Friday, October 17, 2014

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Six: Ani andooga?!

I don't even know how to begin this quasi post/lamentation/rant. Do you know how you have those really horrible nights, straight from the hottest part of the hideous belly of hell? That make you want to go native ergo the post title. If I could, this entire post would be in Luganda. Alas, I struggle to speak it so writing it is a myth. I just had my second horrible night from hell of the year! Why is the devil working overnight on my account?! Why Lord?! Why this year?! The year that I've clocked in more Sundays than the past five years combined?! Who do I need to appease to correct things? Must I find a one mutula ku ngo (he who seats on a lion)? What? Cause clearly am doing something very wrong?

Current feels.
So here's what happened just a few hours ago. The girls and I have been planning to check out a place called Blue Ice for awhile and we chose this auspicious night to go. Everyone was in high spirits,excited, the works. This was going to be a good good night. We drive to Blue Ice at about 11.30pm. We get there and the place is dead. I could count the people there off one hand. We didn't even get out of our cars. Spirits were dampened but we were relentless. We drove all this way for a good time and a good time was to be had. The closest place next to Blue Ice was Kuddy's. It's new so we figured it'd be a good idea to go check it out. We get there and are happily welcomed by the proprietor. There's a good crowd so we decide to stay. We get a table and order drinks. We chat for an hour and decide to call it a night. We go to our separate cars to leave.

I get to my car and lo and behold, the door at the driver's side is open. I am taken aback cause am pretty sure this damn door was locked when I left. I try to insert the key in the lock (side note:the next car am buying will be those ones with an auto lock thingy as a result of this! You know the ones with a start button. Am done with car keys). The key refuses to get into the lock. I take a closer look and see that it's been tampered with! My heart drops out of my chest to my feet. I think of the stock worth over a million in the car. I get into the car,turn on the light and start to take stock of the damage. The bags I left on back seat. Gone! I run to open the boot, everything's there. Thank Jesus. I ask the friend I was with what I should do, she says we need to inform the owner. So I head back in and politely ask to have a word with the proprietor. She obliges and steps away from her company. I tell her that my car has been vandalized at her premises and my property taken in full view of her guard who was claiming that he'd seen nothing. Hard to believe seeing as I was parked right in front of two (not one, TWO) bright lights. 

Anyhow, she calls a couple of her people and we go back to the car to assess the damage. One of them (small guy) apologizes, says they'll deal with their employee and take care of the damage. I tell them the contents of the bags that were taken and explain that those cannot be recouped, not immediately anyhow but what I really needed sorted ASAP was my lock. I explained that my car is a tool of trade. I cannot possibly go around with a damaged lock. Small guy seems understanding and takes my number, sets an appointment for midday the next day for me to return and sort this out. 

I get into my car to drive away, then comes big guy. He asks me to reverse back into the parking. I do, and ask him what the hell he wants. He asks me to wait as he's called the police and would like for me to wait for them as well. I look at my watch and it's coming to 2 am. My friend whispers to me that this fat dude probably doesn't believe us. Hoooooooooo!!!! All calm and sensibility vacates my brain. I get out of the car, now screaming on top of my lungs about how my car is my business and I could not possibly have driven a car with a damaged lock to their premises just so I can later pretend that it was vandalized there. How much is a lock anyway? I could have lied and said there was a laptop taken or 50 million!! My bags had been taken (containing sentimental items by the way, shoes I'll probably never find again, a sweet sweet outfit for my child) and I didn't want those replaced. I just needed my f**king lock to be fixed! That is all. Plus now it had become a matter of principle. They had a guard. I was parked in their parking lot. I saw no sign anywhere saying parking was at my own risk. My dudu, my baby had been injured and this fat man was standing there thinking I'd lie about that! I wanted to spill blood!

So before this small altercation could turn into full blown murder, I jumped back into my car and drove off but not before shouting that they'd best call me tomorrow or wake up to a proper place bashing PROMOTED post on facebook! (Sadly, Idle threats are my cup of tea). I drive to Kiwatule to drop my friend home so I can be on my way home. I play my Tracy Chapman CD cause my soul needed soothing and I needed my blood pressure to return to normal. 

Just as I thought the night could not possibly get any worse. I drive into a police road block. They were holding breathalyzer tests. I parked behind a Noah as the policeman walked up to  my car. He asks me to get out of the car and I oblige. I line up for the test. I am confident cause my last drink had been taken many hours before and all that shouting and venting surely should have worked the alcohol out of my system. Alas no! Immediately after blowing, I see 0%. The policeman presses some button and shows me a blood alcohol level of 0.06. (what's the illegal limit by the way?) Anyhow, now my mind's racing;can I bribe and get away with it? How much would they want as a bribe? F**ck,I remembered I had just 5,000/= left in my wallet! Who can I call to bail me out? My father is going to kill me!! My father is going to kill me! Oh my God, I am going to be in the papers! Oh my God, am going to jail!! I had a full on panic attack in that moment. So the policeman takes the details of the lady who was driving the Noah and starts talking about how he's going to have her car towed to the police station. I am livid. This is really happening! Jail!!

The Noah lady breaks down and starts crying.I see an acquaintance waved down by the police but he doesn't get out of his car, he just slips the policeman something and he's let go. No test. My brain takes that as its cue to start working. In that moment, I decide that I need to do something and do that something quickly. I assess the situation; About 6 police officers. 5000/= can't cover them. All of them on foot. All of them currently engaged with other drivers.No police motorbike. My car strategically parked next to the shortcut to my home. My details not submitted yet. Perfect! The police lady starts walking the Noah lady to her car. I walk beside them as if to support her, get to her car and quickly dash to mine, start it and hightail out of there like a bat out of hell. I was doing 80 K.P.H on a horrible murrum road and hit 100 when I hit the tarmac. My baby flew like she knew mama was in trouble! 

Now here I am in bed, blogging, wondering if am a fugitive, if the loss of my super cool, super pricey phone earlier this year and this incident are related and asking; Why me? Why me Lord?!

Thursday, October 16, 2014

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Cinq: Dear Miss Rhimes.

Dear Miss Rhimes,

Sher here, avid (more like slightly obsessed) watcher of your shows ; Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder (Chile, that title is a mouthful! Why not something super short and sexy like Murder Inc?! No? Moving on then). I just finished watching the 3rd episode of that last one and now that my blood pressure has returned to normal, I have questions! Ohh so many! But you're a busy woman, producing 3 primetime shows is no mean feat so  I'mma let you finish but I have 3 questions that I gotta ask. (See what I did there?) Then I can live.

Question one: The HAIR. Olivia Pope and Michaela Pratt hair (Annalise is wearing a wig. Nobody got time for that). How do they get that hair? It is not fair for you to send  perfectly laid hair our way without telling us how it got that way. Yet you are fully aware that the black woman's number one struggle is hair! Miss Rhimes,Where is the Olivia Pope hair blog? We need tutorials. We need product reviews. We need Olivia Pope and Michaela Pratt hair!! Perfectly layed like goddess hair.

I need this magic spell! I have suspicions that the secret ingredient is newborn tears. That hair is coiffed!! Damn!!
Question two:Side Piece Activity! Why Miss Rhimes?! Why this bad behaviour?! Miss Pope is a side chick and Ms.Analisse has nookie on the side. Why? We black women are not about that life, are we? That can't be the co-curricular activity that the ONLY black female leads in a primetime show can do. How about psycho serial killer? I see Annalise pulling that off superbly. She's the pro at getting away with murder. Something for you to think about.

Question three: The Oreo Situation. Miss Rhimes,I love that you are bringing diversity to our screens daily. Love it. Absolutely. But (very big but) there's such a thing as diversity overkill *side eye at Glee*
Olivia's first love interest was white. We said OK, lovely, how cute, very fresh. Then you threw in a black dude who didn't last 2 seconds (Poor Edison. Didn't have chance with his big Ole ring. Olivia's a fool.) Then came another white dude. Ahh more diversity. We're cool. It's alright. Then came Annalise and you gave her a white husband?! Why Shonda?! Why?! Is this a theme? Am I missing something here? 
And then you went and made Michaela's fiance a down-low dude! Why Miss Rhimes?Why don't you let these women prosper in the love Olympics struggle? We can't win in real life and you're taking it away on TV too. No. We can't have this. Look into your heart and have a storyline where a black woman is happily married. She may kill people for fun in her spare time, have a gambling addiction, be a pimp. But for God's sake let her win at love!  

Miss Rhimes

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Quatre: On Sex and the City...

I met (let's call him Jake)a couple of months back and  we'd been doing the should we, shouldn't we dance for awhile. You know, you like a guy but it's still very murky waters in terms of where this "thing" is so your hot for him and you'd let him do anything and everything except it. "It" is for people who you're dating. Exclusively.

So I go out with Jake, New Years night. See, so undefined! I don't even know whether it's a date or not. He just says, "hey come lets hang" and there I go. Short skirt, red lipstick and that delicious strawberry mist he loves. Tottering on heels that'll break my legs if I miss a

But I really like Jake and it's New Years. We kiss at midnight. Ring in 2014. We drive around,  house party one is a bust. We leave. Club Amoeba. His friends are here. We have a little competition at the entrance; who has the best Fred Astaire jump. I win. The one wearing heels. One drink and we're gone. House party two, how come there so many house parties on new years? More drinks, we dance. We dance alot. Intoxicated. High off each other,liquid happiness and prospects of a new year,a clean slate.Hopes of prosperity. It's a good high. Everyone's leaving now.

Jake goes to the car. Lights a J, calls me. I'm still dancing. Gosh,I love dancing. I go to the car. All the windows up, he's hotboxed the car. I get in. A waft of the good herb hits me. He passes the J over and starts the car. He thinks its good night to show me the hand brake turn. See this is when you deliberately  turn sharply reversing the direction of a vehicle by speedily applying the handbrake while turning the steering wheel. I think to myself, we are
going to die. But I don't care. Live fast , die young right. That's the thing about Jake, my demons are friends with his. They dance and call this chaos we create home. I really should not like Jake. But I do.

Jake is driving to his apartment, windows up and we're singing(more like shouting) along to Power Trip-J.Cole and suddenly the car is spinning and I'm screaming on top of my voice,this feels like an orgasm. He spins the car again, I throw my hands in the air cause I see it coming this time and it feels like floating . I turn to look at him and he's looking at me, smiling, awed. We just died.

We get to his apartment. He turns on his big TV and sits, smoking a cigarette. Time to serenade the king.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. New style of writing meant for a commercial project I'm working on. Yay/Nay?! Let me know in the comments.

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Trois : On "Free" work!

Ola Dolls,

An acquaintance called me up this morning talking bout some work they'd like me to do. I say; "cool, aight. I'll swing by and see what you've got. Am a tad busy but if the pay is right, am good." She says OK.  I get there and she's talking about a really exciting project. She's re-launching her fabulous urban fashion store and she needed to gain a legit social media and web presence for her brand. I am about that life! I love fashion. I love social media. Bring the two together and we have a winner.

Yass! Bring that work here. Momma's gonna do it.
So we sit down to discuss strategy; I was supposed to cover five sites, twitter, Facebook, instagram, pinterest and her website. It's a fashion store, a lot of images to be taken and edited but I wasn't fazed. I love my work, I do it wholeheartedly and it shows.
So at the end of this, she gets up as if to leave. And I'm like, wait. Wait a minute, we haven't discussed my fee. She looks at me like all of a sudden I'd started speaking in tongues.

Seriously. This was the look!
So she settles back into her chair and goes on about how she thought I do this for free. FOR FREE!
What!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where and when did I say that. Free! Am I the UN? RedCross? Bono? Who pays for my internet? Are the pictures going to take and edit themselves? This  *insert expletives* woman wanted to pay me in air and gratitude. Gratitude don't buy food. I cannot go to emirates and book a ticket to Dubai with oohh so much gratitude! Jesus, take the wheel. This b***h cray! What part of: "if the pay is right" did she not understand?! No No No. I was having none of that. You want to make money off the exposure that my hard work (And it is hard HARD work I assure you) is going to garner but you want to pay me in feels. Of Gratitude!
Damn right!
Got up. Gathered my bags and was out of there like the air currency I was going to be paid in.

I know my profile is not big. I have not done work for any major brands but for those that I have, they are happy and have seen returns. Unless it's for charity, am done past the free work. I have 2 mouths to feed! It is not much but I do charge a nominal fee for my services. I can't waste (yes, it's a waste) any time on freebies cause it takes away time from my essential nation building projects , from my family time, from my social time all of which I hold very dear. So for anyone hoping to suggest such nasty things to my face again;


Tuesday, October 14, 2014

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Deux: On Unemployement....

Ola dolls,

So yesterday was my first Monday of unemployment! One would think since I have been brimming with energy, project ideas coming out of my ears in alarming amounts, I'd be beside myself. Alive with the promise of unlimited opportunity. I was supposed to get out of bed like this;

Hells Yeah! Am the issh! Am about this business!
That did not happen. My feels would not let me prosper! See, I've been gainfully employed for 5 years and I have been receiving some type of allowance from the man (read government) for the 3 years preceding that. I've been getting paid my friend! I was making money. My bank is one of my bestfriends, what, with the timely deposits they've been receiving on time. Chile, I was in that dough.

Making it rain on them disloyal people. I kid. Not!

And now am not! 

Me. In quiet contemplation of the 7-figure salary I just gave up.
I dragged my tiny bottom out of bed to get my laptop and turned it on to work on my projects (am currently deeply engrossed in 2, how I get time to be idle and disorderly and then mop is beside me. The ancestors must be mad). Anyhow, looking at unfinished, income bringing work didn't help. I thought of pending plans and how I have no way of funding them unless I work. That trip to Dubai;Not gonna happen unless I move some product and I move that product NOW. Nope, didn't work. The brain had received a catastrophic dose of cortisol and was not having any chills.

Meh! Meh! Meh!
I went back to bed. Laptop in tow to watch movies. All work relegated to Tuesday,Monday was professional IDAF day. Just I was settling in to Maleficent (Do not judge me for turning to Disney whilst depressed. I live with a toddler!), I got an email notification. A customer was inquiring where she could find one of OUR stores. Wait what? Say that again "one of our stores"! Bless her. I was truthfully in awe. It appears that I have created a corporate enough image of the baby store that people think it's a  proper retail chain (pats self on the back). That didn't get me out of bed though.
I called my own Olivia Pope to read to me and get Sherry's groove back. 

Her words; Get up heifer! You will sleep when rich.
Did not work! As soon as I got off the phone, my brain went back to it's misery loves me state. It was cooing to Sam Smith's lonely hour. It was like I had lost a dearly beloved friend. I was ashamed of myself. I have looked down upon salary dependents all my life, I have striven to fight this dependency since God knows when and here I was, finally free but sad! Pitiful! What is wrong with me! Where is my value system?!

Katniss.Weeping for the loss of my purpose!
Thankfully, after many many hours of moping (I weep at the thought of time lost! Time I will not get back!) I received email from one of my team mates. She'd designed a beautiful logo in record time for our project. And here I was in bed, idling the time away. I got up. If I was going to disappoint anyone, it would not be other people who have chosen to believe in my vision and my dream. I was going to work dammit! And work I did. There's been a lot of traction in just 2 days.

Will I go to Dubai? That is yet to be seen. 

Come to mama!

PS:This was supposed to be submitted yesterday but as you can see, I was busy solidifying the relationship with my bed in the time allocated to blogging.


Tuesday, October 7, 2014

On Uhuru Kenyatta....

Ola Dolls,

So an African (Leave out South Africa, that is Europe!True story. Go to Joburg and the cape,then report back) President went and handed over power. I repeat, an AFRICAN president handed over power! Not under duress! Not after losing an election! Not after being physically incapacitated (Side eye at you despot Robert Mugabe). His reason; he did not want to compromise the sovereignty of his people. The person of the President shall not be answering charges at the ICC but rather it will be Uhuru Kenyatta, the individual.

Chile! I have watched that speech 10 times and I tear up every single time. His people! His dear dear 40 million Kenyans!

Whether this was a political show or not, I was sold. Father Jomo must have wanted to rise up,shake his hand and pat his back from the other side. Coming from a country where the last peaceful handover of power was when the colonial masters were exiting the colony, I am more or less flabbergasted. Power can be handed over? Just like that?! In a non-self serving manner?! Who knew?!  Uhuru is the bomb diggity. Infact, I shall hence forth stop undermining him and refer to him as President Uhuru (Coolest first man this side of the planet!).

Kenyan state of mind
This also brought to mind the ever growing power vacuum that our very own President inadvertently (or maybe not) has created. He cannot possibly hand over power (Though I still dream about it fervently!) so in the case he were incapacitated, his second in command, our dear VP Edward Ssekandi would be left in charge. He has ZERO millitary clout so this would last all of 5 seconds. The most likely person after that would have been the former Prime Minister, Amama Mbabazi but he was fired not too long ago and currently being stripped of whatever clout he had. My bet is that the President watched House of Cards and saw a Frank Underwood happening to him. Had to nip that in the bud as quickly as could possibly be done. So that would leave us with; no one?! The horror of civil unrest! See Mr.President! See what you are doing to us! See Libya! I dare you to run a google image search of Libya for the past month. All prosperity has been undone.

Yep! Every single one of us!

Anyhow, back to the man of the hour, he topped that off by flying commercial to the Hague. Saving thousands of shillings of his dear dear Kenyan's tax money. This man can do no wrong! None!

It is I. The President of this Republic.

Maybe I should move to Nairobi.