I am tired. A sensible person would be in bed if they were tired but not me. So why am I not in bed, when that is where I really want to be? Secondly why am I blogging away on Feb 14th at 20:03pm eh?
Here is why to both questions. My son decided ati today he is a big boy and vigrously resisted all attempts to get him to nap during the day. Around 5.30pm he became really cranky and annoying so I figured he was ready for a nap. My idea was to get him to take a 30-45min long nap… then get him up around 6.30,6.45ish.. we have dinner.. he plays he goes back to bed around 9.00pm… but alas “the well laid plans of man……” It is now 20:06 and he is still sleeping, fully clothed in his day clothes.. dead to the world. I have tried everything to get him up and he is not getting up. This has twice happened to us.. where we find it next to impossible to wake him up… so I am now left to the forces that be to determine what time he will wake.. before I can put my head down. So that answers why I am tired but not in bed.
As to the blogging on 14th… that has to do with the fact that my husband is on his way home from somewhere…and he has with him a muffin and ice cream.. our celebration of Valentines.
NOw on to why I started this post. Guess what I have forgotten…oh it was about my job. Let me tell you.. I am constantly tired! It should be getting better and it is… but putting the baby/little boy to bed is now a harzdous activity because I am bound to fall asleep with him. The fact that he is still not sleeping well through the night is killing me softly.. mpaka we now sleep in shifts. So anyone out there with the magic answer to getting a 2 year old to sleep through the night without waking 3 times … I will pay you money if it works.
I read something somewhere and it irritated me and I want to say something about it.. but I realise that the fact I am tried and wanting to comment about something that has irritated me is not a good combination. I am also trying to figure out what about it has irritated me. I so thought I was past that. Anyway.. whattevverrrr!!
Last weekend I went to a very interesting party. J..the lady to gave me the details about my job.. invited me to a “njoo tule chakula pamoja.. nina pika chakula”. I thought it was a kinda of late lunch, kumbe it was a party that started with lucnh and went on right into the next morning. Remember I met J on a bus.. I hardly know her. Keep that fact in mind. I got there late and realised I was not late, cause there was no food in sight. I got talking to a polish guy.. very funny guy. A funny drunk. People started coming and I started getting uncomfy. Why? Because suddenly there was a house full of all these African women with their white husbands. (Big Al and Nikh did not come.. I was angry with Nikh that morning.. we had had a BAD, SHORT, LONG, SLEEPLESS night). By the way J is not from Kenya.. she lied.. and I called her out on it.. she finally admitted she is from TZ and had lied because “unajua sisi hatusemi kila kitu” (we don’t say everything= we don’t disclose everything to strangers).
I left early.. cause of responsiblities and I wanted to make ammends with my baby.. not that he was aware mummy was pissed.. When I got home I closely reviewed my feelings of discomfort. This is going to take awhile because there is so much mixed in
The class issue: I have never been more aware of CLASS than I have since I moved to Denmark. AFricans of the same social class setting as myself in Denmark are very very few on the ground. I only know one and she moved here due to a job transfer. All the other Africans I meet here are economic immigrants or refugees and we are so very far apart class-wise. Hence I tend to meet African men who were “ma beach boys” in Kenya or “hair-dressers” (that’s what they all say back in Uganda.) So most of the times they are married to the white guys for money. You think I lie.. case in point; J: she says to me “come and meet my husband.. he is an oldie… Mzee sana” She introduces me. He is a portly 45 year old technician. He leaves the room, she begins to tell me how she is leaving him soon. She just married him to get here. Did I k now she had a swedish guy. He died in a plane crash. A year later she met Mr. 45.. he wanted to marry her. she agreed. She has a shop, plot and 4wheel drive back home. She showed me pictures. I believe they are hers. So I asked why she married Mr 45… she smiled then laughed… and asked “mbona wewe ulimoa” (why did you marry yours”). I was not in the mood… I was partly disgusted and fascinated. Fasinated that she could be so coldly calculating. Later on Big Al says to me.. they deserve each other.. him for just going off to TZ and marrying so quick…
I get uncomfortable because I am not “ONE OF THEM”. I am not like that. I do not want to associate with them nor do I want to be painted with the same brush. I do not want others.. both Danes and other Africans looking and me and thinking… “ah she is one of those”. No I am not.
I face this in Uganda when I am with Allan and we are out in town and you get all these comments. Same thing in Nairobi. Sometimes it is tiring..after sometime you shrug it off and don’t even notice. In 2007 Dec while visting in Ug.. Big Al, Nikh and I went out to get lucnh at a local take way. Everyone was staring at us.. and it was not like a local local joint where a zungu would cause a stir… nope none of that.. but the stares. We went in, got out take away, went out and the stares followed so did the comments. I was so conscious I begun to giggle as we walked away.. ridiculous. It bothered me that I was bothered.. then I realised we had not be back home together for sometime.. and I had forgotten what it felt like to be stared at all the time… Big Al.. the said to me… “get used to it.. I get stared at all the time, I no longer notice it”
There is more.. I am tired…