Men to so and most definitely avoid 2011 by Mary Muthoni Kariuki
The only thing I remember about the first part of 2010 was that I was a fourth year at UoN. But there are some men I encountered in 2010 that I and other women should avoid come 2011, because even if there were the last men on God’s green earth then every woman’s prayer should be. “Lord, take me as I am.”
First, Men ask you out for lunch then ask for a kiss afterwards. At times, it’s actually out of the blue. That includes men who ask for “a passionate kiss on the lip as friends.” Who are they kidding such does not exist. Who informed these freaks that I love exchanging saliva for no good reason anyway? If you want to be hated for life, ask for a kiss. Anyway the last thing I want is your disgusting saliva is the last thing I want in my mouth. Men who give you their sexual history and hope I will do the same. If we are not in relationship, I don’t care. Plus who told that actually makes you seem honest. Men who ask. “I hope you are a good girl.” I doubt God put me on this earth to prove a point to any man. God forbid that there comes a day when I have to explain my ‘goodness’ to a man. It’s like he is asking me. “Are you a loose woman?” That’s degrading. What do you expect me to say? “I am.” Men, there is no perfect woman out there. Men who insist on giving me advise on what men want. Dude I did not ask for your advice. “Men fear you.” “You need to loosen up.” “Men like their women submissive.” If they don’t like what they are getting they should stay away. What about what I want anyway. I have my list as well. Men who assume I am a good cook because I am a woman. News flash, my whole life I have always hated cooking plus housework. Get used to it. Or call me a feminist if you want. Men who assumed housework duty is my responsibility. Again please be prepared to do your own cooking, ironing, washing because when I was born I did not come with a manual titled. “How to do your man’s laundry 101.” Men who approach my relatives and then still come to me. Please men, I know evolutionists would have us believe we are part of the extended animal kingdom and hence your tendency to behave as such, you know goats or cocks on heat. From experience that is not a pretty sight. So since all my relatives and I live in the same area, if you approach my sister, cousin, niece, whatever please stay away from me. Chasing after every skirt you see is not cool. That was actually my next point, men who chase after every skirt they see. A guy approaches you and you are on cloud nine until you realize that he has approached like twenty women that all know and has used the same lines on them too. Looser! Men who are married or have girlfriends or partners. If 2010 has taught me one thing is that such men are on the prowl all the time. With rings on their index finger, but no shame in their hearts they’ll proudly tell you. “If I had known you existed I wouldn’t have gotten married.” Yet ten years down the line they will still be married with three kids. Or “I am your dream guy.” Showing you a picture of their son, Or in actual sense they have a girlfriend, you know it, they know it, but still want waste your time. Girl you will always be on the loosing end at the end of the day apart from the fact that you really need to respect. Older men who are lets say in their thirties and all they want is to marry you regardless of the fact that you don’t love them. Because they are desperate to marry any woman, all they can see is you pregnant. Get someone your own age. I am not as dumb as you think. This also applies to men in their late twenties the desperate kind who date form four leavers, pay their college fees then end up getting dumped for someone younger. Men never pay fees for a girl unless you have permission from her father. Also there is nothing as bad as dating a man who is talking about commitment and you are in school and trying to sort out your life. Men who stop you in the streets of Nairobi to ask for your number or just to tell you that you look very beautiful, It would take God for me to respond to such. They freak me out. Men who snuggle up too closely to your body on buses and queues because they are psychos and they want to satisfy themselves using you. They are the worst kind. Men who think I am dumb or expect me to act dump and pretend I don’t know football. Men with fake vibe. “Come to house and make me tea baby.” “Idiot.” That’s all I have to say to you looser. No matter how cute you are it won’t work. “I have been waiting for you my whole life.” “Well Mister, I haven’t.” Men who thinks they understand everything about a woman’s physiology. Oh please the last thing I want to talk to you about is my monthly period. Recently I was angry because a man had looked down on me, yet a certain fool thought it was that time of the month, and he let me know it with a goofy smile on his face. I wasn’t impressed. Or when in the heat of Turkana, a colleague thought it was that time of the month again. I wasn’t impressed. Wait is there a woman who is impressed by talking about her monthly period to a man. It’s a woman thing, let it be. Men who talk about rape. I hate that, it’s creepy and scary and it actually makes me suspicious about such men. I don’t know about you ladies but I have had two or three guys, who claimed they were interested in me, telling me about women who were raped out of nowhere. Trust me, that didn’t go anywhere. Scaring a woman doesn’t build a relationship. One actually told me about gang rape and that’s all he would tell each time he saw me. That’s the number one man to avoid. Lastly, men who gossip, look boy if your friends think they are way better than I am then may be you should date them. Sadly I don’t care what they say about me, and if you believe them, then you are so not the guy from me.
Women stay away from such men and you will be happy come tomorrow, men stay away from me if you are any of the above. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Nevertheless, a heart stopped beating that day, a heart that had beat so loudly only a few seconds before, a joyous heart, one that leapt and beat a tad louder that most hearts, a heart full of dreams, a ‘dreamer’, so they called her, if she would have known how painful her death would have been she would never have attempted to go down the path that had lead to such an agonizing demise, its not like she had not died so many times before in the last decade or so.
And a painful death it was indeed, death from a wound inflicted in the house of her friend, her partner, had it been an enemy or better still a stranger that had sought to destroy and kill her, maybe it would not have been as painful as it felt in those dying moments. He had mercilessly raised his knife nay a dagger, or better still a double edged sword and driven it through her heart, not once, twice would have been acceptable but he had done it over and over again, her resigned daze firmly fixed on eyes that were set on destroying everything that she had worked so hard for. With every strike the pain ceased, a rather numbing feeling filled her mind as drifted into the unknown, finally slipping into the darkness that had surrounded her brief and miserable married life, she could clearly see it quickly engulfing not only her heart but every thing and everyone and that ceremony was fading into the darkness as well, it was like she was not there anymore, like she was hearing his voice from a distance.
BUT THEY LIED! There was no bright light at the end of the tunnel, just eternal darkness, there was no peace finally, just eternal condemnation in her heart and mind that made her whole body feel rather sore.
Jackie thought of what they would say at her funeral. “A bright young woman.” “A hardworking girl indeed.” She pictured, a grey haired, tall man, who walked with a limp and his back bent, an effect of the very trait that the daughter had inherited. Over the past decade she had involved herself in so many business ventures all that greatly succeeded, only for her to stop half way to make room for Anthony’s career. Every step he climbed on the ladder of success, she seemed to go down ten steps.
Such true but incomplete statements, if only they had the courage to say it. “A young bright woman, who was foolish enough to give up the scholarship of a lifetime to study abroad in one of the best universities in the world for a man who thought she wasn’t clever enough,.”
Then her old father would say. “A hardworking but naïve girl, who could have built empires, ruled nations, conquered the hearts of men and women but she didn’t.” she could feel the tears in his voice; she could see the mourners nod in agreement. What a tragic end to a heart that was hopeful to the very end.
Ten years earlier everything seemed to be going according to plan, she had highly excelled in the national examinations, at that point the petite, dark seventeen year old was the talk of their estate, her high school principal was so pleased with Jackie that he used all his connections to secure her a scholarship abroad at one of the best universities in the world and they had readily accepted her. “What are you going to study?” her pastor had asked her after the three hour long service. “Law!” she had answered ecstatically.
That was until Antony came along, an everyday guy, college educated, luck seemed to be on his side because he seemed to be landing very good jobs. She saw him once and her young heart was smitten by him, she dived in head first, there was no reasoning to logic when it cane to Antony. “It’s only four years.” Her father tried to sway a heart convinced of love to no avail. “Father,” she reasoned with wisdom. “He is going to educate me. There are universities right here in Kenya.”
“Has you father abdicated his role of paying your fees to him.” An angry mother retorted at her stubborn daughter. “We certainly do not need his help in paying your fees.” Their pleas fell on deaf ears, the charm of a twenty seven year old man, with a few thousand shillings in his account overrode the voice of truth and Jackie eloped, rather moved in with Antony, to everyone’s dismay.
“Anto.” She held the admission letter close to her heart a few months later. “It’s Law again.” She waved the letter excitedly in the air. “It’s for this coming September.” Antony didn’t look that excited, as a matter of fact he went on reading the newspaper as if she had said nothing. “Sweetie,” he folded his newspaper neatly. “I am also joining university the evening programme for B-com.” “That’s great, we can both…” “No!” he shot her suggestion down as he would do for the next ten years. “I need you to stay at home at least for the next four years, until I am done and then you can go to school.” He started, on noticing the element of surprise in her face, he proceeded to convince her. “I will open a business for you so that you can keep yourself busy as I study.”
At that point she should have ran back to her parents and begged for their forgiveness for being the prodigal daughter, but sweet nothings won over solid evidence.
Four years later, she still dreamt of owning her own law firm despite being a wife and a mother of one while expecting another. She still hoped for great things despite being disowned by her father. Running a small kiosk near their rented flat, which in a matter of months she had transformed into a big duka, her savings were growing and she had found a partner to help her set up a Supermarket, and just when she was about to hit the jack pot, Antony was transferred to another district.
“Let’s go.” He managed to easily convince. “I will support you to open another shop.” She went on and followed her husband at first begrudgingly, but she truly loved her husband and was willing to set aside everything and follow him even to the depths of the earth, in the darkest abyss that her life seemed to be, she followed, thinking it was his hand she was holding. Her second hand business prospered again, but Antony insisted that she needed to stay at home and take care of the family of five, while he traveled far and wide to do business; he provided everything, for them. Their children attended privately owned schools; the arrangement seemed to work, until Antony graduated with a Masters Degree. Jackie organized for the best party her husband’s money could afford her. Prominent people were invited; they came in state of the art vehicles, bearing gifts that only the affluent could afford to pronounce the names. As for the food, the outside caterer’s hired spared no cent, sweet aroma of Mukimo, fried and roast chicken, chapati, nyama choma among other delicacies filled the air of an otherwise cloudless afternoon.
But as the blue sky turned gray and gray gave in into darkness an aura of imminent betrayal filled Jackie’s heart as he rose to give his graduation speech, it was like he had chosen a sharp dagger ready for his evil deed as he flashed a cheeky but rather beckoning grin at a young woman, seated a few metres away from the high table, sending a freezing chill down Jackie’s spine. The very woman Jackie had gotten accustomed to seeing, because she had been Antony’s classmate ever since he was an undergraduate, tall almost like Antony, light skinned, and had really large dimples that filled her cheeks whenever she laughed, used to be really slim until five years earlier when she had given birth to her five year old daughter, who sat net to her at her husband’s graduation party.
As Antony took the stand it was like a veil was lifted from her eyes, and she could see Antony for who he really was. He wasn’t her better half, rather he was the whole. Marriage was not the union of two becoming one rather one becoming the other. Two halves was just a myth, there had just been the one and the one was Anthony. She had given up so much of herself eventually losing her self in Antony. It had been all about him not them, there was no them, all the sacrifices had been about him, for him. The cold bitter truth struck her hard, tearing painfully into her heart. So that when Anthony asked Lisa to stand, Jackie was ready up. “And now introducing the third pillar of our family.” The knife sank deeper into her heart, the pain was now unbearable, and it was all too painful to swallow. “Lisa! this is my wife legally married at the AG’s office and we have lovely little Natasha to show for it.” Lisa’s dimple lit up her face and she smiled at her little five year old daughter.
He turned to introduce Jackie, but she wasn’t there anymore, he had killed her. “How could you?” she wanted to say. “I gave up everything…” But the dead tell no tales.
But it wasn’t a physical death that could have been way better; she was now the living dead. “He never asked which university I had been admitted to.” The tears gave way to a weary smile, as she packed her clothes into the old bag that she had used ten years earlier. “He never cared, he never did.” She wasn’t as enthusiastic as she had been, her dreams gone, three children, burdens bigger than she could bear, destination unknown. One thing was for sure though, she was never coming back.
And oh yes, her heart dead, never to beat again, its only memory was the sounds of a drum beating from the hills and mountains from a distance.
The hot blazing midday sun lit across the clear and cloudless blue sky, in the midst of gorges and mountains, way above the evergreen grass that seemed to actually the enjoy the scorching heat, though to any onlooker the grass seemed over grown. Lehana studied the gorges closely as her eyes slowly moved from the gorges and followed the river channel below, only stopping at the section where the river split into two. She took the last bite of her sweet banana and searched for the waste paper bag with her left hand, her brown-almost black eyes lazily followed the river channel that disappeared into the thick, dense forest, but still she could spot the river channel all thanks to the darker green trees near the river bank. She sighed in awe. “Back to work!” the husky male voice, all too familiar to her interrupted her lazy thoughts. She turned and stared at the tall, muscular, rather handsome looking young man a few steps from her rubbing his rather rough chin. Then pulled the weight of her body up from the large basalt rock she was seated on. Then gazed at the terrace below at Jelani, whose hand run through his short dark hair, as the other on lay firmly on his hip, staring right up at her standing right next to the section he had been working on for the past two weeks. “Avoiding me again?” he queried. “Why did you join us?” Lehana gazed at the leafy green tree, whose shade was a favorite for Jelani, and a company that Lehana had come to despise. Her gaze shifted back to Jelani. “I think I love the view from up here better.” “There more than down here right.” He had both hands on his waist as he teased her. “I am also sure you wanted to keep looking at him over and over again, right?” she seemed unprepared to answer that, as she glanced at the young man scribbling some notes on his blue small notebook down nervously. “I think you should mind your own business as usual.” She seemed agitated as she turned away from him. “What do you think?” his gaze was still firmly fixed on her as she turned back to face him, she quickly turned to look at Faizah who studying some artifacts under the tree with the green and brown leaves right beside Jelani, before her gaze shifted to the section that Jelani had been working on, the bright orange soil made her eyes to flinch. “I think The earthquake destroyed everything” she looked directly into his black uncertain eyes. Then looked at the terrace below his where Montez was laughing with some of the students that were helping him. “I think whatever we are looking for is down there.” “So what do you think these are? Finally his eyes took a break from searching longingly at her and moved around the vast green forest that surrounded them. “Way different time period than I…” she breathed in. “We are interested in. Jelani studied her face intently. “I think…”she rolled her eyes. ‘I know that this forest was planted around five hundred years ago, before that this area was almost desert like.” “The evidence is everywhere.” She almost shouted as her eyes wondered about. Jelani still seemed not convinced. None the less he smiled at the frustration that he could see clearly in her face. “You know, you are a very difficult woman.” He said in a matter of fact kind of way. Lehana just rolled her eyes at him. “I think for a man you like to be soothed too much.” He chuckled. “I think I am the man who can handle you with the care you deserve.” His dirty hands ran through his almost brown t-shirt. “Lehana! Jelani!” Nathan’s husky voice stopped her before she could reply to Jelani. “Get back to work.” He ordered them with a smile directed towards her. She smiled back. Lehana picked up the small shiny silver trowel that she had become accustomed to, and knelt down staring at her section. She could see Nathan’s light hairy legs across the other side of her section. “Scientific study of the past by usage of ancient techniques.” She joked as she looked up at him. “That’s the only thing that hasn’t changed, Leakey used them and hundreds of years later, we are still using them.” She raised her trowel a bit for him to see with her gaze firmly fixed on him. Jelani joined in the fun as well as he waved his trowel at Nathan. “Enough!” he ordered them. “I am in charge.” He turned to Jelani. “Mind your own terrace business, I’ll mind mine.” He turned to Lehana. “As for you Miss.” She jumped up playfully. “I see you have a lot of energy left.” He mused. “Are you done with your section?” “Yes.” She proclaimed. “Up to the drawing part.” “No context sheets yet.” He asked. “None.” “Use my lap top to do that.” He moved around to her side as Jelani watched, a little bit of envy filling his eyes. “You can also clean it up a bit for a photo please.” He looked around for a brush. “There’s a brush.” He turned to the brown eyed girl who was still staring at her. “Hmmm.” His long arms ran through his thick blonde hair. “The sun is rather hot today.” She shrugged. “I think its okay.” He moved closer towards her for a further inspection of her section. “Looks good.” Almost bumping into her. “Sorry.” He smiled nervously. “Clean it up.” He feigned toughness. “Yes sir.” she almost stood at attention. Nathan walked away with a chuckle, she smiled as well as she watched the tall figure walking away from her, then she lowered herself into the section, only to find Jelani staring at her.
“Are you interested in Nathan?” Jelani asked Lehana as he hurriedly walked back to camp. Lehana just made a discontented face at him as she struggled to keep up with his pace, through the bush in a narrow rocky and dusty path as they made their way towards the river. But the weight of the bag she was carrying would not let her. “I asked you a question.” Jelani’s black eyes widened in anticipation. “Jelani!” she started only to stop wincing in pain, she held on to her right knee, as she gazed at the small thorn tree that had pierced through her beige polyester trousers. “Are you in love with Nathan? Jelani totally ignored her pain as he stopped at a distance. He shifted the file he was carrying to his other hand and turned. “We are just friends.” Lehana balanced her injured leg on the ground slowly. “So you and Nathan are…” Jelani tried to decipher her statement. “No, you and I.” she corrected him, as she adjusted the weight of her heavy bag on her bag. Jelani gave her a mean look and walked away.
Nathan found Lehana seated on a he rock by the river side. “Hello there!” he slipped right next to her with ease. “Are you okay?” he stared at the nasty cut just below her knee. “Very!’ she quickly pulled her trouser downwards. There was awkward silence for a while; Lehana gazed across the clear cool flowing water, trying to avoid the blue eyes that were now staring at her. “You carried some samples I see.” He glanced at the heavy bag right beside her. “Better now than later.” She answered. “Only that there are not from our terrace.” He sounded factual. “I got duped.” She admitted giving a smile. He smiled back. “So have you decided yet.” he threw his hands in the air animatedly. “Is this it?” Her face seemed expressionless. “I don’t know yet, at times it seems like my father wants me to carry on with my mother’s work.” “Your mother was a ‘great’ in this field.” Nathan filled her in. “She has discovered a lot of remains that can be dated back to before the great earthquake arousing more interest in finding it.” “I have some photos of her in some of those sites if you want to look at them,” suddenly she seemed to gain interest. “They are in laptop in you want to see them, I can show you later.” “I’d love that.” he replied swiftly, as he dusted way a small brown ant on his navy blue shorts. The expression on his face changed. Lehana could see the single line on face that showed up whenever he was worried. “Still you are here alone Lehana, after what happened to Janice.” There was a serious intonation in his voice. “You know it’s not safe.” Her heart began pounding against her chest as it had done for many nights. “You know the beast is no longer imaginary.” His words made her feel uneasy, her eyes wandered around with ease as she remembered the awful growls that had characterized her nights. “Maybe it’s a creature from the past.” his voice sounded a far off. “From before the earthquake, we might not be able to locate whatever we are looking for, especially if there’s more than one of them.” She swallowed hard, whatever it was, it had come back with one mission to destroy them…
My area has some of the best schools in the country, and if I were not mistaken, I would say it had the largest concentration of top performing public secondary schools in the country. It has only one national school, it’s boy school, one of the most famed school in the country, our house happens to be right next to it and it is a school that I love very much, not because of the boys, don’t get me wrong, back when I was a child rural urban migration had not taken its toll on the city and the school allowed the land owners who were predominantly farmers to farm in the schools expansive land, and keep the produce, I don’t know any of the students and they don’t even know what the area surrounding their school is called, other than the name of the school, I doubt they know any other thing. I have explored the schools a lot, because it has always been open to me and I must say I love it very much.
Also we have two provincial schools, one for the girls, and another for the boys, the former, I would see daily from my primary school, as we were playing. It was never my first choice, I have always hated it, ever felt that a school was so close and yet so far away, physically there but many provinces away. Whenever I walk past the school, the gate is always closed, you can never see a student at any time of the day or night, yet their dormitories are storied and their windows are always open, it’s like a ghost school. They must really study a lot because it is the best girl school I know of.
The other school, though a boy school, I love it terribly, the students are mostly from around and a few from up country, I have interacted with them severally they are full of life and they always make me laugh. There are also several districts schools.
Sadly I am not in any of these schools, I should have been but they have no room for me, some because of my gender others because of my results, and boy didn’t I fail in my KCPE exams, I wasn’t anywhere near the mark that would have afforded the luxury to study in one of these fenced schools, that have a nice K-apple fence and a metal gate that has been boldly written the name of my school which should have been in existence for the last forty years, with a postal address, and a telephone number. A school with ample space and has room for dorms, classrooms, offices and fields where the students could play games or just relax. A school with a watchman at the gate to prevent unwanted visitors from coming in, and teachers that had the necessary qualifications, a school that I would be ashamed of mentioning among my peers, because whenever I do, they laugh at me, or at my school, it is so embarrassing, I prefer to avoid them most of the times or just
smile at their insulting jokes towards my school.
I don’t blame myself for failing my KCPE, it’s not like I had anything to do with the free primary education, the big people just introduced it, they never thought of increasing the classes or the number of teachers, we were a classroom of forty eight student at the City Council school I was in, but when the announcement was made, I realized that area was very over populated, the school ratings dropped from being the top fifty in the whole country to being top nothing, and our hopes for ever joining a good school were drained away. The teachers had no time to follow students who had failed around or make them do extra work as they did in the past. They only had time for those who could pay for the extra tuition, I told my father about it and he insisted that the government had declared that the education was free; he could not and would not pay. So I failed in my exams, there are those who passed under those horrid but I wasn’t among them, guess I
am not one of those naturally clever students.
That’s how I ended up in the River of Hope High School, a school started by the secretary to the National School in my area, the school is constructed on less of a quarter of an acre piece of land, there is only one stream for each form. No offices in the mainly iron sheets school, during break time I prefer to stay inside the classroom because if we were all to go out, there would be no room left for us to move even an arm.
During the mocks chemistry practical the invigilator took pity on us and he would help with the titration, I had no idea what a burette was, or what I was supposed to do with the beaker, or what an indicator was, I could not help but feel frustrated, we had never been to the lab before, it wasn’t even a lab, our classrooms had been converted into a lab, he helped us out, he told us what to do, but even then, it was Greek to me. I still failed in that paper. I don’t blame my chemistry teacher after all he is only eighteen year old school leaver waiting for her KCSE results, he is good I must confess but his pleas for practicals to be included in the lessons and be made mandatory fell on deaf ears.
Teachers come and go as they please, did I see my shop keeper teaching me CRE, or his wife teaching me English, a language she could barely speak herself, I wanted to laugh but I always found myself crying, as for the math’s teacher, we are the ones teaching him most of the time. The other day, I was showing him how to solve a simple simultaneous equation.
The KCSE is only a few weeks away. I don’t dream of becoming a doctor or a nurse, lawyer, engineer and the rest. I want to go to University so that I can learn to be a leader, because there is a lot I want to do for my home area. But I am scared, I am not sure whether the principal has registered us to sit for the exams or it slipped his mind again and used the money to take his wife for a vacation in Mombasa as he did an year ago. I saw the hopelessness in the eyes of the candidates, they screamed, cried, others laughed in disbelief as they realized that the hopes and dreams for a better life had vanished right before their very eyes. The officials told them to wait for one year, but we all knew it was over. Only one came back, the rest married and got married, they became housewives and guards for the good schools.
I had a B plain in my Mocks, I have been a good student, I only hope that I will be allowed to sit for my exams, and then pass. Am I hoping for too much?
1. I like the way the France verses South Africa referee was insisting on showing players a yellow or red card to their face, he made sure it was in their face, which included running after some hardheaded ones, in addition, raising his yellow in dramatic fashion.
2. Finally, Cristiano Ronaldo did something heroic he gave his man of the match award to his teammate Tiago. Amazing! Will the real Cristiano Ronaldo stand up? For once, he was not indulging in self-importance. Kudos Cristiano.
3. Is it me or do African teams play their best when it does not matter. As for Nigeria, Cameroon, Algeria, Ivory Coast. Next time score early. Settle the matter while the sun is still shining not when it is about to set on you.
4. At times Sub-Saharan Africa wonders if Algeria is an African team, but judging from the way they have been playing in this tournament, missing shots just in front of the goal, wide shots, and nice runs towards their opponent goals before losing possession. Verdict: 100% African.
5. From last nights play, USA looked more African than the Algerian team.
6. A lesson from Algeria, who have a local African coach, maybe the problem is not with the white over paid foreign coaches that African nations prefer, because Algeria still did not qualify. After all, even if you get a local coach, the players are still the same. Its still Samuel Etoo who threatens not to play for his country during the world cup, coaches and players need a complete overhaul.
7. For Raymond Domenech unless an angel appears to you and orders you to follow the stars, like the wise men of days past. Do not trust them.
8. The Germany team should have won white and Ghana black; after all, they are the black stars. Now they were the black stars in white jerseys. Everyone thought Germany was in white. Depending on the size of your TV.
9. Finally it is always good to see two sets of happy fans in one stadium, the Ghanaian and German fans. They all had a reason to celebrate together after their teams qualified for the knock out stage of the World Cup. On the other hand, the Australian and Serbian fans must have been fully disappointed. It only happens in the world cup.
Hilarious Referee: Alberto Undiano, The man that refereed the game between Germany and Serbia. I loved the way he was flashing the yellow cards as well as the reds, he gave to Miroslav Klose. That was entertaining.
Worst Referee: I am tempted to say the man who refereed them Ivory Coast’s match against Brazil but him he was just clueless so I will save for him that award, my fellow female fans think he might have been playing for the Brazilian team no wonder he was smiling at Fabiano telling him. “Nice hand ball.”
Best World cup goal: Etoo and Drogba that was impressive, classy and definitely world cup goal.
Worst goal: Fabiano Brazil, hands the ball twice, before firing it in and then celebrates like a hero. How do you celebrate a hand ball?
Most changed player of the tournament award: Kaka, I guess the Cristiano Ronaldo influence is affecting him negatively.
Cutest player award: 1: Giovanni Dos Santos, cute and young. From Mexico 2: Kevin-Prince Boateng of Ghana though he should get rid of the tattoos. Boring game award: Paraguay verses Italy; even the commentator was bored such that he had idea what he was saying.
Best commentator award: The man who commentated on Cameroon verses Denmark. He said that Cameroon wanted to score but they wanted to make sure that when they did, they were inside the net as well. Meaning they wanted to escort the ball inside the net as well.
Most disciplined team award: North Korea. You won’t hear from them unless they are playing.
Undisciplined team of the tournament: France, I think they get the award for cowardly team of the tournament as well. What a show? If they would have shown the unity that they are showing right now after Anelka’s expulsion from the team they would have won the world cup.
Disappointing team of the tournament: England, I feel their pain.
Exaggerated player of the tournament: Cristiano Ronaldo. He thinks we are all after him. Entertaining match award: Brazil verses Ivory Coast. There was drama, and the match was beautifully played. Idiot award: Goes to Kaitu of Nigeria, for showing us how to let a team down.
Maybe the reason why England, Germany, Italy, Portugal, and France are underperforming in the world cup is because they all colonized African nations. The spirit of our forefathers will not let them have an easier time and they are sabotaging the games in retaliation for what their forefathers did decades ago. Solution: They need to hold a national prayer, repentance and reconciliation prayer meeting maybe then the spirits can be appeased. The players spell might be broken. With France that might be different its Northen Ireland and Africa spirits they have to appease.
Also they are numerous witch doctors in South Africa calling themselves Sangoma’s maybe they should visit them so that they can be cleansed.
Seriously now, may be the big lessons for the supposed big nations in football should not, is that they are in Africa, and what the world cup in trying to teach them is that we are all the same, football speaking.
Some big names is football are ruining the beautiful game for us. I guess that is what you get for overcharging fans to get into a football stadium and overpaying players and turning them into demy-gods.
I am planning to petition to FIFA so that they can allow me to host the 2011, last 32 ranked teams world cup. Who knows there might play better football that the best thirty two are. I am hoping they can allow Somalia to host it. Some of the pirates have assured me that they have enough money to host a better world cup than South Africa.
I tried listening to a world cup match live on Radio Jambo I had to switch to KBC idhaa ya taifa. It was horrible. The commentators spent more time reading smses rather than telling us what was going on the pitch. As well as sending fathers day salamu to their children. I was appalled. Is it that the match between Italy and New Zealand was boring or that these two commentators are not fit to be on radio. They should have commentated on the match then read the smses during halftime or after the match.
Maybe KBC have not noticed but rarely does their sound and pictures coordinate. Hence killing the buzz of the game. But we appreciate the effort.
Not to worry for the African players and teams, 2014 will still be another African world cup outside of Africa. After all Brazil has the largest number of blacks outside Africa.
African teams should learn a thing or two from the Mexican player, Giovanni Dos Santos. He may not have scored but he attacked plenty well.
Enyemma the Nigerian goal keeper may blame the ball for a poorly played match by his teammates. We blame Kaitu, and his teammates for lacking spirit and passion, and letting all of Africa down.
Steven Garrard, you haven’t run out excuses, there was a bird on one of the goal posts. Take my advice visit a witchdoctor. That bird was to blame for your lose. Man of the match for the Brazil Ivory coast match was: The referee.
The New Zealand national football team is called All Whites, while their Rugby team goes by the name: All blacks. Ironic!
I suggest Maradona should have stripped naked in 1986 when his country won the world. He was cute back then and his body was in much better shape than it is right now.
I don’t think I have enjoyed a world cup as I am enjoying the African world cup. It’s been amazing. So far I haven’t missed a match. During the 2006 world cup, as I was watching the matches, I thought they were great and well played out. As usual I was supporting all the African teams plus Portugal. Now I am only supporting the African teams only, and one after the other they are breaking my heart. Exams should scare me and that feeling of when the lecturer or teacher walks in with the exam and your stomach is filled with water, you are shaking like a leaf on a cold winter morning, like the winter the players in South Africa find themselves in, and your heart misses a bit. As the lecturer places that paper back side first, your heart beats faster, you want to turn it and see what the teacher has set for that paper. That’s how I have been feeling whenever I watch a match where an African team is playing, More so, a black team. I want them to win so badly. I can hardly wait for the game to start. And when it starts, I am shaking like a leaf, especially when the opposing team makes an attack towards our goal. If they score like Nigeria did I want the time to move so first so that we can celebrate together, when they start to loose as Nigeria and South Africa did, it makes my heart begin to race. I am still optimistic that they can still do it. When they play as badly as Cameroon do, it breaks my heart.
I want Africa to win the World cup badly, and by Africa I mean sub-Saharan Africa. I want South Africa, Nigeria, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Cameron, and Algeria to win and to get somehow ahead in this world cup. But one by one they are breaking my heart.
I wonder do the Africa players in South Africa know how much I am sacrificing to watch these games. I don’t think I have ever given much attention to anything in my life as I am doing to the South African world cup. That should change. Yet I am a final year student, in Kenyan public University. Do they know that I have exams in two weeks times, my final exams in campus but my heart will not let me think about that? I have to watch the world cup. Usually the excitement grips me one hour prior to kick. Right now my heart skips a bit and I am anxious, because the next will determine whether South Africa makes it to the next round or nor. France and Mexico, may God hear the hearts of the Africa people who are hopeful and are not asking for much. A quarter finals appearance will do for me, for others a semi-final will do.
Ghana, South Africa, Nigeria, Ivory Coast, Cameroon and Nigeria should know that Africa is not asking that they win they world cup. We only want them to play their hearts out for Africa. We want to see them play the beautiful African game where the ball is made of several paper bags and strings, the grounds is the road next door, or the dusty road outside your house, at times barefooted with your whole heart in it.
Anyway in 2006 I enjoyed watching the world cup in Germany, but I kept on telling myself 2010 is coming. Africa’s time is coming and I am going to enjoy every minute of it. For four years, I have been waiting for this world cup that is why I watching every match I can, watching the sports news, so I can see the highlights of the matches I have already watched, and hating on Uruguay and Greece in the meantime.
Poor Cristiano Ronaldo, he thinks that every other player is out to hurt him. Someone should tell him, he might be the most expensive player in the world but that does not give him the right to brag. Its very annoying, a man who brags. How do all the women who he has dated stand him?
Two African teams down, four to go. Who is next on the football slaughter house? Go Africa. For Fabio Capello and all the other players who are complaining about the ball, nicely named ‘Jabulani,’ here’s some tips. ‘Jabulani’ means ‘rejoice’ I know that from the song. ‘Jabulani Jabulani Africa*8’ So this ball must have been designed to be a happy, jumpy ball in the excess. A nice loving ball, like the African people, the only teams that can handle it must be equally happy and loving. Cristiano Ronaldo no matter how many times you dive and scream and get angry, you won’t score. The spirit of the Jabulani ball will not let you, the players must be happy and have no ill or negative vibe if they want the ball to respond in a good way. Like the Germans or Argentina they must let go of all the anger in their heart and embrace good thoughts then maybe they might succeed with Jabulani. Alaternatively Jabulani like the rest of Africa is rejoicing.
Go Africa! Or whatever is left! Go vuvuzela go!
I have seen a couple of boring matches but Paraguay and Italy top the list. I was sleeping.
Marcelo Lippi thinks that he can win the world cup using the same team he used in 2006, does that mean that England will loose too after all the have stuck to majority of the players who like missed all their penalties in 2006, like Jamie Carragher… but I am not naming names. Besides Marcelo, hope you don’t mind if I call you that, a lot has changed since 2006, for instance your players are four years older, they can’t run that fast. The venue has changed too, how have the fans that prefer to use the delightful vuvuzela that sing in endless boring chants that are common in Europe. African fans very creative, may the vuvuzela live for a 1001 world cups.
Maybe the reason Europe and America are complaining about the vuvuzela is because they did not invent it themselves. That must really disturbing for them they are so used to inventing everything. Sorry!
Sir just because they won in 2006 doesn’t mean they will win in the African world cup. That’s like saying England will loose.
Three teams I would love to see out of the world cup soonest: - • England • Uruguay • Greece The sooner the leave Africa the better.
I have an idea of why African teams are doing poorly in the world cup, they use foreign coaches. I hope by the time you are reading this Coach Perreira is on his way to Brazil, and Sven Goran Erickson is on his way back to Europe. 2014 lets invest in our own coach, and discipline among our players.
African teams may not win the world cup, but they definitely win the award ‘for nice to look at stuff award.’ Especially Ivory Coast and Nigeria, it’s had not to look behind. Their assets speak for themselves. They make the other players look like a letter 11. They win that 8-0.
Hottest team: Ghana: Go-o!
Hottest Player: Asamoah Gyan, you go! The African women are behind you a hundred percent.
When a man says that he wants to get married after seven years, what he is actually saying to the woman is. “You are not the one.” I have a guy friend, in 2008, in the sixth year of a relationship with his high school sweetheart, they had been dating ever since they were seventeen, six year later, the guy is done with campus so I ask. When in the wedding (2008). He says one more general election to go, that’s five years later, five plus six, eleven, that same year they had already broken up. We have been dating for five years, what are you waiting for get married. After two years together, you are just wasting each others time. If a guy has such plans, it means you are just a by the way. Just passing time together, though its pretty wasteful for the party that is broken up with.
Personally, after one year, that’s a lot, after six months. You need to lay out the basic reasons for your relationship. Otherwise, he or she might be wasting the good years of your youth.
“I was praying and God revealed you… I had a dream where God showed me that you would make a good wife.” Means: He is a very scared man, don’t marry such. He’s afraid of speaking his mind. “She said yes, but I am still waiting for a revelation from God.” Ladies it actually means that he might really not like you. Biblically speaking, you pray before not after, when Adam saw Eve, he did not pray, he went after her. I think, such men give the bible and God a bad name. To slow to act, and undecided, if you are wanting for one, know that such fear rejection and they might take a couple of years to get round to asking you.
I have known a couple of Christian guys who I was into, but by the time the came to asking, neither party was interested.
“Lord is she the one? I like her but I don’t know about spending the rest of my life with her, she doesn’t seem straight to me, look at how she is dressed.” Jacob knew he loved Rachel and he wanted to be with her, there’s no thinking about the ‘what’s and if’s’. Other wise, this guy is having serious doubts about you or me. And for the campus girls, guys are always asking us. “You are not like other campus girls are you?” Of course I am. I am in a campus and that makes me a campus girl. Plus if you think I am loose and money minded and have slept with every other guy that I met, and Koinange is like my bedroom, please leave me alone; there are other girls, millions in Kenya that you can date.
But this is the introduction men expect from us. “Hi, I am Anna, a virgin from the University of Nairobi, a good mannered girl, a character like none other, despite being a student at the University of Nairobi.” I am not in the habit of advertising myself.
“Football is more important than my wedding day or the day that my child was born,” is another way of saying. “I am mean, I value nothing and I don’t deserve anything good in life.” Or “I need help to decide on what is of value in my life and what is not, like football,” hey Arsenal fans relax, take a deep breathe, and you don’t have to kill yourself. It’s not heroic; no one will remember you for it. They will not hold a minute of silence for you. But they will marvel at your stupidity.
I bet Jacob Zuma’s favourite footballer in South Africa is Cristiano Ronaldo, a man after the very heart of Zuma. I South Africa’s president has a lot of questions to ask Cristiano and John Terry. From Zuma to Cristiano:- • It seems keeping them as girlfriends is better that having them as wives. • Congrats! You are doing a lot to improve international relations, having dated from England, USA, Spain and now Russia. How do you do it?
At the end of it, I think Cristiano should sign for a club in SA.
From Cristiano Ronaldo to Zuma • When I grow old I want to be like you, still attracting the babes. • I want to have the wives, the girlfriends and the fiancée’s living under the same roof, what is your secret. I doubt Cristiano Ronaldo is the only one who admires Zuma, John Terry must be a fun too. Since he and Zuma are masters at how to torture your first wife and get away with it. True Zuma and Terry must be a constant headaches to their wives with their constant sexual exploits.
For JT, a few tips on how to be a ‘player’ and not lose your position of power while at it may be of much help to John Terry. Nice world cup every one.
1. Of Bad Habits It’s who I am, I tell it as is. That is totally fake, what they are actually saying is, I need psychological help, I have an identity crisis PLEASE HELP ME!
The ‘I tell it as it’ simply put is that the person in question is rude and they don’t want to do anything about it. Shame!
“I am opened minded” is simply another way of saying I am confused. So for the students of English, Open minded and confused can be used interchangeably.
“I will know when I get there,” It only means that you are lost and you need all the help you can get in finding your way in life. It also means you haven’t thought much about your life.
“I want a man who is tall dark and handsome or I want a very beautiful woman for a wife.” Means: You are not pretty yourself, or handsome. Beauty is not something you possess. People always want what they are not.
“Let me pray about it.” Men this actually means: - 1. Even though, I have never thought about you, you might be a good plan B. 2. You are not the only one in the picture and I am afraid that if I say yes to you I might lose out on the one I truly love. 3. The thought of getting married to you or being in relationship with you is too scary, and I need all the strength I can before saying yes. 4. I need to beat my body into submission just to be able to say yes. God has nothing to do with it, just a battle that I have to fight with my inner self. “Our tribe is being attacked, is another way of saying; we are very foolish beyond measure. Even Annan cannot help us.
Since those shady phone dealers are not planning to give me one bob change back, then the 3499 should change to 3500, the 4999 should be 5000, while the 4449 should be 4450. Enough said.
Hope Maradona is reading this, instead of him running naked a round the capital of Argentina, he should let Messi do it instead. I am sure he looks way better than Maradona naked.
“Cute!” Theresa stared at the election campaign poster for one of the SONU candidates for the upcoming university students’ elections. It was her last in campus, but for any forth year student, elections ended in third year for them. Third year elections were special, because Theresa knew like everyone who was vying in the elections. They had all reported to school on the same day. Just because she was not voting did not prevent her from attending the refreshments full campaign meetings. After all she had paid the forced subscription fee, for the students union. It was her right to be fully refreshed. She did not shy away from a free soda.
“Posters do make them look kind of cute.” She stood gazing at the frame size picture of a light complexion guy running for the executive post. He had really nice kissable lips and she could help but want to run her hand right round them, but something inside of her stopped her. “I have already met most of you.” She spoke to the other numerous posters on the walls. “You aren’t that cute.” She smiled as she leaned closer to read the graffiti written on the supposedly cute guy’s poster. “But it does prove that there are very good photographers in Kenya. I wonder if they know they are sitting on a gold mine.”
Most of the girls she had known from her first year (since boys are immune) had changed from naïve village girls, to hyper active Nairobi girls, presently the village girls who used to do all the house work while they were in the village, could not wash their clothes, and had to have the ‘Mama nguo,’ to do their washing for them. Apparently the detergent or washing affected their hands. Maybe it was the money that they had in excess that was disturbing them. The same village girls did not wear trousers reporting to campus, but presently they did not wear skirts, unless they were really short.
“Imagine this is the only skirt I have.” One of her classmates had told her as they were coincidentally walking to class. “Imagine I kinda washed all my clothes, aki I feel so uncomfortable.”
Theresa felt like laughing, in first year the same girl who felt comfortable in skirts and judged others harshly for wearing male clothing, they did not have any trousers all she had was long plaited skirts, that she wore with matching blouses, all the time. Her accent had changed, all over sudden she spoke with a faked weng. Her hair had to be done every two weeks two. Those were some of the things that Theresa was going to remember about campus and smile, at times laugh.
At this rate it would be hard to recognize her classmate when she finally went back to her shags, That is, if she was planning to go back after the four years had come to a close. No, she wouldn’t she had already adopted an urbanite mentality, if her parents her lucky, she might visit them for Christmas. Presently this particular classmate was living with her drunkard boyfriend. Sugar daddy might have been the correct word to use, but the University society is no ordinary society, rules are different, you look at things differently, as a campus guy or girl. At no one time would you find a campus student stating that a classmate was going out with a sugar daddy, that wasn’t a term in the university dictionary. Dating was it. The funny thing that Theresa noted, that students that came from these rural places referred to them as ‘shags’ and not home.
The thing that had amazed Theresa a few days after joining campus, walking around the halls of residence, and seeing buildings occupied by her peers, watching them walking around had made her heart to be filled with awe. It occurred to her that she was living in a community of close to five thousand students that were her age mates. A society that symbolized freedom and success, it made her feel great, like she had achieved more than she could ever imagined in her life. Like there was no greater success like being a student in the University of Nairobi. Well that was short lived, after a few weeks being in class, she ended up a frustrated student. It was this great community that made them change, because they had to change so as to fit in.
Over the next few days in her new world, it was obvious, you needed new outfits and shoes every now and then so as to fit in, the best place of purchase being Ngara, where you can get a second hand shoe for a thousand two hundred shillings, to the delight of many campus girls.
“But it’s a good deal.” The girls would defend herself. “Look at the shoe, it’s so beautiful.” As a fourth year she was not planning to vote, there was no need after all she would be out of school in a few weeks.
Her time in the land of freedom was over. It was time for third years to experience the adrenaline rush that accompanied SONU elections, as well as the drama that made life in campus rather interesting, at times it was like living in a small replica of the Kenyan society. Everything that symbolized the entire nation could be found there. Tribalism, corruption, mainly in the student union, buying your way into anything worthwhile that you wanted, added to the frustration that the average student every day from most aspects of being a regular university student.
Third year was a special year for a BA student, it’s like when you realized that you are a campus student and you matter the most especially since the fourth years were leaving and they always acted like they did not belong any more. Anyway, they were too concerned with getting jobs, finding spouses, looking for houses, moving in with boyfriends and girlfriends that they did not love for financial reasons, than acting like the rest of campus students. They were scared of going out into the real world. With one foot outside campus and in the real world, every day they acted less like campus students and more like men and women in society. Soon it would all be but a memory.
Had campus changed her? Off course it was hard to pass through the University of Nairobi and come out the same. She had changed; her beliefs had changed, the way she thought had changed changed. She came in a nineteen year old girl and had left a twenty three year old young woman. She came in single, now she was leaving campus with her boyfriend, her first year boyfriend. In as much as she had heard that campus relationship never worked and that campus guys never married campus chicks, it seemed to be rather different for her and Jason, four years later they were still together. Jason had suggested that they moved in together after school was over, then they could go and visit her parents later.
“Where do I tell my parents that I am staying?” She asked him. “With a girlfriend.” Jason replied. Its not that he did not love her, he loved her a lot, over the years that they had been together, they had been times that they almost broken up. In second year he had been involved in an affair with another girl. He was tired of their relationship since it seemed to have stagnated. When Theresa found about out about it, she broke off with him, it was then that he realized that it was Theresa he wanted after all, he fought hard to get her again. It took him a whole semester and a long holiday to get her back. He loved her but if they went to her parents, yet he did not have any money for a church wedding or for dowry. Jason was a Christian, but over the years it seemed that as Theresa’s faith grew, his seemed to be waning. “We are going to get married eventually but I don’t have a job yet Tess.” He confided in her. “I know.” Theresa said to him. “But I cannot lie to my parents, and I know they will not approve of us living together.” “He seemed dejected. “What do you say?” “Let’s wait.” She said. “I don’t mind waiting.” He had just walked out on her. She was still waiting to hear from him.
Campus had stirred something new in her, a change that she could not resist, or prevent from taking place. Something in her had changed. She was not just Theresa a young woman, but Theresa the soon to be undergraduate from the University of Nairobi. At times it made sense to her; at times, it not did not seem to be that important to her, or any one around her, nonetheless it implied a lot. It implied that it was not the same girl that had been admitted at the University. It was a whole new Theresa.
“Sixteen thousand!” Theresa thought. “And it’s all for me.”
That sounded like a lot of money to her, she looked at her green colored ATM, and it felt great holding it in her hand. It signified a lot in her life. First, it signified that she was now a woman, a twenty year old campus student, she could now decide what to eat, when to sleep, and most of all what to do with her free time, the time that she got to her room, no more curfew. On her first trip to the ATM machine and she had to ask for help, she did know how to go about it. After she had gotten her money, she hang around the ATM, which she was shielding wither back, even though it now read:
‘Please insert our card.”
She feared that someone might be able to access her money and steal it. It is only after she had murmurs and saw a man approaching her that she walked out. Later that evening, she came to check on her account; the girl in front of her had her card stuck in the machine. Theresa felt so bad, having stood in the line for over five minutes only for it to be spoilt. The girl had not even warned them, she walked in, took her time in the ATM and rushed out scared. It’s only when Theresa tried to insert her ATM that she realized that she could not, she reported it to the people outside and one of the men went in then came back and announced that there was a card stuck inside the ATM machine. Theresa simply looked for another machine she breathed in more easily when she realized that her money was still there.
Now in forth year, she could not imagine herself, becoming like the people who were clueless about ATMs.
“Is it working anxious first years?” would ask her though she rarely answered them.
The first few days in campus Theresa just ate chips and chicken, mostly she ate in town and just came back to sleep in her room, that is not after taking a midnight snack, which consisted mainly of a smokie, a sausage a samosa and a soda. In the morning she would simple walk into town and have some tea, mandazi and a sausage. It felt great. She had quickly realized that the money was meant to last her until March, that was six months away, yet three quarter of the loan had already been wasted on food, not even clothes, her parents were shocked. The same hand outs that she was escaped from, she badly needed to see her through the reminder of that first semester.
“If only I hadn’t told them how much money I was getting for the student’s loan.” In the midst of her excitement of receiving such a huge a mount of money, she had blurted it to her family. More so her father, a typical Kikuyu man, he had already made calculations. She would be able to save up to half her loan that was according to his estimates, which were based on the cost of Ugali and Sukuma wiki or cabbage, and for breakfast tea and one mandazi.
“Kwani I am not supposed to eat meat or chicken?”
Her elder brother who happened to be a drunkard she had already loaned three thousand shillings which she had promised to return within two weeks, two weeks turned months, months had turned into years. He was yet to return the money. It was not like he was living at home anyway, after supporting his drinking habits for a number of years; it had culminated with him being chased away from home by their father. Theirs was a family of four boys and the last born girl, an apple to the father’s eye, his only daughter, named after his mother. Theresa’s mother was particularly happy after she was born, otherwise her father wouldn’t have stopped until he had a girl. The beloved daughter did not disappoint, where the boys failed to excel, she did, in her studies and socially. They all knew she was meant to do great things, and the fact that she had been the first person in her entire extended family to make it to a public university, hammered the point home.
Thought of her first day in University, it brought a feeling of nostalgia in her mind. She smiled at the life she had lived. It was her last chance to be a child, to act up, now as a fourth year prospects of getting a job, paying bills, getting married, all scared her a lot.
Living around Nairobi, you would have thought they would arrived early, by the time they got there, it seemed like half of the thousands students that are admitted to the University of Nairobi had already arrived. She looked at the ‘great institution, she knew it, she felt it.
‘This is it!”
“I am going to study hard and get a job.”
Other students might have noticed her smile, if they had not been too busy getting themselves registered as students. She felt great, she was awed. In primary school she told her friends that she wanted to attend the University of Nairobi. She did not mind doing anything to get there, she would do course. Her dream was the university, not the course but studying in Main Campus, her degree would just serve as evidence that she had been there.
“A whole new world!” her heart melted at the prospect of that thought.
This was the rest of her life, in just four years, she felt like she had an opportunity to shape her life, open up her mind in a way that no other event in her life could be able to open up her mind the way the university would open up her mind.
Theresa knew that the University would change her life for the positive she never thought that it could her life for the negative.
“I can’t accept your proposal.” She had naively said to Timothy, or Timoty as he had introduced himself in a distinctively Kisii accent.
“What is your name?” he had asked while she worked at a Simu ya Jamii.
“Muthoni.”She replied quickly. She had wished him gone as soon as he made a call.
Flash was the better word, after all she had heard the call go through, but she assumed that he was only making a conversation so that he could see whether the person he had flashed would call.
“Mutoni!” he repeated her name confidently.
Theresa was offended. “Muthoni!” she corrected him.
“Ooooh Mutoni.” He smiled thinking that he had gotten it right.
“Yes.” She forced a smile.
He did walk away, only after he had proposed to her and she had answered him. “I am going to university. I am going to meet many more men.” She did not want to restrict herself to ordinary men. She could picture herself meeting the man of her dreams in campus, a medic, may be an engineering student, they would date from their first year in campus, graduate together and then they would get married and live happily ever after.
“Five years!” she exclaimed on finding out the number of years it took for the medical and engineering students to finish campus.
“I can’t wait that long!”She thought. “I want to get married at twenty four.”
That was the age she was going to finish campus, get a job and get married.
“The graduation will be in December.” Her heart sank.
“Six months!” she felt annoyed. “Why can’t they give me my degree? Why do I have to wait for so long?”
Word was their graduation would be moved to February that scared her a lot. Why the long wait, yet in government jobs she could not apply without her degree. At times being in a public university could be very frustrating, mostly in seemed like they were out to frustrate her. If the aim of the administration was to frustrate her as frequently and often as they could during the course of the four years, they had managed to do that with perfection, at times wishing that she had attended a private university, or just flown out of the country. Unfortunately her parents couldn’t afford it.
Now with only a few days remaining, to finish school and to her twenty fourth birthday, she realized that the odds were the man of her dreams was not at the university of Nairobi and she might be able to get married at twenty four as she had always wanted.
Her illusion about campus boys quickly faded, it did not go past the registration line. For a while she had managed to deceive herself that campus boys were it, they tall, light skinned and handsome, she envisioned that they looked like a point five, a half cast between a white man and an black woman, who spoke nice English, with a nice accent, and dressed like the English premiership footballers when they off the pitch. Trendy would have been a nice word. Guys who had nice pick up lines, guys from Nairobi, but apparently the majority apparently were upcountry, the vast majority. The only time they learned to dress themselves was after campus, she did not want to wait for that long, and neither did she want a man who she would have to train like a dog to do new tricks. Seeing these guys all freshmen clad in all manner of colors made her skin to cringe, it was painful to look at them. One that she will never forget, was dressed in a light green trouser and bright blue shirt, she had no idea that they made clothes in those colors. Weren’t such colors for making paper bags or paint?
“Thank God I don’t know him.” She managed a smile.
A week later the smile was gone, they were in the same class with him. He walked into class in the same costume. Theresa felt a cold breeze blow as he passed her.
“I don’t know him: I have never seen him before.” She practiced.
Three years later it was when the outfit disappeared.
“What if it was stolen?” she joked with her friends.
“Joseph’s coat of many colors is missing.” They all laughed. “After all it was the first and last.”
Funny enough, that boy became a very good friend of Theresa. Indispensible!
Was Theresa green and fresh like most of the freshmen, she came with a decided mind of what she wanted to do. That does it mean, unlike all first years she did not get lost or try to find her way in a whole new world. Whenever Theresa was told about the immorality that filled the higher institutions, more so the street that was believed to be the prostitution streets for female students, it would scare her a lot, but she had decided NEVER to have sex in campus.
The letter of admission, that first day in campus, and mostly the love of her God, would see her through. This time unlike her first day in High school, she would not be ashamed of Christ, of the one thing that had been constant in her life. Her God!
Campus proved to an adventure, one that completely transformed her life forever, that taught her love and hate at the same time.
“I have run the race, I have fought the good fight, and now all awaits me…” those are the words that she wanted to say, the day she walked out campus, with a degree on one hand and her possessions on the other. A satisfied feeling in her heart, knowing, she had ran the race successfully because it wasn’t about winning. Did she?
In a family of four boys, and being the only girl you would think that Elizabeth would have all the time in the world to look at herself in the family mirror, one that was stationed in the verandah right after the sitting room, it invited any one coming or leaving their residence to take a quick glance at their reflection. The verandah unlike all the other areas in the house was cool, because of the breeze that the endless trees that Mark had planted blew. At that point Elizabeth gazed at her image, she often wondered how the women on TV managed to keep such a sleek figure even after giving birth to children. It always baffled her, after every child she had, her body was never the same, and it just kept on changing.
She had three children and her tummy had never been the same, it had gone from being flat, that had been one of the things that Mark had liked about her. When they had met in the market place, could not help but stare at the beautiful slim woman, who was wearing a skirt that almost fell over her knees, giving him the opportunity to glare at the beautiful long legs. Her breasts lay shyly over her chest, and her stomach was flat, he wanted to run his hands over it. And he did, after their wedding all he would do was touch her stomach, at first she assumed he was doing that to see if she was pregnant yet, a few months later when she actually became pregnant she realized that she had given him a lot of credit. He was just a typical African male, forever clueless.
Nonetheless even after the birth of their three sons, nothing ever changed for their family the love for each other increases.
After she gave birth to her second son, Elizabeth slowly began to realize that she might actually become the only girl in her family, and eventually she did, she loved every moment of it. Though her two teenage sons, Dan and Timothy actually treated her as one of the boys.
“Mom,” James would call her as she lay on the sofa, catching on some sleep, though she was pretended not to be.
“I am only closing her my eyes.” She would tell Jake her last born that had only joined class four that year. Naming her son Jake proved to be a mistake, especially in the Kenyan society, almost everyone, erroneously referred to her son as Jack.
“Kwani these people don’t watch TV.” She would roll her eyes in disdain.
Eventually she got used to it. Even Jake was now writing his name as Jack, after his class one teacher had caned him several times for not spelling his name correctly.
Maybe his name was Jack, after all, in his birth certificate, school registration, they had his name as Jack and from that day only his mother called him Jake.
“Mom.” James called his mother; they were watching a football match. She was sleeping on the sofa; the food was on the jiko in the kitchen, Timothy was cooking. They knew that if they wanted to know the food was almost ready, all they had to do was look at their mother’s nose, any sudden movement especially a twitch meant it was time to check on the food. Any sudden sound meant that the food was just about to burn, and any sudden body movement meant that the food was burnt and they had to get to it before she got up, otherwise, they would have to contend with a thirty minute lecture on ‘why you should not cook and watch TV at the same time.’ Which they hated!
She did not mind her boys watching football, anyway if she did not let them, they would hate her for life and they would keep on reminding her that she was always telling them not to watch TV, yet she was a number one fan of specific programs, namely:
Soaps.
As for her husband Mark, he was never a football man, neither were his peers, he always came home from work immediately then alongside with Elizabeth they would spend the rest of the evening talking loudly from church issues to work, making it impossible for the boys to watch TV in Peace.
“Mom.” James and Timothy exchanged a naughty look with his brother. She looked at James.
“What is Wayne Rooney doing today, did you see he missed that shot.” He would give his mother a serious look like she understood what he was blubbering about.
“Who is that?” She asked with a quizzical expression on her face.
“Ah, Mommie!” he would pretend to be dismayed. “Who doesn’t know Wayne Rooney?”
His mother would roll her eyes and go back to her sleep.
“What about Nani?” he would probe further as Timothy would anticipate his mother’s response.
“Nani?” she would open her eyes, glance at the television. “The ugly man running after the ball.”
Timothy and James would burst out laughing. They love teasing their mother just for kicks.
“There is nothing interesting about these footballers.” Elizabeth would start. The two boys would look at each other with a resigned look, once their mother began talking there was no way of getting her to keep quiet.
“They look like gunias.” She would go on to describe the footballers. “Like that worn out crate that I use to carry my vegetables to the market.”
The two boys would quickly burst out laughing.
“And yet young girls chase after them” she would sneer. “I don’t get it.”
She shakes her head in disbelief.
“Mom you are wrong.” Timothy would finally have something to say. “The reason they fall for these men, just like James here.” He would whisper the James part. Both his mother and James would give him a doubtful look. “Its because of the lines mom, Mistari.” He would stress.
“If you aint got the lines.” James would add. “You won’t get the girl.”
“I did not give birth to a gunia.” His mother would warn him. “All my children are very handsome like Ramsey Noah.”
They would both sneer.
They thought that was an insult coming from their mother, but she was always serious.
Now that the three were away in school, she could get some alone time and look at herself in the mirror. Her body had changed a lot, especially her stomach, a fact that could be attributed to her bearing of three children, Sons to be more precise. The damage they had done to her body was irreversible.
Her belief that Mark would stop loving her because of her distorted figure changed with time. He seemed to adore her even more. Their loved had grown from sexual to that of great affection and respect, With the birth of each of their child, the love that they had for each other just seemed to grow in depths.
She smiled, it was only during times like these, when Mark was away at work, James was in college, Timothy was in boarding school and Jake was safe in class at a nearby primary school that she could afford to steal a mirror moment and see the changes that her body had gone through. On an ordinary day, it all started with her Maasai husband, Mark, he would get up early and lit the fire like he had done all the while they had been married. It was like his duty, after dressing, he would immediately position himself in the mirror as he tried to tie his tie, eventually, he would either stop a passing tenant or call James to help him with his ties, he had been taught how do tie his tie several times but he just could not get the hang of it.
He would grill the poor tenant who would probably be tying his tie reminding him that his rent was a couple of days overdue, the conversation would usually end with an invitation to attend church with the family. After Mark, James would use the mirror to rehearse his lines.
“Girl your teeth are so white, they should have fired Mr. beaver and hired you instead.” James would smile at himself.
Timothy and Jake would just watch in disbelief.
“Teeth are so white, that when you wake up and smile people think that the sun has risen.” He would go on.
“Your teeth are so white that I can see my refection in them.” He would smile cheekily.
Timothy and Jake would join him in the mirror.
“You teeth, teeth, teeth.” Timothy retorted. “Kwani, you now work for Colgate or something.”
“You are just jealous.” James would respond. “Kijana.” He would point at his youngest brother. “Who is that handsome dude who is staring at you.” He would point at his reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, its me.” He would reply. “My God, I am so good looking.”
He would concentrate on his image. “When God made me, he must have thought. ‘David kando!”
The two younger boys would just laugh. No doubt James was a good looking boy, he was not bad to look at, but the shy Timothy was pleasant to look at, the fact that he was quiet added to his mystery that made girls always wanted to talk to him. He feared them, he thought that he had all the time in the world, hence girls were the least important, KCSE topped. And boy wasn’t he working hard.
After James, Timothy would stand in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, the only part of his body he gave much attention to. He was a hard worker and everyone appreciated that, the girls gave him a hard time because of his looks.
That was until after sitting for only two papers, his head began to ache, he had had the headache for a while but it was becoming worse. By the time of being sent home, he could not even sleep, the next day he was in so much pain, his head was swollen all the way to his neck. The whole family was scared as they rushed him to hospital. Scans revealed that there was a tumor just outside his nasal area of his right eye; they needed a biopsy to find out whether it was a cancerous.
A few days later, he could not breathe, he could not eat, and he was screaming in pain. The whole family watched helplessly as the love of their life drifted away.
If there a hole inside my heart, then you are the only person, who can ever fill it. If there is a man who knocks me of my feet, then it must be you. I cannot believe that I got the opportunity to fall in love with you. If I could live, one thousand lives, bind the hands of time, I would spend every moment with you. I have never known I love like yours, and I don’t think I will ever love another man as much as I love you, or in the same way that I love you. You have been the only constant in my life. From the very first moment we met, our fate was sealed, it was love at first sight, at least for me it was, from that time until now, no man has ever being able to arouse my heart the way you do. The feeling you give me is simply indescribable, I cannot describe it to anyone else, even if I wanted to shout it out to the world, what words would I use, all I know is that I love you and I need you so much because you are all I am living for.
It wasn’t your looks that attracted me to you, but the way you carried out yourself. “You know many a man claim to have unfailing and undying love, but a faithful man who can find.” I did.
You are the sort of man, who is not defined by his looks; many men are lost in this area. You do need a fat cheque book or a fancy car or house to make you confident, and feel like a man in false egoistic attempts. Like Matthew, the poor man who grew up in abject poverty, then he married the lovely Helen, who helped him start a spare part business, which has made him to be a millionaire, but all that time, he never felt like he was man enough, so to prove that he was a man, after he got the money, he took in another women, not just one but multiple, on countless occasions on account of his manliness he managed to infected his wife, Helen with a sexually transmitted diseases, not once. His confidence was based on money, without it, he was just plain pathetic. But not you, your confidence is in God, maybe that is what I love most about you…God.
Your love for me is unexplainable. Sometimes all I want to hear is all about you, the greatest love of my life. Tell me the story of my love, write on my heart every word, and tell me the story most precious. I have found a friend in you, my love and you are everything to me, what no other man could give me, and you did. In sorrow you are my comfort, in joy, you are there to share it with me. You are always there.
Whenever I think of you, my heart is filled with such awe, and amazement, it swells up with the pleasure of knowing a perfect man like you could love an imperfect woman like me. When I think of how much you love me, the longing in heart increases and all I want to see is you, my love, to hold and forever sing of my love forever. You make my heart beat in a systematic rhythm, in a love song for my beloved. I could sing of that love forever.
The Bible says that a man should love a woman like he loves his body, in the same way he takes care of his body, then he should care for his wife, defend her to the point of laying down his life for her.
“Greater love has no man than this
than a man should give his life for a friend.” I know you love me because I can feel it.
“There is no fear in love, and perfect love drives out fear.”
At times all I can do is be quiet in utter reflection, in full knowledge that no man could ever love me as you do. I have the blessed assurance that you are mine and that no one could ever separate me and you. Not even death. You are my greatest love, the one that I think of always. Tell me the story of my love; write on my heart every word. Oh my love, how I love you, I could search for all eternity and find there is only one man who can give my heart search an unspeakable joy, such peace, an everlasting peace, such love pure and holy love, the one every woman dreams of, the one that can make a woman say:
“My man loves me.”
The one, which is very hand to comprehend, he makes my heart glad. My heart at times wants to shout and dance for joy, especially when I am alone with him. It is enough for me just to seat by his feet and listen to him talk. Because of his great love for me, how great a debtor, daily I am constrained to be.
“My greatest love is him.”
Find no use for valentines, because he has been with me every step of the way. He has not walked away from me yet. I am not be the best lover in the world but one thing I am sure of, my love, is that my love for you has remained constant; you are still the one that I want to be with. Even when I walked away from you, I loved you, yes, but I could not help but doubt your love for me.
“Is it real?”
I asked myself. You do remember that time. I was so sure that you could not be for real, a man like you, who could love a woman who is as undecided as I am could not simply exist. I pushed you away, I remember how sad you were as I did this, but I did not deserve your love, I could see the tears in your eyes, you did not understand why I was doing this, why I was walking away from you. Well, baby, I thought I loved you more, I thought over time and I grew older, your love for me would end. You see other women, curvier, sexy, with better hearts and more beautiful than me. I could not believe that a man can love a woman forever, love ends, that is what the marriages around me had taught me, not to give my love wholeheartedly lest I get hurt, too always leave room for doubt. Remember Mama Peter, no sooner had she died than her grieving husband took in the maid as the new wife, four months after burying his wife, we were planning his wedding, how much was his love for her, because my sweet heart, remember Esther, that day after our meeting, I was standing outside our gate, thinking about you. When she came running, panting, and her afro hair was undone and seemed to be pointing towards the sky. Her clothes were dirty it seemed like she had fallen over and over again and had also been involved in some physical fight with someone, her husband, David was hot on her heels, did you see what he did to her after she fell on a ditch.
That’s why I walked away, I thought that I needed sometime to clear my mind and move on from you.
I wasn’t prepared for the desolation that I experienced that’s why I came running back to you, that is when I realised that you only fall in love once, and you being my first love, you are very hard to forget.
That experience taught me a lot about my love for you, you see darling, when we started our relationship, I swore, not only to love you forever, but to be perfect for you. I said I would change, then at the end of it all, you would be so proud of me, I wanted a perfect love with no imperfections, I wanted to please you in every way, but the harder I tried, the harder I fell I could not love you as much as you loved me. You stayed even when I gave my heart to other men. Remember Moses, the cute guy with curly hair and a contagious smile, he knocked me off my feet, but it didn’t last long. There are times other men seemed better than you are, you stuck by me. I wanted to leave because I was sure that one day you would get tired of me and you would leave.
So this Valentines, when they say I see you and my heart goes paragasha, you and I both know that its true for us, I love you more than I love chips, pizza, and all the other junk food that I am addicted too.
B without BB is like a train without an engine then my life without you is like a body without a heart.
If Omo or Ariel removes all the stubborn stains, so do you remove the burdens from my heart and leave me free.
Cadbury’s chocolate may be a piece of love to others, but having your heart is all the love that I need.
Royco does not add as much flavour as you have done in my life.
I am not expecting chocolates or flowers from you, though a romantic dinner I wouldn’t mind, but what I want you to know for all the times that you have stood by me, through my moments of weaknesses and confusion, for walking with me when I was down on my knees, for the tear drenched shirts, for late nights, for understanding when I called on you, as a last option. At those times I did not even have the strength to crawl but you carried me. You are my world, and though my love for you is not perfect, I can boldly declare that: “I love you imperfectly.
“What!” the Kenyan president exclaimed, the Daily newspaper in front of him, stated than more than a hundred million shillings from the ministry of education that was supposed to fund the free primary education program had been misappropriated. “Call the minister of education now!” he ordered his secretary.
The president was on holiday in Mombasa for the Christmas holiday with his wife and three children. He paced around the room as wife and children watched, they knew he was just about to cut their holiday short. His secretary came back in.
“Sir, he is out of the country.” She said.
He moved as though to attack her, causing her to fall back.
“Doing what” his voice was fierce, the first lady knew that her husband hated any of his ministers sleeping around in their offices, while millions was stolen by corrupt officials.
“Maybe he is one of the thieves too.” He remarked as he walked around. “Let him stay wherever he is and enjoy the money because the minute he steps in this country, he is going to jail. Call a press conference.”
He was Kenya’s first forty five year old president. He had chosen to run for presidency using the ticket of a very small party that was virtually unknown to Kenyans. The Wazalendo party, but in each province he had been elected overwhelmingly. His wife was a well-known socialite who loved dressing in elegant West African attire and a headgear accompanied every outfit that she wore. A model wife, one who had the nation at heart, she had campaigned fiercely for her husband, defying every obstacle that labeled her husband as henpecked. His opponents had used every weapon that they could use against him.
“He has no tribe, how can he lead a nation that has forty two tribes.”
“Do not give this man the presidency, it is better for one us, from our tribe, to be at the top, so that we can be safe.” Others said.
“It is our time to eat.”
Their time had passed; they were speaking to a people that could not be easily dissuaded, a people that had made up their minds.
They ganged up, all the tribes against him, they presented a united font to Kenyans, and they all seemed determined to work together. “We will work together, for a united Kenya.” They said to virtually empty stadiums, the media was there they covered everything and showed it to the public, but whenever these politicians that had divided Kenya for so long were shown, people switched off their televisions. They were tired, of nation whose growth had stagnated even though it claimed to free.
They had had it with leaders, who for so long had applied the divide and rule so that they could remain in power and plunder the nation, and the masses, irregardless of the tribe had remained in abject poverty, while the leaders continued to increase in size, their earning tripled, they grabbed forests which they sold to the poor Kenyan people, only for them later to come back and accuse the poor people of land grabbing. They paid compensated billions of Kenya shillings, for land they had stolen.
They had turned an entire nation into a nation of beggars; while they used every single cent they could to amass wealth.
No wolf in sheep clothing could convince Kenyans otherwise, they wanted a leader by the very sense of the word, they were tired of tribal cocoons, they were tired of killing each other every other general elections, they were ready for a new start, they wanted a man or a woman who would unite them as Kenyans, a president of the people, a man of the nation. One who would dream, live and work for Kenya only. A leader led by the heart and not his pockets or his stomach. One who would not forget about the people who gave him the power, one who would work day and night for a better Kenya.
The politicians cried out to Kenyans. “Give us a chance to unite this nation, from the Kikuyus, Luos, Kalenjins, we will heal this nation where blood has been shade.”
“Heal!” Kenyans asked. “On our ignorance you have thrived, so as to divide us. It is because of you have many have lost their lives, because of your divide and rule policies. We have lost our parents, children, neighbors, brothers and sisters, our land and so many things but as Kenyans we have decided we will not lose our lives aimlessly.”
They had dropped some of the politicians from other communities to see if the majority would be appeased but nothing seemed to work. They resulted in blaming the media.
In the more than forty years that Kenya had been independent, these leaders had had thousands of chances to prove themselves, there had been droughts that ravaged the nation, time and time again, yet they had done nothing about it, even as the food prices went up, they did not care, after all they had their tax free salaries and allowances. When Kenyans died of hunger, they just watched and exclaimed over lavish dinners. “The government is doing something about it.”
Drought and famine came and went, thousands of lives were lost; it was the international community that came and saw them through. Disaster unprepared ness saw hundreds of Kenyans lose their lives over and over again. They had finally learnt they hard way.
Floods had lavished the land, deforestation had taken place, and Kenya was on the blink of collapsing as a state. Kenyans were shocked to hear their leaders state that rain came from heaven and that trees contributed nothing at all. Dare say that in the new Kenya, and next day, you will not be a leader anymore. The scandals were increasing by the day, from Golden berg to stealing funds meant for free primary education, no type of scandal was new to Kenyans, they were used to it. The politicians’ and the people in high places were now inventing new ways of stealing. There motto. “No amount is too huge to be stolen.”
Yet the presidents had watched and did nothing while Kenyans, were being plundered. Nothing was said silence filled the air. After all, you could not punish your friends.
Alas, Kenyans realized that a country got the leaders it deserved, and whenever there were calamities, even though they voted as tribal bloc, they died as Kenyans. They decided that it made no sense for the to die to lose their costly lives, because enough blood had already been shed for that course. They wanted change!
You can never oppress a people forever; an oppressed nation cannot remain oppressed forever.
“Enough!” they said with one voice. “We are tired of being used.”
Indeed they were, as the general elections drew closer, the politicians realized they were fighting a losing battle. They were staring defeat in the face. The world watched in awe. There was strength in unity, the people realized. The winds of change had swept over the nation of Kenya. There was no turning back.
