100 Days, 100 Places - Unintentional but Unapologetic Killjoy.

Can you imagine if you were walking minding your own business (probably singing along to the music being spouted by your iPod) and then a lion appeared out of nowhere onto your path and threatened to end your existence? (What a killjoy) 

Well, I assume you would scamper, trying to escape, probably tripping and dropping anything you were holding; because of course your life is more important.

Well, today I was that lion, at least in the eyes of a sweet old lady and her two young charges (barely 12 years from my estimate), who she was probably picking from school.
Immediately they set eyes on me, I could see their frantic look in their eyes and for a moment they were confused whether to go left or right. Thank God the old lady didn't trip and break a hip. I mean their facial expressions made it so evident the distress they were facing.

I guess I'm an Unintentional but so very Unapologetic of a Killjoy.

~

Rest assured this brown lady (me) shan't be biting you, unless you ask real nice, and even then I am not too sure I would oblige.
I'm honestly still confused about what to think/feel about this, but one thing though; I hope that the text books that these young kids are reading, are able to give them a diverse view of the world. Not everyone is going to be so fortunate to travel the world. It would be a shame to go by your life thinking everyone is an exact (physically, mentally, emotionally etc) replica of yourself. ‪#‎StayWoke‬

p.s. This is not to say Hong Kong hasn't yielded happy memories and experiences to me (I mean if you see my pictures and other updates you will know this is not the entire story of Hong Kong) 

100 Days, 100 Places - The Policeman and Him

We’d had a lovely day. It had been hot and humid, but lovely all the same. I was happy; it was a wonderful way to spend a day in a beautiful place, with beautiful souls. Though, this beautiful place is now, more often than not riddled with all that is ugly in this world. I guess it is the irony of the world.

After all the day’s activity, rightfully, I was sleepy and I began to dose on his lap. I think I was smiling in my sleep.

All of a sudden I could hear raised voices, and the car was at another one of the numerous and infamous road blocks. But this time we didn't move on after paying the precursory 20-50. In a sleep infused confused state, I woke up to look questioningly at him. He said not to worry, we had done nothing wrong. I could see his face structure had changed; defiance was now prominently etched on each line of his face.

We were not okay. His face said it all. He was not going to go “silently”.

I looked outside the car window and saw the policeman with his AK-47 casually draped over his arm. It made me uneasy. I couldn't understand what they were saying but apparently as the car went by the road block, they saw a young lady lying on the lap of a gentleman; and well, that couldn't be right. My stomach clenched and weirdly I felt shame, where a moment ago there was none.

He left the car and still in his defiant state, sat right across the boot (trunk) of the car. He spread his legs out, adjusted his watch in a fashion, rich with swagger, which was quite unlike him by the way, and patiently looked upon the policeman waiting for him to come to his senses and let us by. 

The deceptive calm in his aura worried me. I was nervous, this could go either way and I wasn’t sure we would emerge as victors in this kerfuffle.

Here I was thousands of miles from home, my father’s advice still ringing clear as crystal in my ears, “Be careful wherever you go and do, you can’t be so trusting there.” See, this was very unlike my father. He never once gave me such advice in the numerous trips I undertook abroad that year, so it took me aback and until today, I still remember his casual warning.

The policeman started throwing words around; flailing the hand that was not burdened by his larger than life AK-47, which was now slightly bouncing from side to side, due to his aggressive movements. I grew wary, and wondered whether I should ask him to come back to the comfort of the car. That maybe we would be safer there, that is until the policeman haphazardly decided to let us by. But the defiance was still there, seemingly more pronounced than ever.

All of a sudden the policeman gestured to the driver that we were permitted passage.

However, he still sat there on the boot of the car, silent and unmoving. Gazing cynically at the policeman, like the man had grown an extra head in those few minutes; I could hear his derisive thoughts, “See the protectors of my country?”

Again he adjusted his watch, jumped off the boot with unrehearsed drama, and got back into the back seat of the car.

I can still remember him grabbing my hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

We were okay it said, we won. 

This time.

“For how long though?”

Mistakes, they're the ones that build me.

I don’t get what the big deal is, with making mistakes.

If only I had a nickel for every time I heard someone say, ‘Young people these days, humph!’ I definitely, wouldn’t be Aloe Blacc.

Every time I hear this phrase I die a little more inside. Teach Goddamnit! Instead, of spending so much time wallowing , cringing, whinging and forever seeing us as the mistake we made when we were newbies! Teach, reprimand, correct for goodness sake, instead of taking the moral high road of indignation. It’s unfortunate that in your eyes, we forever remain that minuscule or not so minuscule mistake we made way back when. God forbid you fail to notice when we actually begin to succeed. Or worse chalk it up to some sneaky way that we’re probably cheating the system.

I must admit, some of us millennials have had it easy. We didn’t get violently spanked by our mothers as our older siblings were. We weren’t sent off to camp during the holidays with no showers in the middle of the wilderness. Most of us had e-mail addresses earlier on in primary school and we printed out our holiday assignments. Our curfews were a bit later. We’ve travelled the world at such young ages. Times changed and we changed with the times. Or did you want us to hang back so that we could have more in common?

It’s time for you to accept that we’re different. We may not have used any alphabetical/hierarchical order when addressing that e-mail to multiple recipients (promptly ruffling some executive feathers). Yes you ‘oldies’ have this thing about hierarchy; it's okay though, we can learn to get that. We may not understand what is wrong with our creative writing in that company brief the first time round. We probably won’t realize that we use the word, ‘Like’ or ‘umm’ that much when explaining something. We most probably won’t realize we annoy you, so, Goddamn, much.

However, as millennials, we learn pretty fast. We’re hungry for information and we’re great at using technology to make work more efficient and effective. We just could be the burst of life your organization needs.

So how about making use of that, rather than preaching that we’re all about one single doomed story?

Today, I’m thankful for all of you ‘oldies’ out there dedicated to my learning and that of many other millennials starting out.

Want to read more about millennials? Here's a Mashable article about how we're tackling the recession. This makes me think of the lack of adequate jobs in Kenya despite the thousands of University graduates being churned out by the system.
Happy Reading!

Do labels negate embracing diversity?

In today’s post I want to challenge you to share a story of a situation where you felt excluded. Whether it was because of your race, sexuality, political affiliations, language, physical attributes, you name it. Share it with someone, as I will share mine with you. I got the juice to write this post as I was reading through several articles about the history of Malcom X, Pan Africanism as well as the diversity program thriving in the organization I currently work in. Also of course, what is happening in Kenya in reference to Somalis, is thought provoking and devastating, to say the very least.

You would think diversity and the resources it makes available to every one of us would be a reason to bring people from all walks of life together. Well, in my mind it is. That is why organizations are investing heavily in diversity programs right? In my experience when working in a team, you don’t want to be bogged down with the same ideology, same challenges, same experiences, same opinions, same stories, same curse words, everything is the goddamn same! This would be a crying shame! And that is the reason why, I’m a big fan of diversity.

However, out of the workplace and into the big bad world where we are still backwards and 'unevolved', diversity is a thing of suspicion, it breeds intolerance and is a thing to point and stare at. We are unforgiving when it comes to diversity and sadly most of us are still stuck in our old ways. Well it’s about time we were curious about diversity, asked the right questions and subsequently understood what it represents and how it can work for us, instead of us working against it. At least for the mere reason that, sooner rather than later, it’s going to be forcefully shoved down our throats. 

Your move.

Okay back to my story before it’s too late.

Hafeshah my friend, has travelled quite a bit, but in actual fact the story I will share with you will be based on how she felt excluded in her home country. It’s normal to feel disconnected in certain aspects while you’re in a foreign country, and you were probably expecting that kind of a story. That is why I won’t write about that. It would be ordinary.

To begin this story I will start with the concept of labels. A label is a short word or phrase, descriptive of a person, group, intellectual movement, etc. Humans thrive on creating and identifying with labels. We huddle close to those of whom we share a label, we feel safe with them, and we feel like we belong, we are our label. This label, dictates to us how we behave. I have a friend here, he said to me, ‘I am concerned about other’s well being, I care, you know I am Christian?’ I smiled at his conviction and it was admirable that his religion was helping to mould him into a better person. But, what of those in our midst without religion sewn onto their chests? Are they held to the same standard of being caring and concerned? I must say these labels hold a great deal of power over us. It’s scary because not all of us are loyal subscribers, while others are extremists, loyal to the extent of death, theirs and others’.

Young and in love, Hafeshah’s significant other invites her to his church. Dedan, is her boyfriend of two years and he is catholic. It all goes well and of course Hafeshah is able to distinguish immediately the differences between both religions, and despite the blaring differences she is sure that they can find common ground. I mean, love is unconditional right? As she is greeted by his family, his father says all confidently, ‘Good, you are NOW in the right place’.

*I shan’t explain what is wrong with this statement*

She remains stoic, after all she is a master of concealing her real feelings.

The Sky promptly begins to fall…

I’m sorry, I know I said focus on the story but what I really wanted you to focus on, was the words. The story after all had to undergo much needed alterations, and maybe just maybe I was the girl, but the words in question are oh so real. I carry them with me every day, that I may never forget their impact. Once those words were spoken, yes I was shocked, angry even, but it wasn’t until later that I truly began to dissect their meaning. Then came despair, disbelief and thankfully resolve.

Religion. It’s a weighty subject, one I often avoid. I believe there is no ‘right’ religion. Religion is based on personal faith, this all encompassing belief. It is not automatically transferrable by the push of a button, nor is it automatically lost by selecting ‘undo’ on the keypad. We may be born into it, but when we come of age we either choose to believe, not to believe or select a different option. There are many to choose from. It’s personal. It’s the perfect live and let live situation, if we were smart. Don’t argue with someone about their religion as far as it doesn't threaten your existence. It’s theirs, their belief, theirs. Don’t touch it. But we are not smart. Getting in each other’s faces about faith, sigh when will we ever learn? 

The Bible says Jesus walked on water. Scientists will try and explain it by saying perhaps it was a dried lake, like most sections of Lake Magadi, or something else. Anyways, this article here explains that man can’t walk on water under normal circumstances and how only insects, spiders and other small organisms are able to. Christians however, do not need that explanation. They have faith, conviction that Jesus did indeed walk on water. See what I’m getting at? Two completely different philosophies and getting one or the other to cross over, would be as pointless as it would be frustrating. 
Live and let live why don't you.

Just as it is with religion, there is no right with ethnicity, sexual orientation and sex. It is how we came to be. Don’t tell me, the way ‘I am’ is wrong. Take a seat, strap yourself in. Better yet I have some duck tape that I would love to mummify you with. Idiot.

Why can’t I just be me? Be kind and caring without it being attributed to my religion. Be all about bringing politicians to book, without forever being labelled an unruly political activist. Fighting for equal rights for both men and women, without being labelled a frustrated feminist. Accepting of all sexual orientations without being known as a perverse, sexual deviant.  In short being humane instead of being labelled: a Christian, feminist, homosexual lover, political activist and all manner of terms. It’s a mouthful. Labels throw us off, they make us presumptuous. We end up dealing with labels rather than the people wearing the label. We stop reading behaviour because all we want to see is this label. I challenge you to stop hiding behind your label. This label has become our false redeemer.  We wear it like a badge of honour. As a talisman to keep off unwanted scrutiny. Stop it, it’s abhorrent. It’s insincere.

Hi there my name is Wandia, and I am where and who I ought to be today.

'My feeling is that labels are for canned food...I am what I am - and I know what I am.'

~ Michael Stipe.

You need to be spoken for, or else…

My two nephews Muthenya (5) and Utuku (3) are playing with their toys in the living room at home. Utuku grabs Muthenya’s toy car and begins to play with it. Affronted, Muthenya whines, “Aiii Tuku that’s my car, give it back!” The drama ensues.

Ownership, it’s fundamental in drawing the lines of what is permitted and what is prohibited when dealing with property. As a woman I often feel like that toy car. Being shown off, being coveted or admired lustily by others, being of ‘high maintenance’, subject to meeting particular standards and even needing an owner for my presence to be justified. I am there to be admired and ‘played’ with, at the discretion of my ‘owner’.

I was reading the latest post on Brainstorm, ‘Even the Streets Aren’t Safe’ and I got the inspiration for this post. To say that I can relate to this post on Kenyan Street Harassment would be an understatement. Sad as it is to admit, it is my life, it is what I go through every day on the streets of Nairobi. I am also sure my female friends can relate as well.

 “Hey baby, you look like you need some company,” he said to me while I was in the company of my girl friends.

I am confused. I don’t know this look he speaks of. Does it exist? Can you tell me so that I may stop wearing it, and you will no longer feel comfortable to approach me, with this offensive statement as your opening line?

Something interesting I noticed is that as a young lady, I wouldn’t be harassed if a man accompanied me. It is the same in clubs, if I am dancing with a man I am off limits, but if I am dancing with another lady, I become ‘free game’, the target of each and every man, irrespective of my wishes.

In the post, ‘Even the Streets Aren’t Safe’, Sheila Maingi spoke of men’s entitlement to women’s bodies and their sexuality, to do with as they please. Here, I address this ridiculous notion that all women need to be spoken for, or else…

Above is a clear illustration that society needs our women to be spoken for by a man. A woman cannot be a stand-alone being, or else it is acceptable for her to be assaulted, insulted or preyed upon. After all I am a ‘wo’ ‘man’. A man would need to complete that equation right?

When will you get married they ask? Don’t you have a boyfriend? So you want kids but not a man? These questions are intrusive as they are endless.

Where is it written that I must aspire to marital bliss? That I must be present in Church every Sunday, husband and kids in tow? Show me so that I may quickly oblige without fuss, that’s how you like me right? Compliant and without drama, yes?

In this same light, I feel I need to say that I do not think we should aspire without fail, to marry. Before you take me to the gallows for this statement, note carefully that I said ‘aspire without fail’ which means, ’to long, aim, or seek ambitiously until achievement’. Using myself as an example, I do not wake up every morning with a to-do list of action steps that will eventually lead to my marriage ability. None, of my life’s Measures of Success include ‘To be married without fail’ with Key Performance Indicators of ‘number of dates in a week’. Yes, I would love to have a partner to share the different phases of my life, to love unconditionally and to cherish. But really, do you honestly believe if I do not marry, I will have failed at life? Whatever your answer, I am relieved you won’t be the one answering this question for me. However, let us be clear, in a world full to the brim with terrorists, murderers, rapists, corruption, greed, hate and all manner of atrocities, there are a lot of ways to be a failure in life, without ‘singlehood’ being one of them.

It should not be society’s place to dictate that I need some man to protect me, to speak for me, to own me so that I can be safe, so that I am accounted for!  That is definitely not how I want to go through life.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention here, that recently Kenya passed the law giving men the option, right to be polygamous. Not only that, but without the wife’s consent.

Kenya's Member of Parliament, Samuel Chepkong'a, who proposed the amendment, said that when a woman got married under customary law, she understood that the marriage was open to polygamy, so no consultation was necessary.

"Any time a man comes home with a woman, that would be assumed to be a second or third wife," said Samuel Chepkong'a, chairman of the Justice and Legal Affairs Committee.

"When you marry an African woman, she must know the second one is on the way, and a third wife... this is Africa," MP Junet Mohammed told the house.

Pause, let those quotes sink in.

Two things, firstly:

I mean why not? There are many women who need taking care of, no? We need to be placed under the very capable wings of our full-bodied men. Surely, if the man has the financial capacity to do so, why not? I am pretty sure it will improve fidelity in marriage, and even reduce the chances of acquiring STDs amongst married couples. It must be a good thing. 

THUD! That was the sound of me using my anchor like handbag to hit the side of your head.

Newsflash, the secret to improving fidelity in marriage and curbing the spread of STDs amongst married couples is fidelity. Just in case fidelity is a foreign concept to you, this means having sex with ONLY your husband or wife.

Secondly:

In this second point, I will use a metaphor that should be clear as day. I could be wrong, but here goes. When buying a new car, do you have to ask ‘Car # 1’ for its permission or at least explain your motives for needing a new and different car? My guess is, it is either you have the money and space to keep both or get rid of the first to pave way for the newer, sleeker, more recent model. See, our legislators are also reinforcing the fact that we are property, having no say, a mere possession.

So I ask myself, why would I want to bring my daughter into this world to experience this inhumane mutilation of her dignity? To bring my son into this world where he could mistakenly emulate society in its gross misconduct?

These are the questions that plague me.

Dear Local...

We all have encounters with locals of a country we are visiting or relocating to. They could be awful, surprising or enjoyable, and we all have these thoughts running through our minds, but we are much to nice to put it like we hear it in our heads; exclamations, curses, sneers and all.

I came up with some basic rules, five, it was a struggle to keep it under ten but I didn't want to get lost in a rant, as are the commonplace these days on the internet. They are simple as well as straight forward, I hope they help.

Dear Local,

1. Be curious but stay on safe topics e.g. food, weather and travel i.e. until you get to know me  better. Random comments like 'I heard you almost have no electricity in your country...' won't take you anywhere with me.

2. It's common courtesy to learn something positive about my home country, it's not all death, corruption and disease. So please do not bombard me with the usual regurgitation from social media/international news of disasters that happened or other unfortunate incidents that you assume neither I nor my loved ones were victims of.

3. Please Please Please if you suck at geography best stay silent and fiddle with your Google Maps when I say I'm from Country 'X'. Get educated, at least know from which continent I am from and understand the continent and country name cannot be used interchangeably. 

4. So I know I have encouraged you to use Google, but please don't just google my country and copy paste all that's about my country. Telling me how my countrymen are fast runners (p.s. I only run when I'm trying to beat the red light crossing the road), all the wildlife I must see everyday (Hey, the animals are locked up and I have a day job, I don't just wander through game parks all day every day)

5. DO NOT assume I am escaping my country, after all the grass is greener where you water it. So most probably I may be smiling through my pain, just maybe.

I figure I am pretty open minded and I understand that we were all brought up differently so I have not written you off just yet, but now you know.

For now I am living away from home, and so far I am enjoying it, experimenting with new culinary delights, cultures, language basically the newness of everything, for now. It's not absolutely comforting knowing that all my possessions are in a large suitcase and another much smaller one for the next year or so. It's difficult letting go of that attachment to possessions and the familiar rhythm that was a common place back home, but it definitely gets easier. (more on this later)

Definitely, this list of rules will grow longer as I continue to meet more people in the course of my adventure here so feel free to add on as well. We could all learn from each other!