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Random and Random…and Update

Yesterday, I found myself at a loss as to what to do with this free time I suddenly find at my disposal. It was after lunch and before having to pick up my brother from school. A couple of hours of nothing to do at all – no commitments whatsoever. So I end up driving about aimlessly (Yup, Im forced to take to the wheel instead of being peddled around lol) Let me digress and tell you a little about Nairobi’s roads and driving styles. I think I can sum it up into “dysfunctional”! There are no lights on any of the roads save for the highways (or in your case, freeways) and how things work depend greatly on assumed right of way. There is absolutely nothing like courtesy, not from male nor female drivers. IF you want to get anywhere, you force your way through, to the point of bullying. There are these “matatus” (public transport mini-vans) that drive about as if they are a tangible death sentence. And they probably are, if the newspapers are anything to go by. Their reputation is so terrible that if you find yourself vying for your right of way at a junction, you’re stupid. Seriously, dont be foolhardy, just let them through – patience is virtuous. They say that if you can drive in Nairobi, you can drive anywhere else in the world. I dont know how true that is, but I think that’s inaccurate. Thinking about it – if you’re so used to anarchy, how do you simply conform to rules and regulations all of a sudden. On the other hand, when you’re so used to rules and regulations, anarchy is down right scary initially, then you get the hang of it and then…well, “if you cant beat ‘em, join ‘em” policy rings true.

Back to my meanderings now! You’re gonna have to read this lengthy blog through if you want to know the update on the anniv situation. lol. sorry for the torture.

After some aimless driving which served to do nothing but increase my heart rate I found myself ending up at the hospital. Ok, that didnt come out right. Sounded more sinister than intended. lol. The hospital in question, Aga Khan University Hospital isn’t just a hospital, isnt just a teaching hospital, it’s quite the place to go if you just want a convenient and cheap place to have lunch – The Doctor’s Plaza serves a buffet, and their sandwiches are just darn generous. A cup of coffee would cost you *mental calculation inserted here* approx. a quarter… and its good coffee too! Completely belies the general repuation of hospital food. lol.

For the sake of convenience too, the hospital houses a bank, florist shop cum confectionary story cum tiny cafe (thats serves the best chicken pies ever, but dang it those things are tiny, as small as your palm. lol. good things do come in small packages) and salon (though not sure about the congruity of this and hospital. Maybe you can shed some light?) in a separate wing that is compact. This is putting my descriptive capabilities to the test! lol. Ok, so there’s a sitting area made up of about five round tables and five comfortable, encushioned wicker chairs at each table. This sitting area is under a canopy of sorts but not completely so if you pick the right seat you have the blue blue sky as your ceiling. That’s where I chose to sit anyway, and enjoy a chilled (plastic) bottle of diet coke. It was a central position, perfect for simply watching the trickling string of people who came in and out of the bank – Diamond Trust, or the ladies who went into the salon – its frequented by a lot of Ismaili ladies (who nodded in my direction by way of greeting – yes, it’s always amazed me how easy it is for one Ismaili to spot another), yesterday seemed to be a good day for the owner was enjoying a raging business. Maybe because yesterday happened to be “Chaandraat” The night of the new moon. Very auspicious and a big event in khane (for those not in the know, please refer to blog entitled Its a Mental Thing for a brief introduction to what khane is) and that meant dressing in your best silks and jewellery and breaking out the debonair suits and Italian ties, even on a Monday. Societal norms. lol.

Ok steering away from religion…there was this lady who was sitting directly opposite me and dozing off. Have you ever truly watched a person doze off? Do you know just how comical it is..not the person, but the process – it starts out with your head down, chin on chest, then the chin rises slowly and with every inch upwards the lower jaw falls open wider and wider, at just the exact angle each time the head proceeds to tilt sideways and then a few seconds later the neck gives way and the head snaps back, and depending how asleep you are, a snore thus escapes or else you jolt awake to find a stranger looking at you, amused. Hehehe. Its comical and embarrassing. God, is it embarrassing! Another lady joined my table with a baby and proceeded to breast-feed, draping a security blanket on top of the baby while it suckles away happily, blissfully unaware of anything but the boob in its mouth and the warmth of the mother’s bossom against its teeny-tiny one. Such is the life, huh? lol.

This is by far, the laziest days of my life, and this is just how slow life can get over here, in Africa. If you can afford it anyway. Sigh. But one thing was for sure, I dont know if credit goes to the vista – red brick building in the distance with a lone great, green tree lingering adjacent and a blue, blue sky as a backdrop – or the warm sun (not really to be expected in the month of heavy rainfall) or the serene quiet ambience or the diet coke and absolutely delicious chicken pie (my mouth waters at the memory lol) or whatever but its the most peaceful I have felt in a while.

Ofcourse, restless me couldnt just sit there for hours on end and about half an hour later, Im off to the gym.

This is going to be a loooong blog, so let me fast-forward and give you that update. Firstly, thank you for all your ideas and well-wishes and stuff. Really appreciate it.

So, as it turns out, we met up later in khane – amidst enough drama but dont want to drag this blog on – and she told me she didnt want to celebrate an anniversary the way birthdays are celebrated where everybody pretends there isnt one coming up, pretends not to acknowledge it, and then on the day – boom bang grandeur … and all along, the person already knew what to expect. An anniversary is about two people so the two people should decide together what to do to celebrate it. So we decided together that we would do something lowkey and simple, enjoying things we both enjoy – food, songs, movies, shopping, galavanting etc

On 28th, taking your advice, I have ordered a classy bouquet of flowers to be delivered to her place of work…and Im thinking of popping in too and whisking her off to lunch at one of our favourites places. I bought a pair of shoes today, which I am quite confident she will adore. I cant take credit for it though, I was in the shop randomly picking up shoes and wondering what the fuss is about when I saw a pair that looked quite nice and when I lifted one up from the display, two women stopped by to admire it, gasping and drooling. lol. Well, I took the cue and bought it. I know she listens to the radio on the drive home so I’m going to call in a dedication with the stuff I wrote in the introduction of the previous blog. We decided to camp out at my place, in the evening and watch rented DVDs of the latest flicks we have missed out on watching at the cinema, order-in some chinese or pizza. I probably described it in a boring way, but like you’ve said so yourselves, the key idea is spending time together, being together… and I romanticize the idea of ‘shutting the world out’ and being in ‘our own lil coccoon’ so to speak.

Let’s pray things go as planned and nothing happens to disrupt this ideal day.

Now I have to figure out why this fireplace isn’t working right. Smoke isnt going out the chimney but filling into the house. lmao.

Im sorry if I dont get round to your pages. I hope to before I take another ‘t
ravel-break’ away from 360.

AH..AAH..AAAAH (pause) chi.

Meet Wilbert. lol. He’s smiling, isn’t he?

He made me smile too, when he pressed his face into the jeep’s window. Must have seen the sandwich my colleague was waving about while urging the driver to honk his way through the herd of zebras. We had gone off the usual murram road ’cause it was flooded due to the rains so we had no choice to ride into the grassy terrain. However, that was risky too, not on account of the animals only but because it was super muddy too and there was a 3-1 chance of getting knee-deep in something equivalent of quick sand. Luckily, that didn’t happen. Instead we got blocked by a herd of zebras and branch gazelles, who for some bizarre reason weren’t afraid of the big bad jeep. Maybe it was because we were encroaching on their territory. We tried to manuever round them but it seriously felt like they were deliberately moving in front of us each time, just to spite us. So we gave up and had scrummaged through our lunch boxes (following in the steps of above-mentioned colleague who was already munching into his apple for dessert) and ate our lunch surrounded by babboons, zebras, branch gazelles, impalas and a lone warthog.

I think I fell alseep because the next thing I knew we had reached our destination and all was well.

This is just a titbit that came to mind. Thought I would share something as I had an urge to blog and nothing much to say except rant about my being so down with this flu (Im a wuss when it comes to sicknesses lol). The thing about having these ordinarily regular ailments is that it’s actually fun to mess about with ingredients and put together the wierdest concoctions to make you feel better. My roomie just made me gulp down something that tasted so horrible I thought I was going to die with distaste Ugh. Yuck. Ok that wasn’t fun. Oh and I must remember to apply Vicks to the arches on my sole and wear socks before I go to bed. Ye-ah, I’m smiling too.

So do you have your own homemade remedies you’d like to share?

I might take some time to get back to your comments. It’s the nausea, heachaches, watering eyes and uncomfortable feeling that comes with high fever that’s to blame.

But ya know I heart ya all, right?!

Cheers.

Je, Hakuna Matata…ama?

Don’t you just lurve the rain?? Ok, maybe not that cold, icy, icky kind of down pour but I’m talking real summertime, soaking-to-the-skin-in-ten-seconds-flat, warm and er, wet! lol. Too bad I forgot I had left my reports and other documents out on the terrace where I had been enjoying the breeze and the limn – oh the heavenly limn, could there be a more beautiful sight? I think I’m in love with limn…hehe. No worries tho, a lil hair dryer action and much was salvaged. I did have to start again – yes, I write my drafts out first, then switch on the laptop and type. it’s easier that way, don’t you find? or are you more comfortable typing straight off? – which is my excuse for delivering this blog today instead of yesterday like I had meant to…altho you wouldnt have known that if I hadnt told you that right now… I’m rambling arent I? lol. NRT anyone??

I had the weekend off which is why I’ve been popping in every now and again. Sorry, not back yet. But will be, soon enough! Anyway, so yesterday I decided I wanted to do something I hadnt ever done, something that would put me out there with the locals, something that would be fun but also a learning experience and as I was pondering all the possible activities at my disposal, it came to me with a snap of my fingers – Fishing!!

Hold on, just trying to picture your individual reactions. I’m imagining surprise, a lil eh?, and a lil huh?, someone just went dude!, another rolled her eyes @ me :O lol

I digress. Anyway, let me explain further..I’m not refering to the quiet, laidback experience of sitting about on a boat waiting for a trout to aimless and stupidly bite on some bait…I’m talking hardcore fishing, an activity upon which your livelihood depends. I’m talking fishing, the African way!

I made friends with the locals so it wasnt too difficult to find a fisherman who would take this ignorant muhindi [swahili for indian...mzungu is swahili for white/european/caucasian] and teach him the basics of working to put food on the table. I wont say it was a normal sight to see, in fact there was a lot of finger-pointing going on and, as with many close-knit communities, a lot of unsubtle questioning and gossip. lol. Now my Swa isnt quite all that polished but I daresay there were some bets going on around, as to what, well I can only imagine. Can you?

I clambered into this *ahem* sorry excuse of a canoe..it resembled a canoe in its narrow width and long length but it wasn’t quite as…what can I say, sophisticated? Can a canoe really be called sophisticated, really? How about a raft? Can I call it a makeshift-canoe-wannabe-raft-definitely-not-a-boat-but-perhaps-a-long-slightly-hollowed-piece-of-wood? Quite a mouthful eh? lol. I clambered into this vessel [aha!] and my newly acquainted rafiki [swahili for friend] pushed the “vessel” off the shore and we glided out to open Ocean. He steadily rowed us to some coordinates that I could not have picked up from any map for the life of me. Then he pulled in his oar/spade/stick-with-a-semi-flat-end (looked to me like a XL mwiko [swahili for wooden spatula] and told me in no uncertain terms that there was a treasure-load of fish at this spot. Actually, he just went, “ssssh, samaki.” I just figured the rest was implied. Quite out of the blue, he started humming something – which I later came to know as the “smuziki” or as I would have referred to it, fish song. It was soft, nothing forceful, just very lullaby-esque. If I were a poet I would say, he was lulling the fish out of hiding as the piper lulled the women out of the kingdom. I looked over the edge, forgetting how cramped my legs were after sitting, quite literally, chin to knees for almost an hour…plus my back was itchy and I couldnt feel my butt. lol. There were – dammit whats the collective noun??!! – shoals? schools? erm erm … of fish around us!! It was like peering into a goldfish pond except these weren’t goldfish, these were ..oh hell, they’re all fish anyhow!

He tapped my foot lightly and with the softest instruction, he picked up one edge of the fishing net and gave me the other. Together we stood – him steadily, me barely steadily – and we cast the net. I smiled with pride. The net went over in the perfect curve and landed with the most musical slap into the water, over the er, group of fish, entrapping them. Then quickly as we could, well we were supposed to, we hauled the net back towards us and we quite nearly had hauled the hoard right into the vessel when my bare foot slipped. I have pathetic balance issues. bluegh. Anyway, I landed right into the water, quite frankly I landed right into the middle of the net and got entangled in it thus freeing all our, well his, catch of the day. This was much to the amusement of the boys who had accompanied their fathers on the other vessels nearby, as well as their fathers, but not to the amusement of my rafiki who realized with heartbreaking devastation that letting this ignorant muhindi accompany him on his scavange for food for his family probably wasnt in the best interest of his family.

Safe but soaked, shocked and loaded with chagrin, but thankfully no fish in my shorts, we reached the shore again…I had scared all the good fish away for the day, so he couldnt try again, or maybe he could but he didnt want a repeat of that incident. I figured I couldnt let this guy go home without something to eat so I invited him to join me for a nyama choma [literally burnt meat, but actually bbq-ed meat] by the docks, a Sunday’s favourite and extensive fun and fair kind of gig, and extended the invite to his family too [all tisa [nine] of them].

Being a close-knit community of fishermen, around 30 – 40 people turned up to be fed by this ignorant muhindi, leading me to believe this was indeed the most expensive fishing trip I’d embarked on. LOL.

They’re back…

The smell of dirt, face cowering in a trench,

…he turns

The stench of fear overpowering that of sweat, closely packed bodies, various sizes, one trench.

…he turns

There is no silence, yet it descends upon, silently like death. Death descends.

…he turns

A woman’s lament, a child’s crying, a man’s anguish

…he turns

A sudden surge of unrest, not safe a trench anymore. Run, run for your life, chaos ensues.

…he turns, sweating

People all over, either brandishing weapons or falling to the feet of Death.

Chaos ensued, death met, cruel, gruel, inhumane, fires aburning, homes in smoke, blood sheddeth a fountain, savages baring teeth, the chase is on…

…he turns, breathing laboured, heart pounding

Dust in the eyes, mind unfocused, hands and legs uncoordinated.

….he turns, teeth clenched, jaw tightened

The sound of a dagger missing its mark by centimetres

Swish

…the curtain rustles in the gentle breeze

…he turns, eyes open, glazed

A trap, a tree root, evil root.

Thud

…he sits up, shaking

Eyes watering, pain inflicted.

not yet…

A hand, a stranger, a hand stranger than his own, offered.

Slashed, steel sharp as a dagger, stronger than an axe…slash

Slash

…his breathing stops, pupils dilate

Blood spilling terror, no more, no more, cowering, wishing, praying an end

Screaming…his own

An end, at what cost?

They’re back.

The night terrors are back.

….of tales to tell

This story I am about to embark on just amazed me so, but I’d actually just like to get your reactions to it:

Ok first off, it’s a translation of a prayer-song that was recited in Khane today, written by the much respected and admired Pir Sidardeen [if I start to explain who he is, this will turn out to be a blog within a blog lol, maybe next time] and it’s kinda like a fable with some very moral concepts.

*flexes fingers* well, here goes!

There was a cow in the jungle, minding her own business, whiling away the time until she was required to go home to feed her calf when a lion pounced upon her and before he sank his teeth into her neck and broke her body, he told her, “Today, your meat is what I am destined to eat; you cannot run away from death which has finalized today” The cow whimpered and begged the lion, “Have mercy O King, and patience. I give you my word I shall be your meal today but first let me go and feed my calf, I have a duty to him before I die.”

The lion considered this and accepted. Within four steps, the cow reached the edge of the jungle, crossed the river, entered its shed and clambered over to her calf [there is some significance here I have yet to fathom about the four steps...any wild guesses?]. She told her calf to quickly partake of her milk because she was bound by her promise to the lion that she would be back to be eaten. The calf refused to drink the milk and instead insisted on escorting his mother to her death row.

Upon reaching the place where the cow had left the lion, and before the cow presented herself to him, the calf stood before the lion and told the majestic beast to eat him first because he was younger and his flesh would be more tasty and nutritious. The lion was taken aback. He asked the lil one where he got this knowledge, this humility, this sense of sacrifice from. The calf told him that the moon and the stars, the wind and the sun, nature all round had taught him his humanity and Pir Sadirdeen had given him the knowledge [Im guessing here, by association I would be the calf and therefore Pir Sadirdeen is providing me with this knowledge].

The lion was so impressed that he declared the cow to be his sister and the calf to be his nephew and vowed to protect them from all the evils and dangers of the world.

It’s kinda like those stories we tell our children, but since this was actually a song and damn I wish I had a recording for you, you’d actually be amazed at how moving it is..even if you perhaps cant understand it.

So what have you picked up?

I’ve so far seen the importance of being a man of my word, being humble and sacrificial, accepting of that which I cannot change … but I know there is so much that is underlying. Help me ponder this one out

It’s a mental thing…

Do you have one of those such memories? You know, of an incident that’s left its mark, good, bad, thought-provoking, emotionally-provoking, numbing or on the flip of the coin, just down right amusing?

There are plenty, I suppose, a whole kaleidoscopic array to pick from…but this one is just a classic! I don’t know if I will succeed to emphasing why this is the case, mostly because these things tend to be personal and it’s not always easy to get another to see one’s point of view, but you, my readers, are such a wonderful group, I just have to make the effort! lol

This happened about two to three years back. The setting of this scene plays an important role so let me try and describe it to you. Please bear with it, might get a lil tedious. I feel as if I am suffering from – what Tangy likes to call – NRT: Neurotic Rambling Tendancies. lol

An Ismaili place of prayer is quite unlike the more well-known Muslim mosque. For instance, this place of prayer is called a JamatKhana [Jamat meaning community and Khana meaning house] and both women and men are required to attend. Attendance in Jamatkhana is mandatory, everyday in the evenings especially. Now this is not just a place of prayer, but also a place of congregation. As the Aga Khan [who is the Spiritual Leader of the Ismaili sect] has put it, in his speech made during the opening ceremony of the Ismaili Centre in Dubai in March 2008 – “this building exists fundamentally as a place for peaceful contemplation, but one that is set in a social context. It is not a place to hide from the world, but rather a place which inspires us to engage our worldly work as a direct extension of our faith”.

There are three such JamatKhanas in Nairobi, the oldest being the one located in the Town area. It was built in 1902 and is a three storey stone building with wooden interiors. This is our main place of attendance btw. The ground floor is where the social congregations happen, it is also where we have to leave our shoes The first floor is where the evening ceremonies take place and the second floor is where the early morning ceremonies take place.

Ok, lemme just cut to the chase now I was sitting on a chair outside on the landing or rather foyer that leads to the inner compartment where the prayers are actually held but because of the PA system its possible to hear the prayers even if you are on the ground floor. Again, and on an aside, the way prayers are conducted in an Ismaili mosque is completely different from that in the other mosques – there’s no “namaz” for instance. Anyway, I digress (sorry). I was sitting on a chair “outside” because I was suffering from a banged up knee (skiing expedition gone wrong – smacked into a tree and just so happened, tore the seat of my pants lol but that is a story for another time) and Tang was sitting down beside the chair. In front of us, was the area reserved, although not formally, for women with young children. They sit there so as to not keep interrupting the proceedings inside everytime a baby starts wailing and the poor flustered mother has to rush out in an effort to hush it. Also, young children can somewhat freely move about without disturbing the other people who are deep in their spiritual contemplation. At the doorway, there was a “volunteer”, standing “guard”, alert and scanning the crowd inside incase anyone needed any kind of assistance whether it was an old lady who needed a glass of water, or simply scanning the crowd to make sure proper and appropriate behaviour was being maintained during the proceedings. In this JamatKhana, there is this one volunteer who rules the roost. One may call her, Lady Hitler, others call her, Kaluti (idk as yet lol) and my dad likes to refer to her as “Kalnayka”. Whenever it is her duty, she wears her volunteer’s uniform proudly and always, always takes her position in the open door. A figure of dislike, mostly due to the instinctal prejudice we all tend to have towards figures of authority but also due to the fact she’s a bit of a Lady Hitler, she stands there dominating, and brooding, her eyes working the crowd like an eagle’s. Or perhaps they were closed in concentration of the prayer-song going on, it would be hard to tell.

Anyway, so we’ve got the scenario andwe’ve got the victim. Let’s get on with the unforgettable incidence.

There was one child on the carpeted floor who simply caught my attention. (yes yes shame on me for not concentrating on my prayers, lol, but I couldnt have and Im not going to pretend about it ) and what caught my attention was that she wasnt fidgeting around like her age-mates, she wasnt passing things around, or eating cheerios from a plastic tin, or colouring, or emptying the contents of mummy’s purse much to mummy’s chagrin. She was sitting, cross-legged on the floor like a good lil angel, all brooding and observant. The prayer-song ended and there was a 45-second silence in which the person chosen to say the next prayer in the proceedings gets up on stage and settles down to begin. During this time, and mind you my eyes never left the kid, she suddenly gets up, her cute curls bouncing with energy, and runs towards Kalnayka and give her a smart smack on her behind, then comes running back and sits in her mother’s lap like a “good lil innocent girl”

LMAO. I still dont know what was soo funny about it that it left such an unforgettable impression: Was it the mother’s embarrassment or Kalnayka being in a predicament she had never been in before which was a first or the fact that the lil girl did what we all would have liked to do ourselves but never dared – something Freudian and having to do with projection…hmm wishful thinking becoming reality? lol. But throughout the rest of the proceedings Tang and I just couldnt stop giggling. We could have nearly injured ourselves with all that laughter-supression. Prolly seemed childish to the others to be laughing at that so much, but the thing is, the others around didnt see the event unfold the way we did. We actually saw the plan being put into action, although we didnt know it at the time, plus it was all kind of spontaneous if you think about it, and absolutely, totally unexpected. Uncalled for too, because this poor victimised woman hadnt even admonished her lil adversary or anything like that. It was just so random! Gawd, I love kids! haha

So tell me of one or more of our unforgettable memories, whatever kind…just share!

It’s a mental thing…

Do you have one of those such memories? You know, of an incident that’s left its mark, good, bad, thought-provoking, emotionally-provoking, numbing or on the flip of the coin, just down right amusing?

There are plenty, I suppose, a whole kaleidoscopic array to pick from…but this one is just a classic! I don’t know if I will succeed to emphasing why this is the case, mostly because these things tend to be personal and it’s not always easy to get another to see one’s point of view, but you, my readers, are such a wonderful group, I just have to make the effort! lol

This happened about two to three years back. The setting of this scene plays an important role so let me try and describe it to you. Please bear with it, might get a lil tedious. I feel as if I am suffering from – what Tangy likes to call – NRT: Neurotic Rambling Tendancies. lol

An Ismaili place of prayer is quite unlike the more well-known Muslim mosque. For instance, this place of prayer is called a JamatKhana [Jamat meaning community and Khana meaning house] and both women and men are required to attend. Attendance in Jamatkhana is mandatory, everyday in the evenings especially. Now this is not just a place of prayer, but also a place of congregation. As the Aga Khan [who is the Spiritual Leader of the Ismaili sect] has put it, in his speech made during the opening ceremony of the Ismaili Centre in Dubai in March 2008 – “this building exists fundamentally as a place for peaceful contemplation, but one that is set in a social context. It is not a place to hide from the world, but rather a place which inspires us to engage our worldly work as a direct extension of our faith”.

There are three such JamatKhanas in Nairobi, the oldest being the one located in the Town area. It was built in 1902 and is a three storey stone building with wooden interiors. This is our main place of attendance btw. The ground floor is where the social congregations happen, it is also where we have to leave our shoes The first floor is where the evening ceremonies take place and the second floor is where the early morning ceremonies take place.

Ok, lemme just cut to the chase now I was sitting on a chair outside on the landing or rather foyer that leads to the inner compartment where the prayers are actually held but because of the PA system its possible to hear the prayers even if you are on the ground floor. Again, and on an aside, the way prayers are conducted in an Ismaili mosque is completely different from that in the other mosques – there’s no “namaz” for instance. Anyway, I digress (sorry). I was sitting on a chair “outside” because I was suffering from a banged up knee (skiing expedition gone wrong – smacked into a tree and just so happened, tore the seat of my pants lol but that is a story for another time) and Tang was sitting down beside the chair. In front of us, was the area reserved, although not formally, for women with young children. They sit there so as to not keep interrupting the proceedings inside everytime a baby starts wailing and the poor flustered mother has to rush out in an effort to hush it. Also, young children can somewhat freely move about without disturbing the other people who are deep in their spiritual contemplation. At the doorway, there was a “volunteer”, standing “guard”, alert and scanning the crowd inside incase anyone needed any kind of assistance whether it was an old lady who needed a glass of water, or simply scanning the crowd to make sure proper and appropriate behaviour was being maintained during the proceedings. In this JamatKhana, there is this one volunteer who rules the roost. One may call her, Lady Hitler, others call her, Kaluti (idk as yet lol) and my dad likes to refer to her as “Kalnayka”. Whenever it is her duty, she wears her volunteer’s uniform proudly and always, always takes her position in the open door. A figure of dislike, mostly due to the instinctal prejudice we all tend to have towards figures of authority but also due to the fact she’s a bit of a Lady Hitler, she stands there dominating, and brooding, her eyes working the crowd like an eagle’s. Or perhaps they were closed in concentration of the prayer-song going on, it would be hard to tell.

Anyway, so we’ve got the scenario andwe’ve got the victim. Let’s get on with the unforgettable incidence.

There was one child on the carpeted floor who simply caught my attention. (yes yes shame on me for not concentrating on my prayers, lol, but I couldnt have and Im not going to pretend about it ) and what caught my attention was that she wasnt fidgeting around like her age-mates, she wasnt passing things around, or eating cheerios from a plastic tin, or colouring, or emptying the contents of mummy’s purse much to mummy’s chagrin. She was sitting, cross-legged on the floor like a good lil angel, all brooding and observant. The prayer-song ended and there was a 45-second silence in which the person chosen to say the next prayer in the proceedings gets up on stage and settles down to begin. During this time, and mind you my eyes never left the kid, she suddenly gets up, her cute curls bouncing with energy, and runs towards Kalnayka and give her a smart smack on her behind, then comes running back and sits in her mother’s lap like a “good lil innocent girl”

LMAO. I still dont know what was soo funny about it that it left such an unforgettable impression: Was it the mother’s embarrassment or Kalnayka being in a predicament she had never been in before which was a first or the fact that the lil girl did what we all would have liked to do ourselves but never dared – something Freudian and having to do with projection…hmm wishful thinking becoming reality? lol. But throughout the rest of the proceedings Tang and I just couldnt stop giggling. We could have nearly injured ourselves with all that laughter-supression. Prolly seemed childish to the others to be laughing at that so much, but the thing is, the others around didnt see the event unfold the way we did. We actually saw the plan being put into action, although we didnt know it at the time, plus it was all kind of spontaneous if you think about it, and absolutely, totally unexpected. Uncalled for too, because this poor victimised woman hadnt even admonished her lil adversary or anything like that. It was just so random! Gawd, I love kids! haha

So tell me of one or more of our unforgettable memories, whatever kind…just share!

In the LooLight: Flushing around the World.

The pic above was taken at a bar in Bangalore in India. Dont u just luv the innuendos? LMAO. Thanks Tee. You come up with classics.

Just wanted to change the blog because my girlfriend told me to [She's frightfully busy and didnt want me to end up looking foolish,lol, but yes, she got the mssg. Maybe shes just too shy to pour her heart out ]

Anyway what better thing to write about than something that’s been on my mind for a while. I am finally plucking all my courage to express it now.

Now if you’re not comfortable discussing business that goes on in the washroom, this is probably the cue for you to scoot along to more pleasant blogs… about flowers, and love, or Rog’s erotica.. lol.

During the last year, I had been fortunate to get a chance to travel quite a bit all over the world, from East Africa southwards to Mozambique on my way to the rice fields of Sofia in Madagascar, stopping over in South Africa only to head on a couple of months later to Dubai, swerving directions and heading to the United States of America, and then on to the illustrious cities where half my lineage of ancenstors hail from – India – and immediately heading on to Bangladesh [where I had my first experience of being slapped by a woman (accidentally ofcourse lol)], taking a breather for a few and roaming closer to work-home i.e. Europe, basically England and then Portugal, taking another breather and heading to the other region where the other half of my ancestors hail from – The Middle East, was taken completely by surprise in Syria [read previous blogs] and falling in love with the River Panj in Tajikistan, then doing a long-haul jump over the oceans that separate the continents and landing in Canada [where my sister lives, saw my niece for the first time in 8 yrs and my oh my isnt she the most adorable thang ever!] which was such a lightning trip Idk how four cities were traversed in so little time, did another long-haul jump over the waters and found myself in Singapore where I had a blast eating the best chicken wings I have ever eaten in my entire life @ 3 in the morning. lol.

But this is not a travel blog. Atleast not this time round. This time round I would like to touch on the differences between the plumbing facilities around the world. Seriously, this was worth being amazed about. Atleast to me, it is.

Back home, in good ole Kenya, I remember growing up in this house that was probably constructed during the colonial times. The toilet had a flush-hold that had to be yanked from above. Nowadays, the flush-hold, which is a basic silver lever, is located on the tank itself. Ofcourse, if you move away from the metropolitan cities like Nairobi, Nakuru, Kisumu, Mombasa into the rural areas you move from the latrines, which are holes in the ground, to bushes. The idea of bushes teleports me to Tajikistan [blogged about a particular incident in one of my previous blogs] where one had to finally resort to the bush on the 24 hourish drive from the capital, Dushanbe, to the headquaters of development in the mountaneous regions of Pamir, Khorog. Even though, Khorog cannot be called rural in comparison to the little villages that one comes across on the way. Neither is it a slum, nope, far from that. Anyway, not to go off on a tangent, the toilet facilities varied there too. On the outskirts, one had to use these latrine-esque structures which looked quite like those shown in the now widely renowned Slumdog Millionaire, except though if Jamal were to jump thru the hole in this case, he would have a hard time climbing out of the deeper hole/trench in the ground. [That scene btw made me kinda sick. Not to mention I was eating my dinner at the time]. The kind people of the town itself who are more than hospitable and invited us to use their facilities had the olden kind of yank-that-chain toilets.

Other areas, the slightly more developed ones but not altogether developed, had the push-that-button flush located on top of the tank. The button itself is divided into two sections, one for normal flush and one for super-flush. I think you can figure out when each is used.

I am taking a moment to compose myself. Excuse me.

We then move on to the facilities in Dubai, well more so the facilities at the Dubai International Airport. Can’t recall much about the facilities within the city but I’m sure Fay may have something to add there. These toilets are technologically advanced. They have this infrared sensory device kind of thing whence you have finished your business you have to cover the black glass/metalic patch on the wall above the toilet. The toilet automatically flushes as a result. Seen this kind of devices in airplanes as well, particularly Air Canada.

Ah Canada, Canada holds some amusing memories where the washroom is concerned. I dont know if the toilets are standard throughout the entire country but the ones in Calgary, Vancouver, Toronto, and the capital…um I just went blank. lmao. Starts with O..Ottawa [TG for Google, but goodness cant believe myself here!] all worked on the same mechanism. I’m not sure I really figured it out really, was strange to have the toilet flushing everytime you moved a muscle that was cramped. Even without having finished, you would hear the unmistakable sound of the water rushing in under you, and sometimes you would have to really stop yourself from jumping reflexively when that cold water made contact with your warm skin down there. Just saying. So much for water and energy conservation huh?

Anyway, the whole saga got my mind thinking…ah finally you’ll realise I’m not quite the sicko and there’s some deep-rooted food for thought for everything..even the loo…as I was saying, it got me thinking about humans and our need to create these things. We needed to move on from the latrines and pitholes because obviously those are unhygienic, so we created this wonderful plumbing miracle we call the toilet, but got so bugged by the lever mechanism getting broken that we made use of the sensory motion advent and created the sensing-flusher. lol. Then those had some kind of flaw whereby try as hard as you may, hit the device as hard as you may, move your hand to and fro in front of it as if you were frantically waving “goodbye, I have an important meeting Im late for, darn it, just freakin flush already!!” it would not sense your urgency, and there being no manual back-up you were left to take that walk of humiliation out of there, warn the others waiting in line that the loo you used was clogged and find some maintenance dude to fix it. So we can up with the “flush immediately your ass is off the seat” kind of system only to find that you’re barely done and loo’s worked the water in such that by the end of your business, the darn thing has flushed like 7 times and you come out of the cubicle to see the person waiting for you peering at you rather quizzically.

Public toilets, cant do with them, cant do without them. Same thing can be said for women I hear. And well, men too

I’m just wondering what will come next? Or maybe the next generation of loos are here and I havent had the pleasure of using them yet?

What say you?

February 14, 2009 ~ Teri Ore [Towards You]

My Dearest, most Adorable, most Lovable and Loving Valentine,

This is the second year running that we’ve spent V Day physically apart, and I really didnt want it that way. I was all set to surprise you with an unexpected visit, just the way you did on my birthday in December, but circumstances dictated such that all efforts failed, right from getting a puncture on the way to the airport to missing the flight to delays and delays of alternative flights and so on and so forth, and now I give up and return, disappointed. I just want you to know that I miss you, and I really wanted to spend this day with you even if it meant completely abandoning schedules – which I know you wouldnt approve of because of your sensible and considerate nature. All the more reason to be in love with you.

Now I know you’re wondering what this corny blog is all about, and that I could have told you this over the phone [um your cell's dead I think] or sent you an email [done] but its so much definitive this way isnt it? lol.

I mean, what other medium is there that is both personal and public to tell you that I love you and make sure everybody knows it?

I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day. Even though I was not present in person, I am with you in my mind, soul and heart.

And what better way to express myself than to post a good ole romantic poem [courtesy Dina] by the one and only

Jelaludin Rumi

13^th century Philosopher, Poet Extraordinaire

I am your moon and your moonlight too

I am your flower garden and your water too.

I have come all this way eager for you,

without shoes or shawl.

I want you to laugh, to kill all your worries, to love you, to nourish you.

Oh sweet bitterness, I will soothe you and heal you.

I will bring you roses. I too have been covered with thorns.

I am your lover, come to my side, I will open the gate to your love.

Come settle with me, let us be neighbors to the stars.

You have been hiding so long, endlessly drifting in the sea of my love.

Even so, you have always been connected to me.

Concealed, revealed, in the unknown, in the un-manifest.

I am life itself. You have been a prisoner of a little pond,

I am the ocean and its turbulent flood. Come merge with me,

leave this world of ignorance. Be with me, I will open the gate to your love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlAESCxamzQ