A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A MUTHENYA........................

Of rats and inappropriate name-calling

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 08:53:00 +0000

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?

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 12:38:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 08:14:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 11:54:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 12:48:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 11:17:00 +0000

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?

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 09:01:00 +0000

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.

Pruductivity=NIL

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 13:26:00 +0000

You know things are thick when guys in the office congregate around one desk and start chapaing storos. Its hot and circulation in our office is an amazing 2.3%. So by 11:00AM the system slowly starts to shut down.

Was it not for the goody-two-shoes I swear we'd have left work at 3:00PM like the boss did! Sucks to be us.

Now to perfect the act of looking busy while you're bored out of your brain!

Not so hot Hot Properties!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 05:54:00 +0000

There is a new show on KBC called “Hot Properties”. Unfortunately, I am not entirely sure what the aim of this show is exactly despite its obvious name.

The show’s host Barbara M’Mbaka shows a “client” around two or three furnished houses and apartments in an attempt to rent them out to his company’s senior management. However in the twenty or so minutes that I watched this show, at no time did Miss M’Mbaka tell us, the audience, anything about what went into creating those houses and since I assume that Hot Properties is supposed to be our own kind of House and Home I am sad to say that it fell very, VERY short of its objective.

The show is sponsored by a local paint company yet at no time did she tell us which paints went into the painting the rooms or even the rationale behind the colour scheme.

Since these were furnished houses you would think that she would have the wisdom to tell us where we can get the exact same or similar furniture be it the local supermarket (now super store) or furniture store, etc.

As we are quite stuck in this tile-obsessed phase, I would have expected her to tell us which tiles were used and where we could find them.

There were carpets and rugs in the rooms that were not once mentioned or even referred to, the same went for the numerous paintings and mirrors that adorned the walls.

The only information that was forthcoming was that “the house is NICE”, “the colours are NICE”, the furniture is NICE”, and “the bathroom is NICE and spacious” etc.

So short of knowing that the house had so many bedrooms and bathrooms, the only thing we discovered was that they were all NICE!

You don’t have to be an interior designer or OD on House and Home, etc to know that the point of a show, ANY show is to give people as much information as possible about not just how they can acquire what you are selling but also how they can get it done themselves.

The hostess herself was sight to behold and I don’t mean that NICEly. She was dressed in a print skirt suite made from local material that was lovely save for the fact that she looked like she was about ready to burst out of it. It was soooo tight and inappropriate especially since she was swinging herself like a cat that had found the milk. She was ill informed and unprofessional to say the least. Then to crown it all off her weave had taken on a life of its own and was rearranging itself as it pleased throughout the show.

I believe that with just a bit of help Hot Properties can become a really good show. If only it was done professionally, all it takes is a little hard work. Do some research, be creative, and sell the product. Sell the show like you would sell anything else. Approach more than just one paint company and create some healthy competition. Bring in furniture stores, carpet emporiums, tile shops, fixture specialists, interior design companies, the works and you’ll be amazed at how big this show can get.

This is a niche show that has not been done by anyone else so substandard in not an option. As soon as another station picks it up, KBC can say good bye to that one for sure.

With all that potential, it’s dumbfounding how anyone can go so wrong!

Peep-WHO???!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 12:56:00 +0000

I’ve had it. I can’t take it anymore. I thought I could ignore it but I can’t. It’s too much and now they’re everywhere. They absolutely suck!

Like with many other fads that hit this heavily influenced country of ours we are eye-ball deep in the peep toe one. Don’t get me wrong, some fads are palatable and those that aren’t, make for good sport, at least for me and my kind. So in true Bata (Kenya) style they have again taken it upon themselves to create an affordable equivalent of the said peep toe shoe. Unfortunately, like most of their other attempts it has failed miserably and yet not so much.

Correct me if I’m wrong but the essence of the peep toe is for …..the(preferably ‘A’) toe to peep! Right? WRONG!!!!! Our dear pals at Bata have managed to actually create a PEEP-FOOT! Honest I kid you not. Its soooo disturbing it makes me weak.

I get that the actual peep-toe is quite costly. I just recently purchased my first pair (I’m big on shoes not fads) and its working good especially at that cost (maybe I should throw in a photo…ill think about it). Focusing on my point, the Bata alternative is obviously cheaper but is it really?

If the definition of cheap is taken at cost only then it is cheap and/or affordable by all means BUT if the definition of cheap includes also the appearance a shoe gives to the wearer then believe me when I say that that shoe is too costly to be that CHEAP. After all when you have three, sometimes four WHOLE toes “peeping” it ceases to be a peep-TOE (notice that it is singular not plural) and therefore does very little to add value to your outfit.

If you remember how quick we Kenyan ladies are to pick up and run with fads (don’t even get me started on the skinny jeans (pencil as they are called in Nai) and you have a pretty good idea of what I’m talking about. Where two or three are gathered there you will find them, sometimes on all three. So all over Nairobi city, and who knows where else, there are perhaps hundreds or thousands of very well dressed women walking around in the new and improved peep-foot.

Our desire to be “in” with the crowd has completely blinded us and lowered our sense style to nothing. If you can’t afford the peep-toe for the love of yourself, and all who know you, please don’t settle for the peep-foot. The again if you can afford to buy a peep-foot then feel free to save a little longer and buy an actual pair of peep-toes. If you’re reading this and you already own a pair, tough! you're not beyond help though. The whole point of struggling to save and buy a pair of sexy shoes is so that you can wear them knowing that not only do you look really hot, everyone else knows it too.

So ladies, LIBERATE yourselves. If your going to be a slave of fashion you might as well do it with a bang and not halfway. Don’t give anyone a reason to laugh at you; rest assure we ARE laughing. try this for size, its what I do when I’m dressing in the morning, on most days anyway, ask yourself this: “ if I saw me walking on the street what would I think?”

It really pisses me off when you see a mama walking in the street looking guilty as hell REASON: you can see she just knows she looks silly/bad. She has this pleading look in her eye that says ‘please don’t judge me!’. But how can we not? Even YOU know you look bad. Don’t get me wrong I know things are thick and we’re all battling with inflation and high oil prices but you don’t need money to look good, it helps a lot but its not everything. A lot of the really crappy stuff we were is actually what costs a lot.

LESS IS MORE is a good motto to dress by but so is dress for your body type. A lot of the things we hear being said on Oprah or Tyra or whoever is actually solid advise. We all can’t wear the same stuff 'tis not possible. Pick someone you know who’s dress sense appeals to you but who also has the same body type as you and try it out. SLOWLY! You’ll be amazed by the outcome.
Wearing skinny jeans and peep-TOES does not work for all of us. My ass in skinny jeans takes on a life of its own so much so I’m even afraid to wear them in the presence of my boyfriend. So I stick with the straight and/or boot cut jeans.

So again I urge, ladies can we liberate ourselves from fashion fads, more so the ones that jus make us look utterly stupid? If not rest assured I will endeavor to laugh at your expense but don’t feel bad though, I only laugh at the things you can change!

Eureka!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 06:12:00 +0000

I stumled upon this blog as I was reading the latest Mimi Magazine, which I recommend to the ladies (www.mimimagazine.com, a magazine for african women enjoy), feel free to check it out and see that we all seem to suffer the same bull while we are out there 'in the world'.

www.stuffafricanpeoplehate.com

its very entertaining.

Women and the eternal quest for beauty!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 08:24:00 +0000

I was sitting at home flipping channels when I happened upon a documentary on Al Jazeera tv. It was about the practice of Gavage in Mauritania. Gavage basically means force-feeding. While the world at large strives to make women ever so thin, Mauritania has other ideas. The tradition of force feeding women and girls to make them fat thus beautiful is as old as the desert itself. Featured were two little girls who, sitting in a shed made of Mabati and fenced in with wire mesh, were being fed (forcibly) couscous and cow’s milk. These girls eat and eat and eat until they can’t eat any more, they throw up and then they eat some more all in the name of being beautiful. Other foods that girls are generally fed include millet and porridge in very very large quantities every hour or two without fail.

As a result of this practice, many women in Mauritania are overweight/obese and are at risk of heart disease, organ failure, you know the list. Despite these obvious dangers and the government’s efforts to discourage the practice very many women still practice gavage. In the city and towns where seating and eating all day is not an option, where women have jobs the alternative is drugs to boost appetite, that bloat the body or help retain water. However many of these, now banned drugs are cheap imports from India, China, etc sold right under the noses of the authorities have, as expeted, not so good effects. Women, especially those who are uneducated and/or from poor back grounds, even resort to taking drugs that are meant for animals. Even those meant for camels!!! A doctor interviewed said that they had dealt with many women who had liver failure, among other medical issues, because the drugs they took were meant for animals. The package even has the picture of goats, cows and camels.

When the father of the two girls was interviewed, he said that he was force-feeding his wife(s) and daughters because “it is a sign that your wife is well cared for and the neighbours won’t think you are poor”. It seems having a thin wife in Mauritania is in fact an admission of poverty.
Fortunately, the practice is slowly dying out and the percentage number of women and girls who are being force-fed has fallen more than 20% in the last 2-4 years especially in the metropolitan areas this however is not the case in areas further away from town and more so in the desert. There is no law that bans gavage, only laws that against practices that may harm children though there are government initiatives to educate people in the dangers of gavage.

Many women have become aware of the dangers and are taking steps to lower their weight as well as taking the decision not to force-feed their daughters. Women are seen walking regularly and some steer clear of the milk and millet that got them there in the first place.

It’s good to know that there are places especially on the continent that still appreciate the African female figure however not at the cost of the lives of these women. There are countries where a big behind is considered beautiful but again women feel it is necessary to put their lives at risk by taking and injecting drugs that are said to increase bottom size. Perhaps we should stop trying to become things that we are not and stick to what we truly are. Let’s maintain our health and leave the rest to Mother Nature and the powers that be. If you have it, flaunt it, if you don’t, flaunt it anyway. Are you really ready to risk your life to be someone else’s idea of perfection? Why don’t you look in the mirror and and say “Self, you are one hot mama!” and leave it at that. After all, the size of your bum won’t change the price of oil now will it?

Bloggerised!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 14:07:00 +0000

It’s amazing how many kindred spirits one can have out there. Total strangers who for whatever reason seem to get you. Hear me out. How many blogs have you read or even just random posts that make you feel like someone literally looked into your heart and put down exactly what they saw. Funny enough it happens to me ALL the time, honest. While it does make me freak out for the first five seconds, it also assures me that I am not, in fact, totally psycho.
I was single for a long time, well kinda because even when I was dating a guy I still felt single. What’s the definition of single anyway? I digress. Most of the time I’d start dating a guy knowing full well that it wasn’t going anywhere, at the time it didn’t seem, really it didn’t. So I’d smile and text and call and physically participate in the dating process while my heart was neatly tucked away in a vault. I was basically numb at the time. I’ve been secretly in love with my pal for eons so my heart was never really mine to give anyway. I'm slowly getting over that though. I gave myself a time-out to make up my mind if I was going to go on living like that.
I’d see people in love and my heart would fall right into my stomach each time. It became such a familiar feeling I even learnt to welcome it. At first I’s see a couple and I would just want to die. My heart would start racing and I was sure people were looking at me sympathetically wondering “when will she get there?” It was horrible. My fear slowly turned into hostility. Subtly bubbling under the surface eating away at me daily. Why did they have to hold hands? PDA should be an offense punishable by death, etc etc. Sounds crazy doesn’t it just remember these were my private thoughts. I was simply jealous.
So I put on my tough face every morning and went into the world carrying all my demons with me. What I was really afraid of and still am is not dating or even being in a relationship, what I’m most afraid of is getting my heart broken. I’ve been there sooooo many times they’ve given me free membership. Once o fall for a guy, the easiest thing he can do without so much as an effort in crush my heart into a pulp. Funny thing is I’m the easiest person to break up with. I won’t ask why. I’ll just ask if you’re sure then I’ll walk away.
I dated a guy once who did everything he could think of just to get a reaction out of me, he’s still waiting. He’d say things like “you know I almost played you jana at the hanye?” so I’d ask “did you?” “NO!” “ok.” Finally when I got fed up with being baited I ended it. Wololo! The guy became tight! Cursed, insulted and yelled till he realized she’s not listening anymore.
So now I’m in this amazing relationship. I call it amazing coz I’m finally in what resembles a mature relationship and hard to believe though it may be, tis my first! First mature relationship that is. Don’t get me wrong there are moments when I doubt, many more still when my madness threatens to rear its ugly head but other than that I’m cool. So now I have become the thing I long resented. I’m the hand holding, kissing in public, gazing at each other lovingly people. Ugh! it’s disgusting and I love it! Ha! No really I catch myself grinning for absolutely no reason. I’ll be driving around or reading a book and suddenly I’m grinning like an idiot. True it’s probably from remembering something or other be it an sms or a twinge in some part of my body that reminds me of the last time we hang out. The other day a guy passed me in the street wearing his scent and I had to stop walking. My knees literally went weak. If I’d been walking fast I swear I’d have fallen flat on my face. That’s when I know I was hooked on the bugger! Basically I’ve become stupid again. Except now I can’t even bitch about other people doing it.
I remember when my sis started dating her boy friend and we’d be bitching about couples around us, the moment she opened her mouth we’d all look at her like she was crazy especially because they are the absolute worst. They literally can’t keep their hands off each other. Now, it’s me. I’m not complaining though, the alternative is not as fun as this.
So instead of cursing out the couples I see, much as I’d like to, I smile and move along swiftly. After all there are enough weaves and badly dressed people out there to keep me busy. I won’t be greedy.

Have a wicked day!!!

Oooooh GROSS!!!!!!!!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 13:22:00 +0000

Some people can be sooooooooooooooooooooo gross! No really I’m serious. I like to listen to the radio when I’m working. So in order to do so without bugging everyone else around me I like to use my earphones. So on this particular day the storos on radio were really hilarious so I was cracking up in my own little world as I went about my business. Suddenly a random dude who’s been threatening to “harass” me (his words) picks up the one earphone (the kind that goes INTO the ear) that is hanging and then….wait for it…STICKS IT IN HIS EAR! Now on most days I have no problem sharing my stuff but I draw the line at sharing things that enter any and all body openings. And then the nut expects me to go on and pot it right back in my ear. I almost passed out! It’s the equivalent of putting your finger in someone else’s nose. No really it is. Don’t think so? Ok imagine what happens when you find earwax on the earphone, as I did, said nut is trying to get you to put back in your ear?
Common sense and basic hygiene all suggest that susha things are not done. If you don’t share your toothbrush or your dildo then why in God’s name would you share your earphones? Then again if you’re the kind of person who does share these things then feel free to ask before you share. Others might not be as generous.
So I went about cleaning my earphone until I stopped feeling like gagging then I put a hex on him hoping to never see him again. Unfortunately we work for the same company so that might be difficult.
Na wanaume ndio wana tabia hiyo sana, not that mama’s are exempt but wamezidi. Nguys, let’s get serious.

Kizungu Ngumu!!!!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 09:27:00 +0000

Najma whoever-she-is, a news reporter on Kiss 100 FM while reporting a story from Gucha said:
“the two women who were suspected witchcrafts were beaten before they were lynched by an angry mob”

Now I know the language came by ship but DEM woman! Kizungu ni ngumu lakini… she has managed to kill it a good one.
I don’t know what the criteria for hiring is at Kiss is but they should probably add proficiency in the English language just to be sure. Is she trained in reporting? Did she study journalism or mass communication? Even as a minor?
If there’s no particular qualification for reporters and presenters on radio, the least Kiss 100 can do is hire people who can speak-a-the-english OR have all new employees take an English proficiency test or refresher class. Its down right embarrassing for a media house to have someone read a news item with such mistakes.
Kiss SAVE YOURSELVES from this one.

Memories...

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 07:42:00 +0000

All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things bright and beautiful
The Lord God made them all

Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings
He made their glowing colours
He made their tiny wings

All………………………………….

The purple headed mountain
The river running by
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky

All…………………………………

The cold wind in the winter
The pleasant summer sun
The ripe fruits in the garden
He made them every one

All……………………………….

The tall trees in the greenwood
The meadows where we play
That rashes by the water
To gather everyday

All……………………………

He gave us eyes to see them
And lips that we might tell
How great is God almighty
Who has made all things well?

All…………………………………

All in a day's work! the Rant.

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 08:49:00 +0000

Its cold, I mean it’s freaking cold either that or I have a serious problem. It’s like every year Nairobi gets colder and colder. And why not? In this day global warming age it only makes sense. So every morning I get up and start my layering regime. I’ve stocked up on stockings, which btw are so freaking hard to get in this here Nairobi. Lets not even discuss gypsy’s or that crap they are selling in exhibitions and the ones in Bata hmmm I’m yet to know which country they has in mind when they were making them. However I have loaded up on them coz they are heavier that the others and none of them has run on me on the first day. I digress. The stockings, the trousers, the vest, the long-sleeved shirt, the sweater, the jacket, the scarf and the very closed shoes. By the time I leave the house I look like an Eskimo going into battle I grab my coffee mug and I’m off. The moment I open the door I feel like I might as well be naked coz the breeze cuts right through the layers and knocks the warm air clean out of my chest, bummer.
I’m sure all ya’ll are shaking your heads like I’m crazy but in my defense that’s why I have not yet ventured too far away from these here tropics. Snow will be the death of me for sure. I remember stepping off the plane in Zurich in the middle of a snow storm temperatures in the -ve degrees on my way to see my sis. I have never seen clothing freeze that fast. My jeans turned to stone and all I could do was burst into laughter. That was where the decision was made-No sun, No education. I ain’t going! I don wanna! You can’t make me! So hate me if you will!
Moving on….I have figured out how to walk across town from where I drop off to the office with minimal exposure to the biting wind a) use all arcades b) stay in the shelter of buildings/cars/bushes/plants/etc c) use other pedestrians as wind breakers J
So I make my way across town and my only stop is the zone where I buy my ndao na samosa mbili-it’s amazing how much I eat in this weather I’ve gone from half a chapo to a ndao to a ndao and a samosa and now two. I only stopped there coz I was too scared (read embarrassed) to ask for another one. Besides I’m having trouble fitting into the nguos now so no more.
With breakfast in hand I make my way the short distance to the office plonk myself into my chair and stuff my face. Now, I can take on angry and irrational customers who want to spend money they don’t have. Customer service is a hard job. Fortunately for me its all on the phone so I can sound like and angel with a horrid look on my face. People don’t seem to understand that we in customer service DO NOT control bank operations so if your check doesn’t go through only accounts can sort you out. Also if the atms are down guess what I can only tell you what the IT guys tell me WE ARE WORKING ON IT!
On the flip side though there are the guys who as so nice and considerate and have high IQs that they use so it’s not all bad.
Then there are the ones who make your day while freaking you out all at the same time. This one guy was having trouble making a payment online and had called kadha times one day, called the next day and the next so on the second day I ask if he was the same guy from jana and he’s rather touched that I remembered and now asks for me specifically when he calls. So after helping him all that I could I wait for him to hang up, not. Then it begins
‘So…. (groan) what’s your name again?”
Me: disco…. (we’ve been through this)
Your so helpful, thank you
Me: you’re welcome, just doing my job.
So you’re in xyz department?
Me: yes…. (that’s what I said when I picked up the phone)
So when I come there I can come see you?
Me: (you’re kidding right?) yeah sure we operate five days a week…. (groan)
So then si you give me your number I call you when I’m coming?
Me: (MEGA GROAN)….hmmm you don’t need to call in advance just come we’ll assist you (my attempt at keeping it business. Let it not be said that I did the encouraging)
Ok then ill see you next week
Me:Okkaaaayyyyy……………. (AHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
‘Click’

All in a day’s work!

I'm hungry again must fight temptation to eat more then again its almost lunch ;-)

Encounters with the Drunk African Male

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 08:24:00 +0000

I had a lot of trouble with my shoulder all weekend. I wondered and considered until finally I remembered, by God I remembered. The beginning: I had attended the wedding of a former workmate purely under duress. On leaving the wedding I was informed that my presence was EXPECTED at the evening party so since I was accompanying my baby I decided to shelf the excuse and suppress the exhaustion for the good of the dude. As unexciting as the party was I stuck it out, for the sake of the chap again and by midnight I was contemplating a quick exit that included a bee-line to my bed. However after a few smiles and the promise of good things to come, I put on a tight-lipped smile and braved another hour. Ooooh how I wish I hadn’t. seemingly fascinated by this chic that their friend had brought to the wedding, his pals made their way one by one to size me up and see if I was worthy of him. One in particular had some mad storos that he felt I should know before the night ended and that my friends is where the torture begun. The end: With every point he made he emphasized by depositing a good slap on my back just below my right shoulder. At first I humored him after all how many points can he possibly make? Bad decision!!!!!!! Needless to say after twenty minutes of PAINFULLY animated conversation, I had had enough, I had lost all feeling in my right arm and shoulder and I was running out of tissues to wipe my face with as he seemed to be spraying more that he was saying so I pried myself away from his presence and made for the door. I was going to be anywhere but where that chap was. After making it very clear I was done for the night, we left.
At one point in between slaps, it was like I had left my body as I was watching it being slapped from across the room. I remembered in that moment that my sister had once been in a similar, albeit slightly different situation-see Proud Nyeuthi’s blog for details on the Encounters with the Afican male (Kenyan edition). The lesson: Prou I apologise for laughing at you then and I hope to God neither of us has to suffer at the hands of these Kenyan men ever again. The bottom line: I am taking a stand against ignorant batterers of women. Fellas, please spare us the grief and the medical expense. Despite what we claim we do actually have delicate dispositions and we do bruise easily, be gentle!

Pthhuuuuuh....You owe!!!!!!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 13:32:00 +0000

The funniest thing about working for a bank, besides that last week of the month before pay day when things are so thick is usually Friday, the week after pay day. After your taxes, standing orders and credit card payments there is only so much left. It’s the week when every one who calls is audibly holding their breath as they request their credit balance. Belts have been tightened so severely that the mere availability of a few hundred shillings better still a few thousand, brings such a sigh of relief that the rush makes people rather chatty. They want you to know exactly what it is they intend to do with their hard earned money-
Client: you know I have a harambee (fundraiser) what was I going to take?
Me: I don’t know? (Read I’m not interested)
Another Client: so I have money (that’s what I said!)now what can I do this week end?
Me: Enjoy? (read I don’t really care)
Etc etc by the middle of Friday afternoon I was so fed up I became amused. It doesn’t matter who you are baller, bum, staff, stranger the reaction is the same.
One guy asked me “why am I suffering so much if I have money?”
I weighed all my response options for a second then decided I didn’t want to get fired so I let it go and asked him “why, indeed?”
The thing is that these people know very well what the state of their account is, they just want the satisfaction of being reminded that- ITS NOT YOUR MONEY SO PAY IT UP or of simply missing the deadline by a whisker.
My only advice, take that credit card at your own risk and remember that the universe is not that kind, she gets pissed off every so often!

Miss a little, Miss a lot.

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Tue, 13 May 2008 11:54:00 +0000

After a busy and exhausting day at the office, I made my way to the bus stop to catch my bus home. After waiting a few minutes, I spotted my bus and made my way to it relieved that I didn’t have to wait too long to get home. I stood at the door of the bus having given way for a woman carrying a baby. From where I stood, she seemed to be having a discussion with the conductor about the destination of the bus as she was vigorously gesturing and pointing. Satisfied with the conductor’s response, she entered the bus and took her seat. I remember she smiled at me and truth be told, I didn’t respond. I had had a long day and I didn’t see what there was to smile about.

I took my seat and lost myself in thoughts of a hot bath, a cap of tea and an early night. I didn’t even read the book I had been carting around for two days, I was that tired. It wasn’t until I was half way home where buses going to their various destinations part that suddenly the bus was filled with noise. Worried that perhaps something was amiss on the road ahead, we all craned our necks to see what was up. The woman with the baby was almost on her feet obviously agitated and violently gesturing, all this directed at said conductor. It took us all a minute to realize that this lady was trying to say something, except she was deaf!

That was when I realized that the gesturing she had been doing at the door of the bus was in fact her way of asking which why the bus was going. The thing about public transport in Nairobi is that buses using the same numbers sometimes ply two different routes and for you to know which way they are going the conductor, while hanging precariously out the door or window, points in the general direction he is going for the passenger to know.
In this case however, when the lady pointed in the general direction of her destination, the conductor either out of ignorance or malice, nodded so she assumed he understood.

On hearing the noise that had engulfed the bus the driver stopped the bus assuming that someone wanted to get off. In a country that is still ethnically polarized after the disputed general election, almost every one on that bus came together in one voice for her and scolded the conductor for his mistake and before long he looked like a little boy who had been caught stealing. The poor lady was so agitated that it took three women to calm her down and somehow explain to her that the conductor would take her back and make sure that she got onto the right bus without charging her again.

I was amazed at how quick we all were to come to her aid and the aid of those who are unable to do so for themselves. It was also a harsh reminder of how unfriendly our society is to those living with challenges. I thought of all those people out there who didn’t have anyone to help them. I thought of how many buildings and establishments are there are out there that are not ‘handicap-friendly’ or those that try to be and do a bad job. Haven’t you ever seen those buildings that have ramps that are so steep you don’t know how anyone in a wheel chair is expected to use it.

In retrospect, I was sick with guilt over how I responded, or really not, to her smile. I realized that that is the only message that she can ever share that anyone anywhere in the world would understand without needing further explanation. And so as my stop neared, I made my way to the front of the bus and before I got off, I looked her in the eye and I smiled at her. The thing is she understood me immediately.

She's come undone!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 07:45:00 +0000

Living a lie is the hardest thing ever to do. I'm loosing the battle with myself. Its getting harder and harder to hide the truth from those around me.I'm slipping and i cant afford to come clean. The consequences of my secret far out weigh the pain of living with it. I am forced to act like I'm ok. I smile and say I'm ok. I hide in my room building up my resolve,making sure i don't slip up when i get out there. I'm running out of places to hide. Everyone wants to know why I'm so quiet, whats going on? not knowing that they are slowly chipping away at my armour!

Truth be told, id give anything to just let it out and damn the consequences, but i have too much to loose, and yet there's so much to be gained from it.

My mum call this "the pain of growing up". Painful is exactly what my life has become!

Daily rant!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 05:44:00 +0000

Imagine my surprise when i read a story in one of our weekly dailies that quoted Mike Tyson as saying he could not come to Kenya because there was "a civil war there". so therefore he decided to go to SA instead. I hope to God that someone was bold enough even with the fear of being punched out or having their ears bitten off to correct him. simply for his ignorance and arrogance he can do us a favour and never bother to visit us. the 'baddest man on the planet' should spare us his moral crap and first fix his life before he dares to judge ours. if Jendayi Frazer, Kofi Annan, Ban Ki Moon and others were not afraid to visit and even stay then Mr. Tyson should be ashamed to cower at the thought of visiting the oh-so-war-torn-country. He is a big,tough,strong man after all. Surely, if a 'mere' woman is not affraid to come to africa, then Mr. Tyson should cease his claim to being the 'baddest' and let stronger, more intelligent people do the visiting.

So if you see Mr. Tyson before i do, tell him i DARE him to come visit this 'strife torn' country!!!!! not holding my breath though.

Monday Mourning!

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 06:02:00 +0000

Dear Life,

are you well this morning?good then that makes it easier for me to rant.perhaps rant is not the right word, maybe rave, scream, and go crazy. well, too bad I'm so damn tired after all, its not everyday that your brother gets shot and is hanging on the brink of death huh?don't worry i wont curse you out or anything like i said, I'm tired.I've never been so scared in my life, my teeth have never clattered so loudly and my body has never shaken so violently, my heart beating right out of my chest.

its a call i never expected, never prepared for, never imagined id get.i searched my records, my files, my archives. i searched everywhere. whats the reaction?the response?what I'm i supposed to say or do?whats the expression i should be wearing?do i smile or let the tears that sting my eyes run?no, i cant cry then i wont be able to see as i drive and already I'm in no state to drive but who will, not them.i cant possible let them drive. didn't you see the look in their eyes. that look that defeated look.that will-i-loose-my-son-today look. the look that neither of us ever practiced or prepared for. i cant cry, i have to be strong for him, for them, for me.

did you see it, that look when i said the words, when they heard but couldn't listen from the roaring in their ears.from searching their minds for a reaction, for an expression, for a word to describe the fear and longing to defy time and space and find themselves at their son's side. so i rush and rush and rush but i must be careful.i must get them there in one piece and yet i must get there quickly. all the while I'm thinking, processing, interpreting; hoping,praying. where?how?when? why wasn't i there?could i have helped?could things have gone differently? what if.....STOP! i say to myself.concentrate on the road ahead,on your speed,on getting there. think past the pain, past the fear, past the deep darkness that threatens to engulf not just you but everything around you also. concentrate.breath.

I'm calm but soon my body starts to rebel against the forced calmness,my teeth start to clatter again and I'm forced to clench my jaw.my heart starts to race again and breathing is getting rapid again.I'm losing it,I'm loosing it oh God don't let this happen i have to get there.i have to see.i have to know.get a grip! this is not the time to let go. you have to stay strong for him,for them,for me.

i can seen the sign, the large neon sign.I'm almost there but i have to keep it together.the silent tension in the car has just increased ten fold.its choking me but i cant stop now.open the window. damn,its already open.i made it. i slow down just long enough to make the turn without skidding and in one swift move I've stopped the car, opened the door and I'm frantically looking.i just want to see him,that's all.where is he? there are so many people but they all have blank faces.I'm looking for one, oh dear i can find it.damn where is he?don't tell me I'm too late.i came as fast as i could. oh God the darkness is coming.i can feel it wrapping its ugly claws around me. my heart is pounding and my ears are ringing. i hear voices but nothing sinks in.I'm loosing it,I'm........there! is see it. the face I'm looking for.in the light of the car i see him.his eyes are closed but his brow is creased, that's a good sign right?RIGHT? get it together, get it together. someone is holding me.pulling me back.i allow them because now my mind has stopped creating horrors in my head.we've got to go i hear someone say.he wants to know if i can drive,am i ok.I'm not ok but I'm driving. i have to stay strong for him, for them, for me.as i hit the tarmac all i can see is lights in the distance.time is everything so i accelerate to catch up to them.i will not get left behind.I'm cruising like I've never cruised before,if only this was a moment i could remember fondly.focus.concentrate.get there. I'm all of 10 seconds behind.i let them out and rush on to find parking.has anyone ever thought of valets at emergency rooms?focus.

they wont let us into the ER.not that i mind i know i wouldn't be able to handle it.there's lots of movement behind the curtain but that's about it.oh God.the i hear it the loud yell that creeps around the curtain and into our ears.that good right?he screams and screams and with each scream my heart breaks again and again.then silence!whats happening?why did he go quiet?is something wrong?someone tell me what the hell is happening.they knocked him out.ok.the silence continues hour after hour.needles and tubes,machines and beeps.i have to get away.this room is stifling,i cant breath. the darkness is creeping in again. i need air,space.that's better.breath.ok lets me see how everyone's doing.that'll distract me abit.coffee, chocolate, sugar.we all need some energy.

the sun is rising.what time is it?just past 6am.three hours and counting.finally!its been four and a half hours.they say we can see him now.he's alive,thank God.he looks so distressed.is he in pain?will he wake up?will he live?at least he's fighting,that's good right?he looks different.oh God,I've got to keep it together.he needs to rest.ill come back after a shower and something to eat. I'm...not tired,that can't even describe the way I'm feeling.i make it to the car, I'm alone and suddenly the weight of the night is just too much. i cant hold the tears back any longer.I'm choking, i cant breath,I'm worn out and then it comes, the floor of tears and fatigue.my body is shaking violently again.this time i don't fight it.i cry and i cry and i curse the man who pulled the trigger.Lord help him if i ever find out who he is.its passing.the weight has shifted slightly and now i can drive home. i need to call people.his friends, the family,my friends.

they say if it doesn't kill you it makes you stronger.maybe but right now.I'm at rock bottom.i know we'll probably recover from this and maybe one day we'll even laugh about it,but right now I'm at rock bottom BUT I'm just glad my big brother is alive.

if there's anyone out there who's been through what my family has been through in the last week your in my prayers and i hope someone will tell me how to get through this.

Can you speaka za English???

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 11:56:00 +0000

While we are now living in an extremely charged ethnic atmosphere, allow me to share this storo in the hope that we shall all remember the human nature of each of us despite our ethnicity.

I am a firm believer in communication. The one thing that scares me s***less is a chap who is unable to communicate well. I prefer straight to the point we are or we are not understanding and I detest that moment where any of us has to say "but i thought.....,didn't you mean...?" etc.

however it is very difficult to get that warm, i-feel-so-wanted kind of feeling when you have to re-read a text from a chap and try to decipher what the hell he is trying to communicate.

The truth of the matter is that kyuk chaps are notorious for writing messages that chics cannot comprehend. People, while I understand the haste and excitement that you may be writing in, is it so hard to do a ka-small spell chack before you hit send?

One very sweet guy who I really enjoy hanging with sent me a text: "I hope you and your family are safe and well, I can't wait to see your cute on monday."

and while I do have other messages I can share, it would be a dead give away to one partucilar chap who by the way still owes me a massage and other things that I have yet decipher.

Don't get me wrong even I send messages in haste sometimes only to realise dem! what did I do? But when a chap sends you a few messages in quick succession as you are conversing and there is no change,kijana kweli amezidiwa na lugha. and these guys are not zuzus Mr. See-your-cute has a masters.

Also it is not all kyuk men who have this ailment just a select few. My sis and some pals have "suffered' the same experiences on occasion and while it is a tolerable quirk allow me to inform you that you bleed points and in my case i get bored quickly and move on, that is after I have stopped cracking up.

In a totally unrelated related story, can chaps stop this bad manners of "Hi, I'm in *fill in name of favourite bar*, si you come?" I've always wondered how the hell that thought process develops and then I figured, its the most condusive environment and time (over pints) that most guys take stock of the day's, week's, and even life's events and its probably the one time you can genuinely believe that he was thinking about you. Why?..... the boys had to be updated on the developments, if any. The moment I get that call/text I always say "sawa, I'm kujaing". If I have ever shown up,just know that I have mad love and respect for you. I know there are guys who are still waiting and still bitter. Don't worry, you'll live!

Imagine I had mad storos today but the heat in Nailo today is so sick they have all evaporated. Then I went and made the poor decision of eating a mad ugali for lunch thus I am blogging when i should really be working. Anyway my day is almost up and I can't wait to get home and just chill. I think i'll die if I have to make dinner today. Until next time, hopefully tomorrow...

Nice time!

The year of Rebranding

noreply@blogger.com (Disco Muthenya) — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 08:13:00 +0000

After doing a raw and thorough inventory of my life, I have decided to take myself off the market and rebrand. You're probably thinking "she done lost her mind!" Well, maybe i have BUT I have good reason to back it up.
Here's how I've figured it out. I am a commodity, a product that is in the market and though my sales have not been doing too badly, I know i can do better. I came to the conclusion that i have a consistent line of behaviour when it comes to the men i date. Much as i would like to share the details I'm actually still abit embarrassed about it and more so that i didn't realise it sooner even when some friends had tried to warn me. So, i date a particular type of guy who, even as i am getting into the relationship, i already know that its not going to last. Why? ask me later. I'm still working on that answer. As a result within no time I am bored and/or highly disgusted with the said chap and i quickly cut and run. The thing is now i know that i have been putting out a vibe that attracts this type of man and that only i can change it thus the rebranding. While reeling from the shock of my AHA!!! moment i discovered that i had tweaked my 'vibe' and though i was in hiding, i found that now i was attracting a completely new breed of guys. There i was standing in the queue at the supermarket when i discovered i had caught the eye of a rather good looking chap. So i thought ooh! maybe the tide has changed only for the nut to remove his hand from his pocket. Lo and behold now im attracted the married ones. I fled like i was a runaway slave and for the last two months i have been a fugitive in my own life. The moment i spot them i turn and run. Fortunately that on passed so now I'm just not giving them the time of day.
Perhaps i should mention at this point that while i am in no particular hurry to get married, i have every hope that the next guy, or maybe the next after that, will be the one i settle down with. Why? Honestly, the reason why i don't 'invest' in my past relationships has been because i have a pretty good idea of the kind of guy i want to marry and for the record he is NOT perfect and i hope to God he has flaws that match my own. So while i do not know him by name, yet, i know his character, his appeal, his strengths and weaknesses, perhaps even his spirit. All i know is that one day ill know. Yes yes i know how creepy it sounds but that the way it is.
So for the Year 2008 this product, the Muthenya, has been discontinued until further notice for rebranding. Any ideas on how she can improve the product are welcome, feel free to be honest.
So will i date before i figure out what's up? Sure, why not after all there's a chap out there just waiting to humour me. And truth be told, i am no tree. Every now and then i need a hug or even a 'baby, how you doing?' In the mean time i am declare this to the the Year of the Muthenya. See you on the other side.