Me, addicted to blogging? Never, I’m too sensible for that. This morning at 2am while staring at the screen in the study I was shocked to see my ranking on afrigator.com drop from 48th in Kenya to 271! Oh the shame and indignity, how dare they? I know my rights!
Naturally I immediately fired off an email to Gator House, South Africa: "Dear Afrigator, I need to know who my friends are. You’ll have to choose between me and Todo sobre safaris, el blog de Paco León "(yes your typical Kenyan blog ranked at 36!). I’m still awaiting a reply though I notice my ranking has gone back to what it was yesterday. I can start eating again.
Last week the boyfriend said I’m spending too long online in the evenings after work. So I went online to check the effects of spending too much time online. An hour later I concluded that I need other activities to avoid getting ‘monitor tan’ or uttering ‘AMOF’ during client presentations.
So now I’ve rediscovered books. Yep, that archaic pastime calling reading. I dusted boxes stored away in the garage and now George and I sit some evenings just turning pages. He’s reading Sidney Sheldon’s Are You Afraid of the Dark? And I am engrossed again in The Painted Bird by Jerzy Kosinski which I first read 20 years ago. Next I’ve got Pimp by Iceberg Slim lined up. Both are great reads which I’m happy to be reunited with.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Picking up the pieces
Continued from here:
My head still spinning the first thing I did was to make Norma a noggin of whiskey mixed with hot water to calm her nerves. She took this in my office while I authorized a week’s emergency leave for her and made some phone calls. I had decided that it wasn’t fair she should be at work with all the turmoil and distress she was going through. She thanked me, hugging me awkwardly and I felt tears well up when she said, ‘Asante sana Tamaku, barikiwa’. Be blessed Tamaku. So extravagant of her. A lawyer friend of best buddy Mike said she would look into various legal aspects. Sheila (bless her) has agreed to negotiate with the cooperative's officials not to levy any interest on the loan until we can sort something out. I think it’ll have to be an office fundraiser for the rest of the money. Read on, I’m not about to tap you for a loan dear reader. Norma is a proud woman too, it’ll be a task to get her to agree to even take our money.
Later I met my mum for lunch at Epic restaurant, Tribe Hotel, because I just needed to see her. I told her everything I’ve told you and she was equally horrified and said she’ll send Rasta her fixer round to Norma’s to move her away from where she’s staying. Mum said to me that the money part is nothing, the shame and betrayal from her own daughter will be killing Norma, so it’ll help if she makes a clean break. And I said thanks so much mummy and of course I agreed because I know mum is always right.
When I got home I was so tired and emotionally drained. I spoke to Norma on the phone who agreed to move with her youngest child to a small flat that Rasta showed her in Umoja. She said she couldn’t bear to see the neighbours’ faces huddled in lowered tones when she went past. And the good news is it’s only costing a little more than what she’s been paying. Must remember to send Rasta the customary brown envelope with ‘something small’. And Norma says she wants to come back to the office on Monday because she’s worried who’s making our teas and coffees. I said firmly no, just spend time with your daughter, you need to.
I still feel sad thinking about it, why dear God, why? She loved these two people like life itself, why do you allow her to suffer like this?
My head still spinning the first thing I did was to make Norma a noggin of whiskey mixed with hot water to calm her nerves. She took this in my office while I authorized a week’s emergency leave for her and made some phone calls. I had decided that it wasn’t fair she should be at work with all the turmoil and distress she was going through. She thanked me, hugging me awkwardly and I felt tears well up when she said, ‘Asante sana Tamaku, barikiwa’. Be blessed Tamaku. So extravagant of her. A lawyer friend of best buddy Mike said she would look into various legal aspects. Sheila (bless her) has agreed to negotiate with the cooperative's officials not to levy any interest on the loan until we can sort something out. I think it’ll have to be an office fundraiser for the rest of the money. Read on, I’m not about to tap you for a loan dear reader. Norma is a proud woman too, it’ll be a task to get her to agree to even take our money.
Later I met my mum for lunch at Epic restaurant, Tribe Hotel, because I just needed to see her. I told her everything I’ve told you and she was equally horrified and said she’ll send Rasta her fixer round to Norma’s to move her away from where she’s staying. Mum said to me that the money part is nothing, the shame and betrayal from her own daughter will be killing Norma, so it’ll help if she makes a clean break. And I said thanks so much mummy and of course I agreed because I know mum is always right.
When I got home I was so tired and emotionally drained. I spoke to Norma on the phone who agreed to move with her youngest child to a small flat that Rasta showed her in Umoja. She said she couldn’t bear to see the neighbours’ faces huddled in lowered tones when she went past. And the good news is it’s only costing a little more than what she’s been paying. Must remember to send Rasta the customary brown envelope with ‘something small’. And Norma says she wants to come back to the office on Monday because she’s worried who’s making our teas and coffees. I said firmly no, just spend time with your daughter, you need to.
I still feel sad thinking about it, why dear God, why? She loved these two people like life itself, why do you allow her to suffer like this?
“You can keep your hat on”, pun Kenyan women
My jaw dropped when I read this, I nearly gagged on what it was I had in my mouth. Relax, there’s no bite left in this old dog. Apparently our long suffering women wish to put to bed the current political impasse by imposing, wait for it, a love boycott!
Visions of our politicians lying unlullabied in wicker cots wearingpink blue laced baby booties and dinky ribboned hats flashed through my mind. Add to that picture a set of swollen grubby digits twitching to the gnawing cries of ngeeee ngeee. Grossly aaaaaww. Gathara, I’m still waiting for the cartoon!
Visions of our politicians lying unlullabied in wicker cots wearing
Friday, May 1, 2009
Labour Joys
The number of street children in Nairobi is not as large as it was some 6 or so years ago but escalating poverty levels means that those abandoned are now returning to roam dangerous streets. Years ago I joined a men's group that supports a children’s charity home, heartbroken and frustrated from seeing innocent kids begging in a city that also shamelessly showcases the finest cars.
So a group of us spent a very rewarding Labour day visiting the kids rather than waste time watching the official ‘celebrations’ on TV. We went in a convoy of 8 cars, bearing gifts of provisions and soft drinks. The people who run the home are just wonderful, their angelic wards seemed naturally happy, smiling and playing just as in a family setting. We had a lunch of goat stew and rice with chapatis and afterwards the children put on a show for us. I can’t tell you enough the joy I felt watching them but also the sadness of what their own ‘natural’ parents are missing. I also felt a sadness that as a gay man I couldn’t enjoy these unique pleasures since adoption by gay men is automatically prohibited here. But I still had fun and even one of the boys was teaching me how to crip walk which was farcical given that I’m nearly 40 and not exactly nimble on my feet. I googled the moves Moses was showing me, you can see a good example below but please don’t ask to see my crashing version of it!
Since I got home we’ve had more drinks and I’m more than ʎsd!ʇ, I’ll post the rest of Norma’s story tomorrow. It turned out well in the end.
So a group of us spent a very rewarding Labour day visiting the kids rather than waste time watching the official ‘celebrations’ on TV. We went in a convoy of 8 cars, bearing gifts of provisions and soft drinks. The people who run the home are just wonderful, their angelic wards seemed naturally happy, smiling and playing just as in a family setting. We had a lunch of goat stew and rice with chapatis and afterwards the children put on a show for us. I can’t tell you enough the joy I felt watching them but also the sadness of what their own ‘natural’ parents are missing. I also felt a sadness that as a gay man I couldn’t enjoy these unique pleasures since adoption by gay men is automatically prohibited here. But I still had fun and even one of the boys was teaching me how to crip walk which was farcical given that I’m nearly 40 and not exactly nimble on my feet. I googled the moves Moses was showing me, you can see a good example below but please don’t ask to see my crashing version of it!
Since I got home we’ve had more drinks and I’m more than ʎsd!ʇ, I’ll post the rest of Norma’s story tomorrow. It turned out well in the end.
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