tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43551455863926886592024-03-13T07:01:33.838-07:00Ifehenia's blogIvy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-11363454046939259272023-09-26T02:34:00.001-07:002023-09-26T02:34:32.287-07:00Taking Stock: September 2023<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0BMWPjDNj6GXwWXjNRrUTBri8zJvWbMsG4anpfQePLJhSSGpLCZq63_blzibgj9pBwVtaOtwj45Yamj9WYj1sXzkEDWVA6g1ICAkhI6rCNwEYMewzc-m7oqmdG0ldREP9dx8YmAu7Vo1fDfbfMuDBfcw6S1q3_0pHoWds08GQIsiP1tb5dt8pLlNwQ/s4032/IMG_7650.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0BMWPjDNj6GXwWXjNRrUTBri8zJvWbMsG4anpfQePLJhSSGpLCZq63_blzibgj9pBwVtaOtwj45Yamj9WYj1sXzkEDWVA6g1ICAkhI6rCNwEYMewzc-m7oqmdG0ldREP9dx8YmAu7Vo1fDfbfMuDBfcw6S1q3_0pHoWds08GQIsiP1tb5dt8pLlNwQ/w640-h480/IMG_7650.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p> No one reads blogs in 2023. That makes it so freeing to come here, dust this old blog and post something that only one random reader in Kazakhstan will read. Here goes!</p><p><b>Making</b>: my bed every morning, and getting a lot of joy from that.</p><p><b><strike>Cooking</strike> Marinating</b>: Fish and chicken since my nanny does most of the cooking.</p><p><b>Drinking</b>: Water. I've kept up the good habit of drinking lots of water since having Mutana. You need lots of water when pregnant and when breastfeeding, and I suppose just in general as a human. It took me 29 years to built this habit!</p><p><b>Reading</b>: All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr and I have just now realized that it's been made into a film, so guess who now has something to watch over the weekend / on my long upcoming plane rides?!</p><p><b>Wanting</b>: Cute floral dresses. Preferably matching ones with Mutana.</p><p><b>Looking</b>: out for any chocking hazards on every surface.</p><p><b>Playing</b>: Peekaboo, making faces and weird farty sounds with Mutana.</p><p><b>Wasting</b>: very little in this Nabii's economy</p><p><b>Sewing</b>: nothing, except repairing the odd pair of pants whose seam starts to stretch</p><p><b>Wishing</b>: for love, good health, laughter and joy to all my loved ones.</p><p><b>Enjoying</b>: evening walks, whenever I can manage</p><p><b>Waiting</b>: for 1 p.m. to go feed Mutana and get lunch myself</p><p><b>Liking</b>: A lot of vanilla scents</p><p><b>Wondering</b>: what parenting a toddler will be like</p><p><b>Loving</b>: My favorite dude & the best baby who ever baby-ed</p><p><b>Hoping</b>: To enjoy my first work trip away from Mutana without feeling mum guilt</p><p><b>Marveling</b>: At how quickly babies grow!</p><p><b>Needing</b>: Food in my tummy!</p><p><b>Smelling</b>: Fresh air. It's been raining lately and I love when that cleans the dust from the air</p><p><b>Wearing</b>: My every day mum uniform when at home: tights, a t-shirt and throwing on a cardigan to look serious on calls.</p><p><b>Following</b>: Lots of parenting content, especially on responsive parenting</p><p><b>Noticing</b>: How more at ease and les anxious I am lately</p><p><b>Knowing</b>: how well and completely loved I am (still!)</p><p><b>Thinking</b>: of how blessed I truly am as I go about taking stock</p><p><b>Feeling</b>: Super grateful for everything in my life. I have a healthy happy daughter who delights me, a loving partner, a great job, good health...</p><p><b>Bookmarking</b>: Newsletters to read, which I never get around to reading.</p><p><b>Opening</b>: Tabs to shop for babies clothes online but wondering if tax and shipping will justify it.</p><p><b>Giggling</b>: At Mutana's babbles, which sound almost like full on conversations with her nanny.</p>Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-44154342550261856012021-02-03T01:31:00.000-08:002021-02-03T01:31:19.218-08:00A Life Well Lived<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk61OG9D9_vgCQutGbMPGHFuwomfw6x16r0dU3QsnmC7Jb9p-LYcvGWtFG9suIPQf_1QDamTAdHn0-3flFgWF3816eUHJweVwzUrjrpZ51NQilgYvmDEIV-5tiyrQPjs_fm4S0X4c_fI/s1280/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-02+at+01.00.04.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk61OG9D9_vgCQutGbMPGHFuwomfw6x16r0dU3QsnmC7Jb9p-LYcvGWtFG9suIPQf_1QDamTAdHn0-3flFgWF3816eUHJweVwzUrjrpZ51NQilgYvmDEIV-5tiyrQPjs_fm4S0X4c_fI/w266-h400/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-02+at+01.00.04.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><span><div style="-en-clipboard: true;"><span style="font-family: Optima;">My grandma's sister, Cucu Nyokabi, passed away last week on Friday. 29th Jan 2021. She passed away at the age of 107. I found out first thing in the morning, when I opened my WhatsApp to see dozens of messages from my cousins. Multiple WhatsApp images captioned, "RIP cucu". Even though she had a long, wonderful life, the messages still caught me by surprise. "Say it isn't so", I murmured to myself as I scrolled through the few images that couldn't even begin to summarize her life. She was my grandma's last living sibling and I felt like this was the end of a generation.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;">I am named after my grandma, so in a way, Cucu Nyokabi was my sister. Those are the words my aunt used when she called me to update me about the plans for the burial, "Will you be able to come and bury your sister?" </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;">In the past few days, I have been thinking a lot about my grandma. My Cucu Nyokabi looked exactly like my grandma. My cousins and I were really fond of her because she reminded us of my late grandma. She was also the closest thing we had to a grandparent. Whenever any of us visited my grandma's house, we'd take a few minutes to pass by Cucu Nyokabi's house to say hi. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Optima;">Grandparents are such a blessing and it saddens me to say goodbye to my last one. Rest in peace Cucu. Rest in peace my sister. </span></div></span><br /></div>Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-44379160265315846182020-07-20T09:49:00.001-07:002020-07-20T09:55:20.279-07:00Just Start!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "optima";">In the middle of a pandemic, I have decided to resume something that once gave me so much contentment: writing. I don't really know where I am going with this don't they say to 'Just Start'? This is me - just starting. Perhaps I chose this day as my 'Just Start' because I woke up and my body was simply not co-operating. It was 13 degrees outside, my limbs felt lethargic and I simply had no inspiration for anything. I coerced motion within myself and somehow got through the day. I know this body well enough to recognize the signs of my 'lethargic episodes'. I also think I know it well enough to recognize when that lethargy wants to be left to its own devices versus when I need to shock it into motion. Today was an in-between day: I coerced myself into working and let my thoughts wander every few hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";">I have been thinking a lot about self-care recently. During one of our cooking / dish washing evening dates (that magical time of the evening when we get to catch up about the day - even if we've been in the same house all day), my partner and I were talking about self care and I joked that I am surprised that I even know how to practice it, seeing as how I was raised by a strong, black woman. Honestly, the only time I have seen my mum take a break is when she has been unwell. I, on the other hand, have been learning to listen to my body and some days it asks for rest and that's exactly what I give it. In the words of Upile Chisala,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";"> "<i>If you find yourself very black and very tired, </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";"><i>Very tired and very black.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";"><i>Very woman and very black and very tired,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";"><i>Rest and mean it."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";">What else have I been up to? Homemaking and surviving. At the beginning of this pandemic, I just focused on surviving. I had a lot of anxiety. I went through weeks of crippling anxiety and using work as an outlet a.k.a 'shock to get me into motion'. Once my partner commented on how a mutual friend was gardening on their balcony and that just triggered me! I was simply trying to get through each day and not think about my loved ones mortality. The human mind is fascinating. Somehow I adapted to holding that anxiety hand in hand with living. I am still anxious, it just no longer has me crippled. Now I can hold the fear of COVID in tension with the fear of killing my houseplants. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";">I have also</span> <span style="font-family: "optima";">somehow </span><span style="font-family: "optima";">planned a wedding in the middle of chaos. About that, I always wondered how anyone could continue with life in a crisis such as war: fall in love, have babies, etc. Yet here I am! My answer to future generations: hope is the thing with feathers, and life goes on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "optima";">There! That wasn't so bad. I'll try to continue writing.</span></div>
<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-33301344664260651362019-10-17T06:54:00.001-07:002019-10-17T06:54:31.609-07:00Taking Stock: October 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YIEuTrz7aihN67OzVvCr1abMlE7zy-SOIVVGsYe4bdlibQdp1yZ04pXf3mnpqVno9tRJqRP2-LM527V5NoBzyLNNHnEjBc49zfrh-AS1J2KEOREaLEZ2vmEN6AoPWyfKbndjffVXCxI/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="588" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YIEuTrz7aihN67OzVvCr1abMlE7zy-SOIVVGsYe4bdlibQdp1yZ04pXf3mnpqVno9tRJqRP2-LM527V5NoBzyLNNHnEjBc49zfrh-AS1J2KEOREaLEZ2vmEN6AoPWyfKbndjffVXCxI/s640/images.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This blog was headed to a timely death. You see, I have been getting the hang of adulting. I am 26, going onto 27. Can you imagine that? I am knees deep in the mid 20s and crawling into the late 20s. Some days that scares me, but most days I feel as if the stars are aligned. Before we get reacquainted, let me take stock after 2 yrs, 9 months. š <br />
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<b>Making</b>: Big life decisions like venues, dates, and themes for my (our?) wedding. Who knew there were so many things to decide!<br />
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<b>Cooking</b>: Fish in healthy ways lately as I try to champion my partner to eat healthier and manage his blood pressure (<i>I swear that I am not the cause of the blood pressure)</i>.<br />
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<b>Drinking</b>: Hot lemon and ginger (I know, a lot has changed in 2+ years yet I still have the flu!)<br />
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<b>Reading</b>: <a href="https://www.ynharari.com/book/sapiens/">Sapiens </a>(rather, struggling through Sapiens while finishing 2 other books in that time frame). I've been aiming to read at least 1 book a month this year and have done well, largely. I don't know why I am struggling with Sapiens yet <a href="https://www.ynharari.com/book/homo-deus/">Homo Deus </a>and <a href="https://www.ynharari.com/book/21-lessons/">21 Lessons for the 21st Century</a> was such a breeze.<br />
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<b>Wanting</b>: A house with a garden where I can put out warm lights and host polite parties... I'll settle for an apartment with a second balcony.<br />
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<b>Looking</b>: for signs everywhere. I have made a lot of big life decisions and it all still feels all so new and all so scary<br />
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<b>Playing</b>: more board games. I learned how to play Monopoly. I bought this great, fun board game called <a href="https://fiftyfiftyboardgame.com/">Kenyan 50-50 Board Game</a><br />
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<b>Wasting</b>: less... as I become of an adult and climate change becomes real... To be honest, I am spending more money eating out than I should, and not getting nearly enough joy out of it.<br />
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<b>Sewing</b>: nothing! I haven't been crafty in a year. I will be taking my own measurements to import a wedding dress, if that counts.<br />
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<b>Wishing</b>: for love, good health, laughter and peace of mind for all my loved ones. This is happiness to me.<br />
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<b>Enjoying</b>: long lunches with friends to catch up. Enjoying quality time with my partner.<br />
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<b>Waiting: </b>for 5 p.m. to go on a coffee thing. Also waiting to get home to catch the latest Grey's Anatomy and This is Us episodes!<br />
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<b>Liking</b>: A lot of lace and boho-chic things<br />
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<b>Wondering</b>: If I will always feel this happy<br />
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<b>Loving</b>: My favorite dude<br />
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<b>Hoping</b>: To find a miracle a.k.a a beautiful, well manicured wedding venue that costs less then KES 50,000<br />
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<b>Marveling</b>: At how much things change while remaining the same.<br />
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<b>Needing</b>: A vacation! But unfortunately I only have just enough days to use up for Christmas vacation. I also need a self-care day.<br />
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<b>Smelling</b>: Nothing, with the flu. (<i>See what I am marveling at above)</i><br />
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<b>Wearing</b>: A classic 'I barely have energy for anything today but still have to try to be cute' outfit made up of a black jacket, kimono like top, black pants and grey boots.<br />
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<b>Following</b>: A lot of boards on Pinterest<br />
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<b>Noticing</b>: My growing self confidence and just sense of 'self'<br />
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<b>Knowing</b>: how well and completely loved I am<br />
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<b>Thinking</b>: of how accessible everything is in this interconnected information age.<br />
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<b>Feeling</b>: A little overwhelmed at this point of the year. I have achieved so many goals in 2019 but it constantly feels as if the wheel never pauses.<br />
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<b>Bookmarking</b>: Words of affirmation and beautiful images on insta<br />
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<b>Opening</b>: Too many work related tabs with stuff that I need to read at some point<br />
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<b>Giggling</b>: At celebrity gossip on Edgar Obare's YT because I am not ashamed of my guilty pleasures.Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-69876062535563643582017-01-24T00:04:00.001-08:002017-01-24T00:05:53.159-08:00Taking Stock: January 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.cafleurebon.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/INTROSPECTION-STUDY-V-Parish-Kohanim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.cafleurebon.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/INTROSPECTION-STUDY-V-Parish-Kohanim.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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We are already 24 days into the new year but it's never too late to pause and reflect. I fully intend to be more introspective in 2017 (Case in point, I dusted up the old journal and posted for the first time in a year!)<br />
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So let's take stock:<br />
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<b>Making:</b> nothing at the moment. However, I intend to bring to life some DIY home decor ideas.<br />
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<b>Cooking:</b> a lot of stews lately. Peas, ndengu, kamande. After December I feel as if I need a meat cleanse.<br />
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<b>Drinking:</b> hot lemon and honey. At the moment it's because of the sore throat. Two weeks back it was because of the metallic taste from those awful deworming meds.<br />
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<b>Reading</b>: A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. Its very English. So much so that even though the main characters are all suicidal, you feel as if there is a general, "Chin up, old chap!" feeling all along. No one is more whiny than they have to be.<br />
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<b>Wanting:</b> potted succulents in my house! And a knitted bikini because I already have plans for the birthday!<br />
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<b>Looking:</b> inward, but not too much. I have a great relationship with my inner self but I think it could be better. At the same time, I am being intentional about keeping in touch with the people who matter.<br />
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<b>Playing:</b> some music from NPR Tiny Desk Concert<br />
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<b>Wasting:</b> time. Mainly because I am in a weird transitional / limbo phase at work. This definitely has to change. I need to improve my personal productivity.<br />
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<b>Sewing:</b> nothing. I am considering doing the alterations to my dira (sp) myself.<br />
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<b>Wishing:</b> as humans we weren't such sods who caused climate change and have definitely sentenced ourselves to a short, brutal life.<br />
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<b>Enjoying:</b> mango salsa for as long as the mango season lasts.<br />
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<b>Waiting</b>: for the sun to set anytime I need to go anywhere. Really, this weather has made me a night-walker.<br />
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<b>Liking</b>: many politically conscious posts on twitter. I don't imagine there is much logic behind the political scene, and the older I get the more politics stops to be amusing and becomes scary, but I still think knowledge is important.<br />
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<b>Wondering:</b> what the next year holds in store; with all the changes that I can foresee.<br />
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<b>Loving:</b> very many people, despite not saying it enough.<br />
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<b>Hoping:</b> my next house hunting episode in approx 2 months won't be as unfruitful as the previous one.<br />
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<b>Marveling:</b> at how God has been full of grace in my life. Some of the most significant things in my life have been as a result of "accidental" encounters that could only have been arranged by God.<br />
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<b>Needing:</b> new pots and knives.<br />
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<b>Smelling:</b> nothing, with this flu!<br />
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<b>Wearing:</b> a flowery sundress that my mum bought me years back. Climate change may suck but we can still play the part while at it.<br />
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<b>Following</b>: recommendations from a handful of people on Pocket and I want to add more.<br />
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<b>Noticing:</b> how my appetite has improved since the <strike>exorcism</strike> deworming.<br />
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<b>Knowing:</b> an uncomfortable lot about the business of health in Kenya, that only makes the current doctors' strike harsher.<br />
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<b>Thinking:</b> that a 'taking stock' post is not as easy at it seems.<br />
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<b>Feeling:</b> excited to meet the people I'll be working with later today.<br />
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<b>Bookmarking</b>: book recommendations. From Obama to Thought Catalogue. I think I will read some non-fiction this year. First on my list is Trevor Noah's Born a Crime<br />
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<b>Opening:</b> windows in every PSV because we need to let some air in! I'd highly recommend it. Sharing the flu is not sexy.<br />
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<b><strike>Giggling</strike> Being amused: </b>at seeing those masks that muggers wear (the ones with holes for the eyes and mouth) on sale at the flyover on Kahawa Wendani. I suppose thugs have to buy them from somewhere.<br />
<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-24038143555048018472016-12-05T02:13:00.000-08:002016-12-05T02:13:37.189-08:00Will society allow the bleeding heart entrepreneur to do their job?<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This essay was originally written for the Peter Drucker Challenge 2016. Current events such as the closure of Bridge Academies in Uganda and an increasing threat of closure in Kenya have prompted me to post this. I have been wondering whether 'the powers that be' are ambivalent about social ventures until the point where they disrupt the status quo; then hell hath no fury like a cartel boss scorned...</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Entrepreneurship is the new cool. It is a word that inspires thoughts of celebrity-like status when one considers āunicornsā such as Facebook, Uber and WeWork that have disrupted traditional business models in communication, transport and real estate. This high profile status of entrepreneurship is not only limited to developed nations. The power of entrepreneurship to be a disruptor in recent times is clear in sub-Saharan Africa, and Kenya in particular. Riding high on the āAfrica Risingā narrative, Kenya is continuously making its mark in the world as a regional hub of innovation and entrepreneurship. When one hears āKenyaā and āinnovationā in one breath, one cannot help but think of M-pesa</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and the way necessity has bred innovation. M-pesa is not a one-off blip in the Kenyan entrepreneurial landscape. Entrepreneurship is maturing and beginning to attract recognition. While early ventures were supported largely by grants; a surge in venture capitalist funding has seen Kenya ranked the 3</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 8.799999999999999px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">rd</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> investment destination; receiving USD 47.4m in funding for startups in 2015</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, beyond the glamour of the technological innovations are a different brand of entrepreneurs who are committed to the less sexy work of addressing social problems such as inequality in education opportunities, inaccessibility of healthcare, and youth unemployment, among others. These social entrepreneurs rarely make a large splash in the media but they have been deftly filling the gaps left by the public sector. They have gradually risen to a point where they are now attracting attention; and with it, raising questions on the appropriateness of for-profit ventures in providing basic social services. One school of thought argues that for-profit initiatives can only be exploitative. Another camp feels that these businesses are playing important roles that governments have neglected. They are bred, after all, from necessity. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There isnāt a lack of necessity in Kenya. In stark contrast with the rise of the āSilicon Savannahā are the social problems that plague Kenya. Despite having some of the highest school enrollment rates</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in Africa, the education sector is mired with quality concerns, that have fanned other social problems such as poverty and unemployment. For instance, among unemployed youth, 90% lack relevant vocational skills and are therefore unemployable</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In the health sector, while strides have been made to curb communicable diseases such as HIV/AIDS, malaria and TB, Kenyans are facing the ticking time bomb that is non-communicable diseases (NCDs). Currently, NCDs account for 26% of the mortality; and this is expected to increase to 36% by 2030</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. This picture of fundamental social and economic problems, and a growing entrepreneurial spirit; suggests great opportunity for entrepreneurs to make a difference. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Social entrepreneurship could well be a lifeline. Social impact initiatives that have previously been donor funded face a sustainability quagmire with the declining state of donor funding. Official Donor Aid (ODA) has stagnated at 0.3% of Gross National Income (GNI) between 2012 and 2014</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. ODA is expected to decline in the long term with 2/3 of the countries in Sub Saharan Africa expected to receive 4% less aid in 2017 than they did in 2014. Developed nations are faced with greater domestic problems since the 2008 Economic Crisis and have less to spare. It does not help that previous lack of transparency and corruption has made most donors wary of supporting state-run programs. For instance, USD 46 million shillings set aside for the Free Primary Education program in Kenya went missing, prompting several donors such as the UKās DFID to withdraw funds</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Increasingly funders are looking for new ways to achieve impact. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Entrepreneurs have been quick to fill the gap left by the public and NGO sector. For instance, Bridge International Academies have grown into the largest private primary school chain in Africa with 400+ schools primarily aimed at bridging the access gap in the educational sector. Jacaranda Health</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has, on a lower scale, moved to fill the gap in providing access to pre-natal, obstetric and post-natal care. The significance of this is clear when viewed in the context that in Kenya, maternal mortality stands at 488 per 100,000 live births, compared to an average of 239 in developing nations. Another social enterprise has found a way to provide sanitary toilets and economic opportunities for the urban poor. Social entrepreneurship is also evident in the energy sector, access to financing, and agriculture. With its rising significance, there has been a rise in support for social entrepreneurs by impact focused accelerators and hubs, impact focused investment funds and management consultants who specialize in developing best practice for social enterprises.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So far, it seems clear that entrepreneurship can not only address social needs, but is already doing a good job at it. However, a more imperative question seems to be āWill society allow entrepreneurs to address social needs?ā The experience of Bridge International Academies would make an interesting study on the role of for-profit entrepreneurial ventures that want to tackle social problems. Born out of the idea that pro-poor solutions require scale to be sustainable, Bridge has set up 400 nursery and primary schools across Africa. The backing of high profile investors like the IFC, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and CDC, among others, is a rubber stamp of approval</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. However, particularly in Kenya, Bridge has faced numerous hurdles. In 2015, the Ministry of Education chose to implement āinformal schoolsā guidelines that had been outlined in 2009 but had not been enforced hence. A key requirement in the guidelines was that 30% of teachers in an informal school were required to be formally trained. This poses serious challenges to Bridges low-cost model that is driven in part by hiring untrained teachers and giving them on-the-job training. Trained teachers are expected to require higher pay than the USD 120 monthly salary currently paid to Bridgeās tutors. Taking a cue from the ministry, teachersā unions and NGOs have called for the closure of the schools over quality concerns, despite the fact that they serve over 100,000 slum dwelling children. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The IFC and other development agencies have been criticized for investing in for-profit ventures rather than funding state run programs not only in education but also in health. While some of the criticism is justified</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, continuously pumping money in corrupt state run programs or unsustainable donor funded initiatives seems highly unwise; especially when entrepreneurial ventures like Bridge achieve more impact, with fewer resources.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ory Okolloh, co-founder of Ushahidi and Uzalendo, activist and Director of Investments at Omidyar Network is as close to an expert on entrepreneurship in Kenya as you can get. Speaking on the issue of entrepreneurship having to take on social needs that the government ought to take care of during a Quartz Afruca Forum, she succinctly summarized that: āWe canāt entrepreneur ourselves around everything.ā She elaborated on the fact that in developed nations; public schools, hospitals and power companies work seamlessly. Why then is it that Africans are expected and encouraged to maneuver around getting basic services through creative innovation? Her conclusion was that entrepreneurship on its own is not enough. Innovators and entrepreneurs need to do the additional (and less glamorous) work of guiding the government so as to influence public policy. Using learnings from the field, they can inform government decisions and work towards a public sector that works.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My take on this is that entrepreneurship </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">should not have to</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> provide basic social services that are universal rights. It is unfortunate that a child in an urban slum has to learn by rote because he/she cannot access teachers who are qualified to teach creatively. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the child is getting better quality education that what the government can provide. This is proven not only by data-based evaluations, but by the fact that poor families living on less than USD 2 a day are willing to set aside USD 6 a month to pay for tuition at a private school. </span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-210de42b-ce73-50fb-503c-ee102b517cbb"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, this is the reality. When the choice is rote learning or no education at all, suddenly it becomes an easier choice to make. Entrepreneurship can address social needs but it is unlikely to do so as effectively as a well-run public sector in a developed nation. However, before the public sector in Kenya ever plays catch-up, entrepreneurship will continue to play a vital role. In fact, there may be a silver lining beneath this. Africa is renowned for leapfrogging technologies, and jumping from crawling all the way to running. The innovative solutions that African entrepreneurs come up with may serve populations more effectively than anything that the government can come up with. The unique challenges in service delivery call for agility, and entrepreneurs are anything if not agile. </span></div>
Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-40584015910702052622016-11-24T03:42:00.001-08:002016-11-24T03:47:16.888-08:009 reasons why the Standard Gauge Railway should be built AROUND and not THROUGH the Nairobi National Park<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">To the Director General NEMA,</span><br />
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9 reasons why the SGR should be built around and not through the national park:</div>
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<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Elephants have long memories and big hearts</b>. Do you really want to make their lives hell? (Also, have you watched Jungle Book? That should move you enough to be an animal conservationist)</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Trains are very loud and disruptive</b>. Can you imagine the railway being built THROUGH your cattle pen?</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Animals aren't the best at reading signs</b>, e.g., a railway crossing sign?</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Lions look great</b> and I'd prefer them not to all die.</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Warthogs are kind of cool too</b> and seem pretty shy. I'm pretty sure that the noise will make them uneasy.</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Man eating lions of Tsavo</b>. This is a bit of a stretch, but isn't it dangerous for humans to build a railway while surrounded by wild animals? Case in point, history.</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;">We constantly <b>build roads AROUND some rich people's houses</b> so as not to offend them. Tourism makes a tonne of money, making the national park a rich person's home.</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>Trespassing is illegal.</b> Any person caught doing so can be mauled.</li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><b>People WILL feed the animals.</b></li>
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Please reconsider.</div>
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Yours truly,<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFfTCIkTcORU4qCnf6uOfHCdafAHSoxEQcmrTj3qoS8w0FzAyhqe5YkjSIsZTqfZfcFAFZusFu1CEkcF5QDUAAUfEdyj067CxRkvZjcEaifyrRpDpZZgylX8Hl3ZYqeKmth7Dxwm6WSw/s1600/1102811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFfTCIkTcORU4qCnf6uOfHCdafAHSoxEQcmrTj3qoS8w0FzAyhqe5YkjSIsZTqfZfcFAFZusFu1CEkcF5QDUAAUfEdyj067CxRkvZjcEaifyrRpDpZZgylX8Hl3ZYqeKmth7Dxwm6WSw/s320/1102811.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I can see people petting / feeding the animals. Source: The Star</span></td></tr>
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PS: Some reasons may not be strictly factual. For instance, I am not sure if there are elephants at the park. I'm pretty certain about the lions and warthogs, though!<br />
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Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-89207107535769827952016-08-04T07:03:00.000-07:002016-08-04T07:03:18.521-07:00Guest Post: Of Finding Purpose and Living a Little<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I am terrible, I know. So terrible that I cannot even take time to publish a guest post. Trust me, I appreciate the irony of taking a break from life to publish a post about, well, life! <a href="https://www.facebook.com/socrates.e.jay?fref=ts">Luseka Socrates</a> took some time to muse about life, especially the rollercoaster that is post-school life. Enjoy! And if this is your cup of tea, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tIk4IOOeco">check this out.</a> </i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQVCexAOJ9xW4dxoAyYwCiY_fZLzxHf03suFc0yNKg46lbAVH2dwbP94_X1LBNWhXMh74HSl-cpAY38RfWOSD5FP58zXC2Zt9yZZhcjj17DBtW4fF7CDKfGY4sLmXuOX2avLQl0AINbQ/s1600/This-Is-Water-David-Foster-Wallace-Speech.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQVCexAOJ9xW4dxoAyYwCiY_fZLzxHf03suFc0yNKg46lbAVH2dwbP94_X1LBNWhXMh74HSl-cpAY38RfWOSD5FP58zXC2Zt9yZZhcjj17DBtW4fF7CDKfGY4sLmXuOX2avLQl0AINbQ/s320/This-Is-Water-David-Foster-Wallace-Speech.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adulting is largely about being aware of what matters.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">People watching is one of those dreary child habits Iāve been meaning to quit to no avail. Ok. Save me the pity and just laugh at what Iām going to share. Itās never that serious. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last week, in my evening moments as I was mooching around āThe Hubā āthis new mall in Karen- with the intent to go buy bread at Carrefour, I found myself pausing occasionally ,lingering and straying my eyes to peopleās heads (sounds weird right?), sometimes vexing them , nitpicking at their walking styles (thatās more weird) and scoffing at those pairs that rubbed PDA into peopleās faces . To the latter, some mushy career ladies who passed near me had it all flowing through their heartstrings going by the number of āaaawwsā that left their mouths. Such betrayal. I thought we all hate PDA? We all should. Ok. Maybe I am just a condescending sadist. Just ignore me and read on. To lighten the mood, I found solace in watching the aged. Some little distraction you know. Could be the uncalled-for lessons that come with their subconscious actions, case in point: their calculated steps which can teach you something about patience. Or their wrinkles that bear stories, grand or sad. I felt a tad encouraged. But that was only for a fleeting juncture before fear set in. Turns out that getting old was the origin of my sudden fears. Bummer! I donāt want to get old dear reader.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so it got me thinking and reflecting. Looking at those old-guards ( wait, the word sounds rude, right?) and turning back the clock. How life had been to them and what it had in store for us young-turks (I hope Iām not sounding like an old politician by the use of that word, they use it a lot). I imagined their life. Old age. A quiet house now that children are married and living on their own. I pictured the 80ās and 70ās when they were dancing to āthe Beetlesā or āYvonne Chakachakaā. When they were feeding their kids and gently tending to their farms or working their asses through Jomoās economy with some admirable levels of energy. Did they imagine that one day fate will quiet their joy and turn them into frail creatures and all? And so my justification. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought about myself too. Life in nursery school, primary , high school , campus- the whole shebang! And now inching towards old age and marriage in between. As I mulled at these flinching thoughts, I saw some giddy Somali kids enjoying the elevator rides, and then shifted my gaze to meet high school boys lost in banter while some girls who looked like campus young-uns gossiped and chuckled at some distance. To the carried away career ladies. With the āhalf-a dayā imagery conjuring up ( cue the high school set book- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Half a day & other stories</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) , the happenings presented the right paradox. My life unfolding in one day . Wait, in seconds. If you cleverly read along those lines you can strike a guess at what stage of life I am at. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Towards the end of May this year I completed my undergraduate and eased into another life. To say I never had the chills or sweaty palms as this transition happened is an understatement. The feeling was bittersweet. The sweetness reveled in the fact that school was finally over. But all these happy moments were overshadowed by a cloud of despair that came with the futureās uncertainties and the cut of fun and adventures that only a previous life could offer . For guys, the pressure to leave their family homes and get their own houses was mounting. I was caught in a similar vortex. No parent could chase you out but present circumstances, timing and age were pressing enough to get you moving. I decided to move in with a friend and later found my own place. Iām slowly adjusting to the thrills and challenges that seem to surface each waking day. Bills are a different story. The thought of budgets and acting all grown up is a tad disconcerting- but a man has to man up. Ladies too.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Donāt get me started on friends. But I will. With the pursuit of career advancement, many succumbed to busyness. The plots started dying. While some of us moved houses, others moved cities. They spread yonder (Iāve been meaning to use that word. Yāall should know I read Victorian novels!). Suffice it to say, the vast company of friends that campus offered are no longer in tow. Majority moved on. Sadly, they had to. Jobs happened. Some married or got married. Distance came in between and silence took over. Facebook and other social media have tried to keep us close, thank God, but then their services can never match the effectiveness that physical presence brings. High school filled our lives with funkies, primary school had its fair share of cool and campus crowned it. Think the movie plots. Fries plots. The hikes. The group discussions. The dating dramas. Mass stone throwing, for some (fellow UoN comrades!haha). And now all of these have ebbed away and rolled into a ball of memories. That feels sad. (Someone play me a violin. Get me Elaniās music before Iām numbed by this arresting sadness. Will you?)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When you prod into your peers lives , stories are varied. Some are driving. Others are outside the country. For some, things have not fallen in place as they had planned it out. The job search is quite an outlandish nightmare. Confusion is reigning supreme as a number of former classmates keep waxing lyrical on how they seem not to have it together. The lucky and wise ones are reaping. Those whose parents are Kahunas in the corporate world and the civil service are having it easy finding placements. But in everything, in between despair and gloom, remains hope because this is just a season thing. Some phase where majority are bound to pass, rolled up with its form of sham and drudgery ,glum and lucklustre , tears and bruises, but with a grand story to tell at the end of it all.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the flipside, Iām slowly appreciating the ensuing challenges and learning to take life with a pinch of salt. Iām manning up. Toughening. Iām making friends, reading books and making the most of my youth the best way possible. Soccer with the boys on Sundays and hung outs with āthe girlfriendā crowns the weekends. Dancing alone to music in my house is another addiction I have picked on lately. Donāt laugh. It is called living a little and brings with it hustle-free satisfaction. And wait, if you find it a health hazard eating roasted maize (with chilli) at the roadside or checking in on your guyā Njoroā for the ā20ā shilling </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mtura </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">on your way home, then Iām sorry for you. You havenāt lived life ( said with tongue in cheek!). </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Come on, amid everything letās learn to enjoy life. Do we have to tighten it?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">End.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Side note.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">PDA- Public Display of Affection.</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-06f5b49e-55cd-0ead-e685-76960ba72e78"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mtura (For the sake of barbies who read Ivyās blog)-</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It i</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">s a mixture of cow's meat stashed inside the intestine of a cow or goat and roasted mainly by the roadside usually in the evenings.</span></span>Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-7670840722522118462016-06-13T23:06:00.000-07:002016-06-13T23:06:51.091-07:00Waiting in Coffee Shops: The Art of DeductionAnyone who knows me know how impatient I am. I simply cannot stand lateness... Yet, some of the most important people in my life have a slow internal clock. The fact that I still talk to them is evidence of my goodness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsB1pRlkOMhmXy7ogtNV7AMjaKr849kPEeoocXjU06DIg228NDQjOYTjCAU1b1mXwymrLEcQrW5FhXT86dFCYqEeE8raSvUrojFDdIWROxCNDN4sbmmvcsSUqM7I5sHBjYNxyXAvW8j8/s1600/Waiting+at+coffee+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsB1pRlkOMhmXy7ogtNV7AMjaKr849kPEeoocXjU06DIg228NDQjOYTjCAU1b1mXwymrLEcQrW5FhXT86dFCYqEeE8raSvUrojFDdIWROxCNDN4sbmmvcsSUqM7I5sHBjYNxyXAvW8j8/s1600/Waiting+at+coffee+shop.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image source: Pinterest</td></tr>
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Last Friday I was impatently waiting for someone at the Java in TRM. On an aside, has anyone noticed how Javas in the CBD and all these malls frequented by the emerging consumer* have comparable service to Olive Green and those other crowded restaurants along Tom Mboya? I mean, serviettes are a luxury. You'll be lucky if your coffee doesn't splash on you when they dump it on your table!<br />
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I am digressing. Coffee houses will be a post for another day. Anyway, I was reading an okay book and waiting for someone to think of asking if I wanted a coffee refill. In true Java fashion, the waiter led this couple to my table. Regardless of the fact that a book is the global 'Do Not Disturb' sign that even a moron ought to understand. I was more than miffed and would have pouted petulantly and dug deeper into my book had curiousity not gotten the better of me.<br />
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What caught my eye was the girl's hair. She had one of those weaves with bangs, so well done that I had to stop myself from asking where she got it done. Now that I was already distracted, I had no option but to eavesdrop on the conversation. The man she was with must have been at least 50 and dressed in those Kaunda suits. On another aside, why do people dress so ridiculously on dress down Friday? Casual wear should be easy! <span id="goog_1305396777"></span><span id="goog_1305396778"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><br />
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Looking at the couple, there were a number of possibilities: this could be a dad and his daughter; this could be a random relative taking his random younger relative out for coffee; this could be a boss and employee (yes, young girls can hire elderly men as drivers); or this could your <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.co.ke/2016/01/the-male-sponsor-vs-investor.html">male spomsor / investor</a> and his beneficiary. I simply had to solve this mystery!<br />
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I have carefully curated the conversation for you to help me solve this:<br />
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***</div>
<i>50 y/o Kaunda wearer: </i>So, where do you live?<br />
<i>PYT with the good hair: </i>Kahawa Wendani<br />
<i>50 y/o Kaunda wearer: (shudders) </i>Gosh, that is a whole other world. The wide, wild west.<br />
<i>PYT with the good hair: </i>Yeah. I'd like to move.<br />
<i>50 y/o Kaunda wearer: </i>What do you want?<br />
<i>PYT with the good hair: </i>A government job. You work short hours and make lots of money. I also want to move to Mombasa Road.<br />
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<i>(At this point I want to mention that I was quite mind-blown. I always thought that the typical sponsor-beneficiary relationship followed certain societal norms, such as beating around the bush. Turns out it is full blown capitalism here!)</i></div>
<i>50 y/o Kaunda wearer: </i>Yes we can get you a new job.<br />
<i>PYT with the good hair: (smiles coyly)</i><br />
<i>50 y/o Kaunda wearer: (picks ringing phone) </i>Hello. <i>Nani ameshikwa?</i> Give me the name of the police officer. Tell him if he still wants his job tomorrow <i>anipigie simu.</i><br />
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***</div>
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At this point my date showed up and I moved to another table. My final conclusion is that my 50 y/o Kaunda wearer is part of the suave group of powerful men who work the puppet strings. He can hand around government jobs, hire and fire policemen! Infact, I think he may be Bruce Wayne himself!</div>
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As for PYT with the good hair, she may be Robin for all I know! I wish I had asked for her hair dresser's contacts.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*emerging consumer: how fancy multilaterals refer to the middle classs that has just now arrived, as opposed to those ones who have always been here.</span>Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-5218738704902153412016-03-15T22:40:00.000-07:002016-03-15T22:44:50.540-07:0023: Finally a Second Former at this Adulting Thing<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">This year (now last year) has been a year
of my firsts... One of them being the fact that I did not do a Birthday
blogpost. My life has been simply chaotic lately. I am moving back to Nairobi. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "wingdings"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "wingdings"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span><span lang="EN-GB"> There really needs to be a better bittersweet emoji. The fact that
it almost coincides with turning 23 means that the line between before and
after is much more clearly demarcated here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">So, 22 was fun! I got my first real job,
moved into a new city, really āgrew into myselfāā¦ whatever that means. In
hindsight, even when things were tough, I wouldnāt take back any part of it.
The biggest, resounding learning that I have had in the past year was ādreams
changeā. Fresh out of school I had a very idealistic, pretty-much-set-in-stone
idea of how my life should work out. I was going to intern at a couple of fancy
places, get a fancy management trainee position at one of the big four firms,
sit some professional paper or other, get a cute apartment and spend my
evenings sipping girly cocktails at fancy bars in Westlands. (Mr and Ms
Deloitte and Touche of the world, please donāt burst my bubble about my
perception of your lives!) Anything outside a 95% confidence interval of that
life was not even a consideration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Instead, I went to Kampala to work for a
start-up accelerator with the unconventional name of Unreasonable East Africa.
I am not proud to say this but I do a lot of things out of the necessity of the
moment: getting a passport; learning how to drive; and making new friends. I
had not needed to make new friends in about four years. I had grown rusty at a
skill that I did not even fully possess to start with. Now, with a new job and
in a new city, I had to build a whole social life. I wish I could say that I ventured
into a journey of self-discovery and had exotic experiences. I didnāt. Unless
you count trying new foods as an exotic experience. However, I grew up. Fast. I
became self-reliant and self-confident. Again, necessity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPrJj1RERBXPVKEbZ25O2HDJeAMqUsGcN1ChyphenhyphenRaHDkRHS3La43iUWZIqaWziakXh_V4aRaltoTKonn1AP4AQis1c7J-HfjmT3z9XbCVwWDa_wCpgvICocZLCfR2YsXeFrOiyxNnkVTLY/s1600/IMG_20160310_082042%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPrJj1RERBXPVKEbZ25O2HDJeAMqUsGcN1ChyphenhyphenRaHDkRHS3La43iUWZIqaWziakXh_V4aRaltoTKonn1AP4AQis1c7J-HfjmT3z9XbCVwWDa_wCpgvICocZLCfR2YsXeFrOiyxNnkVTLY/s200/IMG_20160310_082042%255B1%255D.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random selfie of my shabby self walking to work.<br />
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I made 5 or so new friends. I know this because I am in the middle of organising a belated birthday / Goodbye Kampala dinner party. That (the 5 friends) is impressive, for me.<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">23 will be a great year. It had better be.
I went through most of the challenges and transitions that a fresh out of
school 23 year old ought to go through at 22. Now I think I am getting the hang
of this adulating thing. 22 was like being a form 1 in the adult life. A lot of
meekness and confusion. 23 is the rowdy form 2 who thinks she knows it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">However, as Ugandans love to say, <b>āI will
be okayā</b>. To paraphrase <a href="http://www.cs.columbia.edu/~gongsu/desiderata_textonly.html">Desiderata</a>:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px; line-height: 19.26px;">I</span> am a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;<br />
I have a right to be here.<br />
And whether or not it is clear to me, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.</div>
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Oh, if you want to join me on this nostalgic Kumbaya mood, you can read about <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2015/04/kampala-of-taking-risks-and-killing-two.html">my first, filled with wide eyed wonder impression of Kampala</a>; my <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2015/05/i-want-books-not-stationery.html">frustration when I couldn't find a street bookseller</a> (still haven't); my <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2015/06/it-aint-fun.html">little tantrum when I missed my mummy</a>; my <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2015/06/we-dont-need-other-names.html">near death experience thanks to my English name</a> (thank you colonialism!); <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2015/09/strange-propositions.html">when that weird dude asked to take a selfie</a>; and <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2016/01/chronicles-of-great-beyond-kitenge-pants.html">when the other weird dude wore kitenge pants</a>. Kampala really has been my muse.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjcEcyB5dX4c0nPeaPgs7v0PgBjR2XGg1O0EUiKlC225ktVXIoyD-N8AVgVTF8c1tIAfg4KVsbsQ3L0kXzjaa8HC1kV7VmoNOdY1GJfHRK5tpTbPJ1JOfiqO4op7-U-x2dbZ3sCt4xd4/s1600/IMG_20151220_211025%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjcEcyB5dX4c0nPeaPgs7v0PgBjR2XGg1O0EUiKlC225ktVXIoyD-N8AVgVTF8c1tIAfg4KVsbsQ3L0kXzjaa8HC1kV7VmoNOdY1GJfHRK5tpTbPJ1JOfiqO4op7-U-x2dbZ3sCt4xd4/s320/IMG_20151220_211025%255B1%255D.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite beer. 2 % alcohol yoh!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx1l7HWbJ1BGI9wxcPZYPaoW5alysPW9b5ZZPZd0cJelhJN7uaPSHhUazgh9Je3ib_yQjeVvhgzb06zpjZYEviIkROUIPRR7ZROOG8LtVAzAcg7DLZgmizGnUTzbwuWmJDlb6CUr9gkU/s1600/IMG_20151220_210913%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx1l7HWbJ1BGI9wxcPZYPaoW5alysPW9b5ZZPZd0cJelhJN7uaPSHhUazgh9Je3ib_yQjeVvhgzb06zpjZYEviIkROUIPRR7ZROOG8LtVAzAcg7DLZgmizGnUTzbwuWmJDlb6CUr9gkU/s320/IMG_20151220_210913%255B1%255D.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random blurry picture of a band.</td></tr>
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Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-88626000720280968172016-01-07T23:19:00.000-08:002016-01-07T23:19:01.328-08:00Chronicles of the Great Beyond: Kitenge PantsI will go as far as to say every narcissist's cliche: I generally prefer my own company to that of about 80% of the people I come across. I figured I should open with that line before you fraudulently begin to like me. However, once in a while I venture into the Great Beyond. In Kampala my Great Beyond is a dark, haunted looking bar called Iguana. The lights either do not work or have been intentionally switched off. There never seem to be enough bar stools and you will usually see people perched precariously on the ledge on the rooftop. You do not want to get me started on the floor boards!<br />
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The appearance is nothing to write home about. This is one of those places that you see during the day and shudder. This really is ideal because you can't let yourself be caught out till dawn. Once treacherous sunlight shows you the real state of your surroundings, you will never be back. At this point, it begs the question: why would I, a self confessed narcissistic introvert, go to a place like this? It is definitely not the service, seeing as we usually have to beg the waiters to take our order. Glasses are an unheard of luxury as well.<br />
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Well, I go to Iguana for the people. No, not my band of comrades and drinking buddies (of which I have none). I go for the random people, the outright weirdos who flock there by the dozens. I am that girl sitting at the corner, having a private laugh at it all. I've seen some fun things, but last night topped it.<br />
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It took me a while to realise that a big number of white women revelers love men in dreadlocks. The longer and more rugged, the better. If you can add in a few crude piercings and a jacket made out of animal hide, even better! Last night, however, there was a great deficit of the usual rastamen. My heart was growing weary and I was about to call it a night until a clean shaven guy in the most ridiculous kitenge get up strutted in. For a second I was distracted by yet another short and chubby man skipping by, but fortunately I did not miss my Kitenge clad man's entrance. He swaggered to the centre of the dance floor and pulled out a killer dance move. No, really, he did something with his waist that possibly left it dislocated.<br />
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Once I was sitting at Iguana, minding my merry business and listening to a live band when a group of acrobatic dancers jumped in, twisting and turning and belching out flames. Last night was not one of those nights. My kitenge clad ninja was but a mere mortal. However, he held me in a trance. It is no wonder that moments later, a group of white women flocked around him. I grabbed my phone and shared the great news... and I am sharing it here yet again: Kitenge pants are the ultimate aphrodisiac. All ye men, heed this great news.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYAl2u9pVvsPSu-B0NJ4yF3GCBnghIBmPdCZNQdVcUlbkMDzImCZ4-_d6aWCrI-q0L1hndJagUIGbEOdh6R1t7f_qtt2wOqaImJ3qd5PLyk3KgAi8G2D4KdjA-RODBK5TzviiDQIxwbA/s1600/kitenge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYAl2u9pVvsPSu-B0NJ4yF3GCBnghIBmPdCZNQdVcUlbkMDzImCZ4-_d6aWCrI-q0L1hndJagUIGbEOdh6R1t7f_qtt2wOqaImJ3qd5PLyk3KgAi8G2D4KdjA-RODBK5TzviiDQIxwbA/s320/kitenge.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watch and learn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I have received several messages of gratitude from men from all over the world. I do not mean to presume, but I would not be shocked if the awarded me a Nobel Prize in Human Activity. These, boys and girls, are the perks of being a wall flower.<br />
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Oh, Happy 2016.<br />
<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-49103170428459874682015-12-09T02:45:00.001-08:002015-12-09T02:53:04.192-08:00The Storyteller: A Review of SortsJodi Picoult is <i>one of</i> my favourite writers ever. I am learning how to tame my youthful exuberance and someone I know pointed out to me that if I claim that something is <i>the best thing ever, </i>I can't then go on and give that title to five or so more things. Adulting is difficult! All these rules. I will, therefore, refrain from calling Jodi 'my favourite writer ever' and add the prefix 'one of'.<br />
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From experience, I know how crafty Jodi can get. She will get you to care; to invest your feelings in the characters that she weaves around your heart and soul. You will prefer to have coffee with the suspected pedophile from <a href="http://www.jodipicoult.com/salem-falls.html">Salem Falls</a>, instead of paying attention to your date. You will get out of your Friday night plans by washing your hair when the real reason is that you can't let that sad, little girl in <a href="http://www.jodipicoult.com/leaving-time.html">Leaving Time</a> spend a Friday night alone. <strike>She is all you have</strike> You are all she has! I know Jodi and I have been working on building up my defences. I start reading her books with a sense of detachment and refuse to let myself get swallowed in. Real life is heartbreaking enough! That was until I read <a href="http://www.jodipicoult.com/the-storyteller.html">The Storyteller</a>.<br />
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This book and this story is filled with love. First of, my sister's love. She let me snatch this book from her when she was midway through reading it. I heartlessly spirited away to Kampala with it. Being the beautiful soul she is, she understood that while she is surrounded by family, friends, love and laughter; all I have in this alien land is Jodi.<br />
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Secondly, there is all the baking! Almost every single page of this book talks about delicious breads and pastries. Of all the acts of cooking; baking is the one that expresses love the most. The book tells three stories concurrently: Sage's journey of self discovery and forgiveness; Minka's experiences during the Holocaust; and Ania's fantasy like tale filled with monsters (human and otherwise). While all three are set in different places, times and realms of reality; bread remains a center point in all three.<br />
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Needless to say, I got sucked in. I could not put down this book. It combined the best elements of my love for history and my curiosity for human nature. It raises a lot of moral questions and allows me to fantasize about food when things get too serious. Like all Jodi Picoult books, it is thought provoking and will make you want to take a moment to breath ever so often.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGq4mL5XRbL3AQjEQbRyW_XzyI_2l2ND3prwzhpyHg1dHLCDrTxyt7JXw6tkZ9fgNmq0_3R530cNgAJmX5B3fpw12bh0gDhnX4IQhIniwaYDSM3kGxVV3oOgKg0s1I8KxpzoBwBWs9dZs/s1600/Fiction+Jodi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGq4mL5XRbL3AQjEQbRyW_XzyI_2l2ND3prwzhpyHg1dHLCDrTxyt7JXw6tkZ9fgNmq0_3R530cNgAJmX5B3fpw12bh0gDhnX4IQhIniwaYDSM3kGxVV3oOgKg0s1I8KxpzoBwBWs9dZs/s1600/Fiction+Jodi.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you Jodi, for the gift of great story!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
PS: If you are in Nairobi, you need to check out that book guy outside Diamond Plaza!<br /><br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-86078996785140876702015-11-03T11:45:00.001-08:002015-11-03T11:45:56.443-08:00Slipping Standards (and finally getting to watch Pretty Woman)Recently I surprised a friend of mine with the knowledge that Beyonce is not only married, but now has a daughter (who she named for me... not that you will believe me). It is amazing really, how removed from culture some people can be! I can't judge him too harshly. You see, I just now watched Pretty Woman. And, by Jove (high school English has to be put into some use!), it may just have trumped 'My Sassy Girl' to get the coveted spot as my favorite romantic comedy of all time. <div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXMjJaG8ugYjAqQt4t-dUHEub2ZvXK9SZolwRB8vSJWkqKLBp-naq81KHihwddQPeN2yphn5_okzc2h5pNgdRmOtUFu_Oh8TtZSMysuMqKFc8bNjsL5wIWsGwUw5V6MvnhcpwOaNwwQE/s1600/pretty-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXMjJaG8ugYjAqQt4t-dUHEub2ZvXK9SZolwRB8vSJWkqKLBp-naq81KHihwddQPeN2yphn5_okzc2h5pNgdRmOtUFu_Oh8TtZSMysuMqKFc8bNjsL5wIWsGwUw5V6MvnhcpwOaNwwQE/s320/pretty-woman.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This outfit! Admit it, it gives you ideas for the next Halloween.. </td></tr>
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I have heard the fairy tale, but watching it still blew my mind away. To think that the original script was a cautionary tale on the vagaries of drugs and prostitution. It was written for a film called '3000' that would have ended in Julia Roberts getting kicked to the curb and having money thrown at her. Kind of what would happen in REAL life! Instead romantic comedy came of age then.</div>
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I have maintained that the human race seemed to have hit its peak (artistically) and is now slowly deteriorating. I see it in our music where the IQ of lyrics wouldn't even intrigue a 12 year old. I see it in literature where fewer people are writing books; and those who are have to compete with all this garbage on the internet (for instance, this unnecessary blog). I see it in art that has to compete with memes. Acutely and most recently, I see it in the fact that in 1990 we had the potential to come up with 'Pretty Woman' while in 2015 our idea of romance was 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Yes, rock bottom has a basement... and that basement is 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Something is going seriously wrong!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
However, sometimes my faith is rekindled by stumbling upon beauty in the most unexpected places. For instance, Nayyirah Waheed and her wonderful <a href="https://instagram.com/nayyirah.waheed/">instagram</a> page with some of the most beautiful lines ever written.</div>
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Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-24679418548068298102015-10-28T10:47:00.001-07:002015-10-28T10:47:41.059-07:00Friendship: My Version<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4zomblcH6DaugGgUUSS-Bk5Uw9Ceu-Q6AxifNj1iMYtdQCel2QIWycW2c5WRHRwyA7Qdf1InCacv4WgJ3AXEgA_MG_Pl8H5k7sUWDwBfqY9XXcX4QiCJWqnUXZdavOTOm3G453ap64Q/s1600/wavelength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4zomblcH6DaugGgUUSS-Bk5Uw9Ceu-Q6AxifNj1iMYtdQCel2QIWycW2c5WRHRwyA7Qdf1InCacv4WgJ3AXEgA_MG_Pl8H5k7sUWDwBfqY9XXcX4QiCJWqnUXZdavOTOm3G453ap64Q/s320/wavelength.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those who get my weird... and are on my wavelength.</td></tr>
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I have been asked to stop claiming my social awkwardness. I have been told that I am not a misfit. I have been convinced into embracing this improved version of myself that has evolved into a social animal. After all, I can make people laugh and I have a supposedly charming smile!<br />
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This doesn't sit well with me. Not entirely. You see, now that I cannot blame it on inborn social awkwardness, what can I attribute some of my quirks to? I am a paradox socially. I can talk for hours but still remain withdrawn. I can love you deeply and not be there for you when you need it the most. I am a great texter (amazing content and good grammar) while managing to be a terrible communicator. I will braid you hair and share my food but will not take you shopping or be your 'wing woman'. I will vet your significant other and ask them all the hard questions but I will not be friends with them.<br />
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This paradox makes me a great friend. You will be lucky to have me in your life. We will have a lot of laughs and see the world from a cynical, funny perspective. It also makes me a lousy friend. I won't not only miss your birthday (and wedding) but I will not even know what date it is on!<br />
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I have tried to work on these flaws but have found that it simply doesn't work. The harder I try, the more tedious it gets. With time conversations get tedious. I hate it when that happens... when a great friendship gets exhausted and you can't hold a conversation without grunting from all the effort. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will be the friend who will always listen, even to your strangest BS; who will listen to and share great music with you; who will watch strange Indie films with you and dissect them afterwards; who will keep your mind off your problems by talking about her life incessantly; and who will brew you tea and make you an omelette whenever. You will, however, have to find a different friend for the hand holding; the back rubbing and the drunken brawls.<br />
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That said, I have a surprisingly quality portfolio of friends. The best collection of humans anywhere. Here's to them!Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-61559712806781084872015-10-20T05:54:00.002-07:002015-10-20T05:54:52.962-07:00Mashujaa DayAt work we have this thing where every Monday morning we give 'reasons to dance'. Everyone is supposed to share something good that is going on in their life... and being a Monday morning, the most common response is usually, "I had a great weekend."<br />
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This week though, my reason to dance was Mashujaa Day. With only one other Kenyan in the room, this was met with blank stares. I don't consider myself terribly patriotic. Heck, most of the time I do not consciously identify as Kenya. I am Ivy, simple. However, of late I have been increasingly thinking of myself as a Kenyan. This is probably because I have been confronted with my Kenyan-ness. My Kenyan accent, my Kenyan aggressiveness, my (Kenyan?) hairstyle.<br />
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I am proud to belong to this unique country, whose strong population finds a way to survive despite everything. I know that there is a lot to be ashamed of: a government that has miraculously managed to undo years of economic development; blatant corruption; complete disregard for the future of young people; and widespread, highly accepted ignorance. However, there is still a lot to say for the people who remain on a mission to civilize.<br />
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I cannot lose hope in this country. I need only think of my mother, who teaches students who have had such a poor educational background that finding that one C student is a miracle... but she still gives them her all. I think of the dozens of people who I have met in the past few months who are solving some of society's largest problems by starting businesses... who are <i>entrepreneuring </i>their way around inadequate access to virtually everything: healthcare, energy, education, information, transport, employment. I think of the brilliant young men and women I recently completed school with who will go on to do great things. I think of a Central Bank Governor who does not see the correlation between his post and living in a huge mansion in Muthaiga. Who knows that having a fleet of cars at his disposal has no relation to taming the depreciating currency.<br />
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'Shujaa' is a big word. It suggests grand feats, a mask, a batmobile, and a shitload of money. Heroes are important, as are their courageous acts. However, the people doing the little things, day in, day out are important as well. They are the ones that inspire the heroes... and they are the ones that make me believe that Kenya will be okay. We will get through credit crunches, Ksh. 40000 soaps and Kshs. 100,000 wheelbarrows. The devil is a liar, after all.<br />
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#TeamCourageIvy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-76867325585682616402015-10-05T11:07:00.001-07:002015-10-05T11:07:54.768-07:00New Beginnings: Kyle 2.0 I feel, and have always felt so-so about online dating. It could very easily go either way. I know we millennials, with our 5 minute noodles and instant coffee, are supposed to prefer the convenient world of online dating but surprisingly, I do not. It may have something to do with my old soul. I still think that The One is more often than not met at a party, in a coffee shop or a cute little bookstore. <br />
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My problem with online dating is that the person, more often that not, will not look like their pictures. While they may be still be funny in person, their voice won't be that deep, husky baritone that you hear in your mind when you read their messages. They will definitely be shorter than you expect! Better the devil you <strike>know</strike> can see . Once in while, however, I am proved wrong.<br />
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Of late I have been feeling the need to move on from <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.ug/2013/02/losing-nigel.html">Kyle.</a> It's been a great 5 years but I am learning how to let go. We've been through a lot, Kyle and I. He's stuck around longer than my boyfriends, got me through many a lonely night... and kept my secrets. However, I had outgrown him. I had pushed him to his limit and he had nothing left to give. <br />
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After 5 years, I hardly knew how to get back into the game. I mean, I had a criteria list and all but where could I find Kyle 2.0 who matched these and more? Physically going out there to search was beyond me. II had neither the time, nor the heart for it... so I resorted to the good ol' world-wide web. At first the options were endless! Slim, sleek, sexy are all understatements. Unfortunately, most were out of my league. This was proving to be almost as heart breaking as getting out there. Except in this case my disappointment was more private.<br />
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Eventually I found something I could live with. Sturdy, reliable but still easy on the eyes. Something I could see beside me even 5 years down the line. Something that even Kyle would approve of and give his blessing. I found my Acer- Aspire E5-571-563B and he is even more impressive in person! I have been fantasizing about that 6GB RAM and ITB of hard disk space after having to live with Kyle's 2GB and 320GB respectively. Oh, the fun we will have together!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MoYY_kdSHoK0apdNjpxcDN4AiSGzzoCE7wQurgg6yZRcGOnic_NX0lBE1zwZJ_D5lAbgr-IWx2DbvaD7V4bGdWRTzWAFte1TMAjak7nRMC4EGB37rrf9KGOSy7FtUFMemMycYLz9C4w/s1600/E5-571_E5-531_E5-551_E5-521_E5-511_nontouch_black_glare-zoom-big.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MoYY_kdSHoK0apdNjpxcDN4AiSGzzoCE7wQurgg6yZRcGOnic_NX0lBE1zwZJ_D5lAbgr-IWx2DbvaD7V4bGdWRTzWAFte1TMAjak7nRMC4EGB37rrf9KGOSy7FtUFMemMycYLz9C4w/s200/E5-571_E5-531_E5-551_E5-521_E5-511_nontouch_black_glare-zoom-big.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There he is!<br />
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I haven't named him yet. We are taking things slow... feeling each other out. I have a good feeling about this, though. About Kyle, I put him in the hands of a loving owner... who may have cracked his screen once in the past and ruined his battery... but a loving owner all the same. I also left him with my favorite SpongeBob sticker as a memento.<br />
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<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-88434852648198677302015-09-04T05:17:00.000-07:002015-09-04T05:17:03.975-07:00Strange PropositionsCan I begin by sharing the minor discovery that everyone celebrating their birthday around this time was conceived on New Year's Eve? Let that sink in. These Virgos... Happy Birthday to my beautiful best friend, on that note.<br />
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My roommate and I discovered this cute little coffee shop near where we work. I love cute, little coffee shops. Those and book stores would be the ideal place to meet The One. There about 10 or so tables, the Mocha is amazing and cheaper than most other places, and the barista/waiter/owner does not hover. Because we are young and poor, we have to walk along this deserted road to get there. Our youth and poverty has been the reason behind some fun adventures.<br />
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The first time we walked there, we ran into two men in a black Range, packed outside a house with an ominous, black gate. One of them called out to us to stop and come closer. At this point I had been in Kampala for about 2 months and was beginning to let my guard down. Assuming that they were lost, I walked back to help. Man 1 introduced himself and I noticed what was quite possibly a West African accent. He asked us to greet Man 2 who was sitting in the back seat. Man 2 had long, untidy dreadlocks. My kidnapper alert was now hyperactive. While I surveyed the area for possible escape routes and tried to calculate how fast I could possibly run up the hill to get away (I am not much of a runner but Man 1 was really chubby and I figured I could outrun him. Man 2, on the other hand, could have been a Kemboi for all I knew), Man 1 asked if my roommate and I could take a selfie with him. For a brief moment I wondered if 'selfie' was code for 'I would now like to bundle you into the boot of this car'. When he didn't make any attempt to get out of the car, I then concluded that 'selfie' meant just that, in this context. I politely declined and we walked off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HMlgWEdIiqCu_LMc9SY6yvgCjzGE3GJZklyyr2AYnVCUaneKxdKqzmRJZleuEYTA_O25rxyj8fn8CRGM2o6Vyl1yN3rLOVzRuF-GdjfTMMzkky3CwPbDlKVB130rg46GJUqe09BKAZs/s1600/weirdness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HMlgWEdIiqCu_LMc9SY6yvgCjzGE3GJZklyyr2AYnVCUaneKxdKqzmRJZleuEYTA_O25rxyj8fn8CRGM2o6Vyl1yN3rLOVzRuF-GdjfTMMzkky3CwPbDlKVB130rg46GJUqe09BKAZs/s320/weirdness.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calling me a freak magnet is an understatement</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Our most recent adventure was not as harmless as the one described above. Yesterday, just as we were walking past the infamous black gate and reminiscing, a man on a bodaboda circled us twice. After all this time in Kampala I have grown familiar with boda drivers propositioning me. I barely register their presence. We tried to walk around him before he said something in Luganda and tried to grab my roommate's purse. Being the Kenyan she is, she had been holding onto it tightly and he was unsuccessful. We tried to get away. In a moment like that, I naturally freeze while normal people scan the area for possible weapons. Fortunately, we did not need to fight our way out because our terrible purse snatcher seemed to rethink his ways. He rode off, leaving a lasting image of the green, plastic bag tied around the carrier of his bike. <br />
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The world seems to be telling poor, young me that I need to buy a car to drive to lunch! I am also grateful that my run ins with criminals have been limited to the slow witted, cowardly criminals.<br />
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<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-62635786906493307932015-07-28T07:25:00.001-07:002015-07-28T07:25:51.476-07:00Random Thoughts: Of Crushes and Stalker-ish BehaviourI feel as if it has been a while since I shared completely random thoughts here! My past few posts have been too cool and collected. In case you were wondering, I have still been having random thoughts! I dashed into Nairobi two days ago... just in time to catch a bit of Obama fever. I am still on the road to recovery. Man, that man can speak! I passed by my favourite bookseller and didn't stop to buy anything. It took a tremendous amount of will power and I am still shivering from the withdrawal symptoms.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaR2JfyR2IKiqaQlhr2hktf6_Br2VcBEHE462d40XJrimw_-vy7Sd9brgDiZxZHg2DbZZEQCy71tSsIgqEKHuxRKYCFxfAUmieEyd3HAG3WUcmMIWRZIhjIDdVd9NcHRRjzH2eNPVILQ/s1600/random+thoughts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaR2JfyR2IKiqaQlhr2hktf6_Br2VcBEHE462d40XJrimw_-vy7Sd9brgDiZxZHg2DbZZEQCy71tSsIgqEKHuxRKYCFxfAUmieEyd3HAG3WUcmMIWRZIhjIDdVd9NcHRRjzH2eNPVILQ/s1600/random+thoughts.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd like to think I haven't gotten this bad though!</td></tr>
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Speaking of willpower, do y'all remember <a href="http://ifehenia.blogspot.com.tr/2013/09/crush-crush-crush.html">this</a> post on my borderline psychotic behaviour when I have a crush on someone? Well, two years later I am no better. If anything I have refined my stalker game and can now get the full 411 in 12 hours and be over the unlucky guy in 24. *Sigh* I am growing too old for this!<br />
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I once vulnerably (and stupidly!) shared, over dinner, how I have a crush on a certain tall, dark, handsome blogger and can more or less track him down to his apartment block, thanks to his stark blog posts. A few days later, I noticed an exceptionally high private: public ratio of instagram users. People really need to chill! I mean, I COULD track you to your apartment but that doesn't mean that I WILL. I am a Pisces... I am so indecisive that you would probably have moved out by the time I got around to it.<br />
<br />
When I haven't been prowling the dark regions of the net for information I have been losing my mind over the fact that I have to study for a major exam. I have also been trying not to think about the fact that the Unreasonable East Africa Institute ends in a week. I will miss all these guys. In case you are wondering what all the hullabaloo is all about, come see them at <a href="http://unreasonableeastafrica.org/thelaunchpad/">The Launchpad</a>.Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-15765652130412096922015-07-14T13:16:00.000-07:002015-07-14T13:16:31.388-07:00An Unreasonable Invitation: the Launchpad 2015<div>
If you love TED talks, you would love the <a href="http://unreasonableeastafrica.org/thelaunchpad/">Launchpad</a>. Let me first put this in a context. I have been enjoying an unreasonable 2 1/2 weeks with another 2 1/2 weeks to go. It has been like a fun summer camp... or what I would imagine a fun summer camp would be like, seeing as I have never experienced a summer, let alone camp.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Spending time with entrepreneurs from 10 social enterprises has proven to me that entrepreneurs are crazy. They are the most fun, most idealistic and most hard-working group of people anywhere. These are people who are daring to execute their crazy dreams... and that blows my mind. I am a huge believer in the solutions to Africa's societal problems lying in the hands and minds of small and mid sized businesses. Hundreds sprout up each year and most are driven by innovative solutions to massive problems. Honestly speaking, if each of these businesses successfully scaled we would probably have solved famine, illiteracy, lack of financial inclusion, high child mortality, unemployment and a myriad of other problems by now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No matter, we still can! While we can't help all small businesses with a strong social impact scale (yet!) we can make a huge difference by accelerating the growth of just 10-15 at a time and seeing how that goes. These 10-15 businesses are exposed to such a huge network of experts in finance, strategy, operations, HR, operations, marketing and supply chain management that they gain an unreasonable advantage over everyone else in this space. Not to mention the potential investors and amazing team at Unreasonable East Africa.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
By now you must be wondering what is so special about these 10-15 businesses. Why do they get to have this unreasonable advantage? Each of these entrepreneurs has a unique story behind their venture. I have had the amazing opportunity to live, work and play with them. You can get a sneak peek into their story by hearing them give a 6 minute presentation about their story and what they are doing to solve huge-ass problems.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which brings me back to <a href="http://unreasonableeastafrica.org/thelaunchpad/">The Launchpad 2015</a>! Each of the 10 ventures taking part in the 2015 Unreasonable East Africa Institute will tell their story. There will also be a cool exhibition before and cocktails after. I am addicted to dreamers and passionate people in general and to me, this sounds like great fun. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To find out more comment below or click <a href="http://unreasonableeastafrica.org/thelaunchpad/">here</a>. Come on, be unreasonable! Join the movement! Drink the KoolAid already!</div>
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Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-78020447116693615922015-06-23T23:06:00.000-07:002016-01-21T01:36:48.673-08:00We Don't Need Other Names<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a well-founded fear of motorbikes. Add that my fear
of heights, small spaces and life sized stuffed animals and you can see why my
life is one exhilarating experience! I have no need for extreme sports when I
can walk along the streets of Kampala and get that same Adrenalin rush. Come to
think of it, why would any African indulge in extreme sports? We are already
living in the edge as it isā¦ Fear of bikes aside, earlier in the week I took a
boda to work and almost died because of my name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My friend and I were actually
waiting for a matatu but this boda guy stopped in front of us and promised to
charge us the same as a matatu would have. Since there was a bit of traffic and
I really needed to get on with slaying some dragons, I decided to hop on. Being
the friendly Ugandan he is, the boda guy asked our names as we rode off into
the sunrise (somehow that doesnāt quite sound rightā¦ sunrise). My friend gave him
hers and he said it back, as if to test it out on his tongue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I shouted out, āIvy!ā<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He turned his head back and asked me to repeat my name.
Apparently he hadnāt encountered an Ivy before and those two succinct syllables
were strange to his ears. I shouted it backā¦ and again. By then we were at a
junction and since the boda guy was busy trying to catch my name, he didnāt see
an oncoming car from the right. Just at the moment he got my name right, we
found ourselves wedged between two cars, amidst great hooting and cussing. No
one got hurtā¦ and the boda guy yelled at the two drivers, calling them stupid
(that is how you know an accident was not seriousā¦ when there is a lot of
yelling on both sides).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpzBp2f_3XWrfIgAvJ54c0-wtPxHw4oyPOuh8XZEOq3vN0d3dgNMTFXAoSy4fnoRSrQYG6TyZSoGlwVp1-uBungaJsFHlLrwn55t7H3r2LRGBl6z5d6A7ylHKVg_TC5IF19hdA2dAM1Y/s1600/Names.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpzBp2f_3XWrfIgAvJ54c0-wtPxHw4oyPOuh8XZEOq3vN0d3dgNMTFXAoSy4fnoRSrQYG6TyZSoGlwVp1-uBungaJsFHlLrwn55t7H3r2LRGBl6z5d6A7ylHKVg_TC5IF19hdA2dAM1Y/s1600/Names.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a while now I have been debating dropping my English
name and settling for just Muthoni. Or āNoniā to my friends. No one calls me
Noni though, except my mum. I think it would catch on with time, though. If I
was a Muthoni, maybe the boda guy would have caught my name instantly and I
would have one less near death experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been going through this whole africanisation phase
where I want to grow out my natural hair, wear print, use my African name,
listen to local musicā¦ I met a lady a few weeks ago who phrased it so well, āWe
donāt need other names.ā<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This could very well be an identity crisis. All the same, I
am practising introducing myself as Muthoni. Who knows, the people I meet in
the next Ā¾ of my life may get the hang of calling me by it. Itās not the most
glamorous of namesā¦ in fact it has no real meaning. However, it belonged to my
grandmother and that certainly counts for something.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-79477182483057329722015-06-17T05:04:00.000-07:002015-06-17T05:04:35.754-07:00The Motherhood FairyToday as I walked to work I was musing about my skinny arms and how they rightly describe my physical strength. It got me to wondering how I will ever manage motherhood with such feeble arms. Even holding infants tires me after a while. I have this theory that motherhood equips you with super powers. The moment you push that baby out, there is a glowing light that only you can see and the motherhood fairy blasts you with her wand, making you invincible.<br />
<br />
From then on, you acquire super human physical strength. Your baggage:body weight ratio can now exceed an ant's. Physical ailments can't hold you down any more. You lose all sense of gullibility and can suddenly see through all the BS. Suddenly you have an ability to see the best in this one human being no matter what the rest of the world sees.<br />
<br />
The basis of this theory is my mother. She is the strongest person I know, both physically and emotionally. My mum can lift a 90 kg bag of maize flour that would leave many young men panting. She can work all day tirelessly, only taking time off for a cup of tea now and then. She has heard every smart-ass lie my siblings and I could ever conjure and seen through them all. She stubbornly gets her way with everyone. There's no point in getting mad and refusing to talk to her because she has this amazing ability to carry on and not notice your tantrum.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_epLFsqpiJtnisAGWBnNiX0hvubRVn6-PJg1vEfYFA2XcF2tv_pxKjdLAfSV0lcZ1lzjrEw3ru0LOXMUTqA0QGcf570Dw42IbEZAYoR6oFOetxC7H5TBHtkBf4WnGdQm1AGysfOHkRD0/s1600/Mum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_epLFsqpiJtnisAGWBnNiX0hvubRVn6-PJg1vEfYFA2XcF2tv_pxKjdLAfSV0lcZ1lzjrEw3ru0LOXMUTqA0QGcf570Dw42IbEZAYoR6oFOetxC7H5TBHtkBf4WnGdQm1AGysfOHkRD0/s200/Mum.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
I look at her and know that it will take no less than a magical, wand waving fairy to change me into anything close to her by the time I have my own children. Fortunately, if said fairy doesn't exist, I have mum to teach me. Hopefully, 5, 10 years from now I'll look in the mirror and see half the woman she is.<br />
<br />
In the mean time, my super powers go as far as my ability to do my own box braids. I have had them on for two weeks now and surprisingly, people love them!<br />
<br />
This goes to Mummy dearest, who is currently going against every thing I asked and making my graduation party next week into a regional event! How did my guest list of 20 get here?Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-27082450074488989862015-06-06T02:03:00.002-07:002015-06-06T02:03:57.616-07:00It Ain't Fun! <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3RU_qQzFWky9A2Ooz2j6wR2opDZ9YqMDAzdzu2TK6lvYgYbszYcc6tbhi8mm05QipHWHGDZnmPB0OLj2G1G7zpoGS3G6mUHRPOCh3yc1fln68IjpZtQw6b9rMpQUglytGTAhqmkpwb0/s1600/aint+it+fun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3RU_qQzFWky9A2Ooz2j6wR2opDZ9YqMDAzdzu2TK6lvYgYbszYcc6tbhi8mm05QipHWHGDZnmPB0OLj2G1G7zpoGS3G6mUHRPOCh3yc1fln68IjpZtQw6b9rMpQUglytGTAhqmkpwb0/s320/aint+it+fun.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun || Paramore<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Funny how they call it the pearl of Africa when there are no
street lights. Aren't pearls supposed to be brilliant? Donāt mind me, I am not
in the best mood at the moment. I have to get down to writing some reports for
workā¦ and I am actually glad for the chance to put all my concentration into
that and not have to think about anything else. Iāll probably be able to push
that into the better part of the weekend. And when that is done I can pour my
heart and soul into cooking and making small meals for next week. I can also
clean compulsively. Unfortunately, I braided my hair on Wednesday so I canāt
turn the next idle day into wash day. What I am trying to put across is how
mundane my life can be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strangely enough, 12 hours ago my life seemed pretty great
and interesting and I couldn't wait for the weekend to begin. I had almost
forgotten how that one person has the power to turn my most exciting day into
another grey one using a simple statement, āSorry, hun. I canāt make it.ā But
then again, the same person can turn the worst of days into a bearable one with
a simple text. Ironic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I read an article recently about how music lyrics are
getting dumber with time. Apparently, as we stand, most music is at the IQ
level of a second grader. I call this reverse evolution. We got to the
smartest, most refined level as a species and now we are regressing. Didn't
that happen to the Greeks too? Being an Indie fan, maybe my music passes for
eighth grade IQ level, at least. It is depressing but not all hope is lost. For
instance, I recently discovered Hopsin and āIll Mind of Hopsin 5ā has become
like a daily anthem. I think everyone should look it up and will probably be
all the better for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come to the conclusion that I feel this disenchanted
because this is like when the initial excitement of camping wears off and you
now want to go back home to electricity, internet and sleeping indoors. I mean,
I sleep indoors in Kampala too but I miss Nairobi now. I would almost trade the
traffic to be able to drop into Ebrahims for almost anything I could need; to
run into my best friend randomly on the streets and drop all other plans for
the day; to catch up with my sister about her week; to sleep in my bed at home
and to just have everyone I love close by. The fun of living in the real world
is wearing off. No, Paramoreā¦ it ain't fun!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopefully (and seriously though!) this too shall come to
pass and Iāll feel more like myself soon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In other news, that feeling when you get your first pay-check
before you have to pay the bills! Coincidentally, Bills by Lunchmoney Lewis is
currently playing. I wonder what IQ level the lyrics areā¦<o:p></o:p></div>
Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-5668743203466794132015-05-17T10:08:00.000-07:002015-05-17T10:08:37.525-07:00I Want Books... not Stationery!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn4wXJks4J1n1Hrv7HSgnRzPZ-N8YBcqcxywRPKbxDdhw55dXKt0por40C-Hs6q-gYNP6pecdxk5U1bRar6_lFMr1QxeKsVclqX3HUW3sInjfOP7zczuCmV05m6VaxdS9AnLkTs5lSu8/s1600/Street+books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn4wXJks4J1n1Hrv7HSgnRzPZ-N8YBcqcxywRPKbxDdhw55dXKt0por40C-Hs6q-gYNP6pecdxk5U1bRar6_lFMr1QxeKsVclqX3HUW3sInjfOP7zczuCmV05m6VaxdS9AnLkTs5lSu8/s1600/Street+books.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*sigh*<i> picture courtesy of wamathai.com</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have been having a great time settling into Kampala, though I suspect that the side of town I live, work and hang out at has a lot to do this. All the same, to give the devil his due, Kampala has been good to me. Before I go on I have to mention that since leaving my favourite radio stations in Nairobi, I while away my days streaming music online. I am currently listening to songs from the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. That said, I hope my current emotional state doesn't seep into this post.<br />
<br />
Last week I felt comfortable enough to go somewhere on my own. A shopping center like place near town called Wandegeya to access my ATM (ain't nobody got time for Mastercard charges!). My main worry was how I'd tell the conductor to stop when I got there. I still haven't gotten the hang of pronouncing long multi-syllable words without pauses. Try pronouncing Wandegeya... or Kembabazi in a single breath! I kept mouthing 'masao' (masawo?) to myself the whole way. Fortunately someone else was alighting at my stage and did the honours.<br />
<br />
After that successful bank run, yesterday I ventured into the city alone. I had finally run out of movies and novels and I couldn't face a new week in such a state. I alighted at a very central part of the city and begun walking uphill before realising that the term 'uptown' was taken literally here. I passed a few banks, travel agencies, classy hotels and the parliament before deciding that downhill was probably the way to go.<br />
<br />
Anyone who knows me knows how terrible I am with directions. Even left and right confuse me so let us not get into the details of North and South! With my weakness in mind, I tried to walk in one general direction. Two streets down I found myself along a decidedly down-town street. There was noise, actual people (for a city the streets I'd walked along had been deserted) and more motorbikes than usual. I walked along the street: past store after store that stocked printers and printing paper. At some point the stores gave way to mall-like buildings with several stalls... all selling stationery in various forms. Most had signs advertising plastic ID printing... which I did not know was a thing. Aren't IDs an institutional thing and shouldn't your institution provide them for you? Incidentally, this was one of the busiest streets I had come across yet. Apparently stationery is a huge thing here.<br />
<br />
A few turns later I stumbled upon a movie stall but I didn't see a single street book seller. I guess stationary and books aren't as directly correlated as you'd think. I have finally concluded that the thing I miss most about Nairobi is my street bookseller. I was musing that if I could conjure one thing to bring here I'd have a hard time deciding between my bookseller (with his whole stash!) and my boyfriend. But since the boyfriend promised to bring me books I guess he has unevened the playing field.<br />
<br />
Seriously though, if any <strike>Kampalians </strike> Kampala people are reading this and know where I can get affordable books... which incidentally happen to be second hand books, please help out a sister!<br />
<br />
<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-59321780532621950142015-04-28T10:48:00.000-07:002015-04-28T10:48:32.470-07:00Kampala: Of Taking Risks and Killing Two Resolutions With One Stone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Hello World,<br />
<br />
I feel as if it has been so long since I blogged that I should start afresh. To be honest I haven't been busy all along... but the past couple of weeks have been busy. I moved to Kampala! I have never lived more than 2 hours from my family... let alone out of the country. That said, making the decision to come here was a huge risk. I got so many goodbye calls, texts and audio messages full of well meant advice on how to handle Kampala life. If it were up to my mum I'd have moved in a truck full of supplies for the four month period. We struck a compromise at two suitcases!<br />
<br />
I am greatly excited: first by moving out here and finally getting to live independently and explore... and second, by the work that I will be doing here. For the next four months I will be working with <a href="http://unreasonableeastafrica.org/">Unreasonable East Africa</a> as a Financial Architect... which is a cool super hero-ey way of saying that I will be helping a group of East African entrepreneurs, operating ventures that seek to have great social impact, figure out their financial systems. I will get to work directly towards solving huge societal problems by providing solutions to a bunch of really passionate individuals. I wouldn't know about you, but for me that is living the dream!<br />
<br />
My first impression of Kampala: "Where are all the people?" by Nairobi standards the streets seemed deserted. The matatus are too sane and the people too helpful. I am in a constant state of suspicion waiting for the other shoe to drop. The hilly terrain is quite the workout but I can work through that. Now all I need is a movie guy, a street bookseller and a good eyebrow trimmer and I can finally feel at home. Oh, and my boyfriend!<br />
<br />
I also cannot get the hang of traffic police wearing white. For a moment I thought St. John's was just a really huge thing here. That said, my first few days have been okay. This is probably because I have a great support system and work with very wonderful people. I have successfully fulfilled my resolution to take more risks and to travel more this year. 22 has started off great!<br />
<br />
<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4355145586392688659.post-28770002133073437582015-01-30T00:04:00.000-08:002015-01-30T00:04:17.901-08:00Being Plus Sized in a Skinny Family<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJ6kOMinzovXSdPJ3oER9VAubn6Runn9Jr9qePzEZezgcEvTzGqsQpJhr4apVzHYVOpP-9ooKHdcIl-QYx0fcdMKRXYMpPOLNo_UuBWZeAPFv6XFPClTKUmxNCwEQa138VIiJAMm9yaE/s1600/flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJ6kOMinzovXSdPJ3oER9VAubn6Runn9Jr9qePzEZezgcEvTzGqsQpJhr4apVzHYVOpP-9ooKHdcIl-QYx0fcdMKRXYMpPOLNo_UuBWZeAPFv6XFPClTKUmxNCwEQa138VIiJAMm9yaE/s1600/flowers.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIP Guka Kibira.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Up until last week when I read bikozulu's blog post on a <a href="http://bikozulu.co.ke/lets-bury-a-kikuyu/">kikuyu burial</a>, I had never questioned the sense behind our burial customs. Now that I viewed them through a fresh pair of eyes, it is a wonder that I have never questioned the logic behind taking photos at a funeral... posing behind the casket! On Wednesday we buried my grandfather, my mom's uncle, and it was a sober, dignified ceremony befitting the respectable 87 year old man.<br />
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During the now infamous photo session, the MC called for the late man's nephews to take a photo. he mentioned one of them by name: <i>KiMuriithi Kinene</i> (The big Muriithi), jokingly referring to him by his childhood nickname. As an aside, he added that Muriithi was clearly still <i>kinene</i> (big). I glanced across at my mum, remembering this set of pliers that Muriithi had left at our house when I was only six, and that we had taken to calling <i>KiMuriithi Kinene</i>.<br />
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I can bet that you are imagining Muriithi as a hulking, big-boned, big-bellied figure. In fact, he's average in size. His belly is no larger than the average beer gut. He'd fit right in along the hallways of KRA where the beer gut is an identifying trait of the officers. Try stepping into an elevator with 5 or more of those and it's like squeezing between foam mattresses! I have officially developed claustrophobia. However, in a family where the average weight would probably fall between 55-60 Kgs, any visible flab will see you labelled 'fat'. You can now see how Muriithi stood out like a sore thumb in that particular photo.<br />
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For a partially deaf man, there was a lot of singing at my grandfather's funeral. The MC opened up a 'presentations' session and a once reknowned Gospel musician, a white haired old man whose vigour made up for his tone deafness and a woman whose rendition of <a href="http://www.hymnary.org/text/ive_a_message_from_the_lord_hallelujah">Look and Live</a> was only recognisable from the tune and the refrain: hallelujah! It took a beat to recognise that 'rooku and reeve' was actually 'look and live'! My mum tried so hard not to laugh that her pained look made me laugh. Despicable behaviour at a funeral.<br />
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The heat was altogether hellish. Do Republicans still think that global warming is a myth? I drank a whole 500ml of water in a matter of minutes (that is an amazing fete because I cannot stand the tastelessness of water). The woman who was sitting right in-front of me, who was questionably reading the eulogy upside down, turned towards me, stared at my bottle for a full minute before asking, <i>"Si unipatie hako kachupa."</i> As far as requests go, that is one of the strangest I have gotten. That was before she asked my mum for TicTacs; my cousin to take a photo of her; and my aunt to invite her for a get together that we were planning for in April.<br />
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Looking back, I feel that bikozulu had every right to be baffled by Kikuyu funerals. All the way down to the rice, mukimo and cabbage. The important thing, though, is that all these characters had come to lay Guka Kibira to rest. May he rest in peace. <br />
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<br />Ivy Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17061954199116401604noreply@blogger.com0