Saturday, 30 April 2016

THE DAMSEL.

When she walks in,she has to bend slightly by the entrance.She is that tall.The way she strutted along the array of tables,beautifully arranged,a peacock would have had nothing on her.Her head seemed to be floating,carried along by an invisible pole.Her face is expressionless and you wouldn't know if she was impressed by her surroundings or outright irked.She sweeps her eyes around,absorbing the sea of humanity who's attention is now firmly rooted on her.Her high-heels are sinking with every step because its been raining and water has found its way inside this tent.Don't ask me what i was doing inside a tent with tables beautifully arranged.When she pulls out her heels off the ground,she has to make this slight jump and all her accessories clap in unison.The necklaces and bracelets,that is.The traditional dancers who walked before her,wore stuff that produced this same clapping noise.Talk about tradition and modernity agreeing on something for once.She's shining all over.I mean the clothes she wore.Shining brighter than the lights up in the tent's 'ceiling'.At some point i thought she looked like one huge permanent camera flash-light.Hii Umeru itaniua,haki ya nani.Then,half way down the tables,she stops.All her accessories protest at this sudden stopping of movement and they clang and clatter some more.Then she sweeps her eyes round,as if in search of someone to torture.Then she swings ever so slightly,and her gaze finally rest in my direction.I want to hide but that's like hiding from a giraffe in a grassland.If she's been reading my thoughts,then my day with my maker may have just arrived.For these thoughts were far from what you would call nice.I breath in hard,for she has started the forward motion towards me,sweeping all aside.Behind her you will find napkins and table-cloths,for she is in this gown that seems to be mildly magnetic,attracting stuff on it,only to release them after a few seconds.Being dressed for the occasion,she has this huge ribbon running across her shoulders to the waist,which announces to all who she really is.She's a beauty pageant winner,something i know nothing about.

I breath a sigh of relief when she veers off my path and heads to a table occupied by these black men with curly hair,who speak like they have a throat infection,and who's description will not be expounded further,for my own security.Never mind,they had earlier been frisked and ascertained to be carrying no grenades in their stomachs so this damsel is no physical danger at all.As she takes a seat,she swings her midriff like its about to move out of its place.The men stare at her like she's from outer space.Then they embark on a barrage of this strange language that no one can understand if you ask me.Even they.It doesn't bother the damsel one bit because even though they are obviously talking about her,she understands not a single word,so that's their problem,not hers.When the waiter approach,the damsel studies him first from head to toe.Too bad the fela's shoes have seen better days,and trust me there's nothing as degrading as someone staring at the one flaw you have and is aware of, but can do nothing about at the moment, because of 'torn pockets'. You want them to look elsewhere but they'd rather pull everyone's attention to the one flaw you'd rather hide.It gets worse if,instead of shooting them,you are required by law to smile.She proceeds to place an order,after half an hour.As the waiter leaves,you can see smoke bellowing out of his ears even though on his face,is this smile.

It would be another ten minutes before the waiter returns.He's shocked to find an empty seat.The men with the strange language are too engrossed in their hearty conversation to be of much help.The damsel,immediately after placing the order,rose and strutted to another table,half a mile away,without waiting for her order to be delivered.The waiter is searching frantically around,then spots the obvious give-away that would direct a blind hippo to you-the shiny clothes.Carrying his overloaded tray,he heads to her new location and places his load on her table.Just then,another waiter shows up and places his own load on the exact table.Apparently the damsel,in her impatience,sent two waiters,though she placed different orders.Now sitting in front of her is a party,not a meal.And when you look at her size,the irony sinks in.Modelling must be a costly business.There is a sharp bone protruding from her back,just below the shoulders,who's DNA you can see.She's skinnier than skinny.As a matter of fact,the skin is the only thing that's holding her bones in place.One false move and she would disintegrate into a million pieces of beauty pageants.Its her turn now to wish attention away.She pretends to type away on her large gadget,(Again,hii Umeru itaniua),but even if you don't know what it is like me,you can tell when something is on and when its off.This one is clearly off.But maybe it works best when off,who knows.For this damsel is typing frantically like her life depends on it.The waiters stay put.Each one is trying his own 'karibu chakula dada',but the damsel may have turned deaf,for she pays them no attention.

She raises her head,to face the waiters,like her Majesty the Queen of Mongolia.Then she looks at the party before her,inwardly salivating.But you are not allowed to consume unhealthy foods,if you want to remain a 'queen'. The other guests must be crazy,according to her,for looking around,all seems to be enjoying the hearty meal.If the Cosmopolitan Magazine says African food is awful and unhealthy,a 'queen' worth her salt would be best advised to believe it.Then she waves the food away,with a scorn on her face,but not before nibbling on each plate,as if to ensure nobody else will touch it after she is through.She's been on this table for ten minutes flat,by which time she's managed to irritate all and sundry.Reminding me of the day 'Miss Kenya' showed up at the site of a collapsed flat, with flowers and high heels.As others were using bare hands to move blocks of concrete and steel away,she posed for cameras,with the site as her background.She may have had compassion on the families trapped under the rubble.But you couldn't have told that from the flowers and the high heels.She was the most unwelcome sight on site,and the most useless as well,under the circumstances.

The damsel gets on her feet.The clatter and clang follow suit.Her heels are inches deep in this soft ground.She pulls her leg up forcefully,so that the other one sinks even deeper.Then she repeats the motion over and over again,all the way to the entrance,by which time the other guest have started clapping for her ironically,for having successfully navigated through the most difficult lunch of her entire life.Hii Umeru,kweli itatuua.Maybe its time we stuck the only things we are sure of at all times-green things.

Sunday, 3 April 2016

OF HABITS/AND ADDICTIONS-HOW TO BREAK LOOSE.

Many of us struggle on a daily basis,with habits we'd rather get rid of.Yet the more we struggle,the tighter the noose seems to get.Some of us seem to have it all,like everything 's just fallen into perfect place.Many seem to have their act together,seem to be in perfect control.The sad reality however is,the outward picture is as deceiving as a mirror that's broken right down the middle.
Many people will smile during the day,but cry hot tears once they retreat to their abodes,once the door is safely locked behind them.Because that which they want to change about themselves is actually what they seem to be doing more and more.Nothing can be more frustrating than that. Some guys will shout loudest at the bar, but instantly transform to timid pussycats when they get home,because the guilt and the desire to be different is greater when alone.Others will hide behind their pride,convincing themselves that everything is alright.But no one has ever successfully ran away from themselves,and soon the truth will hit home.Half of the hapless drunks in the allay actually hate the situation they are in.They wish things were different,that they were living sober, focused lives.Others are sitting somewhere with their 'buddies' in a strip club,smoking Shisha to look trendy,but would give anything to be home with their kids.The habit keeps having its way.Later, frustrations set in and performance spirals downwards.They are struggling inside,but they look alright to the normal observer.I don't have an antidote for that.I don't have a solution either.But i do have my take on how to break free.

Learn To Hate The Habit.

Let's get something straight here.Those things you hold dear to you ,you keep them close.You can only break free of a habit if you learn to despise it.I don't care what psychologists and columnist say in unison but,hate it and you wont keep it much longer.Focus on how its held you down,how long its taken advantage of you.Internalize that and blame your Grandmas little spat with her goat on it.Blame the global warming on it,even Manchester United's awful form on it.Blame all your financial woes on it and counsel yourself that minus the habit,it will be smooth sailing for you all the way to the pearly gates.Because its actually true.If you've made it this far,plus the baggage,imagine how fast and far you'll run without it.You can't keep holding on to something that dreadful.What your spirit lets go,its gone for good.And your spirit is too clean to cling on to a dumpsite,when it has the option of playing in a flower garden.

Identify The Trigger Points.

Every habit or addiction has its 'trigger points'. These have to be the things or situations that the brain associate with a certain pattern or behavioral change.That's why the school teacher will be all composed and collected until he visits the Sacco offices,then all drunk demons will pay him a visit.Whether he's getting his pay or not,he'll hit the bar immediately afterwards.Identify your trigger points and go for alternatives.Its murky here,but its worth it.Is it that T.V channel or is it that little intrusive thought that the adversary sneaks in like a dart.Or is it something someone always says to you,that gets to you so bad and sends you on a binge.Treat these trigger points as your adversary.Nurture an enmity with them,steer clear off them.Skip the T.V channel,avoid that website.Because you are the evidence that every time you visit it,regrets follow.Walk to the football playground at the exact moment that demands you visit that dingy den,where they sell you froth you can't see.Ignore that inviting text,switch off the damn phone if you have to.Whatever you do,this one day,do it differently.Its one day at a time,victory is on the way.

Think Positive.

See yourself free.Envision the joy of freedom,for that's where you are headed.Even if no one else on the planet has ever kicked your kind of addiction,worry not.You will be the first.No two men are exactly alike.No one has ever meant it like you do,no one has ever had more resolve.Oscar Pistorius,without the murder case,has nothing on you.You've owned up to your pitfalls.That makes you a hero.So you are on your way,and nothing in the world is going to stop you.Internalize those kind of thoughts,own them even.How the next guy tried and failed has nothing to do with you.They didn't do it right.You will.You will not make the mistakes they made.Plus your drive is fiercer and unstoppable.You will go down history books,by redefining the word victory.You have special equipment those who failed in the past didn't have.You are unique and unrivaled.Kids will study you in school,drunks will sing songs in praise of you.You've jsut started a winning stretch no one can touch.See yourself that way- unparalleled.

Ditch The Crowd.

As they say,you are a product of the first five people you hang around with.They weren't joking,its true.So drop those so called 'friends',who keep lighting up when the last thing you want to see,for obvious reasons,is a lit stick of smelly tobacco.. You don't share the same resolve,you have no business to transact.You can't hang around grossly tattooed outlaws while looking all smooth,clean and 'legal'.At some point you will succumb to the pressure,and get one tattoo of your own and before you know it,your mama is asking for her son,while you stand right in front of her,unrecognizable.If you hang around people who see nothing wrong with sitting in an office,totally unproductive for the whole day,as they talk about crops they didn't plant,you will be the next nincompoop in a suit and a tie.The salary is not everything.Its about how you are using that which the Lord gave you,to make your contribution to the world.And to give Him glory.Don't criticize the habit,as you sit with your 'brothers in sin'. For then,you are part of the problem.You are the fuel that makes the fire stronger.Step out,and the fire will subside.Its going to be lonely out there at first.But eventually,others like you will locate you.And you will make a formidable strike force.Then,and only then,will you locate true friendship and companionship.Other kind of 'friendships' were only sustained by the slavery you shared,especially the mental kind of slavery.

Rediscover Your Hobbies.

God sent no one to the world empty handed.Each of us was equipped with all that was necessary to ensure we lacked nothing in this world.Talents to earn us a living effortlessly were distributed equitably by the wisest being there is and there ever will be.But along the way,the habits and the addictions came and those 'equipments' were effectively buried.Hand the adversary a resounding defeat,by picking that shovel and scooping all sand off that 'grave'.Its marked so you can't miss it.You are gifted in it so there's no one else who's quite like you.You are the best.But only if you do it.At exactly the same time you would have joined your friends for a fix of weed,read that book.Follow the news on Sky news,for you loved current affairs,before the addictions blurred you.Write,if that's what does it for you.Sing all your favorite songs,for you have a great voice and soon you'll prefer singing to gossip.Draw that sketch.Love it.Its what you love doing so who cares if the world takes notice.Do it anyway,because had you been the only one in the world, you still would have done it.Have fun,pal.Have fun,by rediscovering yourself.And enjoy every moment.

Use Your History To Your Advantage.

Your past reads like the original script of a horror movie,written by a proven psychopath.Fine.Turn it into a stalk reminder of what bad habits can do.Beat your past in its own game.Defeated souls will scoff at your attempts to change and make fun of it.But in actual fact,they are scared of of being one man less,in their escapades.They'll say your type can't break free and toast to it,while all along throwing glances at the door, hoping you will troop back,head hung down.Your history has no power to define you,unless you buy the lie.Rwanda's history is genocide and murder of unprecedented proportions.Now as we grapple with tribal numerical counts,that pass for elections,she's turned into a jewel that glows in the dark.She was there before us,so she knows better.She's embraced reconciliation and brotherhood as the way forward.We have a more colorful past than hers.But i wish i could say the same of the future.Your past is defeated.Treat it as so.It failed to put you six feet under when it had a chance.Now you are the one to bury it for good.That alone,calls for a celebration.What joy.

Act.Be Pro active.

There are things about you that defined you as your previous character.Eject them physically.If for nothing else,the message that action will pass on to the subconscious mind.Begin by taking down that Tupac Shakur poster you've hang in your room for a decade.Because you are through with 'thug life',this poster is of no use to someone as conscious as you.Throw it into the trashcan,and walk away feeling triumphant.You have a right to feel that way,because you are well on your way.Throw away that C.D.Its of no use now.Go through your ward robe and do away with all those 20 centimeter long dresses,for the unpopular modest skirt suit.Your friends are going to laugh at you.Worry not.They know not your resolve.They think you enjoyed walking around half-naked in sophistication's name,bearing all the cold goose bumps.They have no idea you were living a life you hated,a life that didn't define who you really are.Ignore the gasps and the 'oooh!'s.They are comfortable in it,you are not.Please don't expect them to join you down this road.You made an entry into the world alone,and you'll exit alone.Its all about you,now and what's best for you.Time to be you is here.You've lived for them long enough.Its now time to live for you and the one who made you so flawlessly.If your friends 'don't do church',and you feel inclined to join the church choir,that's alright.They'll think you are making afool of yourself,dressed in those flowing costumes like you work for the circus group.But its your calling,not theirs.Somebody actually thinks you sound gorgeous and that's whom you were meant to touch.Your seed is different and special.

As i said i do not have the answers.Or the solutions.I don't even know why i did this.But it feels right.No matter how deep the hole you are in seems,once you begin the uphill climb,rest assured eventually you'll be at the top.That's when you'll realize the uphill struggle was worth every effort.May the good Lord,He who created you free and unburdened,see to it that you get exactly that which you wish for-freedom.Shalom.