LOCOCOCOMOCO

BYE BYE BLOG SPOT

2010-05-14T00:39:00.000-07:00

Yours truly, The blogger formely (But still) know as Loco has shifted digz to wordpress. You may find me cavorting at naivenairobian.wordpress.com

Conversing with the inner you

2009-11-25T06:40:00.000-08:00

So, anyone who after reading the title expects some deep philosophical discourse, move along, there is nothing to see here!!

We all have our inner demons or angels. Persona's so to speak. Some more than others. personally, in the playground I have aptly named Loco's coco (My head), there resides a colorful cast of characters. With a few bunnies connoudling there and some intense divas coupled with some oddball weirdos and the occasional sadist, I can say with some degree of certainty that it's a few clowns short of a circus up there. However, I insist that I have a one up on that bitch from the United States of Tara. Why you ask? Because I've mastered the art of controlling my muppets. Haha, totally zenish right? "Sensei-Nisei!!!" This control however comes after a lot of practice and some intense inner dialogue. I present to you today one of the heart to hearts I've had with an inner me.

This particular inner me is one of the saner ones. In fact, she's down right dull and square. She's an old ditty hag named Dorothy who if left up to her own devices would live her life holed up on a chilly mountain somewhere in Andalusia with four cats and a cellar full of wines to keep her company. She (herein after christen Dot) is a sure lover of her wines and LOLcats.

The following is a conversation Dot and I had the other weekend.

Loco: Dot, would you like to pop by the mall with me and pick up a bottle of wine? We can stay in this weekend

*Clammerining and shouts of boredom from the other me's*

Loco: Aww zip it the rest of you or I'll get a lobotomy and Kick you all out!!

Dot: Yeah sure, sounds good.

Loco: Okay, lets go.

*Music, on the road again.....*

Dot: You know, you really shouldn't drive when you're thinking about so much stuff, you could cause an accident.

Loco: Dot, be a sport and shut the fuck up about my driving.

*We drive in silence till we get to the mall, one hour to closing time*

Loco: Since I'm here, I might as well grab a book. Need to stimulate the old noggin now and then.

Dot: Whatever

*I get into the bookstore and ask for Tom holt. the attendant scurries about to look for the supervisor to search for it*

Dot: You know they don't have it, you're wasting your time.

Loco: Shaddup

*Half an hour later, the reporter reports back from the bermuda triangle*

Supervisor: There's only one copy of the book.

LOco: (To Dot) Told you!! (To the supervisor) I'll take it.

Dot: Whatever

Supervisor: Oh, sorry maam, it's at the Damansara store.

*Note, this store is an hour hour, the eejit!!*

Dot: Told you

Loco: Shaddup!!!

There was a point to this post. I forgot it. Blame the ADD. But seeing as how all six of you who read this blog are very intelligent, I'm sure you won't be too hard pressed to figure out some moral of sorts in this :-)

Hand over your kidneys... And various internal organs

2009-10-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

I interrupt regular blogramming to bring to you this highly disturbing story.

Before you proceed I will acknowledge that some of you might be tempted to dismiss the story I'm about to post as a figment of some poor blokes overactive imagination. I assure you it's not. Many of us think that since such gruesome and horrifying things have not yet happened to those around us or those we love, then surely they musn't be true, so we take such stories with a grain of salt and proceed with business as usual. Up until recently i must admit I was of the same school of thought. But this particular incident happened to a friend's brother, and it reeled me into reality with a jarring thud. These things do happen, and they happen around us, turn a blind eye and it might be your brother, husband, or even you that it could happen to next.

The accounts below are from http://docs.google.com/View?id=dhj8sxzz_68gx3nh4gw Read on:

My Experience in the hands of kidnappers.

The above happened on the afternoon of the 21^st September 2009.

I had an appointment at my Barbershop at 14:20hrs which is on Kenyatta Avenue and arrived there at that time we had agreed. However since there were two people before me I waited for my turn. He was through with me at around 16:00hrs. There after I crossed over to Standard Street and was walking past Simmers Restaurant when I came across a pregnant lady who looked as if she was staggering and blood was dripping on her right leg. At that time I was talking to a friend of mine on my cell phone but asked to call him back since I was concerned by what I had seen. Upon sensing my concern the lady beckoned me and asked me to assist her get car which was parked a few meters from where we were standing. “Once there I will be fine”, is what she said. Since she looked desperate, I took it upon myself to assist her.

As we were walking toward the car we were approached by two men who were looked middle aged and were in sunglasses, calling out “Wanjiru/ Wanjiku”, can’t figure out which of the two it was, anyway they asked her what was wrong and that they were volunteering to take her to the hospital. One man opened the back door to the saloon car we were approaching so that I could help the woman seat down. Upon ensuring that the woman was comfortably seated on the backseat I felt a hard thing being pointed at my back, on looking back, I saw aone of the men who had opened the door holding a pistol to me, he then told me to get into the same car. Upon entry the same woman removed a cloth from her handbag and covered my mouth and nose.

That is all I remember because I blacked out and when I came to I was in a very dark room, half naked and shivering. Further scrutiny revealed that I only had my vest on. I initially thought I was dead but then I asked myself how come there was no light/any sign of life to show where I was. Anyway I started familiarizing myself with the place by touching the floor and wall behind me, in that process I touched something that felt weird and out of panic I let out a loud cry and to my shock came a voice from somewhere saying, “Huyo Ameamka”. That’s when I realized that I was somewhere enclosed since there were no windows/ any form of ventilation and there did not seem to be electricity since the room was pitch dark. I onlysaw a sign of life when the door was opened and a man walked in and from his attire, I got confused. (He was in a hooded mask, the ones that normally have two holes at the eyes, a black coat and black gumboots). Since there was light from where he had come, for the first time I was able to pick out at least five to six captives who were scattered across the room and were also half naked. He picked up one man by his hand, walked out and closed the door behind him. A few minutes/ an hour (I couldn’t tell the time) the man was brought back in. Since there was nothing much to do because routine was to wait for your turn to be picked, if not one would sleep and wake up much later when we would be fed with a one bite of a queen cake and a sip of soda.

As we were seated there all I could do was pray and ask God for a second chance in this life and also for his guidance. As time passed I heard the door open very fast and a man came in and asked the person who was seated near the door to wipe the mess she had made. Apparently she had gone for a short call thus she was asked to lick her mess since there was no one there to wipe it. She did try licking it but was defeated so the man started kicking her but I volunteered to help her that’s when the man stopped kicking her.

A few hours after that ordeal the same man, I presume, came back and picked me up. I was taken into what looked like an operating room where they connected some gadgets on my chest to check on my heart rate then smeared some liquid on my chest and stomach and checked what was in my body (like an ultrasound) lastly they took a sample of my semen then took me back to the usual room where were being kept. Kindly note that these tests were being done to everyone however there were some people who would go in and not come back. When that happened it would take a short while before you would hear people cutting something and sharpening of metals and drills then the whole room would be engulfed with the smell of blood.

Anyway I have no idea how long I stayed but when the usual pickup man came he was accompanied by another one. They came to inform me that my organs were worthless however they would not let me go before they got anything from me insinuating that they wanted to rape me. When the lady I had helped earlier heard what was transpiring she asked the men to go to her instead of taking me. She spoke rather graphically to convey that a lady is better than a man, rather sacrificing herself to be raped on my behalf. When I heard this I refused but the lady insisted and infact told me to shut up. When the men heard this they just laughed and walked out.

When they came again they dragged me out of the room, blindfolded and took me to another room where I was given my clothes to wear. I was then dragged outside the building or house. When we got to where the car was they removed their blindfold and took my handkerchief to use it as a blindfold. I was then put in the boot of a station wagon which looked like a Toyota Caldina. We then drove on a rough road for at least 30-45mins then got to the tarmac and again drove for again at least what seemed to be an hour and half. We were stopped twice at the traffic checks however they did not spot me inside the boot. When the vehicle finally came to a stop I was yanked out still blindfolded and told to walk and not look back. When the car sped off I quickly removed the blindfold and looked around. The first thing I saw was a matatu plying route 145 on further scrutiny of the area I realized that I was near Roysambu road about. On this realization I walked to Kasarani Police station.

When I got there the one thing I noticed was the watch which was reading 05:45hrs, Thursday 24^th. I then took my phone, switched it on and called my wife to inform her of where I was.(Kindly note that they did not take any of my possessions, which included my wallet, driving license and monies). The policeman on duty then recorded my statement on the OB(Occurrence book) then asked to wait for their boss to come since I had to explain the same to him. He did come and I was taken through the same procedure but it was made easierby the fact that my family rather my wife had personally told him that they were looking for me so when he asked me my name again and I answered he quickly jumped up andexclaimed “Praise Jesus” something I have not heard from the ordinary police and told me that they had been looking for me.

He quickly called my wife and mother as well to inform them that I was at the police station. Later on I recorded a statement with the CID in the same station thereafter I went to the hospital for a physical checkup. The same was done on the 25^th Friday and the good news is that after the results were out EVERY TEST done came out negative.

I sincerely would like to thank God for giving me a second chance in life, my very special wife for her support and love as well as my family, friends and colleagues for their prayers. I can’t thank my wife and everyone enough for the efforts they put as far as looking for me in hospitals, police stations and even mortuaries is concerned. Please keep safe and God bless each and every one of you and your families as well.

So you've read, as Kenyans should we allow this kind of insecurity to go unmentioned. Do we really want to live in fear of thieves, rapists, murders and as shown above the assorted organ harvesters? Blog about this, tweet it, facebook it, tell a friend, it might not be much, but our voices are our weapons. Don't let such occurences go unheard. Futhermore, what do you think should be done about the alarming insecurity being experienced on the streets of Nairobi?

Speak! Silence is no better than being an accomplice!

Bar philosophy

2009-10-05T22:06:00.000-07:00

Men are from mars women are from venus...Really?! Methinks not!! Take for example this conversation between two of my good friends that depicts clearly that Men are from a land far away made of rock and... err.. rock, and women are from a land maybe slightly closer made from unicorns and flowers and various assorted pretty objects:

Hatim: Fuck I'm so tired and stressed, I don't know what to do, I think I need to smoke some shit

Dana: You should take a bath...

Hatim: Are you saying I'm dirty??!!

Loco: *Dead*

Dana: Huh?! Why would you think I'm saying you're dirty?!

Hatim: You told me to take a bath!!

Loco: *Deader*

Dana: Yeah, because you said you're tired and stressed out...

Hatim: Huh?!

Loco: *Deadest*

Now you see why mars and venus cannot possibly be an accurate depiction of the light years of mileage between women and men...

Soundtrack:
Fade - Solu Music feat Kimbele

On my wall:
The Dot - Loco arts

On my bookshelve:
A thousand splendid suns - Khaled Hossein

Oh noeeeesss!

2009-07-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

For a long time I've been writing amateur poetry, spoken word and such (Read, very awful roses are red derivatives). However, I am very shy when it comes to reading these pieces out loud. The kind of shyness that comes from stripping your self bare and leaving a very personal piece of you exposed to strangers to be poked and prodded, kind of like going to the gynecologist..... However at the end of this week I will perform for the first time one of my pieces in front of a live audience. Besides the feeling that I might be strutting into a firing squad with KISS MY ASS emblazoned on my chest, I'm strangely okay with it. But before I do the firing squad let me present the piece to the blogosphere first and face your criticism, it might help me decide whether or not to go on stage and publicly embarass myself or just hide out in my cozy writng closet as I've always done..... Here goes...

The smoker

They say religion is opium for the masses and I smoke because it is a universal religion, where we the shunned subscribe to the credo of “Pass me the light” and hail the motto “Sharing is caring” where we the unconventional convene in our unholy convents of the smoking rooms of airports and roam the confines of smoking areas in public spaces to puff in solidarity knowing no judgement amongst each other, just as there is no honour amongst thieves, puffing away in this our religion that cannot viably distract the sinner from destruction.

Pass me the light

I smoke because I can and because that declaration makes you think of things to ask me like why I don’t jump off a bridge just because I can, and because my answer to that is that, if you compare and contrast the pleasure factor of crushed bones versus crushed tobacco, they cannot be held equal on any scale including that of lady justice.

Pass me the light

Hell, I smoke just because I think it looks sexy and because I am not willing to beg your pardon for my sincere sentiments that this sizzling ciggie sucked upon by my lipsticked lips shall not succumb to the sexism suggested by the societal standards about what a woman should or should not do, just a precedence was presented by the proactive women of 1929 as they puffed prettily down the paths of newyork torching for freedom, so shall I perpetuate their policies deemed as feminine perspective.

Pass me the light

And just as you presumptively prognosticate that I’m wounding my lungs I hereby verily declare that there are pros and cons to this wont you demonise and so I smoke because I chose instead to I heal my mind diagnosed with overload and prescribed the potion “Calm the fuck down”

Pass me the light

So Pass me the light even as you deem me a cretin, pass me the light even as you preach and chastise, pass me the light and let me ignite the doom you say, pass me the fucking light and let me smoke in peace for this essay is at an end.

Amuleto by Crystal Jade

2009-06-28T21:04:00.000-07:00

I was going to do a review of a fantastic restaurant that I went to. Amuleto by crystal Jade. I had it all written in my head. How the service was unbelivablly good, and the food was so tasty I almost dreamt about it last night, how the music was fantastic and the wine just rounded it off, and mostly how it was affordable. Haha, funny how words just fly out of my head when I start thinking bout the things I don't want to think about.

This is not one of the times I'll try to craft an elaborate post full of wit or metaphors and whatnot. Because right now I'm feeling stripped bare. I suppose this is how Adam and Eve felt when they did the naughty nookie wookie and realised they were butt nekkid. Vulnerable, confused, ashamed, abit jaded maybe with a smitten of regret and a tinge of a rosy blush to round off this unholy cocktail of emotion.

Ha, emotion. No wonder I used to scoff at the word, because it involves feeling, and feeling makes you do things which lead to other feeling later and it becomes one unending convoluted cycle of feelingness. But true to form I never listen to the inner me, Oh no never, I ignore all that tells me not to feel and go right ahead and do the deed... I feel.

Of late, I've been a horrid person. I've been a bad friend, daughter, sister, girlfriend, colleague, Hehe, and you can imagine how it makes me feel knowing I'm letting down everybody who dares to even put up with me, true story, I even cheated on my blog with twitter. Maybe some people (Read me) are just born bad and all we can do is act good and hope the horns won't peek out of the facade. Well, maybe I just picked a bad hairdresser because the horns are peeking, and maybe I shouldn't have gone off the ritalin because the tail is getting restless and swishing.

They say the devil wears prada, what do imps like me wear?! Gucchi, Burberry maybe?! I wouldn't mind a nice plaid pair of stilletos. Why do I say this, because I know how horrible I am, and I know it won't change for a long time. As I told 3CB, the core forever remains constant, and mine's rotten. So welcome to my world if you dare, know that I will use you for all you can give me and I shall give nothing in return, know that I shall not care no matter how much you do and Know that I'm not changing, and bring you're tanning gear, because apparently evil ones like me reside in hot areas.

Soundtrack:
Dark Days - Fat Freddy's drop
Free Again - Ledisi
I am - Kindred Family Soul

The cool down post

2009-05-29T02:47:00.000-07:00

"We gon' cool down on this one, you just recline right now turn this up... Turn the track up but you get low..." Intro to Cool down - Jazz Liberators featuring Raashan Ahmad.

I'm a cool down person. There is nothing I love more than just taking it easy, laying back and closing my eyes with no distractions, just freeing my mind. Like my music. I love slow, lazy, rhythmic, calming the soul and massaging the chi back to life kind of music. "Relax into the melody..."

Like cashew nuts and almonds with raisins and yogurt, or a foamy froth at the right Fahrenheit (Frosty) on a warm day with a light breeze in a fluttering dress on the Indian ocean coast "Escape 9 to 5, cool out, the sunset touch...."

Like the picture Zamajobe paints in my head of ndawo yami, my heart, a field with grass so green and so mossy soft, and a stream that I could dip my toes in because when you cool your feet the rest of you keeps cool including your mind "Recline *ahhh* inhale nature..."

Like good soft poetry, the cliche type with a steady drum line in the background and the drip-drop of consciousness as it trickles into my mind "Out of the crowd, blaze your bliss, blossom the boom box with this..."

Like afterglow. After slow sweet sensual love with the scented candles and the cigarette lit, feeling complete in more ways than one "Cool down, relax, chill, slow down baby, love plus the sun is where I'm from...."

Like when the rain is strumming against my window and the sky is deliciously darkened. Home alone with my thoughts and a pen to siphon them onto a paper with, soulful jazz notes and a glass of sweet Californian red to keep me company "Right the rhythm radiant rustle the rain rock steady...."

Like I. Like he. Like just being. If only for a few stolen moments, Just Being.

To better understand this post, I suggest you put off your phone, kick back, sink into an easy chair, ease your mind, get a cup/ bottle/ glass of your favorite poison, light whatever you prefer to light, fuck the system and listen to Cool-down - Jazz Liberators feat Raashan Ahmad

Soundtrack:
*Refer above*

On my bookshelve:
Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

On my wall:
Komushana a.k.a. Sunshine - Eizzy K

Fuck you, and you and yes you too! No, not you

2009-05-25T19:14:00.000-07:00

A rant by any other name is still a rant so if you’re not in the mood to read mine today then don’t pardon my French when tell you that you can royally fuck off!

To the brass tacks then..... I hate people who invite themselves over to my place, in fact I bloody well hate visitors in general. They never know when to leave and I have to sit there and laugh politely at their god-awful jokes while all the time formulating in my head the best way to skewer them then pit-roast them over an open fire. ( Of course this definitely excludes you T-baby and S-luv) But that was just a by the by.

So apparently I am a really bad communicator. Which is really ironic because when I applied for the torture that masquerades as higher education I ticked communication to the masses next to the little box that said choose course (apparently I also don’t do to well with fine print when I don’t have my glasses on). That having been declared, it then goes without saying that these phone gadgets are simply not my forte, especially when it comes to text messaging. I am sick and tired or people giving me grief about not answering their meaningless text messages.

Here’s the thing, when you send me an SMS and I don’t reply it, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t like you (Though I probably don’t) or that you’re an insignificant little twit who doesn’t mean shit to me (Though you probably are), it just means I simply couldn’t be bothered wasting my time typing words on a miniscule keypad taking care to omit the vowels in order to make sure there are only 160 characters. And in case you have a problem with that then by all means pick a number and join the queue because I hate to break it to you, you are not the only one! And if symptoms persist, form a tribunal and take it to the bloody Hague!

Soundtrack:

Golden - Jill Scott

Golden - Chrisette Michele

Bookshelve:

Knowing God – Deepak Chopra

On my wall:

Starry night - Vincent Van Gogh

My honest crap

2009-05-14T04:58:00.000-07:00

Hear ye, hear ye oh wunnerfull blogren, that it has been agreed upon by all of you *I insist* represented by the lovelies Val, PinkM, Ourkid, Keikei and The blogger formerly known as Nzembi, that a scrap award for honesty shall be bestowed upon me (Cue thunderous applause here!)

(The dramatic tearful acceptance) *Bow, curtsey, bob and blow kisses* "Awww, you can stop clapping now, really... Shucks, I know it comes as no suprise because any trophy made of scrap metal rightfully belongs to me, but I'm quite touched ;-D

There were rules somewhere but I'll make like a matatu driver with traffic laws and forget that they ever existed.

Drums, check. Bass, check. Strings, check. Groove and funk, Check. Let's proceed shall we....

1. Floetry - Floetic

If only I was poetic! You see I fancy myself a wee bit of a poet, but it recently came to my attention that I'm as poetic as George Bush is intellectual (No pun not intended!) But it wasn't suprising really, seeing how at one point or another in my life I thought I was musical or artistic or even prophetic depending on how the wind blew. I even considered myself somwhat of a Sumo wrestler until I realised that the swallowed thongs and the flabby bellies really do not do justice to my skin tone :-D

3. Beyonce - If I were a boy

I'd mic check my dongle (yes PinkM I said dongle! Hehe) Make sure the portable wi-fi was in proper working order, then proceed to find THIS idiot and reciprocate the golden favour!!

4. D'angelo - Shit, damn, motherfucker

Okay, this one might be a wee bit TMI: Apparently I can't take a dump in a foreign environment. I shit you not! When I'm travelling for long I can sub-consciously constipate myself for up to two weeks until I get back home to my throne room, unless it's incase of an emergency, in that case.....

6. Raul midon - State of mind

After watching the matrix trilogy I figured that everything in life is a state of mind. Since then I've been trying to bend spoons with my mind and I've been waiting for a call or for someone to come up to me and ask me whether I want the red pill or the blue one. Neither has happened yet, but soon....So if perchance any of you see me staring at a spoon suspiciously.....

7. Bob Marley feat Erykah Badu - No more trouble

Of late I'm becoming quite the passive aggressive. Which is really messed up coz I get irrate easily, but I'm bottling it all up inside. I'm just afraid I might take it all out on some poor sod who steps on my foot accidentally one fateful morning. If that poor sod happens to be any of you I apologize in advance!

9. Common - Soulfood

I am picky eater. A reeeeeeally picky eater, like a five year old or a pregnant lady. I don't eat chilly, AT ALL!! (Not red ones or green ones or yellow ones or blue ones or curry or anything that can be considered remotely hot and spicy!!) I don't like experimenting with fancy stuff and I stay away from anything that is neon coloured. I don't like chocolate (Unless it's raffaelo's) or ice-cream (Unless it's peppemint with choc-chips) I go through phrases when I only want to eat a particular food like noodles or pies, depending on my mood. And I eat ice-cubes. Abnormally so. At least 2-3 trays a day without fail. I can wake up in the morning and have ice-cubes and milk and crunch away at it as if it's a cereal!

10. Brian Mcknight - Back at one

Calculus is not my forte so I'll assume I've reached ten.

Thankyou all for being such a lovely audience. *Mwaaah, mwaaah, mwaaah, and mwaaah to you too!!* (Cue exit track and curtain drop...)

Oh wait! (Running back to stage) I'd forgotten....

Role call: (The following bloggers please report to tag square at once!)

JustDes: You're not getting away that easily, chap chap, my latte is getting cold :-D
Tbaby: Blogging about kamasutra on your third post, tsk tsk!!
Smothyz: I know you're insane!! Really, an absolute nutter. But poetic too!

Errryone who's not done it yet!!

Psssst!!

2009-05-10T04:02:00.000-07:00

Helllow blogosphere!! I'm still bundu's bashing but then I just spotted this fancy schmancy thingamafuzz called a computer and decided to have a go at it, and whadyuknow, a blog post is born :-D

Now, contrary to what Kei believes, I will not blog about how it felt being the only black person on location (Read - in the whole town!) and how it felt having people coming up and touching me just to make sure I'm real. (Apparently according to them black people only exist in myths and scary bedtime stories to keep children in check, the type that are along the lines of*If you go outside in the dark, the black people will come and eat you up*)

Neither will I blog about how everyone on set pronounces "Skate" as "Skeet" so there's a whole of "Skeet skeet skeet" going around the set.... Hypothetically, realistically, technically and practically.... Seriously!!

Or even about the dancing around palm trees in colorful attire, the trademark of all indian films.

Nope, none of you will hear a peep out of me about any of that, no siree, nada, nothing, zilch and all other derivates thereof!! .... Oh wait, Ooops, did I just tell you all of that already??! Dammit! Forget you just read that!!

In other news.... Who is Loco?! What floats her boat, turn's her sukuma wiki green, and recharges her chloride exide batteries?! There is a scrapbook going around that requires some amount of honesty which is honestly going to be a tad bit tricky for me since I lie about everything! Honestly, I do!! Watch this space..... (For more tips about watching this space kindly get in touch with Bomseh :-D

Errr.... Poetry??

2009-04-19T03:27:00.000-07:00

I am
Weak
There
Said it
Just don't
Expect me
To show it.

The drunk post...

2009-04-15T12:38:00.001-07:00

Dudes and dudettes!! It's been a while since I went drinking, actually, It's been quite a while since I got drunk and did s'mn stooopid!! Well, Tonight I did and now I am!!! So here's my 1.2.3. about being inebriated! When you attempt to prove your stamina by taking in copious amounts of alcohol and getting pretty much shitfaced, please remember the following:

Illusions:

- Ladies, the hot guy you're grinding up on won't be as hot when you wake up next to him tomorrow morning. DUHHH!
- Ladies (again) you don't look prettier when you're drunk, you only look prettier when THEY are drunk!
- Ladies (Ok, fuck it, I'm a female so most of this post is going to be pretty much Lady oriented!!) If you couldn't do the make-up right when you were sober then don't think you can do it right when you're wasted!! Yep, I hate to break it to ya, but they pretty much fucked you over when they made the mascara a wand and the eye pencil a pencil! Same case applies to dancing, sexy poses and such like!
- Gents the aforementioned procedures (applying make-up *If that's your thing*, dancing, looking sexy and PICK-UP LINES!!!) apply to you too!!

DONT'S:

- Drive when drunk!! (Trust me on this, those EABL adverts aren't pure bullshit, you WILL end up over a pavement *Ask me* or running into your best friend's bumper *Ask Des* I shit you not)
- Drink if you haven't eaten (Cardinal drinking rule #1)
- Mix your drinks, Beer is beer,whiskey is whiskey, wine is wine and so on and so forth (cardinal rule #2: If you do the results could be visibly disastrous - Yes, you'll puke your bloody guts out!!!)
- Hit on that hunk or hottie when you're smashed, you'll look like an utter idiot (Even though you probably are, we don't want that fact out there in the open, do we?)
- Send your Ex/ Current/ Could be/ Would be/ Shoulda been boyfriend/ girlfriend a text message. And no, you are not allowed to call them either!
-Blog when you're utterly pissed (You'll end up sounding somewhat like I do now and I'm pretty sure that's not what you want)

DO:

- Head straight home after your umpteenth glass of potent shit. You'll be glad you woke up in your own bed the next morning (Puke filled sheets notwithstanding!!)
- Blame it on the alcohol the next morning *Like I will tomorrow morning*

Soundtrack:
Happiness - Dead prez
Because I got high - Afroman
On and On - Erykah Badu

On my bookshelve:
Nothing

On my wall:
Some funky Afro-painting from Tazama Gallery with no name

Amazing Grace finale! Finally!!

2009-04-14T20:47:00.000-07:00

Grace is spotted. "C'mere you slippery wench" A short chase ensues "Aaaaah, gotcha!!!"

You, yes YOU, you wouldn't have that confused look on your face if you'd been here an here....

SO where was I, oh yes, the cosmic forces of the universe were refusing to play fair with me and blah blah blah. Anyway, I'll hurry up and finish this cause by now y'all are probably bored shitless by this story right?

I got my coffee, it was sugarless and it burnt my tongue, Mr Bossman came to pick me up, I spilt coffee on his car seat (In my defense it was just a tiny spill and juggling hot coffee, a car door and a file isn't too easy!!) I also discovered that wearing 4 inch heels isn't such a great idea especially when your boss is already much shorter than you normally...

I did the interview, it went quite well akshually, all was forgiven and I lived happily ever after with Grace, Mercy, Hope, Patience and all their siblings as my housemates (The living quarters are getting wee bit cramped but who am I to complain?!)

The end!!

*Anyone thinking of reproducing this into a fairy tale should do a side bar with me to discuss copyright issues :-) *

Soundtrack:
Golden - Jill Scott
Sawasawa - Eric Wainaina
Get up - Amel Larrieux

On my bookshelve:
The constant gardener - John Le Carre

On my wall:
Woman weighing pearls - Vermeer

Amazing grace part 2!

2009-04-06T07:39:00.000-07:00

What did I ever do to you grace?! Show thine damneth face!!

So if you're just catching up then start with part one.

Disclaimers:
- There pictures may or may not be loco, go figure!!
- Caution, graphic content!!

I get out of the taxi and the taxi man speeds off quick fast and in a hurry! Now you need to know that Loco is not particularly bright and does not trust weather peoples, so ofcourse I didn't have an umbrella on me. I took two steps and faster than you can say "Bloody 'ell" it started pouring. With Mo as my witness, the rain in Malaysia is ruthless. It was as though someone hollered "Open the floodgates of heaven!!" And God said "You asked for it!!!" then those impish angels who operate the floodgates went apeshit on the opening mechanisms! The end result...

I'm soaked through and through,in a white shirt mind!! So I rush up the steps and call Mr Bossman. "Come to A2 floor 8." "I'll be right up I reply" Then the hunt for A2 began. After about 15 minutes or so I figure out that there are FOUR taylors colleges, and yep you guessed it, am at the wrong one!! (I can't make this shit up, I swuurrrrs!!)

Grace is needed ASAP but nooooo, she doesn't feel the need to show up. I continue the struggle on my own!

Finally I call Mr. Bossman and explain how pathetically lost I am. "Okay,wait for me at the starbucks I'll come pick you up!" Ohhh sweet reprieve!! I rush into starbucks, DRIPPING WET, dying for a hit of something hot and coffeeish.

"Could I please have a cafe americano, extra strong!!" "That will be 11.60RM," the guy at the counter says giving drenched Loco a sympathetic look but struggling to swallow his laughter at the same time, what with me looking like a drenched cat and whatnot!!

I decided to wait outside. Now I won't expound on this next part too much, the memory is still too painfully fresh! It will suffice to say, 4 inch heels and a wet ramp equals afew inches of aching bum....

I'm soaked, lost and I can't for the life of me sit down properly. Screw that bitch Grace, now I'm just crossing my fingers that I'll run into her cousin mercy!!

You know there's more!!

Amazing Grace, Amazing Grace, Wherefore art thou??!

2009-04-02T08:38:00.000-07:00

What's so amazing about Grace??!

2.53pm: I get a call from a prospective employer, "We can meet today and discuss the job I was telling you about. How soon do you think you can be in the office?" "Give me an hour," I say, cool as can be. I hang up and sit in daze for a few minutes, "Wooohooooo!!" I wrap up chatting and whatnot and start getting ready.

3.32pm: I call a cab and go downstairs to wait.

3.40pm: Tap, tap, tap my foot. Light a dunhill fine cut, inhale, still waiting.

3.45pm: WTF!! Incompetent cab services, Still waiting as you've probably guessed!!

3.51pm: The cab arrives. I jump in. "Taylors college, abang. Do you know where it is?" "Taylors in Subang Jaya. Okay Lah. No problem," He replies. I put my earphones on and do a quick mental calculation. Good traffic, I'll be there by 4.07pm. Bad traffic I'll be there by 4.20pm. Not too bad. I close my eyes and listen to Norman Brown trying to calm myself down.

4.02pm: My phone rings. "Loco, how far are you?" "I'm sorry, traffic is horrid but I just passed the Sunway toll so I should be there within the next 10 minutes."

4.05pm: The foot starts tap tap tapping again! A slight drizzle begins.

4.09pm: We get there. "This is Taylors Miss. 26RM" I pay quickly and jump out of the cab.

That is the point I stopped looking at my watch. That is also the point, I started looking for Amazing Grace.

To be continued.....

Is there a doctor in the house?!!

2009-04-01T23:08:00.000-07:00

I feel sick. But I don't feel sick. Confusing right?! I know!! Okay, lemme explain it this way, you know the feeling you get right before you get a really bad flu or a stomach upset?! *Giving you a moment to process and go aaaah!* Yes, that feeling. I think it's somehow related to the fact that I haven't been eating properly for the past few days, somehow the food just doesn't go down as well as it should so I've been staying away from it.

So anyway, I told a friend of mine how I'm feeling and she said something that got me thinking. Apparently there's this theory that was postulated by some woman that every illness can be related to some kind of psychological issue. For example, a persistent cough means that a person is psychologically seeking attention. Cancer is a physical manifestation of psychological issues springing from some form of troubled upbringing that was somehow repressed.And so on and so forth.

I was diagnosed with severe iron deficiency anaemia when was around 13. What the doctors find most interesting about my anaemia is that no matter how low my HB gets (at one point it was a disastrous 4.3), the symptoms never manifest. Instead of being sluggish and tired all the time I usually have energy levels akin to that of the animaniacs. And they've tried everything, diet changes, supplements, blood transfusion, somehow my HB has never gotten to the optimum levels. So today I was wondering, do I have some psychological issue that I have never addressed?!

FLASHBACK: I had a normal childhood, very democratic family. I've never seen my parents fighting. Went to good schools and had healthy friendships. Always eaten right. Never been denied anything I need (Note, I said need not want) I didn't have too much freedom, or too little for that matter, everything I was allowed to do was always through logic and reasoning.

Now I have a very healthy relationship with my parents, my brother, with my friends, am in a very happy relationship with a wonderful man (albeit long distance). I have good days, amazing days, bad days, boring days, everything within the range of normal. So what psychological issue am I dealing with exactly?! Do I need to be put on an emotional drip? A mental enema perhaps?! Maybe an illness is just that. AN ILLNESS!! I don't think every time you get the sniffles it means you need to see a shrink. Let me know what you think.

Soundtrack:
Something's wrong - Bruno Le Flance
Let's make love - Foreplay
Angel of the island - Nicholas Rastoul

On my Bookshelve:
Five African plays - Cosmo Pieterse

On my wall:
The Arnolfini marriage - Jan van Eyck

Streamlining world communication sytems

2009-03-26T11:47:00.000-07:00

As humans (a.k.a. hoomiz in LOLology) we are constantly on a journey. Though this metaphor has been overused into clichédom and further, it still remains one of the few truisms in life. You see, no matter how much you resist the dynamism of growth, it has to happen. It is something that’s beyond our general control. If you stop growing, then that means you’re deader than Deadan Kimathi (does that sound too politically incorrect?!) in which case you have technically ceased to be human.

Personally I think I’ve come a long way from when I first got spanked. You see, at that time, when the mid-wife’s hand slapped my little pink newborn tush, I tried yelling “Lay your hand on me one more time and I’ll drop-kick you into the cramped up living quarters I just came from you gargantuan bully!!” Unfortunately the only thing those in the delivery room heard was a shrill “Ngweeeeeeeeee!” But I grew up, and slowly by slowly I gained the capacity to communicate effectively, to understand and to be understood, through speech, actions, and gestures and so on and so forth. Or so I thought…..

Somehow though, it sometimes seems that when I speak the only thing people hear is that same old “Ngweeeeeeeeeee!” And I generally tend to think its not that I don’t have good communication skills, rather than the person I’m talking to has a substandard capacity to understand. Have you ever talked to someone and felt like just shaking the shit out of them while screaming “Have you heard a single word I’ve said you thick-skulled, dimwitted, deaf, bumbling nitwit?! Am I speaking in Greek, Latin, Umpaloompa, Gibberish or some lost language?! How the fuck do I say this in friggin’ Idiot speak??!”

Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s happened to you at least once or twice! So here’s my suggestion. I think all adults who refuse to act in the capacity accorded by their substantial growth should henceforth forfeit adult status. If sex offenders have to be registered then in my not so humble opinion so should over-grown babies (commonly referred to by the term perpetual idiots). Imagine how much easier communication will be all across the world. Even world peace could be achieved! Therefore, designated registration points should be setup and the following should proceed to the afore mentioned points; politicians, rednecks, doomsayers, anyone over 21 who uses the acronym BFF like it’s in the dictionary, G W Bush, insane matatu conductors and drivers, men over 21 who think they were put on this earth to perpetuate the hiphop legends like Tupac and err… 50cent, all member of the KKK and all such like characters!!!

Soundtrack:
I can't get started - Dizzy Gillespie
Third world - Norman Brown
Breezin'- George Benson feat Al Jarreau

On my bookshelve:
The centre is black - M.G.N. Kahende

On my wall:
Starry night - Vincent van Gogh

Formulating my Formula 1 formula;

2009-03-24T23:15:00.000-07:00

2009 = F1³

P.S: (Is it allowed to put the post script before the script itself??!) *Anyhuu, Gream, I told you you’d be the first to know :-)*

My good peoples, although I am quite sure that what I am about to blog about is pretty much useless information to most of you, kindly indulge me won’t you?! (Hehe, is it too obvious I still haven’t mastered the art of beginning a blog post?!!)

Anyhuuuu, here’s the thing. I am absolutely determined to go for 3 grand prix this year. The first one next week 5^th of April in Malaysia Sepang circuit, Jamiroquai is performing at this one, the 2^nd one Singapore, the only grand prix that is held at night on 27^th September and the last one the Dubai grand prix in Abu Dhabi which will be the finale for the season, 1^st November.

Now, all this is easier said than done. Sepang circuit will be tricky because it’s so soon and I hadn’t planned for it in terms of finances, but due to proximity to where I stay it is possible. I might not be able to get grandstand tickets but hey, as long I am somewhere where I can catch the action right?! And besides, the sun still scorches those at the grandstand the way it scorches the rest.

Singapore also shouldn’t be too hard. The tricky bit is that due to the unique nature of that particular grand prix (The fact that it is held at night) tickets get sold out really fast. This means that I can’t take my sweet time saving for tickets and what not, I need to have booked and purchased my ticket by July, especially if I want to get into the grandstand for this one. Another problem is that so far I’m the only person I know who’s keen on spending a tiny fortune just to catch the F1. If I travel alone, that means it will be more costly in terms of travel and accommodation. Plus catching all the action and getting pissed afterwards all alone is really not too much fun.

Now the Abu Dhabi one is where the real challenge comes. I plan on getting a transit visa on my flight back home. Getting the transit visa is hard enough as it is. Plus I already have a Qatar airways ticket which transits in Doha so I need to figure out a way around that because I don’t plan on getting another ticket. Also, because this is the season finale, grand prix tickets get sold out faster than a drunk can piss on himself.

Haidhuru, where there’s a will there is a way and no matter how bad I am at math this is one equation I am determined to get right! Any contributions towards Loco’s F1 2009 agenda will be highly appreciated, and funds can be given by cash, cheque, IOU’s and food because I will be broke most of the year! *Insert cute little pleading face here*

Soundtrack:

Get into my groove – Incognito feat Jamiroquai

Who knows – Acoustic Alchemy

The way you move – Earth, Wind and Fire feat Kenny G

On the bookshelve:

Home and exile – Chinua Achebe

On my wall:

Virtuvian Man – Leonardo da Vinci

But you still don't know me

2009-02-13T04:47:00.000-08:00

So I was tagged on the facebook thing, was too lazy to come up with a new post and I decided to copy paste that here. After reading your blogs and being thoroughly amused by how mental most of you are, I updated my bloglist, if I still haven't added yours, usijali, it's coming, I just chokaad doing that add thing...... Here goes....

So now ave been tagged for this 25 things bout me thingy and I thought I'd give it a try..... y'all know the rules; tag the person who tagged you and 25 other peeps to do the same.... sawa basi twende kazi.....

1. Most people wonder why my name is spelt different from the norm, urm sorry to bust your pweety bubbles but I am not that creative, the pastor who was writing my baptism certificate misspelt my names so many times, I just took the closest one!
2. I can be extremely superficial! I refused to buy a grey/black/silver laptop because I think they look too cliché, never mind the specs!
3. People tell me I mood swing a lot. I personally just think that a very colourful cast of characters resides in me and each character has to be given their 15 minutes of fame
4. I’m scared shitless at the thought of going to see my OBGYN, must be those duck lips, the violation!!
5. I love African literature; I am currently in the process of trying to collect the whole of the African Writers Series.
6. Pick up lines are a constant source of amusement and entertainment for me, as in seriously, the sheer idiocy of men thinking those things will work!!
7. There’s something about clubs and hot strangers that makes me just act a fool, add tequila to that equation and you have the topic of conversation for the next three coffee get-togethers with my gurlfwenz....
8. I absolutely love my locs, they were inspired in small part after meeting a certain fella named D... refer to no. 9
9. I have an absolute thing for men with locs.... it’s a fetish!!
10. I am not intelligent. (Yes, I came out the closet about my blondeness!!) I talk so much one or two intelligent things are bound to escape, people just tend to focus on that
11. The biggest compliment you can pay me is telling me that I am mature..... many a man has scored big points using that compliment
12. I want a pet monkey that I can teach how to use the toilet, I tried with men and failed!
13. I absolutely can’t stand it when men leave my toilet seat up!!!!! Urrrrrgh!!!! See No. 12
14. I have been told I have built a wall around my heart, who hasn’t?
15.It really pisses me off when a man wants out from a relationship and claims he is doing it for her best interest. Oh come on! If her best interests did not lie in that relationship don’t you think she’d have left your sorry ass a long time ago??? (Woosah!!!)
16. I usually oscillate between thinking that sex is overrated and that it’s God’s gift to mankind.
17. Am a die-hard BMW F1 supporter but I secretly root for Kimi Raikonnen and get delirious when he wins a grand prix (Urm, guess it’s not so secret anymore)
18. I carry a dictionary around with me in my handbag, don't ask me why
19. I name inanimate objects; my laptop is sherby, my phone Oliver, my favourite teaspoon Al....
20. My sanity, or lack thereof has come into question on numerous occasions
21. I still can’t understand why world peace has not been achieved yet
22. I secretly watch and enjoy kid programs like that’s so Raven, Hannah Montana, Teletubbies, Gummi Bears..... (hmm, I guess that’s also not so secret anymore!)
23. My friends T-baby and S-luv insist that I hate clowns, I insist otherwise. I am just generally very suspicious of them, I think that anyone who can have a job as depressing as being a clown has the capacity to become a serial killer.
24. Perpetual procrastination is a disease. I have been afflicted since as long ago as I can remember
25. For number 25 c_c_c_call me and we'll discuss futher

Off now to find 25 other random crazies to tag and make their lives miserable coming up with these 25 thingies, if you are on my blogroll consider yourselve tagged or even if you happen to read this... have a fabulous one now won't you?!!!cHiArZ!!

Soundtrack:
Uthando Lwakho - Nhlanhla Nciza
Evidence - Thelonius Monk
Soul Music - Lisa McClendon

Bookshelve:
The big book of crossword puzzles

The blame game

2009-02-10T03:33:00.000-08:00

This past weekend was so good it took the whole of yesterday to ponder on it and think about posting about it, and even then all I’ll say about it is that it was (To quote the great and wise guru Barney) LEGENDARY!! I would post pictures to further expound on the legendaryness of the weekend but in all honesty I am a fat lazy woman and can’t be bothered to figure out how to manipulate the upload thingy to make them look even more legendary than it was!! Hapo tosha!!

Now, moving on to other matters of national importance, since we’re currently blaming virtually every single thing on our MP’s I wonder what I can get away with blaming them about..... If I was in primary now I’d never do my homework, then if the teacher asked guess what I’d say... (Oh, is it that obvious?!) “My MP ate my homework sir!” But since I’m no longer in primary school I think I’ll get into the office at midday tomorrow and tell boss man “Sir, it was that MP of ours, he punctured my tires!” Or now that I am in major trouble with my editor because of bailing out on a marketing trip when I meet her I think I’ll blame it on the MPs. Just imagine the possibilities (Rubbing my hands together in sheer glee as I contemplate this)!! They’re endless!! Oh the fun!! You see, our MP’s are not all that bad, at the very least they provide such perfect scapegoats!! This week try getting away with blaming them for something like forgetting to buy you’re considerable other flowers for valentines. Go ahead, you know you want to; don’t deny you want to do it!! (Muhahaha!)

Soundtrack:

Maxwell – fortunate

Shirley Scott – Autumn leaves

Babyface – Seven days

Bookshelve:

All your blogs (A collection of randomness and craziness from many different perspectives)

Breaking News!!

2009-02-05T04:30:00.000-08:00

This just in: After a serious battle that pitted Loco’s main faculties against each other, we have been informed that mind, body and soul have finally reached an agreement!! (Why do I still have this nasty habit of getting ahead of myself in all posts? Okay folks, to the genesis it is!) My mind was tired and went on strike. It demanded a holiday and threatened to go on permanent leave if its workload was not reduced significantly. After pleas, bargains, formation of commissions of inquiry, investigations and over the mental table discussions, a compromise was reached. It was decided that for the rest of the week the mind will take a vacation from thinking about the following things:

· - Problems (Mine, other people’s my neighbour’s cat’s, those induced by the recession like my wallet’s, the environment’s or those induced by politics)

· - Politics, politicians, politricking and all derivatives thereof

· - What could have, should have, would have, must be but was not or has not been done

· - Crime, it’s consequence and things that grow and fester in its backyard

· - The bogeyman and his companions lurking under my bed

· - All forms of aches and pains

· - Disaster, calamity, catastrophe

· - Things with lines that one has to read between and those with print that can be deemed fine

What can I say, what the mind wants, the mind gets. Mind over matter.

In other news, it is good to see some bloggers get back to blogging after what seem like a desertion of sorts in blogsville. Nzembi, Savvy, Pink M in her new digz and even Potash! Someone please send A son the memo.

Soundtrack:
Prelude for lovers – Foreplay
Goodmorning – John Legend
Strawberries – Hugh Masakhela

Bookshelve:
The little engine that could – Watty Piper (With pop-outs and illustrations)

BLOODY 'ELL!!

2009-01-30T00:54:00.000-08:00

Pardon my french but FUCK THIS WEEK, GADDAMN THIS BLOODY WEEK INTO MILLIONS OF FUCKIN BITS!!!! (Phew, it feels sooooo good to say that! The healing power of expletives!) I know am supposed to be grateful for the air I breath and all the blessings bestowed upon me and blah blah blah, and I truly am, but forgive me if I take just a few moments to be really pissed at this week.

Due to some stupid teeth that decided to rebel and grow sideways I had to go for a stooopid procedure that cost an arm and a kidney and left me looking like spongebob square jaw! Over and on top of all of that, I can't eat anything but soup. I swear, if I have another spoonful of chicken soup I shall hurl!!! I won't even mention the fact that I cant talk properly and due to the freaking meds I'm a drooling idiot!! (WOOOOOOSAH!!) Needless to say, the relaxing getaway I had scheduled for this weekend is not happenin.....

And on a sadder and more personal note my granddad, who has played a crucial role in my growing up suffered a second stroke this week. I have known for a long time that I might leave the country this time and not find him alive when I get back but that doesn't make it any easier. And I'm trying not to mourn but seeing him so disoriented, not knowing where he is, knowing that each time I see him might be the last, it takes a toll on me, and I can't help it.

I think I just need this week to be over and done with. It may seem that am ranting about petty things when there are so many bigger issues out there but please just allow me this moment of weakness.......

Off now to go find a huge rock to curl up under, hopefully when I emerged I'll be able to eat a nice hot sandwhich with bacon and tomatoes and onions and french beans and lots of melted cheese...... (I drool, I drool!!)

Soundtrack:
Stressed out - Tribe called quest feat Faith Evans

Bookshelve:
Haile Selassie, Conquering lion (A biography) - Leonard Mosley

I'm just saying.....

2009-01-26T05:50:00.000-08:00

Testing, testing..... does this mic work?!! Ahem, ahemmmmm (Clearing throat noisily and adjusting speaker volume). Clearly this post has been a long time coming. My lovely 3.67 readers got tired of watching this space and decided to do get back to doing better things with their time like quest for powdered water or something of equally magnanimous significance (Teeheehee, there I go with the big words!!)So anyhuuuuu.... back to the long overdue post.

In ‘Ibada Yangu’ Riggah says “... Be careful of your doctrine it determines who you reach” These words have really been eating me up inside for quite a bit. You see, I’ve been trying to figure out at what point the doctrine of love, no, even love is asking for too much, let me rephrase... I’ve been trying to figure out at what point the doctrine of humanity stopped being a universally accepted doctrine. What the hell am I rambling on about you ask? Okay, let me try making this insane babbling more coherent.

During the Kenyan post election genocide (Yes I called it a genocide, bite me!!) I witnessed firsthand as part of the redcross team, the level of sickening, terrifying, morbid, and nauseating (I could go on and on inserting choice adjectives here but am sure you get the picture) degradation of sense and sensibilty. I watched as the value of human life was reduced to a point so low that it was incomprehensible. And I became numb, so much so that I did not get traumatized by all the gory vileness I saw.

And just like almost every other Kenyan, after the genocide, I swept it all under my mental carpet like unnecessary dust and ‘moved on’. “We came so close to being like our horrid neighbours Rwanda!!” “It is sad that it had to happen, but we’re blessed that we recovered from it before it went to far” that was the talk that was going round from every Kenyan lucky enough not to have been a part of the 1500 dead people, humans. Lucky enough not to have been exterminated like pests in this “Blooming” society we call a country. Lucky enough not to have been part of the 300,000 robbed of their jobs, livelihoods, mothers, fathers, children.... Robbed of their will to exist, let alone to their will live. After all, they are only 0.79% of the population. Unlucky statistics not worth being given the privilege of being acknowledged as human.

As time went by, even those well placed tsk tsks stopped being heard, and life continued as though what happened was just a minor fart in this well oiled machine called Kenya. Save for the compulsory “Thank God this year did not start like 2008” thrown in on 31st and the shaking of heads that accompanied it, not a murmur of what happened is heard.

As I sit here in my cosy room, beer in hand, writing to try and ease my blood tainted conscience a year down the line, I find myself more bitter and disgusted than I have ever been my entire life. At myself, and at every other Kenyan out there, because we are all nothing but petty criminals, murderers and profaners. We should all be brought to justice for murdering a country, then stringing the same country up like a marionette and playing pretend with it trying to convince ourselves that it is alive when it is clearly not.

I find myself trying not to hate because I know it is hate that got us to where we are now. But not being able to keep down the loathing that creeps up my throat like bile every time I walk down the streets of Nairobi. Trying not to wonder whether the person walking behind me was one of those who murdered his/ her neighbour in cold blood because of petty differences. Trying to convince myself to finish this post, but knowing that I’ll have to get back to it later because right now I can’t do it. My inner demons have overwhelmed me and I have to fight them, because if I don’t, just like those IDP’s (We reduced the thousands christened into one worthless abbreviation!), just like those IDP’s, if I cannot overwhelm these inner demons, then life is not worth living.

Soundtrack:
Fire on the mountain - Asa
Pot of Gold - Akon

Bookshelve:
After the vote - Kwani Trust (Kwanini series)

Mic test 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2009

2009-01-05T08:55:00.000-08:00

The proverbial piece of wood chilling out in water hoping to become a crocodile is what I feel like this 2009. Maybe one can never really have 2 consecutive good years, if so I should relax quietly in the back burner this year and wait my turn for the next year as good as the last.

But then again, the bunnies in my head say it's just lethargy, the effects of overimbibing during the holiday, and I trust those bunnies, they have been with me long enough to judge me. I shall be up and running in full capacity in no time!!!

Errrr.... Watch this space.... seriously, watch it, don't take your eyes off it even for a second......

PS:
(Now why did you stop watching that space?!) Tanzania is a beautiful country, yes indeed it is, but on the real, 1 mall, 2 clubs??!!!!

Angalia Saa by Ukoo Flani has one of the most beautifully done videos I've seen.

Okay, no more babbling, a real post to come soon...

Soundtrack:
Those sweet words - Candyapple
Heaven - Sema

Bookshelve:
Shake hands with the devil - Lt Sgt Romeo Dallaire
(an eyewitness account of the rwanda genocide)

Too far from home

2008-12-08T06:48:00.000-08:00

Ironic isn't it?! Why you ask? Here's why, I'm smack dab right back to where most of it began but I couldn't be further if I was catapulted flailing and screaming to the planet formerly known as pluto (Or rather the pluto formerly known as planet!)

I took a walk today. A walk down a dusty road that I have walked down more times than I can remember. A dusty village road that practically raised me.

Past the brook that I fished for tadpoles in - It has dried up
Past the kiosk where I used to buy koo and patco - All it sells now are shrivelled sukumas and tomatoes
Past the church whose name was too long to fit on it's mabati structure - It's now a school
Past the kinyozi which my brother went to religiously every sunday morning - It's now a butchery
Past the butchery where I got delicious mutura every evening on my way home - It is now a photo studio
Past my best friends house where many memories abound - She is halfway across the world
Past me an old lover drove - He didnt recognise me, and I didn't even bother to wave

How can a path so familiar be fraught with so much unfamiliarity?!!

Soundtrack:
Too far from home - Eric Wainaina
Unwritten - Natasha Beddingfield
Step by Step - Urban Knights

Bookshelve:
Ake - Wole soyinka (An autobiography)

Yipeeeeeeeeee!

2008-12-06T01:13:00.000-08:00

It feels abso-effin-lutely beautiful to be back home! I don't give a shit what anyone says but the feeling you get when you get back to kenya no matter how long you've been away is the best feeling there is! If I could swear, I'd swear that for a few moments as the wheels of the plane kissed the landing strip I heard Eric Wainaina belting out the last line of Kenya Only "...Daima mi ni mkenya, mwananchi mzalendooooooooooooooooo..."

It's a wee bit weird though, Kenya hasn't changed much but I've changed a whole lot. I wonder how that will work out..... hmmmm. Off to tea-spot to ruminate on that. Any random lots are welcome.

XoXo

Soundtrack:
Suluwe - Chizi
Village girl - Valerie Kimani

2 weeks notice

2008-11-30T07:43:00.000-08:00

I have never realised how long two weeks really is. 2 weeks, 14 days, 336 hours, 20160 minutes, 1209600 seconds. A really long time. Long enough for a whole lot of shit to happen.

Let me start from the beginning which happens to be halfway through the story at the end of an already begun but beginning to end story. Are you with me? Good, hang on to your jockstraps and g-strings because this a long story from beginning to end.

Cast of characters

Loco: Me
T-Baby: My sistergurl from another not my mother! Beautiful, intelligent woman. The epitome of thee African Gurl. She is the one of the most responsible people I know, and has that aura of quiet maturity that we women all want to have.
S-Luv: My other sistergul from another not my mother. Intelligent, self-controlled, calm collected and angel faced. (But don't let the cute face fool you, we all know she's crazy as hell.... shhhhhh, that's a secret, hehe!)
Dipshit: T-baby's now ex. The name says it all.
Scarface: Irrelevant vulture skunk scavenger who just happened to fall into the story.

Wednesday 19th November:
S-Luv and I go to T-baby's place to chill for a while. Relax, and just collectively insanify. We notice T-baby is tense and stressed. Sometimes I try to picture the expression on Atlas' face as he shoulders the weight of the world, today I see the very same expression etched on T-baby's face. We ask her what's on her mind. It's a long story she says, she'll tell us over lattes and chocolate indulgence on Friday night. We reassure her that we've got her back no matter what. You see, the three of us are gurlfriends. The rare kind of friendship which very few people get to experience in a lifetime. Three gurls from completely different parts of the world with a connection that binds us. But anyway, I digress (readjusting tangent here)

Around 4am in the morning, after we've each gone our different ways, I'm in bed watching sex and the city season 6 for the umpteenth time and I hear a knock on my bedroom door. *Mumbling and grumbling, can't y'all let a sista be?!!* I go open the door and T-baby is standing there, "I need to watch a movie". There are times when whats not being said echos much louder than what rolls off the tongue. The pain on T-baby's face.....

We get in and sex and the city is immediately pushed aside. "What's wrong T-baby, you know you can tell me anything" T-baby starts talking and releases a world of pain. I hold her as she tells me about how fucked up her past relationships have been. I wipe away the tears of a woman who has seen more than her fair share of messed up men from an early age, and who reacted the only way she knew how. I won't go into details. She had left it all behind to come here and heal.

So anyway, she had finally told Dipshit everything that had happened in her past. Instead of being a relatively supportive boyfriend (at that time) dipshit reacted by graphically explaining how disgusted by her he was.

The thing is T-baby has taken a whole lot of shit for and from Dipshit. His past was gorier and uglier than hers, and his past wasn't exactly the past but was presenting itself in the present. T-baby had taken it all in stride and supported him. When the tables were turned and she need just a wee bit of understanding and support from him.......

Dipshit, in line with his Dipshitness has an agression issue. Agression is normal, many non-dipshits deal with it. However the thing that dipshityfies Dipshit is that he choses to take out said agression on T-baby. I don't give a (flying fuck, rats ass, horse's dick, crying crap... Choose one ) what anyone thinks, in my books, any man who dares to raise a finger to a woman does not deserve to be called a man. When T-baby tells me that TWICE, dipshit has done exactly that, I got livid! Fury I had like hell hath no!!!! But I kept my shit together for T-baby's sake.

T-baby poured her soul out until she was drained. I tucked her in. She was leaving for home in 2 weeks. It would be best if she stayed with me till then.

Thursday 20th November:
We get her stuff from her house, an attempt at a discussion with Dipshit becomes potentially explosive. We walk away from it all. That's not what she needs, she has to centre, and calm the fuck down. We grab some chicken and fajitas (comfort food) and I radio head-quaters for reinforcements. S-Luv comes over to my place. Soon enough the three of us are stuffed, chatting and laughing. S-luv takes over as resident agony aunt. Now S-luv has been through her fair share of bullshit (a story for another day) So she empathises.

We talked it over with T-baby, she wanted to give Dipshit a chance to explain. We have already said all we have to say all that is left is to support whatever decision she makes.

Friday 21st November:
After Kofi Annan like mediation, T-Baby goes back to her house. They decide they'll go home, talk it over with their parents then make the final decision after that.

Monday 24th November:
T-Baby has the sneaky suspicion that dipshit is sleeping with Scarface. female intuition. But she has no evidence and he denies it. She lets it slide. But we all know that female intuition is usually on point like two dots on a line! And in this case, she was righter than rain if ever rain was right!

Wenesday 26th November:
*Nokia tune, its T-baby on the celly*
Loco: Aybaybay, how you doin!
T-baby: Where are you
Loco: I'm still trying to finish up with this work so that I can take it to the printers. We're still on for 6.00pm right?
T-baby: Urm, something has come up, can you meet me now?
Loco: (Looking over at bosslady who is breathing fire because we're pushing a deadline) Where are you?
T-baby: Cyberjaya police station.
Loco: WTF?!! Errr, okay, gimme half an hour I'll be there!

I got there to find her sporting a black-eye so horrific it looked like it had a life of it's own. He had punched the beejezuz out of her. T-baby had finally drew the line. She did not shed a single tear. She had calmly gotten a cab and gone the police report to file a report.

I can't even begin to explain how this has affected all of us personally on so many levels. No woman should have to put up with any shit like this from any man. I respect T-baby's strength, her self-control. I'd like to say that if it was me I'd have killed that piece of shyt dipshit. But after I saw what T-baby went through.....
She still smiles through the pain. " So I finally went and got myself a black eye! Hehe!" Thats what she says.

Soundtrack:
Beautiful flower - India Arie
Shine - India Arie

Bookshelf:
Is that the new moon? (an anthology of female poets) - Wendy cope

Pissed on and pissed off!!

2008-11-16T08:31:00.000-08:00

Where the hell does a grown ass_____ (idiot, retard, halfwit, moron, imbecile, cretin, fogothari, kumbaff) - pick one- caveman get off pissing out of a 7th floor window at 3am onto an unsuspecting Loco 2 floors below????!!

Yes Ladies and gents, some (for lack of a better word) idiot, decided that because he can pee standing up he might as well do it out of a window. I was sitted two floors below, in my friends house, innocently working, windows open so that we could enjoy the breeze. I will not bother to explain the laws of gravity, tangent and whatnot.

End result, an absolutely livid Loco and Loco's friend, baying for blood! (Too bad we weren't able to find out who the piss-ant *pun intended* was) lots of disinfectant, rose water, mr clean for windows, dettol and so-forth was used, an epiphany was induced.

To be continued.....

Soundtrack:
I hate you so much right now - Kelis

...and then I exhale

2008-11-12T12:55:00.000-08:00

For the past three or so weeks I’ve been suffering really bad insomnia. Really bad. I can’t get any sleep till around 7 or 8 in the morning when the sun is already up, and I am awake by around 10am. It’s not the good insomnia where you get to stay awake finishing up the work you have. By 4am or 5am I’m usually so tired I could go crazy (or crazier depending on how you look at it!) After trying every relaxation technique I could think about (camomile tea, hot showers, warm milk, exercise...) I finally gave up and decided that my issues must be psychological.

Last night, in sheer frustration about my lack of sleep I found myself out walking at 4.00am, listening to Norman Brown and reflecting. Four acquaintances of mine have died in the past two weeks, one was a good friend. Two of my acquaintances are in hospital, one is a good friend.

I’ll start with Saqib. Saqib was a wild card. The kind of guy you could always depend on to do the randomest things. The kind of guy who would give me the tequila shot that tipped me from the edge of tipsy to shit drunk. There was never a dull moment when you were with him. He was the life of the group, any group. Last week Wednesday when I was out celebrating Obama’s victory with my friends, I got a text. Saqib had been in a car accident, him and Muneer (who was on the passenger seat) had died on the spot. The life of the group no more, but the memories they left behind are of good times, of lives well lived, footprints left. Memories I and others will cherish, and lives that will be fondly remembered. R.I.P.

Zain was in the car with Saqib. He broke two ribs, punctured a lung, broke a finger, cut his head and was immediately rushed into the operating room. He is stable and recovering. He still has no idea that Saqib and Muneer are dead. No one has the heart to tell him as he recovers from his injuries.

Life is fickle. Way too fickle for me. I should be grateful for the insomnia, that I get extra 2 or 3 hours to savour living.

After I came back from the walk I fell asleep immediately, for 8 hours. Insomnia cured. But then again, it’s some minutes past 5am now, I’m still awake and I see no signs of me falling asleep anytime soon.

Soundtrack:
Dark days - Fat Freddy drops
I believe in love - Aaron 'Krucial' Rimbua
Breathe - telepopmusik

Coitus (non)interruptus

2008-11-09T07:27:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Savvy and A son of his mother, I have decided not to be left behind by the erotica bandwagon, so I jump on by throwing in this piece of eroticaesque lame poetry. I don’t know which is worse the poetry or the content. Here’s to hoping that some myopic, holier-than-thou human will attempt to chastise this entry. I won’t even put a disclaimer; Loco is spoiling for a fight.

Spicy
Like freshly ground pepper
Heat blazing
Thawing, melting
Icy heart to river
Wet, soaked
Flames Licking
Cataclysmic
Frantic tugging
Stretching, filling
Tension
Like a tightly drawn string
Approaching nirvana
Floodgates open
Screams
Explosive
Like Hiroshima gone ballistic
All inside
Tremors
6.2 Richter scale
Twitch
Sigh
Cigarette lit

Soundtrack:
Fever - Ray Charles ft Natalie cole

Dear Music,

2008-11-03T05:50:00.000-08:00

Dear music,

Am pissed off! I know you like India Arie, but you could always be in my head too, there’s lots of space here. Seriously, there’s a huge comfy vacuum you could occupy, I’ve been in told it has something to do with the brain or shortage thereof!

Cry and smile and dance with me, like you did with Judith Sephuma. Help me ascend, just like Maxwell did. Am searching for ndawo yami, the place you took Zamajobe, because these glitches that afflicted the Roots seem to be contagious.

Or if that’s too much to ask, could you at least show me where to get some sexual healing, it seemed to do Marvin Gaye a lot of good. You see, I am looking for my lover man, just like Billie Holiday. And if I find him, maybe he could help me count the steps to heaven, I’m not sure they’re seven as Miles Davis insinuates.

Now am flashbacking like Fat Freddy Drops. Ohh, the joys of back in the day. Hehe, Erykah Badu wasn’t the only one who used to hope that the dogs wouldn’t bark when she got home. Yes, things back then were laid back, Najee style, it was pure Norman Brownesque west cost coolin! It felt almost like being in love. I wonder if that’s how Nat King Cole felt. I’m sure that even Raul Midon would confess that that was truly a beautiful state of mind.

But those days are gone. I won’t wallow in the memories of yesterday like Frank Sinatra, even though it’s tough these days, not just for Ayo, but for me too. I won’t look back, I have to move forward, mambo ni Twende. Urm, Eric Wainaina, could you please give me the map you used? You know I like the way you move.... foward... reminiscent of earth, wind and fire.

Anyway, music my love, I have to get going now. I feel floetic headache coming on, and I can hear Urban Knights’ South African jam beckoning me. I just wanted you to know that Dwele isn’t the only one who gets a kick out of you. I do too, despite the fact that I’m a village girl, Valerie Kimani’s neighbour.

Don’t be a stranger, feel free to Jaguar Wright me a dear john anytime. Next time you come to visit, we’ll take a long walk around the park after dark, yes, me, you (music) and the night, Chet Baker will be jealous. I might even invite Jill Scott to come along, and we can imitate George Benson and Al Jarreau’s Breezin’.

Yours with more respect than Aretha Franklin,
Twenty Something Year old (Just like Jamie Cullum),
Child of the earth (I think am related to Hugh Masakhela in some way)
Dee.

PS: Do send my love to your cousin Theatre, tell him that I shall write to him soon.

The rudiments of writing

2008-10-30T22:39:00.000-07:00

I don’t claim to be a writer. Neither do I claim not to be one. However, I do know that there are two basic things that can greatly boost one’s authorship.

1: Language
It matters not what language you write in, mastery of language leads to great writing. Mastery in this case does not necessarily mean being able to cross all t’s and dot all i’s, conjugate and convolute verbs and nouns, or even to spew unheard of vocabulary. It simply means being able to ply language in a fashion that will captivate the reader to want to read that extra word.

2: Logic/ Flow/ Sense
Sorry folks, I am unable to comment on this. Being of the ‘intruded’ sex, I am genetically pre-disposed to lack the basic tenets of the above-mentioned. More oft than not, sense not only escapes me in its entirety, but does so sticking it’s tongue out and singing the old ‘not-so-negro-spritual’ “Shumakia, ka-nyama ka guku...."

I you don’t believe me, please feel free to start an argument with me and see where it leads.

Soundtrack:
Back in the day - Erykah Badu

My new Soccer policy and other mishmash

2008-10-27T04:43:00.000-07:00

I have decided that from now on I am going to root for the underdog in all soccer matches.... urm.... Go Wigan!!

I am seriously craving supa-snack (You remember that delicious ornage chocolate we had when we were growin up? Yes that one!) Anybody who gives me relevant information about where to get some will be generously rewarded! (I'll give you half my supa-snack bar)

Today being laundry day, I was forced to wear a pair of camouflage pants I found in the back of my closet, needless to say, I feel ridiculous and look outrageous

I have a sneaky suspicion someone switched my coffee to decaf, could the perpetrator of this heinous act come foward and confess!! I promise, if you come foward you shall be dealt with with leniency!

I know everyone is complaining about gas prices but I on the other hand am being proactive. I'm looking for my broom. (I hear they have really good gas mileage!) I'll jump-start that broom till it flies!!

Lastly, I really miss a certain someone..... Seriously K, this juju!!

Soundtrack:

Kiss from a rose - Seal

Teeheehee:

Yani this had me ROTFLMAO (Internet speak for saying it jolly well had me tickled!)

Incase you doubted who I am, mimi ni mkenya!

2008-10-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

Another really looong post….. :-p

I grew up as a ghetto Barbie if any such term exists (Of course if anyone insinuates that am a Barbie I would vehemently brush off that accusation with my perfectly manicured nails and insist that I am a G!!) As such I had an extremely twisted childhood. This was the case scenario. I lived in the hood in a village somewhere all dust and rivers, however, my very educated parents insisted on queens English, perfect diction and exemplary vocabulary, which in the hood translated into a ‘wengist with confusing speech. Furthermore, my mother, being the proper lady she is, taught me to culture pride and dignity whenever I dealt with the male species, which in the hood translated into me being a snob with an attitude problem.

On the other hand, I went to what one could call an uptown school, and here too there was a wee bit of a problem. You see most of the girls who went to the schools which I attented could be classified as rich spoilt brats, but I hailed from an average income family, you could call it middle class, so I didn’t quite fit into the typical elitist group.

So as clearly outlined above there was a conflict of interest. I was stuck between two worlds and couldn’t quite fit in either. But I got through it and grew up, albeit must admit I gravitated kidogo towards the Barbie side of life. My heart however is still in the village and as I look back am greatful for the village experiences which made me who I am today. Those are the experiences that truly formed my Kenyan childhood.

I can honestly and unabashedly say that I am truly Kenyan because I; drank maziwa ya nyayo, fished for tadis in a mtaro, went for dufo mpararo, played games which had all sorts of weird names like kati, bano and kalongo, climbed trees and chased monkeys, ate raw bananas even when my mum told me not too, then suffered a horrible running stomach for two days straight, attempted to smoke papers, raced with cars made out of wires, grew up having my backside whooped thoroughly every time I did something wrong and even when I didn’t in anticipation of me doing something wrong, sang all sorts of weird catchy jingles like “shumakia” and “John kibogoyo” which I cant quite remember nowadays, went to school in bata shoes and at some point in my life wore bata bullets and sandaks, played “brikicho” half my childhood and still have no idea how to spell or pronounce that word, never address anyone older than me by their names but as mama so and so or, baba so and so, auntie or uncle, always use two personal pronouns consecutively e.g. “Me I” or “Us we” or “Them they”, remember VoK when transmission started and 4.00pm and ended at midnight, used to always rushed home after school to watch cartoons like Danger mouse, smurfs, gargoyles, gummy bears, care bears and captain planet.

To cap it all (drum roll please)…… festivities!!! I remember how festivities always came and went with a bang, the biggest shebang of them all being Christmas. LOL!! Christmas!! I get all nostalgic thinking about how Christmas used to be. To begin with all the Nairobians would troop to shags baggage and all to celebrate the occasion with the rest of the family. Yes, Christmas in Kenya has always been a family affair. On the day itself, every Tom Dick and Harry would pull out their Sunday best for the occasion, chapo would be cooked like there was no tomorrow and the chicken! Wololo! There was not a single chicken which slept at ease on 24th because they all sensed the impending doom. All the kids would have the time of their lives chasing the chicken willy-nilly across the compound on Christmas morning until two or three really nice and fat ones had been caught and those would be stewed to perfection to accompany the chapo, pilau, mukimo and whatever else had been cooked. And who can forget the nyama-choma?!! Those delicious roasted ribs and that mutura which you know you can only find in Kenya and nowhere else.

I could go on and on but I guess it will suffice to say that no matter where I go or how westernized my lifestyle becomes these will always be the experiences that I cherish. And am sure most Kenyans reading this are smiling and nodding, their experiences might not be a carbon copy of mine but at some base level they are similar.

COSMOPOLITAN WOMEN, SEX ON THE BEACH, MEN AND BLOWJOBS!

2008-10-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

Ahem, attention ladies and gentlemen, could those of you with straying minds please report to aisle number one for a dose of ‘get your mind out of the gutter!!’ Sex talk shall come later when I am having coffee and cake at secret recipe with my gurls :-p As far as the title goes I refer to the colourful names given to alcoholic cocktails.

We often joke about these names but it was only sometime back I realised what a powerful marketing tool they are. A friend of mine (I shall give him the cliché pseudonym X) and I were discussing cocktails and he was regaling me with the tale of his first encounter with the ‘blowjob’.
Said friend X and his friends had gone out for their normal Friday night ka-round of drinks, soccer conversation and whatever else men do on their Friday night kamkunjis. Now as it just so happened, that night the bar they went to was having a promotion of the cocktail ‘blowjob’ which X had never heard of before. So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised X was when a curvaceous promotion lady wearing a tightly fitting boob tube and a barely there skirt approached him and offered a blowjob.

According to X the conversation went something like this;

Lady: Would you be interested in a blowjob?
X: (Incredulous look on his face) A what??!!
Lady: A blowjob sir, would you like to get a blowjob?
X: (Marvelling at how pleasantly open-minded women at this establishment were) Urm, sure. Why the hell not....
Lady: Okaaay, that will be 5rand sir, how many would you like?
X: (Gleefully analysing the contents of his wallet) I’ll give you 20rand if you make them good!
Lady: Don’t worry sir, only the best!

Of course X (and urm... X junior) was thoroughly disappointed when he parted with his 20rand and was left with 4 glasses of layered coffee liquor instead of....

But the thing is, the name went a long way in promoting the drink. It goes without saying, that men would naturally not turn down blowjobs or slippery nipples be they sexual or otherwise, and women live vicariously through drinking sex on the beach instead of... err... having it!

The names of these cocktails represent a lifestyle we secretly want to live, and for the most part don’t. No matter how disappointing the contents, we will drink a cocktail because of its fancy name. Women wanting to come off as sophisticated and worldly will gulp down cosmos because it makes them feel like part of the cast of sex and the city. Tourists will generously imbibe bahama mamas, mojitos and tropical teasers because these represent the exotic quality they seek.

As for me..... Hehe! Next time you see me in the club you’ll know my poison!!

Of politrickal matters

2008-10-26T08:18:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a reeeeeeeally long post.... Bite me!

Recent encounters and happenstances in my life have led me to see that my utter abhorrence for Kenyan politics is no excuse for my ignorance about said issue. And so, in a quest to remedy this situation (the ignorance, not the repugnance) I have plodded many an e-mile to acquire knowledge on the subject of Kenyan politics.

Mad props to the likes of M and Ory of mzalendo.com, Mars group at marsgroupkenya.org, and other such e-doors that I knocked upon (or barged through) that provided insightful, must-know, information that I believe every Kenyan should have access to. And also to the various bloggers, be they serious, satirical, witty or downright hilarious, who also played a role in helping me understand the ins and outs of Kenyan politics.

Thus far (regardless of how pitifully little I know, and how much more I am still learning, and am yet to learn) I am certain of one or two things.....

Number 1:

Dear Mr/ Mrs/ Ms Politrick... pollituc.... politician,

I no longer just hold you in fine disdain; I now do so with justification and reasoning behind my sentiments. And in case of any uncertainty as to what said sentiments are please let me clarify by assuring you that they vary from antipathy to ‘nauseation ‘(yes I had to coin up a word specifically for you, don’t you just feel special now?)

You have been accorded the enormous task of championing the causes of the people, but thus far you consistently proved that your worth in this society can be equated with that of manure without a bio-gas plant. It seems that every time you open your mouth, it you should only be followed by you rapidly sticking your foot into it, otherwise we are forced to endure your inane and vacuous ramblings.

You have consistently proved that robbing public coffers to feed your already bloated belly is not just your forte, but also your life’s ambition. I cringe at the dawn of each new financial year, as the national budget is read and I find out that you have yet again come up with new ways of robbing the wananchi.

I am young, but despite of my naiveté I don’t see how year after year Kenyan roads are paved solely with intentions instead of tarmac, or how hospitals, that are supposed to be places of healing, continue to languish in deplorable conditions, or how, the economy is supposedly rising and yet this is not felt by the 70 something children in a dilapidated class five classroom being taught by an overworked teacher.

Mr politrick.... (urm, refer to salutation as above) I had hoped you would have been redeemed in my eyes as I gained more insight into your world, but sadly, your already low standing continues to sink into the depths of oblivion.

Number 2:

Dear Mr/ Mrs/ Ms Mwananchi,

How long? How long will we continue to flit and skirt in the periphery of the issues that affect us? How long will we keep discussing these injustices in the comforts of homes and bars?

I reiterate, I am young, but even in my naiveté I believe ‘something’s gotta give’. We as a people have to accept our share of the blame. We keep saying how bad politicians are, but weren’t they once just another you or me? At one point I thought we should stop voting for the ilk we have in power now and start voting for better leaders, but where are these to be found? I’ll tell you where they are to be found. Sitting as aforementioned in homes, bars or other institutions discussing how Kenya needs to change but not willing to be a part of the change.

This cycle has to end! Kumekucha!! It is time for each and every one of us to start taking an active role in changing our country. We can’t keep waiting for the Martin Luthers or Mahatma Gandhis to lead us to the mountaintop. We need to start finding out exactly what the roots of our problem are and work towards mending our country. Speak out in whatever capacity you have. One person’s voice can be feeble and unheard, but who can ignore the voice of a whole country?

Soundtrack: Problems – Modenine Ft Chima ( A. S. I just had to use this one!)

Haiya... Kumbe I had a blog!! Whoddathunk??!!!

2008-10-24T01:45:00.000-07:00

It’s been a year since I last blogged... YIKES!!! And to think I thought I could actually do this regularly!! Well, another testament to my lacklustre staying power, innit? Nyhuuuu... me no going to be apologetic!! Teeheehee!!

So much has happened between this year and the last that even in summary it could very well be an epic novel! It shall suffice to say, I have grown up a lot, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually et al.

Now moving on to other matters of not-so-national-importance...... I have always wondered what it would have been like to live waaaaaay back when! In the days of the peeps we refer to as our ‘ancestors’, the days described in books like Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, or Rebecca Njau’s The Gourd Seed.

Imagine the simplicity of a life without fast-food, endless traffic jams, music by the likes of 50cent (Yenyewe I really do not like this guy!) mobile communication devices, electricity, twin-towers or the planes that crash into them, ak-47s, factories, nike footwear, trash television (Seriously, E- Entertainment?!?!!)..........

I am a firm believer in the saying “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” yes, development and what we have now is good, but isn’t ignorance akin to bliss? Call me unappreciative of the wonders of modern society, but given a choice I would gladly go back to those days. I’d be there in a jiffy in all my topless glory fetching water from the river, dancing under the moonlight at bonfires, collecting straw to thatch my ka-hut and proving the worth of the beads around my waist.

And yes, I know that even then it was not the perfect life, but in my personal opinion, better the lion you know than the bullet you don’t!!

Soundtrack:
Ndawo Yami - Zamajobe Sithole

A letter to myself… my later self...

2007-11-04T11:57:00.000-08:00

Physical address unknown

Date unknown

Position only hoped for

Dear Ms /Mrs. / Dr. Future Self,

Hey, I guess that’s what I should begin with, it only seems fitting seeing as I’ve began many a letter and sms with it, do you still do that by the way? Anyway, I digress…. By the time you get this I will only be a memory, a rash moment in your past. I however need you to understand, that I needed to do this, because there are one or two things I need to know from you and another one or two that I need you to know from me. So here goes my one or two or twenty one questions… (I hope you still hate 50cents by the way!)

I ask the questions first because so far I have always been better at asking than answering. Where do I begin…. Are you still as confused as I am about so many things? Do you still love music, jazz, neo-soul, afro-fusion.... do you still close your eyes as you listen to it and let the soulful notes swallow you? And poetry, do you still love it and attempt to write and does it still end up sounding corny and if it does are you still proud of it? Are you still addicted to hot chocolate. (you know what they say, when it’s hot and chocolate you cant go wrong) Are you still stubborn and principled? Are you married? Wait hold up… are you still straight or did you go lesbian? Are you still a spiritual? Did you somewhere along the way let cynicism extinguish your faith? Have you loved yet, loved so deeply like I wanted for you? If you haven’t why haven’t you? If you have, was it reciprocated or unrequited? And no I am not talking of loving a pet! Speaking of pets, did you get that turtle? What did you name he/she/it? Do you still want to be a revolutionary of sorts? Are you a revolutionary of sorts? Oh yeah, and am really curious, do you still talk a lot? Did you maintain your friendships? As much as it pains me to think of this, are mum and dad still alive? What about Ofio? What mischief is he up to nowadays? Are there little critters with that last name and eyes as big as yours? If there are I’m sure they are beautiful, give them a kiss and tell them I love the already, but truth be told, when you were me you weren’t sure you wanted them!

I know I’ve asked more than my fair share. So here are some things I need you to know. I did all I have done, always with your best interests at heart and in mind. Maybe you are who you are now because of all the times that I have refused to sell myself short. And all the times I refused to settle for anything less than the best. I just hope that you don’t regret any of that. I also need you to know that the walls I built around the heart were only to protect me and eventually you, for your sake I hope they didn’t harden as much as I predicted them if I keep on reinforcing them. And the tears I didn’t shed were to make you strong, you need to know that though sometimes tears are good, most of the time they are for the weak, I was just conditioning you not to show your weakness. Am sorry for my current faults, too many to enumerate, I am trying to be a better person for you, and I don’t seem to have the willpower to do it most of the time, forgive me. I’ll keep on trying.

I pray you get to read this, I hope you make it, I have big dreams for you, I hope you fulfill them, I have faith in you, I hope you do me proud but no matter what I love you, I need you to love yourself and I beg you to keep your dignity even If God forbid you loose all else. I am young and green and some of the things I do might end up biting you in the ass, but know that I did it all believing it was for the best. And I hope you’re still fiery, a leo, the passion and zeal can never be extinguished. All the best, don’t forget me, this memory of your past, lying in bed at four in the morning typing this letter to you on Sherby (What happened to her??!!) And I hope you never regret me, this memory of the past

With most love,

The past you.

Of Bullshit packaged in the colours of the rainbow

2007-10-26T09:22:00.000-07:00

I am not one to blog about politics. Don’t get me wrong, I have quite a few political opinions of my own but I’ve never been inclined to share them with anyone. But I read something in the newspapers today that makes me believe that Kenyan politicians have taken it to a whole other level. And it sickens me. Apparently the honorable (And I use this word cynically) Lang’ata MP is pledging to make Kenya the first country in Africa to host the Olympics. What a bunch of utterly senseless and sickening hogwash!! (and that ain’t sugar coating how I feel about it, that’s dipping it in chocolate, covering it with vanilla and adding pink panther sprinkles on top!) Is it that Kenya run out of roads to be repaired or hospitals to be furbished or schools and wells and other crucial facilities to be built? Honestly! Am sick and tired of politicians promising the sun, moon and stars during campaigns and delivering buckets of bullshit instead once they are in office! When will this whole foreplay of “I bullshit you, you bullshit me, who bullshit who” end? When will politicians realize that we don’t need to hear them blowing hot air but we need to see the work done? I believe in using my vote and make no mistake about it I will vote come the general elections in December, but am saddened when I look at my choice of candidates and realize that am not choosing a the better leader but rather the lesser of two evils.

Yet another news article informed me that Aaron Ringera believes that Kenyans will be stuck in a cycle that accelerates corruption in election campaigns unless political parties are funded directly by taxpayers. Ladies and gentlemen need I reiterate earlier sentiments? Well I will. HOGWASH!!! Why should we the hardworking wananchi be browbeaten into giving our hard-earned money to politicians so that they can rent helicopters, litter our streets with annoying flyers and print tacky t-shirts? And all this being done in the name of preventing corruption? That is worse than highway robbery! It’s being told, “You either give me you’re money or I’ll take it from you, choose!” (Sans the black mask and the barrel of a SmithWesson pointed at your temple.)

I believe it’s about time Kenyans stood up and called out our leader’s (And yet again my use of that word is extremely cynical) crap. It’s about time we just stopped listening to them and maybe, just maybe they’ll shut their traps long enough to consider what it is that we want. I realize that this stuff has all been said before but it needs to be said again and am so fed-up I’ll that I’m saying it. Call me young and green but if I ever gain audience with any of these politicians guess what word I will be chanting……………………. HOGWASH!!!!!!!!

Epilogue; And everything in between

2007-10-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

Someone once said to Socrates (A famous philosopher) "Life is hard" and to that Socrates replied "Compared to what?" on the day I read that I had an epiphanic moment of sorts, I got what is commonly referred to as a paradigm shift. So here's my take on living. Life is what you make of it. I believe in causality but I also believe in determinism. It might get a little overwhelming at times but I have made up my mind that even when it does I shall take it all in stride and have a little 'positivity' jus like Stevie Wonder (I love that song by the way!) And I shall hope that each day in whatever way I'll leave a mark on someone somewhere and make their life a little better.

Part 2; love

2007-10-25T09:36:00.000-07:00

Where oh where do I even begin?!! Love. How do I elaborate on a topic the understanding of which is so elusive??!! Ahhh, but never one to be daunted by meanings, propriety or anything of that sort, I'll give it a shot and introduce love as per the gospel of Danice, so here goes.

Love for me is the simplest and basest of things. My mothers caress, my fathers wisdom, my brothers protection, the smell of rain as it hits the earth or of freshly cut grass and a new car, peppermint tea, orchids in bloom, sitting on the rickety chair on my grandfathers porch breathing in the impossibly fresh air and looking out towards the rolling hills covered with tea (Up to date that is one of the most relaxing things to do.)

P.S If you're already bored of reading this by now, sorry coz i'll keep rambling on, so you might as well skip ahead.

Where was I, hmmm, right... Its the feeling I get after a massage or after taking a nice long hot shower, its body shop and the ecstacy it brings to my nose and senses, its the anticipation as I wait to hear from him and the smile on my face when I do or even when I think of him, its listening to music, and talking with my friends and those who understand me, its when those who care for me remember my birthday (Grin, thanx y'all and thanx facebook!!) its when sunshine hits my face on a chilly day, and its falling asleep and having sweet dreams, its curling up on the sofa with my blankie and a good book when its storming outside, watching scented candles as they burn on and on, its those moments when I laugh with glorious abandon, and watching the sunrise or set......................

It is you

It is me

It is God as He reveals Himself all around me, everyday

I could go on and on but I think it shall surmise to say, it is infinity, it is everything and nothing, and am well glad I feel it!!

To be continued...............

Of life, love and everything in between

2007-10-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

I believe antecedence dictates that I write all this stuff about dear diary am sorry for not writing for long blah blah blah but Screw antecedence, lets get right to the nitty-gritty and the brass-tacks now shall we......

#1: OF LIFE
So I turned xxyrs today (Big whopdedoo! - in a wry tone) Strangely everyone else expects it to be a lot of hooplah, but I could be least bothered.
Lets face it, I woke up today at six hating all mornings, I still had to hunt for my sketchbook for half an hour (Finally found it right under my nose - don't you just hate Murphy and that bloody law of his!) gave up looking for my coloured pencils and had to buy my thousandth pack (If I buy another pack Faber Castell should make me a honorary lifetime shareholder!), enjoyed my long (Body Shop Infused!) shower (It is a personal belief of mine that the way to a mans heart may be through his stomach but the way to a womans heart is most definately through body shop!!), hurried to finish last minute assignments(If ever a pathological procrastinator existed then I am she!) went to school looking forward to my cup of peppermint tea at wings (My new addiction, which at 4 bucks a cup I might not be able to sustain it for long!) Refused to stand around and kiss the prime ministers ass (He doesnt turn my Sukuma wiki gren soooo...) and decided to sit in the courtyard and write this instead..................
Where was I going with this, urm...... Oh yeah, my point is that nothing has changed, am still the person I was yesterday and the day before that, so this year all my birthday wishes will be forwarded to my parents for they are the ones who did all the hard work (Giving birth, whooping my ass as often as was required, kissed my wounds and tucked me into bedand most importantly give me my allowance every month;@) therefore it should be Happy Birthday Mum and Dad for surviving/putting up another year with me and upholding the Darwinian Theory to the tee (Parents with less patience and tolerance would definately be baying for my blood by now had they been forced to put up with my antics for both the 19years of my life!) And Last but not least to God, for through it all I have his grace and mercies which if were exhaustible.............

Back to school

2007-10-25T09:33:00.001-07:00

Back to school again! I really dont know whether to be happy or sad or ......... its just that those 3 words "Back to school" dont evoke as much feeling as they used to a few years back. When going back to school was the most bittersweet experience ever. It was great in that you got to meet and hang out with your pals and swap all these exciting stories about what you had been up to during the holidays (Being in an al gurls school these were definately interesting stories - wink!) and basically get back to the warm camaderie with your friends. But that was only the first night, then came the waking up at five and constant hunger (This still remains a mystery because I could eat a whole loaf at breakfast and be hungry less than four hours later!) and the writing of notes which was particularly displeasurable for me due to my short concentration span, and the rules and reading and studying and exams and lack of sleep!!!!

Now am sitting here ruminating on the fact that tomorrow marks the beggining of a new sem for me and all I can think about is that I hope I can get all my work done in time to be home for the christmas holidays. School has become just another cursory experience, not wanting to change it and yet not wanting to be part of it. Another process I must go through, like eating shitting or sleeping.

So yeah, I sit here and think to myself, "another semester begins" and nothing really shifts inside of me.

FREEEEE

2007-10-25T09:32:00.001-07:00

I went out sailing on Wednesday (against my better jugement given my extreme fear for large masses of cold water!!) and as we were out on the ocean, crusing across the glassy water surface, breeze on my cheeks, a spray of water lightly tickling my face, I felt something I didn't know could possibly be felt. For the first time in my life, I felt truly free. And it was exhilirating. free of any burdening thoughts, free from my worries, and all the baggage of reality that chains me just melted away, and the bliss I felt was indescribable. For those precious few moments.................as I took deep breaths of the salty ocean air, filling my lungs with its freshness.................I understood how God reaveals Himself in the simplest of pleasures, making them unique experiences for those who only dare to let themselves feel it. And I must admit, it was wonderful!!

PROUD TO BE AN AFRICAN WOMAN

2007-10-25T09:31:00.001-07:00

Today I read an article by Ali Mazrui on why Africa has so few female heroines, and I must say I was a little appalled. So here I am making a journal entry giving my point of view on that subject. And to understand my opinion I have to share with you afew things about me.
When I was young, I was such a tomboy (Anyone who knows my mom would be shocked at this revalation!! she is such a lady!!) . I would climb trees and play soccer (i still, have the scars!!) and thanks to the influence of my brother and his friends i'd do all this extreeeeeemly "unladylike" things. And I loved it. I loved it so much that there were times when I would be on the verge of tears cursing tha fact that I was born a girl and not a boy.
But I grew up. and slowly by slowly I started appreciating the fact that I was female, and even seeing a few advantages of this, but I was not yet fully comortable with this fact. There was still the tomboy in me. I still wore baggy clothes and listened to dre and snoopdogg and held dreams of becoming a rapper/DJ (Good Lord I cant believe am writing this in a public site!!)
However I have now grown into a woman. And I am proud to be one. I look at women throughout history and I love the fact that I am female. I look at my mother, how she walks with grace and elegance, with her held high and I see in her a strength which no man will ever posses. And am not being a feminist, I appreciate the fact that there are men on earth, and I would be lying if i said I dont appreciate their contribution to society (Lord knows they definately make good eye candy!!)
Everywhere I go, in the slums I see women who struggle and sacrifice to feed their children, never once complaining, dispite their circumstances, and I say to myself "Screw superman, These are my heroines!" I draw my inspiration from them, The countless scores of women who have significantly changed life, never seeking recognition for it, nor glory and fame. Today I pay tribute to them, to many to mention, because everyday more join their ranks. I salute them and wish them God's speed wherever they are, and send out my silent thanks, and pray that I keep their spirit burning.
I am an African woman, and I wouldn't change this for the world! And maybe, jut maybe someday I will be a heroine in my own right.

Your heart's desire

2007-10-25T09:30:00.001-07:00

I was watching Justice League today (Am a huge fan of that cartoon by the way, actually its more of an addiction but thats a story for another day) and this bad guy had trapped superman with this plant that traps you in a virtual dimension of your hearts greatest desires. As I was watching it I thought how cool it would be to be trapped in such a fantasy life and so i started imagining what mine would be like and what i pictured was............ blank. And by blank I don't mean like fill in the details and draw your own conclusion kinda blank, i mean like nothing, empty, void, utter black, zero, zilch, nada kinda blank. And that was when I came to the startling realisation that I have no fucking idea what my hearts greatest desires are. Either that or they are so jumbled up and mixed up that I cant make head or tail of them.
I know they say that ignorance is bliss but to be ignorant to the extent of not knowing my deepest desire, thats just wrong!! Of course there's the obvious ones like I really and truly desire world peace (Seriously!!!) and all that other mumbo-jumbo, but for now I really have to work on finding out what I really really desire coz am stumped!
Do you know what your deepest desire is?? Honestly?!

Yadiyadayadida

2007-10-25T09:28:00.001-07:00

So am sitted here looking for something to distract me from doin my assignments and guess what I realise........... I have a journal....YAY!! Anyhuuuuuuuuuuu, What to write, what to write, lets seeeee..... Today am goin to be abit random, am goin to write about something dear to my heart, food!! if you were one of those people whose sentenced to death and its the day of the execution and you're told to pick your last meal, anything you want, what would you pick?
The first thing that came to my mind as I thought about this was the mint mocha from wings, ave said this a thousand times and ama say it again, its simply divine!! then I thought of this rice from Rama (this faboulous Thai resturant) it's fried with chicken and cashew nuts, aaaaaaaaaaaaah, am getting hungry just thinking about it, afew more other things come to mind but for dessert what I have in mind is this choclate cake from wings, dark chochlate, tender and and........ oooh I can't talk about it, you have to have it to understand, the feeling when you have the first bite is....... nothing short of exquisite!!!
okay, time to haul my tired choclate cake craving self to get some beauty sleep..... tata!!

????

2007-10-25T09:21:00.001-07:00

I've never been any good at keeping journals. Am one of those people who begins then gets distracted and can never seems to get past entry number 3 (Daddy why couldn’t you just give me the good hair genes instead of short attention span? Now am stuck with unruly hair and a severe case of ADD - Attention deficit disorder) Anyhuuuuuu, I'm sitted here by the pool at this very ungodly hour (it's some minutes to 3 in the morning - I really have to stop taking those extra strong frappucinos before bed!) and I'm thinking that I should just start another journal, after all, even though I don't jot as a routine it will be fun to look back at the stupid entries later on, like when I read the hilarious things I used to write on my childhood crushes, haha, lol!!(Cracks me up all the time)

In fact, I think I'll pick that thread of thought for this particular entry, crushes, relationships and all that gibbergabber. Well, here goes nothing.......

DISCLAIMER: Ave always been a problem maker not a problem solver so if you’re expecting this to be one of those Oyuga Pala like columns where I spout answers to all of life’s questions, think again. This is just a pensieve for all of my jumbled thoughts i form of many, many unanswered questions. Thou can proceedeth reading.........

Ok, lemme put it this way, mix big mouths, love and numerous other raw emotions, guys, gurlz and a ton of time, what do you get? (don't think with the 1+1=2 mentality) .....nope, not a script for a cheesy romance movie, uhuh, not a socially defunct 18 year old(well maybe, but not exactly) guess again...... yep you got it right, the main conversation topic and goings on in this poorly written script I proudly call my life.

What is it with me nowadays, Its like everywhere I turn people are talking about relationships, relationship drama relationship karma, relationships in summer, relationships this, relationships that!! From my friends to music to movies and tv to the net. Even when I eavesdrop on random strangers(Don't act all shocked I know you do it also) everyone is talking about their relationships - Oh yeah, with a few exceptions like when me and the guys are discussing life changing events like todays arsenal/chelsea match.

Did diversity in conversation die and get buried along with J. F. Kennedy? or has it always been this way? or maybe its just the people who I hang ou with.

Between all my friends I feel like am stuck in a bad re-run of Days of Our Lives. And to make matters worse I get to play the character who has to listen to it all. Who's just gotten a new boyfriend, who's cheating on who, who slept with who's boyfriend, who fought with who, you catch my drift? Its no wonder am exasperated enough to write a journal!

Is this what it all boils down to? Do we(read humans) survive on scandal and drama, in fact feed off it? A friend of mine the other day told me that she can't bear the thought of being alone (as in not in a relationship) and it got me to thinking, is it a basic primal instinct to be in a relationship and does this particular instinct form a suppressed but largely important cornerstone of the society we live in? Or is just an over-rated facet of our lives that will fade slowly as we age and the wrinkles set in? Or on the other hand maybe its not age-restricted and we'll be fifty and meeting for lunch to discuss whose husband is not good in bed or whose getting 70% of the assets in the divorce.

As I said before, I have lots of questions in my mind and not nearly enough answers so my journal entries might not make lots of sense.

That’s all for now, my I-pod's charge is running low and the caffeine in my system is wearing off so this confused gurl will go get some shut eye and wake up in a few hours and drag her sorry behind into a boring 3hour comm studies lecture on the morning! Damn!!

CHIARZ!!

OKAY AM HERE TO STAY NOW< SERIOUSLY LAH!!

2007-10-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

okay so the funny thing is I realised I have a blog!! after all this time posting in other fishy places which I shall not name I have decided to finally settle down and have one blog patner (Oh my goodness am going monogamous, what is this world coming toooo!!!) SO I'm gathering alllll other scattered posts and thoughts and putting them here! (Teeheehee, this is like the stage of the relationship when you move in together!!)

Disclaimer: Anyone attempting to read my posts should note that am not an amazingly witty and eloquent writer, I cannot play with words like an expert wordsmith, my mind is kinda slow and works in a twisted incoherent sequence of thought, I do not wield metaphors, vocabulary, ryhmes, hyperbole and assonance like some form of intellectual foreplay as most good writers would. I simply write what I think and feel and the most I can hope for is that there wont be any spelling mistakes

Okkkkkkkkkaaay, now that you have been officially warned let get to posting shall we!! Tralalalala, the madness has begun.......

FREEDOM!!!

2007-06-04T00:16:00.000-07:00

Am freeeeeeeeeeeeee. Am done with my semester, and good riddance too. No more Struggling to think of excuses to give my lecturers pertaining to why I missed class. No more feeling that twinge of guilt when I sleep till 2.00 and miss a lecture. And best of all no more struggling to catch up with a shitload of assignments that can drive someone up the figurative wall. What do I get in exchange, unlimited access to sleep.com. Yep, I can sleep as much as I want. I finally get to go swimming at whatever time I want, no more staring at people from my balcony and wishing it was me!!! I get to watch astro all day long (Gots ta pay the bill first but thats trivial) And I dont have any excuse for not hitting the gym now so I guess thats on the agenda as well as lots n lots a bloggin'! Don't worry dear page I shall ignore you no longer (This said very dramatically!!) Anyhu, to my first agenda, I shall now proceed to sleep for 24 hours straight and dream of eating lots of eggs benedict and drinking lotsa mint mocha
Ciao..... for now

Posta Numero Uno (Can you tell am dotting?)

2007-05-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

So this current bloggerdiction craze is sweeping across the world and after much resistance I decided to get myself swept up in it and whadyu know, here I am posting in my very own blogsite.
Firstly, sorry 4 the lame name (Hey that rhymed, teeheehee) but it's 5.00 in the morning, I havent slept all night and I have an exam in 4 hours so thats the best I could come up with.
Now al be extremely frank and acknowledge that being a newbie I'm eager to do a bit of tinkering and see what I can do to make my blog page more interesting (Geez, sound like a kid in a candy store, and to make it worse I kinda feel like one too..... uuuuuuuuugh!!) N e who,,,,, on with my tinkering, when I post again maybe the site will be different.