WESTERN UNION

We all have a relative or relatives overseas you know, "majuu" as we like to call it. If you don't, then you know someone who won't shut up because of the relative abroad as if they have done anything significant in their lives other than the occasional phone call! Well, that said it would be safe to mention that I have relatives spread out across the globe. Not that I am bragging or anything, it’s just the fact. I keep in touch with some, others not so much.

The beauty of having people majuu, is that they give that occasional phone call, they come visiting with lots of gifts (mostly hand me downs) and if yours are as good as mine, they will leave you their unlocked gadgets which cost a fortune here. So hand me down or not, if it's tech I'll have it any time of the year!! You get to go out with your relatives, and they don't spare any money for a good time. But the best is not the spending, but when they promise some foreign currency and you keep ticking calendar dates waiting for them dollars!!

Yes, I tick the calendar on my promises and this was no exception. I can count the fantasies I had about my dollars. What I would do with my dollars, was way beyond what Sport Pesa and Kwachua Mamilioni promotions could do! Needless to say, the amount in question couldn't probably get beyond five digits (the first digit inclusive), but my imagination is my own. You can do with yours whatever you wish. Mine would certainly make me anything I wanted to be. 

I had been following the money markets. The dollar had been holding steady at KES. 93. It started with following the Forex rates. Just the dollar at first. But I have a small collection of East African currencies in safe keeping, The Rand, Euro, and one that I have no idea belongs to what country but it is peach in color and has a man drawn on it, and language symbols that look like hieroglyphics!! I know you don't know it, but it’s okay. I don't either. 

The dollar rose to KES. 95. I thought the money couldn't be sent at a better time. By this time, I had started taking online Forex classes, and even knew a few terminologies. Candles, for instance. I would have sworn that candles could only mean the wax molding we light in case of a blackout. Turns out they are indicators in a Forex trade chart. So my ignorance was fading, which is a good thing. I subscribed to Forex platforms such as the MT4 and Gwazy by Windsor, which was great because I got called every Thursday afternoon by my accounts person who made follow up on my progress.

At KES. 97, I wanted to just call up my relative and ask that the money be sent before the shilling gained. My eyelid was twitching, signs that something exciting was going to happen. I prayed that it was my dollars. The dollar was still gaining, I was getting more excited by the day. KES. 101, and I wanted to go to the money changers. I knew not to go to the bank, they wouldn't offer me a good deal. By this time, my eyelid was twitching so hard, I thought I had some sort of deficiency. But that would be cured by my sweet dollars!!

KES. 105. My palm was itchy. I was scratching. It was so sweet, I was smelling the dollars at Money Gram, and Dahabshiil. I had the Gwazy app on my phone. My demo account was doing well. They were virtual dollars, but I felt like they were real!! Then one day, after a morning nap, the message came in. It was Western Union!!!

Mum, i told U a gud wife comes frm God, Am stil in Sudan en kids in Germany, hv sent $200,000, thro Western Union: Q.India: A.Qatar: mtcn No.5031084641: Mi Mike,plz cal

Only one problem though. I don't know anyone in Sudan, and the one who had made me the promise was not my suitor, but a cousin!! So much for paying attention to superstitions! Kenyan cons, NKT!!

INTERVIEW LESSONS

Life shapes us in ways we don't expect. I have just put down my computer, and planned to rest. Wrapping it up and calling it a day AT 2.20 am. Needless to say, it is well past midnight but my mind won't let me sleep. I was meant to be working- being a freelancer and all, but I stayed up watching a series that compounds medical jargon and old times pomposity. I fancy old English, I should have been born in England! (No hard feelings dad).

I am awake at this odd hour, primarily because I was up supposedly working. It's also because when I retired to bed, my mind wouldn't stop working. Well, that and this mosquito that keeps playing "shumekia" as i like to call it. It's like peek-a-boo; now you see me, now you don't. I don't sleep with small, or big, irritating sounds in the background. So let me give this gamer some head-start with this article before ending the game amicably.

Having graduated a few months ago has tasked me with sending out CVs and cover letters. Even freelancing requires that, and I am always Googling a new technique of addressing the upcoming situation which happens to be an interview. Not that I have one, but I have a feeling if it's not in an office with some recruiters or a HR team, then it's going to be on Skype soon. Either way it is going to be a milestone that I am ready to face.

I told you about this time that I worked somewhere and got there early enough to work my ass off and leave early too. Well before I got that job, there was an interview. I got to the there late, didn't have an identity card, and had to smooth my way through security. That done, I had to act professional since everyone else at the interview was older, was currently in university, and the ladies had make up on. Call it intimidating, but I blended in. So one by one we got called in and naïve princess was summoned to the round table.

My heart was throbbing, but I was not going to let my poker face down. I can be quite an angel, so I played that trait like a fiddle. I smiled, I trust it wasn't too hard like I had just gotten a botox. It went well, and I proceeded to the next stage of the interview which was to prove our computer skills. Turns out one of the ladies did not know how to operate a computer, and had so stated before the interviewing panel then went ahead and proved it! Yes, close to three hours staring at a computer while it took the rest of us close to twenty minutes tops to complete the task at hand.  At this juncture it would be safe to state that the job was mainly data entry. 

Anyways, I aced my first interview and got my first job. Unlike the other well dressed intimidating lady, who I was so certain would get the job. Looks can be deceiving, and the old folk  knew this well; never judge a book by its cover. Although when the rest of us successful candidates got to know each other I had to tell a little lie to fit in. The fact that I had the lowest bid value for expected salary but told the rest of the crew that I stipulated a value higher than what we were earning. Truth be told, the value I gave couldn't even cater for my transport alone!!

Which leads me to two very important lessons. One, believe in yourself no matter what the odds look like. Just package yourself in a decent manner and sell that. Which brings us to lesson number two, know your value. You can't settle for less, or be greedy and covet the director's salary when you are just a newbie. I could have learnt this on Google then, but I learnt it anyways and it feels good to see my lessons all over the Internet. Sadly though, someone will despise it, and it will cost them a job they so much needed.

That said, I was not sure what my post for this month would be. My posts are emotional, and certain triggers lie around waiting for me to trip over them. Like maybe for tonight this loud, tiny mosquito that I will squash in a while.

Satisfaction; that smile on my face when I finally lay my head to rest tonight.

THIS IS EMBARRASSING!

Most of you have one, or two, or three......... God knows! That time when u are getting to know someone and they ask,  What is your most embarrassing moment?" Your face gets red, and your hands all clammy cold in sweat, and everyone is looking at you, and the world won't open up and swallow you whole!! (stop wishing, not gonna happen honey!) And just like that, it's happening all over again.......... Please note these reactions.

Usually, I don't get embarrassed by things that I do. Yeah, I'm perfect like that, don't hate me!! It's what other people do that really work a number on me. Like when a whole inspector general mispronounces "siege" on national television, or when i am watching tv with my dad and that disturbing durex ad comes on, or when......... The list is endless!

See, I am perfect. The repetition here is for emphasis. I am a perfect human being, with a couple of "Oops!" moments. Yes, me too. Princess Diana had one very particular, very memorable moment. One I am not in a hurry to forget.

The year, not relevant. But I was eighteen. Young, vibrant, and believe it or not, very angelic (as I still am, *hides). I was working in a very corporate setting, and being the youngest person in the whole block it was not easy to not be THE girl. So THE girl, was early to work (and early to leave), met targets, turned down invites to lunch, and rides home......... THE perfect girl!!

She had a secret crush, which was not secret because everyone knew and I ignored. So we work, and that moment when he's staring, and I can feel it, and I will not look up because I like it (I did not just say that!), and then I do, and smile as I look away like I didn't know he was smitten! Such a tease!!

Then that early time to leave work, and I powder my nose in the little girls' room. Everything is perfect!! So I grab my bag and walk, no strut, right past crush. I have his attention. Good. He comes up to me. He is smiling. Exchange of pleasantries. He wants to say something. I blush. Classic map drawing, except we are walking. I look up, he looks away! Darn! Say it already!

So he holds my hand, my crush. Gently, nudging me to stop. I stop. I look at him, so sweet! This is that auwwwwwww! moment. So I look into his eyes, he isn't. He looks away. Then back at me, "Dee, your blouse."

I'm sorry, what? "Your blouse", he is looking at me now. Pointing at his chest, no shirt, left side. Then pointing at me. My bossom. Left side. Then the reactions.....

My face, red. My hands all clammy cold in sweat. My heart, racing. My head, hung between them blades. Everyone is looking, at us, at me, at my bossom. The world didn't open up and swallow me whole!! Noooooo, I bore my shame. With grace, might I add. I smile, adjust my blouse. Then in a barely audible voice, "Thanks Mike".

What's your most embarrassing moment?

ASSMATIC

While this is certainly not the best to note to start the year, I am not conventional. Neither am I traditional. I am a free spirit, an eagle flying, soaring to greater heights without wings (like that is possible) !!

Anyways, today i am recovering from pent up anger. Yes, i have a reservoir of anger against people who are indecent and violate others sexually! I am a victim, and this is my story.


The man standing in line right behind me is groping my ass!! Like seriously!! My precious derriere has been violated!

At first I thought it's those old mamas holding tightly to their big bags like life depended on it. I have drawn to this conclusion because I can constantly feel some hard thing accross my behind. So everytime the line moves the hard thing moves along with me! I hate queues, especially when the one right behind you is rubbing against you and probing you to move at the slightest sign of a space as if that is going to get them ahead any faster!

The hard thing accross my ass is moving with me still and I am frustrated now. So I stand accross in line only to find that the old mama carrying a bag is a man with his hands in his pockets. Emphasis on the fact that his both his hands are in his trousers pockets.

I am not one to make quick assumptions, so I think "Maybe I am wrong." I stand back in line and he shamelessly moves right behind me. Soooooooooo close I can feel both his hands moving accross my behind!! So I turn back to lash out at him but a little too late, the slithery man scampers away and dissappears in the crowd!

Haiyya! He's lucky, next time I will have my weapons in check. My good friend Gibson Sang calls it a disease, 'ass'matic. Well, disease or not this is totally unacceptable! At the slightest form of sexual violation I will rearrange someone's physiognomy! I kid you not!

Before I get back to being angry, a happy new year 2015! No not yet late, I believe. So receive the best of my wishes this year! I pray no one gropes your ass as you wait in line to get your ride home!

I AM NOT GOING BALD!!

Having just recently cleared campus has left me with a lot of time to do a lot of nothing really. There’s no HELB to go out and have some fun, talk of which I have just received a text that I should start paying up! Can’t they at least wait till I graduate and get a job??? Am I the only one, because I can get some couple of million signatures and sue for harassment (if only!) The problem isn’t just the student loan, but a lot of other girl issues. No actually, just one major pain; my hair.

When I was younger hair was not a big deal. My mom would wash my hair and she had this equipment that would work wonders on my small head. She only had to plug it to the electricity, and voila! Straight pretty hair held up in place with ribbons perfectly and yes, it was pussy-cat. Or she would curl it and it looked like I had a perm and I would brag all Sunday before evening fell and I would have to endure as she plaited it neatly in lines made from joined “matutas”. If you were born as early as I was you are aware of the term “kamatana”.

Someone was however getting jealous. You see, I am a typical daddy’s girl. So when my dad noticed that most weekends was about my hair, he had had enough! I started out public speaking when I was young, and I loved those kids programs where one would recite a poem or debate or talk about something or……….. you get the flow. My dad noticed one girl, very articulate and all I would envision becoming. He asked me, “Do you see that girl? Very bright, I bet you would like to be just like her. No?” I nod, yes. I can even beat her. See, I am that good. “I notice one thing that sets her apart. See her head? No stress from long hair. That will definitely keep you from being better.”

Argument sold. The next weekend, after having grilled meat and ugali at a local place in Kenyatta Market we headed to the barbers. Under a large tree. The machine at the time was not electric. I told the barber that he should at least leave some hair, I did not want to look like the guys. He agreed. And thus I lost my crown and glory. Not a single sign that I once had hair. Clean shaven? Even worse! Michael Jordan or our very own Nonini. I ran all the way home for fear of being seen. My mother told me if I left the house, I would grow orange or red hair and I believed her. I stayed indoors for three weeks. Such a waste for the holidays!

I have been thinking of going bald again. Then I wouldn’t have such a worry seeing as there is no money. Then as it grew, I would look like Lupita or Alek Wek…………. I can highlight and now let it grow orange or red as my dear mother had forewarned when I was younger. Yes, my small head would look wonderful don’t you think? My boyfriend thinks not, and he has a way of opening my eyes and bringing me back to reality.

He loves surprising me, my man. Little gifts here and there, don’t you just love such undeserved treats? Well, today he was taking me out for cake. But he further says he will shock me. He tells me to prepare. It’s big, very, very big………….. I can’t wait! Maybe it’s the necklace I admired at the shop, the bracelet, earrings? Maybe a pair of shoes!!! I am dying here, and no clues. So I wait. 

The shock registered on my face when I saw him could not be anything I prepared for. He was, well shocking!!! And different, and new, and all those things he had told me to expect. Except the shock was on him. He was bald! All that black, curly, wow, sexy, silky hair, gone! Clean shaven and did I say bald?!!

Argument sold. I am not going bald.

THE DAY I TOOK A GUY HOME

My girlfriends are getting married, and the number is fast rising. I wonder sometimes if I will get married……………because I want to get married someday. It’s a good feeling to know that I own someone, my someone, my person, the one maybe??? Oh well, one of these fine days I will sit down with my married girlfriends and ask them how they did it. Trust me, after my grandmother’s funeral fiasco where some friends of ours (the second generation’s friends, the first being my dad and his siblings), male I might add, came to grieve with us, I am not looking forward to it.

Now you are wondering, what’s with the title? No? Oh, I have a little story to tell. Buckle up. I took a guy home.

It was my birthday, so I must surely remember the day very well! See, I had decided that I was going to celebrate my mom’s life, and honour her. The previous day would have been her 47^th and I had missed her. So I saved enough money and purposed to travel upcountry for the weekend. That, and the fact that I fell off the bed. The bunk bed at campus, straight to the floor and at 4am!!! Maybe a warning, well too bad I am not superstitious.

A few months earlier I had linked up with a dear friend. A very dear male friend. We grew up together before first we moved to my dad’s paradise in the savannah bushes of Embakasi then they also later moved. So we lost touch, before a brief meeting during school festivals and now in campus. Yes, a loop. Almost like a doodle, I agree. So when I told him of my plan to go home, he wanted in. He was evidently distraught that he had missed the burial, what better way to make it up. Yes? No, so wipe off that smile from your face.

So the journey began at the break of dawn. I was sore from the fall, but still determined to get home. The excitement died down, I remember sleeping. Then waking up. The driver kept playing the same album over and over and we could even sing along by the time we got to Kisii town. I called my dad to update him when we got to Narok, he was not amused. At all. A small lunch detour at my aunt’s, and at 4pm we got home.

Greetings, shopping received and a cup of tea later we were at the gravesite. Sombre, I hadn’t been to the gravesite since the burial. A few hours, flashback and waterworks we planted a tree and went back to my gramps house. It was getting late. We needed to exit. But not before the interrogation. My grandpa and the young man, my grandma and me.

“So is he handsome? (My grandma is blind) Where does he work? His own company, so he earns good money? Have you known him long? Since childhood, so you know him well? What of a car? Is it big? He drives you around? Hehe!! (She breaks into dance and chants some praises, wedding ululations………) Is his house big? So you have moved in with him? Why did you take so long to bring him? How many children will you have?...............”

We leave, I don’t ask him what went on while I was out. Clearly traumatising for the both of us. So I get back to Nairobi, I am declared persona-non-grata in my dad’s house. He doesn’t even pick up my phone calls. I am broke. And sore all over, purple in some places from the fall on my birthday from the upper deck. It really hurt.

Things are okay now, we can even laugh about it. But no, no guys to my home please! Thankyou. 

So have you taken a guy home? Do share.