Thursday, April 21, 2011

Early Man's Errant Ways: Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Kemikali

So today I finally cleared my exams, and 8-4-4 is officially dead to me. Awesome feeling this be. Anyway, I asked Kemikali on 25th February to send me a guest post to feature in the duration I'd be occupied clearing Uni, and in true Kenyan fashion, he sends it to me today. When I've cleared campus! Are you serious? Follow the crazy man on twitter here, and check out his blog here

Now let's be fair and let the guys speak for himself:

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

I was a child once. In many ways I still am. My endless fascination with the fact that my face can grow a beard has many concerned. But my childhood was less than conventional. Granted, the fact that I had just a mother, and the said mother was pretty involved in my life, successfully masking the need for a father, made things that shouldn't be normal okay. Like the fact that she was gone for close to two years for work, and for that time I was pretty much the Man of the House at the age of 7, something I found to be oddly satisfying, now that I think about it. 


Outside my house, however, I was a complete wuss. A weakling, in glasses, whose sole claim to fame was the fact that he read more than most and had very little to say. However, I did become quite animated whenever it was Miss Ndegwa's class. Answering questions, generally sucking up. Yes, your wimpy, geeky, quiet Eric had a thing for Miss ndegwa :) 
She was the English teacher. And what a teacher she was. Even when she doled out the punishments, a quick rapping of the knuckles...hurt like hell, but still, it was a chance to get closer to her. Now that I think about it, I had the biggest, most inappropriate crush on her. So much so that I was made a prefect (apparently the best ones are the ones that try the most to please) and I was almost always number 1. 


Child prodigy
But then again, my childhood has been highly romanticized.

Child children

As is the fashion with other posts on my blog, I shall do a quick laundry list of how to be a successful child child (as opposed to child actor or child prodigy...that's for another day) based on my experience as a child child.




1. Keep your size in mind when signing up for things

'Things' here is varied, from the tyre race during Sports Day (which I finished 6th in... I have a certificate to prove it) to the football match between your class and the other class. When playing against larger opponents, opt for something uninvolving, like goalkeeper. Fine, you may have to stop the ball, but for the most part you will be free to just sit and wander and make noise. All the action is in the middle anyway. And even though you are tempted to, do not stop the ball with your face...


2. Some problems are easy to solve. Just run away.

I learned this the easy way...I hated math. Long multiplication especially. Like to the point of going to another class entirely and sitting in the back. Granted, I had a friend in that class, and the lesson they were having was Art and Craft, and the work mostly involved just making things. Fun times. Yes, you post subject-adjustment kids, YOU MISSED OUT! So this one time the class prefect was sent to find me, and I was found. I stood up for myself, quite unlike me, the wimpy kid in the blog title... and again I was found. Mostly because I had a tattle tale for a deskmate. And also because I told on myself. So the math teacher got me acquainted with the caned, and I had to do a lot of math. A lot. 

So no, you can't run away from your problems...
 

3. Just because you like someone means you have to share your break with them


I had a megacrush on the girl that sat behind me in class 3. Yes, I caught feelings very early on. And she humored me. So something in my head (darn Television!) told me girls like it when boys give them things. So I gave her my break, which was a pretty big deal. I was a small-ish child, so all the food I could get was extremely essential. And she took it. She didn't refuse. (Child logic = she likes me back)
So when Sandra (that was her name...) had to transfer schools, I was crushed. I remember crying and not eating. (Yes, food-related memories are many)

It was long before I started carrying break. A week, I think. There's something about mandazi and juice that helps in situations like that...





4. You can totally make stuff up, and people will believe you

That's the awesome thing about being a kid, you can have an imagination the size of a mountain and nobody will question it. The truth was elastic, regularly stretched far beyond its original shape and size. Such an imagination was the bliss of growing up; the source of many dreams, many of which have since been crushed. But a fragment of that imagination lives on. That is the core, the beating heart, that dreams are made of. A child-like willingness to try, even when the potential outcome is failure. I miss that, I really do. The ability to just sit and tell the most ridiculous stories about how you went on a trip to some random made up country and the people were so awesome and the place was so cool and other random things...



5. It's never that serious
 
The worst thing you can do to a child is to make them see the seriousness of life. That's for them to discover at their time. I was pretty aloof and idealistic as a child. That had its plus side. I was optimistic, most of the time, knowing that the world was, in the long run, a pretty awesome place, and I was pretty lucky to be in it. That said, the negative was that I was ridiculously trusting. That's how a lot of my stuff got lost. It went to 'helping' other people. But it wasn't that bad, really.  




Memory has a way of glossing itself over with the passage of time; like, I'm bound to have a pretty squeaky clean picture of my childhood. Lucky enough though, I had a good one. That has been the source of a lot of the things I carry around with me, good vibes that I hope I will pass on to my own kids, when (if?) the time comes.
 

Monday, April 18, 2011

Random Usings by Attilla the Hand

They say that music soothes the mind and placates the soul. I here that it's also the balm that relaxes those of you who cannot result to alcohol at the end of a long day. The rhythm of the beats, the crooning voices within the melodies, and the bold text massage contained in the lyrics...instant bliss intertwined with a few crotchety minims. For this reason, however, I have a bone to pick with the brand of music played today in our radio stations. That, though, is for another day.


Sometimes, however, other than stimulate the dopamine-secreting parts of our brains, music will leave us questioning some of the things we go through. While writing this piece, I'd been listening to an old Eve song, and I realized that we currently have a shortage for the 'ride or die' kinda woman. Curse me in outrage if you must, ladies, but let us do something Kenyans are not known for...let us think logically. Emotions aside, think for a minute; when was the last time you heard of a woman who stuck by her man no matter what?


She sees the peel, and somehow still steps on it   Inset: How come I fell?
By ride or die chick, I do not refer to the type that sticks through abuse, physical or otherwise. Sticking with a man hell-bent on killing you, maiming  you or worse for the sake of “love” is quite frankly on a whole other level of blonde. Ride or die women are the kind that hold you down through the hard times; the type of woman who will stay with you through the air buggers at Jeevanjee, through the CMBs (Chapo Mbili Beans) at the ubandow, through the tarmacking period, through that part of your life where lady luck just decided, 'fuck it...let this dude hang for a while'. Miss Ride-or-die will have sembe skuma for a wiki, and understand when you cannot afford to legally acquire that clutch bag they wanted for one reason or another. 


Am a movement by myself, but am a force when we are together. Get yourself a ride or die woman and suddenly those words will not sound like gibberish. Ride or die women make those words sound philosophical. Ride or die women are who Cecile is talking about in her song Anything. They cook, they wash, make up your bed and clean the house for you. They press your clothes for you, spend their money on you and accept you warts and all.  Ride or die women will stick with you through the rough patches in life. They are the kind who will accept the temptation that a man goes through everyday, and instead of taking it out on us, they will layeth the smack down on the temptation. They keep us from our own suicidal tendencies. 



Ride or die women would never air personal business in public, calling radio stations in indigination. They handle their business indoors, between them and their man.
Ride or die women are the type who undestand that Saturday afternoon is time for us to spend with our other loves. They understand the depth of emotion that is evoked by these other loves and will not keep us from them. These loves differ from one man to the next, and even when talking about them, ride or die women know that they cannot afford to mistakenly or otherwise refer to them by the wrong name. They vary from Man United, to Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Formular 1, Rugby, Gor Mahia and AFC type loves; heck, even hard Tiger's wood and all the hole-in-ones for some people. They understand the depth of passion that flows through us when we are with these other loves, and accept that they cannot compete with them. They accept them and even attempt to get to know them better. Ride or die women will give up a day from their favourite soap opera just because Top Gear is on, and they know the passion that their better halves have for it. 


I could go on and on about the descripiton of ride or die women, but instead, I'll outline the signs to look out for if you're that dude that hasn't quite figured out what to look for:

  • If you have ever spent serious money on your woman, money that you did not necessarily have, and yet at the end of that spending spree, you still felt like it was worth every bit, then you most likely have one of those women. 
  • If your woman appreciates the effort you go to in order to do some of those things that other women take for granted, like actually hang out with her in public, then you may have a ride or die woman. 
  • If you ever sat with your boys and listened to them lament about the things their women make them go through, and the first thing that came to your mind was “what the hell are they talking about”, then you most probably have a ride or die woman. 
  • If you have ever listened to Bust it baby Part 2 by Plies and it made you smile, because the first thing you thought about as the lyrics to that song floated around in your head was your woman, then you most definitely have yourself a ride or die woman.
RIDE?
 
OR DIE?