Someone else other than 'Paris'

 "These are usually just some thoughts that I would share with myself but I thought f' it, it's worth it to share them with someone else other than Paris for once" 

I'm not one of those people who are bothered if you get my name wrong, or pronounce it wrong. It doesn't move me. No kidding, there's a shop keeper who calls me Dorcas, and I always respond to it. On top of that, I like all derivatives of my name Elizabeth. In a way, it shows how I'm a different person to different people? Rather, how people interpret me differently. Idk. Can you guys pronounce Sabheeti? That's Elizabeth in my shags, I love it. Always reminds me of how Luhya I am. My 2nd name, Litali, people get wrong all the time. They say L.italy Litalia, Natali, Kitali. I really don't mind. We can keep it moving, unless it's someone recording an official document, then I correct them cause those can get tricky. You don't want to end up having to go to Huduma Center. Ain't nobody got time for that. 

But there's people I have beef with, and it's those who get song lyrics wrong. You. Kent (can't). Be. Ciriaz (serious). It's one thing not to know the lyrics, that's cool, but singing the wrong words? Naah. You're being a joker. I'd prefer you just hum over the part you don't know, but please, don't sing the wrong words. These are the kind of people who instead of singing "who's your guy?" they'll sing sth like "booze your guy?" As in, that just changes the whole mood, vibe and meaning of the ENTIRE song.

I surprisingly came to find out that it's not a universal thing to want to learn a song's lyrics as soon as one hears a song. Personally, I don't enjoy a song if I don't know the lyrics. I'll always have to go on Genius at least once, ama I check them on Spotify, then I can sing along. When afro beats/ Nigerian music became popular, my friends nicknamed me Tiwa Savage. I wished it was for her looks or appeal, wrong! It was because I knew the lyrics to all Nigerian songs. Damn. Haha

The opening paragraph of this post is a verse from Drake on his song with Jay-Z, Pound cake/Paris Morton Music 2 music. One of the greatest collabs of all time, that's a fact, not an opinion. Needless to say, I know the whole song word for word. I'm a Jay-Z stan, a proper one. Drake, I like some of his songs but his personality is a bit flavorful for my liking. But in this song, I dug his personality kwanza when he was like "my highschool reunion might be worth an appearance, make everybody have to go through security clearance". Bars!! 

At the beginning of 2019, I decided that I wasn't going back to my job as a sales person. I was going to pursue a business in baking and so I needed motivation, a lot of it. That's when, I truly fell in love with hip-hop, their stories of how they started from nothing and were resilient enough to beat the odds that were against them to finally make it at the other end of the tunnel. Their journeys are spiritual and listening to them encouraged me. It's at that time I also discovered The Breakfast Club, with Charlamagne, Angela Yee & Dj Envy. I love it. Now it's just the 2 guys plus guest hosts and I still watch it, especially when they interview people. I love listening to people's stories, plus those guys are silly, and that's my primary love language : silly. 

It's from watching it jana, I learnt that Nelly and Ashanti might be dating, again. Guys, if that's the case, I'm here for it, ama? Such nostalgia of our childhood/growing up. Speaking of Ashanti, I used to follow her on IG then I unfollowed her, I'll tell you why. Being a millennial, I had to join a movement kwanza the way there's so many of them to choose from lol. Most of which just chosha our parents. Like my mum, she gets so tired of the words I use. (She sometimes calls me Mamaa)

"Mamaa, you've lost weight, you look...." 

"Ma, I'm now all about body neutrality, it's not so much about how my body looks but about what it can do"

Sighs 

"Sasa now what are all these words, ai you people na hii maneno yenu mingi. Nioshee hii sufuria"

*Immediately regrets walking into the kitchen*

Back to Ashanti. Because I'm on a body neutral journey, I just had to unfollow her. Anytime I'd see her photos, especially of her in swimsuits tena on vacay, I'd feel something swell up in my throat. Some might call it jealousy. Maybe I'd even feel sorry for myself because I'll never be able to look like that and if I can, I'm not willing to put in the work. It's never that serious. Or maybe it is, but I figured those who will love me will have to because of my personality. At least they'll say "lakini ako na roho poa" haha. 

Aaanyhu, this blog turns 1 month today. My friend gets annoyed by those couples who celebrate their month-anniversaries, lol. By the way, do you know there are some people who've never fikishad 1 year with a partner. Should we blame Nairobi ama they are the problem? 

All this to say, I pray I'll fikisha and pitisha 1 year of posting on here. I'm enjoying the process, even when I feel like I'm just talking nonsense. 

Like Drake said, these are usually just some thoughts that I would share with myself ... but thank you for reading (it's me who's said that, not Drake)

Also, this weather just needs to stop. It should only rain in farms then the rest of us should be left to enjoy the African sun, sindio?

Obsessions

Shy isn't the word I'd use to describe myself. I'm just an introvert and then on top of that, I have a resting ciriaz (serious) face. It's genetic. My stoic face. Got it from my dad. I sometimes look like a school principal in a clurrb, kwanza when I wear my specs. I've been asked a number of times "kwani umejam?" Meanwhile, I'm just chilling. Most of my friends are extroverts/ambiverts so when with them, especially around new people, I can be the more quiet one.

But guys, you should see me watching Love is Blind. Or Real Housewives of Atlanta. I'm. A. Menace! There's nothing chill about me. I'm loud, I don't contain my laughter, I pause the tv, clap my hands, talk at the cast, agree or disagree with them. I say "uuuwii" while raising my hands dramatically. I shake my head and say to myself a line I learnt from my mum, "hawa wazungu watatuonyesha mambo". Wazungu to also mean Black Americans.  

I cry with them, then I go get tissue, return and continue to cry 'nicely'. Haha. I'm ungovernable. Mind you, I mostly watch these alone. It's one of my favorite 'me time' activities. I get totally engulfed. I don't care if I'm on dinner duty, I'm bisi (busy). We'll buy the dinner. If I had kids, I'd be in my 'f them kids' era. They could eat ice cream for dinner for all I care. Btw speaking of wazungu and mambo zao, I watch some vlogs. There's this family which occasionally has peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. Eh, interesting. Where's the stew?

Anyway(z), speaking of drama, big shout out to the Johnny Depp vs Amber Heard case last year. I was hyper-fixated on it. It made my entire April and May ama is it Q2? (corporate guys). l I used to watch it live every evening from like 5:00pm and follow the whole proceeding until say 11:00pm. With all the theatrics I've described above. And when Johnny (first name basis because I feel like I know the man) won, I celebrated! Like a mad woman. I'm still so happy for him.

During this period, my small bro - who's my housemate - has to painfully endure this personality of mine. It's all I talk about. All my jokes are references to what I'm watching. I even sometimes adopt the accent and mannerisms of my favorite people. My noise infiltrates his space. Last year, I remember he had to pause reading for exams when I was watching the Love is Blind season 2 reunion. The one for kina Sheikh haha. It was quite something guys.

The best part about watching these things is the memes. After I finish an episode, I go on Twitter and scroll, laughing (loudly) some more. I fall in love with people who have the same thoughts as me and 'cancel' those I disagree with. I have discussions with my friends, those who are as invested as I am. It's the only time I text long paragraphs. We become professors. We call each other and share opinions. This Love is Blind season 4 has been fire. I still hold the opinions I have about Kwame and Chelsea, even after the reunion. It's my truth. Lol. Plus I thought it's pronounced as Kwame, not Kwami, ama? Don't even get me started on Jackie and Josh. What about Vanessa Lachey? Heh! Anyway, now that it's over, I can return to myself, to my responsibilities. I guess I'll make dinner and wash the dishes on time. Until next the next one.

Another thing I'm obsessing over is Ringoz, the snack. I went to my girl's home one day and she gave us 1 packet, we ate. Then she opened 2nd packet, we ate. When it was over, she asked if she should open a third one. So I did that mgeni thing of pretending to have had enough. She still opened. So I said sure, I'll have kidogo tu, but I ended up finishing the packet.

I'm ruined. I think about them all. the. time. After every meal, it's Ringoz time. Even if I play myself at a restaurant and order food that I don't enjoy, I'm consoled that I have Ringoz waiting for me. The best or worst part is that a pack is like 25/= bob. I knew I was down bad when over Easter I thought wine and Ringoz doesn't sound bad. You know when that guy for snacks was talking about them(Tonnie Mpole), I didn't take him seriously. I should have listened. But it's better later than never. (Remember those small ticks we'd get at the end of every paragraph in a composition if you'd end it with such a saying? lol) 

On Monday I went to the supermarket. Of course on my list of things to buy was Ringoz. When I got to that aisle, I started looking for them, pole pole tu. But I couldn't spot them. Then a cute girl who looked about 7 joined me in that aisle. She was also looking for something but couldn't seem to find it. I immediately knew what it was. I started looking faster now, cause I just knew if we'd spot them and there was only a few packets left, I'd have to take all of them. I was ready. I was going to tackle her if need be. I was gonna say "sorry kamum, they're for my kid's who are going on a trip" (I have no kids yet, and only one nephew who lives 488kms away from me). She would sulk and say "okay, but can you please leave one for me" then I'd say "oh no, I'm so sorry, if I could, I would, but I also have to buy for my nephews and nieces, they're going on the trip together".

Then I'd leave with all of the stock and eat the first packet in the car before my 15 minutes of parking expire. I would have no regrets. Zero.

Luckily for her, we both didn't see what we were looking for. In a defeated voice, the girl said to her mom "they don't have Ringoz" and I felt woiye. I chimed in and also said to her mum "yeah that's what I'm also looking for". I expected some sympathy or empathy. Instead, she bluntly said, "I don't even know what those are"... To avoid further heartbreak, I just took my trolley and moved on to another aisle thinking "how insensitive". I felt bad for wanting to tackle the girl and wished we could form a WhatsApp and plan maandamano against that supermarket. Baba we're suffering lol.

To my girl, who introduced me to Ringoz, thank you for making such an impact. My life has never been the same.

What are you guys currently obsessing over? 

3 Days, Max!

If you attended an 8-4-4 primary and and mostly secondary school, surely there must have come a time that your class was number last in the stream. Or, even if you were always the top class (rolls eyes) your performance at some point was 'below average'.

All subject teachers would come in and give you guys a good lecture. Then there was the class teacher's special. It's the same week Pepe Minambo would be invited for a talk. He'd come and spell 'SMART' vertically. Each letter with an even stronger meaning. As he'd conclude, he'd promise the whole school cocktails in our 'evening dresses' if we all got A's haha. He knew we wouldn't. Which is okay because I suspect they'd be mocktails, probably watermelon and mango juice. On Sunday service, Pastor Kioko would most dramatically say how the people in Alliance aren't sleeping. What you don't realize is that years later, they still don't sleep if they haven't told you they were in Alliance. Also, Starehe boys are the same, if not worse.

All these lectures, talks and sermons would end with 1 common parting shot : "...you came here alone and you'll leave here alone." Which is kind of ironic because my closest circle are girlies I was in highschool with (a majority of them).

Anyway, after those talks, as a class and as individuals, you decide to make alterations. There's even no need for a noisemaker's list. You complete your assignments and write all your notes (btw I never finished my Social Studies notes.) You even prepare your own study timetable and form study groups. You're a changed being. Your life's mission is to have your name and school appear in the newspapers.

There was a time I got suspended from school. That's a story for another day. But it wasn't because of not finishing my SST notes. It was a case of mistaken identity haha. Anyway(z), while serving my suspension, I missed some CATs. Come end of the term, I was literally number last in class. Heh! The next term I came back so criaz (serious)

Usually, these life changes would last for all of 3 days, max! And you're back to your old ways. "Kufa dereva, kufa makanga, wacha gari ianguke". You ask your deskie to tell the Geography teacher you're unwell so you just have to sleep. Why? Because honestly, there was nothing more painful than listening to 90 minutes of 'The characteristics of obsidian rocks'. You only enjoy set-books. Stories.

*** 

It's 2012 and you're yet to join Uni. You're taking those computer packages classes and the highlight of your week is meeting your friends at Nakumatt Lifestyle on Fridays. On the weekdays also, you volunteer at some organization and spend a lot of time on the computer playing solitaire. You then stumble upon bikozulu.wordpress.com. It's a fireplace, where stories are told... with eyes closed. The guy telling these stories has a style of writing that's different. Beautiful. He has a way around his words, it's as if they were playmates in the womb. You savor every story. 

As he continues to grow and evolve, - gets his own domain - you can tell or believe that he's daring, non-judgmental, curious and funny. The first time you learn what is a Sabina Joy, is from him. Scandalous! Anyway, you become a stan (of Biko, not Sabina Joy)

You read him : 

At the hospital as you wait for your dad to go through chemotherapy.

On the night you receive the news that your dad is cancer-free, after weeping with your mum in each other's embrace. 

When you leave Uni and are accompanied by the reality and loneliness of early-adulting.

When you're nursing your worst heartbreak, in a Blueline shuttle on the way to Kakamega.

When you're amongst your friends in corporate jobs and they're speaking in acronyms. "COB, EOD, BYSS(lol)" or data guys with sijui Wiget.

You read him every Tuesday. You've read 'The 3 am man' fifty four times and each time, you still giggle. Some stories like 'They were birds, but they didn't sing' you go back to, to be reminded of the cruelty but also the resilience of humans. To feel something. You're a Gang member for life. 

11 years later, Biko shakes your hand and introduces himself to you. That humility thing that famous people do. Kina Beyoncé. Also, his face isn't out there as Beyoncé's is, so I guess he kind of has to introduce himself.

On that Wednesday morning, he wears msanii pants (plaid printed), matches it with a navy blue and maroon shirt and pairs the look(u) with Nike sneakers. On one of his hands, he rocks a bracelet and on his neck, a chain that's settled in the depths so you only see it shimmer from time to time when he leans forward. He also rocks an earring, msanii things. And a salt and pepper beard. How is he in person? Pretty chill, curious, open, still funny and tall. 

It's the 2023 Bikozulu Writing Masterclass, March Edition. It's to take place for 3 days, max! You want to be more intentional with your art. As a rite of passage, you enroll for this class.

On day 1, as you and your classmates introduce yourselves to each other, Biko digs deep. His questions are like shots bila chaser. Immediately, you have a feeling of belonging : this is where you're supposed to be and you're grateful to be there.

You meet Bett, Biko's co-facilitator and are swoon. You admire how cool her personality is and how settled she is within herself. She knows her stuff, and says things as they are. "If you put me in that WhatsApp group, I'll eventually leave." Haha. Because she's a great writer and author, she gets us. Our dreams, our insecurities and our ambitions. She teaches us, affirms us and validates us.

You learn about what it takes to be a disciplined writer from the two. This will make you better in many ways and forms.

The sessions are interactive and casual. Each time you look at the clock, you die a little inside. Time flies when you're having fun and you don't want it to end. But at least you're distracted from this heartbreak by snacks, lots of them. And tea.

You're grateful for the new family of writers that you've found in your classmates. You now all know that Frank Sinatra has a cold, some better than others (inside joke. I hate it when people have inside jokes and I'm not included. Ai. But I can't explain now only cause it'll be too long).

When the WhatsApp group is formed, you don't mute it.

The differences between these classes and those 8-4-4 high school ones are incomparable. For one, you don't hear the word 'syllabus' once. At the end, there is no ranking, meaning no lectures from Biko and Bett. Plus we actually got to have cocktails, Mr Pepe!

The experience feels like a pilgrimage. A Mecca for writers. You're a changed being, for real this time. You know this because the switches you've made ever since, have managed to last for more than 3 days.

Check out Bett's books here https://craftit.co.ke/

Y'all know Biko's blog

https://bikozulu.co.ke/

Ati Where?

The only reason I'm still coming back as a female in my next life is cause I suck at directions. Someone with a less sense of direction is hard to imagine. (Well, I know just one other person in my circle of friends)

The expectation of knowing where places are and how to get to them is placed more on men than it is women. For example, in a wedding committee, I've never seen a female transport manager. If I came back male, this would be far too much responsibility for me to bear. Let's say I had to give directions on how to get to the reception venue from the church, the whole wedding party would end up in Kiambu Road instead of Limuru. All because of my poor instructions.

I'd be expected to be a provider, protector, know good car mechanics, then worse, be Google maps in person. Although now that I think about it, maybe having to deal with all car issues plus mechanics isn't the most fun. The plight of the boy child! I get it.

During peak Covid-days, I got caught by cops. I was driving to my destination past the 9:00p.m curfew. I thought I was on the road that had no cops. I was wrong. When they stopped me, it was a brief interaction.

"Madam, unafanya nini kwa barbara saa hii"

I put on my best damsel in distress performance 

"aki pole afande, gari yangu imekuwa na shida, na mechanic wa...."

"Sasa ntakuacha uende lakini chai ya 500/= ndio itafukuza hii baridi" 

PL51R6BOVX Confirmed. Ksh500.00 sent to ... To reverse, foward this message to 456.

I contemplated reversing that transaction. Then in the middle of that thought, I got caught. Again! At the entrance of Runda.

This time, these men in (ugly) blue gave me a harder time. After a lot of negotiations, they agreed that they were going to let me go. On condition though. First, they kidnapped (haha) my friend who was on the passenger seat. Then, I was supposed to go to the nearest Mpesa shop and withdraw their ransome. We were then to exchange my friend for the money. This sounded fair.

I drove off to the Mpesa shop alright. Coming back I had to use the back gate of Runda. This is where the confusion began. I put my maps on, but for the life of me, and my friend in captive, I just couldn't find my way back. I got so lost within that estate. Getting to dead ends every time. No kidding, this took almost half an hour.

My friend on the other end - whose phone was off - had concluded that I'd hepad them. Abandoned them. They'd accepted their fate. Spend the night in the mariamu and later in cell and start a new life as a police abductee. 

This called for an SOS. The only way I'm home now is cause of my other friends. I had to turn on my live location for them to leave their house past curfew, to come to my rescue. In the process, they also managed to pay for my/our friend's freedom. 

I can't imagine being the type of father who is always the one following other cars in a convoy. It would always be us being waited on in case the car in front went too fast. My kids would be so ashamed of me. Hazards would be a trigger for them. It would mean that the car in front of them has a dad/mum who knows directions better than their own. 

One day, my kids will have somewhere important to be, one of those school things. As their Dad, I'll be the one tasked to take them there. I'll turn on my maps and still take the wrong exit or the wrong ramp. The next place to make a U-turn will be somewhere in Vanga. So instead of driving back and getting lost again, we'll just have to start a new life there and survive on what the little ones packed for break. 

Vanga is a small town with a population of about 10,000 people. It is located at the farthest end of Southeast Kenya. It is known as Kenya's last town since the only place it neighbours is Tanzania and the Indian Ocean

I'd be ashamed as a dad, because I'll always see the disappointment in my babies eyes. I'll start to notice them get nervous whenever it's home time and we have to leave a party. They'll always want to leave with their Aunt Nimz because apart from barely needing maps when she's driving, she easily comes off the tightest parallel parkings.

Just over the weekend, someone was telling me about Kendu Bay, then about Mbita. In that moment, I felt grateful that I didn't have to know the topographical difference between those places.

On most Sundays, I join my friends to watch Formula 1 races at this dope place called Craic Grill. This is how my conversations with cab drivers or boda riders go

"Madam hii Craic Grill iko wapi?"

"Iko King'ara Road"

"King'ara Road wapi?" 

"Ata mi ni mara yangu ya kwanza kuenda, wacha tu tufuate maps"  

 

Even when I frequent a place it'll take me like thrice to figure out how to get there from one direction. Let's say I've only known how to get to Red Ginger in Parklands using the Parklands Police station route, it will take me almost another year for me to figure out how to get to there from say 2nd Parklands Avenue. Even with Maps on, it took me forever to properly know which exit to take, when leaving Thika Super Highway to get into town, then Uhuru Highway. I always used to take the one that leads to the globe flyover. Real tears guys. Sasa I had to ng'ang'ana with those Nissan matatus and endure that traffic. Sigh...

In my current life, as a 29 year old girl, the pressure of knowing everywhere is not so much on me. Of course I feel very frustrated when I add 30 minutes to my ETA. At least in groups of people especially where guys are included, I'll never be the one asked to lead a convoy. I still hide behind my friends who just check maps once, at the beginning of the journey only and they know which roads to use. What!?

As for me it still remains "Ati Where?"