Halleluyah I Survived Jogging!

I have been telling myself that I needed to jog in 2014 if I was to "retrace my steps" back to music. See I am convinced that jogging increases your lung capacity, and a singer is 'their ability to sustain and belt out notes" ala Whitney or Beyonce. Procrastination is however the bane of all dreams and ambitions, so I sauntered through life waiting for a sign from the gods perched loftily above that it was time to commence this most sacred odyssey. Idiotic me...

This year however, I woke up with the insatiable desire to rekindle my "nascent," nay dead and cremated love for music. So I took up exercising; nothing too strenuous, we don't do hardships. Funny thing about 'aerobics' (skipping to 300 and panting like a heifer on heat), is that you acclimatise and need more to reach the "same high".  So my work-out started to increase in intensity, and I swear the first few days after I thought I would die from feeling "constricted". This must be how voluptuous women feel when they adorn themselves with a corset, in their quest to attain that hour-glass figure albeit momentarily.

But come Wednesday morning, 29th Njaanuary I presume, (my arithmetic was always sh*t), I kissed the pre-dawn engulfing darkness, embraced its essence and exclaimed, "Alas, today we run!" That alone set in motion a flurry of activities; looking for comfy shoes and pants, wondering what sweater would buffer me from the biting cold, debating with myself loudly if I should carry my phone. Or why pray tell I didn't have them fancy iPods people run with. Btw do people Whatsapp while jogging? Someone needs to conduct that study.

Then my bundles decided to isha, and that was the sign I had been waiting for with bated breath! There was no internet to tether me to the comfort of my shags house, so to the neighbours I pranced humming songs of victory that I had finally won this battle against self! Oh the gait with which I made way to this house a few metres from mine, painted tales of warriors valiantly walking away from battle fields with victory atop their feathery head gears. Le sigh

And jog we did, every cell in my "frail" body cursing me for subjecting them to such torture! As in! That jogging trail was nothing like I had imagined; no swaying trees and whispering winds canoodling amorously with the starry sky. Nothing but treacherous terrain, callous cold and darkness teeming, nay heaving with ghosts of by-gone days! I must have picked faces, shapes and shadows stealthy lurking at the corners waiting to pounce on us and drain us of warm blood from our throbbing veins. But the devil is a liar! We ran.

Going up the "hill" to Mountain-view estate and eliciting encouraging shouts from the guards, it finally dawned on me that I was no longer all intention and no action. I was jogging, by George I was jogging and not writhing in pain as I had envisaged my return to running. As we jogged down the tarmac, I looked at the sky and true to form, the crescent moon was dangling precariously next to a lone star. Venus or Mercury or Jermaine, stars have names I hear. It was such a welcome relief to see that kind of disarming beauty at the break of dawn.

I got home and after collapsing on the floor like a pile of clothes, first thing I did was pick myself up post recovery, reach for a glass of water that I gulped to banish the beads on sweat on my temple, then switch on my laptop. 

Baggage claim was gonna be my reward, and it was well worth it. Did I mention that the first song I listened to when I woke up was grown woman by Yonce? Kwanza speaking of Bey, who slashes alphabets from a mononym? As in now your mononym gives birth to a moniker? Moving along swiftly...back to bidness.

Why am I acting like the first negro to jog at five am? Well...because in as much as I detest "public displays of affection", vanity dictates that I get "hugged" for surviving this. No mean feat people, it no be easy feat oh!

Sit ups, a couple of intermittent push-ups, jogging twice a week, I must say I am well on my way to reflecting the life of a fit multi-millionaire. There will be no other post about me exercising until I run the Nairobi Marathon later this year, yaay!  

So I want that T-shirt above from E-bay for my birthday :) And dear God after that exhilarating jog, Weetabix, milk and honey never tasted so divine! And yes this has been a week of 'firsts', I applied for space at Pawa 254, applied for that Washington Fellows thingamajig that allows you meet Obama when you're picked, and yes, today we has Read Aloud at Kilimani Primary school and I saw Kelvin from 6 Red read from his Braille extract. I feel so alive *drags Sage and tethers her to blog post*

We Need To Talk About Lupita!

It’s been ages since I wrote, but to salve my conscience over this matter, I have been mulling over this fact lately. My first post for “jumping the year” as we say here when referring to crossing over to the new year, was gonna be about how one shouldn’t grow up too fast because of responsibilities you can’t shirk. I will pen that piece after I’m done ranting.

On with it. First and foremost, can we talk about Lupita! The girl is on everyone’s lips! If spotlight could pay, she would be rolling in billions! I hope the endorsement roll in. That however is not why I decided to write at the break of dawn. All I read now when I see her, is how she’s a “natural beauty”, etc etc. Nothing about her background, educational achievements, personality and it’s frustrating! I need a time-out...

This post seems petty, I almost agree. However it always irks me that women are always judged based on looks rather than skill and the extenuating circumstances that contributed to their success. First and foremost, I’m no feminist, or maybe I am. Moving along swiftly… Lupita didn’t just wake up and become this iconic ‘black’ woman being hailed the world over.

I will state this with utmost caution lest I'm misquoted or better yet misunderstood. Being naturally dark skinned doesn't make you “au natural, more African” and being light skinned doesn't make you “less authentic, fake, Un-African” etc. Weaves don’t make a lass a Nicki Minaj wanna be, and a short cropped look doesn’t make you the "queen of Sheba". And that is what I see every day, women being pitted against each other because they are one shade too light or on shade too dark, because they chose to wear their hair “natural” as opposed to perming it. Has anyone told these people the products it takes to maintain that “natural” look? Hell, these same people that put down women that seem like a “sorry fabrication of Beyonce,” are the same ones that will deride dark skinned sistas on social media and go after the barbie looking girl in their normal days.

Yes we need to talk about some of these things because the double standards are nauseating. I hope you’re with me koz my thoughts are all over the place but let me attempt to give them a semblance of calm. The Lupitas and Beyonces of this world didn't just wake up “flawless” ladies. They were brought up surrounded by strong women and support systems that anchored them, whilst giving them the leeway to make mistakes and learn from them. They went to specialty schools that brought out their gifting; iron needs to be polished, metals need to be smelted to bring out the treasure in the ore. That is the secret to flourishing!

That is what I wish we would talk about. High achievers are mostly fashioned by travails or by other achievers. Someone has to believe in you and tell you you’re ENOUGH. Then someone has to give you the opportunities to become your highest self, someone has to give you your first platform or role.

Lupita went to Hampshire College, where she did a BA in Film Studies. She followed that up with Yale school of drama where I’m guessing she undertook a masters in film and acting. 

My point exactly you ask? She has brains to match that beauty the world is fawning over. The charisma you see that comes so effortlessly now, has been painstakingly fashioned by her support system that allowed her to flourish unhindered. Her parents let her do this; they raised her to believe in herself. I have met some of the women in her family and I will tell you this, these are strong, educated, grounded women who are unfazed by pettiness. That is the kinda environment a high achiever needs to be in to succeed.

Beyonce, who everyone is amazed by, is nothing without Tina, her mum. Her mother instilled in her the qualities that she needed to “stay down’ even when soaring like the eagles that glide with the clouds and surf them airy waves. Strong women, not the ones that go fighting all and sundry, the ones that have a mind of their own plus substance that is priceless, grew up under the watchful eye of matriarchs that spoke life to them and became the wind beneath their wings.

In-case my post has been lost in translation, I will reiterate or is the word recapitulate? This is not a feminist rant, but can we for once SPELL OUT the qualities that have made high achieving females forces to reckon with? Beauty is God given, sans sunscreen, nude make-up and the endless trips to the beauticians, it is “God-given,” seemingly. Armed with beauty, high achievers also have fierce and ferocious spirits, sometimes masked under a “subservience” that is a front to confuse their enemies. 

They don’t go down without a fight, and whilst they look primed and proper, they will get their own 100% of the time. They are warriors, Amazonian in spirit, because this world will eat you and spit you out faster than you can say “pacifist’.

My rant is done; I am not seeking to change mindsets, or set in motion paradigm shifts. When one feels an itch, you scratch it. I just scratched mine and I'm not longer feeling irked. Y’all can go back to hailing 'beauty' and wallowing in that selective amnesia that disregards the pillars that hold these awesome women up.