Men in Blue Suits

Black sandals, blue jeans, black belt, and a red or white polo shirt. Or in another occasion, official crisp-free shirt, blue jeans, black belt, and a black or brown leather boots. Or a red T-shirt, black or blue jeans, black belt, and clean canvas shoes with a white stripe at the bottom. Picture all these scenarios with a beautiful watch and an enticing cologne, and you got yourself a date without trying any harder.

Standing at the entrance of the new Naivas Supermarket that used to be Barclays Bank along Kenyatta Avenue on a chilly Friday evening, I could not help but admire the different people minding their business (es). Women dressed in official clothes flaunting their perfect makeup and heels on a cool Friday evening. Men dressed in one-piece suits and crisp clean shirts meeting up with them and laughing so loudly. Girls dressed in jeans and crop tops in the middle of ‘spring’ showing off their flat tummies that I could only admire. Old men walking with large bags, looking like they are moving away with all their troubles. A woman stands beside me directing a man to where she is, dressed in skinny blue jeans and a body-hugging white top. In the midst of all the chaos and admiration, I could not help but think of how times have changed.

A while back a man in a blue suit would have swept me off my feet (at least he did for the first 3 years of my dating life), but now they scare me more than I care to admit. Men dressed up like Barney Stinson will always be attractive to me. I prefer having a metrosexual man to a Macho man and my preferences are rather obvious. Who wouldn’t mind having a man who knows how to dress classy, simply and maturely? Who wouldn’t want a man who knows what cologne to use? Who wouldn’t want a man who keeps his nails short and clean? And who wouldn’t want a man who knows personal hygiene? But, looking beneath the layers of class, and appearance, most men in blue suits are struggling financially.

Life in Nairobi is hard.

I am a bibliophile, and I am proud of it. I have been reading financial books for the longest times and testing out theories through observation and personal confessions, and sadly, men in suits struggle a little harder than they would let in. They will have trouble making ends meet and keeping up with their exquisite social lives. They will party all night in clubs around CBD, Westlands, Lang’ata and Baricho road. With NTSA all over, they will rather go home and rave joints like Pipers around Equity, Kasarani. On Saturday morning, they will be like, ‘Yoh man, punguza volume msee! ‘Richie, sssshhh. Richie: nyi wasee tuongeze mzinga. And the cycle continues. I have nothing against this lifestyle, it’s just that I want more from my man.

Interestingly, if you want to build an empire with a man around you, you have to be visionary. A few years ago I was sure that I would walk into my empire, managed by a man in a blue suit, and continue building it together. But there is more beyond the suit, men who build empires will most likely be dressed in a pair of sandals, blue jeans, and a red t-shirt driving an economy car sitting in traffic. Or better yet, men who will help you to continue building your empire, will be the latter case of men.  

Have a cheerful afternoon! 

Dear Government of Kenya

Dear Government of Kenya (Uhuru and Ruto),

My heart is bleeding and everyday a little hope in me dies. Not because I am suffering from any chronic disease or I am in trouble, but only because my country is dying. 

President Uhuru Kenyatta, I am curious of what motivated you to become the next president of Kenya. Was it because you are the son of the first President? Or is it because of some external factors? Or were you ‘inspired’ to lead because you were blinded by your lineage? Kindly do tell me. I am [confidently] sure you didn’t want to lead because you had Kenya in your heart and mind. Ever since you came into power, everything has gone south. The cost of living has doubled. Inflation is at its highest this year at 11.48%. The cost of electricity is higher at sh 18 per unit. Worst of all, the levels of corruption has exceeded human comprehension. As a ‘leader’, you feel nothing about the sufferings of the common man. Waking up each morning trying to live just above the dollar. You don’t understand that there are Kenyans who cannot afford a packet of milk because it has become a luxury. You don’t understand that there are Kenyans who cannot afford a packet of sugar because it is a luxury. I have to buy a 2kg packet at sh 400 yet if I only increased sh 100 more I could have afforded 4kgs in the recent past. You don’t understand that maize flour, our staple food, is becoming a luxury. I see you have tried to amend the latter problem but it has been nothing but lies. There are so many cartels in our nation that we have to suffer. The government of Kenya is ‘protecting’ them. I don’t understand how every year we allocate money in the national budget for instances such as these. ‘Food security’ or what do you usually call it? Then we suffer from shortages. Yes, I understand that the weather and climate are a major contributor, but that money allocated, if used properly, could have made a difference. Think of the days that we had the blessings of rain; couldn’t we catch that water for future use? Think of the floods that wreak havoc people’s homes, that’s water my friend. Yet, we still suffer. There are countries who survive on irrigation and sustain themselves, can’t we borrow a leaf and survive as well. Why do we have to suffer and die of hunger yet we have adequate resources to sustain us? You (GoK) end up ‘importing’ some yellow maize that has left use looking like clowns in the International market. Claiming that the maize comes from Mexico then immediately the government of Mexico refusing such claims. Then you try to lie to us that it came from South Africa. C’mon, you can try a better lie! 

Honourable William Ruto, I don’t know if I praise you or I just cry when I write your name. Together with the President you have brought many sufferings to Kenyans, I included. Your integrity is questionable. First, is the Weston Hotel build on a legal land that is truthfully yours? Secondly, the transgressions that you have been accused of committing, did you do them? Third, what is your main agenda with our nation? Lastly, what’s your end game? You become president and then what next. Is your ambition out of malice, greed or just pure intention of becoming a better leader? Please tell me.

Both of you ‘leaders’ have brought this country to a standstill. As much as you have specific roles to play, you have failed to steer this country to become better. Corruption after corruption has been your thing. The billions stolen from the Health Department is making me mad every time I think about it. it was the responsibility of the minister, who you appointed, to be the overseer of the ministry; yet he failed to do that but what did you do? Nothing. You talked and went quiet! Their actions have led to donor withdrawal from USAID and the people who really need the help are suffering. Why should I pay taxes and I sponsor someone’s family to a vacation? Don’t you think that the worst insult you can do to someone? Why, whhhy, can’t you look for ways of recovering the money? The major people involved, couldn’t you have frozen their accounts? If found guilty, couldn’t you have recovered the last dime of the money with their assets. They are sitting comfortably enjoying my money and yet I am suffering. To the NYS Scam, what the hell was that? The same person who was responsible for the misfortunes in the institution went and vied for a leadership position. She had a certificate of Good conduct. Really???? What is wrong with the GOVERNMENT OF KENYA?? We all saw what happened, even if she was not indicted of the crime, she was an accessory to the whole thing. She failed to control a vital sector of the government institution. 

Tears are now flowing down my cheeks. For now, I am pleading you, rather begging, that you vacate your seats and leave the country to those who truly have her best intention at heart. I would wish for President Kibaki to come back to power, but that’s only wishful thinking. I cannot imagine another five years of suffering and agony in the name of you too (Uhuru and Ruto). Let us all accept that you have failed. Your manifesto has failed. Your regime is nothing but a shame to the country. I no longer want to be in the International news that Kenya is becoming worse by the day. I no longer want to be part of a charade created through your portal that makes Kenya look like a developed nation. I just want someone that will help the economy grow. Someone that will control inflation. Someone who will plan for instances such as food shortages. Someone who will give me hope for a better Kenya. Someone who will make me to be once again proud to a Kenyan. Someone that will make me thankful that my children will be born and brought up in this country. But for now, that person is not you two. That person is someone else (and I don’t know who that person is). But I know, he (she) is somewhere and I hope he (she) will stumble upon this and be inspired to make Kenya a global landmark of success.

Yours truly,

A sad and troubled Kenyan.

`TIS BETTER TO HAVE LOVED AND LOST, THAN NEVER TO HAVE LOVED AT ALL

‘Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’. You know the feeling that you have when you meet someone you share the same joke with even when no one around you gets it? Yes, that feeling. I have recently met a person whom we share the same love for Mind Your Language. The 1980s comedy plays in the background as we laugh to the mindless jokes of Juan and Maximiliano. Daniella makes the class interesting with her adamant crush on Mr Brown. Anyways, we laugh at the episodes and all but one phrase makes its way to my cognitive memory. ‘Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’. The famous quote of Alfred Lord Tennyson, ‘tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’.

Every human being of age has undergone through a heartbreak at a particular time of his or her lives. The heartaches and sleepless nights makes you wish you were with that person. The constant pain in your heart and what ifs that repeatedly play in your mind.

“I broke up with my girlfriend whom I have been dating for 3 years. She had been a constant in my life, my partner and lover and I felt her absence when we split. I went out with my friends, had sixty days of crying my heart out with whiskey bottles. I vented, lamented and I was a constant source of ridicule from the boys. Two months later, I picked myself up, wiped my tears and continued with my hustles. I was done with the pain. Fast forward, it has been 5 months after the break up and she has come back to my life. She constantly texts and calls. She tells me of how much she misses me and wants us to be back together. She cries sometimes, reminding me of the past memories when we were happy. I am sure I don’t want her back into my life cause I picked up the pieces of my shattered heart and moved on’. This was a narration from one of my boys and I could not help but feel sorry for her. In my past life, I have been there and done that. 

Once upon a time, I was going out with someone I loved with all my heart. It was one of the most pure form of love, an innocent love. I had never loved anyone before, since I always shielded my heart. The soap operas I used to watch when I was in primary school scared the hell out of me. The heartbreaks in the programs were intense. Besides, ‘shielding’ my heart, this man swept me off my feet. He would take me out on dates; introduce me to fine dining and wining. He actually made me become conversant with good, expensive wines (that I can tell apart confidently). He would open car doors for me and drop me off at home. He was different. He made me feel special and like the only girl in the world, literally. Then I fell in love, deep in love. However, that love was short lived. I remember when he broke up with me saying that ‘I was too young to understand love’, and more genuinely, ‘I had to go to college’.  I was devastated after the break up, and I lost over five kgs from crying and lack of eating. 

Then came the denial part. I would call and text endlessly, begging him to take me back. That I would change and become the person ‘he wanted’ of me. I defended myself that I knew what love was and how it felt, blah blah blah. I messaged him everywhere, Facebook, text messages, email and worst of all, work mail. Then he BLOCKED me everywhere! I got agitated and sad and found other avenues to find my healing. Any chance my call would go through, I would say I needed closure so badly. Every time he would put me off, and tell me he doesn't want me back. He had already made up his mind to move on and i was only clinging to a lost hope that was non-existent. I was a wreck, at my worst point in life. When I recall the events after that break up I feel like an idiot and embarrassed of my actions. That was rock bottom for me. 

Therefore, when Mark’s (my friend) ex-girlfriend keeps on calling and finding ways of being with him, including proposing business ventures, I feel for her. I know how it feels to want that person back into your life desperately, to make things get back to normal. The frustration that exists because you can no longer call them and tell them about your ordinary day. The absence of someone to hug and tell you that you are going to be all right, just because you accidently hit your pinkie toe. The loneliness that creeps in and failing to have that person to send emoji’s on Whatsapp with when there is nothing much to talk about. That feeling of being alone, hurting and in constant heartache is the worst. And to top it up, being constantly told that IT IS OVER!

Her actions after the breakup is much more mature than how mine was. Including him in a business venture where money is flowing is a mature and strategic thing to do (I hope he doesn’t gets swarmed back into her life cause that's a fine strategy). Overall, heartbreaks are brutal. It has been many years since then but I can still recall it like yesterday. I wished for a long time that our paths would cross and I would be his again, but now am glad it never did. That episode in my life taught me that time heals everything and every bad experience, is a stepping-stone to becoming stronger. It made me handle future relationships better. It opened my mind to being liberal and accepting people as they are, accepting their opinions and choosing not to judge. It made me understand the feelings and emotions that come from people when they are angry, upset, in love or in denial. Now I can love again, and I can love with no fear. That heartache taught me to cherish the memories we make with everyone that crosses our paths. Instead of pouting over what is gone, healing and moving on is a sign of growth. In addition, what is the essence of life anyway? Is it not to live each day like the one it is the last one? I would prefer a million times over, to better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. 

HAPPY Easter Amigos!

METAPHORICAL SHOES OF A BIBLIOPHILE

For many years, I have always gotten that weird look from the people around me. They stare at me if I have an eye on top of my nose. I do not have any physical deformities, mind you. I am in a perfect shape and my physical appearance doesn’t make me stand out more than the next guy. However, what makes my loved ones and strangers to stare at me, all lies on what I do. A habit, a behaviour, a curse? Sometimes I feel like it is an addiction.  A drug like cocaine that needs constant refill. In my life, there is no single day that passes without delving into my desires/cravings.

My cousin never understands why I can spend hours, seated in one ‘state’, staring at words. She never understands why I would prefer to read a story instead of watching the movie. All right, I have said it. Books are my addiction! Sorry, any written document attracts me as light attracts a moth. When I walk on the streets, I sub-consciously read any word before me. ‘Househelp wanted’ ‘Doctor from Tanzania treats all ailments’ ‘Do you believe the butcher when he tells you the meat is soft’. In my mind, every word must register itself. My eyes can avoid looking at the person in front of me but will see the words spewed all over the billboards. Sometimes I usually feel like am a weird one. That I just come from another planet altogether.

 
My love for books originated from when I was small, in my kindergarten days. I would thrill at the prospect of opening a Ladybird book series. Rapunzel, Pinocchio, Three Little Pigs, just to name a few would keep me hidden from my mother or my cousins for hours. People used to think I was lazy, that I was running away from chores while literally, I was stuck in the moment.  Back then, Kenya National Library allowed individuals to borrow up to two books for two weeks. Therefore, when I was in class three I had my library card with me. It was my treasure, it was my diamond. I would borrow two books every fortnight, one textbook and one novel. However, if it weren’t for my mum, two story books would have carried the days. I remember I first read my big novel titled ‘The Hole’ (which I saw became a movie later on) when I was in class Five. My English teacher would be busy applying polish to her nails on her desk, while I was stealing moments in class reading my storybook.  

When I was in class Six, I read my first Grisham. I had seen my mum reading it and it got me curious when it was lying there after she had finished.  The Partner became my obsession after school. Despite the heavy legal terms, I managed it. However, I soon forgot 60 percent of the terms I didn’t search on my dictionary. The habit evidently progressed through high school where I would be among the first few individuals who would read ‘new’ books in school. We had our own club, Nesh, Mercy, Jackie and I would literally read all the new books in school. That is, if anyone came with a novel on opening and half-term dates, we were the ones to read first. I don’t know why, but we always got hold of most of the books In the whole school. It’s funny how we would wake up at 5 a.m and read a novel the whole day. Only during math class that you were obliged to put it aside. How? Simple. I would put my novel inside my exercise book and read it through the lessons. Being a backbencher helped a lot. One time my business teacher caught me, and all I did was to put it away as if nothing happened.

Literally, after high school my love for books had grown to another dimension. It was my life; it was how I knew how to live. Therefore, when years later on, I walked into a bookshop and bought a book for like Ksh 1300, it was not a big deal for me. I was thrilled when I smelled the book and I knew it was mine. However, my friend stared at me in the most horrific manner (I can still recall that look 2 years later). The look was why spend that much on a book that you gonna put away after reading it? I don’t know why. It happens!

Also, I have those impulsive moments when it comes to books. Every time I go to town, I will buy a book from Inama bookshops. Thanks Inama people! I have so many books that I cannot finish reading in over 4 months, but I will still buy. I got thrilled when I found a group where the love for books is mutual. Where books are in plenty, that it will literally take years to finish the online collections. So, am I crazy? Some will say yes. To some, we share the same sentiments. So, what am I trying to tell you?  

Always develop a reading culture, with your spouse, friends, children and yourself. Books have life; they take you to a different dimension. They improve your perspective of life. They increase your imagination. They help develop your skills, without my books I would not even know how to write.  Some people claim not to be a reading person, but reading is a culture. You have to nurture it. It starts with an article of 400 words to a book of 800 pages. It takes years to cultivate but will always keep your mind young.

Guys, please don’t look at me weirdly next time I get excited about buying 5 books with all the money I have. Buying those books gives me a thrill that a lover cannot give me. It also takes me to a different dimension, where the author and I are one. We understand the same language. We communicate the same language. He/she understands me more than the world around me does. So, when I see my nephew Kigen indulging in a book, I am jumping into a thousand sparks. Because I know, it will always make him a better person.

And thanks to Denzel, Patel and my book clubs, I know we are all communicating the same language. The love for books!