Duck!

My room is tidy.

But my mind feels cluttered. I tiden my room and do my laundry to clear my mind but now I have a feeling deep within that this time it will not work. Atleast not as well as it usually does.

Listening to reggae maybe it will stir something.

I like these days and I don't like these days. I like these days because they are loaded with pockets of inspiration. But they are also loaded with lots of moments of humility. My clumsiness reminds me that I have no control over anything...as much as I pretend I do, I don't.

It is easier on this days, not to fight the rain. Not to fight the bird poo that falls on me as I walk down the street. Maybe enjoy the splat sound that the poo makes as it lands on my sleeve.

I am having one of those days.

"Splat!"

Cirdan passes the stick on the left hand side

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Central Station

So I went to a gay pub the other day to sing karaoke at a competition. My friend and I, a guy went uo to sing "You're the One That I Want" from Grease. Me being Sandy, although he would have done a good impression of her, himself. We came in second place.

I have to admit that I have never seen such large amounts of affection displayed at a club. It wasn't vulgar but on the contrary it was honest. Among the first questions asked whenever I was introduced was whether I was gay, bi or straight. The men there knew what they had come for and were not hiding it in the way that they do at a straight club. Greetings were exchanged with a kiss on the cheek or lips. And I have to admit, the tension there to compete with others of my female species for the few preying men was drastically reduced. I wasn't competing for anything but the karaoke.

My friend and I had a code word "Bananas" for anytime any of us needed to get out of a "situation." I used it several times when older looking men especially, wiggled their way across the bar to stand next to me with that sly look in their eyes. He used it too when a man in a black jacket and gelled back jet black hair, slithered past after attempting conversation with my friend.

I certainly didn't use it however, when the brown sweetie came to talk to me. Hulk of muscle, brown green eyes and a tight derriere. Oh yes. Too bad he was gay. Or as my friend says "All that toast and no jam, mmmh mm mm ( finger snapping action)."

I have nominated myself a regular there. Next week I'm singing a Spice Girl's song. Any requests?

liar, liar pants on fire

I haven't told a lie in a while. Last week I told a fib about how I had food poisoning and thus missed an early morning class. I named the food "Lo Mein," the restaurant "China Kitchen." Now I can't get it off my mind that I actually lied. No really, I thought I had fleshed out that part of me that feels chicken to tell the truth yet here I was spinning an elaborate tale. I feel betrayed.

I feel I need to confess to the world but I don't have the guts to confess to my professor.

Especially not after he said it was "probably because my stomach is not used to that type of diet." Here ofcourse he was referring to my Africaness. I wanted to pound the table and tell him to stop being a fool. We actually do have Chinese restaurants in Kenya, contrary to popular belief, we don't all drink raw blood and eat maize daily.

We do however have matumbo which is cooked blood and filled with all sorts of goodness, and we do have ugali, pounded maize made into "cake." Nonetheless these are hardly staple foods.

By the way this is the same professor I mentioned in an earlier blog... He still has not kissed the bottom of my shoe.

I feel a burning

It was in the mid to late 50's that the British were raping our women and had placed then in camps to dig trenches and to starve. Because our people wanted independence. In the 50's when the US enjoyed drive - thru movies, T.V. and had Hollywood, Kenyan women would have to steal from fields to feed themselves and their children. If they were old or sick they would not eat so that the children would.
When Elvis was alive and rocking, our women were half clothed and sometimes they were naked when they were being beaten because they refused to wake up at 4am to build huts and dig trenches. They were dying from water-borne disease because on their grid-like camps they were not allowed to build sanitation infrastucture.
I feel a burning anger because our women were being raped, sodomised with bottles and left in water overnight in the open cold while Heartbreak Hotel was being shown on T.V.

It has not changed. Lord, it has not changed.

your funeral

When you die, who do you want your mother to call "my children?" Who among your friends is worthy of your mother's love?