food/love/life/film

Monday, November 28, 2011

Egypt is not my home, neither

I am beginning to see the value of a husband.

After I escaped the evil clutches of the desert of MORDOR (yes, I lived in Mordor. I refer to it as a desert because there was no water...ever. Turning on taps at work became a favourite pastime to cleanse my soul, because I would be so very excited that something was coming out.), I moved to Foreverland. Foreverland is a nice place to live. It is very, very far from my kind mother who brings me nyoyo and nyuka. Ah, nyuka...however, it has its benefits. Namely...RUNNING WATER. So far, I feel that is all...I need...to get by...hehe.

Now, on my second night, it rained cats and dogs (refer to previous post before I launch into another lyrical...waxation on said topic...it also rained other things, as you will soon see. By Jove, I hate the rainy season.), and thus, Foreverland turned into a massive pond. As I stepped out of the public tranportation vehicle that wa transporting me (also, I have not figured out any of the names of the stages around me. I keep throwing out arbitrary landmarks around the esto lest I land it. I am currently on the supermarket and kindergarten nearby), a small black...thing hopped and flailed about near my foot.

It was a cute little frog. I rapidly scurried away. Upon entering the estate, I met its mother. Not so little. Not so cute. I let out an embarrassing shriek (and thus met 2 of the neighbours, not counting the frogs) and ran past it trying to keep a healthy one metre between us (like it was a boy) and leapt (nine lords a'leaping, was it? Twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten maids a'milking, nine lords a'leaping,...no. Twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a'leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a'milking, seven swans a'swimming, six geese a'laying fiiiiive golden riiiiings! Fourcallingbirdsthreefrenchhenstwoooturtledoves AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE! I barely like Christmas, but am apparently quite fond of digressing) into the digz. After which I proceeded to plug what now seems a gaping hole under the door (poor thing was probs just for ventilation).

When I got inside, everything just seemed to be making noises to agitate me. (of COURSE) I haven't unpacked, so all the plasric and sijui what keeps making...noises to agitate me. And agitated I was.

My points are as follows:
1. Had there been a man around, I would have been too distracted to notice plastic getting comfortable on the floor. I realize that this works for any other species as well, but I started off with husbands, so.
2. A man would have valiantly offered to smash - ok, chase away - the gargantuan (3 inch. Like a killer heel.) Mother Toad (Motherload. Get it? Hehehehehehe) who was attempting to make my digz her home base. And I would have felt better.
3. All other critters would have been warned away from this valley of the shadow of death...ly husband.

Moral of the story? I need hypnotherapy for my phobias. For real, doe.

tSN

p.s. Am I the only one in the world who did not know that miscrepancy is NOT a word? For shame, internal dictionary. For SHAME. *wags finger*

Monday, November 21, 2011

A prayer

I was talking to the good Lord this morning today about this RAIN ALL
THE FREAKIN TIME thing. I envisioned Him as most people do; an
old,wizened trickster with rosy cheeks (the model upon which Santa
Claus/St. Nicholas was molded. If Jesus was a swarthy Israeli/hot Arab
dude,God could be Dutch and able to yodel - smite me not,ye gods
against neo-colonialism - and thus,there is a fairly good chance that the
Holy Spirit is black,hence the reason you barely see the dude,hiding
from the cops etc lol jk),laughing heartily at me as I shook my fist
at the sky and He called out something completely unhelpful in my
current predicament,like "Think of the farmers!" or "Rain is a
blessing!" Ok,though honestly,the farmers thing may help. Starving
people and all.

I decided to detail all the things bothering me about these showers of
blessing,in case he feels the need to comment below.

1. On Sunday, I was wearing a pretty cotton dress, which might as well have been nylon for all the good it did me. I got home so soaked, a random stranger in the hood said "Pole kwa mvua." I felt like a wet, bedraggled cat, and I also found out that my leather - hereby referred to as pleather - is not impermeable to water. *sigh* Had I NOT entered Tuskys to buy that Snickers bar...

2. I walk for about 20 minutes to get to work (but my slim figure is ABSOLUTELY natural). Now, when it's raining, I'm going to either be sick when I get to work, or not leave for work until it stops (as I am not in possession of a car, a driver, or a rich man to provide either). When the rain does not stop, however, the world is deprived of my genius. This, is bad.

3. It is a FREAKIN KICK IN THE FACE WHEN THERE IS NO WATER RUNNING THROUGH THE TAPS IN THE HOUSE AND THERE'S BLOODY ZAMBEZI RIVER OUTSIDE. Pardon my French, Lord, but. For real, doe???!!!

4. This weather is not conducive for anything but following your commandment (be fruitful and multiply). Within the lawful boundaries of course. Of course! Sheesh.

You know, maybe you could give the rain to the people who really need it. Like the farmers and the drought-stricken, etc. I suppose that would completely defeat the point of Matthew 5:45 : "...because he makes his sun rise on both evil and good people, and he lets rain fall on the righteous and the unrighteous."

We can't just remove that verse, can we? No? Ok.

tSN

p.s. Also, as soon as I started writing this post, the rain stopped. I guess that was his comment. I have His ear, y'all. Halla at a girl.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Grown folk bidness, part 3

THIS LIFE!

You will all be pleased to know that I have purchased a few things for my humble abode (I'm really not kidding with the humble part),and I am now the proud owner of several household items,some of which include a torch,a mwiko,not one but FOUR sufurias,and a bed (WITH a mattress!), all of which I am resisting the urge to label with my name in permanent marker like I'm in high school.

Moving was a bit of drama. I started moving into the place at 5 p.m. because the dodgy ex-tenant hadn't left yet. But it was done,and thanks to the wonderful helping hands of @chichikimani and @arungaian,it went much faster than it would have done had I been going at it alone.

Then I realized that the bed I was given by my brother had no screws. Because I have never had to assemble a bed before,I had no idea I even needed screws. To which I was asked,kwani you think it's Lego?

O.o

I like my place. Can you believe that? My place. All of a sudden,any song that has the word 'independent' is MY JAM. However,I am thinking of moving again,because I have not had water in the digz since I moved in. I managed to find the one place in Mordor,a well-known arid,desert-like and generally evil-involving area (as one can gather from the name),where the landlord doesn't have a tank. It's one week and counting. I'm pretty gangsta,but even *I* can't hack.

ION,people in this our Nairobi actually buy and use butt cutlets,to the point that they're sold out in shops.

O.o

tSN