household. I will have to be everything to everyone in that house. Confidant, wife, mother, mboch, watchie, gardener and KYM. and still be the freak in bed!!!. Everything that happens within those 4 walls and sometimes out of it will be my sole responsibility. I will have to step out of my Hollywood fantasies and into real life where couples fight and disagree and children slam doors and cry. And still be able to resolve every problem, treat every wound and stroke every ego.

But back to : "To submit or to forever stand my ground and fight to the bitter end"
Rumour has it that Women are the more emotional and stable species. Psychos and stalkers disregarded. We control the power of the mind of all those we interact with. As such, I have a hard time submitting to anyone. What I decide is what goes. With or without support mimi nitaenda where and how I want to go.

However, one of my '01 peeps said something very profound: "Those who are weak and do not know themselves cannot submit!" (I paraphrase from memory).

I have been learning to submit lately. First with the people I see the most and are closest to: My boss and my parents. Nowadays, they know exactly where I am, or at least the general area I am breezing through.(My parents, not my boss) Partly because I need them not to worry and partly because I think God hears all of my mother's prayers;said or unsaid so I am fully protected and safe. It is a small step in the right direction. Being able to share my life with someone else.

I guess my biggest problem with this submission thing is that I am letting someone else define my decisions. Like some sort of parasite that feeds on his food. (And I say that with the most love and consideration I can muster!). I'm letting myself be open and vulnerable to someone else who is just as imperfect as me, if not more. Every plot I want to buy, every investment I need to make, every business idea I think I might venture into, every job I want to quit or apply for. My every major thought has to run through someone else. My every decision has to be discussed and passed like some Act of Parliament. Not so much for a go ahead but so that "we are on the same page".. (Sarcasm not intended!)


My orders shall be cleverly phrased as suggestions

It is a hard pill to swallow, that one.Mostly because I need my decisions made fast, quickly and efficiently. Do I want to submit? No. Do I need to submit? Most probably yes. For his sake, for the kids' sake and for the sake of peaceful, harmonious living relations (in and out of the bedroom!). But I will do it, because I know where my strength lies and because I will know where his weaknesses lie. If my place is to make sure that his weaknesses are not exposed or that I may be there to strengthen them and stroke his ego, then I guess I can eventually learn to maybe, perhaps, put my selfish desires aside for his sake.

His work, his business, his emotions, his well being, his peace of mind, his growth, his strength;it will depend on my ability to submit. On my very conscious decision to put him first. Mind you, as I learnt yesterday, submitting doesn't mean loving myself less....coz hiyo story mimi siwes make! It just mean making space for someone else to thrive. Space for him to love me into submission.

I have nothing against being loved into submission. In fact truth be told, in a couple of days/weeks/months, when I'm ready to love and be loved, I would love nothing more than for a man to treat me so well that all I want to do is grow old washing his toes and ironing his boxers. But truth be told, being a submissive human being is about as scary as that team building thing where intelligent people run across fire chanting. (No pun intended!)

However, should he, after being touched by the devil and being be-witched by very strong Nigerian juju (because that is the only way I can imagine he can do it), become a bastard and do something stupid, I will take every coin out of my secret accounts and bury that man alive into the ground. He will wish that he never even tried. And those threats, I do not make lightly.

In other news, the mountain is finally being faced at the end of the week. Equipment has been gathered, the doctors and quacks have been visited, prayers are still in session by various prayer warriors around the country and the doubting Thomas's and Thomasinas the world over have been summarily dismissed. Wish us luck and safe returns.


Destination :Uhuru Peak Jealous? No?

Merry Christmas Everyone and Many Many Happy Returns!

Going the distance

A very wise man once said:
"If you want to go fast, go alone but if you want to go far, go with others"

I was finally taught how our hood is numbered. The colonial numbering system or British numbering system (It sounds more politically correct). Your house number is given to you according to how far your gate is from the closest main road(or artery-sounds more English!)so if you live in Hse. No. 257, you probably live 257 meters from the main "artery". The guys on the left get the odd numbers and the guys on the right get the even ones. So the guy who lives directly across No. 257 automatically becomes 258. Hence you never see a number 01 because very few people can manage to live 1 meter from the road in our part of the woods. Pretty great and profound knowledge there. Being in a former British stronghold, I get to pick up random facts like that. Some help me, others just waste brain space.

For the longest time, I had forgotten about this small piece of brain waster until I started running and suddenly started noticing this. I was 257m from the next junction. I was exhausted and wanted to teleport myself back to my room and never think of running again.But I knew after that junction the next house would be 110 meaning I'd be 110m from the next junction. and then another almost 155m to home. It felt like a lifetime was left between me and the house. Me and total surrender.

I don't leave in a hood where people are known to walk freely at night so when the sun starts setting, you best be close to the front door. So I tried running faster. My lungs gave up on that story and collapsed. So I decided maybe switching strategies might help my cause. I ran slower and slowly but surely reached the front door and with relief, the shower. The sun hadn't set yet.

Here's the lesson I took out of this: We are all on a journey to somewhere.To opening our business, to being CEO's, to running the global market and even to being renowned terrorists (I don't judge destinies)but when we look at the signs, we feel like we are moving to a destination that is unreachable.

Our first instinct is usually to give up. At least mine usually is and many times I have given up on a lot of things I shouldn't have. But I need to keep moving forward. Pace in any journey is important. It avoids burn out. Run too fast and you will die before you get there and run too slow and well, I guess you will still die before you get there. I get distracted by other people around me and although I know I have picked a good crowd to move forward with, it often feels like I'm moving forward much slower than everyone else. Like I will reach a point and everyone will have left me.(I sometimes run with one of my brothers and never have they left me behind. I run really slow in comparison. But they do take me much further and push me much harder but never once do they leave me behind!) I think that's the kind of faith I need to have with the rest of the people who are on my journey. Faith that they will push me on to move further. Faith that will not leave me behind. Faith that no matter what happens when I reach the end I will not be alone. But I have to always remember, there are always people who will get there first.

In this numbering system in the hood, pan style="font-style:italic;">every single road starts with a new measuring stick so if I make a turn, I start again from scratch. And you start from one again. Occasionally, I turn into the lane/ road from the back (The hood has the misfortune of not having dead ends) so I start counting from the back and I have to run back to the beginning. It's sometimes the longer route from the back but the destination is very much the same...No, not home...but the shower! And knowing my destination is very important or else I'd end up running in aimless circles. I know I haven't lived long enough to make many wrong turns into the back routes but I'm bracing myself for the future. That wrong turns won't make me stop trying to hit my final end game. I have a feeling with my ability to embrace depression (everyone has a secret power,depression is mine) , it will be harder to take than most but I am hoping that I will take it in stride.

Darkness tends to fall alot when I'm on the road by myself. I don't need to remind the faithful readers how the dark scares me but for you new bees....Darkness creeps me the hell out. Since I'm into all sorts of dark and dull colours, my running gear comes in dark blues, greys and blacks. The only colour I have on are the sneakers on my feet and my brilliantly sweaty complexion. (If you want to take up running in the dark, I suggest the brighter the clothes, the better.) But here's the profound lesson in all this: Darkness will fall. Many times. But if you know the direction. Or at least you have made a calculated guess and you have hit a consistent comfortable pace and you have the right support system and you are wearing the right brightly coloured clothes, there should never be a reason to worry. Because whatever happens, you know you have everything you need to make sure you get to where you need.

I think my biggest issue is usually the finish line. I am terrible at ending and goodbyes. Happy or otherwise. For some reason they scare me. If I never used to need to go home, I'd probably crash a few meters from the gate and declare mad surrender. It's my sad reality. I'm hoping that won't happen when it comes to reaching my goals. Hence the reason why it is really important for me to have people to drag me by the hairs to the end. Constructive critisisers (is that even a word!! My blog thinks not!).

Anyway, I guess this running thing has become more than just about exercising my abs and back. It has become a way to re-arrange my thoughts and to release the pressure. I still mildly dislike it but its growing on me slowly but surely and though it feels like I'm not getting any fitter physically, I am getting fitter psychologically. Which is way more than I expected.

The week that was....

If you can’t read the fine print on the sign it goes something like this:
This blog is not funny. It is actually somewhere between pathetic and lame. However it is very long. If you are not used to reading for days at a time, it is highly suggested that you quit while the day is still young and you can still salvage your day and go do important things. It is also not a pity party, it is just a statement of facts as they happened and as I perceived them. I will say at this point, should anyone be offended, it was not my intention.

Now that, that is out of the way…I can start on my ranting and raving. Do you know what I did on my birthday? I spent the day running around getting my insurance done and dealing with bankers. I must have walked a few kms between Purshortum (where my bankers sit on their high leather seats) and Chartis (where my insurers sit on their higher and more leathery seats). The two buildings are right next to each other. At some point I wanted to pass on notes through the fence. I then had dinner with my “twin”, got cake that was seriously solicited for over twitter and then spent another hour at a parking lot somewhere in upperhill discussing mileage and tyre treads.

Anyway, after falling into some serious depression last Monday, I decided life is too short for me to wait a whole year to not celebrate my birthday for the umpteenth time. So here is how I spent my “happy be-lated birthday” week.

Monday: Run, baby, Run…
I was having a terrible day. Probably because I hadn’t slept well or because everyone was shouting at me for reasons I couldn’t pin point. So when I got home, my only intention was to wear my sneakers and run off into the darkness and hopefully disappear. I did run into the darkness but hard as I tried I didn’t disappear. Someone has to cover my bills after all so I really had to return plus my nephew was more or less alone at home. And I love the little hopper. Something had to change that week or I was going to burst something serious.

This is how I looked after a few minutes

Tuesday: #Paragasha…
That is how I found about the event... on twitter. After tossing and turning all of Monday night, I needed to get tired enough on Tuesday to fall into a deep sleep. I was feeling deprived of rest and consequently of joy and productivity. So off I went.
Where: Club Soundd
When: Last Tuesday of the month
Verdict: Awesome.
My favourite number (and yes, I said number and not song!) was a song done by Afrology Band…Never give up. It was this fusion of Rock and neo-soul. Totally up my ally and totally blew me away. As for Antoneosoul (the host and main-ish act of the night)……he was all heart, soul and voice. In fact I think that boy is all lungs. At some point I contemplated kidnapping him and making him my singing slave. If only we lived in the days of slavery, nakedness and hard labour….A girl can dream.

Photo courtesy of Mutua Matheka

Wednesday: Back it up, back it up, back it up….
There is a danger to being deprived of sleep. Being the third day in a row, something was bound to happen. Now put a female driver, a reverse gear and lack of sleep and what do you get? An accident about to happen. And an accident did. I backed up right into my boss’ wife’s green Benz. I may have insinuated that the car looked very much like the vegetation. I don’t think he believed me but he didn’t charge me for the very visible dent. He however did suggest I go see a shrink to find out what is disturbing me. Really dude? Do I look more disturbed than normal? Definitely a cause for worry or maybe just a cause for humour. Bundled with the fact that the ATM’s were not working and I only had 120/=, Kidum would have to wait for another Wednesday.

Something I should include in my first aid kit


Thursday: Bend over what???
My sleep was still erratic. So uptown Thursday it was. I put just enough fuel to get me to Westi. I am a cheapskate Kenyan after all. I cannot remember the last time I was in a club. Let the 21 year old me unleash itself and unleash it did. Now I remember why I don’t do shots after eating. In fact why I never do shots at all. Before, after or during any meal. My brother refused to leave the club once the reggae got on. All Nyeri people like reggae….It is a profile he is very proud of. Leave alone the fact that he barely looks or speaks anything like a Nyerian anymore. Maybe its his way of showing people he truly is from the mt. side. That was a fun night right there. One for the records. There was however this groping little man who for some reason kept asking me “Are you fine?”. I wanted to run to a mirror and check if there was something wrong with my face. He’s my friend’s friend so I will not say bad things about him at this point. I will however think them.

Friday: While I was sleeping…
My body finally gave in. I crushed. I got into the office, sent any important mail and then put on Harry Porter. My relationship with Harry Porter has been anything if not bumpy. I have tried many many times but many many times I have slept. I figured this time would be no different. I pulled chairs together, found a comfortable position and slept like a child. My project was approved while I was asleep though. Yaaaa! Win for me! I went home and crushed til 9 in the morning. Sigh of relief anyone! Considering all smells and tastes made me feel like I was in a dumpsite, I did not wake up for lunch or supper.


Saturday: Only the government plans that far ahead…
It was meant to be one of those days. You know the ones I’m talking about. Shorts, t-shirt and a short productive stint outdoors. It was productive until I ended up at Choma Boma with a crowd of people I did not know. I was only passing by for my flash disk, then I got invited for meat. (Only foolish people refuse meat). One thing led to another and soon we were dancing to Nigerian music and high fiving with particularly old men. Moving on swiftly to Rafikis, I met the most disturbing individual. I think he thought the best way to chips me was by telling me his friend was gay and was apparently in court for rape. That man should really work on his pick up lines. He did compare me to his mother at one point and made very crude comments on my legs. I was very close to breaking a bottle over his head.

Sunday: Baba God – o
That was one of the last songs I heard before I ran home to bed. Barely made church Sunday morning. I like our church so I try to make it as often as I can and I really like God, so I don’t like disappointing Him. (The irony of the week is not lost on me!). Hopper and his slightly hang-overed father tagged along. The day was terribly hot. In doors was the only way to beat this day. Beef fry and a lot of movies later, it was time for TPF4. I have only watched it twice before. In fact I just found out that it was the last episode showing...from my father. The only more distressing thing than their voices were their back-up dancers. Davis won. I had never heard him sing and I think I was in the kitchen making tea when he sung his final song. Hmm! He must be good at something.
I think he's the one on the right. I don't know who the one on the left is.

I’m not sure how I feel about this week and how it went. It was definitely a lot of fun but I don’t think I’ll be remembering it as how I turned the year. I think I like how the real on went down better. With no fuss, having a good meal with friends and eating Pina Collada cake discussing my donut wheel. And anyway, my best friend did wake me up with a text early in the morning, I got another during the day from someone who I thought had totally forgotten my existence and a final one from someone who just made it before midnight. It's the simple things, right? At least they were no groping little men and shameful drunks daring me to kiss them for 5 minutes…..(really dude, next time I see you I will stab you in the balls just for existing!)

One request however to my friends. Do not ask me how my birthday was. If you weren’t there, don’t assume anyone else was. Because everyone else was asking me the same question assuming everyone else was there.

On an unrelated note: In my many sleepless nights I watched a lot of movies and things. This is an extract from Cashmere Mafia that I liked. (cue in Lucy Liu's voice!)
Dear Modern Man,
You know what this modern woman wants for breakfast. Maybe oatmeal. Bacon and eggs if she’s craving protein. Definitely coffee. But relax, I’m not going to have you for breakfast. So please don’t be such a wimp about women at work. It’s high time to accept that a woman might not just be your co-worker, she could be your boss and you’re going to have to be prepared to deal….to be a man about it in the true sense of the word. Sure more working women means more competition but instead of being threatened by it, you should be challenged by it. Let’s bring out the best in each other. Win or lose, if you’re a good sport everybody wins. But until you get your head around this, you’ll be on your road and I’ll be on mine. I hope at some point we meet in the middle.
Cheer,
The modern woman.