Taking stock.............

When I first heard Tyler Durden reason out, I never thought it applied to me, at least not then. Am not “very, very, pissed off” but the statement reigns true.

“Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.”

Sometimes it gets really scary when you lie on your couch and reflect. You can replace the ''couch'' with a bar stool and the result remains as my friend Timothy keeps reminding us. He once sat on that bar stool; sipping his warm Tusker and realized the scary truth we call life. Where he is and where he thought he should be at around this time in his life don't rhyme. The big house, the big car, the beautiful wife, two kids and a dog aren't there, you ain't a big shot anywhere, you aren't filthy rich. You are as Tyler Durden says, ''the all singing, all dancing crap of the world''.  Same story goes for most of us. When I was 10, after every term paper, the top performers were rewarded with half a block of loaf and a half liter of your favorite soda. One was also required to stand in front of the other kids and prophecy their futures, or rather tell them your dreams. I was a top performer and I did have a dream, two dreams in fact. One which was the accepted societal response and my personal dream. To the society, I would grow up to be a pilot, to fly in our skies and transverse this planet of ours. Aeroplanes fascinated me and as I lay on back on the school pitch watching the skies, I dreamt of being there. Whenever I saw a plane, I would wish to be in it.

My personal dream was to own a dog. I've always loved dogs since ''Simba'', the stray dog I brought home when I was 7 to guard my rabbits. He hung around for a couple of months until he decided he wanted a different scene; he was bored and needed some excitement. I came home one evening only to find Simba had moved on. I guess it's true what they say, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But I digress.

I think this is where one is supposed to take stock. You watch yourself grow; you laugh at teenage mistakes, the peers that gave you the right and wrong advice neither of which you followed, the women who made you veer from your dreams, the worthy few and the unworthy most who made the best of your memories. At this point, if you're sitting on that bar stool you order another Tusker and for those on the couch pour more vodka in your coffee. Light a cigarette.

''It was the need to fit in”, you justify the mistakes. “No one wants to hang out with a bore. Am a creation of this blood sucking society which is going mad. It walked me this way.''

You smile at how ridiculous you sound, take a drag off your gaff, and smile some more. The reason I smile is probably because I knew the shit am getting myself into by following the crowd because contrary to popular belief, I wasn't dumb. I did a few dumb things, or maybe a lot, can't be really sure but I knew the consequences of my actions. I used to call them calculated mistakes coz before making them, I weighed them against the consequence. I was a tad bit religious, so every once in a while, blaming or rather invoking the name of the devil for my ill-meant deeds and god for not ''not leading me into temptations'' was a card I played. I kept it close in case I needed to use it, but due to its strength in poker, I rarely used it to avoid it’s abuse. I cannot however, with a straight face say I did not know the consequences of my actions and for peer pressure, that was all me. The sneaking out of school, the blowing of school fees on booze and women, the school strikes involvement, the tiny little mistakes that compounded to one big mistake that got me kicked out of school, that was all me. I knew by not applying for University, I won't be selected even if I made the cut (which I did)  but I still didn't apply justifying my stupidity with my distrust for our education system which taught flawed history and missing pieces in our arithmetic.........

 

You take a drag and smile. If you're on your couch, you make more coffee (half coffee, half vodka), if at the bar-stool, a double shot of vodka and a warm Tusker and reflect on how things turned out...... You come home from work, make your coffee, light a joint, pour yourself some vodka, kick off your shoes, put on some music and dream. Alone in the house, you dream of the home you'll never own, the car you'll never drive, the wife you'll never marry.....you dream. Dreams are free, dream away boys and girls, and watch them never coming true. Remind yourself how hopeless humanity has become, vile, needy, broken dreams, a constant reminder of what I've become. A slave to that which I loathe the most.

This is the hard part now, do I regret the mistakes or do I cherish the memories? I've been crazy in this lifetime. I've made some major mistakes. I like the widely accepted, ''if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing'' theory. It's comforting. When am alone with my thoughts, I try to be honest with myself. In the middle of insomnia and good music, these thoughts do cross my mind. Decisions that shape my life, the self-preservation that shows when we pull down the plasticity the world forces us to wear day in day out, the pretense of a fulfilled dream. The generally accepted way of life that fuels the guzzlers of the elite, the modernized caste system eating into my bones, my muscles clench, my heart burns, my soul dies. Every Monday morning I drag my ass out of bed and convince myself am doing this for me, for mine, but deep inside I know am doing it for them. The soulless bastards that took away my right to live my dream. I'll take back my 'am not “very, very, pissed off”' for now because Mondays bring out that side of me.

 

On the flip side, I’ve made memories which I wouldn’t trade for anything, made friends who’d stand by me regardless of all my flaws and my flawed interpretation of love, lust and indifference. I’ve lived a full life on the first half of my life (the mortality rate isn’t what it used to be) and although what I dreamt I would become and what I am don’t rhyme, the mistakes have been beautiful so far, almost as beautiful as the women who are part of them.

Ps: Taking stock on a bar-stool has the advantage of finding a hot woman taking stock too, and y'all know how that goes.

My mirror gets me....

''I shouldn't have met you. I met you, I liked the smiles a little too much and now I can't get you out of my head. You're intoxicating, and am drunk, am high with your hi.....''

Scratch that......

''Am dumb, and I know....''

Scratch that.... This is going to be harder than I expected. Maybe I should buy chocolates and let them talk on my behalf, I heard chocolates and girls are mostly on the level. This thing with words, choosing the right words to explain something I least understand.... Okay here goes nothing.

''The whiplash of living at once what I had been awaiting for years, the sheer disbelief at finding happiness in this world, had reduced the pleasures to a series of luminous moments, discrete and without measure, like so many fireflies, beaming and vanishing in an instant.''

Okay, I got to admit I stole that. Am reading poetry now, what has become of me? Whatever happened to my balls? She's walking in the house and flipping the switches, on and off,off and on, turned down low, changing the color bulbs, circling above us like smoke, like a ghost......she's driving me out of my mind.

What do I want from her except for us to do nothing? For her to just be, for us to just be. The old terrible magic coalesce into the air, hold her hand, walk on the beach, fish and sail....that's it, that's definately it, fish and sail and barbeque at the beach is what I want to do. I want to put my hands on her as a trial, just as a test. I want to put a hand on her face or on her arm because I think that if I did that, I would be so happy. I just want to feel her skin and I want to get at the soul underneath that muscle because I could smell it. But I bury these things in my heart.

I stand on the mirror and practice. I choose all the right words, create the perfect scenarios, pre-empt her answers. I recite poetry and practice emotions but I know it will all come crashing down once she flashes that smile. But still, I practice.

Spin, Run and Choose

“This is why we shouldn't be afraid There are two possibilities: One is that there's more to life than the physical life, that our souls "will find an even higher place to dwell" when this life is over. If that's true, there's no reason to fear failure or death. The other possibility is that this life is all there is. And if that's true, then we have to really live it - we have to take it for everything it has and "die enormous" instead of "living dormant," as I said way

back on "Can I Live." Either way, fear is a waste of time.”

― Jay-Z, Decoded

I guess he was right in a way, but on the flip side, how broad are our choices? We are thrown choices where we are not in a position to choose right with certainty and the risks spread to the extremes of our fears. Whatever the consequence of our choice will be, if the opposite turns true, we are most definitely screwed as the punishment falls either on living a completely stale and boring life wasted on patiently waiting on an unknown bliss or an eternity of unprecedented agony albeit in the afterlife. And it gets worse, we live in a community who tend to judge us depending on the choices that we make, a society with absolute truths, a society that does not understand why our truths vary from theirs but they expect us to understand their truth.....PAUSE....

When I was growing up, I knew of a few truths, absolutes if you may which reigned supreme regardless of how wrong they would turn out to be. That was before they opened the gates of Hades, dragged my soul away, and told me I shouldn’t walk this way.Take music for instance, and the difference in association today and a couple of years ago. Rock for instance was considered Satanic, still is in some quarters, hip hop as a messenger for all that's wrong (probably because it's provocative) until we found out it's us who were listening to the music wrong. We were listening to music the same way we read books, or perceive art, the way society deems right. We've been molded to take a particular path and designing ourselves, creating our identity which in my opinion should be our goal on life is hindered. Identity is an absolute truth. It is sometimes conflicted, bigoted, stereotyping but all in all, it's probably the only absolute truth. We may try to run from it, remould it to suit the circumstances that be, but it's core values, it's needs, it's principals remain. With this in mind, re-examining our truths. We think the way society expects us to and crazy ain't too far a dogma if your path is considered against the grain. We don't pause, what if the societal truth is wrong?

.....PRESS PLAY. With truth relative, what are we supposed to run with? My truth is fire excites me. I sometimes, for no apparent reason strike a match and watch the flame glow, grow, steady and slowly die. It tells the story of my life, our lives, but I don't know much about yours, thus this might be or might not be your truth. My truth is I want to spin, and then run.

I want to spin because I want to see the world distorted, listen to the music broken, an alternate world where nothing is as it seems. I want to see God the unconventional way, see power as a different tool, women as beautiful, nature as Gods' creation. I want to experience the peace in belief. I want to trust easy and love slow. I want a better view of the world, delusional or not.

I want to run. I want to run and experience everything good in the world. I try to live right, I try to make choices that add value to my life and although going with the flow gives you a softer landing, the rewards fall on average. Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing. The end result of your life here on earth will always be the sum total of the choices you made while you were here.

And then the big question, having a devil on one shoulder and

an angel on the other, how to live my life, where to live my hell, how to walk facing forward with nary a crick in my neck from looking back at the crossroads, and most importantly, how to live without been afraid........

The beginning

At first, the rhythm was more subtle but you could dance to it if you listened more keenly. I didn't expect to find this many people at the party but with an open invitation, it was bound to happen. Free booze has a way of attracting the weeds. Anyway, the choice of music was pathetic and the girls were a little too needy for my liking. I didn't mind since the booze was on my to do list and the girls were more like the pirate's code; to be thought of only as suggestions. Am aware that the list is in a weird way self-regenerative but at the end of the day, booze being the big stones had to go first in to the jar before the small pebbles, the college gals, filled in the spaces.

I sat at the far end of the counter across the room and looked around; she was on the dance floor. Basic instinct, initial intention, curiosity of that guy that drives him to her kicked in. She was your average college girl with everything that they come with except for one thing, enigma. She was composed and had a sense of self-control, two things maybe. Mysterious, meditative, unapproachable, three things maybe. Feet. Those were the first thing I noticed. Her satin heels put emphasis on the beauty of her calves. Her perfectly tanned legs seemed to glow in the lil light in the room. On a normal day, my instinct would automatically lead my eyes up to check out the rack but at this point in time, it was the legs that mesmerized me. I watched her hips sway to the beat, the rhythm was clearer now. She was like a jeweled dancer, dancing upon a pavement of gold. Her thighs, tanned beautiful thighs. Her thighs beautiful and tanned go straight to the top. Good grief they're fabulous and all I could think about is the lots of warmth within just glowing from fun. Can you imagine moonlight in liquid form? Now, can you imagine yourself immersed in a pond of liquid moonlight? Now imagine all that liquid moonlight seeping dip into your essence. Watching her brought that feeling.

"I think I'll take another one of those shots, double vodka"

Where did she go? My mind deftly swerves from the frivolous mood to profundity and even the jerk of inertia was non-existent. I had turned for only a few seconds and she was gone!

"Hi"

I turn around and she's standing right next to me with this inscrutable smile.

"Hi" with a measure of composure and a hint of nervousness. I hadn't noticed her face until now, she was familiar. I had seen her a few times.

"You're more of a loner than most," she said with a pitiful look.

"I'd say the same applies to you," I said trying to act confident. My heart was now in a sorry state as it had not being beating rhythmically and had skipped a little too many beats in the few minutes past. The effect of her scent, sort of like a rose geranium but sweeter, was intoxicating yet cleansing and purifying.

"Nice perfume"

"Thanks, how women did you say that to today?"

"Three or four, but they all smelled good. You're more like cherry blossom,"

"Oh really" smiling sheepishly, "I almost thought no one would notice,"

"Let's just say every man in this room would relish the chance to say that to you, if you didn't look so astoundingly beautiful, I guess I get to be the lucky one."

"How long have you being watching me?"

"I almost thought no one would notice," Smiling warily,

"I did, at least in the last three parties I have attended. You want to tell me why you've being following me?"

"Following you? You must have mistaken me for someone else." I was getting nervous now and couldn't help myself from a quick scan of the place. Most of the revelers were either drunk or getting there, except for one guy sitting at a table with a direct view of me, and another one who was two tables behind him also
with a direct view of me. I needed to compose myself.

"Okay, am going to be honest with you,"I started, "You are a very beautiful woman, and I know you are way out of my league. All I wanted was to watch you dance, in a weird way, it helps me sleep at night."

"Pervert!" She said walking away. I jumped off my seat and rushed towards her,

"No, no… not in that sense. I mean, if your days happen to be as terrible as mine are, your nights aren't exactly peaceful. I just need one beautiful scene, a smile, dance; I'll probably take anything just to go to bed and not think of blowing my brains out. I just want a moment I can relive in my dreams."

"What do you dream about?"

"They are just dreams, and you're not exactly a genie, I mean except you talking to me, I doubt any of my dreams will ever come true."

Then it hit me, she was no different than I was. She came in alone as I did, and almost left alone every time, she seemed as much out of place as I did, and she was talking to me and not the others……she was
talking to me, she…..

"……………where would I go?" she was
waiting for answer.

"aaahh"

"Let's start over. What's your name again?"

"Serge', Serge is my name, and you
are?"

Ticking off my bucket list

I normally don't do resolutions at the closure of the year, probably because I know by the third day of the year, I'll probably have forgoten them, or rather drowned them together with the liver. I therefore prefer not to put myself in a position where am trying to achieve a resolution I can't remember clearly the reasons behind it. I prefer not to make resolutions, at least not the end year kind of resolutions.

This year however, am making my first resolution. To start making resolutions.

Anyway, that is not the main issue today. It's about a few things I've been playing with in my head for a couple of days. Things I should do in the near future.

1. Learn how to drive.

Sometime back, me and my cousin Patrice were driving along Musindi Road. When we got to Ngara girls, my cousin gave me the wheel, he'd been teaching me to drive for a while and I was feeling a little more confident on the wheel. I drove through Southern Blue hotel quite smoothly, took the turn down Nyayo market, (I was all smiley, I had finally learnt how to drive), went straight and took the turn to the gate real smooth, approached the gate, then something happened. I realized the gate was half open. My cousin could could have navigate through the space left but I didn't have that kind of confidence. I freaked. I stretched my foot to reach for the brakes and hit the gas pedal instead. I freaked some more. To make things worse, a group of mechanics who have a garage right adjacent to our flat started screaming directions and warnings from all angles. I freaked even more and pressed the gas pedal some more, I was froze and couldn't move my leg. I crashed my uncle's car outside his gate as he watched from the balcony. Needless to say, he banned me from ever touching the wheel of his car. I have never tried to touch the wheel of anyones car ever since. Am planning to.

The reason am planning on learning how to drive is because I've finally decided to take that road trip I've been meaning to take for the longest time. I want to take a fortnite and drive through the places I've heard the greatest stories from. Drive through Kisumu, pass by Moyale-Ethiopia border, Muliro gardens, watch Luhyas in groups in Kakamega, Samburu and finally take a swim through Lamu one more time. I want to make the stories I've heard from these places through other people mine. I want the stories I've heard from these places to be heard through me too.

2. Take a train ride.

To be honest, this is a new plan. It wasn't with me before last night. Here is what happened.

I got home and really wanted to blog. I like you guys, and although you don't necessarily show it, I think you at least like me too, or the blog. I wanted to put something up for you but I didn't have anything. My vault was empty.

So I called up a friend of mine, I wanted her to throw a couple of pointers my way, especially because she writes too, and as I learnt, reads a lot too. I think we can all agree it makes sense to try her. So she throws a couple, compares relationships with shoes, we try to complement pros and cons across gender and the communication problem, we go on and on, and on, and finally lands on some of the things we would like to do before we die (she is convinced that it is still possible for someone to send you anthrax via post). I already have a bucket list, visit either Rio or Amsterdam or both, attend a rock concert preferably Coldplay, make a fun album (photos of all my friends blacked out), among others. Then I thought about train rides. You board a train from Mombasa and spend a night in every town along the rail line. I thought a train ride across the country should be on my bucket list. Although we didn't come up with something that I could put up for you, we did add something in to my bucket list.

3. Paint a self-portrait.

I stole this idea from Fight Club (the best movie ever made)...........

Narrator: [Tyler steers the car into the opposite lane and accelerates] What are you doing?
Tyler Durden: Guys, what would you wish you'd done before you died?
Ricky: Paint a self-portrait.
The Mechanic: Build a house.
Tyler Durden: [to Narrator] And you?
Narrator: I don't know. Turn the wheel now, come on!
Tyler Durden: You have to know the answer to this question! If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?
Narrator: I don't know, I wouldn't feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? Fine. Come on!
Tyler Durden: Not good enough.

Ricky's answer sounded good enough. Painting a self portrait sounded good enough.

I got to start cancelling things of my bucket list, I ain't getting any younger.

Don't send me to hell, I mind if you forget me

Stephanie sounds like a nice girl. I say sounds because I haven't met her in person but her voice tells a story of a girl most people would like to have coffee with. We didn't have coffee last Monday even though we'd planned to, not because I didn't want to but because I move without balance. I let life rush, I miss appointments, I miss out on good people, I forget to watch life, I run. I run faster than my legs can take me and know fewer people than I have met. In the near future, I will make a point of meeting her, and get to know her.

I don't reflect a lot. Let's eat, let's drink, let's make merry for tomorrow we die seems to pretty much sum up my life. It's a good philosophy on paper but in life, it's too fast, it's too true. The last part is too true. At some point we all die. It's not as scary as been forgotten but it's scary as hell, the hell in the Bible I must add. Death in itself is not scary. What lies after is what scares the shit out of me. What if there is a God? What if there is nothing? What if heaven is there or worse still hell which mankind is bound at birth unless Jesus saves our souls? What if the God we believe in is not the one on the other side? *shudders*.........

What if they forget me?

It scares me that out of sight, out of mind could be a reality. My hell. People walking around like I never existed. They'll eat, they'll drink, they'll make merry, for tomorrow they die. They'll eat, they'll drink, they'll make merry like I never existed. They'll date my girlfriend, they'll drink my milk, they'll attend the parties I should have attended, they'll make merry without me. They'll forget, and send me straight to hell. My hell. For me, being forgotten is scarier than burning probably because I don't believe that the fire is real, at least if God is the logical kind.

They'll attend the funeral, eat, drink and toast to a life well lived, pour liquor in my casket, lay flowers on my grave, and cry. They will cry for me because it is an important essence to be taken into consideration after the initial stage of the mourning feeling caused by a dear relatives death, they'll will blame their gods for taking a loved one away from them, they'll pray for safe haven of my soul in the heaven they believe in, they'll talk about me for a week, maybe a month, a year or so. The rituals will come and then the memories will fade. I will be gone, gone with the wind, but I don't want to go.

I want to live forever. Immortal in the hearts of mine, and theirs, those who care today, I want them to care tomorrow. I want them to laugh at the jokes forever (am praying for a life line here), to be immortalized in the memories we share, a chemistry between us that you couldn't bottle in a million years. I'll instigates fights that end up in love, sad days that end up in smiles, struggles with happy endings, I will force memories of me down your throats. I will not let you send me to hell because I mind if you forget.


I will travel when I can and make a friend everywhere. I will sit down with strangers and listen to their stories, eat their food and drink their brews. I will hold on to the friends I got and make a new one every chance I get. I will live forever, because I will make sure someone remembers me. When the reaper knocks, am going to heaven. I will not go to hell. I will not let them forget about me.


I will leave souvenirs, I will find them that which reminds them of me. Custom music cds which remind them of me every time they listen to it, jewelery from the few places I get a chance to travel to, sea shells from the next time I pass by a beach town, I want them to see me in the gifts that I give. I will make sure they remember me. I will leave a footprint in their hearts. I'll give them a memory. I will give all of them a memory.

Ring circus

So Jane was really pressed, she had to go now. The conductor was nice enough to let her go, but the place was kinda open and the sun was already out, about a quarter to 8:00, nobody really expected her to find a blind spot. I could see the curiosity eating the men alive, acting all chilled out, shifting in their seats (darting their eyes outside), but nobody figured out how she just vanished in the thin air. The first guy just couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't be that good at hide and seek, yes hide and seek because this is what we were training for when we were younger, except in real life we hide from cops and bosses as we seek beautiful women and beer offers. Anyway, this chap decides he was pressed too, alights and walks a few meters from the bus and does his thing, but he's not looking where he's aiming, he's still looking for Jane's spot, everyone was marveled by her hiding prowess. A few more men joined in the hunt, still nothing. She was good, considering she was handicapped in this game, I mean we all know that one seeks and all hide and not the other way round. The men’s faces screamed defeat, I included,

‘‘All those of the opinion Jane has won ''The Gikobe'' say Aye''

''Ayeeee'' All men in unison replied.

Finally she was done talking to nature and out of nowhere, she was boarding the bus. Most of us didn't see where she appeared from; these thin air productions are really catching on. One by one we boarded the bus acting like nothing happened but we all knew who the winner and the losers in this game were.

We are not even close to Mtito Andei and I was already tired, bored too. I'd been traveling the whole night and was still on the road. I had left Lamu the previous night, kinda sad though because I can honestly say I loved the place. Maybe it's the ocean, or the food, the people, but I did love it. I think that's why I'd been looking for excuses to stay a little longer, closing the financial year, collecting my baggage assessment letter from the ministry of public works, my release letter, and then there were a few parties derailing my schedule day in, day out. Eventually, something had to give....

So, the last day, it honestly felt like a season finale. Things were happening extremely fast, all the small things that I hadn't done because they were tiny little things compounded to be one big thing. Send the documents I need to send to the headquarters, pick up my bag from Feddys' place, drop some things I had at the office, and some other small things. It rained.

Lamu is not like the rest of this country, we don't know how to work around rain, you can count the number of umbrellas around, and today was the day that God decides to let it pour, poor Lamu. When it rains in Lamu, transport is a major issue; you know we walk on water right? I worked in the mainland and lived on the island. In the afternoon, it looked more like a passing cloud than rain, plus I figured I will cross for an hour or two and then rush back pick up my stuff and board the 9:00 p.m. bus. That was not fates plan. First was the limited number of passengers crossing to the mainland which in Lamu means either of two things, sit pretty and wait, or hire a boat for quite a sizable amount, almost a crate of Tusker at DOD Langata. You probably already know what I opted for.

Eventually, at around 4:00 p.m., I finished the few errands I needed to run, but the mainland wasn't really done with me. Mohammed, the chauffeur of the day (I know it's a bike but hey), he was willing to chauffeur me around, it's the low season anyway, ''kusi'' they call it and passengers are scarce. My friend Kisanya and his new found Miss Maggie were chilling at White house, farewells and all he demanded albeit served in brown bottles. A couple of Tuskers and Mfalmes later, it's 6:00 pm and I got to cross and pick up my bags.

The rain doesn't like me much either, of all the places it would have chosen to find me, it chose the ocean. Wet and cold in Lamu with half an hour before the boat sails, still raining heavily a quick break was necessary and Petleys was welcoming. Matata, his wife Queen, Kofi and Simba were in the house. Matata doesn't like his friends sober and a Tusker was on the table. My phone won't stop ringing, the rain won't stop pounding and the time won't stop moving. I prayed.

I think I prayed, the subconscious kind of prayer where God knows you need his help without you saying a word. Why do I say this, in the next five minutes, the rain stopped falling and my Tusker was empty but unluckily time stops for no man, so I've learnt. Kama had my ticket on his way to the boat as I rushed to collect my baggage, the calls kept coming through, and a couple of meters from the Jetty, I could see they were slowly moving out. I ran, calling out, calling Kama on his phone and flashing my phones display light to signal that I was coming.

Just so you know, it was not entirely my fault given that initially, I thought the boat would be leaving at 8:30 p.m. rather than 7:30 p.m. which happen to be quite a time difference. It was my first time to travel with the night bus and the time can sometimes confuse even the keenest of minds. Secondly, I hadn't seen my receipt which means I wouldn't know exactly what time I was supposed to leave.

The boat did wait for me. It was one of the bigger boats ''boti ya mbao'' rather than the speed boats am used to. Long ride that was.

We had some bad seats, the two seats in the middle of the back bench. The two guys on my right were just normal two guys, nothing extraordinary about these two. Kama sat on my left (I think we changed positions at some point and he moved to my right, his legs needed more space to breath) and to his left which was my extreme was this nice gentleman. A family guy probably, calm, cool, and collected gentleman, at first glance you would refer to him as ''the gentleman to my left''. The gentleman to my left kept his cool as the bus picked up speed, and then without warning, he pulls out a time machine!!

I know you guys don't believe me one bit but I got witnesses. Kama and the two gentlemen to my left will testify to this effect. He took us back to high school bus trips, loaf and soda bus trips. I think it's the manner with which he was least bothered by our peeping that intrigued me. I know I shouldn't be judging the gentleman to my left since I wasn't innocent enough to warrant me the stone throwing. Kama had some cookies and one packet of milk which we were, you know, but you got to understand none of us had had lunch. Not because we were not hungry, but in between my packing, office errands, scheduling that Friday blog post and Kama's unfinished jobs, the day was way too short. I doubt that the gentleman on my left had such a convincing story.

I decided to catch a couple of winks, I was a little tipsy and the running around was quite tiring. Around 0300 hours, Thursday morning in Malindi. When you are on the road, the times don’t give you a lot of navigating space. 15 minutes is almost the universally accepted break time from the butt numbing travels, and we try our best to make the most of it, you can’t wander off too far from your vessel or bus if you please. (Note that at this particular moment I hadn't met Jane). A quick meal of ''mshakiki na mahamri’’, - I only did the mshakiki, Kama decided since there were no chapos -unga ni unga-. The conductor switched our seats and then switched them again. I think this is where I met Jane; I had seen her couple of times in Lamu a cyber café, Kamas’ cyber café. The introductions were done, the niceties and all, and then back to the road.

The point of this story is the lessons from a married woman. As I later found out, Jane is a happily married woman. She got married young and she has been through all the fights that any marriage could ever have, from alleged affairs to extended family feuds; she’s been through them all. Being a bachelor, I got no clue how to handle institutional relationship feuds except from bits and excerpts from other peoples feuds, at least those who are willing to tell it with no bars held. She was willing.

How to treat your woman:

Honesty is overrated she told me. There are some things about you she doesn’t feel like she needs to know. According to her, she expects her man to at least have stray thoughts regardless of whether he’ll act on them or not. She also expects a few ladies to throw themselves at him especially because of the distance between her and him, physical that is (she works in Lamu and her husband works in Nairobi). Information should be weighed against expected reactions, and according to her, women are a jealous species. They don’t trust other women around their men and information insinuating that there is a lady willing to take her place as soon as she leaves the matrimonial compound is to be filtered to a need to know basis. In the same light, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and a stray day should not be considered as something she needs to know. Do not give her a reason not to trust you.

Men have been known to accuse women of a lot of things, the biggest accusation being that they are money oriented. Contrary to popular belief, financial needs aren’t exactly primary to women although she made sure I understood that love doesn’t pay the rent. Apparently, women’s need vary from one woman to another unlike those of men (it is common knowledge that food, beer and sex will keep any man on a leash). You shouldn’t marry a woman that you do not know, and knowing a woman is not limited to her name and sexual prowess. A woman, any woman needs to know that she comes first and her needs (which you should know) are a priority. She needs to know she can count on you when she’s out of options and that sense of security is what will keep her home, your home that is.

Communication is not limited to her talking and you listening. Talk to your woman the way you talk to your friends every once in a while.

Respect your woman. Do not talk ill or command your woman to do stupid things in front of your friends. Learn how to treat her when you have company.

Jane is of the dying breed from what I gathered. She knows how a woman should treat her man. She is the old school kind of girl, who believes in working things out, always talking about her man in a positive light even though she expects him to f*** up every so often and most of all, she knows a woman can either make a man better or destroy him.

Unluckily for the singles today, this kind of breed is not fashionable anymore. Women of today expect men to change since they have. Their needs have changed and we too need to evolve. The Jane’s of the world are gone.

Maybe we are wrong about God.

''You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you, he never wanted you, in all probability he hates you. It's not the worst that could happen to you'' ~ Tyler Durden.

I was born in a Christian family, which technically makes me a Christian. Technically because except for my Christian name nothing else makes me feel like a Christian, and my hair makes people think I subscribe to Islam, not that I get it, the hair and religion stereotype but there are a lot of things in this world that I don't understand.


The name:

My Christian name is Peter.
According to the dictionery, the meaning copied from the online dictionery is as below.

pe·ter
Verb: Decrease or fade gradually before
coming to an end: "the storm had petered
out".

Noun: A man's penis.

However, that is not the Peter my mum had in mind. She was thinking more on the lines of Jesus' apostle, his right hand man who walked on water, argued with Jesus, betrayed Jesus, and most importantly became the leader of the Apostles after Jesus' ascession to the right hand side of his father in heaven. This is a name that should make me feel important especially because of how deep in religion all the women around me have been.

I don't feel it. I don't feel like Jesus' right hand man.

When growing up, I didn't question much or rather didn't think much about God, the Bible wasn't bookmarked on my phone as it didn't form much of literal material I felt like I needed to read. I rarely went to Church, which to an extent is advantageous since I wasn't really indoctrinated into anything fully. I can think outside the confines of religious dogma because I don't view God as a religious man would, am more on the side of God at the end of our imagination.

Reading the Holy Books can be confusing. The proverbial thin line between love and hate is extremely thin. Okay, not hate per se, but some of the extremes the religious God went to make his people toe the line, the punishments prescribed for those who put their hand on the cookie jar scaringly border on hate. Sigh.

Sexual activities (not mine).

Some of the sexual perversions the Men of God are straight up immoral. Lot and his daughters, David and a soldiers wife, Mohammed and a 12 year old wife.

The laws, the discrimination against others in his creation, favorism of certain people, et al.

You got to understand that, me and God aren't the best of friends. Am not sure how to relate to the guy.

Free will is apparently not free, it causes us to sin, and that happens to be a direct ticket to hell. Maybe this is a truth that we are running away from. I don't know if am the only one who wonders the role of God in the evils that plague the world. Free will and animal instinct will most definately corrupt a soul, how can he blame us for a fault of his doing? You can't throw animals in a cage with limited resources without expecting that they'll most probably eat each other. Sigh.

Or maybe we got it all wrong. Either religion totally got it wrong or God is unfair. Let's talk religion for a minute. Let's talk about it from a broader perspective outside of it's confines for a minute. Religions borrow heavily from each other. Regardless of the physical appearances, their attributes of God tend to be human, temperence, tolerance, generousity, love, every human attribute to its utmost extreme. This does not make him feel extra ordinary to me. His power is limited to our imaginations and his laws are based on our view of morality stretched with consequence equal to the limit our imagination feels the body cannot handle.

Maybe God doesn't have human attributes and whoever we pray to is our own creation. Maybe he is not the God who is morally right, an abundant provider, an extreme punisher, an all loving kind albeit with no sense of humor.
Maybe he is not that white guy with a long beard somewhere in the sky.

Maybe he created and left and we are struggling in explaining his existence the way we deem fit.

Maybe we are wrong about God.

Venus vs Mars

It's a couple minutes past eleven and am almost out of beer. Sleep and I haven't been close for a while but my beat down ipod is good company. With it's broken screen and a habit of throwing me off balance with the arrangement of the tracks, I've learn't to cope.

I think.

At first it was her. She popped in my head again. After a while, she pops in my mind, the good times, the smiles, the laughs, the conversations et al. The good memories.
She smiles easy, she smiles in her voice too, she talks gentle, she inspires music. She walks slow, she's careful with her feet, she watches them a lot, it makes people think she's shy. But I think she's just trying to protect her smile. She knows the world is a cruel place, it will take advantage of her smile, so she guards it, and the world said she's shy.

Then there is me. Lost in my ills, selfish with freedoms, mean with time, stupid old me never learns. It's the little things that matter, the texts that say you crossed my mind, the rock cd that says I know what warms your heart.

My cousin says I have a phobia for commitment. Maybe there is truth in her statement. I don't hold on to anything, good or bad, I let everything slip through my fingers, the good and the bad........ I think.

Nah, I take that back. It's the planning, the routine, the knowing tomorrows, it's the control. You can't surf in calm waters, I need waves. It's the not knowing where am going that makes blood rush, the running into trouble, the spotainity.

Control or lack of it rocks this boat. It's the flips in judgement that control the cruise.

I guess we are both to blame.

Let's make lemonade

I want to talk about all the good times, lessons I have learnt, experiences I've had and some not so graphic escapades with my women. Am a little shy about the sex escapades because most of my ex-girlfriends are still good friends to date, we talk over the phone, we have not broken off our friendship and they sometimes do read my blog and they will probably know am talking about them. I do however like reminding them that I still remember the good times, the walks, the smiles, the drinks et al.

That's a whole lotta digression, if am allowed to use the word. The stories.

Am not much of a loner. I need people around me, the more the merrier. To make this happen, I need to make it worth their while but since you can't throw parties everyday, one is forced to be interesting. I am forced to be interesting. I feel comfortable in a crowd, (probably the reason am going to die a poor man) so I need to entertain them.

I like literature. Actually, I love literature. Reading good stories written by men and women who love to tell their stories and stories of others and tell them so well. I like reading history, stories of men of old, their battles, their solutions to worlds problem, their ''how to love a woman'' manual (the Spartans knew how to love a women, I try to love my women the way the Spartans loved), and so forth. I like history because it has lessons, with history we know how not to live lest we suffer the same consequence. The good morals you take them with you, the bad you thank God you weren't born then. I like to read poetry every once in a while. I like the Bible too and the few bits of the Qur'an that I have read.

If I maybe excused, I will digress for a second.

Have you ever thought about the religious books from a different perspective except a religious one. Am not trying to offend y'all religious folks but don't you think these books are Jewish myths as told by the Romans. The message is great and although their God seems extremely powerful, is it possible that these books are based on stories of two stoners trying to understand the world with a whole bag of weed? Call me crazy but a man being swallowed by a whale then spat out after three days doesn't sound too plausible. But that's just me.

I love good music, especially good old school music. It brings forth good memories, the mistakes you made and never learn't the lessons, the girls you loved then, the people that loved the song, where you lived when the song came out. I have a theory that people who love old school music have had a fun life.

I like movies, I haven't watched one in a while probably because am yet to buy a telly. I think am out-growing T.V, or it's the realization that T.V is killing books, or am just broke.

As I was saying, I like movies. Movies tell you stories the way they are supposed to be told, in detail. Movies have raw emotion, not as raw as live T.V, but good actors and actresses do make you feel the emotion. Good movies make you imagine yourself in the characters situation, epic movies makes you want to live the emotion. Troy is an epic movie.

I love to travel. I have a dream that one day I will own a Jeep and a no limit credit card. In my dream, I jump into my Jeep and drive away. See every corner of this country, sleep in small towns, sample traditional drinks and foods. If am lucky, a beautiful lady will ride shotgun.

Why am I telling you all this? I've come to realize life is bitch. Motivational speakers do try to insist that life is what you make it, they have books teaching you this side of the coin but I call them bullshit mongers. Life is a bitch. We don't get dealt the right cards which means our dreams are just that. Dreams.

I've always loved literature and if I could change one thing in my life, it would be the career I chose. Accounting is not so bad, but am not cut out to be an accountant. Am good with math, but am better at telling stories, and reading those of others. Life on the other hand forces us to need things that we don't need, we go to jobs we hate to finance needs that life subscribes us. We don't like our jobs but the path that our hearts desire happen to be rocky. Thus the death of the arts, our arts, our first loves.

Anyway, let's make some lemonade.