Second Chances

Two weeks ago I was busy with annual staff appraisals. I know many people I work with secretly loathe these rituals but they are an inevitable tool for touching base so we just get on with it. I had a copy of 101 Ways To Kill Your Boss by Graham Roumieu sitting idly on my desk which was a good ice-breaker. BTW check out what the genius Sunny Bindra thinks of these office games.

One of my colleagues, let’s call her Cathy because that’s not her real name, has been troubling me recently. Cathy has a first rate mind and her work is greatly admired by her peers. But lately she’s started acting out of character – missing deadlines, turning up for work under the influence and generally coming within inches of being shown the door.

Cathy is also very attractive and charming. You better believe it when a gay man says that. However this immensely talented woman is steadily gaining a reputation for being an easy lay. My colleague Sheila confided in me the other day that some clients now refer to Cathy as 'the Trampoline of Harambee Avenue'! Tragic considering this whispering campaign is happening behind her back and it’s the guys she’s changing weekly who are the culprits.

Anyway she walked into my office looking stunning as usual in a well-fitting pin-stripe business suit and tottering on black heels. I felt an unfamiliar twitch in my trousers but I quickly telepathed a sharp warning to my cock, If your dick causes you to sin then cut it off, from the scriptures or somewhere I can’t remember where I saw it written. Then I said please take a seat. I had my nasty-Tamaku speech all ready: Listen very carefully to what I’m about to say because I’ll only say it once. From now on you must come to work to do what is expected of you. That’s called Pride. Bring your own morale with you if that’s what you need to earn a living. Think of your career and the lovely cold hard cash that comes with it. If you think that’s too difficult then perhaps it’s time you reconsidered your future here. No ifs no buts.

But I didn’t, I just paused to think for a minute while stroking my sixteen greying beard hairs and asked, is there something troubling you?

That’s when she covered her face and started crying. I hate seeing any tears so I said I’m so sorry Cathy if something has upset you we can adjourn our meeting. But she composed herself quickly and told me that she was recently diagnosed with HIV! I ended the meeting there and then but we carried on talking for two hours. I said you need to take responsibility for your life because if you carry on like this you’ll surely find an early grave and it may not be the HIV. She said she had not found the courage to talk to anyone before so I said I’d put her in touch with some professionals who will help and she has nothing to fear but fear itself. We talked about lots of stuff that she wanted to talk about like plans for raising a family. I laughed in mock horror when she said that she’s looking for a guy but the good ones in Nairobi are all gay. I said loudly nooo! In my head I thought yeess!

Finally she left my office looking much brighter and more like her old self. Something tells me she’ll turn things around soon. I'm also praying that she does.

Is this what you want for Christmas?

Chris Brown - Take You Down [2008]


Santa, please?

Why I’ll never be a fan of Wan-tree-eel or Da Osi...

Most nights George likes to relax in bed watching his cherished dvds. Note the ‘his'. NOTHING is ever allowed to come in between him and his favourite dramas. Last Saturday he was engrossed in yet more One Tree Hill when I came out of the bathroom from cleaning my teeth. I was happily singing ‘secret lovers, yeah that’s what we are, we shouldn’t be together...’ when he gave me that look which says sshhh Tamaku, can’t-you-see-I’m-watching-something-v.important-here. So I stopped singing and got into bed. It’s fair to say that my tail was in between my legs as I snuggled up to George’s warm side hoping that we would soon be engaged in some horizontal jogging. ‘Cause we love each other so...ooh...ooh.’

Moments later when nothing of the sort happened (yet again) I started snoring sweetly (as I usually do whenever I start dreaming of me and Jeff Koinange sitting naked on The Bench doing something like an interview, haha!), that’s when George uncuddled me! Obviously the action on screen was at some life and death stage and my purring was distracting him so he pushed me away and I rolled to the other side of the bed. Arrrrrgh. Same thing happens when he’s watching The OC or that other one called Heroes, I’m not allowed to say a word in case he blinks and misses a scene. He says it’s never the same if he has to pause and rewind. By the time he’s watched four episodes I’m in no mood for anything.

Now I feel like I’m losing my man to teen dramas. So unfair....

Are Kenyan parents to blame for homophobia?

A comment in the Daily Nation following the news that gay rights will be left out of our proposed Constitution could explain the root of the deep-seated homophobia that exists in our society:

1. Submitted by alfotula
Posted November 20, 2009 09:49 AM
I dont want to explain to my young children why two men or two women are kissing. I would not know what to tell them bcos idont understand gay relationship. Last year, I was very shocked by the way gay parade their affection in public places in Stockholm and I would not want to see that in Nairobi.


My views on that? How about parents start by explaining to their children what TRUE LOVE really means? Surely there cannot be a worse example of woeful parenting than comments as those which display such helpless ignorance. Capable and loving parents are those who do not shy away from educating their offspring about the diversity that exists in the modern world. Any children abandoned to such an insular environment of intolerance can expect to be disadvantaged in an evolving future and the blame will lie squarely with their negligent carers.

Brave parents who visit here, please take note - today’s homophobe is almost certain to be tomorrow’s pariah.

Daft law discriminates against gay Kenyans

Kenya’s new proposed Constitution will, as anticipated, not permit for same-sex unions. It’s baffling how this Draft that allows for adults to enter into unions based on 'free consent of the parties' would then purposely exclude other citizens based on their sexual orientation.

What part of ‘adult’, ‘free’ and ‘consent’ do these legal experts have a difficulty understanding?

9 months later....

None of us is pregnant nor will we be expecting babies anytime soon. We’re still taking the usual precautions against that type of STD! Actually that’s how long it’s been since I started this blog. I must say it’s been one hell of a ride, very different from my usual writing that I do at another place. I’ve made great blogging friends and also had my eyes opened wide to the challenges that gay people face every day.

Along the way I’ve had invitations to parties which I haven’t been able to attend (too old), received death threats which I didn’t take seriously (anon is as useful as a limp dick) and had shocking offers of a good time from all sorts of men (now I know why men are six times more likely to be struck by lightning than women). And even some women who wanted to turn me into a nice straight man. I turned all of them down nicely. Including the ones offering gifts (I’m not sure I’m worth much anyway, lol!).

All in all I’m still enjoying blogging and learning stuff about myself and about people generally. I hope to keep this going for as long as I enjoy it. Some mean people call this blog ‘Diarrhea of a gay Kenyan’, ha ha haha.

So, whatever your thoughts just remember that Life is a grindstone. Whether it grinds us down or polishes us up depends on us - Thomas L Holdcroft.

I love you all. Peace. xxx xxx.

A silence that speaks volumes

My friend Cynthia Vukets, a Canadian journalist recently did interviews with a section of Kenyans from the LGBT community following the news of the Civil Partnership of Charles Ngengi and Daniel Gichia in the UK. You can view the full article on her blog http://lowdownonline.com/notebook-nairobi.

For me more questions are raised now that the dust seems to have settled. What did the media frenzy and the shameful attacks on the right to privacy achieve? Where was the support of our LGBT organisations in the aftermath when three people were physically attacked by homophobic thugs? What of the police when radio stations were calling for violence against gay citizens? Where have all the peace-loving Kenyans who fight for justice and fairness gone?

Gay baby's first words

Prada da-da!!!

999 say Mungiki Man might have been killed by XYZ

Some events are as predictable as me getting an erection from watching porn. I notice not many people have come out to publicly moan the murder of Mungiki spokesman Njuguna Gitau, and don’t expect me to either. That would be cynical considering I didn’t know the man nor do I knowingly associate with the Mungiki. Ever since he surfaced last year I often wondered for how long he would continue to freely front a proscribed group whose members have been accused of running extortion rackets whilst carrying out the most despicable of murders.

And yet something about the circumstances of his demise unsettles me: Perhaps because his killing has all the hallmarks of an assassination and elements of tacit endorsement by dark forces. This explanation of infighting within the sect lacks imagination and seems to me like a cop out. You’d have to be spectacularly foolish to carry out a crime of this magnitude in broad daylight, on a busy street that normally has a high presence of armed uniformed and plainclothes police and then casually saunter away.

‘Inconceivable’ doesn’t even come close.

Where is Oprah Winfrey in our hour of need?

It’s wonderful to see the number of people who are standing up to be counted as gay Kenyans fight for their rights. I applaud all of you, let me just mention some of these fearless torch-bearers who continue to question our society’s entrenched views: from cartoonist Gathara, Betty Caplan, Dr Paula Kahumbu, Prof Makau Mutua, Rasna Warah, Onyango-Obbo, Peter Mwaura, Cabral Pinto and many many others this illustrious list is growing by the day. Did I hear you say President Obama? Thank you all for choosing to stand firm on these important issues in the face of a hostile and hateful backlash.

The hour is now and the urgency has never been greater. What about you dear reader, can we count on your influence and support? Will you join our quest to end this discrimination of gay people?

Now, if only Oprah could lend her support....

Could this be a solution to Nairobi’s overheated property market?

I’ve been researching on suitable housing alternatives considering that very soon George and I plan to be living on a farm far away from the city. In recent years the price of property within the prime suburbs has escalated beyond all but the most resilient budgets. We initially considered shipping containers converted into living spaces but somewhere very deep in our minds lurks an image of being trapped inside one during an inferno and getting baked ‘oven’ style. Hardly our take on a spit roast.

So we moved on to study tents as a temporary fix but I’m not sure just how practical these structures would hold up in El-Nino type conditions. Just as I was giving up, voila we spotted this video of a tiny and functional house. We both think it’s beautiful, with all mod-cons and relatively inexpensive, now we are on the hunt for a builder.

Take a look at this plan. I think most loving couples would be cosy in one of these. On a 30 x 60 ft parcel there might even be room for a garden! Outside jacuzzi and barbecue? You bet!

I confess that Jay Shafer the designer of these masterpieces is easy on the eye too.

Heterophobia?

I overheard a conversation recently between two gay men: ‘Some of these straight Kenyan men are secretly grateful to learn that there are many gays in their midst. The reduced compe(tition) means they now stand a better chance of ever getting laid before they die.’

I was horrified to hear this wet and rather warm mind fart.

Nauseous.

Gays in love

Let me tell you about last week. George was off work with a chest infection. I found it difficult to stay focussed with my work , sick with worry. Monday and Tuesday evenings I slipped into my role as nurse, lovingly rubbbing some Vicks on his chest. Mind you just on the chest, lol. Thankfully the good doctor in Upperhill said it was only a mild infection nothing serious but to hear poor George you’d have thought he was at death’s door. So I played along dispensing large doses of Tamaku's 'medicine' - whisky, crushed ginger, honey from Chyulu hills (the honey from there is the best, I think Kenyan gay bees make it) and some lemon with hot water. Aaaaah. Even Imelda says she’s envious of how I spoil him but he’s all I’ve got so I don’t know how else to be.

Wednesday evening we arranged to meet in town after I’d finished work and then we went for a stimulating aromatherapy massage followed by a session in the steambath. It was the two of us and another youngish shy guy who accidentally let his towel slip to give us a flash of his fine nuggets but we weren’t interested. By this time we were both more than horny so we left the club which is off Loita Street and George drove us home fast via Hurlingham for some Chinese takeaway. When we got home it was after 8, we gave the bags of food to Imelda and said go ahead we’ll eat later. Then we went straight upstairs to our room. Boy, I can’t get enough of my guy and the sex is amazing too. Later I came downstairs and made us some bacon sandwiches because we didn’t feel like eating the noodles. Imelda loved them though.

On Thursday I’d promised George we’d go to the sports club for dinner after work but I completely forgot when meetings overrun. I arrived home after 9pm and there was no-one downstairs so I took my dinner from the oven and had it at the table in the kitchen alone. The house was quiet, I knew Imelda was in her annex probably doing some studying for the accountancy course she's doing. The only other light was in the stairwell from upstairs where I knew George was. When I got to the bedroom he was curled up in bed watching a dvd of Singing In the Rain which was almost coming to an end. He didn’t look too pleased and that’s when I remembered oh shit we were supposed to go out! I said I’m so sorry baby sweetie but he was having none of it, he just turned the other way and said turn the lights off when you come to bed.

I was feeling so guilty as I showered but I shouldn’t have been worried because when I slipped inside the warm bed all was forgiven. Believe me, nothing beats naughty-boy sex. The days when I lived alone and regularly came down with wanker’s cramp are well and truly in the past.