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.

My timeline, my mind and my soul's feed.

I reach out to you, I cut myself open so you can see me,

But still it doesn't satisfy you, you want in your hands my heart that's beating,

I break every rule I have set, I almost enslave myself to your ideology,

Still that won't suffice, you're unmoved by my suffering.

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You and you and you, have become my unrelenting need,

You're on my timeline, my mind and my soul's feed.

Yesterday you said I was selfish, 

That I didn't care about anybody else but me,

With reckless abandon hurtful words you dish,

Yet I'm the one expected to issue an apology,

Bait in your ocean yet no caught fish,

I'm tired of this mindless choreography,

No matter what card you unleash,

I'm no longer moved by your "topography" 

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You and you and you, have become my unrelenting need,

You're on my timeline, my mind and my soul's feed.

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You feel no pain, when you watch me bleed,

You and you and you, have become my unrelenting need,

You're on my timeline, my mind and my soul's feed.

You won't succeed in turning me into an Adele,

There will be no bitterness, that my songs shall tell,

Freedom will free me, wild and unbound I will inhale,

Love anew, imprisoned in Cupid's cell...

Be Like Water

I have been itching to write lately, because it's been aeons since words poured out of me. I racked my brain for topics to tackle, and the one word that kept coming to me was water. And water it was.

I decided to remind myself of my favourite water quotes courtesy of good reads because like they say, 71% of me just like the universe is water. There's something about water, the sound of its flow brings a serenity too sublime for words. Watching the waves ebb and flow stills my mind, one of the reasons why I miss Mombasa so much. One of my favourite pastimes was sitting at this stone-carved/concrete bench at Fort-Jesus and releasing myself to the sound of the waters and the waves.

I've complied a couple of sayings that I really love concerning water, apart from water always finds its level. 

Here goes:

1: “Anger is like flowing water; there's nothing wrong with it as long as you let it flow. Hate is like stagnant water; anger that you denied yourself the freedom to feel, the freedom to flow; water that you gathered in one place and left to forget. Stagnant water becomes dirty, stinky, disease-ridden, poisonous, deadly; that is your hate. On flowing water travels little paper boats; paper boats of forgiveness. Allow yourself to feel anger, allow your waters to flow, along with all the paper boats of forgiveness. Be human.”

 C. JoyBell C.

2. “The cure for anything is salt water - tears, sweat, or the sea.” 

 Isak Dinesen, Seven Gothic Tales

3. “Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.” 

Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad

4. “No matter how much water a sink takes on, it never lives up to its name. The Titanic would never have sunk if it were made out of a sink. 
” 

Jarod Kintz, The Titanic would never have sunk if it were made out of a sink.

5. The sun shines down, and its image reflects in a thousand different pots filled with water. The reflections are many, but they are each reflecting the same sun. Similarly, when we come to know who we truly are, we will see ourselves in all people.

I'm not quite sure why the word water has been on my mind lately, maybe I need more of it, maybe I need to re-acquaint myself with it. All I know it, if most of the world is water, if most of a human being is water, if the first nine months of a human's life are spent in water, if in the beginning was thick darkness and water, then there are secrets in this eternal compound that only its drops can whisper. 

PS: Image courtesy of wallsave . com. 

They All Amount To Me

Opinionated, conflict-evader, erratic, crazy, 

free thinker yet restrained doer, bathroom popstar, 

Team Becoming, dreamer, afraid to fall yet always finds a way to stand, 

impatient, big believer in inward greatness, talkative during the day, Silence-Space-Stillness craving introvert at dusk, 

certified wanderer, in love with dawn monologues, at home with my three acknowleged voices, fashioNOsta, dedicated information disperser, foodie, sociable yet anti-social, guided by the heart yet held back by my head, 

an open book yet a complex melange of experiences, fears, expectations, past hurts and perceived limitations, genuine to a fault, still waiting for that house by a singing stream. 

All these are facets of me, I wonder how much more I don't know about myself!! There's a song I love to sing, it's a mash up of two songs.

" I am a flower quickly fading, here
today and gone tomorrow, a wave
tossed in the ocean, a vapour in the wind...

so who am I that You are
mindful of me, that You hear me when
I call, and is it true that You are
thinking of me? That You love me? It's
amazing. ~I am yours~ 

Facets of me, pieces incomplete,

shadows stalked by many a memory,

All these make up the "mystery" that amounts to me. 

Fahamu Fika

Sijui nikwambieje, moyo wangu watetema, 

hofu imenitanda mawazo yarandaranda, 

sidhani niko sawa

sijui nikwelezeje, bila wewe sina usalama naungama, 

pete kawaida huvikwa chanda walakin ni bayana tuko njia panda, 

pasi na wewe napagawa. 

Ila wanisusia, 

manake ushakuwa mchezo wa shere, 

yaogee maji ukishayafulia, 

keti utue mwaserere, 

kisha kama huoni gere, 

kunihadaa kuniacha nikiumia, 

haina kwere, 

mwafulani uchungu nishauzoea. 

Fahamu fika katika harakati za maisha, ah ah, 

ya dunia kawaida huisha ah ah, 

fahamu fika katika harakati za maisha ah ah, 

huba hufifia kisha. 

Naam najua, naam najua, 

naam najua, naam najua.

I want To Crush And Burn And Be Allowed To learn.

It's rare when I feel the need to be naked emotionally...or so I tell myself. Most of my notes could be intepreted* as a silent, nay ear-shateringly loud cry for help...they are not. I'm not being cryptic, you do not have to read between the lines to decipher. I think I'm lonely. *Weeps* It sucks to admit that but I think I am. Not for erotic love, God no! Lonely for the love that loveth genuinely and understands earnestly. 

Friends have become strangers, bossom buddies have become pillars of salt. Memories, they haunt like the ghosts of christmas past and it's disheartening. I've woken up lonely, because in my dreams lately I'm running and falling with no one to catch me. I'm aching and screaming with no one to hold me. I'm reaching out albeit silently but there's no straw to clasp hold of for dear life. Deserted. I feel deserted. 

I don't pretend to be happy, I have ineffable joy! I have learned to make peace with the problems that seem hellbent on destroying me. After all, fire purifies gold, it doesn't decimate it. I however crave to lean on someone; fighting alone is akin to death in a cold icy dungeon. Alas, there are no warriors surrounding me. Nobody to carry me, wounded I'm left alone to bleed! I'm bloody and in need of bandaging, pierced to the sides like Jesus yes I'm hurt. And like him I'm dying to save the world...but I'm yielding to eternal silence because nobody WILL rescue me. 

Is this a clarion call? no. Is this a battle cry? NO. What is it? Quite frankly sijui. I want to break into ashes surrounded who understand the rebirth of a phoenix. But I'm all alone, feeling like I'm fighting a loosing battle. This is not me asking for pity, far from it. This is not me asking for sympathy, I detest it. I crave for empathy, that is the rare jewel my soul seeketh. 

I want someone to say, "You can be Clark or Bruce, the world will still be here tomorrow, what can I do for you?" That. That's what I want. I don't want love, unless it's unrequited, I don't want fun, unless it's unadulterated. I want empathy, I want to feel safe, I want to know I won't go down or drown. I want to crush and burn and be allowed to learn. May be you'll hear my cry and step up, before I have a glacier for a heart and become a hermit. I'm at the periphery, and once I cross that line, I'm not coming back. Goodbye human heart, welcome to the abyss.