Another New Year - for CHARLENE WAHU (1/8/1993 - 27/4/2010)

wrote this piece over a year ago...and still Charlene  you are missed

TAKEN

One time I asked you why you left boarding school

And you said it felt like prison

And that you were meant to be free

Well. I guess you are now

Last time we spoke was a few minutes after the New Year

You called me

Just like you always did every New Year

Since I have known you

I never called

Maybe coz I thought there was time

Maybe coz I thought people like you never die

You maybe physically gone Charlene

But in the hearts of those whose life you touched

You will still laugh

You will still sing

You will still hug

You will still be a daughter, a sister. A cousin…a friend

And in my heart

You will still call me

A few minutes after the coming new year

And a few minutes after

Every New Year

Rest in Peace CHARLENE

my village crush

I must have been eight or nine and my grandmother would take me with her to church. I still did not like church much then but it was fun playing outside with other children with the excuse of Sunday school and it always got me a treat later for being a good boy.

I must have met her there. She was dazzling with her white pompous little dress, red socks and black little girl shoes. She was dark and beautiful. Her hair was always plaited in simple neat cornrows that met at the top of her head and formed somewhat of a knot.

Her mother was a friend to my grandmother and my family. My mother had grown up here with her mother. Her mother knew my name. She smiled and blushed shyly and coquettishly. Two deep dimples on each of her cheeks would appear every time she did.

I would meet her often at church or when they came visiting my grandmother. I would go home when school was on and whenever I visited again she would always be there. Her skin dark and beautiful. Her enchanting smile with dimples ever so deep.

I saw her a lot growing up as well. She was prettier each time. At holidays, at funerals, at weddings. Functions at her place. Functions at mine. She was there when my grandmother died too. A silent, unspoken but ever so present liking between us.

I must have been fifteen or sixteen when I lost fascination with the village. My grandmother no longer there and the animals had long seized being fun. I still saw her every now and then; still dazzling. Hormones were here now but I never stayed long enough.

Visits reduced to once a year or none at all. And I haven’t seen her in ages. Thoughts of her no longer present. Other beautiful girls met. Lives moved on…Came here this holidays and needed airtime. Decided to take a walk to the village shop.

The shop hasn’t changed a tad since I was a child. A small wooden structure with a small window as the counter. The counter still has meshed wire and a single wooden rod across it. A small square hole on the mesh at the right bottom corner for transactions.

There was a nice lady at the shop. A child on her back and two others on her trail. One tagging at her dress. The lady looked haggard but decent. Colorful cloth on her head, black simple shoes. I smiled politely, and waited for my turn at the counter.

I did not see her staring but I heard her call out my name. “Eugene!” must be one of the cousins or family friends I thought taking out my ear phones. In simple neat Swahili “Eugene, don’t you remember me? Its Grace don’t you remember me?”

She is darker than I remember. There are fatigue creases on her forehead. Her smile is still beautiful but the dimples have been replaced by strain lines. She looks tired and nothing like the girl I played with at Sunday school. She has four kids she tells me.

She laughs and asks about my hair. I ask about her kids. She asks about life and what’s new. I ask about her kids. She asks about my family; cousins. I ask about her kids. It gets awkward pretty fast seeing that I can’t stop staring and that we’ve both bought our wares.

Ill at ease, we say our goodbyes. The baby is crying about something. We walk our different ways. Me with my airtime. Her with her whatever she came to buy. I can’t help but look back over my shoulder. She’s looking too. I walk faster.

My village crush.

2011 for me

As always when the year comes to an end, it s time to evaluate one’s self…failures, successes, achievements, acquaintances made, those lost and whatnot. Its cliché yes but I know no better timely scope with which to gauge with. Weeks are too short…months appear too frequently and birthdays are far too drunk and unruly for any kind of straight thought. Besides, end of years give us an opportunity to meet up with most of family and whether we say it or not, rejoice in those you’ve surpassed and bitch about those who have surpassed you.

2011 went by pretty fast and was probably one of my most exciting years (after that year I lost my virginity and the one I moved out). It’s been the year with most responsibilities, not quite the most fun but a good amount of it too. I lost and made tones of money. I lost a few and made a new bunch of friends. I partied in Kampala, froze in Karen and glared my eyes out in Tahiti. I had lunch in my balcony, shagged in a bus, got drugged in my living room and puked in someone’s bed in kahawa sukari.

All in all the experiences were wide and vast and cannot all be generally discussed in one or 79 articles. I’ll break them down to the most significant topics, lessons if you will, that have made the most influence in my life in that past year…their order is not necessarily in importance but what comes to mind first.

Responsibility

What I said in the last phrase does not apply to this because I do put responsibility first as matter of importance. This word simplified means being morally accountable for one’s behavior or act. Now, my father passed away this year and I felt absolutely nothing. At least not in regards of him being my father. As a matter of fact the only time I have used the term father in reference to him was in writing (not to him) and when referring to him to a person who didn’t know his name.

The reason I felt nothing is not because I am a feeling-less bastard who does not feel sad when people die (also I am) but its because other than a sperm or two, the guy made no other mentionable contribution to my life. And it’s not him alone, a bunch of fathers or would be fathers are walking around not taking responsibility for their children and pregnancies and its repugnant.

Being responsible can also be taken to mean being the primary cause of something and so be blamed or credited for it. In my humble opinion this is what being a man is all about. In whatever you do whether in business or pleasure, to be able to take blame (because credit is easy to take) is of utmost importance. To take responsibility of a problem and be able to take a problem solving direction with it is the best lesson I have learnt this year.

Friendship

Blood is over-rated…there I said it.  Growing up I used to adore my family; cousins especially. I thought they were the coolest people on the planet and perhaps they are but my opinion has since changed. To be honest I now prefer my iPod to most of them. At least my iPod has never snaked on me when I was in trouble, snitched on me when I got away with it, spoken behind my back or let me down when I most needed its help or time.

This year I have come to know the true meaning of friendship from a bunch of guys (mwajijua) that I wouldn’t trade the world for. I read somewhere that true friendship is not so much about the help but the confidence that should you ever need the help it will be there. Now my friends provide it with no questions or conditions. There are guys that have been with me through some hard times this year and we’ve equally had our good times (the good more than quadrupled the bad though). I can only hope that they are able to say the same about me. And to them a toast to the New Year!

Love

There is nothing much to say about this. 2011 has not been the most romantic year for me. I lost a person who has been constant in my life since 2007 and not to death but to life. The last days with her were special and although I doubt it’ll ever be the same again am appreciative of the memories and they’ll stay with me forever.

And not to get me wrong, the year has been full of on and off romances…and although only one was special enough to write home about, I’d like to tell the rest that it wasn’t them it was me…hehehheh.

Now the one that was actually special enough to note had its fair share of obstacles that I do not want to discuss out of the fear of jinxing or over-rating it.

If philandering counts as love then this has been my year. I do not want to say much to this effect because the worst kind of snitching is self snitching and my mom might one day read this but say halo to the “chipo chairman”  *all bow*

Money

I love money. I love money very much. I have seen people in restaurants and bars hustle the waitress over ten shillings…now I don’t love money that way. I suppose it’s not money I love but the concept of money.  The comfort, confidence and security of having sufficient to meet your needs brings.

 I have a very simple life plan and it involves two things basically 1.eat enough to stay alive and 2. Make a lot of money. I have issues with authority and for the last two years or so I have been endlessly working and thinking of ways to avoid employment and so far so good. I have not in my whole life made as much money as I did in 2011 thanks to a certain dear girl called the game court and am sure I’ll surpass this in the coming year.

My 21^st

Forgive my vanity but I take my birthdays very seriously. (And if you are reading this someone who knows themselves am actually mad at you not because of what you think but because you forgot my birthday and I know you know this).

 I turned 21 this year and am told I can now drink legally anywhere in the world. It was good and I was grateful for the wishes and the gifts. Perhaps the most impact this specific birthday made was that four people (all older than me) told me they look up to me and that I’d inspired them. This was humbling and very encouraging and I hope that I can be able to inspire them more in the future and them me.

Now of course the celebrations were not short of merry making and that weekend in Naivasha was like nothing I have experienced before. To the new friends I made (and who I up to date regret making) you all are great and immensely stupid.  Thank you very much Ivy Wagara, Ivy  Kibe , Gillian, Muchi, Austoh, Danny and Machete for making my birthday what it was.

In conclusion am all too grateful to all the people and events that made an impression and affected my life both negatively and positively.

A Happy, healthy and prosperous 2012 to all for you out there.

 And hey, you only live once so stop and be a bit careless; have a little fun. In the words of Steve Jobs…live hungry, live foolish.

Also I have no new year resolutions…still waiting kuiba za watu.

letter to my human sexuality lecturer

Dear madam,

The human sexuality class easily passes as the most enjoyable class I have had thus far in USIU. Not only did I get to meet new interesting people but I learnt a lot too. Matters of sexuality are often hushed down in our society and one rarely comes along a platform such as this class where the issues are discussed openly and without prejudice.

Perhaps the part I enjoyed the most was the class discussions. I am an outspoken person myself and I love to hear what people have to say about different things. In all the classes the various discussions were both fun and very informative. It was amazing listening to different people talk about their experiences, beliefs, prejudices and general views on matters regarding sex and life as a whole. There were instances too that provided good laughs and this was quite enjoyable.

As far as learning goes, I could say the class definitely cleared up a lot of things. While I had earlier studied the female and male anatomy, the class ventured into the same deeper in a way that I doubt I would have experienced anywhere else. I learnt more about the menstrual cycle, pregnancies and a lot of issues concerning the same were de-mystified.

The bit on sexually transmitted infections and diseases also made quite an impression on me. While the videos were horrendous and quite disturbing, the information will go a long way in ensuring that I practice more caution with my sexuality. The fact that the symptoms and causes were discussed on length provides me and hopefully the others to detect and hopefully prevent and stop STD’S.

However, of all the lessons and topics we have discussed in the class and researched on, two have made the most impact on me:

·         Homophobia

·         Abortion

Homophobia

My term paper was on homophobia and I researched heavily and widely on the topic. We live In a society where people ignorantly look down or discriminate against things we do not understand or agree with. Before my research I had a quite a bad attitude towards homosexuals and those with a leaning to them but after my research I must say I have had a change of heart.

I got a chance to understand the matter somewhat deeper and while I might not fully comprehend the matter, I have an easier stand and appreciate the fact that people generally have the will to choose their preference on these matters. Am happy to say that with the information I obtained I have successfully been able to change the minds of most of my close friends who were homophobic before. Am still hoping to change the ones of those who remain unmoved.

Abortion

This was perhaps the most emotional discussion for me and most of the class. I was surprised at how ignorant I was on the methods and consequences of abortion.  I have always been pro-abortion and I was ashamed to note how I’d carelessly made a staunch conclusion on such a grave matter that I knew so little about and had never bothered to find out more about.

About this time last year a friend of mine found out she was pregnant and her boyfriend’s first reaction was to deny it and abandoned her for the time being. Although I did not pressure her to abort, I might have influenced her decision to some level and when she asked for financial support for the abortion, I gladly paid for it.

She got through it quite fine and painlessly but I was later infuriated when she got back together with her boyfriend. I did not know it then but she exhibited some of the symptoms of post abortion stress to the extent of suicidal tendencies.

If I had known what I know now I would definitely have handled the situation differently. Unfortunately I am no longer in contact with the friend but I do hope that she will be okay.

I had mixed reactions to the nice lady Aketch Aimba’s (I hope I have her name right) presentation. As she told us her story I couldn’t help but get angry at some of the issues like how she could repeat the same mistake again after the first painful encounter. The matter stayed in my mind for a while and  I thought about it on length for a few days after the class.

Its quite angering how religion and old family and society values drive people to the extreme.  At the end of the day I figured it wasn’t quite her fault and would she have been provided with information that we have now she perhaps wouldn’t have resulted to what she did then.

Abortion is quite a delicate matter and while I am still pro-abortion in some cases I must say that my understanding of the matter has widely been challenged and in some instances fulfilled in this class.

I must commend you madam for your teaching methods. You exhibited an astounding mastery of the subjects and matters of discussion while at the same time being fun and accommodating of our different and sometimes absurd opinions, thoughts and questions. It was humbling that you were willing to share so much of yourself with us. I was amazed by your ability to stick to your values and choices so divinely and for such a long time.

I sincerely do hope that you find what you are looking for and that you continue to be an inspiration to other like-minded ladies and young people.

My experience in this class has been one that will stay with me for quite a long time to come and I want to say…thank you.

also i hope i get an A heheheh

eugene

it's hot out there

It’s hot out there

With scattered trees; most of them leafless

There is not a lot of green

Brown mostly

Dried grass and dried trees

A lone anthill

A fallen tree right outside the hockey pitches

It’s vast too

It stretches beyond view

It must be hot out there

I would not know

I look from the 2^nd floor of my library cubicle

Air conditioned, well lighted

Tiled floors, glass doors

A work of art really

Fine smoothened study table and chair

Mahogany I think

I open the glass window

It’s slightly covered with dust

Someone should attend to that

It must be hot out there

Because in the distance I see a gleam

It has stopped…the gleam

Oh there it goes again

There is a figure too

Oh yes, it is a man…or a woman

Too far to tell

With a slasher

Slashing the dead dried brown grass

Swing swing swing

His or her swing is constant

Musical in a way, poetic

He stops every now and then; or she does

Places his or her hands on their waist

I can only guess that he walks around

Sweaty face, dried lips, for shade; or she does

There is none, not anywhere close

For the trees are scattered, and dry, and leafless

Without shade

‘He’ bends holding, holding his knees with both arms

One hand on each knee

Without putting down his slasher

Abit later ‘he’ raises walks one, two, three steps

Gets back to his slashing

I get back to my tiled floor, and glass doors

Air conditioned and well lighted

Smooth table and two chairs

I have two chairs I notice

It must be hot out there

Dirty Blue Socks

It was raining when I left for work

It was raining and it was still dark

As I left my flat,

A girl was dropped in a fancy car

And another girl

Neighbors, students about my age

Probably from many of the nights out in town

And I walked away in the rain, slightly ran

With my head bent, not to wet my face

Thinking of the irony

Public transport is good

Sometimes unreliable and chaotic

But good

So that I caught a ‘matatu”

Not long after

Sat at the window like I always do

In no time, from the hills of mathare

Men walking upwards to the town

They are in files, disorganized files

Their hands swing in synchronized motion

They have their trousers tucked in to their blue socks

There is no telling how far, most of them have walked

But you can tell where they are going

To some low paying jobs

To cater for their unworking poorly educated wives

To provide for their malnutritioned babies

It’s dark

It’s windy

And it’s raining

The men hold umbrellas in their hands

But they do not open them,

The rain splatters on them

Drips down their arms

Down their umbrellas

And the wind blows the drops

From the hanging tip of the umbrellas

So that the men keep walking despite the rain

And the darkness covers their sweat

And their blue socks are dirty

Public transport is good

So that I get to town long before,

Long before the trekking men

It’s too early I’d complain

And it is, it’s still dark even

But not for the two old ladies

The two old ladies in reflective clothing

The two ladies sweeping the street

The two old ladies with beat up faces

More beat up than the wheelbarrows

That they collect their trash in

Our trash in

I don’t know who to ask

But am sure if I did ask

And I got the answer

It would go something like this

The girls have to ride the fancy cars

Someone has to ride them

And some don’t

So they walk in the rain

With unopened umbrellas

And dirty blue socks

And there has to be malnutritioned babies

And someone has to sweep the street

It just has to be that way.