Of 50 Shades of Grey and the numbers game

So Valentine’s weekend was the premier of 50 Shades of Grey, the movie. The movie set up two very opposing camps. Those who termed the movie sick and twisted; my Facebook timeline was filled with these. I saw blogs about how the movie set behind the fight for gender equality, how the movie misrepresents love, 10 reasons I will not watch 50 shades of grey among many others I will not bother to get into right now. On the opposing side are those who termed the movie as “harmless”, “flirtatious” or “fun”. There are enough blogs on that too.

When 50 shades of Grey was first published I was keen on getting a copy myself. Most of my girlfriends were praising this book and I was tired of being left out of the conversation. Now if you know me, you know there is nothing I love more than a good book, a hot cup of tea and my duvet on a weekend. So when I finally had the trilogy in soft copy, I was beyond delighted. I have a rule for filtering out a good book from a bad book; if it is still terrible at Chapter 8, it is a terrible book. It had terrible prose, bad dialogue and do not get me started on Ana’s inner goddess.

By the time I got to chapter 8, I knew the storyline was pathetic and not worth my time. I however attempted to read past chapter 8 till 12. By then I was so irritated that I just hit the shift and delete button on my computer and tried to wrap my head on how such a lousy book made it to be a best seller. So I searched Google for the plot. I was curious, perhaps I had bad taste or I missed something. The search results just confirmed my fears; if it wasn’t for all the explicit content this book would not have seen the light of day let alone getting published.

Our generation needs to start reading. I am talking Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Chinua Achebe and Harper Lee among other great authors. Blogs and newspapers are not literature, they are just articles. Get off the social networks and nourish your mind. Why you need to upload a #selfie and #groundie of you doing absolutely nothing, beats me. I am hundred percent sure that if it was not for the social networks, the 50 shades trilogy would not have gotten published let alone make it to best seller status. That woman had major life crisis, she spilled her crisis on the internet and became a billionaire thanks to this hash-tagging and trolling business.

I am however appalled by the need of majority of women to label 50 shades as a love story or romance. The closest label I ever seen to what exactly it is, is “mommy porn”. Why is it even called “mommy porn”? Does the label make the book less of what it is? If you ask me what the book is, I will call it a poorly written work of pornography or erotica. Now I do not know the difference between erotica and pornography but someone used a metaphor of feather versus the whole chicken and another said the difference is in the level of lighting and another said it depends with your taste. I however do not believe in the erotic-pornography continuum, it either intends to sexually stimulate or otherwise; simple.

Back to 50 shades, this is not a review of the book or the movie, I am more interested in why women want to hide behind the love story label. Why are women afraid of owning up to their sexuality? If a man watches porn, it’s normal but when a woman watches porn the whole world is horrified. Explains our hypocrisy about 50 Shades and the insistence to have a movie produced under the genre of ‘chic-flick’ or romance. It even explains why there are few to zero ministries to help women deal with pornography addiction. Women apparently do not struggle with the disorders of lust. Lust is a man’s problem. If I read another hypocritical blog about 50 Shades being sick and twisted or it being harmless fun, I will just flip. It is porn and it is exactly how porn is supposed to be. No grey areas about it, pun intended.

Women just like men are human beings and sexuality is an aspect of being human. While women are encouraged to be chaste, men are encouraged to explore their sexuality and gain as much experience as possible. Why the double standard dear society? It is a badge of honour for a man to have bedded half the town but a shame for a woman to have done the same. This is pretence of the highest level. Why society, why?
With women, your sexual experience is the definition of your character. A virgin is mostly considered a better woman than one who has slept with too many men. It doesn’t matter if the said virgin is a gossip, mean, pompous, rude among other negative things while the other woman is kind, empathetic, and humble among other positive things. Because of their sexual experience their character is decided in the eyes of majority. Even in 50 Shades Ana, the lead female was a virgin and Grey, the lead male had a vast history of sexual experience. Why couldn’t it be vice versa or just let Ana have experience too? It just goes on to perpetuate the double standard lie of virginity.

There is nothing that annoys me more than the numbers game. ‘The master key and crappy padlock’ metaphor to explain the differences in sexual values among men and women. Whoever came up with that needs to be beaten up. If you are not familiar with it, do not bother knowing what it is. I do not want your values corrupted. Women need to watch their number of sexual partners but for men who cares about numbers right. Too many partners and you will be termed “spoilt goods”, “easy” or “loose”. Why were these terms invented? Recently, I asked a girlfriend of mine why women should observe the ‘famous’ 90-day rule. She said to protect herself. Protect herself from what exactly? She calmly replied, from sleeping with the wrong guy. Who is the wrong guy? The guy who does not love her. So it’s okay to sleep with the man who loves you but there is a problem if a woman has a friend-with-benefits or a one night stand? So why isn’t there a 90-day rule for men? If you ask me, the 90-day rule is the most foolish thing I have ever heard in my lifetime. According to scientific evidence infatuation lasts for four months; so if the guy was only infatuated with you, will 90 days make him suddenly fall in love with you? I doubt it. If he was planning to “hit it and quit it”, I highly doubt 90 days will make a difference. The 90-day rule is just part of the numbers hullabaloo. What is it with men and asking about a woman's sexual history? will it make you feel better that there was only one guy before you or do you seriously expect a thrill-seeking, beautiful, extremely liberal, single woman past the age of 30 to have only slept with three guys since her first experience at 18? Take it from me: if she is past the age of 25, do not ask, you do not want to know.

As women we need to stop calling other women whores, unless it is her profession. If we women call other women whores, won’t it not give men the right to do so? Your sexual values are personal and that is between you and your creator. Do not impose them on others. You believe in waiting until marriage, good for you. Do not call other women whores because they choose otherwise. So you have had numerous FWBs, do not call other women prudes or uptight because they are not as liberal as you are. So you only have sex when you are in a relationship, do not frown upon her choice to have casual sex. A woman’s sexuality and sexual choices is her business. Women just like men are more than their sexual choices. Our sexuality as human beings is something personal and we should keep it that way. The point of this rant is, sexuality just like religion is universal, there should be no double standards about it. An atheist, muslim, christian, hindu or agnostic is such whether man or woman. If we are going to use labels let the rules apply to both men and women. So ladies can we agree that 50 Shades of Grey is not a love story?

Work versus Family.

A while back our group leader asked us to post something about work and family, it’s been a while, (sorry) so here goes my thoughts about it,

Am at a point of my life where my time is balanced between doing a very tasking management research paper, doing a couple of assignments and continuous assessment tests, and the major stressing bit, applying for jobs. This has got to be the most stressing moment in my life, sending your CV everywhere until one of my good friends joked that our job should be stated as “kazi yangu ni kutafuta kazi” loosely translated to mean “my job is looking for a job”. Really hoping that I do get that job, you know THE JOB!!

I do have other dreams though, of getting married to a blah blah blah you probably know those qualities by now, from my previous story, (remember Maxwell??) and having 3 or 4 beautiful kids. The problem is I don’t want to be that woman who is getting kids way past 40 years (no offense) just cause of a career. Sure I want a fabulous career, scale the corporate ladder and run a successful enterprise, but then again at what cost??

Let me digress just a little bit and give a story about me growing up. My dad (RIP) was a banker, later got to learn he was a credit officer at National Bank of Kenya, and he was a one busy individual. He would leave very early in the morning and would come back home late in the night. Was it work it?? On one hand, money was not a problem, anything you wanted was available, food, trips, cash anything you name it, it was available. However this came at a cost, very heavy cost, he was never ever available. I rarely saw him and I missed his fatherly in my life. I was pretty young and I often asked why I didn’t get to see him as much as I wanted and why he was never there.

A friend of mine argued that we need money, but I beg to differ money is something, that I do not dispute, but it is not everything.  Money can get you a house not a home, money can get you an education but not knowledge and wisdom. I may be the CEO or CFO or those other many titles that I may possess, but if I go home to any empty house with only a cat to keep me company, then my life will not be complete in any way. I may have all the wealth on this earth but with no heirs to my wealth? It will all be vanity.

I desire that my children will get to spend one on one time with me, that I will get to play and jump around with my children. I desire to spend a lot of time with my children especially in their young and formative years.

If it means staying at home with my kids for some time as a stay at home mum, that I will do.

For me, family and only family comes first.

A blast from the past.

MEET THE WOLVES OF KABETE STREETS….

It’s a dark Monday evening. No lights. Darkness looming over the chilly environs of Kabete. Lovers in bed trying to affirm their quail egg myth, loaners curled up in the middle of nowhere and a number of other activities going on everywhere else .I can only understand the beasts. They’ve braced the weather; the marauding nature in them can’t allow the damn weather to dampen their spirits.

With much articulation and mutual understanding, volunteers procure wood from without, put up a fire at the famous Dunga and its roll and go at the uniting grounds…

First, it is a few individuals smoking, wining, facebooking  and all the lot with some melancholic type just staring on as the sparks gather momentum. Thirty minutes and you can trace virtually all the Kapenguria Hall residents at the gathering. Evidently enjoying the warmth or just being present. Some seasoned drunk comrade complains of the awkward silence and threatens to put out the fire. The grunts and giggles, awkward as well, give the impression that no one want to get out of the mystical feeling the Bonfire is generating. A few lonely or maybe just courageous fun loving lady comrades come peeping (it may as well be In search of ‘warmth’) at safe distances. But we are all safe here anyway.

As the muffled chats and giggles die down, the expected happens. The crowd loving politicians, amazing how they come to know of gatherings, come around to air their perceived impactful ideas on the electorate. First is some block J resident. Smart and confident carrying about an aura of self importance. He utters some verbal diarrhea and leaves. All the people can get from his poorly delivered speech is that he’s a module 2. “We want a kaquater to role our way. Not  empty talk from loose mouths .We protect our own dude!”

 Second on the unprogrammed list is another aspirant. Calm by nature but I guess the little cash with him stirs some unexploited potential that he thinks if  put into good use can add to his fortunes. He ‘speaks’ well amidst a few disturbances and totally squashes the crowd with a few bottles of sober drinks to make legends out of the already drunk boys. The teetotalers also have something to smile about as they each get a ‘Madiaba’- old-fashioned for that one big bottle that fills your bowels with gas. The aspirant leaves and the name sink. Washington.  Hope its not going to be a ‘wash wash’ affair signor Washington. These guys are damn unpredictable!

9.00pm. Dying embers and so are the hopes of many to continue enjoying the free flowing warmth of comradeship. Noise: whistles, much shouting and all that is ghostly can be heard. The source, some other pocket of goons led by the most distinguished HR manager (with a beverage name) and his ‘sons’. The elder son, a noisy lot utters unprintables to the crowd for ignorantly  watching the fire die out and threatens to  kick their fucking asses off but restores hope  by volunteering to “get more wood for these motherfuckers!”. True to his word, he comes moments later loaded with pieces of Timber and a lot of plastic. We gladly take in the hydrocarbons without saying a word. This is heat man; we don’t care what’s burning.  Hats, Plastics, beds , chairs people or Pants. We don’t care.

With no provocation whatsoever, the elder son starts throwing insults at whomever he thinks deserves them. The other baby faced son keeps close to his dad stick in mouth, bottle in hand…. “I keep my cool man. Me not a fucking nigger that pours shit on people. See?”

All this time, a couple of silent sponges and rodents have kept their word by remaining faithful to their drink and grass. The noisy son stirs them up by pulling a joke on the dress code of one. The self praising US raised nigger stops chewing, looks at his Timberland shoes and shakes his head probably wondering why the world is moving at such a slow pace. He resumes the cud chewing and again stares at his maroon office trousers and the rather grey shirt and shakes his head again. Truth just dawned on him, all his pieces of clothing aren’t matching! Who cares about fashion and dress codes anyway?

"Am a nigger of my own class. I do what I want; you got shit in between your ears man. I chew this stuff coz I don’t wanna sleep (hungry maybe). Get me more drink muthaf*!” he blubbers with a rather heavy Kamba accent. The crowd goes wild with such laughter that am afraid my eardrums will need special attention. A friend to the nigger, some Afro guy can’t let the moment pass. He narrates of how the  US raised nigger (a lover of Ugali) paid a visit to the local Poshomill at Mwimuto but got drunk along the way just to end up buying a sack of Mogoka totally forgetting everything about maize and milling. Here he is, hungry as hell. All he has to do is add more drink and herb juice in his already charred belly.

The HR manager wonders aloud how a panel of professors sat down for whooping hours and settled at enrolling such heads at one of the most prestigious University in Kenya.

 All that follows is a myriad of jokes thrown haphazardly. Ranging from how to use the toilet (a guy swore that no one sits on the damn things! We all step on them precariously. You hit the target and run to avoid the splash.) to how best to get good grades. Amazing how they can’t dare digress much from the mainstream-Academics. Academicians indeed!

As the uproar intensifies, some timid first years can be spotted in the midst. Probably trying to understand a Kabete gone mad. The actors run low on jokes and sarcasms. Am still to know where the idea came from but ‘Event organizers’ thought it a perfect opportunity to endorse one of their own. Talk of weight and weighty matters. Mzito for President. ‘Mzito apewe pahalI pazito’ is all that can be heard. The Njenga Karumes, Waititus, Wakolis and Atwolis of our time take it upon themselves to welcome the president address his people. The ones wild crowd now exhibits the quietness of angels. Am amazed so we all are sober? The President indeed speaks, just for formality, for his endorsement goes unopposed.

Truth be said, He’s a good guy-the kind of leader so rare to come by. Not in for power but comes to articulate issues. Focused and real, with no known personal interests. Who can say no to such a pearl? Mzito for campus REP. It is done.

Lots of love Bcom class of 2015, an amazing lot. I finally got what love UNITY means. God bless...

1278 words on marriage...

Many of my girlfriends plan to get married by 2017. That will be two years after campus. Majority of us will be in the age bracket of 24-28. While it is good to aspire to marriage I can’t help but detect a hint of rushing. What is so terrible about being 30 and single? Why do women struggle to change their marital status to married by 30? What exactly happens at 30 that nobody wants to celebrate their 30th birthday as a single lady? 30 is not really then end of life. It’s not like menopause starts at 30. Neither do wrinkles or old age. So why the rush?  Why is it that men have no issues being 30 and single?

People have no idea how complicated marriage is. If your boyfriend cheated on you, you will kick him out of your life faster than he can say sorry. If your husband (for-better-or-worse-till-death-do-you-part) cheated on you while you are on a career break with triplets in your hands and a mortgage to be paid will you do the same? I bet you are yelling yes. But marriage is not that simple. Marriage is more than just status. It is the joining of two lives. Everything in marriage is exaggerated. One of the leading causes of divorce is finances. Love is apparently supposed to conquer everything even being broke but somehow couples split up because they cannot agree on money. People fight about finances to the point that someone prefers divorce so that the court can decide on a standard amount of alimony and child support to be paid. That way he does not have to deal with arguing with his partner on spending habits or reveal all his financial secrets.

Now back to this 2017 business. 2017 will be two years after campus. Isn’t that the best time to be single? Two years after campus will be the time you have started to figure your way through the career ladder, you will no longer be the fresh naïve graduate who does not understand the politics & power dynamics in the office. If you are very lucky, you will be joining lower level management at your workplace. You will finally be getting your money right and if you are the saving type, you will have quite an amount in your bank account. Now more money in your bank account means more financial freedom. Financial freedom equals freedom to make financial mistakes, freedom to take risks, freedom to party like a working class for example take road trips and visit different towns. If you are married by then, you will have to cut down on the fun and financial risk-taking and invest in solid investments for your future because we know two thirds of babies conceived are unplanned. 

Now before you go ahead and call me shallow and immature. I believe if you postpone these things, you are setting yourself up for a pathetic midlife crisis. While midlife crisis is unavoidable. A pathetic midlife crisis involves old people losing their minds and start to do foolish things like partying with and dating 20 year olds, spending money on thoughtless stuff among other disasters; adventures they should have had in their twenty’s. Every person should enjoy their youth to a point where they are fed up and are content to leave their youth behind and pave way to new things, women especially. Marriage is tough and it is sad to see an immature person get married because it is an institution that requires some level of maturity to be successful. People develop at different rates and while some people are ready to get married at 23, some are better off staying single till they are in their 30s.

Marriage is responsibility. Three quarter of the current male population in Kenya still have the belief that taking care of the home is the sole business of his wife. These men have no intention of approaching marriage as a partnership. For them his wife will be something close to a maid. He has no intention of doing house chores while his wife relaxes because that is apparently unmanly. The average guy will probably never change diapers either or soothe the baby to sleep at 3 a.m. as you catch some much needed sleep. Now since majority of my girlfriends believe in being submissive and all that, why they are keen to get into such an arrangement two years after campus beats me. It’s already scary enough paying rent, electricity, water bills, mortgage, HELB loan, and at the same time investing and saving for your future among other things. Now add for better or worse dynamic on top of all that; and you have the recipe for a mental break down right there.

I find it ironic that men are usually the ones who are keen to postpone marriage for as long as possible yet reality is men can have it all. For a woman, it is next to impossible to have it all. If you spend too much time in the office you will probably be a terrible mother hardly seeing your children. If you become a good mother and wife you will probably have to slow down on the career progression until your children are all grown up. It’s a tradeoff for most women. Then add the being submissive and housekeeping dynamics and you realize women should have more reasons to postpone marriage.

For my girlfriends who plan to get married by 2017 though, here are a few tips: one just because your best friend is getting married in 2017 it doesn’t mean you should. She has probably dated her boyfriend since they were 8 while you my dear girl are single so keep that in mind as you validate your dreams. 

Two if a man tells you he wants to be married in 2027 you best believe him, you will not change his mind about it and make him walk down the aisle in 2017. So be patient till 2027 or cut your losses and look for a man who has the desire to be married to you in 2017 as well. 

Three failing to plan is planning to fail. If you want to get married in the next two years, you should be seriously dating right now. Stop hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who blows hot and cold. Cut that man loose. He is way too immature to start courting let alone get married. Stop infatuating over the “dream-guy” who put you in the friend zone. You are not his dream girl and you never will be. So accept and move on. While love is great, love is not sufficient to make a marriage work. If you are incompatible you are incompatible. No point getting married with a lump in your throat. 

Four, desperation is a terrible trait. Learn to enjoy your own life. Develop hobbies and make a life for yourself. Also not every relationship is supposed to end up in marriage so do not coerce or manipulate a man into marrying you. The best kind of commitment is the one that people grow into and there is nothing wrong with being the single woman among your clique. Being single is hard but trust me it is probably the best season in your life so enjoy it while it lasts and stop this 2017 madness. Get married when the time is right, the person is right and the place is right.

PS: Do not invite me to your wedding committees if it involves contributing money. Please live below your means and throw a wedding you can afford. Best wishes.

Secret of Love

Imagine a large circle
And in the center of it, rays of light spreads out to the circumference
The light in the center is God.
Each of us is a ray
The closer the rays are to the center
The closer are the rays to one another

The closer we live to god
The closer we are bound to one another
The further we are from god
The further we are from one another

The more each ray departs from its center
The weaker it becomes
And the closer it gets to the center
The stronger it becomes

The secret of love is for each man to live as close to god as s/he can
And he will thereby  live closer to his beloved
In Him(God), self love becomes perfected
In him also we love our neighbor as ourselves

(anonymous)

The emptiness of life...

EMPTY….

Forlorn and weary, he stared down. Sharp stinging pain welling in his eyes. The optical muscles no doubt had sworn to betray him today.  He tried hard to hold the tears back but two big tear drops eased themselves out of their rather tense environment. They found their course down his cheeks. Big warm salty things that left a trail on either side of his nose that had with time gotten runny. He sneezed involuntarily and a spray of fluids painted an awkward image on his shirt. Bitter feelings engulfed his whole person. Feelings of hate and distaste. Trembling, he opened the eyes he had momentarily shut to prevent a gush of tears. He looked down again tears flowing freely. No need to hold anything back even if it meant draining his tear glands dry. “Why? God, why should you allow this to happen” he asked loud.

Down she laid. Calm as ever and in the fullness of her gory. Tall, skin well toned, curvy and firm chested. Graceful arms, sharp nose, gleamy eyes that were, firm tacit thin lips that just the other day were having fun with his. Hers was a beautiful face that told of a story.

A painful lump built itself up Ryan’s throat. He spat and cursed at the unfairness of life.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you!! You are such a bad reaper!” he swore to his breath and broke down into a fist of sobs that culminated into wails. He wanted to cry himself hoarse.  He grabbed at the now lifeless body of Judith. He stared deep down in her surprisingly open eyes and saw so many possibilities. A dream shattered, a future spoilt, a beauty wasted, a mother denied a daughter and grandchildren, a loss of productive labor force for a nation so much in need, a loss of a friend, a loss of love, a loss of life. A tear cascaded down his chin and directly fell in Judith’s left eye. She slowly closed it as if she had been eagerly waiting for her last dose which in this case had to be administered through her eyes.

 “I loved you dear... I really loved you! So sad that you had to leave so early”

Ryan carefully laid her down on the very bed she had nursed and fought her ailments from. It smelled of olive oil and a mixture of gases identifiable with a medical laboratory. Looking at the shelf, he noticed an array of bottles full to the brim with capsules and tablets that the doctors in their knowledgeable opinion thought were supposed to bring life to his dream girl.

 He shook his head in disbelief and as if in mockery and defiance, a bandage roll came tumbling down from the shelves bringing with it a rather unfriendly syringe that landed between his feet missing her big toe by an inch. He wished it could have hit him hard if only for him to share in the pain that Judith had to endure in her daily jabs. He gave it a kick and it rolled under the bed. He reached for the curtains and drew them an inch as if in a desperate attempts to welcome the world to share in his sorrows. There was no morning sun. No singing birds. No nothing. He could not even see through the mist that engulfed the neighborhood. Cold misty wind blew in. He spotted an owl prying around the garbage heap. Disappointed, he drew back the curtains and noticed by the windowsill a bottle case full of multicolored pills. The labels on the sides shouted that they were sleeping pills. He emptied the contents in his palm and was at the verge of swallowing them all when the family cat jumped in from outside knocking his hand and sending the pills scattered on the floor. He cursed in disgust. With Judith gone, he felt life had lost meaning. He was better dead than alive.

It was Judith that had always brought forth fond memories. He felt nostalgic about almost every moment they spent together. The countless adventures they had in the woods, the tours they had made to children homes, the coffee dates, the boat rides. It is this friend who could keep him waiting for hours at the riverside just for a hug. They had thrown leaves and pebbles in the river and watched them float downstream, counted the ripples made by each pebble throw, kissed and listened to each other breath to while time. They could hold hands and watch the sun set in the horizon sending pale sometimes yellow soft rays that shone on their faces. Judith often seemed transfigured. Her coming home was a thing welcomed by all. Mum was particularly glad at her sense of maturity and gracefulness. The younger siblings adored her smile and big heart that manifested itself in the various gifts she brought home, the sisters rejoiced in her simplicity and talent to plait. Judith was part of them all, how lucky was Ryan?

But then the enemy came. Determined to cause him pain, the enemy hit hard at the death spot. At the very point that mattered. The enemy denied him joy cutting short his dreams. Who was the enemy punishing? Judith or Him? What had the poor soul done to deserve such cruelty?

“Mum, you’ve lost an in-law, sisters you’ve lost a friend, Kenya you’ve lost a nurse, Ryan you’ve lost a wife to be”, He sobbed. Amidst the pain and sobs, he reached for a bed sheet, covered the now lifeless body and made for the door.

“I have to inform mum, I have to inform Linda, and I have to inform the government that Judith is dead”

If only he knew any of her family, if only he knew her background, if only he knew her home, if only he had time to listen to her last wishes.

 He regretted deeply having overlooked all these. He only knew Judith as a Rwandan refugee who had sought custody in Kenya. They met at a UN function, had lunch, exchanged pleasantries and before they realized had gotten so tight and inseparable. Judith was in a Medical school pursuing a diploma in nursing on a sponsorship she declined to disclose. It never really mattered at the time for what they had was a joining of hearts. Ryan, four months after his completion of graduate school with a bachelors degree in commerce was volunteering at the UN as an accounts clerk.

Love and fate brought the two together, for the joy of them all at the beginning but for the loss and pain of one at the end. The transition so unexpected that Ryan, left to lick his wounds in solitude still asks: is there victory in death?