It is also very important for me to point out that this couple is under the age of 23. Probably a college guy with mom’s car taking his girlfriend out to lunch on the Thursday right before Easter so he has absolutely no fuel costs.

I was walking behind this couple on the street behind World Business Centre-the blue building on Tom Mboya St next to Bata opposite Latema Rd. So anyway, this only struck me when they got inside the Kenchic that is at the end of that road connecting Tom Mboya Street with Moi Avenue. I am not a stalker first of all I don’t follow random people around town just because… I was just led into a train of thought by the activities of this couple for the five or so minutes I was walking behind them.

I probably need to begin with the fact that, as my best friend likes to put it, I am a high class girl living in the wrong side of town. I would rather be at the Teaspot paying Ksh. 100 for my fries when I can only spend Ksh. 100 on my lunch than go to a Kenchic and have fries and a chicken sausage which will cost me the same Ksh 100. And I happen to have internal reviews of the places I would like to be caught in and the ones I would not like to be heaved in if I fainted right outside and the only reason I am inside the joint is because I am unconscious.

That said I can now continue to the math I had to do in the minutes before I got into a matatu snickering to myself about the matter. I can safely admit that I have walked into a Kenchic in the recent past and I think that the price tag on a proper meal for a date is likely above Ksh. 230 for a portion of fries, soda and a quarter chickens. For two people that would be Ksh. 460 so the guy must at least have 500 to pay for lunch.

Ksh. 500 plus the money that would be incurred on parking and the fact that he wouldn’t be driving without at least Ksh. 200 considering how cops in this town harass people on the road, for a teenage boy to take a girl out for a reasonably nice date he needs a basic Ksh. 1000 or at least Ksh. 800. And with that much the happy couple will have to contend with a Kenchic, the equivalent of a ‘kalocal’ in my very wrong side of town books. But honestly, with the high chairs and counters Kenchic is just a ‘kalocal’ to me.

I am so glad I am me because I would not be caught dead on a date in a Kenchic. That is a serious fact. Kenchic is the place I walk into at wee hours of the night when I am likely to bump into everybody getting their meal for the night after a few hours out on the town on a Friday night. They are too drunk to remember where it is that they saw me. Plus, at that hour it is absolutely acceptable to be caught in a Kenchic because nothing else, except probably the pub we were in, is open. I hate pub food because the fries taste like chicken and the chicken is so hard it is practically impossible to know what it tastes like. At that hour a Kenchic is the best meal in town.

I have however discovered a pub I can eat at. So now I embark on the task of disabusing the young boys and girls from thinking that Kenchic is their only choice. I happen to have had drinks with a bunch of people that I met on a social network. We call our tweet- ups #mauwano. Last time we met up, we went to KPs. That joint on Utalii House at the extreme end of the CBD. I had two of the most sumptuous burgers of my life. They had done their meat just right and nothing changed even when I made the order for second one. And get this, the burger costs Ksh 100. I also had a fantastic plate of fries that I would only compare to a plate I had on my son’s second birthday with my two best friends from high school. Fries set the guy paying a mere Ksh. 80. How is that for a shocker? Next to my several bottles of cold black ice, the great company and the good music from the boom box, I am convinced that guys in Nairobi take us to Kenchic where we can’t even have a descent conversation and are constantly nauseated by the smell of fries and deep fried chicken just because they have their priorities all wrong.

When you take a girl out do you do it for the conversation and the time spent together or do you do it to make a lasting impression? If you knew which question of the two you will answer first then I believe we can salvage you yet. If you do not, it s no matter just be contended with the fact that at a Kenchic all you get is the time spent together because conversations will be next to impossible. At KPs if your poison is alcohol or at the Teaspot on Chai House if you’re a tea or coffee guy (note that one may be more expensive than the other one) you get to one, make an impression, two, get to have a conversation and three, get to enjoy the time spent together.

If you boys know your priorities and know that picking me up is not important at all, then you know that the Ksh 150 spent on parking could have been put to better use at a joint where you would make a lasting impression.

I know that I haven’t exactly put down a list of how you need to prioritize but if you’re smart you can do it all on your own.

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Four straight days of absolutely no plan is a nightmare. No Ifs Buts or maybes about it. If you start it off on the wrong foot, you’ll spend the whole four days stuck in the same plan. Just the mere thought of it is murderous.

Take this for example, if you start out with a serious binge on Thursday evening, you will be stuck with half your budget or less and a hang over to keep you grounded the whole weekend. Talk about a holiday mishap.

If you happen to have a boyfriend, you have the option of scaring the sh*t out of the guy and moving into his house uninvited for the whole four days. The best part is if you are really dating a Kenyan guy you won’t really need a change of clothes. He’ll find you his cleanest tee from the pile on the floor and you might end up wearing it for the whole four days if you’re not careful. But woo and behold, for you with a boyfriend at arms length that probably won’t matter. But having just the toothbrush you bought on your way there is a scary thought. No roll on so I will stink of sweat even if I shower three times a day. None of my lotion and I will probably feel guilty about using his as generously as I use mine. Thank heavens I don’t wear any make up but for you who even wears a little blush and powder, imagine how terribly ugly you will feel the whole four days. Nightmares!!

For yet another single girl, the one that still has mommy and her gang rallied up behind her, you might spend it at your mom’s or at whatever holiday function it is that your family has managed to cajole out of the woodworks : weddings, get-together, even funerals. I think not. It also means the extra hard work of having to locate and brush up that part of your brain that speaks my mother tongue for the entire weekend and knowing you’ll be pronouncing every word wrong. This is an even more torturous option.

Have I scared enough of you yet to make you start a kitty for Easter 2011 yet? It could even be just ksh 1000 from this month and you’ll have 12, 000 by next year. That’s quite a bit to keep you busy next year. Trust me!! Its just four days after all.

I have taken the liberty of doing some research on your behalf to find you the perfect way to spend Easter 2011 if mom doesn’t already have you booked. Whether you’ll have a boyfriend at the time or not is no matter. He can join you if he can foot his own bill and most especially if he can foot yours as well.

Number one, one of my friend’s absolute favorite beginnings to Easter: The KCB Safari Rally. Don’t be skeptical. It is a real option my lovelies. Find a couple of your friends. Get a car even if you have to hire it for the day, load up on junk food and alcohol and be on your way to the nearest functional spectator. This year they had to cancel a few due to the heavy rains so be on the lookout for information too.

This could be you wading through the mud. Tell me you can’t think of a way to make this fun when you don’t have to wash your hair by morning. You can put getting your hair done on the Monday itinerary on the budget. It never hurts to get down and dirty. I know I could have worked this. There is usually live loud music and you might be treated to a live performance or two. I dare you to say this doesn’t sound fun. Carry your sunscreen and sunhat for when the sun finally veers out. This could also be fun if you have kids but remember to replace the alcohol with drinks. And skip the formal part, with those government people flagging off the start.

This plan starts on Saturday and may involve a long drive if you like; fuel costs, food costs, and accommodation if you stretch it out to Sunday. This plan is fool proof. Watch movies and do the things you normally do over the weekend on Friday. Go for the rally on Saturday and Sunday. Relax and get your hair and nails done on Monday and be ready for a new week. I like it!!

Option number two, stay in the City and bore yourself to death. Which one do you prefer?

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The average guy finds it very easy to pick a fight over anything even someone stepping on their shoes, and mind you so am I especially if I am not sober. The distinction can be found in the fact that if it is between a guy and a girl, that it was a guy that stepped on the girl and she went ahead to bitch about it before the fight ensued, then the guy will most likely walk away from this weird scenario and never remember it in his life.

I on the other hand will remember the day I bitched at a fully grown man and called him all manner of names and he just walked away. Isn’t that nice? For all intents and purposes I won that, and I will probably do the same thing every time that happens from then on, woe unto you men.

See what I mean about being helpless yet? If you haven’t, pay attention, here it comes. The guy walked away because in his big or maybe small brain (if the fact that women have larger brains than men is anything to go by) he thought that you probably didn’t know what you were saying when you said that you would beat him to a pulp. I mean really even I know for a fact that you cannot beat up a fully grown human person into a pulp, you would need a machine that crushes bones into powder to actually do that, but I digress. What I am on about is that the guy walked away simply because in his mind you can’t even put up a fist right let alone know how hard you need to thrust to throw in a proper punch.

All in all, the fact that we are helpless saves us from a million beat downs by the time that we die.

I am writing about this because of something that happen a couple of weeks ago. You remember that Woolworths cum Nakumatt 25% sale? Well some really dumb guy in a yellow overcoat was masquerading as security at the door when they had to monitor the coming and going of shoppers because they didn’t want a stampede. This guy, some little short thing that is well shorter than me had a big mouth. I was going into the supermarket for one reason, to help someone carry stuff she had bought. I hadn’t even carried a dime, just my phone! And it was one of those days when I was in a work skirt that obviously had no pockets. But this bugger knew he was the genius in this situation. To make how stupid he was go an even extra mile, the chick I was going in to help even came to the door with the myriads of paper bags that she needed help with. As in the shopping was done we just needed to go in and get out through the designated exit for the day coz they had to double check receipts and goods, but this dufus would hear non of it. So I did the only natural thing a helpless chick like me could do, I opened my mouth and told the bugger off the way i know how to do.

“unaringia nani na wewe ata si wa G4S? unadhnai hatuji uniform ya G4S? nini hizi umevaa  pengine ata wewe ni mtu mwenye anatoanga vitu kwa store na leo umepandishwa cheo.” Then I broke into English just to be sure that he went to school and so this insulting would go further. “And you don’t even know what to do with the little power you have been given just to stand at the door”

I probably looked stupid during all of this, but I can tell you two things that make it all worth it for sure. Number one is the most important: that really did make me happy. It made it all the more easy for me to cope with the fact that I had been denied entry into the supermarket. Plus I had a huge following considering that there were several of us trying to do the exact same thing so it ended with a little of what in English they call ululating but what us Kenyans like to refer to as the ‘wapi nduru’ equation. Number two, we got the attention of a supervisor and we were soon thereafter let into the supermarket.

I won that fight no doubt and I will probably remember it for as long as I will live but the dufus probably doesn’t even have enough storage capacity to do the same thing even if he wanted to remember the day a small kid like me mad him look like a super fool.

I love being helpless!!! I can rob a bank maybe and get away with it, I think am going to try that one and tell you about it next week.

Have a lovely week my people.

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Let’s hear it for the boy,
Let’s give the boy a hand,
Let’s hear it for my baby,
You know you gotta understand”

Deniece Wiliams- Let’s Hear it For the Boy Columbia Records (1984)

I write this for all the good men in THIS COUNTRY. There have been quite a few in my life but as always the good boys never finish first . They never even got more than a thank you. I write this for all of you that go unnoticed. The man that opens a door for his lady and always lets her walk in front of him not because he is checking her out, but because he wants to have her in his view at all times for his piece of mind.

My source of inspiration this week is a blog post I read FOR SHE WHO COUNTS. Click here to read the post.

And so I begin

The stereotype Kenyan man we all know is the one that swears he has a right to at least one stable woman in his life and an occasional side dish just to keep things interesting. He thinks that it is his duty to save the gorgeous poor girl from the office from her life and get sexual favors in return (yes we know that that whole knight in shinning armour skit is a play to get laid). And worse still he thinks that his woman is only supposed to have him while he goes on to cannodle with everything in a skirt that sways past his eyes.

That is not the man that we are interested in but it doesn’t hurt to say that this is what we know.

Sometimes having grown up in this country, it looks like the Kenyan man is so many grades lower than what other women in the world have to endure, but we have to give them points for the four or five things that they can do right.

The average Kenyan man has very little to say about anything that goes beyond sex and football. I am not saying all of you fit into this mould but most of you do. But sometimes it’s so great not to have to hold a conversation with someone because you had such a bad day. For this one boys, standing ovation when you know I don’t want to talk; that I would rather just get a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

Sometime I wonder if people around the world have as much fun with the languages that they speak because English has never been as hot as Kiswahili is for me. We have to hand it to the Kenyan guy for his line dropping skills. They don’t bother about sweeping you off your feet, just something stupid enough to make you laugh so at least you turn back. Boys for this one I let the girls tell you how it makes a bad day better than it seemed.

The average Kenyan guy can roast you meat on the small jiko and make it taste like you went to heaven. And he didn’t even bother with marinating or if he did it is even better. They can’t cook anything beyond boiling water or frying an egg but when he gets his apron out for that roast… damn!! How come it never tastes like that when I make it? Boys, this is one of my favorite things y’all can do.

Let’s not forget their basic assumption that Kenyan women can’t drive. The government issues the driver’s license hun and I got one same us you, but it is always great to know that when we go out I can get plastered coz you automatically assumes I’ll give you the keys.

If I wrote a long list, I might make you think that we are glad to have you. We are lucky but not too much. Have a lovely week!

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It has come to my recent attention though that all my dreams have drastically changed. I no longer want to be a lawyer in a power suit, in front of a judge making my submissions. I no longer want to become the next Oyunga Pala! Now I just want to want to be happy!! I want the easiest route out of this existence. No hassles for me! I am way too tired of this rat race even before I get into it.

The new dream is to work in the NGO world especially because of dress down Friday! (I know that’s stupid but you have no idea how much I miss my jeans and I have only been dressing formally for a week) I can’t do that if I end up being the court going sort of lawyer. I don’t want power suits to be part of my wardrobe except for those one time interviews. I want to be simple and stylish. Suits are way too much work!

I remember at one time I had sworn that I would never be an unpaid volunteer. I would always demand allowances or throw my hands at the opportunity and search for a more generous employer. Like we say in Kiswahili- Kaa Nayo!. That was then!! The dream has been altered severely since then. I am as I write this an unpaid intern.

Like every other little girl in the world, I must have dreamt about a grand wedding with the humungous white dress and a bevy of bride’s maids. I honestly don’t remember that dream but I must have had it right? Anyway, the fact is that dream is no more. My standards as far as that is concerned is a quickie at the Attorney General’s Office and a huge cake in my freezer that I can eat for three months.

Remember how we would think boys were disgusting when we were young? That’s the more interesting of this change thing. I am always on the look out for gorgeous looking men. Whether it is an unconscious thing or not, a day never ends without my eyes going over a gorgeous ass (my all time favorite) or just I nicely built man. I like this one the most I must say.

Change is constant they tell us. Change was Obama’s campaign tool. Yes We Can! Change was the reason we all voted President Kibaki into power the first time around, because KANU we would have no more. Change is everywhere. It’s not just about you, it’s the whole world!

We must embrace change. We must be capable of building ourselves a new every time it is necessary for us to do so. Change is the only thing that defies Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection: it is not the best that survive, it is those that can cope with the new world that do!

I am a different person now as compared to the daddy’s little girl that some of you might have met even a few years ago. My priorities have been built a new. It’s not ME ME ME ME anymore. Now it is Ammon (my son), ME and then Ammon some more before ME comes again.

Change is constant. Change we must!! Change is the only way forward.

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The most interesting part however as it turns out is for me was on sexual violence. Maybe am a little weird for liking the discourse but it speaks to me. It really all makes sense now.

Violence against women comes in many forms: physical, verbal and psychological. We have all seen it in our lives and we probably all experience it everyday without even knowing it sometimes. Thanks to the articles I have been forced to read for the exam I have come to understand myself as a woman in ways I probably wouldn’t have. Take this one example for instance; I found an excerpt that speaks of perceived attractiveness as a form of inequality just as much as rape and battery are. Isn’t that just sad? That because we all want to look like a certain kind of woman and we go through thick and thin to achieve that look we are just as bad as someone who has been raped. That was truly eye opening for me.

But the part I found most interesting of all was this excerpt on rape:
Just to get through another day, women must spend an incredible amount of time, life and energy, cowed, fearful and colonized trying to figure out how not to be next on the list. Learning by osmosis what men want in a woman and trying to give it to them, woman hope that being the wanted image will alter their odds. Paying attention to every detail of every incident of a woman’s violation they can get their hands on, women attempt not to be her. The problem is, combining even a few circumstances, descriptions, conditions and details of a sexual abuse reveals that no woman has a chance. To be about to be raped is to be gendered female in the process of going about life as usual. Some things do increase the odds, like being black. One cannot live one’s life attempting not to be a Black woman. As Black women well know, one cannot save it that way either.

Do you see it how I see it now? We all know someone or at least heard of someone who has been raped, especially in the family scenario by relatives they trusted with their lives. Even after it happens to you, you still think somehow it was your fault, that you must have done something wrong… it turns out that we all did. We are victims because of something that we had no choice in: being born FEMALE.

I am still not a feminist even after reading all of that but one thing is for sure, now I know why I have a reflex action, why when you hear someone was raped at a certain hour on some street, you make a point of avoiding it without even thinking twice about the matter.

Being a woman is definitely not the easiest of things to be. We are victims just because we were born like this, and if we are ever raped, the guy that raped one of us still had a blast and most often than not he got away with it.

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The purpose of that story when she told it was to stop me from insisting that I should wash my son everyday when he was a few days old. The plan was, and she even bought coconut oil for that purpose, to wipe him with oil; whichever kind could be found. Ammon was a very quiet lad when he was small, so he would quietly lie still and enjoy the massage mom proceeded to give him. Soon it became a daily ritual right before the little sap went to sleep for the last time of the day.

As is the case with lazy people like myself, I got used to that particular way of doing things. The ‘tush’ would get wet wipes with every diaper change, and the rest of him would be lathered up in cooking coconut oil or olive oil by mom at the end of the day. If we have kept a record of all the times Ammon has had in his life thus far therefore, they would probably not get past 100.

I had decided to do things a little differently, when he started school. I had planned to wash him every morning before he got into his uniform, but if you ever saw the two of us together, you would know who makes the rules: Ammon. I only managed to wash him the first week, which by the way was from Wednesday. It is true that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks especially when the dog makes all the rules.

Now the new plan is to wash the little man only on Sunday’s, before we go out if we do, or right before he sleeps if we don’t.
But all in all, Ammon is a clean little boy! He’s graduated from coconut and olive oil to my lotion and a hot bath cloth for his face and his tiny ‘tush’.

This morning while I waved him goodbye after dropping him off at school, I couldn’t help but feel proud of the man he will be when he is all grown up. He will shower everyday coz by then he will know how. He will brush his own shoes, a task which I do myself every morning before I wake him up. He will brush his tiny teeth all by himself. He will tie his own shoe laces.
I can’t begin to describe how the thought of that makes me feel. My little man all grown up, doing his own thing in the morning before he goes to school.

Yes I know I didn’t let him grow into an adult just yet but limited him to when he still goes to school. Which parent in their right mind wants to get to that step that fast? I am not going to be the first!

While my little man grows everyday, learning new things as he will inevitably do, I hope all of you grow somewhat from my words.

Till next week my good people.

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Anyway, it has recently come to my attention that we don’t all watch cartoons for the same reason. Some people just think they are funny. Some people get life experience from them (like me) and some people just see the colorful pictures (like Ammon-my son by the way).

Back to me then, I really listen to everything that’s said in a cartoon. Really!! I can narrate just about 80% of every word in all the episodes of ‘Dexter’s laboratory’¹. I know who Juniper Lee² is and worse her little brother’s name (see footnote)³. And the one that freaked out the boys, I know Bloo’s⁴ full name. You thought it was just Bloo? Sorry it’s not “Blooregard Q. Kazoo”. If we had this conversation with you before, I checked the spelling. My research skills are dope- thanks to law school.

Because I know Bloo’s full name I have been labeled or rather have now eventually labeled myself a freak- cartoon freak that is. I love them. Utado⁵?

So back to what I had planned to write about, 3D movies. For the last few months animation movies are no longer being made how they used to be, well at least not in Hollywood. They’re being made in 3D⁶ Google® that if you don’t know what I mean. I was watching the making of Toy Story and Toy Story 2 this morning. It glued me to my seat. Toy Story One is in the usual cartoon mode we are all used to i.e. 1D and then when two begins, they’re walking out of a metal detector looking like thing that converts them into 3D. That looked so cool to my geeky mind, I, just for one minute, wished I was a cartoon so I could be converted into 3D.

If you doubted that I was a geek of sorts, there I just shot every reason that had kept me in the normal side right there.

I would do this like a school paper and do definitions for you but poleni⁷ you can do it for yourself if you like.

The thought going through my head that one minute I was wishing I was a cartoon; this is what went through my head. I would never buy clothes or shoes, even if I was in one of those teen-type in the mall cartoons because the artist draws mine on. There would be no such thing as clothes that don’t fit because they’re drawn on. There would also be no such thing as a bad hair day. Wouldn’t it all be so cool? I think I will do it again. Just for one minute more … I wish I was a cartoon.

Then the part where I get converted into 3D, I would twirl around and around just so I can be seen all around. Maybe I would even talk to the artist about seeing to that tiny tush of mine. “Make it more realistic”, I would say. “I am not Japanese!”

It would be so great being a cartoon. But, the world is so cruel, you get born a human, you stay one.

Until next week my good people. My one minute is up⁸

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I didn’t say anything to anyone, well except my siblings. I didn’t say how long I would stay except to my closest friends. I just left.

That is actually why I haven’t written in a long while. I couldn’t. I didn’t have my trust cyber café up the street that I sit at with a packet of yogurt and write.

I had plans all the way up to the end of Christmas but for some reason; they didn’t seem to be what I needed. They required money, they required a designated drive if we all went drinking. They needed me to think, to strategize. Something I was not too willing to do at that time.

So I just left.

I didn’t go some place fun. I didn’t go to some place I would have room service or in the least my favorites French fries, my daily necessity before. I went to my aunt’s. Mama mdogo we say in Swahili. My mother’s sister. One of the last links to my mother we have left.

My son had been staying there for a few months so I was killing two birds with one stone.

In my aunt’s house, there is no junk food. It is not allowed on a daily basis, just the one off times when people like me visit and carry loads of it.

I had thought of buying a lot of junk and having it eaten a little every day at least for a week but I didn’t.

When I got there, I was bored out of my mind for a few days. I picked up my phone and became a twitterholic. Twitter is my new social networking buddy. I am getting a husband out of it I promise you. There are so many nice people I get to talk to. (Ooh my favorite song of almost all time is playing Still by Tamia I couldn’t leave that one out)

So anyway, I didn’t eat junk because I was too lazy to go to the shops which actually weren’t that far away. Instead I bought a lot of credit to tweet. I talked a lot with a specified number of people. Seeing as these are people you might never meet I went all honest.
I told my deepest darkest secrets to total strangers. It was fantastic; a free-well almost free-visit to the psychiatrists chair.

I forgot I was bored soon enough and spent the rest of my two weeks, junk and stress free. It still beats me how I gained so much weight in two weeks. I should see my weigh machine some time soon. Maybe am not underweight anymore

So my trusty funs, I took a time out for two weeks which I have extended into the New Year because my son was to start school. I will blog about that soon. So if you’ve missed me, I love you too.

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And that isn’t even the half of it. We are physically being man handled everyday and we just seem to be taking it all in one stride. I am for women empowerment any day don’t get me wrong, but there are just times when you need to treat a lady like a lady. It just seems however that they are not willing to so here are a few tips to be your own man when the situation calls for it.

Put up a fight
Never go down without a fight! It doesn’t need to be a physical one, just be a wise ass. Talk down at him. Make him seem stupid to your audience. There is nothing as demeaning to a guy as being insulted by a woman in the presence of others. Blame it on the African upbringing, but then again white guys don’t like it either.

In the physical scenario, I can’t even put up a fist how it is supposed to be so I am not saying punch him. There is an alternative: heels- a woman’s best weapon. I love heels to death; they look great even on a shelf let alone on a lovely foot like mine!! But they’re just not meant to sit and look pretty.

Once, some guy was trying to rob my purse in a matatu. He had covered his hand with a newspaper while he rummaged through the contents of my bag. Lucky for him I caught him in the act. Am not all that strong but that day I got a man by his collar and held him still while I took off one of my heels. I put quite a dent in his robber face for all time. I have never been in a fight before in my life. It was so exhilarating!!

CAUTION: To succeed with this one, make sure you’re not alone. And make sure you make it known why beating the guy with your shoe. And make sure you use all the bad words in your vocabulary for effect. There is no other opportunity as rosy as this to get away with it.

Learn to do Stuff yourself
You don’t have to know the name of all the screw driver’s to do stuff. Learn how to replace light bulbs, how to squash a bug without feeling all itchy and how to fix your tyre when you get a flat on the road.

It either that or be prepared to spend a whole week in darkness till a guy comes to visit and you can ask them to replace your bulb. You’ll be held hostage by an eight legged creature in your own home. You’ll be stuck on the road to someone comes to save you…the possibilities are endless.

Men don’t rush to your rescue anymore. They take their sweet time before they come and save you. If you want it done and done now: you have to learn to do it yourself.

Be a man
I am not talking sex change, just be a man when the situation calls for it. Hide your feelings when showing them seems weak. Spit as far as the rest of them can if ever there was such a stupid thing to be done. Eat as much as them if you’re hanging out with them … Just be a man when that’s what you need to be to get through the day!

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I admit, the words could get to you, if you’re twelve and you don’t know anything about what the world is about. A poet like me could appreciate them too I suppose…but am not that blind. There must be meaning in my poetry, life experience so to speak. Write what I know is the one motto I follow to this day.

From the beginning of time, well at least after the first family (Eve, Adam and their twin sons), it is a well known fact that marriages were about money. Your clan could only betroth you to someone who brought something to the family, be it money or a good name. So who the hell was this bugger pretending to be self righteous enough to come up with those words? My only other conclusion could be that he was a big fat liar. That poor girl being lied to!! I feel sorry for her when I think of it.

My sister came up with this theory, if you marry a Kikuyu woman; at least you know what the terms of the contract will be to the end. She will never leave you of her own volition unless you go broke. The sort of broke that makes it impossible for her to keep up with the lifestyle she was used to while you had buck. It doesn’t matter that she came from nothing herself.

With a Kikuyu woman there won’t be any of that breaking a man’s spirit down that we hear so very often on morning radio of women making their men wash the house with a duster. She will just up and leave you. No stories! No lies! Sweetie you’re a broke ass- I have got to leave your ass honesty!

The funny part about her however, she will get married to the guy next door, or at least have an affair with him. Literally!! That guy you play golf with, the one you down your tuskers with at the local. Yeah that one!! He wouldn’t be rolling with you if he didn’t have as much money as you. It’s a fact. It’s only rational that’s where she will start from.

I am a Kikuyu mind you. And as much as this trashes me, I think it might be a good thing!! I am not keeping up with no broke man for nothing. I have a lifestyle to live up to, kids to take care of. If I have enough money to go it alone, what am I doing paying for your alcohol? Imagine me opening my handbag in the morning to give you some cash to fuel your car. It’s preposterous!! If I were you I would rather walk everywhere I go.

I saw this in a movie once, a couple was having dinner at a restaurant and the guy wanted to pay with a credit card. All his cards were rejected! So he asks his date to get the bill this one time. He was actually a really rich guy mind you. His accounts had just been frozen for some reason I won’t get into. The moment he utters those words, the chick started to laugh. Then she said, “Seriously! You want me to pay for dinner?” She just took her bag and walked out laughing.

It‘s brutal and would be funny if you’re watching it in real life. But ladies take a note of this, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU SHOULD DO IF IT WERE YOU. Not in that same scenario, you’re bright people you know what I mean.

The second part of my sister’s theory is that other women from other tribes, especially when they’re not Bantus. They lie to you from day one. You have no idea how she will react when you suddenly go broke. Maybe she will run off with the kids. Maybe she will make you wash the house with an old t-shirt. Maybe she will kill you! Maybe she will humiliate you in front of all your friends…There are so many possibilities.

As a kikuyu woman, I have this to end with …for richer or for poorer…isn’t ever going to come out of my mouth when I marry anyone. We will probably have to write our own vows if the priest doesn’t let me sever that part from the vows. That’s just how I see it.

My boyfriend said something to me a while back, its something to the effect- “Sweetie, if you ever cheat on me, let it not be with college boys! I would feel insulted that you had sex with someone who gives you nothing but a toss in the hay. If you ever do let it be someone who by rank is above me. Otherwise I will break his neck.” I live by his words. They keep me quite honest. The only person I can cheat on him with in effect is probably just the president himself! No, he is not an MP!! He is someone way above them in the diplomatic world.

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It’s perplexing how life just goes on despite your pain. You can’t leave the house without making sure you’re dressed to the tee as always. People you walk past in the street have smiles on their faces and there is nothing you can do to whack them off their faces. The birds still chirp, there is still mad traffic. The people at government offices still come to work without their brains and ask you all manner of stupid questions and create complications you never thought possible. The sun still comes up. The radio still plays your favourite song and your reaction to it remains the same: whoop that’s my jam!…

Word spreads like wildfire and before you know it all your ‘friends’ call you, send you emails and send you text messages. Even people you haven’t spoken to in years. Apparently it is the African spirit to be there for each other when one person is in turmoil. They call it ‘harambee’. It doesn’t matter that you are in the least bit bothered to answer you phone when it rings or to check your emails. They just come in the numbers trying to be helpful, and not listening when you say your fine.

You only realize later after all the drama has subsided a bit that yes life goes on, even your own. You will still be expected to go to school and attend class and worse still use your brain long enough to do exams. If you have a job, you still have to go back to work. Your bills are still due and have to be paid before you find yourself with no utilities or interest debts on your loans.
You also realize that had you been left alone to your own devices without the myriad of phone calls and house calls you would have probably lost your mind. That’s why people don’t listen. That’s why they call and visit and help out as much as they possibly can. You can only appreciate the lack of breathing space because at that point you were too busy not to wallow in your pain. But you also realize that they, your friends and family have their own lives to get back to.

They leave and you suddenly notice the big gap. You’re no longer busy fielding calls and emails, receiving guests at your house; you’re alone in your pain. Suddenly you start seeing all the things that belonged to the deceased lying everywhere around the house. Painful remainders that he/she is never coming back.

Death is quite funny. Funny weird!! You can never get used to how things become after a loved one passes on to their next life.

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If you and I were buddies, you would know that up until now I have never cared much about my appearance. In fact a girl friend of mine once had to point out that I had worn the same pair of jeans Monday through Friday just to get a rise out of me so I wouldn’t do it again. I haven’t stopped. That sort of thing really doesn’t matter at all. Really! So its been a really big weekend of self discovery for me when I found out that I do care about my appearance. Well at least this all started with a Louis Vuitton bag. It’s well worth it that I came in with style.

One of the things I have happened to discover is that I often stare at guys from behind to get a peek at the Tommy Hilfiger boxers showing at the top of their jeans or whatever else is being sported at the same time. It doesn’t matter that the stuff is fake! I notice and I form an opinion of the poor sap from the look of his boxers. You all do it don’t deny it. The only difference between me and you is the fact that I have confessed that I do. But note this however; I would never date a guy whose boxers the whole world gets to see along with me. I like the idea that am the only one that gets to see you naked or at least in your boxers so if everyone else sees them too am afraid I won’t want you!

I also noticed that whenever am getting dressed in the morning, I change into at least three outfits before I settle on the one that works the best for me for the day. My brother even says that people like me should have a uniform for everyone’s sake like how Dexter from Dexter’s lab has a wardrobe full of the same outfit he wears everyday.

I have also noticed that I ‘hate’ on chicks on the streets just like they hate on me. You know, the staring every chick who you think is dressed better than you and making a mental note of what she is wearing and planning to get the same for yourself. I hadn’t noticed that I did that until now.

With this new set of information I can stop acting like a geek, dressing like one and the whole long list of things that I do that make me seem geeky. I am girly, I have always been. I have more pink in my wardrobe than I care to admit and I hadn’t even noticed it before. I knew I had brain and almost always people expect me to thrill them with my brilliance. Now I realize I an wow too! Even if people notice my bag more than me, I can get attention. It’s like the theory about rich men getting beautiful chicks no matter how ugly they are. It’s not all about my body. I can have beauty and brain too. It just all depends on how many more pradas and vuittons I have to collect.

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In law when we learn a new rule, we learn all its core principles, its history: the reason why it came to be in the first place. Then we are taught the exceptions, the different circumstances where it has to be ignored for the greatest good.

I have applied this theory to my woes with men. The rule is this: men and women are always going to be different. You can use the Mars-Venus theory if you like but that is just how it is. They will never be able to understand us and we will never be able to understand them. It’s just wise to quit trying. That is rule. Take it as it is.

The history of the rule is that God made woman from and for man. We are even made from different ingredients. Bet you never concluded that before huh? Even if He did eventually use mud to mould woman He used one thing more than he did creating man. That may be the cause of the difference between us or it may not but it’s a fact. Take that as it is too.

There are always going to exceptions: the chick who just acts like a guy, the chick who is a guy inside (biology-wise), the guy who acts like a chick… I could keep going if they hadn’t already stopped rolling in my mind.

And now to my three wisdom truths, the reasons why I should stop trying to rub them out of my life because it’s pointless anyway. It’s a very short list but its very convincing nonetheless.

1. They are always going to be there.
Let’s face it. This planet was built for both of us. There is no more right by one gender to claim that earth belongs to them more than it does to the other so no one is going to get to kick the other out. Even with a court order no one is going to budge.

2. We are always going to be different
I have said it and just incase you didn’t get it…we were made from different ingredients. Unless somehow they were created a fresh from the rib of a man or we are moulded from mud like them, that’s how it’s always going to be.

We have to get with the program on this one thing.

3. We are always going to need them
I have a little boy and brother that I dearly love and very many times they get me out of a tough spot I couldn’t get out of by myself so I need them.

It doesn’t matter if its just to get your aerial put up or your drainage fixed you must admit it too…we can’t live without at least one man in our lives. And that’s the truth!

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Its been said that the power of suggestion is so great that in a classroom situation a student knowing a right answer can say the wrong one just because they heard someone else say it. In life it happens too. Remember your friend who told you that a certain guy that you both know has always had a thing for you? Then for some reason you started noticing him a lot and seeing all the good traits that he had that you had never noticed before? That’s the power of suggestion.

Human nature is inclined to self preservation. If an opportunity presents itself that makes you believe even to the slightest extent that heading in that direction would save you time or even some embarrassment, you will most likely head in that direction.

But enough about the facts lets see how this can be of use to you in real life.

I recently met someone who by the power of suggestion made a totally different person in less than a month. I have always been slow to trust and even slower to fall in love because of my past. I had learnt to tread carefully, be cautious and whatever else you might call it. But with him the tables were turned. He treated me like such a queen. Spoiled me rotten in fact and the important fact told me he loved me at least 10 times a day. I counted once in fact. It didn’t matter how he did it he just always did. When he was in a meeting he’d send me a text that just says I love you and nothing more. In the morning when I woke up there was almost always a text he sent while I was asleep saying I love you. When we spent time together he would say I love you a million times too. So I finally began to accept it and stopped fighting him. He loved me. That was just how it was. So I began to like him even more. Knowing that I was the apple of his eye just made me the more radiant. I felt his love and soon enough I was ready to say it back. The power of suggestion…it does work.

If it works for something so complex, something all of us agree needs a lot more than caution, imagine what it could do for you if you just tried to use it for yourself.

Make it work for you. It’s like I chant. “Honey, I need a new car” every morning is annoying I agree. But how about “honey you always take good care of me” a million times before you say the one “honey I need a new car”. Think about it. If it were you would you buckle if that’s how your partner worked getting you to buy them a new car?

Just try it! That’s all I can say.

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