A few things about me

Archive for October, 2006

Venting! No comments allowed!!

I AM NOT THE WRITER I HOPED I AM OR WANT TO BE!

It frustrates me to no end that I am not  bloody EXCELLENT at anything! My writing at its best is mediocre. I base that on the fluidity of the sentences, variety of vocabulary, all the other writing tools, humour  and plain comparison.

I read stuff and realise that perphas I am below average. My best is not good enough. 

I am away from that perfection and I WANT perfection in JUST one part of my life. Something, JUST something that I AM really, really GOOD at besides talking.

In keeping with the saying “To thine own self be true”, I realise that I am one of the millions with unrealised or rather, unidentifiable talents and therefore as of today I will focus my TALENT CHI on perfecting my body.. at least I can do that… if I want it that bad….do I?

My reasoning is simple, if I can PERFECT my body (as per my standards) then I have achieved EXCELLENCE in an aspect of my life and at my funeral my eulogy will read

“She had the perfect NATURAL body”

I have gone off the deep end today.

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Ice Cream & Random Thoughts

I have just eaten a whole ice cream! Usually I cannot finish a whole one be it a cone or whatever. Most times Big Al is on hand to finish it off or I am at home  it goes in the freezer for later which could be any time from the next day to never (if in the freezer, Big Al usually gets to it before I do). I am kinda feeling guilty about indulging. The plan was to have meatballs and potatoe/parsnips marsh with  spinach. (Inspiration gleamed from a food ad seen last night). Now, I feel stuffed and  need a glass of water. Does anyone else have that. Every time I have ice-cream or choclate, I need a glass of water.

Things with God are working out alright at the moment. I am in a good place spritually and currently trying to ignore a certain verse that says something to the effect.. “To know something is wrong and to do it is SIN” (emphasis mine). Thing is with this particular issue (see how I choose to call it) I enjoy it kabisa. It helps pass time, I feel good and basically it is something I have done for ever and nope, I ain’t spilling the beans. It doesn’t help that today I was listening to a Televangelist talking about sowing—-time—-harvest.

The gist of the message was that as human beings we sow seeds (habit/activity) that may be good or not good. Time elapses where the nothing seems to be happening so if it is a bad habit, well, nothing happened so one just keeps on sowing. Finally BAM!! harvest! and God help you if what you sowed was nasty.

With that message  at the forefront of my mind, I am trying to pretend I did not hear it and well I am still gonna do what I wanna do because I like what I do and I feel good when I do it and heck I have no idea how I am gonna confess to God about it….. so watch this space.

Last night I watched 3 episodes of the Swan. (was knitting while I watched, therefore was involved in positive activity rather than vegetating infront of the box). I could not help wondering about them swans. This image came to mind

The year 2590… group of archeologist kneeling infront of an excavated grave

Archeologist  speaking to camera: Before us is the body of a homosapien female dated about 584 years old. Of interest are the two ball like sacs which seem to have been filled with a gel like substance, lying in the chest area in the region of the breasts. It would seem that the females then enhanced thier beauty with rather primitive, painful procedures in order to attract the men! We do not yet know how this was done but have found various plastic and metallic materials in the area of the chin, buttocks and calfs…… one wonders at such procedures”.

I don’t know where I stand on plastic surgery for the sake to helping self esteem issues. In cases where one has been disfigured by accidents, fires or disease  and also in cases where one has extremely large breasts or lips… especially breast…..I am all for it, as for the rest, I don’t know.

Goodnight for now.. kinda tired and feeling sluggish.

Quoting Kola Boof

I once had “beef” with Ms Boof on some discussion board after I expressed my opinions about some of her stuff. On the whole I think she is a little out there (maybe more than a little out there) and I had no problem telling her so, and in return I believe she labelled me a “colonised mind”.

I whole heartedly agree with SOME of her statements and share SOME sentiments but on the whole Ms Boof is like WOHA! (kidogo crazy)to me.

I am supposed to be working on something but keep getting side tracked and in the midst of my meadering about on the net I found this interview of Ms Boof and I choose to quote on this part because I find that she does put it ever so eloquently. (Do prepared to be upset if you do not agree. Just walk away quietly and you can mutter to yourself about how off the wall me and Ms Boof are)

As for “color”, I am sick of very yellow skinned black people claiming that they’re just as black as the blackest African–that’s camel-crap. If you have large quantities of non-black blood in your veins, then you are not as black as the authentic blacks. They empower white supremacy by advancing the idea that you can be ‘white’ and represent blackness, but no one has confronted them about this, because none of us have any respect or love for blackness in the first place. I am sick of people disrespecting black people and disrespecting Africa by claiming that Mariah Carey is a black woman–she is not black. Neither is Vin Diesel. Why in the hell won’t they claim Alek Wek who really is black? They hate authentic black people, that’s why! This is a white supremacist planet that retains its power by uplifting the white man’s mother while outlawing the black man’s mother or presenting a mulatto imitation of her to render her invisible–even black men take part in this–and I’m hated because I understand that and rebuke it.

The Saga continues

ok so I wrote something about Madonna and her explantion of the adoption saga..( for more info go to Oprah.com)   and it all disappeared and I am in kinda hurry.. so till next time.. maybe I will maybe I won’t

Tsotsi

If you call yourself African

If you call yourself a movie critic

If you love movies

If you like good movies

Go rent Tsotsi… what you waiting for.. go now….

and nope, I’m not getting paid to plug it!

Kenyan Police Nightmare

I will start by confessing that the first bride I ever paid… and may I point out it was due to extortion, was to a Kenyan Official. I was 16/17 years old, my lil sis and I were travelling to Kenya by bus from Uganda and we happened to fall upon a health official at the border. At that time there was still need for the cholera and yellow fever card, sometimes they asked for it sometimes not. The details are hazy but I think sis had forgetten her card or one of the vacinations had expired. The official then asked for her passport, thereafter he begun threatening her with “utalala hapa kwa cell” (you will spend the night in the cell). Meanwhile all the passengers had boarded the bus and the driver was ready to leave. He came back and tried to negotiate with the official who refused to hand over sister’s passport. Driver took me aside and asked me if I had any money and I should hand it to the official. I think I gave the man about Ksh 200. That was a lot those days. Subsequently, I have had to pay may Kenyan Officials to do their work. In Uganda, I have only ever paid it once and it was a woman, again extortion.

A week ago I was making my way back to Denmark. I had a day flight. The night before I had booked a taxi from our local area. Njoro (taxi driver’s name) was on time. He came in his battered  little car. Didn’t bother me one bit. Mum sat in the co driver’s seat, I was at the back and with my suitcase. His boot/trunk was too dirty. Off we go. Njoro was lively telling us of the development in our area soon we were on Mombasa road. Just after the new Hotel, Pangari  there is a major road block. I saw the cops and knew we were going to get stopped.

Mum was non too pleased, I was thinking, ok, what could be wrong. The last time I was stopped at the same road I had to pay a bribe. Again extortion. One of the passengers in the back seat was not wearing a seat belt and was told to “panda gari” (climb into the police van). It was a friday night, and it would have entailed our passenger being held till Monday before appearing before a judge. Unfortonately for the cop, it was dark, I could not see how much money I gave him, when I reached the airport (again I was on my way to the airport) I realised I had given him Ksh 50.. I was pleased that that was all he got. He must have been mad when he found out!

Anyway, so here we are at about 9,30am on Mombasa Rd. Cop asks for Njoro’s DL and he gives it to him. Then cop peers into the car and realises we are passengers on the way to the airport.  He goes around the car and the circus begins “Hii gari haina miguu…. wewe hauna miguu”(your car tyres are finished). Mum starts muttering stuff about me not listening to her about which cab driver to use.. I am thinking “fuck this shit, it cannot be happening again”. Njoro is pleading and begging asking the cop “Nitafanya nini, si tuonge vizuri” (lets sort this out). Cop just keeps going on and on, finally he tells Njoro that he will hold on to Njoro’s DL and when Njoro returns they will discuss it!!

Back on track we are off. Mum is pissed majorly. She says there is another road block at the entrance of the Airport and the cops also inspect cars. I am like “nah they do not… it’s just security”. Njoro is going on about “Hii ndiyo sababu polisi wanaulia kilasiku na sisi hatujali” (this is the reason cops are killed and we feel nothing). We get to the airport and as surely as the sun rises, a cop with his stupid fimbo under his arm stops us very quickly, you could just see he was out for money. Njoro curses, mum mutters more about me not listenining and if only I had listened to her. I just want to cry for Njoro and because I am angry.

Cop asks Njoro for his DL again. Mum tells cop that another cop at the first road block has it and Njoro has to return. Cop looks at the car and says the car is not road worthy. Mum says to cop, since other cop has Njoro’s DL cop should let him go cause he has a case pending with previous cop. Cop feels nothing.  Tells us to get out of the car and he will find another car to take us to the terminal while he takes Njoro away. Njoro is about to cry. I am angry beyong belief. Mum is pissed beyond pissed because I did not fucking listen to her about which cab to book. We are all pissed.

Cop stops a green RAV 4. Intention, RAV 4 will drive us to the terminal. The guy locks eyes with me assess situation and figures he is not about to get involves.  Guy says he is not going to the terminal, cop lets him go. Finally he says to Njoro to take us and he will follow Njoro. Njoro gets in, he is shaking, I am pissed, mum is quiet. I pay Njoro while he drives. It cost me Kshs 1200. I have only a one thousand note. He asks if I have two 500 notes I say no. He takes his wallet out and starts putting the money in different nooks in the car. We get to terminal. I have been looking behind, cop is not there.. maybe he did not follow. We are out of the car, cop is right behind us. He walks to Njoro. We say fare well. As we live I hear him ask Njoro “Kwani hawakulipi”. (are they not paying you).. I never heard the response.

Mum and I say farewell. I check in, I am already emotional about Njoro and saying bye to mum is the breaking point. At the immigration desk, I break down. The official is kinda nice, my eyes are swollen with unshed tears and he is being nice. I finish with him, I go straight to the toilet and have a good cry. Finally, I dry my eyes, flash the toilet, I got out look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red, I look bad.

I hate Kenyan police. I haven’t yet asked mum about Njoro, she may still be pissed that I did not listen to her about which cab driver to book!

Celebs and thier”Adopt-a-child” issues!

The whole thing is getting on my nerves. This is why. It does not ring true. Angelina adopting a child from Africa was okish given that she already had one from Asia and Zahara was a total orphan (both parents dead). I know Angelina is not the first celeb to adopt from Asia, but for some reason the media chose to make a circus out of it and we all knew.

Now ati Madonna has jumped on the bandwagon and is adopting a Malawian boy and his father has agreed to the whole thing. It irritates me and yes, I do not know what her true intentions are, but I cannot help think that “hype” is her driving motivation. I pray and hope that the Malwian government does not approve …controversy is already brewing since the government does not allow international adoptions, but Madonna is getting a waiver hmmmm……

Then Jay-Z and Beyonce are in Nigeria doing a concert or something and helping African kids.. and Ms Oprah is building a leadership school in SA for improvished girls. (Ms Oprah’s idea is cool kabisa, I ain’t knocking her)

Prior to that there was Bob Geldof and his “Poverty Campaign” then there is Bono and “whatever he stands for, but something to do with saving Africans”.

Don’t get me wrong, it is all good and as someone put it to me, if we cannot help our own we should not stop others from helping us…. but here is my take on it.

Stop using my misfortune to your advantage. That’s the way I see it. There are countless and countless of African individuals who are changing the lives of the improvished on a daily basis and yet no one covers this in the media. Countless churches, NGO, aunties, uncles, extended family doing their bit ….. do they get media coverage…. NOPE. But let some celeb come to Africa and express their “saddness and awakening to the plight of these children and deciding to do something about it because they can” …. it rubs me wrong…….not because I do want to see others help US it just does not sit right.

So Madonna if you ever read this, I hope I truly hope you educate yourself a little bit on bringing up an African child. As much as you can give him all the material things in the world.. try to ensure he never forgets his identity, his home, his people!

And yes, I am back… and its bloody cold.!