Soccercism!

***

I must admit, Brazil got me worried for a minute there with their lackluster performance in their first two games. But hey, i've been busy convincing others (and myself) that it's all in the game plan. Yeah, and that they wouldn't want their rivals to read their game before the time when it matters most came. The plan is to lead them on a different direction and when they meet you, wham!! They won't have an idea what hit them... the hints have been coming out from magical Robinho and legendary Ronaldo. Anyway, above that, this is one team that has scores and scores of legendary playaz, coaches and wins behind them. They have not come to this level by chance and to even think about dismissing them with a wimp of wishful thinkin' that they won't cut it is heresy. You can be forgiven if you do that to other teams notably France, USA, Ecuador etc.

So i heard people go on and on about Ronaldo (poor guy, i was also starting to really doubt his ability to perform) but he came back in style - 2 goals to drown the Rising Suns and equal Gerd Muller as the leading FIFA World Cup goalscorer of all time with an impressive 14 goals. Talk about silencing the critics.

My bone of contention is the shifting of goal posts by some "fans" now that clarity begins to embrace the game. The solids have gone thru and the others gone home. For some people (namely Czech fans), it was a bitter pill to swallow. They fervently claimed this was Czech's year to take the cup home. Alas! Now one of my gud buddies seeing his team leaving for Prague suddenly became a Ghanaian supporter. Undoubtedly, the Black Stars have had a gud run in this tournament, but drawn against the Selecao in the elimination stage would be their true test. So he asks me where my loyalty will lie then - coz to him, am a sellout for not supporting "Africa". My loyalty will lie with the same team i started with, win or lose (and lose is a scarce verb in our vocab). I mean, it's so convenient to become a "real" African when situations favour you (or not). It's easier to be "identified" as one of us/them when all along you've been out there..... Am curious to see where he'll jump next if the Black Stars pack back to Accra.

At the end, its just a game. Am having alot of fun with him on this one, i think once Ghana get booted with a scoreline of 6 - 1, then he'll come back to his senses. That scoreline is not hyperbolic, its as realistic as it gets. I mean, Ronaldo has to betta Muller's record, Robinho, Adriano and Kaka will be eyeing the Golden Boot and their underdog opponent despite putting up a brave fight, will be meeting them for the 1st time. Ouch, can't wait!!!

As other people say, it ain't over until the Fat Boy scores!!

Portfolio1

As i said in kujianika, putting up some of my wax here for props, barbs and comments.


This piece is a birthday card; the client's brief was "Make it Pink and Black!" That was it. You got to love client's really truncated instructions and huge anticipation for the ultimate design. Reconciling the two can be a designer's nightmare.... and very often, bliss!

Ma3 za Nai

***
Grew up with them. Running and rode around in them. Loved them. They inspired us with brighter flashier lights, UV and all inside. Design catapulted to the extra plane, creavity forged with madness. Created crazier stikaz and louder muzik to mentally indulge wateja when they diverted their minds from the troubles of this world, on their way home. Talkin' about Nairobi's Matatus.

Say What?

the art of thinking before saying

I don't know when i first got fascinated with what people say or how they say it, and became obsessed with the double meanings, puns and absurdities of those words and phrases. All i know is that i somehow began appreciating and enjoying the twisted meanings or their implied even in situations where the other party was dead serious (read meetings). I find myself instantly quippin' on someone's comment then moments later realize juz how cheeky or "punny" my own statement came out. What i love though is when that sort of quip comes from the other person.

Am busy discussing The Apprentice with an Acquaintance and she innocently quips "Oh, have you watched the new one with that virgin guy?" Well, here is when my brain overworks for a few milliseconds and i go like "Which virgin guy?" My mind is already laughing then it translates the same to my face when i see her face cringing with what i think is embarrassment-cum-unbelief! It then almost instantaneously hits her how corny her double-meaning comment was.

More intriguing however is when someone tried convincing how Islam was "inspired" by the devil. Since i try to be liberal (try here means am not), and believe my brain is for thinking with, i entertain the thought so that we can both somehow reach some form of logical conclusion on the reality of things. Think about it for a minute. Or two. Picture the devo tellin' jamaz to pray to One Great GOD. Picture if you will, him commanding "his followers" to shun & despise him and on top of it avoid anything evil - talk about shooting oneself on the foot! Now the trail of thought has really got me thinking. Why would satan inspire so much righteousness, love & humility to parents, helping the poor, preach peace and kindness to neighbours and your fellow humans? Mmhh, something wrong in this circuitry. Ask me another, my mind can no longer comprehend nor synthesize the thought so i drop it while laughing at its audacity. I think we should give some credit to lucifer for shrewdness - i mean he's been around so long, if he went that way, i think he'd prefer suicide instead!

I guess sometimes everyone says stuff without pausing to put a thought into it and that's ok, that's what makes the human experience juicier. Spontaneity and outrage! One thing i put a check on though is coming up with quotable quotes like these in front of a whole crowd or betta yet on national tv!! I'd rather spend a few more seconds thinking about what am about to say than sayin' it wrongly, regrettin' and living with its repercussions sometimes for the longest period.

Oh, by the way, that Virgin guy we talked about earlier is Richard Branson! Don't get caught pants down with comments like this (pun very much intended)!!

Samba Tyme!!

The Art of Soccer

Once every four years, i transform to embrace a form of art that has its galleries filled with pomp, fireworks, lively parades and anthems. It is the only time I convert to a true football fanatic as million others across our blue globe. And without even blogging a lot, let me say straight up, as a matter-of-factly, of course, Brazil will win this year’s WorldCup in Germany. Nimetangaza msimamo!!! No bets please, but if I was to accept any, I’d bet my first ever Q&Q watch, my entire Intro & Gerald Levert collection, the Chinese lantern and top it with a golden engraved bracelet my first love gave me. That’s how much trust I have in the Seleção. God-willing, this time round we will witness unreal, unmatched and raw talent explode from Munich to Dortmund. We will be thrilled and amazed by the greatest show on earth, but the ecstasy will double every time the yellow, green and blue regally match into a match. We will jot down score for score and reach fever pitch when the month culminates with the raising of the coveted goldware by Cafu.

If you’re still skeptical, here are a few facts that might tilt you. Brazil has a FIFA world ranking of number one. They qualified for Germany through a 9-7-2 record, and although Argentina had the same, the Samba Kings had a greater goal differential. They are the only team to appear at all 18 tournaments since 1930 and won it five times in 1958, '62, '70, '94 and 2002. They were runners-up in '50 and '98; third place in '38, '78; fourth place in '74. A record to behold in itself, but here’s the shocker. This year’s squad list is sweeter than candy and flows like a nursery rhyme. I bet even the germans themselves will be supporting Brasil!!

Cafu, Lúcio, Roque Júnior, Roberto Carlos, Emerson, Zé Roberto, Kaká, Ronaldinho (the Emperor), Ronaldo, Adriano.

The list is so spiced up that even a great player like Robinho, taunted by Pelé to take his legendary place, is not among the starting line-up!! That should be enuff reason to be afraid, be very afraid.

It's about time we add another star to our emblem. The Sixth Star!!

June 13th, 2100hrs, Berlin, Germany: Croatia here we come! Let the samba begin!!

Weed Bid

Ditch cig, smoke weed

i must confess, this hiatus business is quite cool. i managed to recharge, major!!! And not to mention reflect, revive, reconnect and reorganize. over this period of "separation", i missed someone greatly, i think she was busy not missing me that much from the shores of some lake in burundi. well i did my "retaliation" by going to mombasa and the shores of the indian ocean. and the breeze as usual caressed my face with whispers of peace and relaxation. and i got rained on the beach, dripping wet for hours. juz have to love nature.

this period also brought me enuff insights and unusual drama. the one that was most amusing and one that needs a barb to the government for major "upumbavu" is the new law on cigarette smoking. now, we are made to believe that this piece of shitty legislation (for lack of a betta term) actually went through some intellegent discussion before it was tabled as a legal notice. for crying out loud, we know we have really dumb ineffective elements in the so-called government of national unity but we don't need to be affected by their ineptitude and desolate selfish thoughts. come to think of it, that sounds ironical - we just can't avoid it - we voted them in!

so they bring forth this "thought out" plan to eradicate smoking in public places. first, public places here means wherever people are; buses, matatus, schools, offices, govt buildings, markets, cybers, restrooms, residential etc, i think you get the idea. Virtually EVERYWHERE!!! that's all good with me, as long as i have no one to regulate what i do in between the four confines of my home. then comes the silliest legal loophole since the partial lifting of the ban on ivory trade. they propose that if you're caught smoking cigarettes the fine is Kshs. 50,000 or a jail term of no more than 6 months. now if you're caught smoking weed, the fine is Kshs. 10,000 or a jail term of no more than 3 months. Cute. I think my once hazy decision is now quite clear.

logically, am all for the bid to smoke more weed since its cheaper to ehhhh, and if ur caught anyway, its still cheaper to bail out and if you're unable to pay it, its sentence is lower. Heck, i love this government!! if they continue like this, they'll get re-jected!!! The Ministry of Health should anyway know betta - jamaz are rushing back to herbals and damn, this is The HERB!!!

I think they should be more creative and set up a commission on Weed Reinstatement & Related Affairs. Then they transform some of those useless EPZ's that help no locals to become weed packaging outlets. This should give us a new cash crop and ease overdependence on coffee and tea, and the much needed funds for campaigning next year's elections. Heck, we can even have a Weed Party of Kenya, like today's launch of narc kenya, the "non-tribal" party. that should spice up the political scene kidogo, literally!! Come up with a catchy tagline like "Friends that smoke trees together..... aah, no a friend with Weed is a friend in Deed"!! i'll design the logo and paraphernalia pro bono!! i already have ideas.......

and back to the fines. if i buy a cig for Ksh. 1, and am caught smoking it, where the !$^&#@ do u suppose i'll raise 50,000 to pay the bail? even betta, if that cop is willing to settle "out of court" with me, won't it make a new outlet for bribery. damn, i think they were right talkin' about creating new jobs. 500,000 of them!! They must be seriously smoking something else!!!

Chillin'

loungin' hiatus

Am about to lay back, kick out my nike, wrap myself in kikoi and lounge on my mid-year vacation. Yes that's in May!! The start of my Inspiration Triad - mayjunejuly.

Came up with the above illustration for a baby pillow advert i was doing. so i decided to tweak it abit with some cooln/warm effect, like my favourite months that come with rainy days, chilly nights and all the warmth of triggered inspiration.

//> i'll be chillin' til jun.

Bitter ama Betta?

***
















Realizing that as often as one of these doors closes on me, I have to decide whether to sit down here and be bitter or get up and concentrate on the others that are opening – become betta. I’ve felt the spasm of love lost yet I bask in the hope of a love waiting. I’ve felt the thud of my failures yet I believe if you fall seven times, get up eight. I’ve felt the disappointment of being looked down upon yet I gotta show them juz what am made of.

It’s all so good and easy layin’ the blame on others and finding all the wrong reasons why things turn the wey they do. But step back, take a look at the image on the mirror and learn through it. Be real with yourself – if you ain’t who will?

Leo amua, utakuwa bitter or betta?

C'est La Vie!

Paths crossed, paths parted

After the cutting of the cakes, the goodbye hugs and the farewell cards, reality sinks in.

These past weeks, i've had to say goodbye to five work colleagues, swept by the tide of time to pursue their life's paths. I've realized how much i gained from each one of them and started questioning myself when my path deviates, how it would be like. I guess we all have to accept the reality about life - coz that's how it is. Sometimes we lose people who mean much to us, some never to meet again, and some whose paths and ours will cross once again. In any case, we are left with the footprints of experiences we shared with them - good, bad, ordinary and unusual. To me like i know to many, their worth almost seems to double as soon as they're gone. Soon we realize how important they or what they represented were.

After the cutting of the cakes, the farewell speeches and the empty desks left vacant, reality sank in.

I thought we were going to be together longer. I thought to myself if i left tomorrow, what would i have accomplished? What did i gain from this path? What legacy do i leave behind? Did i add value to the organization, to the people i interacted with? Did i make a difference, however minute, or swam along with the current like dead fish? How this experience has changed or built me? Are these connections worth keeping? Friendships worth cherishing and holding? Have i achieved what i set out to? If not, why not and will i get there? Is it something i can live with going knowing i didn't get there? Will they feel the void when am gone?

Many, many questions arose from the farewells. One answer arose from the questions - Live today as if it was your last day. By doing so, you'll have no regrets, you'll aim to do your very best, you'll try to be at peace with others, and you’ll be at peace with yourself and what you do.

For Aissatou Sow, Norman Shitote, Eliot Pence, Sandra Kidwingira and Guy Berthiaume, I say C'est La Vie and Bon Voyage!

Aissa taught me elegance, power politics, persistence, pressure, creativity, friendship and unflinching boldness.

Norman taught me simplicity, realness, humour, patience, understanding, commitment and openness.

Eliot taught me how to push the envelope, humour, fluency, hard-balling and spontaneity.

Sandra taught me joviality, how to laugh from the heart, kindness, warmth, dedication and daintiness.

Guy taught me strength, self-pride and respect, creativity, articulation, humour, boldness, simplicity and friendship.

Thank you all. Whatever paths you take, wherever life leads you to, I pray that they bring you ever closer to touching your triple beam dreams; and that you know you left footprints along the trails you crossed – one of them being mine.

Signs of the Times

Jana a fisherman in Vanga on the East African coast caught a strange messenger - a tuna with Arabic inscriptions on the side of its belly. I watched the news mouth-agape, almost trying to deny the reality before me. Here was the calligraphic writing in front of the TV and so clear i could easily read it - "Allahu Khairun Razikin", translated "God is the Best Provider".

For my feeble faith, i had notions of it being some sort of trick, maybe someone made them on the fish. But to my artistic amazement (and i've seen enough forgeries), the inscription was embossed and blended with the shades of different colours on the tuna's body. Now that was enuff to make my doubts succumb.

The crowd looked equally awed; and i deeply appreciated the fact that here was a fish with Arabic writings caught in a region where the populace depended on fishing for their providence and sustenance and were Arabic literate. Imagine that.....

"He it is Who shows you His signs and sends down for you sustenance from heaven, and none minds but he who turns to Him again and again." - Quran Chapter 40, verse 13.

Unbloggable

Hii ni fumbo, kwa wenye fahamu...

She tells me her predicament weeping, says she reckons her man's creeping, when he should be zipping, it got her whole world tripping, she can feel the weight heaping, she's confused on the love she has been sipping, wonderin' if she should continue keeping, am dumbfounded near flipping, askin' myself so many questions clipping.

Firstly, i never intend to turn this blogsite into some venting out forum, i view it as a creative outlet, a gallery of thought and a search for tranquility. But since am human, which means i come with all the vulnerability, insecurities and feebleness that our kind possess, sometimes i see or hear stuff that makes me wanna holla! So i keep that roll of questioning going.

How in the world, that same world you grew knowing concern and care, can you explain total lack of caring and zilch concern? How do you start understanding when you have sown all the right seeds and yet harvest lack of understanding? How do you reconcile trust when it's scattered all over with the broken pieces of hopes and convictions that you built over time? Why should you be the one whose always gentle and compassionate? Why should you be the understanding one when shit is always hitting your face? Why should you be the one to go all the way, ignoring all the stop signs, when you know you should meet half-way? Why should you expect the other side of the bargain to be kept instead of demanding it? Why should you flatter yourself things will change for the better when all the signs are blaring hell no, they'll only get worse? Why can't you jump ship even though you are the captain and wade through to better ships? Why should you be the one to make it right when you aint the one who made it wrong in the first place? Why can't you be wrong, aren't you human after all? And human is to err. How many times will you go through the same bridge to realize the water's underneath?

I keep these questions when i see people going thru' stuff they shouldn't. When i go through episodes i shouldn't. And maybe even if they are necessary so that we learn what life's all about, i keep them to balance between my thoughts, my reality and my ideal. Tell me, how do you reach out to someone when they've reached the point of fearing no loss?

Adrenalin

***

There’s only one word to effectively describe this past weekend. That word is Adrenalin. Try a concoction of Torque, Supercross and MI:III. Friday took off with a blast and though it rained cats and dogs, I could feel the distant heat that would characterize my weekend. That is what it was and it was a positive thing ‘coz I needed some jerking up after some dreary days working on nothingness at the office. Sato was a lot more on the edge. It started off like Mulatin’s soulful jazz “My Own Memory”, with the pangs and thrust of highness. Shopped around for some inspiration and I got it in a designer wardrobe that would be able to hold all my earthly possessions – that means a roll of clothes, stacks of endless paper and a thousand or so CDs. It gave me the inspiration to redeco my place.

Went around the wey to see Nur and got him fixated on his raw black Honda superbike. With its almost entire parts lying on the floor, it looked more intimidating and ironically fragile. But after takin’ a spin round tao with it, I confirmed that it was truly nerve-racking but not in the least fragile. The full-thrust roar of its v4 engine translated to the exhaust end is enuff to make you shudder in psyched trepidation. This beast reached 150kph in a blinking 5 seconds and cruises at a top 240kph – that’s when you feel your heart and soul floating outside your body, sailing behind the bike just close enuff to reconnect back when you come to a halt.

When I entered the movie theatre to watch the premier of MI:III, I was still high from the lethal doze of velocity I had had before. But to keep it there, I wanted more action and action extraordinaire I got. MI:III’s storyline is very cliché – bad guys, good guys, one man saves whole world from terrorists holding the deadliest weapon ever known to man, rogue nations, all those fancy agencies shit. But, despite a very poor sequel in terms of story, the execution takes movie makin’ a notch higher, the effects were awesome, unbelievable stunts and technology made believable. The last time I left the cinema still hanging on to the thud of explosions, knowing I was cheated but yet believed, was when I saw XXX.

As if that wasn’t enuff, I got an anticipated email from an ol’school flame and for the entire afternoon, I reminisced on them dayz when I wished silently….and when I cruised at 240kph zooming past all the red stop signs as if they were mirages.

Ghetto Langu

Oldhood revisited



Am cruising along Jogoo road, the vibrantly repainted aged bungalows on either side of the road zooming past in a trail of colour. Am headed deep into Eastlands to meet my couzin then onward to Doni to check Mike. Around the stadium there are stretches of mitumba vendors displaying must-have ndulaz from nike to adidas. Dotted in between the alleys of this market are mei guys busy roasting maize from jan to dec. Kuna watu kibao streaming the whole area like a festival of worker bees; everyone full of activity in their own small world, a world that knows no serenity. Am instantly reminded of ghetto langu becoz these are the same things I see there. Here there’s no fresh air only stench. No roads just potholes, garbage sites and mud filled dirt paths. No lighting just kerosene lamps and candles. No entertainment just bars and more bars. No evening siestas juz the sound of gunshots or dombolo. Here there are no full measures; people are struggling with less than a dollar a day so you’d get a quarter of anything – sugar, flour, oil, omo. I see some people chilling for ma3’s, some guy trading secondhand school uniforms and another staggering most likely from having a glass of cheap, locally brewed, undiluted changa’a. If the Russians knew about this lethal drink, they would have probably mass bottled it instead; for pure vodka would taste like tomato juice in comparison and be twenty times more costly.

The potholes are so gigantic, reputably able to “swallow” an entire city-bus in that brief instant when it goes in and out; once in awhile when el nino revisits, seeing children swimming in them. Everyone is trying to dodge them and just be in time to evade the biggest pile of garbage that you ever dumped anything on. Hii ndio ghetto langu, my old hood, where things never seem to change and where life has a fatalistic aura clenching the entire place.

My ghetto has a jobless corner right at the bus stage where we used to sit all day sharing jokes and stories, letting time pass us by and only break for lunch – if you had anything to eat that is. The stronger jamaz started collecting “road tax” from the ma3’s and soon it was a mafia-reminiscent operation. Next to the jobless corner, there are miraa vendors and can tell the shade from far from the green leaves hang there as advertisement, dangling from the top. This is where the journey to tooth decay and probable sterility begins. Still, people throng the place everyday looking for that chew to distract them from the real issues that starkly face them and never seem to shake off or fade away.

It’s a tough life but yet people still smile in the midst of their struggles. They sleep contented despite the cloud of insecurity hanging over their slumber. They still share despite the little they have. Still, nyumbani ni nyumbani, so every once in awhile I’d head back there and get reminded where I came from, what I’ve been through and what life’s real treasures are. Something nimefunzwa kutoka ghetto langu.

+1

**

Turning over another year in the journey of my life feels thrilling. Today, I add one more year to the cauldron that defines my experiences and therefore, me. It’s a moment that I fervently anticipate as I add more spice to the blend of Lenjo Maza Asad and hoping it spins forth a betta person; were we not created to become betta and betta?

Turning over another year in the journey of my life feels rousing. As I close the year gone, I pray this path I’m on leads to new zeniths of affection and achievement. Praying that its alleyways feed me with inner peace and outward connect. That its splints ignite my ambition to get full-blown like nitro, saying the hustlaz’ prayer “if the game shakes me or breaks me, I hope it makes me a betta man..”. Being grateful for this year added to my life, I’d walk away from troubles so that I can reach new heights of self-actualization. Am redefining myself and my associations, social and not. Am repainting my world portrait to synchronize with the hues of what matters most to me. Am reaching out to betta understand the messages of this voyage and taking these lessons to heart, reflecting on their depths, acting on their meanings. Am walking whilst appreciating the facets of moments that I meet in my trail.

Turning over another year in the journey of my life feels inspiring. Today I taste that momentous tang of inspiration compared to last year that left me bruised, hurt and vengeful. Today I’ve come full circle to be thankful for what it taught me, confirming my fears of things I needed to learn; made my brownskin a lot thicker, my comprehension much clearer. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of yesteryear, I’ll remember well these lessons as I reach out to touch the silver lining of my skies. Until am free, am gonna keep it as realest as it gets.

The best message I’ve received today is from my cousin Miriam, she says “Happy
Birthday Junior, may you live 2 be black!!”

__________________

Congrats to Kasakwa for graduating from the Bachelor’s Club. Praying for the two of you that it’s blissful, harmonious and ever-blazing!!

Princess Encounter

***

The end of an era dawned on me yesterday. It felt like one of those life-long journeys splitting again to different paths; but one that i was to inevitably accept as it was time. It was my manager's last day at work and although it wasn't all marshy, the times we had made it some sweetpain. Me and her had gone through some memorable times together; at times she pushed the envelope on my limits and skills and i appreciate it now that i look back at it. She had a princely way of getting things done and as a true Fulani Princess, she was bold, energetic, enigmatic and freshly jovial.

Many were the times she entered the office and it brightened the day. Many were the times she entered the office and it put all the pressure on me. Although they were times we didn't see eye to eye, for the most part of our journey together, it was all so good. We synchronised and flowed with whatever we were doing and i appreciate this blessing 'coz i know not many people get bosses like that.

Aissa was one person who i could not call boss. It was unreal, unnatural. Indeed you could feel the power and authority she possessed but she came down from that pedestal to our level, whatever it was. She had a way of carrying herself with flowing boldness that did not overshadow her playful and easy nature. And that put her a class above the rest (i totally abhorr people who demand that u bow down just because they have title larger than life). Any outsider would be forgiven thinking that she was anything but the Manager. Here was someone i could walk in and out of her office like i was going to the kitchen for coffee. Free, open and receptive.

Aissa, you're someone incredible and one i definitely treasure and greatly miss. Whatever paths that life takes you through, may they be littered with the sweet music of warmth, love, affection and gigantic achievements. And may the Almighty bring you ever closer to your dreams.

FlossMode

Judging by the covers

More and more of us are getting sucked into life’s drudgery and mad rush. More of us are getting the cream so that we engage others in a nonsensical opulence show. They say people who watch TV are 40% more likely pressured to acquire things that they view in adverts, sitcoms etc., so I gathered I’d be betta off watching nature and people instead; it reveals so much more. Here I am, never understood what people who floss gain out of doing so, I’d be glad if someone walked me through it. I understand if I was to help someone in need, they’d have reason to hold on to that and my heart gets contented. I understand if I was there for people I care about, they’d be there for me; that’ll strengthen our bond which is a worthwhile thing. I understand if I treat myself to some out-of-this-world Turkish delights, I’d feel ecstatic and maybe gain some few needed pounds. Now what I don’t get is how flossing to people who have never seen me and those few who know me will enhance my life in any bit. Coz they’d definitely forget it, some wouldn’t really care and worse, some will abhor me for it. I’ve thought maybe there is some gratification derived from it (the buggy-jumping kind) but that “high” is so short-lived to warrant the lengths people go through to have it. I call it the “10-seconds-of-Fame”. I understand you can live very comfortably with life’s luxuries and designer items without having to wantonly and overtly exhibiting it. So why do people do it???

Again, I guess if I was the very-ignorant-have-nothin’-betta-to-do kind, I’d be jotting this blog from an iPAQ hw6900 in open air at Java sipping on the most expensive cappuccino they have. I’d be holding it up so that the others around me get to see it. Did I mention I’ll have the new Motorola V3 Razr mobile phone along with the day’s London Financial Times of course all sprawled on the coffee table along with the keys to the LR3? Although it would cost me some spare change for the coffee, I’d pay using my VISA Goldcard, perhaps the Prestige Barclaycard and quit it just after a few sips, walk into the LR3, take time to close the doors so that people absorb it’s white leather seats and space-age looking interior (mind you like the one I have at home) and switch on the Pioneer entertainment centre. I’ll turn the volume to like 75 so the outsidaz recognize I had the sound installed for them. Forget about my ears, this is the price am willing to pay to make someone who hardly knows me turn for a measly 2 seconds and look. Even if they know me, I highly doubt they’re aspiring to become deaf themselves. I’d make sure every place I pass lingered with the scent of Givenchy Pi lingering on for minutes after I’ve gone. Those who seem a bit interested to know what that heavenly scent is, I’d quip its price, not its name. I’d let my real-conflict-diamond-studded Cartier Roadstar Chronograph dangle on my wrist. Forget about the weight and the number of people who died to have it on me, this is the price of bling-blinging. I’ll excuse anyone who thought I bought it for the time. The price is just under $9,000, quite reasonable for a watch, wouldn’t you say?

Thinking about this reminds me of the story about a guy who dressed up on all the expensive and trendiest apparel yet was content to go hungry at home. Talk about twisted priorities! I think floss is such a gross loss, have to toss it. Keeping it simple and stupid seems much closer to the reality of my kinda things.

Eight Cow Wife

A Parable by Patricia McGerr

When I sailed to Kiniwata, an island in the Pacific, I took along a notebook. After I got back it was filled with descriptions of flora and fauna, native customs and costume. But the only note that still interests me is the one that says: "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows to Sarita’s father." And I don’t need to have it in writing. I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittling her husband or a wife withering under her husband’s scorn. I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for his wife." Johnny Lingo wasn’t exactly his name. But that’s what Shenkin, the manager of the guest house on Kiniwata, called him. Shenkin was from Chicago and had a habit of Americanizing the names of the islanders. But Johnny was mentioned by many people in many connections. If I wanted to spend a few days on the neighboring island of Nurabandi, Johnny Lingo would put me up. If I wanted to fish he could show me where the biting was best. If it was pearls I sought, he would bring the best buys. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet when they spoke they smiled, and the smiles were slightly mocking. "Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin. "Johnny knows how to make a deal." "Johnny Lingo! A boy seated nearby hooted the name and rocked with laughter. "What goes on?" I demanded. "everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then breaks up. Let me in on the joke." "Oh, the people like to laugh," Shenkin said, shruggingly. "Johnny's the brightest, the strongest young man in the islands, And for his age, the richest." "But if he’s all you say, what is there to laugh about?" "Only one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He paid her father eight cows! I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. Two or three cows would buy a fair-to-middling wife, four or five a highly satisfactory one. "Good Lord!" I said, "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away." "She’s not ugly," he conceded, and smiled a little. "But the kindest could only call Sarita plain. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid she’d be left on his hands." "But then he got eight cows for her? Isn’t that extraordinary?" "Never been paid before." "Yet you call Johnny’s wife plain?" "I said it would be kindness to call her plain. She was skinny. She walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow." "Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love." "True enough," agreed the man. "And that’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact that the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo." "But how?" "No one knows and everyone wonders. All the cousins were urging Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny’d pay only one. Then Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’" "Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo." "And I wanted fish. I wanted pearls. So the next afternoon I beached my boat at Nurabandi.
And I noticed as I asked directions to Johnny’s house that his name brought no sly smile to the lips of his fellow Nurabandians. And when I met the slim, serious young man, when he welcomed me with grace to his home, I was glad that from his own people he had respect unmingled with mockery. We sat in his house and talked. Then he asked, "You come here from Kiniwata?" "Yes." "They speak of me on that island?" "They say there’s nothing I might want they you can’t help me get." He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata." "Yes, I know." "They speak of her?" "A little." "What do they say?" "Why, just..." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time." "Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more. They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused. "They wonder why." "They ask that?" His eyes lightened with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?" I nodded. "And in Nurabandi everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita." So that’s the answer, I thought: vanity. And then I saw her. I watched her enter the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still a moment to smile at the young man beside me. Then she went swiftly out again. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin the sparkle of her eyes all spelled a pride to which no one could deny her the right. I turned back to Johnny Lingo and found him looking at me. "You admire her?" he murmured. "She...she’s glorious. But she’s not Sarita from Kiniwata," I said. "There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps she does not look the way they say she looked in Kiniwata." "She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo." "You think eight cows were too many?" A smile slid over his lips. "No. But how can she be so different?" "Do you ever think," he asked, "what it must mean to a woman to know that her husband has settled on the lowest price for which she can be bought? And then later, when the women talk, they boast of what their husbands paid for them. One says four cows, another maybe six. How does she feel, the woman who was sold for one or two?" This could not happen to my Sarita." "Then you did this just to make your wife happy?" "I wanted Sarita to be happy, yes. But I wanted more than that. You say she is different This is true. Many things can change a woman. Things that happen inside, things that happen outside. But the thing that matters most is what she thinks about herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. Now she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands."
"Then you wanted -" "I wanted to marry Sarita. I loved her and no other woman." "But —" I was close to understanding. "But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

Desidarata, the Past & Now

A long wey coming and still rollin'!

Thanks to tati, jana I stumbled upon graduates.com and as I perused over lines and miles of names, checking out familiar peeps I know from primary, high school, colle and uni, it dawned on me juz how much of life happened to us! Scores of them are abroad working, studying, doing their thing, living it up, some came back home to roost while others never left but they still done great. Going through the summaries of what everyone has been up to in the last 10 or so years made me proud, envious, encouraged, amused and impressed. My hustling-days right-hand guy Chris is up in Netherlands doing his studies & reggae thing. My boy Sassen went on to become a biochemist (finally your chem skills at work!), Ivan got two kids (imagine that), Laura’s in the UK (kept wondering where you dropped off the face of this solar system) and so ran the script on and on. The myriad of feelings I got while browsing these patches of my past reminded me of Max Ehrmann’s poem “Desidarata”. It used to hang on my uncle’s wall when I was growing up so I systematically memorized it. A little reflection and I think I internalized a lot out of it to live up to its very character. Part of the poem went thus:

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

I took the better part to mean if you compared yourself with others, they’ll always be someone better than you, so aim higher! And if that someone is worse off than you, be grateful. So here I was reading about people I hardly ever saw again after our last exam papers. Leonid, my primo buddy – that foto of urs and Ebal took me wey back!!! How life drifted us on such diverse paths am still trying to comprehend. Lilian, would you believe it, Lilian Geturo? Tati, I know why you’re missing in action. Louise Massawa, the Capo de capo of geniuses. All in all, I must say, this was one marvelous trip down memory lane. Am glad for those who are living their dreams. Am glad for those building their dreams. Am glad for those drafting their dreams. Am glad for those dreaming about their dreams. 2Pac said “Reality is wrong, dreams are for real”.

Am still scouring these webpages trying to reconnect with memories; there’s a certain high you get when you see the face of someone you haven’t seen in years albeit juz a mention of their name. Am busy reconstructing our classrooms in my mind, asking myself whatever happened to so and so; where on planet earth could they be holed up? What are they up to and howz lyf fairing wit them? Something I must admit though, what graduates.com does is something worthwhile. If I was to give bouquets for best functional website, all props go to them! Simple idea, very energetic effect.

For me, these 10yrs have seemed eternal. I’ve done Thangs!!! Been there, done that! Played the minor league, got bored, went on to the Major League, got it all played out. Now frantically searching for the next high…. I think marriage comes close! I remember we used to joke what it would be lyk 10yrs from then. It is past 10yrs already, look at all the @#$%^&! we’ve been through and we still facing the skies saying “It’s alright, praise God we are here!!” Lookin’ at the next ten am thinking, damn, funny how time flies, the key is being grateful for every bit of it, at that time. And God granting, am Keepin’ My Head Up for the next 10, 20, 30 mmmmmmmh …….!

Alpenglow

Inspired by Amina Darani

Alpenglow is an optical phenomenon. The name is derived from the German word "Alpenglühen" combing "alps" and "glow". When the Sun sets in the west, a horizontal red glowing band can sometimes be observed in the east. In mountainous areas such as the Alps, this can be caused by snow, moisture, and ice on mountain sides which receive the scattered red light from the setting Sun. Sometimes this rosy effect is observed in other non-mountainous areas. Once in a whilem i've seen it coming from Mombasa on the Kenyan coast and it's a sight worthy of visualising. I've done 2 graphic pieces on it - juz couldn't help myself.


Since i've juz come from taita hills, i think i'll coin a new word for the glow that comes from those majestic hills..........

mazalicias!

Some gem at the coast


Blogging from Mombasa feels differently nice. There's the heavy sting of salty ocean water all around me, the breeze caressing my face and the hot, hot sun kissing my skin. It's nothing like the coldness of nairobi..... and its inhabitants. Mombasa is warm, jovial, lively, human, exotic. It's a place that a stranger easily feels at home. At least i do whenever i come. But this time round, i not only caught the sun, the fun, the sand and the surf. I caught me a rare splendid foto opp. Alicia Keys!!

Yes, she's in mombasa for her project she's doing for children struggling with Aids. And so being a proper die-hard fan(atic), my digicam was ready, my smile as always ever-ready and she was game for the shoot. CO, don't you wish u could have tagged along?! Am going to find this picture some golden artistic frame and hang it right in front of my home's entrance!! Talk about celeb status... You betta blv it HA and SS, she even gave me something else i can't put online!!

Apart from this really rare treat which left me not wanting to ever get back to nai (which happens every time am here), i get to sit in front of this endless sparkling blue ocean watching birds (sic) and the waves rising and falling. I amusingly study people strutting up and down the shore, littered with .......... aaah, many things. The beach football is amazing and the sip of tamarind juice feels blissful.

Ok, the giantiest of waves is coming, gotta catch it. Laterzzz!!!

Wanna Ride?

Mamis & Cars

There must be something inherent in women about cars. i think just like some men are overly protective of their rides, mamis are attracted to mobility. i have no idea why. Initial thoughts are it provides freedom, easens hustling around, is viewed to be somewhat safe and not to mention social status. My buddy Guy had a thing against stratified societies - to him (and i partly agree), this is just an illusion. Some opium for the masses to entice them. That's the same way i view this "thing" about mamis with cars. i doubt if its a peculiar thing in kenya only or elsewhere. Here mo and mo chicks value guys simply coz they have rides. Forget about the S320 Mercs, the Z3 BMW or the supped up Bentleys, just park your beat-down beetle across their way and you got game! And there's no shame, even though your lyrics may be so so lame. Whatever happened to falling in love with a jamaa with a KBS bus-pass???

Was trying to think what motivates some ladies to hang out taking endless rounds in ma3's, kukatiwa na the prospect of "free" rides. What possibly could blind them to the fact that the ride isn't after all "free". Some things confound me; i've found no lady to explain this ride's attraction to me. I guess some do it for the music..... like they have no tenjes at home. Some apparently do it to be seen to be "with-it" so they'd go for the bling-blinging manyangaz that juz came out. I simply do it for the art and grafitti in them - it's amazing things u can read (and learn) from stickers on a trip from eastleigh to tao.

In my rumblings and after watching 2 Fast, 2 Furious, XXX, XXX2 and of coz The Love Bug (Herbie), i've safely concluded the biggest motivation is speed. Hot, raw adrenalin. Jijazie the rest.........

Creative Expression

For the skeptics and the far-right-realists!!

Ok, so i write a story like "Dream come true" and some people believe it happened to me. Just a clarification for buddies like Mr. Softcity, it did not happen to me. True, am not about to deny that i've never been whipped in "love", but that doesn't necessarily mean every thought, every graphic i output is a result of that. I take my hue from very many different (some somewhat crazy) influences. So there you have it - don't believe everything i say.

It's something called creative expression, you know kinda like the ones Dan Brown does and he make millions out of. In English it's called Fiction.

TGIF2

Thank God it's Friday!


Dear Almighty God, it's me again. All praise is due to you, the Grand Designer; whose words would never end even if all the Earth's oceans were ink, and all its trees were pens to write Your words with.

Today am thankful to you for the rain, washes away our woes, our tears, cleansing us in more ways than we realise. Thanks for sending it now, it couldn't have come at a better time. Even though i'll get rained on, be wet and cold, i'll prefer the thought of this blessing instead of grumbling. Thanks.

Your ever grateful servant, Maza.

Little Things Revisited

A walk while its drizzling, the tick and tock of the clock adding days to your age, the dew on a rose petal, the nostalgic odor of earth before it rains, the piercing stare of a baby’s eyes almost probing you, taking’ time to ask someone you care about to share with you their world, thoughts, feelings, happenings, troubles, being patient with grandma when she goes on and on about the same topic, taking’ an evening breather in fresh air, star-gazing once in awhile winking to the moon, watching’ falling stars, falling leaves effortlessly floating to the ground, the clenching of your finger by a baby’s entire hand, accepting you’re wrong when you are, accepting others when they are wrong, gladly making lemonade when God gives you lemon, taking sips of the pure wine life pours, not minding you’ve been served in a dirty cup (Rumi), arranging whatever pieces come your way (Virginia Woolf), loving the hue of skin of different people you come across, sit in the dark light a candle and marvel at its dancing flame, keep aflame the inner candle in you to light your way when times get thick, sharing that light with others who need it, listening to birds singing in the middle of traffic noise, loving 100% for there’s no regret than that of not to have loved completely, telling the person you love that you do, and how much, in case tomorrow never comes, they’d know how you felt, relishing roasted maize-cob on your way home, walking the ocean shore picking butterfly seashells, leaving behind random thoughts on your blog, give from the heart regardless of whom you give it to, extend your hand to someone show them you understand, be excited about other’s passions, dreams and endeavors, listen even if you don’t say anything, say hi with a smile, smile when you pick up the phone.

Little things mean a lot, appreciate what you have (boyz II men).

We're On Fire

The fire dwindles sometimes, we have to rekindle it, fight for it if it’s truly worth it. That’s what I once told someone i cared about; the passion of something fades and the intensity falls. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be like that for good, it’s a season. A season that will pass and we’ll be on fire again, relit and as bright as ever. Like a wavy ocean, life isn't always smooth. Neither is it a bed of roses. Life is dialectic, if you wanna live life like it ain't, you're in for a rude shock - no pun intended. They'll be ups and downs, highs and lows. When am down, i'll let the memories of when i was high carry me through. When am up, i'll let reminders of what it is to be low regulate me. I once saw a disadvantaged man crawling on his knees because he could not walk and I questioned myself what if I was that man. That image of him, down there, hustling, while I was up, all ok, will not leave my ken. We got a lot to be thankful for but I guess we fall short in seeing the blessings we get. For me, love fades so that we can replenish it. The earth dies so that the rain may restore it to life. Hope passes away so that we may discover our inner callings. The fire diminishes so that we have a chance to refuel it.

We’re On Fire

Rise from the ashes of yore
Raise the phoenix within you, bring it to the fore
Ignite our dreams and aspirations
To burst aflame our innermost visions
Another year in a new dawned day
Something intrinsic tells me to profoundly pray
Give thanks for a chance to embrace this day

Fuel the appreciation of life’s essential gifts
Feel the elevation that such realization lifts
Search for that vocation that is yours and is definite
And let these dreams and aspirations ignite
For new days call for new ways
Against the mighty waves that make your soul sway
Grab and flare a supernova from this single ray

We’re on fire today
Like the strength of our forefather’s flints yesterday
Fierce against wind and darkness
Lightning the ways of our days.

w. 3.01.06
Copyright 2006 Under the Baobab collection

Another Dream Come True

if you continue dreaming about it hard enuff, it'll happen. Again.


I had been here before. The entire place looked familiar, even somewhat nostalgic. I almost knew where every little thing was. The fireplace glowed with an orange flair, the wood splintering sparks over the iron wrought edge. It was inviting, a sharp contrast to the heavy rain that was falling outside. “Mr. Too Damn Good” by Levert was playing on the background. It used to be my anthem to her. I walked over to the fireplace and stretched out my cold hands to get some warmth. As my vision blended with the fiery centre of the red hot wood my thoughts drifted to the last time I saw her.

We had had our fair share of relationship dramas together and just when I thought we had overcome the storm, she opted for an exit. Out of the blue just like she disappeared, she resurfaced two weeks ago and called me asking if we could have a chance to meet. Her voice across the phone line still lingered on my mind; “I need to see you, we need to talk.” After the call, my heart anticipated so much, I could hardly wait for our meet.

Now I was here, finally about to reconcile with her. I could feel the anxiety pulsate in me, so I tried to take long slow breaths remembering my Dojo Kun lessons. The third pillar of this martial art was to foster an endeavoring spirit, something that you had to perfect before you had a go at the other four pillars. My sight caught her framed picture as an innocent little girl which was rather disparate from the fact that she had taken me through hell and back. I was about to reach and take a close look when she entered the room.

Time stood still. I could swear it felt like the first time I saw her. She wore a white flamenco dress that flowed elegantly with her dainty steps, the pink and orange kikoi draped round her neck bringing out the grace of her face. She had not changed much over almost the one year since I saw her last; in fact she looked more beautiful now. Deep down my anxiety dropped, replaced by a burning hope of getting her back. To call her mine, to forget the past, tugange yajayo, finally. She walked up to me and we exchanged a hug that I sought to last forever. It felt like it was all worth it after all, the wait, the agony, the disappointments. In that short moment, all these disappeared. It was a new beginning.

We sat next to the fireplace, drinking from the same mugs branded “coffee” that she said she bought because they reminded her of me. She had that silent disposition in her that I fretted. I fretted it because she always had this calm before she brought on the storm. This time, I brushed it off knowing she needed to recollect after so long a period. As she began speaking, her voice was flawless and eloquent.

She begged I forgive her for taking off without letting me know. Said she was confused and that was the only option that she saw back then. Said how hard it was for her to forget about me, about us and what we shared. Her words were music to my ears, comfort to my soul. She said “All that time we were apart, I knew I still loved you and nothing I did could shake it off. I promised myself that I had to get back with you and try to make it work. Deep in me I knew we could achieve it if we both changed for the better those things we disagreed on”. By now, I was in full agreement with her, she could tell so by the nodding of my head as I keenly listened to her. I could have interjected to tell her that I felt the same but I didn’t. Knowing her, I preferred to let her finish her trail of thoughts. I listened coz in all my dreams since we separated, I knew if it came to this day, I’d rather listen than talk. I listened coz the joy I got from her narration couldn’t compare to that I could get from mine.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here with you, just like the old times. Anyway, I battled with my feelings for you for long and finally made a decision and that's what i called you for. I know it’s not going to be easy for you but there’ll be a lot of changes. I have faith we’ll both go through this. Am sorry I put you through a lot but this time I wanted to let you know myself, not you to hear it from elsewhere, I didn’t want it to happen any other way”. Every syllable that I heard was laced with love, concern and affirmation. This dream I had replayed over and over gain was coming to reality. I could feel a tear building up and although they say a man ain’t supposed to cry, I really didn’t care. I had waited too long for this so it was worth me crying for.

Then she brought forward the square cream envelope that she had kept beside her all through the conversation. It was pretty with a golden flowery border round it. My anticipation shot up trying to guess what she had in that envelope. An apology card, a love card, maybe a letter explaining everything?

She held it in her hand for a few seconds gazing intently at it as if wondering whether to give it or not. To reduce my anxiety, I took sips of the now nearly cold coffee, the irony of it driven home as I drank it; the coffee would actually aggravate the anxiety than calm it.

Then with finality in her eyes, she handed it over to me saying, “Well, here we go then, that’s my wedding card – I am getting married!”. The coffee mug slipped out of my hands, knocked the majestic glass table on its way down cracking it from end to end, then with a near deafening thud, hit the ceramic floor coming apart in endless shattered pieces. My heart did the same.

Visual Appetite

“Vision is the art of seeing things invisible.” – Jonathan Swift, 1667-1745


Auguste Rodin once said “To any artist, worthy of the name, all in nature is beautiful, because his eyes, fearlessly accepting all exterior truth, read there, as in an open book, all the inner truth." And that inner truth is the Artistry of the Almighty. He is no doubt the Grand Designer and Fashioner. That when you feast your inner vision on the elements and puzzles of nature, you'll be in awe as you unwrap God's magical touch in everything He's created. This in my humble opinion is the reason Ralph Waldo Emerson - poet and writer extraordinaire - quipped "The eyes indicate the antiquity of the soul".

The soul is our door to the other side. We may not be spiritual at all to believe in the “other side” but when you entertain your visual appetite to explore nature, we begin stumbling across numerous clues on the existence of a far superior being than ourselves. We begin to discover the inadequacy of our civilizations, our thoughts, our systems and our technology. These become in visual terms, a muddled pile hurled against the Clarity. Its thoughts like this that still amaze me about atheists scientists – for me, the more you delve into science, the more affirmation you get of the existence of God.

When we learn to observe and absorb the visual metaphors that we see around us and digest them into meanings, then we achieve visual literacy. Like linguistic or mental literacy, being visually literate is important for the appreciation of aesthetic and intrinsic values of things we see. We better comprehend our environment; blend in with its mysteries, radiantly flowing with its energy, its being.

Satisfying our visual appetite brings us to a new level of intellectual capacity. We retain and recall things better through visual memory triggers, we learn to think vividly so we organize our thoughts better and learn to use those parts of our brains that are dormant (sometimes very dormant) and in a way critically enhance our other senses. Picture this – what triggers desire? Is it not visual stimulation? You suddenly feel that craving for that creamy caramel-topped with dark chocolate shavings and toasted walnuts blissful dessert when you “see” it in your mind (…BigBraza), yet when your mind pictures you hustling over those 25kg weights at the gym, that craving is instantly reduced to sauna steam. When you miss someone, it’s their vision that elicits that feeling and so on. That’s why visual communication is such a huge thing in marketing today. To get effective responses from a specific target audience, you have to craft a campaign that demographically matches them. Then convert that to imagery. Don’t worry we’ll soon deviate to branding, my cup of tea…….

Today, I’ll satisfy my visual appetite by looking at things I normally don’t, in a deeper, more observant way. Then try to understand them, on the surface and within. Maybe even juggle my thoughts trying to get inspiration from them to enhance other spheres of my life. That’s why I use food coloring as dye!

Just Coffee, I Insist!

What's the definition of courtesy? I mean, is it one of those things that are subjective and left to one's interpretation or it's something that is generally expected of everyone, regardless of where you come from. We may not be very forthcoming in matters that are embarrassing to us, but we sure learn a $%^#& load from them! So an incident happens in a really fancy restaurant. Two jamaz are hooking up for a business deal. The first guy arrives early and meets some ladies he knows. Being one of those extinct gentlemen, he invites them for "coffee", expressly telling them just that - coffee. Espresso, Latte, Macchiato, Iced, Blended, Decaf. You interpret whichever way you like just as long as it’s within the confines of the word "coffee".

They gather next to him like a pack of vultures on an abandoned carcass but little does he realize this. They order the most exotic unpronounceable items on the menu. He frets that maybe they didn't hear him say 'coffee'. But still, he doesn't react, hoping that at the end they’d be ladies enuff to pay for the extras. At this point, i could have voted him into the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, because if i was the one, i'd have clearly made the situation black and white by clarifying who's paying for what. Still, the food comes, oh, plus the beverages. They have so much; they have enough for take away!

He looks at the bill and although they are outside on the open air, he feels like he's locked inside a raging oven. They clearly have no intention of chipping in. He doesn’t have enough to pay the bill......... but that's a different story.

So where do we draw the line on courtesy when it comes to offers? And even then, how far are we to accept someone’s courtesy without losing ours?

Dream Come True

if you dream it hard enuff, it'll happen.


It was dark, as dark as pitch black could get. But there was the warm tone of her sleepy voice seeping through the darkness like skylight across a hidden cave. She was talking about us, about our past. Then she began on our future that wasn’t going to be. Slowly across the miles over the phone line, the stab struck me. I could have let the cell phone fall like this love was falling, I could have cut her short and tried telling her it would all work out, trying to reverse an inevitable event. But I didn’t.

I listened to her because I had long learnt that the best of virtues is listening. I listened to her because through the times we spent with her, I had come to learn that this day would surely come. I listened to her as she slowly demolished every brick of every dream I had built over time and yet understood that it was something she had to do. I felt every stab deeper, the darkness overcoming my world like a curtain falling on an ant on stage.

She gave me all the reasons she should leave and I kept telling my heart things will get better. All our moments together were now flashbacking in between her piercing words. My feeble mind could not reconcile how we could have been so perfect for each other and have such great times together yet now be on the verge of our love’s death.

She said she was sorry but by now none of all my faculties could comprehend nor process the meaning of that word. I was floating in a swoon and could hardly make up her conversation at the other end of the line. My heart pleaded with my mind to let my eyes weep but my mind was obstinate to the idea. It argued that we had crossed this situation many times before and all those times, we came out alright. I could feel the tug of war between them all over my body.

All the responses I gave her were like a script I was forced to perform. The voices in my mind had become so loud I was between madness and death. So this is how it feels knowing you cannot go on. Then I felt a crack in my heart and the sharpness of its pain stung my every nerve. This triggered my emotion store to release a tear and as it dropped rolling down my cheek, I tried so hard not to let her hear my sob. Another crack in the heart was more shrilling than the first. I could feel it extending fast to the centre. I held my chest with my right hand in a frantic gesture to stop the onslaught but then came another fracture. I shot up from my bed sweating, heart aching and tears falling. I groped in the dark to stop the phone alarm that had just rudely woken me up and was still blaring in my ears. I gasped for a few, thinking about this nightmare I just had. As I caught my breath, I slowly reclined back to sleep, casually throwing my hand over the side of the bed. That’s when the cold reality dawned on me. She was gone.

Marriage Vacancy

so now that am aiming to hook someone, i may as well start this "Project Wifey" with a recruitment advert.

The ideal and successful candidate should be between the ages of 24 and 42 years, be intellectually stimulating, warm but not overly social, open-minded, a go-getter, proud of her heritage, her womanhood and her life.

She should possess excellent communication skills (both verbal and non-verbal), a likeable demeanor as much as daintiness, carry herself with dignity and respect while still being approachable and appreciate not only the finer but also the little things in life.

Other qualifications include: A playful disposition, appreciation of art, design and poetry while versatile in her own being, flexible in character and thought and naturally generous.

She should be willing to accept this offer within the next 277 days and more willing to be stepping for a lifetime.

Minimum Criteria: LOVE will not be evaluated because it's both OVERATED and SUBJECTIVE, instead, the following qualities are a MUST and PARAMOUNT for all the candidates. Disqualify yourself if you do not possess ONE or ALL of these:
Trust, Concern, Understanding, Dedication, Patience, Communication, Spiritual, Fun, Bold and Decisive.

Languages: All the Romantic languages although not a must, affinity to learn both Arabic and Sheng will be an added advantage.
Renumeration: Hooked 4 life, need i say more?
Probation: 3 months, full occupancy within 9 months
Deadline: 12:00pm GMT +3hrs, 2nd May 2006. Potential candidates will be notified verbally, no unsolicited emails please.

Now that am over with this advert, i look back and am amazed how one person can be created and possess so many nice qualities. Isn't God Great?

The Question of Hitchin'

I got my mind made up! I want to get hitched!


Marriage. Just the sound of the word itself elicits some very interesting responses. I find it a whimsical topic. In the sense that you have myriads of drama around the subject and nearly everyone you ask has a unique opinion about it. Every time its popped up as a personal question directed at me, i smile, inhale and face it headlong. That's because if there was anything am so clear about then it must be my stand on marriage.

I think its quite ironic that in our contemporary informed world, we fear the prospect of marital (or martial if you're one of those) life more than the prospect of meeting the parents! In our old folks' times, that was the Big Deal! We now fear that "maybe" it won't work. With so many divorces (and maybe too many unreal episodes of Divorce Court), we have come to be "conditioned" its more likely to fail than succeed.

When i woke up January 1st, 2006, i had a sensational feeling that this is the year i want to get hook'd up 4 life. Initially i brushed it aside as a passing cloud, but it came back in Feb and it still lingers on. Now it's sunk in. The people i've told this react with "Why?", "How?", "Why now?", some even "What for?". Hilarious as they all sound, i give only a simple response. There's time for everything, everyone has their time and my time is now.

I think they are even more flabbergasted by the fact that i have no one in particular in my life that i would be taking this step with. But the journey of a thousand miles starts with that single step, au sio? Someone said "to discover new oceans, you have to be willing to lose sight of the shore" and so the feeling that am onto a good thing is firmly engrained in me.

So remains the question of how am going to accomplish this almost daunting task. Tricky, tricky.... Lets just say as of today, i have 279 days, 12hrs to crown the milestone. I'll work on it like a Microsoft Project. Main task, sub-tasks, timeline, resources, deadlines and milestones. Then InshAllah, see how it goes. For purposes of motivation, i'll call it "PROJECT WIFEY". If i make it or don't (i highly doubt i won't), then in either case i'd have taken the bolder step of gettin' closer to graduatin' kutoka kwa this ludicrous stage we call Udesert. I'll join the illustrious league of many friends i know, Nurein being the latest, Mr. Softcity, Wagaa, Fahim, Abbuking, Mike, Nyokaz, Mbachaz, Kigunda, Getty, Kago, Ibrakki, Peter, Karue, Johnny, Ali and the list goes on and on! Now, am gathering if all these people decided the plunge was good for them, damn, there must be something great in there! So sub-task No. 1 - The Marriage Vacancy Advert. Coming Soon - like tomorrow!

Little Things Mean Alot

........

If i had to choose between my life with all its intrigues and indeliberate dramas and the lives of some of the people i know, i'd certainly not blink twice on retaining mine. Even through hazy days when i feel i cannot go another day, i still find time to appreciate little things. Times i reach rock bottom and feel like tearing but my pride won't let me; so i turn to things that still remind me am human after all. I try to wonder what can make me a better person. Initial thoughts, will blog more on this.

Pixel Love

Today's Agenda .........


I was inspired to do “Pixel love” by Ray McCarty's "San Antonio Rose". Along the way, i came across lyrics to a song with the same title as McCarty’s piece and it flowed with the image I had. “Deep within my heart lies a melody, a song of old San Antone, where in dreams I live with a memory...."

I simply loved this part "....Lips so sweet and tender, like petals falling apart...."

Rahma, this is for you. Something about the dainty lady-like gaze-away, the scarlet flower, the hair-flow and the cowboy hat remind me of you. The bandana you used to spot, the glitter in your eyes, the formidable feminine strength and the artist in you. My Gangsta Gal, I used to say.

The star in this image represents rarity. A one-in-a-million-kinda-thing. This is both true ‘coz not only is it the first full piece in a trend towards digital illustration for me but also represents someone whose star and mine were as much compliments as they were sometimes opposites.

And so there we were, two artists fated to share time, hard to balance our temperaments and in love. In love with what each of us were, in love with art, with nature, with music, with the promises the future held and in love with our fateful meet.

Then as fate would have it, our paths split and like India.Arie, we gracefully accepted it because there’s a blessing in every lesson.

Kujianika!!

So leo nimeamua kujianika, meaning i've decided ku hang ma wax za mine hapa. What i will be doing is put up some of my digital work for display so mnaweza kuzicritic, kucomment, kucompliment etc. With this said, let me unveil the first of these. i call it "Kujianika", the swahili word for "hanging oneself". In literal sense it represents the hanging of my visual thoughts/process/solutions. Click on the image to enlarge it.

Letting Go - The Y-Curve

The dilemma of getting to a closure in anything is a hard one. In personal terms, sometimes i'd rely on my inner strength to carry me forward, built over time by the experiences i've had and the prospect of brighter days to come. Yet, inner strength sometimes fails me.

Today i discovered the Y-curve. This is a change model that represents feelings related to change due to loss of a relationship, death, job etc. The first stage is where people learn that they have to change and sometimes this pushes people into a downward spiral. During this stage, you better let a person express their feelings of anger, denial, depression, frustration and not "butter" them with "things will be alright".

After this, a person unlearns by discarding things that are no longer of use and this is the disposal stage. We shift to a new place, our emotional memories still left in us but with renewed associations, others faded or suppressed. Unless we learn to adapt and come into terms with our past, it’ll be difficult to embrace our future. Bob Marley said “In this great future, you can’t forget your past”.

The last stage is the Looking Forward stage. Here we start the journey of discovering new ways of being, new relationships and treading new oceans. It is a discovery stage where we let go of our past and move forward.

The Y-curve represents the stages people follow as they go through change. In it, I’ve gazed at myself and am much clearer on where I am. In it, I’ve come to openly embrace changes in my life without resisting them.

inspired from The Seven Cs of Consulting , Second Edition, Cope. M (2003)

Above the Rim

If you haven't watched the movie "Above the Rim", you betta!


Today morning i reminisced about 1999. At that time i was doing graphic design for this ad agency and the place was crap. The top guy, the lead designer were all crap. Something about using me seemed to please them. They at the time had this skewed notion that they had "reached" and everybody else was nothing. But years rolled on and i rose from that episode and many others stronger, bolder, wiser.

I promised myself i won't be a door-mat for anything nor anyone. Everything about me levitated around my pride and i let it because it kept me alive. Fed my life with the fuel i needed to keep burning. Now i look back and i think maybe i slipped a little on that promise, because somehow i got people stepping on me and i can't believe am letting them. It's been so many years coming, i should be the last to get stepped on. Today, am back to that age where i took no crap coz i deserve better. And it feels mighty stupendous being above the rim!

Serenity in Truth

Yesterday i re-learnt an old but important lesson. That there's serenity in sticking to the truth. The truth about yourself, the truth about your life, the people you know, your surroundings. It's such a simple truth in itself.

I rediscovered that peace that comes from being true to your being and letting everything else sway with the flow of such realization. This happened because I got stuck in between a rock and a hard place. The only way out was to speak my truth although i knew there were gigantic chances of it recoiling on me. I still did it and today i feel liberated and settled. And it inspired me to do this piece "Serenity in Truth". I think i'll write a poem too soon.

Serenity has taken over anxiety. Am at peace with myself. Could there be any greater thing?

The Debut

Hallo All!

Hi, this is Marazzmatazz and this is the Debut. Blogging all the way from Nairobi, Kenya on latitude 01.17S, longitude 36.48E. I've always wanted to blog maybe as a way to share ideas, express myself and journey within my poetry, making it available out there. So today i begin.

Since am still fairly new in this "game", i'll brush up on my skills before i can further engage my creative juices to compeletely transform this blogsite into something "strange" as i seem to do with every other thing i do. :)

Which reminds me of my place and this little nice red chinese lantern hanging from one corner of the almost cube room. Here's the foto.

Little red chinese lantern