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17 Days Ago

You meet your friend who introduces you to his outrageously beautiful friend. You exchange pleasantries and part company.

13 Days Ago

You bump into your friend's friend at the bus stop. You engage in loose talk, exchange contacts and promise to keep in touch.

11 Days Ago

You receive a text from her first thing in the morning wishing you a splendid day. You smile all the way to work.

10 Days Ago

You give her a call though you really have nothing to talk about.

9 Days Ago

You engage in text craze with her till sunset. She tells you about her frustrations in her relationship; the selfish guy with a high affinity for everything in a skirt.

8 Days Ago

The text craze continues. Now more than ever the thumbs are sore.

7 Days Ago

You agree to hang out that evening. You spend the whole evening drooling over her beauty which you lavishly pay compliments to. You realise the strange fact that good people always inspire naughty thoughts from the fairly good people.

6 Days Ago

She puts you on the spot for not introducing your girlfriend to her yet. You tell her how you've put relationships on hold till further notice. She doesn't buy it. They always do anyway.

5 Days Ago

Regardless of her busy schedule, she still finds an excuse to text you.

4 Days Ago

You spend more than half an hour on phone with her. By the time you are through its 2 am.

3 Days Ago

Despite her best efforts to lure you to the watering hole for a drink or two later that evening, you politely decline the invite citing fatigue. You promise to make up for the 'lost' time.

2 Days Ago

She introduces you to her selfish, skirt chaser of a boyfriend. You are not impressed with her taste. You think she can do better. Somehow you strike a conversation with him and realise he ain't evil through and through.

She later that night texts you to invite you to her place. She promises good food and a nice movie. You agree.

Yesterday

You leave work early and find your way to her place. You commend her on the neatness of her room, you go one better on the food, and settle to catch the movie. You ask yourself why she has chosen The Notebook! She gets all teary through the movie so she seeks your embrace. You don't object.

On your way out after the movie she crowns this her best evening in a long time and then plants one of those prolonged infectious kisses on your lips and wishes you a good night. You stand there dazed while she shuts the door. You find your way home and lie in bed for close to 4 hours.

You just cant sleep!

Today

Your head is heavy. You desperately want to sleep.

While you keep your eyes fixed on the phone expecting a text from her any second, you ask yourself why you just cant be friends!

Me! Yoga?

Like most men, I've always been rather skeptical about meditation. When it came to achieving inner tranquillity, I'd done okay with repeats of Friends and an occasional can of Castle.

Yet there I was, a little more than two years ago, sitting cross-legged on the floor for what I hoped would be a stress-relieving hour of yoga meditation. As I looked around the room where this lesson was being given, it seemed as if a stereotype had come to life: a bald man in a robe walked among us holding a stick while, eyes closed, we tried to focus on nothing but our breathing. 

Then I learned what the stick was for. I moved - a twitch really - and this holy man did something I never would have expected.

He whacked me on the top of the head!

I spent the rest of the session flinching, anticipating the next blow. Everyone else seemed peaceful and serene, but by the end of the class I was ready to challenge our leader to a fight. Lets see how yoga-like he'll be when I'm smashing his face in.

It would have been easy to dismiss meditation as either bogus or demented. But I was desperate. My anxiety levels were soaring, my ability to sleep was plummeting and this is when migraines chose to strike. It was when I locked my keys in the car and the house on the same day that I knew I needed something to unscatter my thoughts.

My solution was to meditate on my own - to become, in effect, my own yogi. I've since discovered that just 15 minutes a day of meditation helps me not only to relax but also to concentrate better when I'm working.

But I ain't going back to that old man's lessons afterall I can't even fold my legs the way he wants me to. His yoga ain't the thing for me. Mine is. However it's been exactly 18 months since I last practiced but my tribulations of late might revive my routine.

Revolving Doors

So, I’ve been in the ranting mode of late. Forgive me for being such an ardent Benitez follower to end up being so very venomous with my words. But wait. Just before I completely stop ranting, I hope you understand that the frustrations are just too prickly to let go of unnoticed. There are three soaps I love to hate; The Quarellsomes, The Snobs and The Liars in that exact order. The world would be a dull place without them but I just can’t stand them. Is the bad me beating the good me into submission? I think not. In fact I know not. I still flash my mechanical smile too often that viewers might find annoying in the long run but again I thought a smile would be the mother of all signs that things are all too well in my world. I still think they are. Or do I just wish them to always be!

 

Well last week while I was downing coffee at Baldwin's, this lady dressed like she had just successfully bargained with one of our notorious Judges to put away another of those chicken thieves for sometime served up with the occassional hard labour, walked in and asked rather too politely to share a table with me. Being the gentleman I can be, I put on a smile (I bet it was a grin) and didn’t object. I haven’t even described what she looked like yet. Because if I do, I might have to role up Gisele Bundchen, Gwyneth Paltrow, Salma Hayek and Alek Wek into one. You get the mix, don’t you? Having to accurately describe every inch of leg, ear, lip, nose, et al, I'd go on forever. It’s no enviable task. I'll be honest with you, I had lust written all over my face and etched into my frontal lobes must have been some naughty thoughts. So I tried so very hard to control the 'Adam' in me and put up a conversation without having to play around with the spoon or shuffle my feet like I was possessed. She said she was a consultant. That all I heard and not the words that trailed. Apart from the word 'saviour' but that was after 6 or so minutes I presume. That was how taken up I was by her! I tried to console myself that saviour was part of the lengthy name of the firm she was 'consulting' for. Strange name I thought. Curious to know whether I had heard her right, I asked her to repeat herself. I wasn't however prepared for what I heard thereafter.  This time I heard Bible, Jesus, Worship and saviour all mentioned in the same line. The last I heard was that gut wrenching 'are you saved?' question. I don’t know what stopped me from losing my cool this time though I'm not the kind blessed or rather cursed with the proverbial short fuse. I calmly answered no and gathered my belongings, strewn all over the table and fled for the counter to clear my bill.

 

What pained me the most was leaving my half-empty cup of coffee behind and not the chance of getting to know this heavenly (pun intended) work of art.

I generally have distaste for such kinds of people. Not because I'm evil through and through but for how often they can kill your moment of hard earned joy, like that great cup of coffee, and for that we shall always be at odds. Always!

So you realise I'm not ranting after all, don’t you? I haven't been lavish but decisively economical with my distaste which must be a positive sign. But I can't promise not to go over the top when I encounter one of those many who preach by the roadside while making a mockery of PA systems. Or the next time I take a Bell ('For A Great Night and a Good Morning' is its slogan!) or two and wake up with a throbbing headache. Maybe I need help anyway if this qualifies to be mild ranting.

  And for those who have been desperate to know whether my quest for a better March is still on course, I’m sorry to report that I’ve withdrawn my investment into a relationship that has consistently posted loses of gargantuan proportions. Maybe it has a lot to do with the advent of revolving doors in my life. 

Now I truly love my life.

She Is Going To Skin Me

So, a ‘good’ friend of mine classifies herself a Certified Loner. I’m not even sure I should call her a good friend, owing to the fact that I last saw her ten....yes ten years ago, but I’d rather call her that. She has done nothing not to deserve it-it’s not like she has pulled a gun on me or worse made off with my muffin. But being a loner gets me thinking rather worryingly whether she is happy. But again what is happinesas any way? I’ve got no real answer but just what I think happiness should be all about.

It’s not about job success or raising perfect kids or a great marriage. It’s about how you live each moment. My neighbour Pamela, a young mother struggling to pay her bills and raises a child on a receptionist's salary, woke up one morning in a state of near despair. She and her husband had split up-again-and she was dead broke. The sky was overcast. Figuring things looked so bad she got out the vacuum and was dispiritedly working her way back and forth across the living room rug when she looked up. There right beside her with his toy vacuum, was her 18 month old son. He beamed at her, and Pamela realized that despite everything, in that moment she was perfectly content. At least that’s what she told me.

Most of us are like her. We conclude that if we aren’t happy all the time, then we aren’t happy. Yet its ludicrous to expect to be happy 24 hours a day. Happiness as I’ve come to see comes in bits and pieces, and what we must learn to do is savour the small events in our lives-like the baby working a vacuum across the room. Oddly it may come your way in the form of a bird several meters airborne, relieving itself on your precious top!

I understand Buddhists call this approach living mindfully or living with mindful awareness. I kind of agree, but there is no chance that I’m about to change my affiliation. Others describe it as living in the present, or growing where you’re planted. Whatever the phrase, the concept is the same: Its when you are consciously and completely experiencing where you are, what you are doing and how you are feeling. It’s when you aren’t thinking about anything but the experience you’re having.

At such moments, when the present is so full of richness and wonder that nothing else matters, when you are feeling connected to nature and to other people, you are happy. If there is one secret to happiness it is paying attention to these moments and creating opportunities for more of them in your life. I don’t even know if I’m even making any sense but I guess I’m happy! Is she?

Here I Come March

A man has never been happier to see a month end. Since that time when I woke up hungry one morning only to find that the rat had chewed on my bread; the car wouldn’t start as I hastened to be at work in time for a crucial assignment; and the wailing baby in the next seat pissed onto my shirt on its debut when i opted to take the famed K'la taxis, I haven’t had it as rough as this February.

 

To kick off the bad month, I borrow a friend’s car to go see friends for a get together on the other side of town. Driving in K'la the 'Pot Hole Capital of the World', the oil tank is damaged when I hit a pothole. Before I know it, all the oil has spilled out, the science of friction has done its job, and I have an engine knock on my hands. The bill amounts to $50, not to mention the night I spend at the police reception when the traffic warden literally accuses me of navigating the pot holes poorly. I miss the ‘thing’ with the boys and my cheap phone (kabiriti) I had grown fond of is arrested by the cops as an ‘accomplice’ never to be seen again.

 

A few days later, I switch on my computer and nothing happens. Upon investigation, I discover that the hard disk has thrown in the towel for no apparent reason. Which would be fine – I guess even a machine has the right to retire – except that all my data of three years is locked up on the machine. Don’t tell me about backups. Everyone knows that they should back up their data, but no body really does. I take the computer to a technician who tells me that for $20, he can ‘try’ to recover the data. I figure that my data is worth much more than that, so I pay the money. He gets the hard disk working again alright, but then, he loses all the data in the process! He then adds insult to injury by saying there is no refund for the shoddy work he has done. I’m seething with anger now and just make an exit to avoid creating a scene; after all I’m not as endowed in the muscular stakes as he is. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I get home one evening to find that burglars have invaded my room, wrecked every thing and burst a water pipe leaving the floor flooded. Every thing on the floor, which is pretty much everything if you know how much I like throwing things on the floor, is damaged. The cost? We can’t even talk about that one. And no, I didn’t have any insurance for anything. I am a true African who tends to leave things in God’s hands (I’m not very proud of that anyway).

And just when I'm thinking I've seen enough misfortunes for the month, the beloved Owino market burns to ashes so i have to wait for probably another month or so to revamp my already ageing wardrobe. A day later I'm faced with my biggest work load in the history of my rather young life in work. I'm too busy i don't eat a thing till it is 3:45 pm when even my very demanding ulcers are tired of tying to grab my attention. Right after my meal I ran into Bobi Wine and his 16 man crew of unkempt, filthy and high on a substance i can only speculate about in the hallway; i almost surrender my food to them but just get myself together. I settle at my desk, nauseating and i think I'm going to fall sick! His entourage, a pack of equally filthy riders on their scooters stay camped outside the office premises making a lot of noise and chanting slogans of the ghetto where they claim they are proud to hail from! I can't concetrate now and there is pure pandemonium as every one wants to get a glimpse of the show that has unravelled. I'm totally bored stiff. So I am grumpy and depressed about the February misfortunes? Hell no. Only last weekend, I was out partying the whole night. I mean, it is not like I have lost a leg or something.

 

Still I will be glad to see Feb go. The only good thing that happened to me in the entire month is some girl who decided that I wasn’t ‘lucky’ enough for her liking and took a walk just before the 14^th, promising to see how next month would pan out, then take a step further after that.

Now that is something to smile about

Dining Solo

Every so often I have to eat out. These occasions are rare and far between for no other reason than that I don't enjoy them.

You walk into a restaurant and look around for for a table set for one. In your dreams! So you settle for a table set for two, hopefully in a corner. Of course everyone is watching and wondering....then the waiter comes up to you and asks if you want to order the immediately or wait for....You pretend you didn't hear the last part and ask for the menu. Since you have no one to talk to, unless there is a television screen, you idly watch the other diners who are trying hard not to stare your way as you wait for the food. Starring back doesn't help-I tried.

Now I carry a book and bury my nose in it till the food arrives and through the meal. Alternatively, I take some work with me and you would be amazed how much concentration I can put into it. Also, it offers a plausible reason for the solo dinner-work pressures.

I ask for and pay the bill when I am half way through, so I can flee once I am done eating.

Bottom line: Eating alone in a restaurant is depressing.

Coming Unstuck Part 2

A sequel to the most comprehensive guide to getting out of sticky situations.

You're stuck with the bill
OK you've chosen to storm the Emin Pasha with this girl who could easily pass for your sister (you look disturbingly alike), of course with the insane hope of scoring later on. The tasty food you've consumed has connived with the bill to deny you the little credibility you might have achieved through the date. Avoid the drama that may ensue. You can avoid this altogether by uttering a single sentence the second the bill touches the table: 'do you want to split this evenly?' Tried it in fifth grade and it didn't work but since every body's in a recession, the brains may be AWOL making it worth the try!

A porn flick is stuck in your video player
One silly man i know once wrecked a $699 VCR so he wouldn't have to pay a $4 late fine on The Godfather. You can do the maths. A wiser or more patient man might have fixed the problem in 20 seconds. Just sitch the beast off and give it time to re-initialise or just visit fixer.com and get graphic detail on how to open it up. Or rather wreck the TV set, it gives you an extra day not to get caught!

Your zip is stuck
Yell out 'ouch' if it has anything to do with southerly skin. The rest is for you to figure out since they say experience teaches best! My painful remedy is to drop some hot wax on the zip to lubricate it.

You are stuck in the middle of a fight
Why would you be there anyway? But now that you are dont grab one bloke saying 'dont swing'. it is the worst thing you can do in a fight, because you're giving a clear shot to the other person, which your most likely to do anyway. Well just run for your life, update your insurance policy then call the medics to retrieve what may be left of the fighters'.