My True North

I have never been a city girl. Not at heart, at least. I love the country life. I fantasize about living in a big house deep in the village, surrounded by trees, bushes, grass and wild nature – creepy crawlies and all. Eeew, you say? Fine, those I can do without but I will insist on uninterrupted internet connection, electricity sans blackouts, and running tap water (so much for the rural life huh?) Hopefully, Kenya power and Lighting co. get their act together.

I will spend my days tapping at my keyboard, telling stories. Great stories, if I might add. I will look out of the window and seek inspiration from the wilderness, allowing nature to inject life into me. I will get high on the fresh country air which I will inhale deeply through my nostrils into my system (and no, I’m not a druggie) as I watch the rain falling to water the earth or the sun caressing the green vegetation. With a scalding-hot cup of coffee (Or milk, if I’m to stick to my roots), I will try to change the world one word at a time.

Hailey and Heidi will be big names at the time – you better believe it! Grown women of substance. Hailey will be a big shot model (You should see her pose for a photo, I swear!) or actress, or singer. Heidi will run some company, fearlessly admonishing employees and making management decisions. Making men sweat - in a nutshell.

Md will be in the bushes with me (I don’t care what he tell you, this is my fantasy!). As I am busy on my keyboard, he will be lurking somewhere in the bushes trying to catch something, sword - or some other lethal weapon of choice- in hand. Maybe he will resurrect his passion for art and join me at the window with a paintbrush and canvas in hand? My very own Da Vinci? I don’t know...All I know is that he will be shirtless with just a pair of shorts, the Fabio look-alike that he is. I will stop there before things get all steamy and inappropriate. Ha!

When I close my eyes I get lost in this fantasy. It is so tangible, I can taste it. It is so alive; I can feel it burning my bones, willing to burst out.

My true north! This must be it, isn’t it? Is this my internal compass? “Everyone has an internal compass where their true north is clearly defined. Even when they stray, this compass will point them back on track” so I’ve been told. And don’t you agree?

It’s a journey getting to that point where what you want is non negotiable. There are  so many distractions on the way. So many hardships that all combine to build you to the person you want to become.

Every woman, I believe, has to go through the thick scary forest with wild animals raring to gnaw at her delicate frame, ready to take advantage of her fragility. She has to climb mountains so high while struggling to hang on lest she plummets into the ocean below that is eager to drown her. Every woman, at one point or another, has plunged into deep waters; unable to swim she has stretched out her hand helplessly. If lucky, she has clutched on a straw and stayed afloat.

She has had to run away from danger! Towards shelter! Barefoot sometimes! She’s been pricked in the process! She has bled. She has asked for help along the way only to be turned away. Screamed for help in the dark, only to be ignored. Sought for help among people who claim to love her, only to be misled. She has somehow managed to come back nevertheless.

Every woman has slipped! Has fallen!Crawled on all fours! Dragged their bodies on the mud when standing up was too much for her! She has cried! Boy, has she cried! She has laughed! She has smiled! Given a fake smile! A fake orgasm! She has loved! She has hated! Harbored anger! Resentment! She has gone crazy with confusion! She has given in to pleasure! Succumbed to pressure! She has given up! Thrown her hands up in defeat!

Yet she has picked herself up! Stood tall! Pushed her chest out! Made a comeback! She has trudged the long winding road! Step by firm step! Determined to reach where she needs to go! Focusing on that one point that remains constant through it all. Her true north.

Every woman has gone through her fair share of smelting to become that shining, refined woman who knows what she wants. Whose morals, principles and ideals are non negotiable.

In life's journey we are often uncertain where we stand, where we are going and what the right path is for us personally. My true north beckons me to this place where I am comfortable in my skin; with what I have and who I am. It stops me from comparing myself to others and insists ever so determinedly, irritatingly sometimes, that I make my voice heard regardless of what people might think. It fights me when I try to conform. It dares me to be me. Unique. Different. Blessed.

Take a look, see how far you’ve come. Now imagine how much farther you can go! Never lose sight of your true north. Keep going. Keep North!

Modern day Polygamy: Pick a number

First it was Linda Muthama. And now Cecilia Mwangi, former Miss Kenya, follows hot on her heels. Celebrities (I use this term loosely) trying to ‘justify’ their place in society; the place of a second wife. Cecilia admits that Linda’s coming out on her polygamous arrangement emboldened her to do the same.

They are vilified unjustly and they urge the modern society to stop demonizing them since polygamy is a better, far much better arrangement than monogamous families who bear the brunt of infidelity.  So a man won’t be faithful to his wife and what, we create a carnival for all promiscuous men to go on the rampage and legitimize their philandering?

When I read the articles where the two granted interviews to shed light on their lifestyle choice, I asked myself a few questions; Does the first wife have any say in this or do we give them the ‘put up or shut up’ ultimatum? Would the same women encourage their husbands to get a second wife had they been married as first wives? Better yet, if the said 'husband' sought wife number three, would they be ok with it? It’s still good old polygamy isn’t it?

Polygamy feeds two vices; that of a player, and a golddigger. Its hard to believe that such arrangements are borne of love when it happens only among wealthy men.We don't see the average 'sufferer' trying to shoo away scores of women eager to take their (2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th) place in their lives. If he can provide just the basics, why not give the poor man a chance?

Polygamy tells the player that when you settle down, you don’t really have to settle down. One guy even went ahead to tweet, “If Cecilia Mwangi, a whole Miss Kenya, can become a second wife, ladies who are you not to agree to such an arrangement?”  

The argument that being Africans, we should not stray too far from our traditional practices, polygamy included, has been floated. Let’s not however forget that just like FGM, wife inheritance, and wife battery, some cultural practices were not really helping the society in general and women in particular. That’s why they had to be discarded at some point. Polygamy thrived in the days when women were considered as good as property. The more a man had cattle, goats, sheep, land, AND women, the wealthier they were considered. Polygamy was entertained in the days when women had neither voice nor choice. A wife had no say if one evening, her husband came home with a woman he had lusted after for a while and in a sexual gratification whim declared her his second wife. Polygamy meant that a woman could do zilch as long as cows had been taken to her father’s home to seal the deal.

It is commendable when second wives encourage their ‘husbands’ not to neglect the other family. Noble even. But it must be understood that sometimes material provision is not all a woman seeks from her husband, especially in this day and age where women are comfortably capable of taking care of their financial needs. All some women ask for is for their husband to prove that while married to him she will become his be-all and end-all, his credit card and stock market shares notwithstanding.

It’s very hard to believe that a woman would consider marrying a man if she knew that there was a chance he could bring another woman into their life and make her part of their marital home. Second wives are a result of infidelity in marriage, a breach of contract. They are always imposed on the first wife. I find that unfair.

We are trying to discourage the illicit and secretive affairs outside marriage by lauding polygamy, but aren't polygamous marriages a product of 'illicit and secretive affairs?'

Please help me understand polygamy will you? In my understanding, a polygamous man is a selfish man who convinces a woman to marry him. A few years (or months, doesn’t really matter) later,  he gets bored of the whole thing (loving wife included) and he goes out to play. He then brings home his game and tells the missus “Guess what wifey, I like this one too (maybe even better) I promised you that you will always be my number one didn’t I? Well, she is number two. She stays. End of story.”

How to 'Ex-Terminate' a looming affair

So you have done the disappearing act perfectly well and think that a relationship you wanted out of is dead and buried. Eons later, you bump into each other. She is still single, ready to mingle and dying to settle down; desperate for a relationship that will lead to marriage. She tried Pastor Chris Ojigbani’s renowned seminar, she once applied to The Daily’s lonely hearts column, and when that failed, she further went out on a limb with facebook’s ‘divas for something-or-the-other’ only for it all to fall flat on her face. But in an uber lucky twist of fate, just when she was about to give up and purchase a clowder of cats to keep her company in old age…Voila!

Like a gift from the high heavens, here you stand! The only problem is, once she was out of the picture you moved on, played the field and even convinced some nice girl to marry you. Your ring is in full view for her to see but she won’t accept that what you had is kaput. She refuses to acknowledge the fact that you married your gentle, down-to-earth sweetheart. Her? She might ask. Of all the people, you married HER? (Picture her sneering and scanning her from head to toe)

With that look, battle lines will be drawn. Her mission - to get ‘her’ man back come hell or high waters. So she will make sure you bump into each other again. And again. And again. She will casually ask to share drinks (or food) with you one evening - for old times’ sake of course. During which time she will endeavor to awaken memories of your dating years. Reminders will pop up on how the two of you were so in love. How everyone expected you to spend the rest of your lives together. How she cooked mouth-watering Chapatis for you (Is it just twitter or are men seriously obsessed with Chapatis?!)

She will dress to kill; her dress will be cut to accentuate her curves with her cleavage peeping at you mockingly and the hem falling just above her knee, and threatening to go further up. When it comes to looking good, gentlemen, EVERY woman can put up a good show. The fact that we all know what men like makes it easy; The voluptuous behind a la J-Lo, the well endowed rack a la Pamela Anderson, the long legs a la Tina Turner, ergo the hip enhancements, the skin lightening creams (and injections), the weaves, the push-up bras…It is laughable how women manage to ‘manipulate’ men.

Suffice to say, she will bring her A game to the table and she will dare you to resist all that, your marriage be damned!

Let’s face it, most men don't have it in them to fight off an overzealous Ex. Granted, fighting temptations is not one of men’s strong points. However, for the few men who know what a ring on their finger means, you will be glad to know that you can actually lose a clingy woman without enrolling in cat and mouse games, or pulling a Harry Houdini. You can thank me later.

1. Talk fondly about your wife (Your kids too if any) She cooks for you, she rocks your world, she is a great mother, etcetera. Even if she burns every meal she cooks and goes to bed in her ‘sengenge ni ng’ombe’ tee. For better or worse, remember?
2. Show off your family's pictures if you carry some in your wallet. And please carry those pictures like you do your ID. Your family is your identity after all, innit?
3. Don’t initiate anything. A hug. A kiss. A meet up. A phone call. ANYTHING. Why do you think a woman gets mad when you call yourself her boyfriend yet you don’t bother to call? It’s because we know that when you don’t call, you are not interested.
4. If you bump into her at your ‘local’, refrain from buying her drinks or any treats whatsoever. If you do so you will inadvertently turn your coincidental meeting into an impromptu date.
5. Suggest hooking her up with some nice guy you know. Then go ahead and do it! Meaning what you say will help to avoid giving her mixed signals.
6. Don’t share your marital problems with her. That is the weak link she is after and as soon as she finds it, She. Will. Milk. It. Dry.
7. Understand your weakness with the female anatomy and keep your distance. If she manages to get you all alone, all confused, all vulnerable and all in her spell, then your goose is cooked.
8. If for some reason you need to call her about something; maybe to pass your heartfelt condolences for the loss of a relative, a cat, dog, job, whatnot (I can’t think of any other valid reasons), then don’t call at night. Calls made at night have a personal tag to it and you don’t want to go personal. This means that Texting, (need I say sexting?), Chatting, are all absolute no-nos!
9. No you can’t be friends! Not if she is still hang up on you, you can’t! You will call it ‘friendship’ for so long until she starts staying up late, staring at the ceiling above her big California King bed, asking herself “What if…”
10. Cut the cord. Sever links with her. A relationship needs care to grow. Neglect it, and it wilts away. You want to let it die.

Try the above and you will irritate the hell out of her. She will be so bored of your marriage-wife-children-commitment-family yada yada that if you are lucky, she might start avoiding you.

Unless of course you don’t really want to lose her entirely. Would you prefer to keep her as a side dish maybe? A scrumptious chips funga for your dry spells? No harm in stringing her along, is there? Her much needed ego-massage comes in handy when the missus gives you grief, ey? Every man sure needs one of those, right? Yeah? Really? SHAME ON YOU for even daring to nod your head! 

Weep not, 'child'

"Suppose you were an idiot and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself." Mark Twain

Politics is a dirty game. I hate dirt. Therefore it follows that I hate politics. But once in a while, I roll in the ‘mad’ just to confuse my enemies. Just like at times I watch Tom & Jerry cartoon or other times I sit through ninety minutes of football not only to see grown men cry (Arse ‘n all), but mostly to confuse my enemies.

I love the circus and comic relief that politicians provide once in a while and so I try to milk it dry. Kenyan politicians are full of theatrics. Some will speak horrible sheng in the spirit of connecting with the youth and post a video on youtube. Then you ask yourself, who is their target audience because most people who have internet access can indeed understand, even speak English! Others punch walls in 'anger' or spill maize flour in full view of fellow hungry Kenyans. We laugh at them only because we don’t want to cry.

Yesterday, as I flipped through the channels to sample the news headlines one story caught my eye. “27 year old joins bid for presidency” – this I had to watch.
“My name is Kingwa Kamencu, a 27year old Kenyan studying at Oxford University….” That’s all I got from the response she gave when one journalist asked who Kingwa Kamencu was. She talked fast like in a bid to prove something-maybe the fact that she could speak without thinking twice. I hoped that she would talk slow, sift through her words. Pause once in a while. I was disappointed.

Ok. Then she is asked what party she would be affiliated with. “I am not affiliated to any party. I am running as an independent individual” THAT’S IT, I didn’t finish reading the constitution when it was still in draft but correct me if I am wrong; shouldn’t someone who vies for presidency be affiliated to a political party?

In desperation (yes, I could sense some desperation) she was asked what she had done so far to champion development in Kenya “I have always blablablabla…” (who is chasing this girl, why is she talking so hurriedly) Then I caught this “We were involved in a clean up exercise in Eastleigh in....was it...20..03?” I look around. Who is she asking? She can’t remember? A CLEAN UP exercise? What am I doing? I should be running for presidency too!

The channel I was watching never showed her shed tears but had I seen that, I would have joined her in crying. WHAT WAS THAT?!

This morning Capital Fm hosted her in the morning show and Chris asked where they would get funding for campaigns. She digressed totally not answering the question. Janice raised the same question and Kamencu went round and round on how money was not important…then she finally settled on “We have enough money to see us through at the moment” Pocket money? Savings? WHAT? It has to come from somewhere, innit?

Coincidentally, I had watched Martha Karua being interviewed barely two days ago by Debarl on NTV’s morning show. I caught the show while it was just winding up and it appeared that they had over run it and were therefore cutting short the calls that were coming in. But when the host tried to hurriedly wind up Martha goes, “Wait. You haven’t’ asked me about my presidential bid. I was waiting for you to ask me about that” Debarl mumbled about lack of time etc etc. Martha goes ahead to make her plea “I would just like to briefly tell Kenyans that ....” And she goes ahead to say why she should be voted in as the next president! Debarl could not stop her and she took up a few more minutes of his time to plead her case.

In those few stolen minutes, she actually pleaded for votes. In fact she almost groveled which made me feel so powerful. I never got to listen to the whole plea but she took a tone that I had never associated with her before. A tone that seemed to say “Renee, I need you so much. I need your vote. Please let me help you make this country what it has never been. I can do it. Others have stolen from you and used and abused you without caring how you will make it through this tough life. But I can do all that and more. If you let me, I will make things OK again. I am capable of turning things around. Please?”

If I had to pick the appropriate tone used by Kingwa Kamencu, this would fit her bill “Hi (scratches her head for a name), I think I can be your next president. I really don’t know how we will hack it but WhatsHisName insists that I can do it; after all I am in Oxford University. At 27years old I am mature enough and willing to push my way to the top. In fact, I…eeh...WE once did a clean up exercise in Eastleigh, was it? That was in….in…2003 was it? Yeah. That’s how much we care about our country. We need change from bad leadership. Where we get funding for our campaigns is not important.”

I did not know a thing about Kamencu until yesterday, so I consulted my BFF google for more about this very gutsy individual. From what I found, I respected her more for what she has been doing as opposed to what she wants to do. I respect the fact that she has written a book “To grasp at a star” – I hope to read it soon too. I am impressed that it won the youth category of the Jomo Kenyatta Prize for Literature, Kenya’s most prestigious literary prize. Being an only girl in a family of boys, I believe Kamencu has had to prove herself quite a lot and that could possibly be the reason behind her resilience. You have to commend her for that.

But she cried. Why? Weep not Kamencu. Because when you do that, you try to grasp at a straw and therefore, you don’t do yourself or your book, any justice. Don’t do that because it automatically makes you a side show and not a serious contender (unless that is what you really are). Don’t weep because when you do, you insult our intelligence. Don’t weep because your tears will not fetch you the votes you need. They instead make you fit perfectly into the stereotype of a young woman – weak, emotional and inexperienced.

She shall be called Woman

A female human being, an adult female person. Aristotle called her an incomplete or mutilated man – “The female is as it were, a defective male”, he wrote. Idiot!

Aside from these scholarly definitions, what does it really mean to be a woman?

It means that you are damned if you do, damned if you don’t. That you will always need vindication if what you stand for is not co-signed by a man. It means that you will be jeered when you try something new. What? You think you have the ‘balls’ for it? In order to be heard, you will have to speak louder, maybe even shout. You will have to hold in your tears when you feel overwhelmed, crybaby!

It means that for you, dumb is good. ‘Dumb’ women are nice. They are sweet and appreciative - grateful for being granted the honor to share in this ‘man’s world’. The so called ‘smart’ women are full of it! Full of what? I don’t know, maybe they mean ‘it’ preceded with ‘s’ and ‘h’? These smart ones are arrogant, bitter, loud, demanding, unreasonable and unlikeable. In fact, they are stupid. Isn’t Ignorance bliss? “The educated differ from the uneducated as much as the living from the dead”, said Aristotle. Smartass!

As a woman, you will be misunderstood, appreciated, loved, despised, admired, abused, cherished, chastised, adorned, tainted, glorified and embarrassed in equal measures. One man will exalt his mother while abusing his wife. Another man will support his wife’s career in the corporate world and frown at the female politician who wants the top seat. You will be expected to work and help bring home the bacon, while at the same time you will have to be the stereotypical ‘bare foot and pregnant’ woman when called upon to tend to the home.

You are allowed to scale the ladder but not to go all the way to the top-you simply don’t belong there; huko kuna wenyewe. If you dare sing to the tunes of Destiny’s Child’s ‘Independent woman’, you warrant the middle name ‘Bitch’ for daring to forget who runs the world.

The other day, a male colleague sought my assistance in gluing together a torn 500 shilling note. On this slow Monday morning I am feeling uninspired. The excuse that it is a Monday would normally suffice but not today-the weather has mood swings. It’s a gloomy cold Monday. Insult to injury - I am suffering a headache and a sore throat; call it a hang over if you will. I don’t know if it’s the drinking or the chattering the previous evening that earned me these ailments but it’s not a great day by any standards. I tried coffee but wapi?

I am seated at my desk trying to work. I start looking at some photos I had saved in one of my folders where I come across a full length photo taken with Hailey. I analyze it; Hailey’s pose is so ‘America’s-Next-Top-Model’-ish. She has her right arm folded to her side, the wind is blowing at her ‘Cinderella-inspired’ dress and she is wearing this smile, coy and sweet. Even at her tender age you can already tell she is a ‘woman’ in the making. I know every mother thinks that their kids are the most beautiful on the planet. Shamelessly, I am no exception. Aristotle has an explanation for everything; He says “Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own”. Tsk, the nerve of that guy!

My analysis of the photo is interrupted by my colleague, who has a roll of cello tape in his hand, he mumbles some greetings even though we’d been through that when we met in the morning. Seeing that he has my attention, he goes on to produce a 500 shilling note from his pocket. “Si you glue this money for me?” It is torn in half.

I ask why he wouldn’t do it himself. If I was to do it, he had to ask really nicely. After all, What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do - yeah, Aristotle once again. He (my colleague, not the smartass) had tried piecing the torn note together but was unable to do it right, he pleaded. Since I had a headache and couldn’t get into a testimony on stereotypes - as badly as I wanted to- I agreed to help the poor ‘dude’ in distress. “Give it back when you’re through, will you?” he says, tongue in cheek. “Very funny!” I retort.

I placed the 500 shilling note on the table, brought the two pieces together and with the utmost precision of a surgeon, passed the cello tape over it to make a classic merge of the two pieces. Former President Moi’s (or is it Jomo’s) picture was perfect, not even the contour of his shoulders was crooked. Had I been doing this job in my previous life? No. I am a woman. But do I say?

I know I make it sound like I just performed brain surgery but you must understand that as a woman you sew, you clean, you cook, you love, you nurture, and you hurt and rejoice with your heart. You piece together torn notes, torn relationships, torn children and even torn men to make them whole again. You find an inner strength inside of you that you never knew you had until you needed it. You hold together those minute details that to the outside world seem so negligible but are in essence the integral part of the whole. It’s what we do.

Woman - Does this one word do justice to who she is and the role she plays? Maybe. Maybe not. Because to some, she is shit while to others she is THE shit. We should however never forget that regardless of how others see us, Happiness depends upon ourselves. Aristotle said that too. What a genius huh?

Cheers to all you wonderful women out there! I would drink to that but I promised myself not to touch alcohol for a while. Nevertheless, be proud of who you are woman!