Life and a Slice of Bread

Mambo ni kuhama

2015-02-07T07:53:00.000+03:00

There comes a time in every blog's life that it picks up its belongings and moves on forward.

My dears, my friends, my faithfuls, we have found a new home. :) I hope you will come visiting some time. https://nochills.wordpress.com

With every broken bone, I lived

2015-01-20T15:58:00.001+03:00

Every year we make resolutions, every year we break resolution. Because that is how the life cycle happens. Unless you are one of the few who have willpower and grit and resolutions always stick. You know those people who are always starting successful businesses, and live completely healthy lifestyle, they get married when they say they will, and procreate at will and when they say they are going Maui this year, be assured they shall be going. We hate them, but we want to be them, a little. But they are always stories worth telling our friends because they are resolutions that worked, goals that were met, lives that decided to change and did. They were everything you want to be but are too tired/afraid/lazy/unmotivated to be. We go through one year like we did the last and we know (although most times we wished we didn't) that next year will be the same routine. Then one year, everything changes. You get an epiphany, someone passes on, you lose your job, you get sick or you just wake up with a start in the middle of the night. Something in your breakfast pancakes, the way the traffic lights changed or just how the sun set, there is that moment you realise how much of your life you have wasted.....not reaching, not trying, not living...

I hear, and don't quote me, everyone (that is 100% statistically speaking) should have a life changing moment or series of moments that makes them either question everything they are or strengthen everything they are. That is how millionnaires and nobel winners are made I presume. That's how I guess presidents and inventers are created. They got into that moment and got so engrossed and overwhelmed with it that it was all they could imagine or believe or do. Everything before that point, stops to matter. But even if that moment doesn't happen, don't you want to truly live. Get to the end all tapped out and complete. Being good. Being courageous. Being adventurous. Being Yourself.

Miles Munroe once said: “The greatest tragedy in life is not death, but a life without a purpose. - People generally fall into one of three groups: the few who make things happen, the many who watch things happen, and the overwhelming majority who have no notion of what happens. Every person is either a creator of fact or a creature of circumstance. He either puts color into his environment, or, like a chameleon, takes color from his environment.”

It is said that when the time comes, you will regret most the things you did not do. You know how you keep telling people you want to bunjee jump but never go or how you think you should put your business idea into play and never start or how you need to start saving and never try. That marathon, that girl/boy you want to talk to but keep looking at shyly into their direction, that position you want to apply for, that trip you need to make, that friend you need to call. Those are the things you will regret.

I am going to leave this lyric here because I think, this will be my resolution 2015: "I Lived"

Hope when you take that jump You don't fear the fall Hope when the water rises You build a wall Hope when the crowd screams out They're screaming your name Hope if everybody runs You choose to stay Hope that you fall in love And it hurts so bad The only way you can know Is give it all you have And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain Hope when the moment comes You'll say...

I, I did it all I, I did it all I owned every second That this world could give I saw so many places The things that I did Yeah, with every broken bone I swear I lived

Hope that you spend your days But they all add up And when that sun goes down Hope you raise your cup I wish that I could witness All your joy and all your pain But until my moment comes I'll say...

I, I did it all I, I did it all I owned every second That this world could give I saw so many places The things that I did Yeah, with every broken bone I swear I lived
Yeah, with every broken bone I swear I lived Yeah, with every broken bone I swear I lived
I, I did it all I, I did it all I owned every second That this world could give I saw so many places The things that I did Yeah, with every broken bone I swear I lived

Walk like an Egyptian

2015-01-07T16:18:00.002+03:00

Everything about my trip to Egypt is a story worth telling. From planning the trip, the actual stay there and the trip back. Even those have sub stories that I can't quite put into words. However, because we are all busy people I shall only keep the story to a few highlights. I decided long before I got onto the plane, I shall not have any expectations of this country. I will go with the flow, meet the people I will meet and enjoy myself to as far as I shall be allowed. It had been a rough year, I had to admit. Things had not gone well and I was determined to make sure I don't spoil a trip with expectations. Expectations lead to disappointments and by Jesus, I had had enough of those. Don't get me wrong, I did my research. And by research I mean, I had checked out the best clubs online and 'what to where in Egypt' being that it is a muslim country and all. Due diligence done, I packed up my book, swimsuit and earphones and set off.

Try to fly by night:

Cairo is a beautiful city at night. There is a reason flights land into that airport at night. Just looking down at the lights from the sky made me know immediately I was going to like being here. It is truly an urban designer's dream. Cairo from the sky was clear lines intersecting making wonderful patterns. As we approached I could see lights everywhere, I could see where the city ends, the roads that intersected off to other cities. It was magnificent. I got to the airport at 2.00 am and was picked up by this lovely chap called Amget. Now Amget is not an English speaking individual but he is the bomb. He was small, cute and funny. I knew I was going to like him from the moment he looked at me and said "You no man?!! Me, (points at my name) this is man." and then he grinned at me. A beautiful, happy, genuine grin of pure joy. The holiday had began. Because dear Amget did not speak my language, he communicated and showed me the sights using grunts, whistles and obscure sounds, to which I nodded and smiled.

(photo by Himtox)

Drive like an Egyptian:

I was not prepared for that first morning that was Cairo. Oh Jehovah....what?! I believe that when a little Cairo boy or girl goes to driving school, they are given these instructions: "accelerate, hoot, conquer the world." none of that roundabout, keep left, indicating nonsense of the normal world. They drive with a look of insanity and impatience. If you have never had a desire to race cars through a thicket in a forest, you cannot, and I repeat, you cannot drive in Cairo. If hooting bothers you....and you have to hoot even when they are alone on a highway...toot,toot, toot, Cairo is not your home. If you have imaginings that you shall have a scratch free life, kindly take a walk. Every car was scratched, from the brand new Bentleys to the 1985 fiats that littered the roads, every car was racing off at dangerous speeds and every car was hooting and everyone was shouting. In fact, the general practice is stop, reverse, slow down everyone and then speed off at the speed of light. Traffic rules are for the birds and the sissies. Only real men drive in Cairo. I will leave you with a quote from one Amget "Here on (insert Arabic word) we 100 (driving motion) but sometime 200,300 (shrugs and then grins at me.)" I tighten my belt and hold my seat tightly.

A nice looking variety:

It says something when your men are truly beautiful creatures. They are a very unpretentious people. They don't dress up for much really because they know how nice looking they are sitting there basking in their own beauty. I will give 2 examples to demonstrate my point:

1. There were these 2 chaps, who were seated next to us, who looked like they surf for a living, so they would come there with their long flowing hair and dark Egyptian skin, just enough facial hair and well toned abs and bask in the sun. I sucked in my stomach. I was not going to let my stomach shame me in front of those lovely male species. I split my time between reading, staring at them and staring at the sea. Then they would crack up and show me their perfect teeth. At one point one of them ran past us and my pal gos "Do you feel like you are in a movie?" I go "yeah." and I nod appreciatively at the hair blowing in the breeze.

2.Then there was the time at the club, me and my friends are just sitting happily enjoying the night, oblivious to life then these 2 (I think beauty walks in pairs) chaps, maybe 6ft 12' with faces and bodies that looked like they had been carved by pharaoh's slaves. I swear the air was sucked out of the room when they walked in with their brooding faces and casual swag. No amount of drugs,torture or alcohol was going to get me talking to those dudes. I immediately got low self esteem with my hair that had taken in too much sand and my skin that was drying in their harsh splendour. There are many more stories that included shop keepers, waiters and so on. But that was the general drift.

(I was too embarrassed to take photos with the hot men, this should suffice, no?)

Give me your hand.

I am a pretty suspicious character but remember, at the beginning I said this was a no chills trip. The first dude who told me "Give me your hand" carried me onto a horse (that almost killed me. I was not built for cowboy nonsense), the second little girl molested my hand, the third offered marriage. There was a general trend with my hand going round. For some reason, for a week, I just kept giving out my hand to strange Egyptian men. I may have been overwhelmed truly by everything about them. It was hilarious. Another thing, these Egyptian men, they propose at least once a day. They are bold and aggressive like that. We got discounts because they would marry us,, a waiter learnt a new word of English every time he came to the table so that my pal would become his second wife, a guy swore to kill his wife (that was one of the extreme ones granted) but you get the picture. It was really a frenzy of marriage proposals and hand holding. Kenyans should take a lesson in persistence. They did not relent. Going forward though, I won't be so generous with my hand.

(Terrorist no. 1 on the give me your hand escapade)

Beautiful Hurgada:

By the Red Sea is where you go to forget your problem....it is actually where you go to forget your life. I forgot even my beloved family in Hurgada. I remember being asked "Where do you want to be in 5 years?" and all I could think was that I wanted to be right here in 5 years. Maybe surfing, maybe diving, maybe writing, but right there in beautiful Hurgada with its crystal clear water and white sandy beach was where I would want to be. It is pretty touristy with everything translated into Russian and all that jazz. It has this beautiful pedestrian walkways about the size of a two-way street where you can do romantic walks under the clear sky and if you are like us, you can dance to the music pouring out of clubs and restaurants.There are two major clubs in Hurgada. Little Budhaa, with its enviable interiors (but we Africans are allergic to entry charges) so we went to the Hard Rock Cafe down the street where we wasted money like we grew it in farms in Limuru. But, we were determined to leave our mark in that place. The good thing about Hard Rock is that it reminded me a little of Mercury, ABC and with that we made ourselves a home. Our waiters, Alfredo and Midooooo, I could carry them with me if I could. On our last day there, they offered to make for us take away cocktails cups (at a price of-course). I was so amused by that. We made great memories there.

(Hey bartender!!! Midoooo and Alfredo respectively)

(All clear skies and beautiful sea)

(Did I lie about the walkway, did I?)

Street Music, street shisha, streetfood...we live on the street:

Cairo does not sleep, ever. Who needs sleep anyway? The shops are open way past midnight, people carry their children to clubs, old men and women just sit around at 3 a.m smoking shisha (Everyone smokes shisha in Egypt and everyone smokes rough tobacco cigarettes). Because I was constantly disoriented by their hours, I got to Nairobi exhausted and sleep deprived. However, the whole experience of window shopping late into the night, eating falafel (is that right) late at night and listening to live musicians singing and playing instruments at night, I wouldn't trade for all that sleep I missed. Strangely though, all tourist attractions are closed at 4pm. So if you need to see anything of cultural importance, you need to be awake early enough. Everything else stays up until the traffic dies down. (Oh, and you could make a game of name the roads i Cairo: from 26th of July Street to 6th of October Corridor)

10 things you should see:

1. The pyramids and the Sphinx: You do not go there without seeing those things. How? Egypt is not Egypt without a visit to the pyramids and being harassed by Camel and Horse riders and their children. If for nothing else, go and just see their sheer size. No cameras allowed insode the pyramids.

2. The egyptian museum: 3000 sculptures and paraphenalia. The possibility is you will not look at all 3000 but if you have any interest in the history of Egypt, this would be a good place to see. No cameras allowed inside as well.
(The entrance)

3. Tahrir Square: The famous square of the revolution. It is right next to the museum so you can do both at one go. It has abit of security presence ofcourse but just people watching at this square is quite something. There's also alot of books and photo books on the revolution in the bookshops.

4. Look for the street art: I always saw it when I was on the move but it is quite something. Unlike us, they don't paint over it with ugly blue paint.
(This was part of a much bigger installation....hehehe....anyway, it included bollards and street furniture but I just caught the last part)

5. Old/Islamic Cairo: If you have architecture in your blood, then this is the place for you. It is an overwhelming of the senses. It is what Mombasa old town is only 12 times larger. It is beautiful. The whole town though is littered with magnificent buildings so take some time to walk around.

6. Khaleed al Khaleli: This is their Maasai market again only like 1000 times bigger (They don't do anything in small sizes). Go bargain like an African because I know you want to. :) At night, you can have your food there while you listen to the Egyptian sounds.

(Street music and a round of shisha to everyone)

(the market by day)

7. If you do get to travel out of town, take in the sculptures along the road and if you have time, stop at their toll stations, I have not seen anything like it. With its carvings and art. It is much preetier at night.

8. Eating by the Nile at sunset. I shall say no more.

9. See Cairo from the Nile as well. Grab a Felluca, sneak a bottle of wine or tea and drift away. If you prone to romantic gestures, this would be a good one.

10. If you are like me and have never seen a desert. Drive out towards the Suez Canal with the desert to one side and the sea to the other....toot toot toot.

I shall dedicate this post to BFF and BFFFF for "Saying YES to life with me!" :D May this song forever be in our thoughts. Thanks for the memories.

As I lay me down to sleep

2014-12-08T14:29:00.000+03:00

Lord, as I lay me down to sleep,

In the past 12 months or so, we have seen people leave us. Too many people. Young and happy and smiling. In the most spectacular manner. Disease. I always thought it would take longer before words like cancer and floating clots and diabetes starting taking away people my parents' age let alone people my own age. But now every month or so, I feel like I am caught up in some discussion of funeral arrangements for a friend's loved one or the sudden demise of a closely departed. "And they were so young." "It is quite sad that they had to go that way." It scares me that we have so many things in common with these people: Age, interests, dreams, futures.....futures?....futures!! (deep breaths) Yes, they had a future of which ....

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

I have developed a new fear this past year. A strong fear that the Lord shall take me away before I have lived out my dreams. Before my future is written. I shall die with all these things still in my head. I now have a strong desire to tell every single person I meet every single thought that goes through my mind every single minute of every single day. Because maybe, should the inevitable happen, someone will carry that dream forward. That thought will become reality. So now, I scribble insistently on pieces of paper and the back of doors and notebooks. In coffee bars and on quiet benches. Hoping that should I be unable to fulfill just one of those dreams and ....

If I should die before I wake,

Lord, I was unable to do something new today. I was unable to change a life or make a difference. Will that be the shameful cry of my dying beating heart as I close my eyes for the last time. I pray every day that I may leave an impact on something, anything. I an scared sh#%1&$ that I could go with nothing to show for my life. I pray everyday that someone within my circle of influence, anyone however slightly will have a slightly improved life by my mere existence. But who wants to merely exist? I need to live, to love, to breath, to touch. Should I die before I wake, I will not be ready to go. I will be years away from being ready to go. I will be a shameful eon from being even slightly prepared to start living, let alone dying. Am I living to die? Am I dying to live? Have I been so scared to live that I have actually died. I pray oh Lord, I pray....

I pray to God my soul to take.

So now I am offering this books and papers and words of hopes and dreams to God. I clearly have no idea what I am doing. I have no idea where I am supposed to be going with it all. It is distressing, and hopeless and soul draining...yes, soul draining. Living in this fear. In this unending hopelessness that I shall take with me my soul and my dreams and purpose. Did they have unfulfilled dreams Lord? Had their purpose in this life been fulfilled? Did they know it in that last moment? I need that assurance that when you finally do take my soul to keep that I will know I had done all I could on this land of the living. But....

If I should live for other days,

As I write and discuss and read and develop, I pray that my hand may be held to lead me in the direction I should go. That every day, every single day, I may be able to grow for myself and more importantly for those around me. Singing loudly to the words of "This world is not my home" is not even slightly reassuring. This world has been my home for the past couple of decades. The desire that I may stop saying "Tomorrow I will start on something new" should stop. What happens if today is my last? I should need to do things today. Now. This should be a time for me to leave behind me a lasting legacy. However small, may it be lasting. May I never doubt that I have been put here for a purpose and even as I search the depths and heights to achieve these dreams....

I pray the Lord to guide my ways.

20kms and more

2014-10-28T16:27:00.002+03:00

5.30 am - The alarm rings. It is so loud. So, so loud. I groan, I turn and then I hear a car roll up right under my window. Shame on his drunk a**e. I am allowed to judge on a day like this. My eyes suddenly pop open. I had told the watchman to make sure no one parks behind me. Today is an important day. I roll out of bed and look our unseeingly into the darkness. The guy stops, walks out, I panic. I grab the only thing near me, my towel and run down the stairs barefoot. His inebriated eyes look at my underdressed form. He probably doesn’t register what is happening at this hour in the morning. We jibber about how I am going to get out. Some small chit chat, exchange of names, mumbling and we finally come to a consensus. He reverses. I reverse, we exchange spots. Crisis Solved. Thank you Jesus.

6.30am – After a tour of “tembea Nairobi, know your city” (they have closed every conceivable road that would make vehicular transport possible), I arrive at my destination…my friend’s car park. I remove all my excess baggage, which is everything…almost. The water I had carried has soaked through everything else (cake, sweatshirt, wallet….all soaked). Keep calm and breath deep. I text aforementioned friend and thank her profusely for having the wisdom and courage to live so close to such a big event. 

7.00am – The first lot have just been released. My heart is pumping right through my shirt. I can see it. Thump,thump,thump it goes. I am irrationally scared for my life. I see the group on the other side of the road take off. Almost in slow motion. Then I realize they are moving really slowly. Taking their time, taking deep breaths…I watch them in wonder as they turn to face the sun.

7.30am – It is now our turn. The MC has made people irrationally dance. With the little energy we had saved at night. It has all been wasted on dancing and waving our hands in the air like crazy people…like we just don’t care. But we must care with the journey we are about to embark on. I care. My fear has reached its peak. I am bordering on panic attacks and irrationality. I avoid people’s eyes for what they might witness. Crazy eyes. No one shall judge me if I walk away now and go home. No. I am already here. There is no turning back. The gun is fired.

8.20am – The sun is HOT. It burns to my bones. My body is slippery, nothing is holding. My hands can’t hold my phone, my ears can’t hold onto my earphones. I’ve given up on the earphones, I shall sing to myself in my head. My body has become the path in which all sweat on earth passes through. So much so that the body has started showing signs of constipation. Whatever the he** is happening? I burp once, I burp again…Lord give me water from the well….I see a tent. Oh Lord Jesus thank you. I run towards it. I think I may have just hit the 9km line.

8.30am – I see a blurry 10km mark. On the opposite side, I see a recognizable rugby face. He is walking. Who am I to run when known athletes walk. I stop, I sip my water. I high five him. It feels like a burst of energy. I am almost half way there. I spit the remaining water to the ground. Because only athletes spit perfectly good water. Jesus take the wheel.

9.00am – Life is hard Lord. Life is HAAAARD! My legs cannot run no more. I see my friend just beyond the bend. I hope I do not look as battered as he does. My guess is that I look worse. I call his name. No. I scream his name. He stops and I can tell his heart has soared. The moral support he needed to take this last leg. We walk for abit…maybe 4km…we discuss how we should have doped. We would be done by now if we had and no one would have been the wiser. His shoes are killing him, my thighs are killing me. The route suddenly turns upwards, like it wants to test us more than it needs to. I am Moses. I shall face the mountain.

10.00am – We have been walking for an hour. I decide it is time to run. I jog on at a pace that is slightly faster than standing perfectly still. We are heading downwards towards the stadium. I feel my heart race at the prospect of finishing. I leave my friend behind. He refuses to join me in my joy. I should have guessed that he knew better. I take the turn. We are not at the end child. I still have to make a 2km loop before I can safely get on home. I want to jump the line that separates me from my freedom. Something my friend says keeps screaming in my head “You are only cheating yourself?” The damn conscience refuses to grant my legs the desire for early release. Lord, I thought you were taking the wheel.

10.28am- I am finally at the stadium gate. 1000 suns beat upon my body, my legs feel punished for no wrongdoing. They plot their revenge. I refuse them their satisfaction. I shall finish this race with a run. Everyone runs to the end. I refuse to be the one who doesn’t do the lap of honour. A few minutes later, I hit the glorious finishing mat. I love you mat. I love you so much. My body is too dry to cry but I could if I would. I get my medal and collapse into the grass. I cannot feel my right hip. The nerves may have been left somewhere near the 18km point. I shall wait for them in the grass. Maybe this what it meant when they said we will go through trials and tribulations.

2:00pm – I sleep in the shower, I sleep while I warm my food, I sleep while I eat it. Everything is sore and what is not sore, I believe is not alive. I switch on the TV. The nerve endings on my fingers are frayed and annoyed and they let me know. My whole body is hot. There is a deep, boiling heat from the depths of my stomach. I am burning. I lather my body in deep heat. No body part goes unpunished. I drag the duvet to my favourite spot on the couch. I curl up and die to the world. Goodnight world. Let’s not do this again soon.

Ten Thousand Hours

2014-10-23T12:24:00.001+03:00

I will start my article today with a personal anecdote (antidote? ....no anecdote sounds right). Over the past weekend, we bumped into a marathoner (It is probably the coolest thing that has happened to me in a bit, so I shall mention it often and in inappropriate places). We had gone to try out new experiences and this kindly gentleman decided to accompany us in our new experience. In the midst of this aimless running in the wilderness, we got to talking about the art of running a marathon, seeing as that was what I plan to do next weekend and seeing that he has done this professionally for a couple of decades....who better to ask advice from? This is what he told me (not in so many words):

For someone to become a professional runner, you have to practice running every single day for at least two hours, for a year. Just running. This improves your posture, lung capacity and it just gets your body used to running. Then after that, you have to work on your strength and resistance for another year. (So on top of the two hours you are running, you have to do weights, uphill and downhill resistance, sit ups, pull ups and planking and all sorts of ridiculous things….every.single.day). This lets your muscles adapt to the strain and pain of running thus preventing injuries. Now you’ve moved from 2 hours to 4 hours. If we calculate that, we are talking in just 2 years, you have done 2,190 hours of practice….Then you can start competitive running. But don’t forget, that just gets you to the bottom of the ranking.

I am reading a book called ‘Bounce’ (Thanks person who gave me this book. :). It says that genius is achieved after 10,000 hours of purposeful practice, which roughly translates to 10 years of continuous practice. Whether you are child prodigy, a master painter, a math genius, a top athlete, whatever it is…..10,000 hours. To be at the top of your game….10,000 hours. To condition yourself to be the best.....10,000 hours. (Let that sink in for abit....a few more minutes then?) Mathematically speaking, if you work 8 hours a day on the same thing for 20 days a month, you should attain genius status in 62.5 months or roughly a little over 5 years. Doesn't sound too hard does it? Now I know what you are wondering. Why haven't you become Louis Hamilton after driving for 20 years, Richard Branson sitting behind your desk doing accounts recievables for 15 years or even Tiger Woods going to the golf course every morning at 6? Why are you not a genius yet?

If you read the sentence it said “10,000 hours of purposeful practice”. That means quantity and quality practice. What were you doing when you were working? Probably, thinking about your date last night, fighting with your colleague about paper clips or if you are like me, your brain was half asleep and the part that was awake was doing grocery shopping. Basically, you are autopiloting all the way to the monthly salary. Your hands work while everything else just goes on holiday. The challenge is gone, the mystery is gone and the boredom has set in and engulfed you completely and totally.

The genius however trains for a purpose. To get better and then become the best. They improve their skills by trying out a harder strategy and then they do it for hours and then move to the next hard strategy. They are already good at what they do. They however constantly challenge themselves to be better. Top NBA stars are trained by having 2 instead of 1 blocker playing against them during practice, top golfers practices out of sand pits and obstacles as opposed to the green, top seed tennis players, make hit after hit at a candle stick on the other end of the court to practice directional control, musicians hit the same note over and over again until it is the only note they can hit, race car drivers train in the wet conditions over and over to master control. I even heard pick pockets train skill and running every morning before going to work. They do the same thing over and over and over again until they own it, and then go on to the next level. It works the same way in business. That’s how new models and new techniques are created. So that when the easier task which is playing against an opponent, it is a natural fluid movement, almost like they were born with it. The ordinary folk like you and me call it instinct. These people are not just working harder than everyone else, they are working smarter than everyone else. Accounts receivable is not their end goal.

To put it in perspective…Mozart had put in over 3,500 hours of practice before his first performance at 5 years of age (child prodigy?), Tiger Woods began training at the age of 2…he became a junior champion at 13. Serena and Venus began playing tennis at 4 and 3 years practicing for 8 hours at a time, the math genius Sarah Flannery’s father would write math problems on a kitchen blackboard for her to solve when she was barely a toddler. Picasso drew faces and body postures over and over and over, sometimes up to 200 times before he made a master piece. It not only makes movements fluid, it allows you to see where the mistakes you make.

From the website http://www.businessinsider.com/executives-share-the-best-advice-they-ever-got-2012-3?op=1 "22 Executives Share The Best Advice They Ever Received" The best minds in the business give more or less the same conclusion....don't dwell indefinitely to your past, move forward, be better and learn. The concept remains, genius grows.

So there you are at your office, discussing people who have done great things and how lucky they are and yet, you have not put a single hour of yourself into anything meaningful. You want to be a great businessman and yet you don’t try to learn anything new. The 20 top CEOs in the world are up before 5 am every morning. Not to mention Chris Kirubi, Titus Naikuni, Bob Collymore and our very own president. You want to become a rapper, and you party all night and wake up in the afternoon, waiting to be an overnight success. Jay Z started banging on his mother's dishes as a teenager and joined rap battles in the late 1980s. It is now 2014...more than 25 years since he began...he is not the overnight success you believe he is. If you are going to dream big, you have to put some meaningful working hours towards it, you have to get feedback and repeat until you are at the very least good at it.

Even if you are not aiming to be the best, you at least want to be good at what you do. So it may not be 10,000 hours but you can do a few hours a week of purposeful self-improvement. Read, practice, run, sing, be better. My question after all this is, what are you doing with your 10,000 hours? Are you just day dreaming about the long weekend or are you aiming for something bigger?

"Nothing worthwhile ever happens quickly and easily. You achieve only as you are determined to achieve...and as you keep at it until you have achieved" Robert H. Lauer

Dinner for 1

2014-09-23T15:39:00.000+03:00

If you are going to pity me after this post, I suggest you turn back and wait for my next post..I promise it will be less pity worthy...if you are going to empathise, "welcome home honey."

About a year ago, I had a string of strange, and with hindsight,funny encounters. I decided it was time to change my definition of what my life should be. So I took out a notebook and a pen, and started writing a list of things I expected from this year. Somewhere between my birthday and my list of inspiration, I made some realisations. This is the story of those realisations.

You see, I knew what I wanted from life. I knew what I expected from my career, from my body, from my family but when I started a list of what I wanted from my relationships, I drew a very disconcerting blank.The male species baffles me, awes me and continuously perturbs me. I had been in and out of relationships and yet for reasons, I could not explain to myself, I had no idea where any of them were going. I was beyond the age where I could say such things in public. It was shameful to admit such things when half your support system had families and in-laws always unceremoniously stepping in on your plans. What was I to do? I was going to sit up straight and pretend I had a good idea of what men wanted, needed or even slightly hoped for. I thought I had things under control. But as I looked at the blank paper in front of me, I decided that the best course of action was to write a list of what I expected out of myself and then maybe I'll know what I needed from other people.. So, off I went to self improve.

STEP no. 1: I needed to find myself. I noticed I had never done anything by myself. And I mean anything. I had never sat at the counter of a bar and had a drink by myself, I had never gone for a jog by myself, I had never even eaten a meal by myself willingly. I would sleep hungry and wait for people to come and eat with me. Who lives like that? I prided myself for being independent and yet I had never even sat down at my mother's kitchen table (the safest place in the world), and eaten by my own self. Ever. Maybe I was scared of my thoughts, did I think I was going to fidget my hands into stumps? I had to learn to be by myself for a while. I moved out of the apartment I shared with a friend and went in search of a place to live......by myself. My budget was restricted and my tastes even more so. I eventually ended up in a little flat a little out of town. The weather was great, the apartment fit my needs and I didn't have to rob a bank. I was happy. I was moving on up. I was going to eat my issues with a big spoon and enjoy it.

PROBLEM no. 1: No one ever comes. I used to live in a convenient place. Drop ins were common and welcome. Parking was available and sufficient. Now my new place was everything that my old place wasn't. It is far, in the cooler climates of our diverse country and it has an almost laughable parking. I don't live far enough to call it a road trip and I don't live near enough for a walk-in. I found myself alone a lot. I would wake up on a Saturday and stare at the wall for half a day, watch movies the other half then then sit depressed through the night feeling abandoned. I needed people who I could sit around and not talk to. So I invited people over. All the time. And the days there was no one, I would drive to someone else's house and surround them with my fantastic presence......and probably suck out their energy. Eventually, I found out that this habit was unsustainable. I had 2 options.....learn to be alone or move back into the city.

STEP no. 2: Learn to like things. This is what I knew about myself prior to this year. I liked to read, I liked to scowl at people annoyingly and I liked to be among people while doing absolutely nothing. I do not include those things in my CV but those were my top 3 hobbies. Life has diversified since. Hallelujah and Amen!! A look in the mirror made me realise that there was very little for a man to like in a girl who sulked annoyingly at her books in a corner. Here's what I know about myself now after months of hard work: I enjoy running and hiking (like really, really enjoy it), I enjoy experimenting with food (note: I did not say I like cooking but experimenting and I do it with enthusiasm), I enjoy street shopping (I have collected such joys from the street. Just got some lovely paintings from a start-out artist) AND, and this came as a shock even to me, I really enjoy eating by myself at restaurants. I get to observe people and make up stories of their families, I chat up waiters, I have met some interesting characters also eating by themselves and it has given me a chance to quietly read and plan and organise my thoughts.

Every month or so, I pick a place, usually when I am street shopping, and I buy myself a meal. Sometimes, someone will join me unexpectedly, sometimes I will make a new friend but most times I will just quietly sit somewhere and observe my world go by. Fascinatingly enough, tables for 1, have excellent locations in the room and the waiters have yet to forget me. I am now working up courage to travel to somewhere by myself. I feel like it could be the most interesting experience ever.

As I psyche myself up to make a potato frittata and tie my shoelaces to prepare for a jog, I cant help but pat myself on the back. Look how far I have come and I am not turning back.

Flat tyres, happy samaritans and what nots.....

2014-09-18T10:37:00.002+03:00

There is this article that comes on some National newspaper on Saturdays that lets women talk about their cars. What do they call it, how does it handle, you know questions women wouldn't normally think about. I am not stupid in the car department (I watch top gear) so I know a little about cars, or to be more precise, I know quite a bit about MY car. The one question that always baffles me is "What do you do when you got a flat?" The answer is always the same. From the girl who calls her duet Millie to the road hog who thinks Pedro was a wise name for her Range Rover. "I change my own tyres. I think its a skill every woman should have." Liar, Liar, your pants be on fire. That lie may impress hopeful college students and young high school minds but they do not fool any woman who has ever, EVER tried to change a wheel on her own.

Unless you have the upper body strength of Hulk, I suggest you re-think your answer. In all the years I have been behind the wheel, I have had the misfortune to change my own tyre once. And people, that was one time too many. After what seemed like hours of toiling in the hot sun, my spare almost ran away from me a few minutes after getting back onto the road. That wheel was held by the grace of God and pixie dust because the nuts were definitely not doing a great job of it. My guardian angels sometimes do have to earn their keep. I have very little to no upper body strength. I have toddler nephews who have lifted heavier weights than I have. So if ever I was asked, "What would you do if you got a flat?", My answer would be a resounding "NOOOOOOO!"

So, 2 Fridays ago, the unimaginable happened. Pedro got a flat (He may not be a Range Rover, but I treat him like one). It was early morning, I was rushing to work, it was cold and raining like the clouds were angry with our desire to go out and earn a living. I was determined. So at the demure pace of 20kph, (that was all I could manage on the rough, wet roads of Nairobi) I did not feel the wheel depressurise to nothingness. Mostly because, deep in my heart, I never thought it could happen at this hour in such weather. There I am hobbling on at a snail's pace in the rain when this motor-bike behind me keeps flashing its lights .... at me. I have watched enough Jicho Pevu to send me into irrational panic, so I resolutely refused to stop.....for 10 minutes. These could be gang members, or small boys with guns they can't use. I did not have enough assets for anyone to inherit. I felt that my demise would be a waste to humanity so I drove on... for myself and the lives of my dependants. However, the motor bike rider was insistent. He rode up to my window, pointed frantically at my wheel, pointed again more frantically, shouted something I didn't catch and I finally got the message. (Samaritan no. 1)

Ever the cautious woman, I drove to the next estate and drove in. If they were up to no good, at least I could scream for help. They drove on past me glad that they had done their good deed of the day. I got out of my car and stared point blank at my problem....and immediately, with no warning whatsoever, I started to weep. My first instinct was to pick up my things and continue my journey to the office on foot. Car be damned. I didn't need this!!!

However, like a knight in wet soaking clothes, this chap came out from under a tree, looked at me pitifully and told me "leta gari karibu nitakubadilishia" (bring the car closer, I will change it for you). Some things you don't have to be told twice. He toiled in the rain while I unsuccessfully tried to provide cover with my small umbrella. It was muddy, it was cold, I was pitying him, I was pitying myself....good times all round. Within minutes, the car was fixed, my donut was on and I was ready to conquer the world in my muddy jeans and wet jacket. In true Kenyan fashion, I reached out for my wallet to 'thank' him. He looked at me like a silly child and said words that still bring tears to my eyes "Ni sawa, Nilikuwa tu nakusaidia. Lakini unaweza nisaidia na kitu ya kupanguza mikono." I gave him my whole box of tissue. He had saved my car. He had saved my life. I could have given him the clothes off my back if he had asked. (Samaritan no.2)

In the midst of my profuse gratitude, some chap comes up and says he needs to jump start his car that had stalled a few meters back. I know after everything that had happened, I should have jumped at the opportunity to help, but a girl does not erase Jicho Pevu stories in a day. I hesitated....but just for a second. Then I realised it may take him forever to get someone to stop and help. So I took my blessings, prayed to the dark clouds above and went to jump start his car. (Samaritan no. 3 :-)

Needless to say the rest of the day wasn't my most pleasant day, but I know it would have turned out much worse if the bodaboda guy didn't flag me down or the guy from under the tree didn't appear and offer to help or the wet guy with his stalled car didn't come begging for help (I wouldn't have known someone had stolen my jump start cables. Now I know and can plan to buy some new ones). Life is funny like that. No, I cannot change my own tyre and I shall not pretend I can (because someone may take me seriously) and I am clearly not the strongest person in the face of adversity but as far as things go, God does keep providing me with happy Samaritans. :-)

An amazing friend in need

2014-09-11T12:20:00.000+03:00

I have this amazing friend who did something amazing. Of course.

Now, my amazing friend has an even more amazing friend who is doing something even more amazing. (You need to keep up with the story from here! Grab a pen people.)

My friend's more amazing friend grew up in Kibera and for a long time had wondered the best way to impact his community. In his thoughts and wonderings, he finally opened a feeding center for kids a few years back. The feeding center also teaches kids to read and write and count and be courteous to others. You know.....all those things we take for granted. Through coincidences, miracles, divine intervention and general amazingness, my amazing friend met her more amazing friend and decided to help with the feeding center. She has a heart of gold and so she gathered up friends and foe, strangers and acquaintances, to find ways to help this feeding center. She, my amazing friend, has done wonderful and amazing things all by herself and when I think about it I feel like I should knight her. 'Become a lady of the golden burning spear woman.' said the queen to be in another wonderful life.

So, not a long time ago, this feeding center lost its main donors. The feeding center currently takes care of 50 kids. For most of these kids, this is the only place they get nourishment. I met some of these kids a few months back and they are so amazing and energetic and full of hope and the need to help overwhelmed me a little. At some moments in my confusion, I contemplated adopting. But then at the time, I had absolutely no idea what to do (adopting was clearly not an option). I just watched them dance and laugh and felt helpless for a little bit. But a group of us, have come together to rally behind our amazing friend and her even more amazing friend to help these happy, dancing kids. So we sat, like all normal people in our half of the divide, and discussed this important issue for endless months with endless solutions and did nothing.

But now we have to do something. These kids needed food. We just had to act. This month we have decided to ensure that these little children have a meal a day. When the even more amazing friend sent us a budget, we were shocked at what it takes to feed these kids. It isn't a ground breaking figure, they dont need to eat at the Hilton, just a meal that will nourish them and make sure they survive to the next day, the next month, the next year.

I am not good at asking for anything. My personality does not allow for it, usually. BUT, HOWEVER, MOREOVER here is my plea, (to all 12 amazing people who read this blog), please join us in helping this center feed the children of Kibera. We are accepting any help we can get. Financial, physical, emotional, just forwarding this information to your many, many amazing friends will help. You could write to me in the comments or DM me on @neemom if you need information on our little amazing friends in need.

These girls could be president one day. :-)

When darkness falls

2014-08-22T12:10:00.000+03:00

I read a little while back that suicide is significantly higher with comedians than with any other celebrity group. This became more apparent when Robin Williams, a seemingly together, successful and 'the happiest person on earth' was found in a most dire situation. I guess its harder to admit you're depressed when everyone expects you to make them happy. The irony! But Depression is real. The person seated next to you, your mother, brother, spouse, best friend, could be depressed right now. You will probably never know.

Depression sneaks up on you. Small triggers. A disappointment here, a failed project there, a minor, or sometimes major disease around the corner, a major event, a feeling of inadequacy along the way and finally something pushes you off the ledge and you just have no more strength to hold on....and you don't care. Depression is a strange little thing. It holds on to all your negative past until it becomes your only reality. However small the hiccup was in the past, you remember it, you hold onto it, you meditate deeply on it, you write poetry about it. Your mission in life becomes to make it right. Your accomplishments, however large and significant, start to fade in comparison. So you work harder towards a 'seemingly perfect' world. A world where everything you do works and people can simultaneously praise you while you can still be behind the scenes. Its irrational but then again, isn't all mental illness?!

You lose interest in everything but you fight harder to act normal. So try and laugh more, and with time, you learn to make your laughter, your voice, your facial expression real....you know, not like robocop or a transformer, but like a real boy. You train yourself to walk, to stand up straight, to fight. Everything is an act. You are a performer in the stage of life. And since you are such an excellent performer, you are the best at alot of things. You are not just the best at being yourself. You have to wake up in the morning to work. So you wake up. You have to work to pay rent. So you go to work. You have to eat to sustain yourself. So you eat ( sometimes not the best food, but you eat nonetheless). With time, the routine becomes common, comforting even. The worst days are when you don't have a routine to fall back on. Weekends, holidays, leave days. Because that is when you are truly yourself and you don't like what you see. You have nothing to wake up to or dress for or pretend to smile at. So you just don't. You lock yourself up with your demons and let them take control

If you are lucky, you have people who love you enough to get you out of it from time to time. They give you things to do, they take you out of your own head and out of your own space. They give you a support system, something to hold on to, something to fight for. Because you know better than anyone else, the more you are left with your demons, the more consumed you become with your failures, your hopelessness, your personal darkness. So the people you love, despite themselves, give you hope. They become your daily miracle.

I guess for everyone, coping mechanisms are different. I guess, that is why it's easy to hide. Some drink, some starve, some do drugs, some over work, some stop working completely. But the fear for everyone is the same. That some day you will be unable to fight the darkness anymore. That it will consume you, eat you up and no one, anywhere will be able to save you. Because when the fight ends, the demons shall rise, and everything will end. Completely. And you won't care. (PS. However sometimes people who drink are addicts and people who sleep too much are just lazy)

Depression is a deep darkness. It's deeper than just sadness, or disappointment,or pain. It is consuming and always there with you. Always. And it is very, very shameful. It doesn't segregate, discriminate, pick preferences. It attacks like a snake and its poison runs through the veins until it finally overtakes everything completely. Everything else loses meaning.

I am writing this because I have suffered various degrees of depression for a while now. It feels like I have been walking around with it for so long in fact that I have made it my friend. We can now dine together, watch TV, maybe share a couple of laughs. It has kept me in bed for days on end and I have lain in bed worrying about nothing for days on end as well. I have tried to drink it away, without success. So I moved on and looked for other ways to cope. Sometimes, which are become more frequent now, I feel like I have won the battle. I now know which situations and people send me into a dark spiral so I avoid them completely or as best as I can. The struggle is real and daily. It's hard to explain to people when you don't know what you are explaining exactly . It's odd. And especially since it is such a personal shame.

Everyone has their own personal battle. I believe all most people want to here is that 'You are not alone'.

And the man cried

2014-07-02T14:17:00.001+03:00

“To weep is to make less the depth of grief.” ― William Shakespeare

I often wonder if there could be anything sadder than a man crying. Not the screeching and screaming of professional mourners or the weeping of battered men in Nyeri but the silent, almost stoic tears of a grown man. I don't watch movies where men cry, unless they are crying in battle, neither do I sit next to men at funerals or look at grooms at weddings. Because inevitably, I will begin to cry, and yes, I will make sounds professional mourner can only hope to attain one day. Mine do not come as calm sobs from a well brought up child. The strength of my vocals are best tested in my wails.

When my father lost his mother, I could not put into words the sadness I felt for him when he put his brave voice on to break the news to us. Not only was this burden of burying his mother squarely on his shoulder but so was the burden of telling every single person he knew. I do not believe people should announce their pain over the phone and write it in the newspapers. And yet, society demands that we share with them our troubles...So, with the strength of a spartan preparing for war, he embarked on the journey to bury his mother. He pored over budgets, he tried to laugh at our conversations, he remembered, he attended endless meetings, he shook hands and hugged and bravely, he drove back and forth from his mother's home to plan her 'final journey home'. We helped, we rallied behind him but I don't think anyone could have been strong enough. Best as we tried.

The actual day of the funeral, I saw him cry for the first time. The cry of a man. The cry of my father. No sound was made and he wiped his tears with a grace and strength I had never experienced before. There were no sobbing sounds, no wails were heard from the spartan who stood across the room from me. Just a steady stream of tears. I watched my pillar of strength cry.

A man does not cry to show weakness but to reach for his strength. A man cries with integrity, never with shame. He cries for release, not for attention. A man's cry has a purpose, every tear is accounted for. A man may not wail as a woman does but he leans on his loved ones and lets them carry him for a while. A man handles his pain and finds a way to move on. A man should never hide from those who matter the most. And a man should never run from his grief.

I dont think my heart has ever broken as hard or felt as heavy as it did at that moment. When we were done with the event, and everyone had packed up and drank our tea, we took a short walk and asked him what he wanted to do now that it was done:

"I just want to sit down with a hot cup of tea and watch football."

So we went home and let him.

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Dreams of Me

2014-05-27T12:45:00.002+03:00

I always thought my life would turn out differently.
I always thought that by now, my life should have started figuring itself out. I should have had a career path set, a solid investment plan, a family, a home, a wardrobe. I do have those things....sort of...maybe....I think. Years later, I would be forgiven to look like a well-put together soul of the land. The untamed, unjudgy land. A soul of my dreams. Because I lack the strength to be a soul of the real world. The real world where my dreams are replaced with harsh truths. My desires replaced with responsibility. Dreams of a better life. A more fulfilled, more accomplished life. Not this life of lies that I live. Constantly convincing myself that I have the required stamina to move forward everyday.

Some days, this adulthood that I grew into seems almost like a forced ritual. Wake up, shower, check your bills, go to work, trek to the bank, run so that you don't die of lifestyle diseases, cook, sleep....then wake up with a start and pray that the Lord who created you has a bigger plan. A plan that I wish he could let me in on. Like I am cheating my way through life by creating a routine for myself. It almost feels like God may have made a mistake seeing as how blank I am on direction. ~~Give that girl a map!~~ Shouldn't life be more? Shouldn't it always be more?!

I dream of me. The me that I always thought I would be. The me that I thought I could be! The me that lived and let lived. The one who was the life of .... well, life. Dreams of a girl who knew her fashion, her cars and her men. Who knew her toes from her knees and didn't spend so much time trying to tell the difference. I dream of confidence and grace. All the things that I thought adults were when I was a child. Now I fumble with my forever-changing body, my constantly fearful heart and my desire to be more, to do more, to create more.

I dream of days where I will really know what it is I was meant to be doing, where all these mundane tasks I am carrying out are leading me to. It scares me that I could eventually leave this earth having achieved nothing meaningful, having touched no one, having not loved completely. I feel like this borrowed time that I am on should mean more, be more. Like I shouldn't waste it watching TV and walking slowly from shop to shop, smiling at strangers on the streets. Like I should be achieving greatness or at least trying to.

I dream of me. A different kind of me. I always did think my life would be further away from this keyboard. But here I am, living my life the best way I know how.

Living in my 3rd world problems! Aiyaiyai!

2014-05-13T16:17:00.001+03:00

I live in the middle house in our building. 2 houses up, 2 down and 2 to each side. So you would think I have a safe haven of sorts.

I like to think I am a fairly cautious person. Never live on the ground floor because you become a target and never live at the top so that you can save yourself in time of emergency. Do not let strangers into your house because they will rob you blind while you are in the kitchen,a lways switch off sockets so that you don't burn your house down when KPLC is in a mood, always check the security situation in an area, carry a torch and so on and so on.

So, yesterday as I bounded up the stairs to the safest house on the 2nd floor of my building, my mind was on today's deadlines. I had finally made some sort of breakthrough and I was going to change and go for a run to celebrate my accomplishments and then come and cook myself some Kikuyu stew full of potatoes and few sprinkles of beef. I hadn't had potato filled stew in a bit so you can imagine my excitement.So up the stairs I hopped until I came to a wide open door. My first thought was to check for my keys in my bag just incase I had forgotten to lock the door. My brain was still aclimitising to the scene. So i peeped in and as loud as I could I shouted "Hello!Hello!Anybody there?!" Yes, I did that because I watch too much CSI. And polite people answer back. So I called out a second time. The lights were on, so I figured, no one would be stupid enough to leave the lights on. Well, they were stupid enough.

After 2 excruciating minutes of listening in from the door, I decided in true James Bond fashion to slither into the house. Quietly. I removed my shoes and walked along the edge of the walls. My house is really not very big. Infact, it is a tiny little box from which you can scope the whole house at the door. Which begged the question of why I was creeping around! Well, desperate times. It took me all of that creeping before I noticed that my house had been turned inside out. The seat cushions were on the floor, the drawers were overturned,the bags had been sniffed at. The least they could have done was try and rearrange the clothes. My underwear was on the floor. Who touches a stranger's underwear.....WHO!!!! And then reads your bank statement. Argh!

At about this point, when I was staring in disbelief at my worldly possessions, my mind started screaming from the inside, loudly. This manifested itself as running around the corridor checking which neighbours house had been broken into. I was livid, I was confused but most of all, I was insane. The rest of the houses rested peacefully like they usually do on a Monday afternoon. I ran back to the house and pretty much just hovered confused for a few minutes. "The cops, yes, call the cops" "WAIT!Where are the cops! Oh yes, the cops!" I then put my bag down and ran out to get the cops. Midway to the door, I remembered. "Oh Lord, they have taken my Nashville!" My brain did not register at first that the said "Nashville" was in my laptop and my laptop was gone. It was just screaming, "What do these people want me to watch tonight?" So back to the bedroom. No laptop. No laptop bag. I screamed from my throat a little.

Off to the cops I started: As I ran down the stairs two steps at a time to report this heinous crime against humanity, I remembered that I had left my door unlocked. Clearly the theft had not improved my sense of security. I ran back up. Please note, all this time, I had touched absolutely nothing in the house. The crime unit at the cop shop may want to take prints and photos. I wanted the thieves' prints to be the ones with the freshest ones. The prints on top are not mine sir. I have not even lifted a cloth off the floor. Yes, they would come and find a fresh crime scene. Yes Sir!! The only available padlock I had was a little padlock that I use to lock my suitcases. That is all the protection I gave my house.....after a crime.

On my way to the cop shop, I decided to pass by the hardware, I needed a lock, something like they used at Fort Knox or State House. With eyeball recognition if possible. If it was possible to get one which recognises only my spit, I would have bought it. After a lengthy informed discussion with the hardware lady, I told her to give me what they use to lock their shop. If it is good enough for them, it is good enough for me. So I bought, the meanest padlock you ever saw. Proud of myself, I forgot all about the cops and marched on home with my padlock. I shall confront the landlady with this padlock. She shall feel my fear and confusion. She shall feel sorry for me and hire plain clothes police to guard my door. Getting home, I bump into the caretaker, who in no uncertain terms, begs me not to tell the landlady because he would lose his job. So I gave him an option. He can let her know that I have been broken into (and violated) and then I shall take it from there. This seemed to please him some. The mammoth padlock I was so proud of, was too big for my lock. I almost broke down and wailed, right there on the public corridor! All I wanted to do, was go for a run and make stew with a lot of potatoes.

The landlady did call shortly after, and talked to me for an hour where we itemised everything that happened (over the phone), nominated and discarded suspects, including anybody who had ever picked me up or dropped me outside the gate(that woman knows a lot more of my life than I am comfortable with), discussed her first home as a single woman, came up with conspiracy theories, that ended up going nowhere and then finally said our goodnights, sorries and no problems. She called about an hour later to discuss more conspiracy theories and ask if I had made a list. Where would I start, I wondered!I locked myself in with my small padlock and hoped my brittle prayers will keep the devil away from my house. I was going to give myself at least the meal of potatoes.

I slept in the sitting room. Or rather, I stayed half awake and had a start every time there was a noise on the corridor. They were not going to come creeping in on me while I slept peacefully in the bedroom. I was the protector of my fort, small as it may be. I quietly prayed that we would eventually pass a right to own guns. Then I would sit with it by the door all night and hope the a@#!! come back. By morning I was tired and wound up. I repacked my padlock and went to the cop shop. I have been to several cop shops to collect abstracts and such like things. I had never quite noticed what happens. The smells, the shouts, the evil laughter from the cells, the crying women on the benches.... There was once after I had quite a terrifying accident that I went, but I was so shaken, my mother wrote the police report for me. Police stations here are not like those on TV. Cops don't spend 4 hrs a day in the gym to build abs, buildings are not big, beautiful and intimidating with nice waiting chairs. No. This is reality. The cops are mostly short, annoyed people. The buildings are colourless with a blue band around the middle. The minute you enter one of those places, your mind instantly goes to anything you may have done wrong. They might see it in your eyes and their sarcastic remarks may make you confess. Next thing you know, you are behind there with all those hardened criminals. So you widen your eyes and speak in low tones and you pull your skirt down and you explain yourself in clear and concise sentences. Actually you don't explain yourself. You look at them through this metal grill and you say, "Nilivunjiwa nyumba"....Blank stare! He writes. "Jina, madam" .I mumble...Back ground noise of a mother outside shouting at her son who is inside the cell "Namba ya simu"....More mumbling on my end. Another cop walks in and asks the people in the cell at the back what they are in for and if they have been fined an appropriate amount........More mumbling from me, more shouts from the angry mother. "Ulifika nyumbani saa ngapi?"....More mumbling.....more writing... A pretty woman walks behind me with a bucket on her way back to the cell... "Na nini ikaibiwa? .....Huko nyuma nyamazeni".....More mumbling. Finally he removes a small piece of paper from a lunch box tin, where he simple writes my name and the word "THEFT" on it. I guess they did start by stealing my padlock! No CSI to my rescue, no bustle of leather jackets of concerned crime unit. Just a small paper with my name on it written "theft" with a date stamp! I held onto the paper like it would magically bring my dignity back.

I then went to exchange my super padlock, for a more reasonably sized one, trudged through the mud back home and locked my door. I then said a loud prayer in tongues just in case anybody was lurking around. Le sigh!!!....these my 3rd world problems! If you have a laptop with a large batman sticker which has NASHVILLE on pause, PLEASE BRING IT BACK TO MAMA!

Oh Lord, please give me an intelligent man!! I beg-oh!

2014-04-29T16:00:00.000+03:00

In the beginning, God made man (first) and then because like many men, Adam was a heavy sleeper, God harvested his good organs and made woman. However before Adam fell into his deep sleep, he was quite the intelligent chap, he put his superior mind to work, naming things all over the place......like a baus!!! Then Eve shows up and suddenly little Adam took over. Now I have the burden of child pain and he has daddy issues. However, even when his intelligence failed him miserably at the famous tree, we considered Adam quite the intelligent fellow. He didn't fair too badly after the fall either....although those lies could have used some work.

So what is the purpose of this history lesson? In all my upbringing, I was taught that the men I hang out with, even briefly, should have a bit of Adam in them. They should be stronger intellectually, spiritually and physically. Anything less and I shall be shaming my family name. You see, I have always had some level of intelligence around me. My brothers,family, friends, colleagues, etc....they may falter in a lot of ways but when I interact to them, I always learn something. They are curious, they are interesting and most of all they are intelligent. I may be better than them in one or two thing (at which point I scream girl power and in all my feminism classiness) but hardly ever I am better in all things. Even their deceit is well thought out. I forgive them because of how impressed I am with their effort......and also,I have a big heart.

Then I met the blondest of them all. Whaaat?! At first, he looks like someone you can have a good laugh with, maybe a conversation on the financial recovery in Eastern Europe or the Windmills in Ngong Hills. He dresses nice, he has many friends (so maybe they talk alot of important things), he seems to have worked hard for his things (they are nice things)and he really takes care of his skin. Maybe that skin thing should have been my first clue of what he thought was important. I do not know a man who takes care of his skin. A man does not get too concerned with pimples and things. Even Harvey Spectre has large pimples on his forehead all through Season 3 and he never EVER mentions the pimples. Three weeks after meeting him and a few shared meals, this was the conversation trend:

Him: What is making your skin so rough? It was so smooth.

Me (With a raised eyebrow): Nothing, just happens sometimes.

Him (with condescending sneer): You should do something about it. Do you drink water

Me (with even higher raised eyebrows): I shall try!

O_o

He never let that conversation go for a week. A week people!!!! One full week. However, when I spoke to him about my career shift and the reasons I switched and what it took out of me, here was his reply, "so now you are being paid less!" O_O -_- O_O. In between those conversations about my yo-yoing skin, he has monologues about other people and their lives, the people he knows, other things he has, other beauty regiments he has heard off that could shed the kilos ~~(his shape is round)~~ and most importantly how much everything costs. I have nothing against an occasional gossip but I have something against constantly talking about other people. Especially when Syria is in crisis. So I usually let him talk at least 95% of the time while I dream of a better world and peace for all men. Sometimes I feel I should confess for whatever sin I committed for such punishment.

~~*pardon my French*~~ So here is my prayer Lord, that I may never be so desperate to just accept advances from every person. I may die of boredom and brain atrophy before my time, and I can assure you I have some things left to do and I pray (and this is important), give me a man who's intelligent, who will get my awesome jokes and who will make me feel like a woman both spiritually, physically and most importantly intellectually. I beg-oh Father, I beg, save me from this nonsense.

Pairing bra straps to strapless bras

2014-04-07T12:36:00.002+03:00

"How's your husband?" At first I thought she had stopped talking to me and had shifted her attention to someone's imaginary wife behind me. Unfortunately, she was talking to me. As I said the next words, I braced myself for the predictable pity that would follow. "I'm not married?" (place best fake smile ever and let my mind wander into the flowers). I don't know what it is about the single life, that married women seem to pity. Is it our glowing skin, our ability to go home to silence and tranquility, or it's the big sign on our foreheads that scream, "Pity me,pity me, you happy,married, judgemental woman. PITY ME!!"

She looked quietly at me with her most understanding eyes and said a soft "Oh" and then for good measure added. "I am sure he will come. Maybe when we meet again...." her voice trailed off pitifully. That was a bi* slap moment right there if ever there was one. I had not seen her in almost a decade and she was going to judge my life on the fact that I was single. The only thing that held me back was the fact that across the various tables at lunch, were my seniors in various positions. My reputation was on the line. For a few seconds I wished her all the ill will in the world. Every imaginable evil I could conjure up without annoying karma.

"So what do you do with yourself after work?" Oh, how my thoughts did wander at that moment. "Alot more than you'd expect" I thought and smiled before I said "I pair my bras with missing bra straps." Blank look..... "You see I have these bras with removable bra straps so sometimes when I throw them in the drawer, they separate." More blank look. I smiled, sighed like this child doesn't seem to understand what I was saying and said as slowly as I could master. "It's like when socks become uncoupled. Sometimes bras do the same thing and the bras get misplaced from their straps. No one wants to walk around with a black bra with white straps. Its very unsightly. And Lord knows I could never get a husband that way." That story shut her up quite rightly. Let's see her go tell her other married friends about her sad, single former what-not. I turned around and left her to her thoughts.

Did I treat it rather harshly? Maybe. But it does get tiresome when people act like singlehood is a disease that should be eradicated like polio. Many married women seem to carry their single friends like a burden of love. Hooking them up with all their single friends, their husbands' bachelor friends, mentioning it to their mothers and putting their single friends' lives on prayer requests at their bible study group and in all night prayer chains. I am sure they believe that marriage is a blast and then some. And when we get there, we shall join in the crusade to eradicate "The Spinsterhood Disease" across the corners of the world.

Until then however, I shall continue to arrange my underwear drawer, eat salads infront of the TV, go to work, jog, plan for holidays, visit my relatives and all those other things that many married women think we can't do all our lonely selves. Do I want to get married? Of course. Some day. But I can wait for the right person while still living my life.

I walk, I run and THEN I sleep

2014-03-06T13:14:00.000+03:00

My body has been doing crazy things of late. Maybe its my new advanced age or its the various changes I have made with my lifestyle in the past couple of months. But I can attest, this here my body, is not my own. To put it in brief, all functions of my body have changed, shifted base completely. I am so worried, I have no idea what my body will do next. Mind over matter, they say, but this matter has gone and got a mind of its own.

First, the sleeping patterns. I used to have a pretty decent sleeping patterns. I slept at night and during meetings. Other hours were decently distributed between, working hard, traveling to and from work and yawning. But I could hold an intelligent conversation between 8am and 8pm. I had my routine down pat that was unless I went out, then my whole weekend would go to rubbish. However, now, I sleep promptly at 2pm. I dread every afternoon conversation, I hate my machine after any meal and I have to slap myself severally before I start cooking my supper. In fact, I have made a point to never sit or lean on anything when I am preparing supper. Self poisoning is not how I think I should go. Now, I have to fight sleep at clubs, meetings, my desk, the bus home, the drive to town and pretty much any other time in between.

Then there's the random weight shifting. Any small change in weather and my weight is shifting upwards like a well-trained conman. Who would have thought that a day would come that nothing at all would fit me....including my sleeping shirt. This is after decades of wearing the same pair of jeans (I loved those jeans). Now I stare at them with shame and nostalgia. But in a counter effort, I have started running...everywhere. I run to lunch, I run to the market, I run to the butcher....Maybe I should make a point of running away from these food vendors. But all these wild running has started paying off. Yay effortful me!! I now fit into my t-shirts with ease, and my shorts don't go into hiding every time they here the wardrobe door open. In another month or so, I expect to be wearing those midriff bearing clothes I saw Lupita in. No matter what shape I am in, my dreams are valid!! I believe.

However, all these foolish running I have been engaging in has not been good on my bones or my water bill. But I shall discuss the bones first. The muscles are trying their darnest to keep these bones up and running and not doing a great job at it. I have started feeling pains. Pains I cannot adequately describe in words....or actions.....or sounds. But the sounds usually come close to describing the emotions my body is trying to express. AAAAAARGH! OUCH! OUCH! I now have official knee, back, clavical, waist and feet pain. Some days it gets so bad, that it hinders my night sleep which only pushes my afternoon naps to morning hours and then that whole day becomes useless and I end up pouring, hitting and soaking everything in any nearby liquids. My colleagues are beginning to believe I have a condition. This belief is only useful when I need a day off. Other times it is just a drag. Literally and figuratively.

So because of all this pain and the cold I am consistently picking up on my evening run, I have embarked on a cooking spree where I feed myself organic, almost fat free, almost vegeterian, boiled food. Sometimes when I have disliked my underwhelming food antics so much, I substitute my efforts with fruits from the local fruit vendor. However, she is constantly being kicked out by those pesky Chinese road builders. ~~Hawa watu wa barabara watatumaliza~~. I did suggest to her to give one of the superviors her best come hither look. She thought I was joking. I don't know why. So there are days I excitedly go running towards her and find not even the structure of her shop is there. And so I walk back and boil more vegetables and watch something that will make the food taste better, like Friends or Big Bang or the Kardashians (don't judge me!)After that I sleep.

I now have to go for yearly and half yearly medical check-ups just to make sure my body is functioning properly. So I am adamant that the doctors shall find a healthy, bouncy teenage inside this body.Beaten and slightly bruised, but a teenager none the less. Yes, I shall walk and run and sleep my way to health.

I have been obsessing over this song lately. My change in taste of music is another change I cant explain.

Live, or Die trying

2014-02-21T13:41:00.001+03:00

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” -Hunter S. Thompson, "Gonzo"

We lost a friend. By 'we', I mean a whole bunch of us. He was one of those. He knew alot of people and alot more people knew hm. I hadn't seen him in years. He moved towns, then we chatted for abit after that and then it fizzled out. But his stories, told by people who actually kept in touch, ~~were~~are legendary. He ate life with a big spoon. Sometimes not the right meal, or even from the right plate, or even in the right restaurant, but eat he did. There are people you meet who instantly make your day. You probably, like me and my friend, meet once in a millenia, but you feel like life is a little more worth living after that. He is, unfortunately, not the only person of that nature who has left a larger than life hole and he will not be the last. The stories come through all the time. Quietly, without warning, someone so alive, skids broadside in a cloud of smoke into a grave, and leaves us to our dreary, rules ridden lives. We weep for a day, maybe a few months and then we forget. We forget and go back to life as we knew it. Complaining at every turn about things we could change, crying about things that shouldn't matter and screaming about things we can't change. Then someone else has to go and then cycle repeats itself. And no change ever occurs.

I don't blame humanity for its forgetfulness. Because, we cannot be sad forever, trying to hold on to the legacy of the greats. We can't live through other people forever. But we can improve and purpose to stay improved. We can increase the size of our spoons slightly, reach out a little bit further, see something different just once, clean out a bad habit a little bit. Just one small thing. One tiny thing. Lately I have been mildly ~~obsessed~~ fascinated with experiencing different things, wanting to travel to new places, having new experiences, experimenting with new cooking skills, etc, (mostly I just read on them) so I have been combing the internet for Kenyans who are doing awesome stuff, pushing their limits and what not.

http://www.expeditioneverest.org/ <<-- This guy who is going to be the first Kenyan EVER to do Everest. And for a good cause too. He is doing it for Sanitation in Kibera (dubbed: Toilet Hackers. Do Epic Shit). Wouldn't you want to just disappear and go to the most quiet place in the world. Just you, your thoughts and the most brutal terrain in the most brutal conditions. Imagine the stories....and the toilets. E.P.I.C http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com/ <<-- This one here is going to South America for one and half months, just because she can. She wants to explore the world on a shoe string budget with her belongings on her back. She has apparently done Europe and loved it so much, she immediately started planning south America. Oh, she has also written a book. (I saw it on the website)What talent of yours have you explored lately?!! Have you let someone else see it?! Such a shame. http://jubileeride2013.org/ <<-- Then there were these 7 'not particularly young' men who went to South Africa and back on motor bike for 50 days to sponsor 50 children through 4 years of High School. They took a big leap to do what they love and got invited to State House for it. And from what I gathered, to almost every embassy, along the way.... Have you met the president by just living your life? Well, have you? https://www.facebook.com/Africa2Brazil?fref=ts << -- Then there's my friend's fiance who is currently on a 200 day road trip to Brazil. His logic....he loved Brazil when he lived there and Africa is now officially home so the trip by road to the world cup was the most ideal way for him to pay tribute to his 2 favourite places. He is now hanging out with eagle hunters in Mongolia. Some people see these things on TV and, some take themselves to Mongolia

The more I feel like I need to live a little more, the more I realise people are living a little more everywhere. The friend who left her job and is now exploring Scandanavia. (The 2 events were quite unrelated!Lucky how things fall into place) Her photos show nothing but pure joy. The friends who start businesses and put everything they have in them but the kitchen sink.The ones who lose everything and rise like phoenixes to ridiculously great heights, the ones who pursue their talents,one tiny step at a time. But the thing about these people who truly live their lives, is that their lives are not full of complaints and pessimism. If it can be visualised, it can be done. Find a solution or move on. Don't dwell and drag everyone down with you. Whether it is hitting on the hot girl in the club, or planning a larger than life trip or just trying out new food or a new place for the first time....anything is possible.

So maybe, as I preach oceans of water, I will take a small sip of wine and go home and watch TV and read some more on epic people. (rumour has it, a small start-up just sold for $19B. I think I will read about that) Well, because I am not yet ready for my big spoon moment and have no idea how to hold a spoon that big. O_O But I don't want to reach the end and have regrets about things I should have done, opportunities I should have pursued, people I should have forgiven or loved or left.... Life only comes once, so Let yourself be a little happier. Do something you really enjoy at least once every so often. why not live life.....or die trying

My one absolute truth

2014-01-10T11:07:00.001+03:00

I have been saved a long time. Well, not very long...Almost 3 years now (2 years, 10 months, 16 days to be exact). I know it doesn't show a lot in my day to day living but I am. In those 3 years since I took my literal leap of faith, a whole deal in my life has changed. Internally mostly, externally.....well, I did put on kilograms like I haven't before in my life. Here is why....I am an incessant worrior. Or rather I was. I worried about everything. I worry about my future, my past, my friends' past,my neighbours' cats, the global financial crush, the state of the ice in Antarctica, will I drown in it before I freeze over? was the movie 2012 and WallStreet based on true events? Where would that leave me? When I worried, I never ate, so I became this little skinny thing. I loved the flat stomach, but truthfully, I didn't love much else.

As I looked back 'not-to-fondly' on my 2013 and looked even less fondly at the 'not-so-flat-stomach", I realised, I have become quite a happy human being. And for a few moments it confused me. I had never known myself to be just happy. Ever. Last year, being unpredictable as it was, I barely worried about anything. With the slow but sure growth into my trust in God, I had slowly but surely learnt to give up my worries to Him....almost completely and He covered me every step of the way. I figured it was time for someone else to carry the worries of the world off my shoulders. I was not Obama or Oprah. I could not even love and protest like Eric Wainana. So I let it go. Most of it at least. Well at least 50% of it. I did enter 2014 with financially much less than I had as I entered 2013 but I entered 2014 knowing with one absolute truth that 2 years 10 months and 16 days ago, I made the most honest and truthful step in my life. I made a decision that was over and above who I was.

So here is my absolute truth for my decade 2014-2024 (when I shall be celebrating my 30th 10th anniversary ), my God lives and He loves me absolutely. Everything else in my life is a variation of that truth. My family, my friends, my career, myself are all variations of that. Even when I am at my worst...~~and many many times, I am at my worst~~... He has shown me that he is reliable, trustworthy and truthful. All of me has now just started accepting that truth.

So what do I expect of 2014...That I will be able to surrender everything, every plan, every thought and every decision to God. I am a slow learner (it has taken me 3 years to get here) but there is hope for us all and it is a hope I am willing to hold onto in 2014. I shall walk in that absolute truth or at least I shall try my best.

The 3 Little Piggies

2014-01-08T12:45:00.003+03:00

A children story is told of the 3 little pigs who were running away from the big bad wolf. For reasons only known to the three little pigs, maybe family in-fightings or ethnic discord, they decided that instead of building one strong house, they shall build 3 different houses. If you have read the story you know that other than 3 houses being hopelessly expensive (but of course maybe the pigs came from wealth), 2 pigs ended up losing their lives and the last one lived a snobbish life in the brick suburbs. Here's the story of my 3 little pigs.

1st little pig: He who refused to go back to his house of straw: So a few months ago, I declared the end of my dating drought. It had been 2 years plus since I had gone off and discovered myself, I was now happy, I liked my life and I was ready to take this new me to the next level. So, I jockingly call a friend and announce my new decision to come back to the world. It wasn't meant to be anything serious really but my friend was attending some office drink up near my place. Best foot put forward, face oiled to a vaseline shine, I was stepping out. In retrospect, I should probably not have put on that vaseline since it attracted the fast-talking piggie from the house of straw. He seemed pretty decent, had a face only a mother and a handful of women could love but he was quite decently tall. But whatever I was drinking thought it could overlook little annoying things....like the fact that he always talked over me, that he had a very short chin line etc etc. Blame the dim lighting and the secondary smoke, but I let him crash over at my place. The next morning, I shower, dress up, run errands, come back and this little piggie was still asleep. I really should have taken him seriously when he said "You know I once cashed at my cousin's for 4 days".Which grown man does that? After much probing, I got him out and realised that this will not do. It will not do at all. His story continues shortly though..........

2nd little pig: He who built his house with sticks of lies: A few weeks later of listening to the pig that hurried my conversations, came this little piggie and boy, was he a cute little piggie. Painted by the very hand of God himself. We are not all created equally people. This was the gene pool mother load. Why he has not considered a career in modelling is beyond me. He would mint a fortune. He is quite brilliant too, but he talked sooo slowly but it was cool, at least he was funny. After weeks of talking everyday and not meeting, one sunny Sunday morning, he called and said, he shall be coming over. I was like surely it can't be any worse than the first little pig. He came and he was almost too pretty to look at. It started well enough. We hang out, we talked, we flirted. Then came the constant dodginess. We always hang out at my place (I used to drop him off at a busstop), I got called at very specific times, we were talking about me alot (contrary to popular belief, talking continously about myself makes me a tad uncomfortable). The red flag was up, my 6th sense soldiers were saluting and putting their guns on the ready. When he became overly dodgy, he eventually told me there is a woman somewhere. I picked up my bag and quietly closed the door behind me. If there was a woman, then he's just a bastard. If there wasn't, then he is a bastard and a liar. I felt slightly disrespected. We talk sometimes,say hi sometimes, even wished each other a merry christmas, but I took apart his house and made firewood. A fire is the most reliable source of warmth, or so I hear.

........Back to piggie number 1: Let's burn this house down: So a few weeks into house of lies, I saw piggie number 1 crossing the street. Courtesy told me to call and check up on him. Courtesy should have been on leave that day. After exchanging pleasantries, I hang up and continued living my sedentary life. That evening Mr. short chin calls and says he is waaay to drunk to drive home, could he come over and crash on the couch. I am not stupid to think he really meant he wanted to sleep but courtesy being on overdrive that day, I say why not. And anyway, who wants the blood of a drunk driving accident on her hands? 5 minutes later, he walks in and yes he was drunk as a skunk. This little piggie cannot sleep on the coouch/this little piggie cannot sleep on the floor/this little piggie cannot sleep in the guest bedroom. Not with the door locked, and not with the door open. This little piggie was screaming out for his blood to be spilled by the Nyeri woman. Hours later, I make sure he's settled in on the couch asleep and I go to bed. A few hours after that, I feel something climb into MY bed. The nyeri woman had been woken up and she was not well pleased. She huffed and she puffed AND SHE BURNT THAT HOUSE DOWN!! and she was well pleased.

3rd little pig: He who is at the kiln burning bricks: After a few days of deep, relaxing breathing, motivational talks and wondering why I had decided to rejoin this shameless world. I was doing so well by myself. The only stress I got was from me, the only lies I heard were my own. Then came this lovely little foreign piggie. And now this little foreign pig is sneaking his way as I try to sweep away the ashes of his 2 unfortunate friends.I can feel him bringing in brick by painstaking brick. Although I have to admit, it's nice not to have to worry too much about things. It's a comfortable existence so far and I am enjoying it. I know he's pretending to help me sweep while all the while he builds his brick house around me but...oh well!YOLO!!! He may not have enough mortar to build, he may decide to bring down the house himself and carry his bricks away. I may just end up being who I am and burn the house down but I do wish him all the best in his endevours and ~~*secretly I do wish he doesn't have any strange habits so that he can keep me safe from the cruel world a little longer*~~ the big bad wolf said in a whisper.

The lessons I have learnt in the years since I decided to self discover, and the very short experience of dating is: I can only have solid brick layers in my life. I don't want collectors of sticks and straws. I cannot deal with that particular brand of weakness.... I really just can't.

7 Habits of a highly effective me

2013-12-04T11:34:00.002+03:00

“ The real measure of your wealth is how much you'd be worth if you lost all your money. ” — Anonymous

Today I woke up to an article on the 13 things successful people DO NOT do. I have been struggling with my own definition of success for a while. After I made a decision that money is not the most important thing in the world, it started becoming increasingly elusive. Almost an "up your face" move by the money gods. ~~For shame money gods, For shame!!!~~ I have been going through a period of how best to redefine the importance and maybe more importantly the role money should play in my life. In the past few months, I have even begun reading on success stories, blogs, talks and such. Really listening and understanding their stories and their failures and their eventual successes. Lessons learnt, what they would have done differently and other etc's. I am still out there living frugalously (is that a word!o_O) and counting my pennies. But to be honest, I came across these safari rally guys in Voi on a Thursday and the only thing I could think was "I want to do whatever I want to do with my life when I'm 40. I don't want to be counting pennies and living frugulously." Move over money gods,I'm a girl on a mission. Now that I am well on my way to some sort of emotional health, it is time to work on my financial freedom.

So, some of the things this inciteful article told me about wildly effective and successful people is: They don't spend countless hours feeling sorry for themselves, they don't waste time fearing change, they do not worry about things they cant control (lost luggage, traffic, other people...especially other people), they do not make the same mistake over and over again,they do not resent other people's success among other tings.

I am still very far from an even semi-decent idea on how I am even going to go about this but I am leaps and bounds from where I started from. Maybe not financially, but definitely psychologically. I admire those people who wake up in the morning and purposefully buy the paper to check the stock market and read the business inserts. I buy my newspaper for the Andy Capp cartoon (I know. I am very ashamed.) But mentally, I have began shifting. If my country is celebrating its Jubilee, I should also be singing from the roof tops on what I have achieved. Not standing on the sidelines waving a tired flag, watching other people's successes and being all snooty hippie about the non importance of money. I want to go for a safari rally on a Thursday dammit.

I know that money is not the definition of success but there are some things I have always believed I will have in my older age that cannot be bought by cowrie shells and beads collected during my moments of meditation by a barely clean Nairobi river. So, with this new mind set, I have embarked on "The 7 habits of a highly effective person":

Habit 1: Be Proactive. Take initiative in life by realizing that your decisions (and how they align with life's principles) are the primary determining factor for effectiveness in your life. Take responsibility for your choices and the consequences that follow.

So after a rather fatal financial blow and a stint of self pity, I am back in business,albeit cautiously....very cautiously...but back nonetheless. I have licked my wounds,I have had a strong talk with my business operandi and given them many disappointed looks. Onward Christian soldiers,we shall march on. Proactively. But the biggest reason,I have decided to continue is because I really like what I do and life had gotten a bit empty and quiet since I stopped. Yes we shall march on.

Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind. Self-discover and clarify your deeply important character values and life goals. Envision the ideal characteristics for each of your various roles and relationships in life.

I have the whole plan in mind and I have decided to dedicate this month to writing it down somewhere on a piece of paper and I shall put this valuable paper where I keep important documents like my birth certificate and log book (technically, I just give things to my parents and they keep them somewhere....but I know for a fact, they never get lost.) Write the goal down and plan the trip there. :-) And then pray hard. On your knees and prostate on the ground and loudly then get to work.

Habit 3: Put First Things First. A manager must manage his own person. Personally. And managers should implement activities that aim to reach the second habit. Covey says that rule two is the mental creation; rule three is the physical creation.

What are my priorities. Financial freedom, other people's welfares, to tell people I am rich,what, what woman?!! This must be the hardest habit for me to pick up. My mind gets so easily derailed and discouraged. And though this may take all of my time,I shall achieve. First things first,you say...so be it.*waves determined finger in the air*

Habit 4: Think Win-Win. Genuinely strive for mutually beneficial solutions or agreements in your relationships. Value and respect people by understanding a "win" for all is ultimately a better long-term resolution than if only one person in the situation had got his way.

THIS.IS.SPARTA. That is all.

Habit 5: Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood. Use empathic listening to be genuinely influenced by a person, which compels them to reciprocate the listening and take an open mind to being influenced by you. This creates an atmosphere of caring, and positive problem solving.

It is easy to assume that I am always right. Though this may be the case,sometimes, it is good to understand that other people's opinions and knowledge are just as important. Self importance makes for a lonely life.

Habit 6: Synergize. Combine the strengths of people through positive teamwork, so as to achieve goals no one person could have done alone.

As the saying goes,no man is an island,much as he may try. Finding people who can not only do things I can't, but also strengthen my weaknesses is bound to make me a better person I think. They keep saying it in those wedding type shows so I guess it must be true for all the other parts of life. Come on life,let's make a great team.

Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw Balance and renew your resources, energy, and health to create a sustainable, long-term, effective lifestyle. It primarily emphasizes exercise for physical renewal, prayer and good reading for mental renewal. It also mentions service to society for spiritual renewal.

Yeah. What the book said.

5 degrees of separation

2013-11-04T12:49:00.000+03:00

Like all other losses in life, when a relationship is over and done with, the "lefted" person goes through some form of withdrawal anxiety or stages of separation. The "leftee" however, walks away in pure ignorance. Well, not always.....actually they know exactly what they have done. So no excuses there. I experienced this, for what felt like the first time again, a few weeks ago with this chap who I seemed to have a secret relationship with. So secret infact was this relationship, that I didn't know of its existence, until, well, a few weeks ago. So, before I could say "Say what now.." to the said chap, he went into a rambling of sorts and I got to experience what it feels like to go through what I now call, the 5 stages of separation, in 10 minutes or less. It was a strange experience at best and a very, very uncomfortable, ridiculous experience that I would not want to go through again. However, I would like to assure the general public that it is apparently a normal reaction among the human race to go through these stages and also to run away when someone starts reacting this way.

1. Denial and Isolation: The first reaction on learning that a perceived love will not be returned is to deny the reality of the situation. It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions and it is unimaginable that the other half does not feel the same. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock. Statements such as "I know we can work this out and you could love me if you give me a chance" can be heard from grown men who eat their opponents for lunch in board rooms. Other tell tale signs are "No one will ever love you like I do". "He'll roam everywhere but he will still come back to me." Stalker like tendencies may be spotted during this period. The person you once knew transforms into a sneaking, begging hobo. Usually the saddest stage.

2. Anger: As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear off, the reality and the pain re-emerge. The "lefted" is not ready. The anger may be aimed at inanimate objects, complete strangers, friends or family but in most cases, it is deflected to the "leftee". Rationally, the person knows it is not entirely the fault of the leftee. Maybe 98% but never 100%. Emotionally, however, we may resent the person for causing us pain or for leaving us even if it was a toxic relationship. The strangest thing about this stage is the guilt that keeps sneaking in at the most inopportune times. One minute, "How could you do this to me? Do you know how many women I had to fight off for you?" is quickly followed by "I'm sorry babe, I never meant to throw that plate at you. I will be a better person. You make me a better person" Showers shall not be taken, hair shall not be combed, foam shall froth from mouths and bucketloads of tears will be seen in the open streets. Beware of any person in the anger stage. This stage cannot be rushed. The "lefted" is grieving and it will take anything from a few seconds to decades.

3. Bargaining: This is the "if only" stage. Maybe she likes a guy with an earring, a girl who doesn't wear weaves, I should wear higher shoes, I should have been a robot and loved video games and football and porn, I should watch more Sandra Bullock. If only ... If only ... If only ... You will start noticing subtle changes. The earring, the punk haircut, the natural hair, excessive exercising,a longing stare at a game of "whatever rubbish people are playing now" . They are quietly hoping that when they meet up, the "leftee" will see what they have been missing all along. Oh, and they'll be alot of hanging out at the "leftee" joints. The clubs, near the office, at the friend's...... The stalker tendencies return with a vengeance. A strong vengeance!!! Be afraid, be very afraid.

4. Depression: Two types of depression are associated with dumping. The first one is a reaction to practical implications relating to the actual loss. Sadness and regret predominate this type of depression. They worry about that they will never be loved again, that it may be too late to heal, and many other irrational thoughts like that. The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is the quiet preparation to separate and say goodbye so they bury themselves in work, rebounds, hobbies, alcohol, anything to get away from the feeling of pain. Alot of wrong decisions will take place here. Unwanted diseases may be caught, rebounds will be picked up and dropped off, too much work will be done, if you're lucky though, you may get a much needed promotion at work.

5. Acceptance: Reaching this stage is a gift not afforded to everyone. It is not necessarily a mark of bravery to resist the inevitable and to deny ourselves the opportunity to make our peace BUT very few people reach the point of forgiveness and moving on. Better people are met in this stage, genuine smiles can be seen, the "lefted" no longer look so lefted anymore. They are willing to take the good and the bad and move on to better things.

Jar os Hearts - Christina Perri

This is 30!!!

2013-10-29T13:02:00.002+03:00

Disclaimer: This is not a very well thought out post. That said, here goes:

Here are some things I thought I would have a achieved by 30: 1. a big salary that would buy me a large farmhouse in the suburbs and a large car to take me there. 2. a couple of big degrees that would make me relevant to everyone in the human race.....and I do mean everyone. Children, old people, watchman.... 3. a hot and handy husband and a bunch of well behaved children that adore every single breath I take.

Of course this was my dream when I was 10...~~and maybe 25~~ but very little has changed from the big dream and most of it still remains a dream. Most of it has however been readjusted to accommodate the stark reality that I have come to live with..... and with it the question "Is this what you wanted to be when you grow up?"

In a couple of days, I switch over to the big 3-0. I am officially all grown up. No excuses, no dilly dallying, no procrastinating. I am supposed to have caught up with alot of my dream by now. THIS IS 30. (include a spartan kick into a dark well of nothingness and forgotten dreams). I wanted to be brilliant at everything and just be straightening up some few rough edges and sought after by the world and sitting on Oprah's couch giving life inspiring advice to less than important natives. I'm sure there are some 30 year olds out there doing remarkable and amazing things but from where I stand, most people are like me....wondering through the 30 year old mark wondering if this is it. If this is what we went to school for and practiced for hours for and went through the heartbreaks for.

I am personally not a big fan of my birthday. Most years I prefer that it gets eaten up in a blur by other more important days. I don't have anything against the day of my birth other than a deep reminder that another year has passed and I'm barely making my way through the muddle that is my life. Years just seem to be sneaking past me while I'm still preparing to live. It freaks me out that another decade will come and go and I'll still be like "wha...whe....huh!" So in that same spirit, I drove myself into a panic attack yesterday that got me walking out of a conference and making it half way home before my legs gave in and I had to get into a jav. I was in distress, I was scared, I was panicking. I cursed for all of the one hour, 10min of that walk.My brain was screaming profanities at me. I thought quarter life crisis was a state of mind and not the disease like event that I was experiencing. This year brought with it a stronger distaste in my mouth than ever before. I am grown people, and it is not as exciting as I pictured it. I am not flying the skies nor has Oprah been to see me once this year. I still have hope though. I have some very important things to tell her.

But all panic notwithstanding, in retrospect, life has not been too mean to me. I cannot sit and say that I have achieved absolutely nothing...at all. I have friends and family that I love and who hopefully love me back. I have developed a grace for handling difficult situations (I call it diplomatic avoidance. It is much better than the running away I have been doing in the past). I have climbed Mt. Kenya and Kilimanjaro and other fun things like that, I have learnt a lot about handling relationships and even more about what I want from them and I realised that this little lesson was very very important. Maybe the most important of them all. I have started understanding what are the important things in life. I know this will sound super cliche, but God, family and friends in that order, make life worth living. More, in some days than others. Money took a distant 6th place.... (I ranked them)

There are blunders that I continue to make.....with surprising frequency if I do say so myself, but they do not compare to the joy I get from telling the story to people who will appreciate the humour of it all. And they do bring me down a necessary notch or 12. So anything new from me as I celebrate another decade? probably not. Life shall continue as is. This is the year of no resolutions. Live and let live. I do not intend to expect too much of myself this year. The pressure doesn't seem worth it anymore. Don't get me wrong, I am not going to sit around and wait for the world to eat me alive, no! I will just not hold myself responsible when things don't work out like I want them to. I do not intend to apologise for things I cannot change. I want to take my ambitions down from their high unapproachable horse and just enjoy life for a year and see what happens. Test to see if the world will fall off its axis if I don't plan how every single moment will turn out. Let the chips fall where they may. I have been addicted to ambition and achievements so far but now I say:

Happy birthday self! This year will be the most epic yet! :D And another favourite this year: Daughtry - Waiting for Superman

My daughter

2013-09-20T14:07:00.001+03:00

A few people I know have gotten the previledge of getting daughters. Part of their flesh and blood. A continuation of the legacy that was passed onto them by their parents and their parents' parents. I have also had the pleasure of listening to fathers talk about their daughters. The pride they have in their voices just make me want to give that pleasure to a special, deserving man out there. It makes me want to have a daughter.

My family is not particularly fond of bringing forth girls to the world. The women drop boys in quick succession and then hopefully, somewhere in the flurry, a little gem of pink shall squeeze through shyly into the world. I was one of the few flurries of pink that overcame. (hail the princess.......enough!!)So talking as a daughter to parents who I hope speak of me with pride in the streets. In fact, I hope they stop strangers on the street and tell them about my general awesomeness and beauty. I want to let another little girl come onto the world and know that everything will be alright. That her mum and dad will be there for her and no matter what, she can be anything, anywhere in the world.

I want a daughter who I can torture into learning to prepare edible food because my mother ensured that I shall not starve when left by myself and neither of course will the boys, her husband included. My mother expected only the best of me and still does. To push myself to a place only I can, to go to places only I can and to be grateful for every step I take in the right direction. I want my daughter to learn all these things and much more. I want a daughter who I can pass on my Nyeri roots and genes to. A girl who does not understand the meaning of nonsense and mediocrity. A girl with a personality of gold. I really don't care whether she is like me or not, I just want her to know that it is alright to be who she is and to make no apologies for who she is.

But most of all, I want a daughter who will have a father like mine. A man who will have such high standards that nothing but the best men shall be accepted into her life. That she shall judge all men with a haughty disposition because she understands what a good man ought to be. A father who carries her high up on his shoulders and listens to her amble on about her dreams. I want her to sit with her father for hours and discuss things that are important and mundane because she should never fear a man, least of all her father. I want her to be friends with the one man who will protect her from everything humanly possible and teach her how to protect herself. A man who will teach her how to be stronger than breaking hearts and immature men. Bigger than insecure bosses and weak bullies who have nothing better to do in life. A man who will teach her to fear no one but God.

"A son is a son till he gets a wife; a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life." - Unknown

I want a daughter who will teach us everything in this world that we have refused to learn. Like responsibility and accommodation and forgiveness. Because if the rumours are true, and my personal experience is anything to go by, she shall push each and every sore button that I have and then some. A girl who will teach me about the change in fashion and gossip loudly about boys when she thinks I'm not listening. I want a daughter I can take for shopping so that I can choose for her clothes that she will never wear. I want a daughter who will teach me how to take risks and walk on the edge. Who will make me protective to a point of delirium. I will buy a gun, or at least a machete which I will be sharpening occasionally. And then I shall give it to her father who shall carry it around menacingly every time a boy visits. I shall be asking of his ill intentions through the grill door and I shall embarrass my daughter every chance I get. Because that's what mothers who love their daughters do.

But being the little pink peg in a field of blues, I also want a bus load of boys because which mother doesn't want unconditional love from her me. Many boys of my own who will protect my little girl when I am not there. Who will understand the lingo of the day and scare every idiotic boy who shows his ill mannered upbringing and makes lop sided advancements to my baby. Boys who will drive her to her wedding, pick her up from the airport ~~(or the hospital when she doesn't want me to know)~~, stand awkwardly around her awkwardly when she cries ~~(or throws up)~~ and threaten to kill anybody who hurts her. But especially, to teach her about life in ways I never could. A daughter who will have everything she could ever ask for. Who will feel protected and loved and provided for.

That daughter of mine shall be one heck of a lucky girl.

Snippets and advicements

2013-09-12T11:33:00.000+03:00

As I approach another decade in my life, I have started putting alot of things in perspective. Life does change over time. It gets better, it gets worse but t changes. And how I react to the changes will determine my future....alot. So now I am more patient, I listen more (I was always quiet but I can't say that I ever really listened), I am less worried abut weight fluctuations, I am more content with the changes, work or otherwise. Anyway, in my quest for good, day to day advice, I came across a facebook page that had the most interesting advice I had heard in a while. Sometimes you get into a page and 2 minutes later regret it. But on rare occassions, you land on a page that actually teaches you something. So here are a few pieces of grand wisdom. I read it for a couple of hours. Its nice to hear real life experiences. They are not out to teach you anything,just to tell their story. Eventually, it makes you feel better. Like you can survive anything.

"If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?" "Try your best to deal with life without medicating yourself." "You mean drugs?" "I mean drugs, food, shopping, money, whatever. I ain't judging anybody, either. I was hooked on heroin for years. But now I've learned that every feeling will pass if you give it time. And if you learn to deal with your feelings, they'll pass by faster each time. So don't rush to cover them up, or you're never gonna learn." "Two of my friends committed suicide in a four month span. So I packed my bags and moved to the city, where I ran out of money, then got hit by a bus. Sometimes God slows you down. Sometimes he pumps the brakes." "If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?" "Enjoy it while it lasts." "What's something you wish you'd enjoyed more while it lasted?" "Raising my kids. I mean, they turned out well. So I raised them well in that sense. But I was always working. Even on a lot of weekends, I was working. When I was coming up, that's what the man was expected to do." "If you had spent more time with your family, do you think you'd regret not having progressed as far in your career?" ".... no." "I moved here because there was a lot I didn't like about myself in Pennsylvania. I knew everybody. And everyone knew me. I wanted a chance to not know anybody. And I wanted a chance for nobody to know me." "I grew up in foster care. My family was given money to spend on me, but they spent it all on themselves. I first got into fashion because I had to learn to make all my own clothes." "What was the happiest moment of your life?" "Europe in the summer of 1959." "What happened there?" "I was nineteen. I'd just lost 100 pounds and had a whole new set of clothes. I toured Paris and Rome and everyone was paying me so much attention. They were even asking for my photograph! Of course inside I still felt like an awkward, overweight girl. It was all so overwhelming and wonderful!" "Why'd you go to Europe?" "To have sex, of course. And I did! I was the first in my whole group of friends. I came home and told everyone that I'd done it with a charming Frenchman. In reality it was some creepy dude from Chicago." "It was very tough at first. Moving to a new country is like being born all over again. You are just like a baby. You can't speak, you can't move around, and you don't know the culture." "What's your greatest struggle right now?" "Imposed insecurity." "What does that mean?" "I spend a lot of time worrying about changes in things that I have no control over. Medicare, Social Security, things like that. I worry about my ability to grow old with dignity. They keep talking about cutting this, and taking that away. They shouldn't be springing that stuff on my generation. We did everything we were told to do. Spring that on a generation that has time to plan for it." "If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?" "Dare to be square in a round world. But don't steal that, it's copyrighted." "I lived in Poland, so we were persecuted from the first day of the war. First they took us from our home, then they put us in a ghetto, then they made us march, then they sent us to the camps. I was separated from everyone, but my brother later told me that my father froze to death. But I have children now, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren-- a great big family, all of them educated. Look at everything that came from just one person who escaped. Just goes to show that you can never kill a people with hate. There will always be someone left to carry on." "I was a special education teacher." "Do you remember a specific moment in your career when you felt like you made the biggest difference?" "Actually, I do. I was in Philadelphia, and teaching a class of children with IQ's between 50 and 80. Shortly into the school year, one of the class members dropped out, and the school replaced him with a new boy. So this little boy named David shows up at my classroom door, and I let him into the class, but I couldn't understand a word he was saying. For weeks, I couldn't make out a word. Luckily there was one girl in the class who could understand him, so she would translate everything for me. Then one day, I looked up from my desk, and noticed David reading a book on the floor. I knew that no 6 year old with an IQ below 80 was reading a book, so I walked up to him, and without saying a word, I closed the book. He looked up at me and screamed: 'Fuck you!' I was so happy that he'd said something I could understand that I picked him up and kissed him. We learned that he had a cleft palate, which we found a doctor to fix for free, and by the time I left the school, he was moving along just fine." "What's the most your life has ever been changed by an unexpected event?" "Probably when I lost my job, which led to a divorce." "How did a job loss lead to a divorce?" "A lot can be covered over by routine. So when there's a shock to the system, underlying fault lines and fissures can really open up." "You're either a good person or a bad person. It doesn't matter what color or what religion you are. You're good. Or you're bad."

And just to prove you can never please everyone: "My father was a very good man, but he had a lot of shortcomings. He was very singularly focused. He was an expert mason so he was very good at laying bricks. But he wouldn't apply his energies to anything else. I was very good with my hands too, but I was always wanting to try new things. But he'd always discourage me from attempting anything other than my field of study. I resented him for it." "How were you a different father to your children?" "I encouraged my children to try everything. So much so that they resented me for it."

Love for the 'Successful' woman ?

2013-08-26T12:42:00.000+03:00

Out of the exhaustion that is today, I decided to do something I never do.......I took one of those online tests that show your destructive love cycles or whatever. I figured, since I'm clearly not beating men off me with a stick, it would be nice to hear another person's opinion of what is going on. The voice I decided to choose was: "Love for Successful Women". Seeing as I am a moderately successful woman(I haven't died of starvation yet, so that should count as some sort of success!), this counted as a place I could seek wisdom and great advice from an oracle that could not look down on me with judgement but quietly chastise me from a distance for my bad decisions. So I took a 2 minute test (its always a 2 minute test, they never count the bathroom breaks, the minutes you spend trying to interpret what they could possibly be asking, or the lies you are trying to hide so that you can get a great score.) I scored a confusing 52 out of an even more arbitrary 100. I was inexplicably pleased with myself because my upbringing taught me that 50 is an acceptable passing grade. So here are a few things that my test revealed to me in a well written .pdf form that they sent to me afterwards.

The Externally Motivated Operating System (EMOS) is running your love life. EMOS may look like this — trying to change aspects about your partner; talking often to your friends and family about your problems and asking what they would do; blaming what happens on someone or something else instead of taking responsibility; not feeling fulfilled. Since you tend to be motivated by external factors, EMOS tends to make your relationship about everyone and everything else and not about you.

Well, I always thought I was a fairly selfish person in relationships. But I guess I could always try to be motivated by other external factors other than myself. But the one thing that they did get right though is that I have a hard time taking responsibilities in relationships. Why carry the blame, when there is 7 billion people, furniture, nature and the increasingly volatile economy to blame. Blame yourself only as a last resort. You’d like change to happen outside of you. You’re hoping your partner will change and then maybe you’ll change. You tend to react rather than respond.
~~Again I repeat, why carry the responsibility yourself~~.....hmmmm! But seriously though, this did make me think about how I handle myself around relationships. I sometimes do get a little lazy and that may not be very tactful or even helpful. You’re apt to hold tightly to a concept of how things should be. This means trying to control aspects of your relationship and partner to fit what you know and what you’re comfortable with. When you can’t control things, you’re left feeling uncertain, frustrated, upset, dejected, stressed and hopeless at times. This causes you to question and not trust yourself, your partner and your relationship with him.
This is mostly true. 'Bad girl Neemo. very bad girl' Slaps self on wrist. This may be contradictory from the statement above but I am a very complex human being. Approach with caution. If you want to change your habitual ways of thinking and being in love relationships, find someone who is already successful in the kind of love relationship you want. This will take you to love in a more direct and graceful way.
Is this woman/website/nerd advocating for me to go steal someone's man. *gasp* How dare? I think I have quite a bunch of friends who are in successful relationships so at least I am heading in the right direction or at least looking at it. However, I don't think I would like to hunt down their boyfriends for advice. EEEW! For shame website, For dear shame!!! * waves disappointed finger* Then the woman on the other side of the internet, gave some invaluable advice at the end: How ready are you to find true love? Your readiness level depends on how receptive you are to:  Take responsibility for your actions and behaviors.  Look within yourself and do the inner work.  Work through barriers knowing that there is not a quick fix.  Be courageous.
And then some more sensible words of wisdom after giving me her contacts (very efficient these ones):

1.Assessment Assess your past and current relationship patterns, how you show up in your relationships (i.e. role, behaviors, actions, etc.), relationship role models. Think about the type of partners you tend to attract and their common traits, expectations you have from your partner and relationship. What are your fears about love? How do you sabotage yourself and you relationships? What is your communication style? What have you tried so far to find true love? 2. Desired Outcome Define your ideal love relationship and expectations. Think about whom you want to become and what you want to be doing. Describe your ideal partner. Explain how you want to communicate, relate and feel. 3.Potential Barriers Identify obstacles (i.e. behaviors, thoughts, patterns, environment, things) that have kept you and could keep you from true love. For each obstacle, determine positive and productive ways to work around them. 4. Design a Winning Strategy and Action Plan Develop a strategy and plan based on how best to move forward. Be super clear about your desired relationship and partner. Determine sustainable ways to move forward after understanding the root causes that are holding you back.Develop recurring behaviors and activities that can be leveraged into becoming your authentic self. Create supportive and sustainable internal and external environments. Practice, reassess and readjust - repeat

And there you have it folks, my love relationship status in a few short words. I could use it as a CV to show just how much I have grown. I shall definitely strive to improve. PRACTICE, REASSESS, REPEAT.REPEAT.REPEAT.... deep breath. what I'm listening to now....