A Miraculous mother

We currently moved in a new house and I was busy spring-cleaning every room because the family that was previously residing there left the house in a complete mess. With clutter and jumble all over the place. Is this normally the drill everywhere? Because its maddening and infuriating.
Anyway, I needed to get out of the house through the back door but it was locked. So I asked my mother for the keys.
Me: Mum! (No answer)
       Mummy! (Louder this time)
       (No answer)
       Mother!! (Almost blaring this time but still no answer) Is it just my mother or all mothers in the world relish being called more than once??!? (No answer)
     : Muuum!! (earsplitting this time)
My mummy: Yes! (like nothing was amiss)
Me: Where are the back door keys?
My mummy: On the shelf in the kitchen.
I find the keys on the shelf.
Me: This bunch of keys??
My mummy: Eeehh (yes)
Me: Which one precisely?
My mummy: Am new in this house too. Try all of them.
Me: What?? Am supposed to find one key from this bunch of a million keys?!? Aaargh! (mumbling to myself of course)
Half an hour later,
Me: (yelling to my mother) I cant seem to find the key to this door!
My mummy: Its there!
Me: sipati (I cant find it)
My mummy: okay, let me come.
I handed over the bunch of keys and left her to maneuver her way to get the door open.
Ten seconds later, the door opens. Whaaat?? You must be freaking kidding me! I was sure I tried all the keys. I struggled with that door for half an hour and yet my mother opened it in seconds!
My mummy: Its open!
Me: Yes, I heard
Sometimes I do not get how this astounding woman gets to do these things. She always knows where to get my best attire, my pair of shoes, my favorite spoon, cup and plate, the needle, and all those things that I spend hours looking for. She is like a magician, I am certain that I have keenly and profoundly searched for a particular item and even turned the place upside down and its not there, but when mother comes to find it, voila! It shows up. I know, I know I do not comprehend it either. Its just amazing. And miraculous.

Expression of inner self

I hardly ever cry. I also do not have the slightest of inkling why my tear glands do not execute this onus that they were unambiguously fashioned to perform. Maybe its because they are just slothful like I can be, or its because they are cognizant of the fact that crying makes me pant and huff like somebody who has ran a thousand miles and I get a running nose that compels me to keep on blowing my very subtle nose every two seconds. It gets exasperating. My very white eyes also turn very red when I cry and I detest it when that happens.Or it could be because these glands are acquainted with the datum that I am a very strong woman. I am resilient and tough so I can handle just about anything. Those can be, among other reasons, why my tear glands opt to live without a care in the world.
I cry during burials. Burials are depressing and blue. Other people bellow, others squeal, others are seen to meditate silently and others faint....Whichever way one deems fit to express his/her inner sensations. However, I cry when somebody who matters has died. I do not shriek when the cousin to the cousin of my late great grandmother has died. Or the aunt to the cousin of my granddad has passed on. You get those relations? I am not being malicious or callous, that's just me being me.The last time I cried was at my grandmother's burial.
(May God rest her soul in blissful perpetual rest) I loved (and still do) her with every vein in my system so I was allowed to shriek and screech and bellow and squeal and meditate and faint, all at the same time. Prior to that, I cannot reminisce when I cried last.
However, today I succumbed to the pressures of this life. After fighting and confronting with the feeling for a while, I could not take it anymore. The affliction was way beyond my tough, resilient, and sturdy self. I broke down. I cried profusely for an hour because the person I trusted and looked upon for every small detail in life had let me down. This person turned out to be a total disappointment. I was hurt immensely, intensely and deeply.  But life goes on. As I got up from my bed (with puffy red eyes of course) after an hour of soaking in tears and panting, I felt much better and acknowledged the element that it is okay to shed a tear once in a while.

Girls' code

Just like men have their bro codes, we girls do have our codes too. The variance comes in where the girls codes are one million times more than the bro codes. One day, just one day, I will go through these codes step by step but for now, I want to look into one that typically baffles me. This is how it goes....dear girlfriend, you should NEVER EVER date my ex even if your love life depended on it.
I don't comprehend why there is so much hullabaloo from women when their ex decides to date the friend. If there is a spark between the two, then let them be. Furthermore, that is why he is an ex....you are done with him and life goes on. I mean, his manhood does not end with you, as a matter of fact, it was an exercise.
I do not approve of this code because the dating life of this guy is not expected to come to a halt. It lingers.
You might be asking and saying that this dating life should not continue with a pal. That there is a copious number of other women out there, it did not have to be her. What if that is the girl he has genuinely fallen for? The only one who fathoms him better than anybody else including himself? The one who completes him wholly and thoroughly?? Whose kisses are the best and makes his blood boil and temperature to rise? The one who makes all answers make sense unlike the previous one who made all answers look like questions? And it goes on and on...
Frankly, if both parties have these matching feelings, then a woman who never really cared about the relationship should not make a racket and instead, she should countenance to this relationship and let this undying love to flourish into a striking and stunning flower.
Now, I am not saying that it is tolerable where the woman still has feelings for this guy and the buddy is fully aware of this. This is erroneous. As a pal, one should not even let the idea fix itself in her brains. It shows how discourteous and insensitive one is.

Growing up

My kid brother is all grown up now. Or so he thinks. I recall an incident when he was 9 years old and in class 4, he locked me out of the bathroom because apparently, he was taking a shower and wanted privacy.
"Collins, open this door!"
"What do you want?" (seriously? Everybody has a right to enter the bathroom)
I remained placid and replied, "The hair conditioner on the shelf"
"What for?"
An aggravated me was gradually launching but I had to be tranquil otherwise I would die a slow death trying to get my atrocious brother to open the bathroom door.
"To add it to the cooking meal in the kitchen for flavor" I replied serenely.
"Ha! I will tell mummy you want to kill all of us when she gets back"
He actually thought I would add the hair conditioner to the food. What am I? An alien from Jupiter?
"Of course its for my hair stupid!" I was now getting agitated and I could not grasp why this little thing needed privacy!
He finally unbolted the lock and hid behind the door.
In a smirk he said, "I don't want you to see my dudu" (For you all, that's a dick (are the small ones also called dicks? Because I think they are too tiny and innocent and gullible to suit that name) and if you feel affronted by that, I would benevolently ask you to grow up)
For crying out loud, I was not interested in that small little thing of his. But of course, how would he fathom this. I got in and took what I needed. Without another word to him. He hates silent treatment.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No baby, I am actually very happy with you for making me stand at the door for that long!"
He knows that tone.
"am sorry"
Aaaww....I love it when he apologizes, with that cute baby face of his (Oh! He has a baby face because he is still a child...kinda slips my mind all the time) and the piggy little eyes. Reminds me that I am the older one, and I deserve all the respect in the world.
"Its okay lil chap!"
Then I left the bathroom.
Five minutes later, the house help effortlessly gets into the bathroom and helps him get a shower. Too much for privacy I guess.
Now, 3 years later, he is in a boarding school and I miss him terribly. It hit me how fast years are going by, and soon, he will be going through the ritual! You know what I mean. (chuckles).

Doctors' Day

Last week, I went to see a doctor. No, I did not feel like it was malaria or typhoid or T.B or worse, breast cancer. My back was throbbing. My lower back to be precise. It has been agonizing for like two years now. I cannot bend and stand up like any other normal human being, I have to do it in phases because standing up instantly hurts awfully, I cannot lift heavy loads without feeling like the entire world is spinning right in front of my eyes and when I stretch, I hear those breaking sounds of the joints or whatever it is that makes those sounds. I get gutted every time I hear that noise. My very young and boisterous bones are now giving me reverberation when I decide to stretch.
I woke up very very early, at 6.30 a.m (yes...this is very early for me now that I am in for my fleeting holiday) and my mum dropped me off at the doctors place of work at 7.30 a.m. And she left. Gone are the days when my mummy used to accompany me to the doctor and elucidate all my ailments. Now I had to do it on my own.
When I got to the waiting bay, I was dazed to find a long queue with all kinds of people. When did this people leave their beds?? Did they even sleep?? I almost turned back and left (I am one impatient person, I hate being kept waiting) but when I harked back to the nightmare that I am going through with this backache, I sat down...like everybody else and resolved to wait.
One hour, two hours, three hours and I was still lingering the slow moving queue. These are the times I have those inner voices in my head that almost make me go bizarre...
"Go ahead and leave, you are slaying your time"
"No darling, a lil more fortitude and the doctor will see you"
"You could be doing what you love most you know....sleeping"
"Its okay...you will sleep after this"
And it went on and on until I wanted to scream, "back off both of you, its my life, I will do what I want to do" but of course everybody will think am at the wrong place... That I should be making queues at Mathare hospital instead, and not at a revered doctors place.
Anyway, I continued to wait.
Finally, it was my turn! I entered this gargantuan office filled with numerous books and all those equipment that a doctor requires and sat down. I explicated my quandary without leaving any detail, I even showed him how I stretch and hear the clattering, just in case it had slipped his mind how its done. I just had to be sure.
After paying attention to me and hearing my predicaments, he got a piece of paper and handed it over to me. A list of exercises with illustrations. Seriously? This? I waited for hours in a slow moving queue and paid consultation fee for me to be given a list of exercises to carry out??  I kept calm. Then asked, "why is there clattering in my back when I stretch?"
"Because at the point where your muscles and the joints......"
Obviously, I did not comprehend what he said next, but I just had to make my time worthwhile so I went on nodding like someone who was getting this whole concept of the bones and muscles being strained. He even got a vast book with illustrations to expound it even further. I lamented asking that question. After a moment of being lost in the doctors world, the dreadful moment was all over. I got my jacket and left a  disenchanted person because this is the modus operandi I expected after my heartbreaking explanation of how I was feeling, the doctor to frantically call an ambulance because this was an emergency, I mean, my bones were breaking! And an X-ray or a C.T scan done without any further ado. And I would go through all those machines just to get diagnosed and that thingamajig masquerading in my lower back discerned and expunged instantaneously. Clearly, it didn't happen as I had anticipated but its alright, at least I am not dying.
I felt that this doctor had not mastered his skills proficiently and these exercises would not be of any substantial help. So I went to see another doctor. A different one. There was no queue this time because I knew someone who knew someone and that someone knew someone who knew the doctor. After filling in a form with my details, he asked, "Is there anything that happened like 5 years ago?"
Uuuhhmm..yah! Barack Obama became the first black president. (I thought to myself of course) For pits sake, am supposed to recall what happened five years ago?? For the record, I have the memory of a tadpole. Call it memory lapse.
After thinking so hard, for like five minutes, I came up with...."No, nothing that I can remember". This one prescribed some medicine and asked me to go back after ten days to supplement the drugs with physio therapy in case there was no improvement. Now that's what am talking about. A professional. I did not need a list of exercises to do because I wouldn't do it on my own anyway.  I went home a blissful person.

Dressome

Obviously you are pondering what this dressome thing is. See, the way we have handsome, we also have dressome! It is a way of saying how incredibly dressed a person is. Please note, it is my own invention and yes, you can use me as the reference in your term papers and texts.
Men who have a tang in fashion and design are a turn on! A man who wakes up in the morning, takes a shower, dresses up tremendously well after applying that men lotion and to top up, puts on that cologne that has the fragrance of the fruits in the serene forests is every woman's desire!
Dear men, a lady can fall for you over and over again every time you are in that attire that she adores and loves.
A pair of jeans, a sexy shirt with these classy half coats that spices up the looks or the casual slim jacket and a pair of official shoes is that dress code in a man that kills me.... like literally killing me!
Please my brothers, ascertain that dress code that your woman fancies and trust me, you will have no delinquent in turning her on. It will be enchantingly done once you walk in through that door in her preferred outfit. You all are very welcome.

PET OBSESSION

Last week, we went for shopping at the T.R.M, for the ignorant fellows, this is abbreviation for Thika Road Mall. If you have not been there, I have no clue where else you could be going for your shopping sprees with your girls and/or family. Well... what I mean is your window shopping extravaganzas. Come on, only the diplomats, ambassadors, the whites and Indians who have vehemently rebuffed to settle anywhere else in the world except Kenya and of course the designated few in the country go to do their shopping at the Thika Road Mall. It is the same thing (window shopping) we were doing with my closest of buddy called Kim...yes, obviously not Kim Kardashian, otherwise it would not be window shopping but a very very serious shopping splurge. Kim is her nickname, other times I call her Kimmey when I need a huge favor from her...otherwise it will not be done. As we were in the middle of all the hullabaloo which was caused by the sight of all the magnificent and splendid items, from the clothes, shoes, tables, to the vast and pretty beds and so on and so on (the list is limitless), we saw an African woman. She was beautiful and was glowing like the rising shine. Her well placed breasts fitting impeccably in the awesome pink ship hon blouse she was wearing and which revealed a bit of her cleavage. Her curvy self could not go unnoticed and the way she swung her hips from side to side on those corridors, it exhibited the fact that she knew she got it, and was just flaunting it. Now that is a real and true African beauty. Anyway, this lady had something in her flawless arms. A white chihuahua.

Kim was overwhelmingly fascinated by this sight. I was not astounded by this because she loves animals, she practically knows all the different types of dogs and their importance. I had problems in my biology class identifying the botanical names of all the living things so clearly, I find this identification of dogs strenuous to my brain. 

I fail to understand why one could carry a chihuahua or any other pet for that matter, as company to go run some errands. These pets are just animals and are actually meant to be in the forest or somewhere enjoying the serenity of trees and rivers. So it beats me when people even take time to give their pets a bath, get them in their posh cars and drive them to go somewhere (I mean, most of them, in fact all of them (except for those keeping snakes, caterpillars and insects as pets whom I tend to think have a very serious medical condition) have four legs, more reason for them to walk), dry their furry fur and brush it afterwards and also give them food to eat in the same bowl you use or sleep in the same bed with your one year old baby boy. I completely do not comprehend all these things people do in the name of its my dearest pet called Brianna. Yes...they have names too, like any other normal human being. These animals give me the creeps. They make me feel itchy and uncomfortable when am having my delicacy. They also invade my amity when am having the best times in my life...sleeping. I just cannot stand them. 

To the pet keepers, please let these animals be outdoors and relish mother nature, let them meet other animals in the same genus as they are, so that they can interact and know their mother language (the English you have bombarded on them is just too much), let them use their own way of taking a shower once in a while and dispose off their waste products on their own. Just let them be.