The Sharp Tongued Rose

I must take some time to tell you about my house help. She comes in once a week and cleans the house, does the laundry, cooks chapos (I love chaps (- double entendre .. what do you know!)) & irons. Bless her heart she is hard working but she is the most opinionated person I know. I really wonder what happened to the days when employers were feared and revered?

Her oddities include:

1. I don't have a soap dish since my last help the-butter-fingered-one broke it. Rose (real name) gives a heavy sigh whenever she's passing by the bathroom and asks why I just don't buy another one. So much so, I actually bought one today. Is that what life with a nagging wife is like?!

2. Rose has made it very clear that her working conditions leave a lot to be desired and she has half a mind to go the KBC way and march on the street demanding better working conditions. 'Why?' you might ask? Because apparently the numerous buckets I have and have used without trouble are apparently too small. When really shall I make that little investment in a big basin?

3. She let me know that if I must insist on leaving my key with the watchman (who is another guy with a story of his own) she just couldn't work for me. And she was dead serious. They'd had their differences in the past so at what passes for an interview, she put that as her minimum requirement, right up there with pay negotiations.

4. Rose thinks I cook well (she eats what's in the fridge on her day in) but my food leans too much to Indian cuisine which is great but just not African.

5. One day when I told her that she need not iron my beddings (since I just don't understand why people do that) she informed me that I might just get lucky (meaning a man may come visit my bed) and its always good to be prepared.

Here's to Rose!

Mariana

I got myself Eric Wainaina's new CD 'Love + Protest'. I really like it and think it's brilliant. It is unfortunate that Eric still doesn't seem to believe it possible to sing one genre of music throughout a single song; so your slow jam will always and unfailingly burst out into kyuk one-man-guitar-type beats at the end. Having said this (and taken it into account) this CD is great.

(Spoiler Alert - Not sure it applies to music but there you have it) There's a particular song I've been playing in loop for some time now. It's called (no prize for guessing) 'Mariana'. Song's about a poor guy (financially) who's in love with Mariana. He asks her to give him a year to pull his life together and tries one unsuccessful venture after another. When he sees that he's going to loose her for lack of money, he takes a drastic step: decides to rob a bank. After pulling off the heist, he gets shot while making his get-away and dies. (I think he leaves her the money he stole but I can't quite figure that part out). It has a lovely tune that just calls out and makes you listen.

I know it's silly but I find the story so beautiful in a romantic/fatalistic/dumb kind of way. Superficially it tells of a love so strong that he would have done anything to be with her. But then again, that's the kind of reasoning that sees those small side stories in the paper "Man kills wife and 2 children when she threatened to leave". Being single at thirty-something has lead me to be very cynical (well I've always been cynical but now I'm worse off). So the thought of a love beyond reason is comforting from a distance ..

Must really get myself into a relationship ...!

Don't Pick!!!

Today I got a call from "Don't Pick!" I was in a meeting but couldn't hold in the chuckle. And the thing is, I don't actually remember who I saved that way. The only thing I know for sure is that it's a jamaa. I suspect it's the guy I met in a supermarket and in a moment of weakness, temporary insanity and looseness gave my number to. He begun bugging me almost immediately & as I'd unfortunately given him my main line, I had to figure out a way of avoiding his calls.I follow instructions so didn't pick.

Then there's "Avoid". This is the married man I once met while in the company of many who now feels that we should do coffee, watch plays, 'hang out' & hold hands. First, I prefer not to spend the valuable time of my early 30's looking taken. Then every minute spent with him is a minute not spent finding my own man. And what really does a married man want from a single girl other than exploring her great wit & intriguing conversation? Great though you may be, there is no benefit to my hanging out with you one-on-one.

A new entrant is "Miscellaneous Idiot". This is a guy who stood me up on some day and has since been trying to patch things up. His story went the way of the curly kit; died.

But don't blame me .. dating in Nairobi can be rather tough. There's a strange assortment of weirdos and people who just dumbfound you (like the guy who once told me 'You look like you have some cash ... I could date a woman with cash' - to give you a clue on this, the guy was just impressed that I had a job). Then there are all the cheapskates whose idea of a great first date is your cooking them dinner at your place (and perhaps hopefully thereafter giving them a 3 dimensional tour of your bed!) Then of course there are the brothers who take you to a petrol station to chew miraa and drink liquor while listening to music blasting from their Subarus (I swear I did not make that one up. Has happened to some girl pals & it just cracks me up. Seriously, they are sensible girls who were talked into a date at a petrol station .. and went!). Just cause it would be unfair not to mention them, there are those who feel like God's gift to womenfolk and let you know at every possible opportunity that you are indeed very very lucky that you have a slot of his time on that day.

I am a woman suffering.

Extra - I must end with this joke:
Whenever Jim's mistress calls him, his wife charges his phone. Why? Because he's saved her as "Battery Low" :-)

5 Cheers for Women

I was challenged to write something about women that wasn’t in any way negative. No ‘my life is so hard because I’m a woman’ brouhaha … It was much tougher than I expected. Why? Coz it’s so much easier to laugh at the strangely inappropriate than to state happy facts.

Well here goes happy fact No. 1: I like being a woman coz we have breasts. I said it. I mean, as a jamaa you can’t really go round with low cut jeans showing off your junk. That’s just crude, crass & disgusting. With boobies on the other hand, it’s a given. I happen to be happily endowed and am always at a loss at what I get away with because of them twins.

Happy Fact No.2: You must have no qualms about using your femininity to get what you want. I’m not telling you to sleep with the boss to get promoted (that’s so 1980’s – and besides, if you really must, aim for the boss’ boss’ boss. More practical returns .. but I digress). Wear that short skirt if it will make your meeting go better. Lash out into tears when confronted by traffic cops for making an illegal turn … while talking on the phone … with expired insurance. Hold the bulb under the sink to clean it so someone else jumps to your rescue to change the bulb (and spare you electrocution). There’s no shame in it. That’s my story & I’m sticking to it!

Happy fact No.3 is the miracle of motherhood. I’m not so blessed as to have kids but watching my mother friends, I’ve realized that the mother-child bond is like no other. It’s unique, beautiful and well worth the effort of the pushing. God bless all mothers.

Happy Fact No. 4 – it seems that the male child was forgotten somewhere in Kenya’s (not-so) recent past and as a result, there are now more upwardly mobile women. I’ve heard many a guy complain that the tables are terribly turned against them and that given a chance, an equal opportunity employer is more likely to hire a girl than a chap. It’s thus a happy time to be female.

Happy Fact No. 5 – we’re generally speaking cleaner, neater, safer & fresher to be around. That must count for something no? I’m reaching huh? Alright, give us a No. 5 that fits the bill!

This evening, smile at a woman near you & tell her she’s lucky.

The Neighbour's Man

My neighbours man is too friendly.

Ok .. I take 3 steps back. I have a new neighbour. She's quiet and generally keeps to herself but there's always the friendly 'hello' in the corridor. I recently noticed that a man seems to have moved in. That's quite fine seeing as flats do not a hostel make. But now I've noticed that he seems to be hanging out their door whenever I'm leaving/around mine. You can't really tell what he's doing there, but he's always eager to snatch up any morsels of conversation he can. By golly there's a day I all but ran away from him .. And he managed to catch up!

Why is this so terrible you wonder? Perhaps I should be flattered by the attention? Giggling girlishly at the door whenever I know he's near? No. The expression don't shit where you eat could not be truer here (yes I know you both eat and shit in the comfort of you own home, but work with me here..). I'll say it without apology: women are the worst.Terrible with a capital 'T'. And there's little worse than a woman who thinks you're trying to snatch her man away from her. Ask me, I'd know. I lost a friend who I'd considered all but a sister because my then man said she'd tried to her moves on him. Turns out he was lying (sorry girl) but the irreparable damage was done.

Now imagine me coming home to burning curtains because I paused to ask my neighbour's (good looking) gentleman friend for the time? No thank you! I'd rather be the neighbour he considers quiet & strange

The Working Woman & Her (Elusive) Man

It's 11:24 pm. I'm in bed working away on my laptop. I've got deadlines I missed eons ago taxing my mind while pondering the meetings & workshops I must still attend. Pray tell where in the middle of all this is one meant to get a man full of interesting conversation to chat away with and mould into marriage material? When are coffee dates & rendez-vous meant to be planned leave alone attended? How does one take time to go to the movies to watch 007 when his every missed gun shot and plunging BMW (really?) reads like the story of your every day work life (replacing bullets with stinker emails & BMW's with profit margins). Dating was not invented with the 30+ working girl in mind.

Then there's the other side of the pie ... Married with 3 kids and the hubby who always asks 'Honey, where are my socks?' So you get home at 9pm bone tired only to be met by the resentful look of the spouse who while flipping through the DSTV (you paid for) sulks because 'you're always getting home late nowadays'. Or maybe he's of the stock that declares that he cannot eat anyone's cooking other than yours. So whatever time you're in the door, he let's you know he's hungry through his every sullen motion and doesn't even keep you company as you chop and throw things you can hardly see into a pan. Really? Good thing the salt is usually stored far away from the Red Cat rat poison ...

The Lone Rangeress and the Bar Counter

At some point late last year, I came across an article in the Saturday Magazine by the always entertaining Biko. The piece was about women who drink alone at bars and have the audacity to sit at the counter. The point was that this was a clear challenge to all men present; an invitation to treat; a request for attention and conversation.

I beg to differ. You see I am very often that woman. Why you wonder does a single gal choose to go out on her own? Aren’t there people she could hang out with or better things that she could do with her time (like take up knitting)? By the time you’re my age, a lot of your pals are married, in relationships, dating, or just plain old busy so it does often happen that you have no one to hang out with. Why not stay home? Home which is a refuge from the outside world at most times can seem like a prison when you’re there too often. Besides, I like the loud music, flashy lights and crowds of the rave scene.

But believe me, it does take thick skin to go out solo.  You get strange looks from people (both men and women) who have no doubt that you’re waiting for company and keep craning necks to see what the guy your waiting for looks like. Then the realization dawns on them, as clear as the techno beat playing, that you’ve been stood up. What follows are overdone sympathetic glances sent your way to communicate that they’ve been there too, while the truth of the women’s glee and the men’s caution (after all there must be some reason why you were stood up) is easily discernible. If you’re lucky, by the time things take this ugly downward shift, your drink will have carried you beyond the point of caring.

When at a bar alone, believe me the last place you want to be is at a table for 2. This is actually an invitation to all and sundry to come chat you up. By the time they notice you’re solo there’s really nothing stopping them from taking up the chance. I know am single and should be doing all I can to get me a suitor but it’s never that serious. Never that serious. By the time you’ll have gone through the riff raff and the ‘heaven’s lost an Angel’ one liners, the headache you’ll have will make you wish you’d stayed home.

So presenting the bar counter (tada!). If you’re a single lady thinking of going it alone, this is the most ideal place to position yourself. Think about it practically. Preferably, get a seat to one end of the counter. This will probably have a view to whatever match is on, a good view of the whole place and you have unrestricted access to the bar man. The barman is actually an unsung hero; the symbol of peace and safety. So here’s this level headed guy (who must stay that way for purposes of ensuring profitability and keeping his job) who will talk to you if you seem to want conversation and leave you the hell alone if you don’t. At the counter you run a tab and don’t have to go through the indignity of being refused service because as a single (black) woman on her own, you must be a prostitute waiting for a white man to come along and buy you liquor. For some reason, it takes a guy quite some confidence to come up to the bar counter and chat you up (unless he just so happens to be the fellow you sat next to). I don’t actually know why that is (natural selection?) but if you’re looking to weeding out the chaff at a bar, that would be the place to position yourself.

Having said all the above, I must point out that I’m still single :-)

Happy New Year!