Your New Year Resolutions Are Doomed To Fail. Here’s Why.

A guest post by Barbara

It’s been more than a fortnight now since the New Year arrived and we were once again plagued with thoughts of the goals we’d like to accomplish this year (dear Jesus let me accomplish just one thing on this list). And once again, sadly but surely, we are doomed to fall into the rut of trying, failing, trying, failing and then finally resigning ourselves to failure.  

Come on. You know who you are.

The reason why our New Year Resolutions always fail is quite simple. They’re made in the New Year. Why, pray thee, must you wait 365 days to decide what changes you ought to be making in your life? Why, pray thee, do you somehow believe that the power of a fresh year is all you need to propel you into achievement? Sure, it helps to have a clean slate, but if a clean slate is all we have, then folks, we don’t have much. It’s like expecting Ernest Hemingway to channel through your fingers simply because you have a pencil and a blank sheet of paper in front of you.

Now, let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater. It is helpful to have that pencil and the blank sheet of paper. Now all that remains to happen is as simple as it is arduous:

Do the work.

Want to lose weight and get ripped? Do the work.

Want to learn something new and dominate the class? Do the work.

Want to be a success and be a real boss? …

Expect to sweat, plan to lose sleep and prepare to flex your muscles. Make a do-able plan and actually DO IT. Every. Single. Day.

Note: I asked folks on Twitter & Facebook to contribute to the cause that is #CuminWrites366. Barbara is the first contributor to be published; here’s to many more and Thank You Barbara!

Advertisements

Longer than your average

Even your friendly under-the-rock dweller has seen a few of the #FeesMustFall tweets and has an idea of the demands of SA students. A tweet from Ndinda reminded me today of the place of history in protests; the way the past, the present and the future meet every so often to fortify.

Once in a (long, thankfully) while, I post something personal on the internets. This is one of those moments. Not so much the feels as a minor explainer about the way I feel about politics and history.

My parents had me quite young and in a sense, I grew up with them. When this happens, your parent is learning lessons, navigating life, with you by their side. So it was that in the 90s, my father left our little home to go to Kamukunji, to take part in the Saba Saba protests. So it was that our household, led by a woman because her partner was in school, almost saw the chance of a brighter future taken away because that partner had been visited by state functionaries. His crime: writing and editing an incendiary magazine at his college, chumming about with Wafula Buke and the lot.

For many years, before I understood how women can be eliminated from the narratives of the revolution, I considered my father the revolutionary . My mother, well, she was Mummy. Bread and broth on a Saturday morning, love, the one who spoke my first language. Not a revolutionary. Yes, the student of history (one of the only 2 As I scored in KCSE) thought that being lobbed with teargas was the measure.

Women hold the planet up, women sustain the revolution. For this reason, I am terribly excited about the fact that the protests are being led by young women. Listen, my maternal grandmother was a news junkie (I know where that comes from) and when Nelson Mandela was released and went on to spurn Winnie, she reminded my mother who it was of the two of them that had kept the struggle alive; who it was that had continued to risk their life.

Women have been written out of revolutions for so long, it’s refreshing to see them front and centre now. African women, black women, outspoken women who will not be silenced like their mothers, their grandmothers, their aunties. Women like my grandmother who, over 10 years after Kenya gained independence, still had no photo ID that was just hers. Women like my mother, who had to be issued a passport on a man’s file, my father’s.

I have been paying attention to history for a while; what option do I have with a family like mine? And yet, I absorbed the falsehoods that are wrapped up in a product created by the oppressor. What I know is that 12 years of studying History in Kenya had me believing that Jomo Kenyatta was a hero, that the land question was answered when the White Men left power, that the oppression of the Black person ended when the White Men left, that the face of freedom and progress is a man’s. These women stand the real risk of being erased, being forgotten, and the girls of the future believing what I too believed for so long; women are not revolutionaries.

Teach your children these truths: the Mau Mau had women among their ranks, say the names of the women who fought oppressors (Mekatilili wa Menza, Wangari Maathai, Winnie Madikizela Mandela), teach them that women fuel the revolution, they feed it, they strengthen it, they instruct it, they lead it. Teach them what the revolution looks like.

And to my mother: Thank you for keeping my father and I alive with food, love and support during those years. Thank you for telling me the stories of the women in our family who fought against the forces that tried to keep us down, thank you for keeping my grandmother’s memory alive these 20 years. Thank you for doing the valuable, unappreciated, undervalued work that is care. Thank you for those stories about the past that are really glimpses of the past, history primers. Thank you for saying the names of those people and those places that this country would rather forget. May I never again forget.

Asante, asante, asante.

Note: I have undertaken to write a post a day for a year. I’m collating all the posts (spanning 3 blogs) using the hashtag #CuminWrites366. If you have questions,compliments, or want to find out where the bodies are hidden, the address is kenyanwithattitude@gmail.com

Just pull the trigger

That video is characteristic of this blog sometimes….so way off topic that it’s sensible [maybe]

I went to my uncle’s funeral on the 30th of last month. Hence the title…as it was a police funeral…

My trigger is Psalm 23…the priest [my (maternal) family is Anglican] read it out and all my sadness came spilling out. All the tears I hadn’t cried since the ones I had cried when I called my mum across the country on the day he died (March 24) and cried as I walked in a mall…

Psalm 23 (New King James Version)

A Psalm of David.

1 The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell[a] in the house of the LORD
Forever.

Loss, ag. Loss is hard, it’s painful, it’s like that itch you can’t scratch but you can’t stop thinking of. Loss is listening to words of condolence & not hearing them. Loss. Loss is wanting the person you love to call you so you have someone to cry to and not being able to call them yourself because you don’t know what to say when they pick the phone.

I told X these things on Saturday (the 10th) but I’ll say them here:

My uncle was my mum’s older brother and he was there for me from the time I was little…including listening to my advice as a 2 year old: ‘Mama — wendo wa cash money ni hatari'<<Kikuyu phrase I’d picked up on radio that roughly translates to ‘The love of cash money is dangerous’, ‘Mama’ being the Kikuyu word for Uncle, specifically maternal uncle, as a paternal one is called ‘Baba'(father)  like you would call your own. The things I didn’t listen to as a child…. 😀 Or believing in my ability to be a great driver…and praising my skills to anyone who’d care to listen…even when I needed his help to go up a hill in my manual transmission car…

My uncle…who let his children drift away from him for ages till my mum practically strong-armed his ex-wife into suing for child support…and who, surprisingly, took up the task like he had been waiting to be prodded. My uncle who had big dreams for his sons. My cousin who was informed of his father’s death by a motorcycle taxi rider because his mother, my uncle’s first wife, was waiting for him at home….waiting to tell him face to face. My cousin who’s now fatherless, bereft of the father that was my uncle.

The man who was HIV+ (I shall not sweep matters under the carpet for a second longer) and told no-one. NO-one….when we would have been here to support him. He died from menengitis, an almost-always definite killer for those with the virus. Oh, what for lack of telling we suffer. The man who my uncle, his last born brother, was scared to tell, “Go get tested,” because he was always larger than life….even when he was ravaged by the virus.

This man who went back to Police College to get promoted, who made an idiot of all those who stereotype the Kenya Police. He read books (‘The Constant Gardener’ at his death), he never stole (and trust me, not for lack of opportunity)… This man who put family first even though he faltered sometimes.

My uncle who I thought I knew yet who made me realise that in death your not-knowing is that much greater. My uncle who sacrificed to make sure his siblings went to school at a time when my grandfather was going through a rough patch. He that looked, and acted, so much like his father, my grandfather. A man of honour, a resilient man, a man of quiet strength.

The man who, even though it would have been easy to resent my mother for her child-support machinations, always treated her with respect. So much respect that he was one of the first of my mother’s people to embrace my father; a man from another tribe who had put his sister in the family way…because he saw my father’s honour would not allow him to let me grow up fatherless.

My uncle who saw the end coming and called his first and second wives to his bedside-to make peace. My uncle whose first wife used to peel my cousin (his first son) and I plums during plum season & pears during pear season when I lived at my grandfather’s place as a child. My aunt, his first wife, who was the first person who was an aunt to me; my mother having been brought up, like me, sisterless. My aunt who made me a doll with buttons and cloth that I swiftly discarded at the birth of her first son…because I preferred a real baby 🙂 My aunt who has always loved me like her own…who would never have come into my life without my uncle.

My uncle who showed me and my mother how much he loved us in his distinctly African way. With actions, actions, actions. Who looked out for my aunt L & her family even though they were not his kin (by blood, or choice-as they are mine), who looked out for us during post-election violence; who spirited his sons to safety during that period.

I could go on forever….but this is my tribute to a great man. I hope no uncle of mine dies on me in this fashion again…with me having been silent on him…not letting him know I love him in words; not knowing all the dimensions to him. My uncle who showed me how fleeting life is…who didn’t live to be 50, or see his son go to college. Who made me rethink the way I treat the people I love [Ah, you know I love you], who made me realise how isolating death and loss are. My uncle whose death has made me more forgiving of others (like my friend whose father died on the 5th of this month and was buried today, who had not told me he was dying of cancer….before my uncle’s death, I’d have been wounded by her not-telling….but when I think back to MY not-talking about his illness…..) who died to make me love people more fiercely.

My first police funeral was of a man I deeply respected. As I leave you with this song by The Script, all I can say is….as the song says…..the truth of these words is terribly immense:

When your heart breaks, it doesn’t break even

There are all these little bits to put together….but we shall survive.

A few of my favorite things

I got this cover of the original song from ‘Sound of Music’ and I couldn’t resist 🙂

So here’s a list (for when I forget 🙂 )

  1. Music: Well, who doesn’t? There’s always that song that captures your mood, lifts your spirit, expresses what you can’t put into words…ah, music
  2. Silly stuff…: Wouldn’t measure up to randomness if all I did was the serious stuff, now would I? Would I??? *wearing maniacal ‘ANSWER ME!’ look* I thought not!
  3. Punctuality: Am I the only one who doesn’t enjoy waiting? It really gets my goat [I love that expression]
  4. Affirmation: Anyone who’s been tuning in for episodes might have noticed this but there, I said it. I think we all like that someone to (sort of) vindicate us [I used to love that word when I was 16…I wonder why…]
  5. Hugs: I’m a sucker for those…as is one Mo…who I have not heard from for yonks. He’s great with hugs…him & X (most times, sometimes they feel cursory-I *do not* like cursory hugs) & 2BF5 & Jay (his are really awesome, they involve spinning me round and round-usually in malls…fun times)
  6. Communication: I talked about this in my last post. How I’ll stop nagging X about that topic but I’ll state it here for the record: I try to communicate with people but a reticence on your part really won’t earn you any favours. It turns out being in a relationship with the non-communicator makes me tetchy. Enough said. I find that it’s so easy you simply have no reason not to (other than you don’t want to, pure and simple in which case I get a hint!) reply to e-mail, texts, messages…pick the phone (Quite passive, you see) but what I really cherish is the active communicator. The one who sends the e-mail/text/message…the one who calls. One of the many reasons why I love 2BF5…
  7. The world & all in it: I really love this planet. It’s so tiny and yet so large in terms of the diversity you find in it. Aah, I love you Mother Earth & I love you World 🙂
  8. A person who gets along with my friends: As you might have gathered, my friends are pretty all-sorts (Understatement of the Century) so I quite like folks who can get along with most of my friends. I can assure you, ALL is pushing it quite a tad…
  9. Kisses: I love me a good smooch, I do. Those ones that take you away…especially in my dreams where I’ve had lots of those as opposed to real life where I’m saving all my love [cue Whitney Houston pre-drugs singing ‘Saving All My Love’] (and my kisses, too, apparently) for The One [capitalisation is of utmost importance-this is not an issue one can toy with :D]. I think all the Latin men I have watched have raised the bar-I better not be disappointed 🙂 Couldn’t help throwing in this video for entertainment’s sake:
  10. Touch: I speak a language called Touch. What it means is that if you want to communicate how you feel about me, touching me is a good option. Also, I only touch people I like. If I have had physical contact with you, be assured, I like you. Though of course anyone who thinks of a hug as touch had latched on this 🙂
  11. Honesty: No matter how bad the truth is, Just Say It! It’ll be that much worse when I discover it. It really grinds my gears when I practically have to drag information out of someone. Really, if you’d told me we’d have moved that much faster…
  12. Transparency: No, not TI, that body those of us in some parts of Africa associate with damning corruption reports but rather saying it as it is. Obfuscation is so irritating… Yes, I can hear you saying I said honesty above but how else was I going to throw in ‘obfuscation’? 😀
  13. A good listener: Who doesn’t love a good listener? Also the person who doesn’t tune out (yes, it’s you I’m talking to, you know yourself..) They’re so hard to find…but also so valuable once you do…
  14. Compliments: Just not about my hair…J/K I loooove compliments so I give them quite freely. I know more than one girl who has been left wondering about my orientation but I love compliments so if you see me, you know what to do 🙂
  15. A love of family: My family means a lot to me so institutions, people, who respect family count for a lot to me…Viva la familia!
  16. Food: I love food, really I do. I plan meals in advance, I walk halfway across town for food offers, I explore a new culture through its food. I wouldn’t go as far as calling myself a gourmand like one Mo has, but hey 🙂

Part of the reason I wrote this is because I lost my uncle yesterday and I thought about how loss occurs so easily and how forgetting is something that we are all susceptible to. My next post will be listless [no, not in the ‘she looked listless’ sense :D] but this is for memories’ sake.

Also, this blog sometimes veers into ‘Love Jude‘ territory-that being the title of a book where the blogger/diarist is obsessed with her boyfriend Oren & every post is about him. I saw that in myself when I re-read it the other day. Hilarious though it is, I spend a lot of time talking about X and maybe, as a book called ‘Sex & Sensibility’ by some Christian bloke called Steve Ayers suggests, my other relationships suffer as a result.

Situation shall be rectified.

🙂

To round it all off, here’s Makmende, the Kenyan phenomenon spun by an experimental Kenyan group (too funny, *they* describe themselves as such), Just  A Band, that has supposedly gone viral. Enjoy & I’ll catch you later 🙂

Functional Dysfunction

(Or ‘How to stay chaste in an oversexed world’)

So I’ve realised I’m a nag. Really, I am. I have the ability to talk about, and pursue, one topic past the point where anyone is interested. I’m turning into my mother…not a source of mirth but hey, it’s better than turning into say, a troll (amongst other things) Scratch that, my mum’s pretty awesome so…..but I digress.

Now, my favourite nagopic (nag meets topic to create) is communication. I can talk about it forever with Mr Man, aka X. The poor guy has heard so many versions of the same thing till he probably recites what I say (my repertoire of lines is that limited) but I found a new one over the weekend. It’s not going to be good for him…especially considering what I’m going on about… [Edit 24.3.10 I spoke to X yesterday and promised him I’d stop with the nagging…a long-term birthday gift, if you will, being as it was his big day]

Now, to stay chaste in an oversexed world, I recommend:

#1 Staying away from your preferred gender (I’m being inclusive here): Em, once you start, you can’t stop… Not that I would know but humour me..

#2 Running (yes, I know I said running) away from erotic dancers. Here I can speak with authority… On Saturday I had the pleasure of spending time with a friend I’ll call 2BF5 (ask not..OK, ask later) who is one raunchy dancer. But, as I have a little, umm, shall we say, ‘situation’, the dancing was terribly unsettling. A girl has urges….don’t stoke them!! I should have run, but he’s so much fun (woop! woop! we had us a rhyme there) so I stayed through the torture, the pain, the agony, and the shaking pelvis (grinding is more like it but let’s not even go there) Torture!!!

#3 Not talking about ‘It’ in any form. Really, it works. As long as you don’t discuss how your boyfriend is the last person that would be your baby’s father were you to fall pregnant (this is not to say I have had this conversation with anyone….) you’re almost home dry. It’s as easy as it sounds, except for the exclusion. The exclusion only succeeds at making the said boyfriend sound umm, incapable 😉

#4 Read the Bible or similar religious book (but let’s speak of the Bible for the purpose of this post):  Really!! Think of all the punishment that awaits you, ignore any offers of forgiveness from God and keep your legs clamped. It may take some effort (reading the Bible in my case) and you might end up like Shoshannah (not real name, to protect the privacy of the (now) long dead) but TOUGH! Man up! Or the female equivalent of manning up…

It’s been long, my next post will be longer…

I hope…but take my advice 😀

My real name is Lady Gaga

Turns out I’m unconventional…

I hadn’t planned on doing anything for Valentine’s day mostly because I have never done anything for Valentines Day (sort of kinda like) but I got X postcards just in case he popped a surprise on me and gave me a gift & I was giftless. And wrote touchy-feely (surprisingly honest) messages on them… I’m getting better at this relationship business :D….

Went for a piano recital at Starehe Boys’ Centre on the 13th… Ned Kirk is a pretty awesome pianist, even though I walked out of Liszt to go walk & talk with my friend Lim as well as meet his brother Clem. During which time X, who would meet me there, called me and I didn’t pick my phone. Had left it with my cousin Sasha (great kid) who was a very random Plus One for the day. Anyway, after we had all met (X, Sasha, Lim & I – see, I’m introducing X to my family….girlfriend behaviour!!!) X & I decided our children will go to school there (sorry, Alliance High School-now that’s wifey behaviour)

We went back to the City centre & ended up at Maasai Market- a large curio market open on Saturdays & Sundays at the High Court parking lot. As we walked, I told X I really want to get an old school camera & a dark room and he said, “So I need to start saving up for dark room equipment.”  as well as positing that it was influence from ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’ . To which I replied to the effect that that created the impression that we’d still be together when I wanted those. He got royally pissed, asking me why I ‘do that’ (What? Cast doubts? Yes, he says….) I don’t know, sometimes I don’t feel like I know where this is going (says Miss I have his postcards in my bag) but I got reassurance.

What else? We ended up going for Love is Kenya where so many great contemporary Kenyan musicians were performing….

🙂 🙂 Nairobi kuna solar sana/ Kijijini ni ku-poa sana 🙂 🙂

and I saw H, my dad’s friend and his son, Tim. Totally random. Tim told me today that I saw his dad because H had spotted me across the area (the Nairobi National Museum) and had come over to say hi. Anyway, X’s friend R made me really uncomfortable when he turned to me when the clock struck 12 on the 14th, and X said Happy New Year! [yes, Chinese] to tell me, “You guys should be kissing and making out…” Really, almost stranger? Don’t mess with my head… Plus X & I got tired of standing at some point and ended up sleeping on a concrete pavement (very rock star behaviour….) and he launches a talklet about how our being horizontal wasn’t a source of action. I have never received such overt ‘get laid, start making out’ sentiments from a person. But from a person who doesn’t know me well, and who I tried cracking a joke about my wearing a chastity belt to (if only for the purpose of clarity) that was a discomfiting experience. That and so much more innuendo didn’t really provide entertainment. But X singing Sauti Sol & Dela’s ‘Mama Papa’

(for me? I would hope so….) was quite something. I love the singing, his singing…always have [chalk that up with ‘part of X’s charm’]

Anyway, we all went home in the end (proud to say I took a mat both ways… Yay me) and I spent the next day picking belated birthday cake, going to L’s house to eat it & get tales & finally going back to my room. Happy Valentine’s Day, The Shaboozle.

Monday: Exam 1 at 0900 (I have exams till the 26th & here I am blogging, he he). Saw J & B for cake and fun times. Pretty awesome. J copied lots of music & affirmed me: she’s my emotional twin, I swear. She kept urging me to study for the paper I have in slightly over 3 hours (at this point) but I had that planned for yesterday & today, I’ll have you know.

Yesterday, Tuesday the 16th: I went for French class (yes, I started attending those) and met X afterwards. Fun times 🙂 🙂 I had a bit of pseudo-drama with asking how it was I didn’t get a Valentine’s gift (we call it Val’s around  here) and all but I had a moment of clarity when he said he didn’t see  the point of doing something for someone on Val’s. But it’s convention, I say. Since when did you follow convention? Touche, X, touche. And there it was, the truth… I was upset he hadn’t faked it too… So yes, I will get gifts at random times 🙂

I had thought of Marie as I did my laundry in the morning so imagine my pleasant surprise when I saw her at the mall where X and I were having this conversation. The National Geographic crew (X & I) spoke while we girls had fun and talked & I told her about the giftlessness. Talking to my sister (yes, she is) made me realise I didn’t really want a gift. I don’t do the things other people do, why do I judge myself by their standards in my relationship? Why do I want to be physical, to celebrate something I don’t care for (because I love him *all* the time)? To fit in? Because I had candidly said it to X before Marie & I came… a gift was just for adding to the pool of stories girls have, not for my wanting. Speaking to her reminded me why she’s my sister…it’s always great to have someone who questions you but also affirms your choices (yes, the issue where I’ve only garnered support with SSS & my twin)…

Marie, X & I are going for Manjano, The Nairobi Province Visual Arts Exhibition, on Saturday. Plus today us girls go for a film that’s part of Alliance Francaise’s offerings of French films this week (Images From France)… Fun times ahead… feedback very soon.

Last but definitely not least…I got a letter from my brother on Friday… It made my day… I love that boy. Wherever I go, I know I have his love. And that counts for a lot 🙂

I’ll leave you with a video of Rick Lau’s ‘Men in Love’ which gathered critical reviews and snippets of which I heard on the BBC. I especially love a bit form this performance where a (gay) man, on realising his lover has run off with their neighbour mourns on the loss of his lover, his car keys (and hence his car), his stereo….and especially, his “Lady Gaa-gaa  CD” Enjoy

Nishike pole pole mimi ni bibi ya wenyewe

Which loosely translates to: Hold me slowly, I am the wife of others

I turned 21 on Saturday, 30th January.

I had an interesting day….Or rather, an interesting 3 days 🙂

January 29th: I begged a phone off my friend E, saw a Facebook post by my friend that’s usually referred to as SSS (Sole Soul Sister) and called her. Yes, I would have wine and chocolate with her (yes, my non-drinking self would have wine and chocolate, stop staring 🙂 ) and yes, she could sleep in my room as part of that ritual called ‘The Sleepover’. Signpost in my head: This Way To Fun Times. I met her and her friend Charles, an amiable guy, after her boyfriend of 2 years (time is important, just keep reading) left her in my care. We went to the food court at the mall we were at, I told them a funny X-related story, and we bought wine after unsuccessfully trying to buy soda. Translation: We left the soda in the trolley for so long, the guys at the supermarket (wisely) decided we didn’t want it 😀 We met Jay & Co, went back to the supermarket….and the 2 of us ended up in my room 😉 he he he

It was interesting… Around her I am not reticent…at all. I didn’t need the tongue-loosening powers of wine to get me talking. About how down I had been in the 1.5 years we had been apart. About X. I’ve known her for the last 7 years and in a sense she is me…I can trust her. That, for me, counts for a lot. And she let me speak about how the absence of [intense] physical displays of affection in my relationship with X had got me confused, should we say bewildered. That >6 months into it, all we had done is hold hands…And here was a person saying that which I had wanted so badly to hear: Let it be…don’t rush it and look back and think to yourself: This, not that, is the right moment [though I momentarily forgot her advice the next day]. Everyone around me, minus my twin, has created the impression that the absence of a make-out session up to this point signals the presence of a malfunction in my sentiments for this boy, a quirk on his part….[not that my virginity pledge doesn’t complicate issues]… I was happy to know she has been happy. Because as the person I could always trust to pull me out of the doldrums, I wanted; need, actually; her happy. And she is. I’m not playing catch-up again 🙂

January 30th: I woke up on the morning of the birthday to the presence of SSS, A gift I have not received since she transferred schools when she was 16 & I 15. It was a better gift than any I could have asked for. Having X call me to meet him close to my hall of residence [“Meet me Halfway”]

and meeting him… E and SSS had met the day before [during the time at the mall] so when E came, they had time to bond after SSS had had time to speak to X. X & I were left in my room, I snoozed, E & SSS waited for almost an hour and IT happened.

IT: My roommate’s best friend walking in on me sleeping with X lying next to me. We looked so chaste; almost like 6 year old cousins having their Sunday nap on the same bed. My 4 year old cousin & I have had scenes like that, my 9 year old brother…no biggie. I had my eyes closed [not least because I was asleep], he didn’t…no cause for her reaction. Effusive apologies, almost like she had found us doing SOMETHING [your mind is now allowed to wander…] and the humour of the situation not being lost 🙂  SSS & E called me post-bonding and I went off to the city (all of 10 minutes away) to get drinks for my party-let as well as meet Marie & our mutual friend I.

Marie, X, I & I all headed to the Nairobi National Museum [a great place to have any sort of event…] where J, her boyfriend K [no jokes], her friend S, and our friend B were waiting for us…Getting high on soda is a plan; as X and my previous run-ins with Coca Cola products have shown.  We drank litres of the stuff, played random games, got to know each other, talked, made fun of each other & made up for lost (friendship) time. I was told, by J, how after a series of arguments she had urged K to ‘court her’ a romantic notion that included chasing her like the past months hadn’t happened. X & I clocked 7 months on my birthday and J was tired 2 months into her relationship & SSS had logged 2 years in one relationship. Time is so fleeting and yet we attach so much to it…

We all walked (I joke not, past 1800) to the city centre-ish with Marie & I walking in front of us. J asked me for more than a year if X and I were going out and the answer never changed: No. But our body language, mirrored so clearly in my friends’, said it all. We liked each other….a lot 😉 J had asked me what the deal was but being as I had asked the girl half and it had said pretty much nothing,  I wasn’t pushing it. Oh, but after we had walked into the city & were about to order dinner, they decided to leave. There’s never been a moment, surrounded by friends, as awkward as J asking them if they were dating…and them saying yes….*cue jaw drop*

How now? when I had tried subtly? But being as the guys (X & I) had hit it off at an earlier meeting, I got to pry [If J can, why can’t I…J/K] and asked the question that had such heat in my  brain  I could almost feel its searing effect: When did this happen? Or was I always blind (Yes)? X & I walked them to the corner, dinner was had & we went to a club. This after Jay, happily gay, had come over and had conversation & strangeness with J & K (who X & I have beaten at the awesomeness that is ‘vogueing’, thank you very much) being all over each other. Jay was hard-pressed to understand how our straight selves were going to go to a club that attracts the gay crowd sans him… But go we did.

Post K having a talk with me about ‘taking care of J’ before he left, we went to the club. On our way there it was revealed that one of X’s friends [a member of AIESEC, the organisation that he is-I did not stutter] tended bar there. Before I forget, X became President of his AIESEC chapter (coincidentally, the code for the organisation within the organisation is the letter X) and I almost died-of pride. Seriously…Which some people would say is a good thing 🙂 She was so happy to meet me, his friend, saying that it felt good to finally meet me post-X’s conversations about me. And she was pleasantly surprised to realised he has friends outside AIESEC [remember, earlier, I did not stutter?] and we had an interesting time that included me getting a call from my mum & jokily telling her I was out with X getting drunk (“take care of yourself”) [that was the night before :D]. This didn’t last long as the crowd sought by J & B was elsewhere & so J’s friend K, her boyfriend J & the rest of us left.

X left us at the entrance of the 2nd club [we would later sing ‘Another one bites the dust” when Kate’s J left]  and we went and had unbelievable fun. Which included guys hitting on K after her boyfriend left & not single B. Which was an improvement on the joke that was the last time we had gone out together when, with my relationship with X now declared to J, she had repeatedly fended off the men that tried hitting on me by insisting that I had a boyfriend [though stated as, “Yeye ana bwana”-she has a husband :D]. We left that club because of J’s insistence.

The one we went to had an age limit that the lady at the door imagined up at the sight of us [23 & over-who ever heard of that?] and we ended up at the club we had gone to for B’s 22nd on the night of the 8th/9th. We-J & I- (you have to believe this) fell asleep & in the end J went to her hostel (my & B’s former residence) & I put B up for the night. Thankfully, my roommate hadn’t been in on those 2 days, sparing all the parties involved the awkwardness of a shared bed…

Sunday January 31st: I woke up to lock the door after B left, lay on my bed and showered & ate in time to look calm when X came to watch Woody Allen’s ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’, the first of his films we are (were?-English is confusing…) to watch together. We were originally meant to watch ‘Sherlock Holmes’ at the theatre but a conglomeration of factors meant that we started on our list… The twin & X had an awkward moment when I left him to get VCB & she went to my room to pick her book without my informing her of his presence. But it was OK in the end…with X remarking on the film’s ‘European’ qualities…

This past weekend rocked…the CAT I had today, that I aced, couldn’t cast a shadow on it… The small moments (my uncle-who calls me his ‘niece & friend’-calling me, my friend & I planning a post-birthday lunch in lieu of her presence) the ones that made the day what it was, the time spent with X (so hard to get since I became a First Lady 😉 )….I had a great time…

And about X & I not being physical…I couldn’t have said it better than SSS did… I want something to happen,  I’d like for something to happen…but I have the sense to know that rushing matters won’t make for a great ride and so while I wait [need I say ‘hopefully’?], I shall enjoy all the beauty of my life & the joy of my love 🙂

PS Mo, I wish you’d been around…it would have been like the Ribena ad with the blackcurrant that can no longer contain itself…its goodness just overwhelms it… We miss you…