Bridezilla!

You’ve been musing about the perfect tuxedo cut for your wedding, entertaining the style in your head over and over again. Slaaaaaaaaaash! Forget it all. She has concluded all that on your behalf, together with the minute details that you thought were quite insignificant. You know details like how the flowers will hang at the venue’s entrance, the colour of the reverse side of the guests’ table name tents, the colour of the reverse of the table linen, what butter brand will be used on the appetizer buns and an impressively endless list of everything insignificant.

You as much as open your mouth to say “Honey, shouldn’t we...”, slaaaaaaaaaaash! You get frozen halfway with your probably half-baked idea.

This is going to be The Wedding she dreams of since she was two. Nothing will deviate from the grand mental picture that she has. Everything will be perfect. It better be otherwise she won’t feel “married”.

There’s something about the way chics carry on about weddings that freaks me out. Exchanging vows in front of the entire village that came along with a few octogenarian relatives (poor souls) ain’t enough. It’s not enough that at least you will settle into a life of companionship and love. Noooooooo, that ain’t enough. The very act of proposing to her which you thought was the icing on the cake becomes totally minute the minute she says “Yes”. From that moment forward, she takes over as actor, supporting actor, main grip, make-up artist, visual fx designer and yes, you guessed it - Director. You as much as whisper a new word not from her script, “Cuuuuuuut!” Retake!

Chics would go on and on about how the shoes should look like, how many stairs that cake should have, what flavour it would be, what shape, colour, weight and height it will take. She will most likely choose the chef as well as the ingredients and sufuria that that cake will be baked on. And if you thought that was attention to detail, wait til you get to The Wedding Dress.

Oh, forget about the dress. That’s a conversation to last years. By the time she’s hooked up for real, trust me, she’s a fashion designer in her own right. She has it covered down to the number of laces on the white gloves, the length of the bow ties and the shininess of the bling bling hanging from the dress.

Just when you start feeling the swoon of getting swallowed in this one-way street, that you have no say in, you find yourself standing in that isle that has her name written all over, whispering “I Do” to Bridezilla!

Then she commands you “Say it loudly”!

Unity Candle

Today i learnt an interesting thing.

That in some modern weddings, there's something called the Unity Candle.

It's a candle lit from two other single candles and signifies the becoming of one for the two people being wed.

Struck by its symbolism, I inevitably processed the thought further.

As its lit, the other two are extinguished. The past left in the past. Individuals become partners.

And so in the state of their union, they are flamed, changed and consumed by the same heat.

They are swayed and troubled by the same wind.

They follow the path of the same cord and turning at its bends without resistance.

They stand firm on the same footing and if weak get extinguished by the same fall.

Sometimes cool and composed, at times fiery and tempious.

The drips of their experiences form back within them to make them stronger.

And if they let go of these experiences, its hastens their extinction.

The drips of their union fall not far from them and if they do its in darkness.

At its height, the union burns bright, spreads light until at its death, darkness.

Drip to drip, ash to ash.

All is consumed apart from the cord whose path they followed.

The memory of the light they shone.

And the base on whose footing they planted their foundation.

WAPI16, Idd & Kids

Sato was one of those days. Hectic with like a thousand things cramped up into the 8 or so hours of daylight. At the end of it – i think it was so worthwhile for me. Started with a peaceful Idd prayer, then jumped to a crazy mid-morning in town, then headed to teach a graphics workshop at the British Council which also happened to run simultaneously with WAPI (yes, that explains my absense on this wapi), then dashed kuenda kujivinjari with family coz it was Idd! But rest assured, when i touched my Grandma’z pilau, all the stress vaporised!

Ahem, my weekend as a paparazzi! Enjoy.

Chivalry Ain’t Dead

In the midst of the little fright of drizzle, in the middle of the sprawling Kencom bustop, in the dead of the rush hour, scores of people haste to and fro, trying to connect to their respective places. One curious sight catches my eye. This woman, beautifully lady-like is on the same rush. Behind her is a man holding up an umbrella to cover her but little sheltering himself from the rain. He’s clearly trying to keep up with her brisk walk, all the while smiling sheepishly. This man here is a rare species – one very thought to be long extinct by most of Nairobi ladies today. This species escaped my camera; i think i could have fetched some pretty prices at the Endangered Species Section of Nairobi Museum!

But then again I think the drizzle must have gotten the better of his wool for him to act so selfless. She on the other hand seemed to care little that he looked more like a wet clown than a prince charming, running behind her with that umbrella - awkwardly pushing himself forward while stretching his hands further to the skies. She was busy scavenging for that magic number in front of the bus that translated to her trip home! I read desperation all over him. Poor dude, looked almost like he had become subservient to this lady. Was that blind intoxication or was it gentlemanly chivalry. Beats me.

Anyway, got me thinking. Does real chivalry still exist? Is it still possible to take a lady out to dinner and not get into a fight of who’s paying that bill coz of some post-Beijing memorandum? Is it possible to still pull out seats before she sits and not as a prank? Is it still possible to escort someone to her gate and her not starting to act all jittery like you expected a peck (at the least) for the selfless gesture? Is it possible? Of coz it is.

But then it begs the question. Why are they that rare?

My wild guess is this. It’s the ladies’ fault. They have gradually and surely exhausted any trace of chivalry in today’s men. Everything now is some form of engendered competition. You do it the manly way you know how, it becomes “Kwani you think us women can’t do it?” Mpaka we’ve fikad a point we start publishing zines like “Adam” to reclaim what we think manhood represents. This all in response to the True Loves, the Drums and the Cosmos.

This leads me to think that chivalry is actually what women think it is. If they consider you cooking for them ugali at 6am is chivalric, then it is!

Painting the Town Orange!

My weekend was ecstatic. On sato, it seemed the better part of nairobi's residents wore my favourite colour - orange! Every two steps you took, you saw an orange top. Women, men, kids! It was like an orange-uniform day. All these because that was the day the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) party with Raila Odinga as its flag-bearer were holding a public rally at Uhuru Park to launch his presidential campaign. And they termed it Day of Thunder. The turnout, as expected was mammolithic! An orange sea of humanity as far as your eyes could see. I scattered about to get shots of this orange inspiration. Below, behold!