Friday, July 27, 2012

Urban legends – Urban Bites Crisps.




Anybody who knows me will tell you I love food and especially snacks especially crisps.  I love potatoes in all its forms.  It’s the one food I don’t think I can get enough of.  Whether boiled, fried, roasted, mashed alone or into mukimo or any other way you can have them I love potatoes.

With crisps I have a passionate love affair.  I have loved crisps from my primary school days when we used to carry crisps for break.  Mine didn’t get to be eaten at break time.  Between first period and second period they were over.  Sometimes by the time first period was beginning they would be gone.  I would put them in my desk and open my desk, take out a few, give my deskmate and we would chew while pretending to be paying attention in class. In those days I used to carry crisps, Marie or Family biscuits, homemade cake, or juice.  The crisps days were my favorite days.  When it was any other snack I carried it would last until break apart from crisps and juice of course.  We had drilled holes in our desks where we would pass a straw to drink our juice or the nyayo milk which was provided for us twice a week.

Fast forward to high school.  I was in boarding school so for my mother buying me crisps was not an option. Our tuck-shop didn’t sell crisps so I had to have a dry spell until when I would go home for mid term or when we closed school for holidays.  Then I would shambulia those crisps.  Yap that’s where a lot of my pocket money went buying crisps and the sweets Koos.  I used to love those.

Anyway finally the desert years were over (no crisps in school) and I was out able to enjoy my snacks.  By the way even though I love crisps I am very particular.  I like them crispy in a certain way, how it’s cut also matters.  Flavor came later but I was always particular about how the crisps taste.  Some guys overcook their crisps.  This is just wrong, a waste of good potatoes.  Some cut them so thin that you don’t feel like you actually are eating crisps.  It’s like eating air potatoes.  One minute its there, the next it’s gone and your tastebuds haven’t even registered anything. Your taste buds and tongue are like what just happened here.

So one day I am going to the supermarket for shopping which means I go to buy one thing, buy it and then end up buying a couple of snacks to sindikisha (escort) what I went to buy.  So there were these guys who were sampling Urban Bites.  You know Kenyans they like free samples and I am no exception.  So I try them out and I liked them.  All the flavors.  Then as they were sampling they also were having an offer.  Buy two get one free.  Now if there is something Kenyans like more then sampling it’s getting a bargain.  So I bought 3 different flavors to go try on my peoples, meaning my sister and nephew.  We all thought they are awesome.  That’s how I switched brands.

I love Urban Bites for many reasons.  I love the textures and flavors.  Usually I am a big fan of salt and vinegar and masala but I got sold on all their flavors.  You know the way sometimes you go to the super and your favorite flavor isn’t available and you say you won’t get crisps if you can’t find your favorite flavor.  For me it doesn’t happen I love all of their flavors.  Then I like the packaging.  It’s so unique and eye-catching.  But even though it’s all that jazz you can’t eat the packaging.  But the crisps deliver on the promise that the packaging gives. 







I also like their attempt at poetry.  Crack a bite & feel the vibe, rock it, jazz it, pop it – daytime or night, uptown or down- Urban Bites is the way to sway.  If Urban Bites could be a song it would make me dance.

I wrote a poem about their crisps last year.  Check it out http://raylitpoems.blogspot.com/2011/12/crispy-heaven.html?spref=tw   I have also been doing a teaser a day for Urban Bites during the weekdays.  It’s a way to use my creative skills and keep me sharp (I want to be a copywriter, it’s on my bucket list) and its championing something I love crisps.  It’s not something I am being paid to do but it’s because I love their crisps.  They are great crisps.

PS. I got a couple of complimentary crisps from them today the 150 gm packs. I have gone through a whole bag of Party Paprika bag by myself. Tomorrow its my Nephew’s birthday party so I get to share the goodness. I feel like being selfish and saying my precious but as they say get a little, share a little and the circle continues. Thanks Urban Bites for hooking me up. by the way they are on twitter @urbanbitez254 and facebook  http://www.facebook.com/urbanbites254 so check them out. They are really cool people and approachable. I am now waiting to be invited to do a visit to where they make the crisps magic happen (hint hint).

Have you always had a love affair with crisps or was it something you discovered later on in life? Let me know what you think of Urban Bites as well. What’s your favorite flavor?

Finally I love humour. So let me share a couple of crisps cartoons I love. Enjoy!






Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Love chains



I let you go,
Set myself free,
Yet why does it hurt so?
Why do I feel as if I am in chains?
Whipped by your omissions of truth,
Brought down to my knees,
By the fact you don’t need me anymore.
And all those sweet little nothings,
You used to tell me,
That used to be a balm for me,
Cannot heal these wounds inside me.
I feel hurt,
Broken even.
I am strong,
But you, you make me weak.
You were always my kryptonite,
You always penetrated through my superhero shell.
It hurts,
That’s I am still in chains,
That I am in a mental prison called love,
That I can’t seem to escape.
Just one sentence or paragraph, a picture even
Can make these strong walls I have built against you,
Come crashing to the ground.
You used to be my sugar,
But now you’re my poison,
And your poison runs through my bloodstream.
When will I ever break out of this prison,
Return my sanity,
Be able to let you go completely,
From my heart and mind?




Love is a paradox. It's a prison which holds a person's mind hostage yet its an idylic paradise that tempts one to stay. - Potentash


Sunday, July 22, 2012

Fragile - a story of sexual exploitation of a young girl.(sexual slavery)



The house where I live is at the top of the hill.  You can’t miss it; it’s the white three story mansion that is bordered almost all around by the slums.  Except for the side that faces Muthaiga and which has a private driveway.  It’s a beautiful house it actually looks like a castle.  The kind a girl dreams about to live in and live happily ever after.  I wish it was.  Appearances are deceiving because that is a castle of nightmares.

My name is Carol.  I started living here two years ago when I was ten.  My parents died in an accident and there was no one to claim me.  Mama Salma said that she would take me in.  No one argued, well no one would dare too.  Mama Salma supports half of the slum I used to live in, in one way or another.

“Carol you are going to be very happy with me.  All my girls are happy.  And you are so pretty, in a couple of years you will be beautiful.  Yes, you will do.  Yes, you will do very nicely,” Mama Salma told me.  It’s a good thing I didn’t know what she meant else I would have refused to go with her.

We walked to the edge of the slum with Mama Salma.  Her with her beautiful fashionable clothes and me with my hand me down second hand clothes.  A Mercedes picked us up from the edge of the slum and drove towards a gated compound just next to the slum.  The gates opened themselves as if by magic and I only discovered later that they were called electric gates.

As the white mansion neared I was caught up in amazement at the lawn and the compound the likes of which I had only seen on TV.  The mansion was big, a massive three floors.  The inside was even more impressive.  It was painted in shades of red and cream and the floors were marble.  It was beautiful.  I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

I was taken to the second floor.  The pretty lady who took me there smiled and opened for me a room.  “This will be your room,” she said.  I was stunned.  I asked, “I will be sharing this room with other children?”

“  No!  It’s just you.  We need to get you out of those awful clothes.  You need to get clean and then we will de-lice you.  We can’t have you not looking beautiful.  Come let me show you the bathroom.”

I wondered what it is about beauty that attracted these people.  I had noticed that all the people I had met had been either handsome or beautiful.  People told me I was pretty.  My daddy actually used to tell me I was beautiful and when I would grow up I would turn heads.

I was short.  I had pretty brown eyes, a light brown complexion, and long natural hair.  I hadn’t started blooming yet.  My breasts had not come out and neither had my hips.  I was a rose about to bloom.  Looking back to then when I was naive and innocent I was a rose ripe to be picked and bloom in someone’s garden.

After I had been washed, (I found this strange as I had not been washed since I was 4) the pretty lady who had introduced herself as Natalie, went out and when she returned she had some beautiful dresses and sandals.  “Pick one and wear it,” Natalie said.

I was unsure of what to choose.  I had never had new, new clothes.  All my clothes had been bought second hand from the market or handed down to me by my cousins.  I choose a yellow sundress and some pretty red sandals.

Natalie sat me down after that and told me there were rules to be followed in the house.  The first rule is that I was never to go anyone unaccompanied by someone from the house.  The second was that what happened in the house was private it was not for telling to strangers.  The third was that I should never try to run away or break any of the above rules otherwise I would be punished.  The fourth rule was that I was not to leave my room without permission.  Natalie asked me whether I understand and I said I did.

Natalie said with a sad smile, “you don’t have to stay here.  Do you have any relatives that you can go stay with?  You have one chance to leave and that’s right now.”

“  I don’t have anywhere to go,” I said.

Natalie sighed and then said, “Well now that you’re here to stay I’ll be taking care of you.”  She reached for the telephone, dialled some numbers, and said, “Please bring some food for Carol.  Some chips, chicken, and a soda will do.  And ice-cream for desert.”

Natalie looked at me and told me, “If you need me press three.  That’s my number.  Enjoy your food.”

I was left in this room that was big enough to fit our old house plus another two.  There was a big bed in the middle of the room.  It had a pink bedspread, pink frills, and even a mosquito net.  I thanked God for these wonderful strangers who had taken me in and had given me luxury that I had never imagined.  At home I used to sleep on a mattress on the floor because there was only one bed, my parent’s 3 by 4.

For the next two weeks I never left my room.  I watched TV on a big screen TV that was brought to my room.  I ate, showered and relaxed that’s all I did.  In fact I started adding abit of weight on my bones.

One day when I was watching TV Natalie came and ordered me to bath.  “We are having special guests tonight.  They all want to see you.  They have heard how pretty you are and they want to see you for themselves,” she said.

Natalie took me to the bathroom and this time again she washed me then she braided my hair into cornrows.  She oiled me with some fragrantly smelling oil and sprayed some perfume on me.  When we returned to my room there was a lacy dress that did not seem to have any lining.  Wear that, I was ordered.  I was puzzled but I was too frightened to speak.  Natalie had this expression on her face.  I can’t describe it but I felt scared.  There was no underwear and when I asked for some I was told it doesn’t matter.  She gave me a glass with some juice and told me to drink it.  It tasted funny but since I didn’t want to argue I drank it up.

We went downstairs through a lift that was at the end of the corridor.  I was taken to a large room where there were many chairs and a sort of stage with one seat.  I was told to sit there.  There were men in the room, no women except Mama Salma and Natalie.  Natalie came and stood by me.  The men were drinking.  I was young but I knew the smell of alcohol.

I sat there feeling so uncomfortable.  I was wondering who these men were and what they were doing there.  And all these men were looking at me.  They were around 20 of them.  Some old and some young.  They all had one thing in common.  They all looked rich.  Having lived in the slum you can tell when someone had money.  You can look at their face, nails and hands and clothes and you can tell.

After a while mama Salma stood and clapped.  She smiled and said, “Welcome gentlemen.  It is our honour to host you again at our lovely abode.  Today we have a tasty morsel for you.  We have managed to acquire into our family a young untouched girl.  She is a virgin and she is up for sale.  We will start bidding at 250,000 thousand Kenya Shillings.  Gentlemen come look at the merchandise.  Isn’t she beautiful?”

At this point I was shaking.  I looked around; I thought they were talking about someone else.  But when the men started walking towards me with leery grins I realized I was in trouble.  I was in deep deep trouble.  I couldn’t believe that this could be happening to me.  I started feeling dizzy and my heart was racing.  I tried to stand and run away.  Natalie held me down to the chair.  For some reason I was feeling tired and my muscles were not obeying my commands.

When the first man came and started touching my face and caressing it, I fainted!

When I awoke I felt groggy.  I was shaking and I couldn’t understand why.  Then I looked down and saw that I was naked, just covered with a sheet on my bed.  Then I remembered what had happened in that room.  I started crying.

Natalie came to me and told me to hush.  “Why are you crying?  Crying will not change anything.  You are very valuable.  Do you know how much your virginity is worth?  She paused and chuckled.  There’s a man who will pay 100,000 dollars to be your first lover.  And you had better make it worth his while.”

I trembled.  I couldn’t understand what was going on.  Who were this people?  Why did this man want to take my virginity?  Growing up in the slum and having to sleep in the same one room with my parents I knew what sex was.  Sex was something grownups did together.  So why did this man want to sleep with me?  I understood that losing my virginity was sleeping with a man.

I was puzzled by this.  I asked Natalie, “Why are you doing this?”  Natalie smiled and said, "My darling one day you will learn that sex makes the world go round.  It is a currency.  It is power.  Whoever controls it is powerful.  Always remember that.  There are many men who want sex and are willing to pay a lot of money for it.”

For the next two weeks I was a prisoner.  I was not allowed to leave my room.  There was a security guard posted outside my door so that I could not escape.  Every day twice a day there was a woman who came, scrubbed me down with some portions, and massaged my skin with fragrant oils.  My skin was glowing and became so soft.

I cried and pleaded with Natalie to stop what was going to take place.  She didn’t listen.  I spend my time crying and praying for salvation.  None came.  It seemed that there was no hope for me.

One morning a hairdresser came to my room.  My hair was natural.  She put chemicals on it and straightened it.  Then she put curls in it.  She cleaned, painted my toenails and nails with clear nail polish.  She tweezed my eyebrows and did a facial for my skin.

I was then washed in the tub and massaged with fragrant oils and lotions.  I was made to wear a white dress and white sandals.  There were flowers put in my hair.  I was so frightened because I guessed that the dreaded day had come.  I tried to plea for salvation to those who were attending me but no one was moved.

Later a man I was told was a doctor came to examine me.  He checked me all over and then gave me an injection.  I found out later it was drugs to make me relax and not be tense.

A car came for me.  Natalie came with me.  I was taken to the other side of town.  We passed through the slum on the way out and I looked at my former neighborhood.  I wished I could go back there to play and stay.  I couldn’t believe that a couple of weeks ago I was there.  It seemed like a lifetime ago.

After about an hour we reached our destination.  We had been stuck in jam for about 30 minutes.  I had tried to plead again with Natalie but she wouldn’t listen.  At some point she got annoyed and told me in a harsh tone to shut up.  I shrunk into my seat and kept quiet.

When we arrived at the destination I was surprised.  The biggest, grandest house I had ever seen was Mama Selma’s house but this was bigger and grander.  From outside it was colored in orange and cream paint.  The driveway was long, with gardens and green lawns stretching beside it. 

When we reached the house a man dressed in uniform came and opened the door.  He ushered us into the house.  I later found out that this man was a butler, apparently rich people have people who open and close for them their front door.  They also welcome their guests.  It seemed that there were no other servants; I found out later that they had been sent away.

We walked through and a large corridor filled with paintings and sculptures.  I was taken upstairs to a room with a huge bed.  The ceiling was something I had never seen.  It had a mirror that reflected back the images in the room.

A man came to greet us.  He was not young or old.  I couldn’t estimate his age.  He was tall, white, had grey eyes, and slim.  When he reached us he smiled.  I remember at that time I thought he had a kind smile.  He kissed Natalie on the cheek and then looked me over.  He put his hand on my face, cupping it and looked into my eyes.  He said, “My name is Anthony.  We will have a great time together so relax.  We are going to have some fun together.”

I must have looked so scared, because he chuckled.  Then as if satisfied he let go of me. 
He whispered something to Natalie and she left.  I was left alone in the room with this stranger.  He went to a sideboard where there was food.  He offered me some but I refused.  He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.  It smelled funny and I knew it was bhangi.  In the slum many young men smoked this kind of cigarette.

Natalie came back into the room.  She carried a tray with drinks on them.  She poured some into a glass, came to me, and said, “Drink this.  It will help you.”

I took a sip.  It was bitter.  Natalie forced me to drink it all up.  She then took me to the bed, untucked the covers and made me sit on the sheets which were white.  She said, “I know this will be hard but you have to go through with it.  Anthony is a good man.  He will not hurt you like some of the others would have.  If he tells you to do something do it.  Mama Salma will not be happy if you don’t make him happy.”

Natalie left.  Anthony came to the bed.  I don’t want to talk about those next few hours.  All I can say is that I have never felt so much pain in my life.  Anthony hurt me.  He stole away my innocence and broke something in me.  I think he broke my spirit.  He used me over and over.  I cried and screamed, I fought but to no avail.  Anthony was stronger then me.  He did what he wanted with me.


I stayed at Anthony’s house for two days.  On the second day the doctor from Mama Salma’s came to examine me.  He cleaned me up inside and gave me another injection.  Apparently this was to make me sleep.

When I awoke I was at Mama Salma’s house again.  The first thing I saw was Mama Salma and Natalie standing near my bed.  They were talking and laughing.  When Mama Salma saw I was awake she came towards the bed.

“Child you did such a great job.  Anthony was very impressed with you. Now you belong here.  You get some rest we will talk later,”  Mama Salma said.  She leaned over and gave me a kiss on my cheek. 

In that moment I felt something I had never felt before in my life.  Intense hatred.  It burned in me I cant explain it but I hated this woman with everything in my being.  I turned in bed and looked the other way.  I hurt everywhere; I felt I hurt even deep into my soul.  My body felt like it had met a battering ram.  I forgot it had.

Mama Salma and Natalie left the room.  I saw at the door a female guard.  This time she stayed inside.  Mama Salma wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything harsh.  Maybe she thought I would jump out of the window.  Believe me that day and many other times after that I thought about it but I guess am a coward I couldn’t go through with it.

I stayed in bed for a week.  I cried and prayed.  I thought finally that God didn’t care about me.  He abandoned me in that house.  In that house the gods that were worshiped were money and sex.  I stopped praying.  I didn’t pray for the next 6 years.  I refused to eat anything. I wish I could say I didn’t drink anything but I was overwhelmingly thirsty. I thought, “If I don’t eat I will waste away and die.”

Mama Salma wisely stayed away. Natalie came to check in on me periodically. She would talk to me like nothing had happened. It’s only once that I saw a crack in her mask. She told me, “You have to be strong. Don’t let them break you. The biggest revenge you can have on them is not to break. They want to break you. That’s their purpose and plan” she didn’t say who “them” were but I understood.

The doctor would come every day. He would ask me to part my legs and then he would check my privates to see how they were healing. He used to put some kind of medicine to help me heal up, at least that’s what he said. The first day he had come, the time when he drugged me to take me back to Mama Salma’s he had stitched me up. I had gotten torn up pretty bad because I was small, not old enough to have sex.

I used to play the memories of my childhood in my head like a tape. To try and forget what had happened. I would focus on the happy times I had with my parents. My parents had wanted many children but unfortunately when I was born the doctors at Pumwani botched up the c-section and so my mum couldn’t have other kids. I would play pretend in my mind that they were still around and that we were having fun the way we used to. Sometimes I could pretend for up to an hour but when I moved around the bed and the pain started again I couldn’t hold on to the fantasies.

After one week Mama Salma came into the room with Natalie. She said, “No more sleeping girl. Its time you came back to the land of the living. I hear you are refusing to eat. You will eat or you will discover that crossing me will be the most painful decision you will ever make. Natalie give her a bath and then bring her downstairs.”

Natalie sponge bathed me and dressed me up. She took me downstairs taking the lift. It was painful to walk but I had to. The tone Mama Salma had used told me I would be in very big trouble if I didn’t obey her.

We went to the first floor dining room. I had never been there before. It looked like something I had seen in a movie about how a dining room should look like. There were serving dishes on the side of the room and there were some women in uniform standing there dishing out food.

In the room were about twelve beautiful women. They were different. Some were short, others tall. Their complexion range was from dark black to a lady who was white or something close to it. They stood in groups talking and laughing. They all got quiet though when I entered. They looked at me from top to bottom. I felt shy because I had never felt such hostile eyes on me before or maybe I had never noticed. Then just as suddenly they started talking again. I got the feeling that they were discussing me.

Natalie led me to a chair somewhere in the middle of the huge table that had been set up with dishes, folks and spoons. Later on I was told that the cultured word for this was cutlery.

Natalie asked, “What will you eat?”

I didn’t know what they had on offer so I just told her to get me whatever was there. She went off to get me food. I was left there at the big table hoping that the ground would come and swallow me.

“Hi.” I heard a cheerful voice saying to me. I had to turn and look at this person addressing me. The lady addressing me was a short, plump but very beautiful woman with a chocolate brown complexion. She smiled and then sat down.

“They are all jealous of you, she said. Nodding her head towards the other ladies in the groups. No client has ever paid the amount that was paid for you.”

I didn’t know what to say so I just shut up.

“My name is Bubbles. Your name is Carol, isn’t it? At least that’s what I heard,” the lady said.

I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to get over with eating because Mama Salma had forced me. I wanted to go back to bed. I didn’t want to have some small talk with this lady.

“Am so sorry. I’m bubbling that’s why I’m called Bubbles. I heard what happened to you? There are some sick men out there.”

Just then Natalie came back with some soup and small rolls of bread. I wondered is that all they were going to give me. I ate the food before me with gusto. I was really hungry. When I was done I thought Natalie would take me back to my room. She told me to wait for the second course. I didn’t know what that meant but I soon found out.

Natalie went off with my bowl and the plate. In the meantime Bubbles who had gone to get a glass of wine took the opportunity to get back to where I was sitting. Frankly I did not want to talk to anyone but my parents had taught me not to be rude to grown-ups so I didn’t tell her I wanted to be alone.

“You know you are the first young girl under the age of eighteen to be brought here. The girls here,” she swept the room with her hand, well they usually come here when Mama Salma makes them a proposition they can’t refuse.” I didn’t know that word “proposition” and I didn’t want to talk so I just listened.

“Many of the girls here came on their own. Mama Salma is pretty good at getting what she wants. She offers money, a good life and a life of luxury, now which girl would refuse a deal like that.” Bubbles laughed, yet when I looked at her she looked sad. I don’t know what was going on in her mind.

Bubbles said, “anyway Mama Salma decided that since there was demand she would start a new sideline of supplying young girls to willing buyers. It seems there are quite a few men who wouldn’t mind paying a lot for under age girls. I guess you can say you were the experiment. She seems very happy with how it has gone.”

At that moment Natalie came back. She didn’t seem too happy with Bubbles talking to me. “Bubbles take your gossip somewhere else. And if you need to get drunk don’t do it in my presence.” She clicked her tongue at Bubbles. Bubbles stood up and left.

“Don’t associate with that one. She is a gossip and a drunk. Don’t listen to anything she says. She is just a bitter girl. Now eat. Mama Salma is coming in soon and I want her to find you haven’t eaten. What did I do to be rated a babysitter?”

I sat there and stared at the plate. It had some kind of pilau, some chicken, vegetables and some kind of coated brown food that I couldn’t tell what it was. I took a bite and realized it was fish. Now there was something I loved. I dug into the food and ate everything.

Natalie had by then gone to drink wine with some of the other ladies I had seen. They kept looking at me and then they would sneer or say something in hushed tones. I felt so alone. I wanted to go back to my room actually I wanted to get out of this place. I can’t believe when I came here I thought I would be safe. That someone would take care of me. To realize that I was just a pawn to be used was to me even at that tender age very painful.

After about half an hour Mama Salma came into the room with a tall, dark, handsome man. All the ladies hurried to chairs around the table and sat down. Mama Salma was dressed in a red satin dress that clung to her breasts, hips and thighs. It had a slit at the side that ran up to mid thigh. She was wearing red shoes and had a red big handbag to match. She had on some red lipstick and some blue eye shadow that made her look, in my opinion, very scary.

“I would like to thank you all for being available tonight. I will release you in a couple of minutes. As you can see am on my way out. I just wanted to have a formal welcome to our new housemate, Mama Salma said. “Stand up Carol.” I stood up, holding on to the table so as to balance.

“I want you all to treat Carol nicely. Don’t bully her or play those tricks you usually play on each other. I will be very unhappy if I hear that you have done anything to her. Treat her like your beloved sister. Carol here will be making me a lot of money and I want her taken care of,” Mama Salsa said as she smiled.

” From tomorrow Carol you will start your lessons. I pride myself on having the most beautiful girls but they must also be intelligent and behave like ladies. I don’t want any of my girls to embarrass me. Tomorrow Carlos here will start teaching you how to speak proper English. He will also teach you some French, Spanish, Italian and German. Those are the languages our customers speak and so you need to learn some of that. That is all. Girls behave yourselves. Some of you are getting drunk on the job and I promise there will be some disciplinary action if you don’t stop.”

Mama Salma and Carlos went out. After a few minutes the atmosphere changed. The girls broke out dancing and laughing. Natalie came for me and escorted me to my room. She explained to me that the girls needed to get ready. Their clients were coming to pick them up. It seemed Mama Salma did not like the men to sleep inside her house so they came picked up their choice for the night and then left with them. Later on I heard this is what she did so that if by unfortunate chance the police raided her house they would not find any men there. The house was apparently called, “Ladies of Distinction Modelling agency.” She had listed her house as a business which trained and acted as agents for models but that was just a front.

In my room I felt like I was in a jail with no bars. I hate this place but I couldn’t leave. Well at least on my own volition. I sat on my bed and wept. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring but whatever it was I was scared to face it. And in the dark this is the poem I composed.

Big plastic smile on my face.
Inside am crying for my innocence.
Used to be happy but now happiness is just a word I hear.
I have everything material but nothing emotional.
Am dead inside.
I was a fragile flower.
But then I was cut and crushed by cruel hands.
I am broken inside yet outside I function.
I don’t believe in God because a loving God wouldn’t let this happen to me.
I hate men.
They are all pretenders.
They pretend that they are nice, loving and caring.
They are not, they are beasts that crush innocence,
and wear blood like it’s a trophy for sport.
One crushed my delicate flower.
Others waited in the wings to stomp out the good in me.
I hate, I hate with a passion what I have become but I am a prisoner.
I can’t escape my capturers they have conquered my mind.
Told me am nothing that they have made me sum thing of value.
Put a price tag on my flesh.
Invisible chains hold me to this place.
I am fragile, broken, and old in knowledge yet still a child.
Am a woman in experience but a child in mind.
Am fragile yet I haven’t broken.
Scattered yet held together by will
And a plastic smile.

This house, Mama Salma’s house was my prison until I was 18 and I escaped with the help of a client who fell in love with me and wanted to save me. But that is a story for another day. I have seen things and been done to things I cant explain. Shameful, horrifying things that give me nightmares. But I am a survivor. A fragile beautiful doll that’s beautiful and whole on the outside but broken and ugly on the inside. This is my story, a story of shattered dreams.

Potentash 2010

Dedication

For all the young girls, young boys and women being held as sexual slaves all over the world. We pray for you everyday. And hope that you will be saved from your bondage. May you find freedom. May you find love. May you never give up hope that one day you will be free. May your voice never be silenced. May your story cause others to take action to save others like you.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Butterfly wings


They look at me in concern,
They worry, you see,
I can see it in their faces, their expressions,
When they ask, “how is the search going?”
Yes, they are all concerned,
These people that love me,
About when I will get back on the wheel,
And look for a man,
To settle down with.

I am grieving,
Getting over a broken heart’s no joke,
But like a paradox of something sweet and sour,
My broken heart was a blessing in disguise,
It made me open my eyes,
And realize I have been letting my dreams pass me by,
So slowly like a bear wakes from its slumber,
I am slowly using the broken pieces of me,
To create something beautiful.




I am free,
To be me,
To do what I have always wanted.
I have finally stopped giving a damn,
Stopped wanting things that don’t make me happy,
Things that break me, that suffocate my dreams.
Its time for my dreams to breath,
For them to fly and soar.
Yes, I want that man,
But when I am ready,
Not now,
I am a larvae emerging from a cocoon,
Becoming the butterfly I was meant to be,
And right now there’s no space for anything else,
Except learning how to fly.


Airing out dirty laundry in public


This is a reply to Dear Doris, letters written by Ian, her husband. If you want to get the letters here they are http://mydeardoris.wordpress.com/

Dear Ian.

I want to ask how you are but I have been reading your blog, frog, or whatever you call it and I am so mad I want to throw a shoe or two at you.  First of all I know I cheated on you twice but did you have to tell the whole bloody world?  You are telling my dirty secrets like we are on that busted show with Shiku. I thought you forgave me and let by-gones be by-gones.  Now I find you have told the whole world. 

The only reason I cheated in the first instance was to get your attention.  But you kept ignoring me, flying around the world and leaving me at home alone to raise the children.  I know you provided financially.  But money couldn’t keep me warm at night or hold me.  I wanted someone to hold me that’s why I cheated.  I thought you would notice and things would change.  But you kept ignoring me.  You didn’t even find out until I cheated the second time when I shouted it when we were arguing. I was sorry the minute those words came out of my mouth. 

The second time I cheated I wanted it to be obvious.  I wanted you to know that somebody still found me sexy and wanted to be with me.  It’s like you no longer saw me as a woman just as a mother to your kids.  I wanted you to desire me like you did when we first meet.  When you couldn’t get enough of my company.  What happened to us Ian?  You changed from the man that used to love me and want to be seen with me.  You would come home from your trips and refuse to take me to bed, claiming that you were tired.  I wondered if you were having an affair or affairs.

Ok I know it hurt you that I had an affair with your best friend.  Sam was always coming to check up on me.  He loved my cooking and he made me laugh.  Ian you were not here.  And I was so lonely with the kids off to university.  I wanted to feel like a woman again, a desired woman.  But Ian I was so foolish, not because you caught us in bed but because all I wanted was you.  I think I could plead temporary insanity with the affairs.

Now I seem to have lost you.  You seem to be more interested in writing to me letters that you don’t post or hand deliver to me.  Do you still love me Ian?  Do you? After finding your blog which everybody in this town seems to know about but me I wonder if you do?
I logged in to your website (is it a website?) and found some young girl had written you a letter.  I don’t even understand what she was saying and I had to get the nanny to translate the letter from that weird sheng language into English.  Seriously Ian you are now gallivanting around with a girl from Eastland’s who can’t write properly and who seems to be threatening any woman who stands in her way.

I don’t know what’s happening to you Ian.  Mara it’s the yellow yellow girls then some strange girls who seem to want to not break up with you.  I am wondering if our daughter in university could actually be reading what you write.  Does she know that her father is a sugar daddy?  I am so disappointed in you.  I didn’t think that you would go chasing young girls the age of your daughter.  But then again maybe I shouldn’t cast stones seeing as to how I am a fallen woman.

Ian I want you to know that I do love you.  I always have.  I know I broke your heart and I wish I could undo it.  I hurt you.  I hope you can forgive me and we can move on.  All I want is for us to be a family again.  For us to be a happy family.  I know that you did not marry me for the money as my father said but because you loved me.  So please come back.  I promise that I will change. I promise Ian that if you come back to me I will never look at another man again.

Love always Doris.



Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Magical destinations for me!


Places I love and would love to visit.

My friend Njooro challenged me to write a post on the joys of traveling and destinations that inspire me.  I decided to choose 10 places, five that I have been to, and five that I would love to visit.  Some are countries and some are towns.  Let me start with the five that I love that I have visited.

PLACES I LOVE 
 
Nairobi.

Nairobi is a city close to my heart.  I was born here and hope if God wishes to die here.  Nairobi is a great place to live.  I love the blend of cultures, architecture, and attitude.  Some of my favorite places are the animal orphanage/national park/safari walk.  It’s an awesome place.  I also love the churches, restaurants, clubs – they are so dynamic.  Paradise lost on Kiambu road, Uhuru Park/Lunar Park – I love the rides.  I love my home.  Had to put that in.

What I haven’t tried.  Going into a boat at Uhuru Park.  That dark water scares me.  I will try that one of these days.  I also want to go to the elephant orphanage.  It’s on the list of things to do.

You can check out my feelings in depth on Nairobi http://raylitpoems.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-nairobi.html?spref=tw

Mombasa.

I love Mombasa.  It’s a beautiful place.  It makes me want to stay forever.  The heat gets to me I must admit.  The beaches are beautiful even if some places the sea weed has taken up beach space.  Mombasa is very relaxed and not as hectic as Nairobi.  So I always come back refreshed.  I always got henna tattoos when I go.  Those things make me look good.  I love the blend of architecture between old and new.  I also love the food down at the coast.

Places I have never been.  I have never been to the Marine Park and the National parks.  I want to go there and check them out.  I want to do abit of diving as well.


Kampala.

Kampala is one place I fell in love with.  The people are friendly.  The food is fantastic.  Some of the clubs make Kenyan clubs look shabby I must say.  I just liked the warmth of the people and the food.  And the Ugandan men are gentlemen it’s not a myth it’s true.  They know how to treat ladies well.

I have only been to Entebbe and Kampala so I would love to tour more of Uganda.  I would also like to swim in Lake Victoria.

Rift valley.

What’s not to love in Rift Valley?  I love the scenery.  The beautiful mountain and valleys.  I used to love climbing Mt. Longonot though I haven’t done it in years.  The beauty of that place makes me know that there is God.  I love the lakes and the historical sites.

United Kingdom

I lived there for 13 months but I fell in love with quite a few places.  I lived in a small town called Mansfield, Nottingham.  There were countable blacks living there.  In fact when I first went there I stood out.  But the people were very friendly and loving.  They were not cold as I had been led to expect.  I actually lived with two families while I was there.  They treated me like part of their families.  Then there were those families where I had a dinner date every week.  Those guys in Mansfield were top notch.  I will never forget their kindness and love towards me.  So I loved Mansfield the town and Ravenshead which was where I lived. I plan to go back there again for a visit.

I used to go to London when I was on leave.  There were so many fascinating places.  Buckingham palace – outside was a great place to visit and we could see Downing Street.

The place that I fell in love with in UK was Alton towers.  It is UK’s largest theme park and is situated in Staffordshire.  It has the most amazing rides and attractions ever. Some of the rides made me feel like I was going to die one minute and the next minute I was feeling high and wanted to do it again.  I loved it especially Nemesis, Air, and Oblivion.  It is one place you must visit if you’re into thrills and living on the edge. To find out more http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alton_Towers

The other place I loved was Madame Tussauds.  This is a museum like place where there are life size wax figures of celebrities and they look real.  I took a lot of pictures there.  There was even a wax figure of Jomo Kenyatta.  It was a fascinating place. For more info http://www.madametussauds.com/London/About.aspx

I also went to a couple of music and church camps where the music and partying was awesome.  Who knew Christians could have so much fun?

Places I want to visit. Emirates stadium of course. Gunner for life.  I also want to do a tour of the Cadbury factory.  Plus go back to Alton towers again and again and again.

PLACES I WANT TO VISIT

Maasai Mara.

I have never been there and I hear it is an experience worth having.  I want to go and experience the wildebeest migration for myself.  I want to go and see the sights.  I want to tembea Kenya.

Zanzibar

I want to go to Zanzibar.  I don’t even know why I have never been there before but I need to go.  I want to experience the culture and food.  Look at the architecture and drool.  Go hang out on the beach.  If by the time I get married I haven’t gone I will insist that my husband and I go there for our honeymoon.

Italy.

I want to experience Italy.  I love their food, architecture, jewelry, their cars, their language, their badassness.  I want to go and just experience Italy.  I loved Italy from a long time ago. 
I used to love books about the mafia.  I really romantized those gangsters.  But I would love to see Italy and visit Sicily.  And maybe get to visit the cathedrals in Rome next door.  But I do not like opera so I don’t plan on going to listen to that.  But the art and classical music that I must experience.

Israel.

This for me is my ultimate destination.  Who wouldn’t want to see where their saviour was born, grew up, died, and rose again?  I can’t wait to go there and experience Israel for myself.  See the places I have read about in the bible.  Trace the path of Christianity.

I am also a farmer at heart.  I want to go to a kibbutz and learn how to make the desert fertile.  I know I could use that knowledge here.  I want to see how they do it.  I want to taste their produce, see how they live.

USA.

The reasons I want to go to USA are many.  Not for the obvious touristy reasons.  The biggest reason is that my brother and cousins live there.  I haven’t seen my only brother since 2004 so it would be great to see him in person.  A year or two ago it would have been because of he who shall not be named.  The man who broke my heart.  But no I don’t want to go to the states to stalk him.  I am done with that.

I want to go visit the largest comic bookshop in the USA.  I would also love to go to where they do marvel comics.  Marvel comics are the ones who do Fantastic Four, Spiderman, X-Men, Iron Man, Daredevil and Avengers.  Everybody who knows me knows I love cartoons and animations.  I want to check them out. If I could manage a visit to Pixar I would be the happiest girl in the world. Of course I would love to visit Disney land.  Experience the fantasy.

I would also like to visit The Holyland Experience. This is a theme park by Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN) where you can experience the bible as it happened long time ago. They have musicals and stuff like that.

If I could attend a Joyce Meyer, Joel Osteen or T D Jakes conference then I would be good to go. Those guys speak into my life like seriously.

There they are my destinations of choice to visit. Let me know what yours are.




Monday, July 16, 2012

Why the giraffe’s neck is long.


Long time ago in the days of our ancestors there lived in the savanna many animals.  One of these was the giraffe.  In those days the giraffe was very short and did not have a long neck.  The giraffe loved to eat but he could only eat grass and leaves of shrubs because he was so short.  This made him unhappy, because all his tall friends like the elephant told him that the sweetest leaves were on top of the trees.

He had a great desire to taste the leaves so he talked to his friends and asked them how he could manage to eat those leaves.  They advised him to go and see the medicine man who was the hare.  He took their advice and went to see the hare.

The hare told the giraffe that he would make him tall by stretching his legs but that the giraffe should return before the sun set or he would suffer the consequences.  He applied some ointment on his legs and they became long.

The giraffe was very happy.  As soon as he had his long legs he run to the trees with the juiciest leaves and started eating.  He ate and ate and ate so as to eat his fill before he had to get his short legs back.

He was enjoying eating so much that he forgot that he had to go back to the hare by sunset.  Soon it started getting dark and he remembered the warning of the medicineman.  When he tried to move away from the tree he was feeding under his head got struck between two branches because his head had puffed up because of the food he had eaten.  He tried to come out but he was stuck.  Poor giraffe.

He cried out for his friends and they came and tried to pull him out.  Alas, it was all in vain.  Then one of the animals went to hare, the medicineman to see what he could do.  The hare came, climbed up the tree, and applied some medicine to the giraffe’s head.  It came out from between the branches.  The giraffe was looking very funny with a long neck and long legs.


The giraffe asked the medicineman to change him back to his normal self but the hare refused.  He told the giraffe that he would remain like that.  That was the price he would have to pay for being so greedy and not being content with what he had.

Morals of the story:
Be happy with who you are.
Greediness does not pay.

Raylitpoems 2002

PS. I wrote this story as one of a series of stories I wrote in writing for children class at Daystar in 2002.  You can find another one Karanja and the City Bullies here http://raylitpoems.blogspot.com/2010/05/karanja-and-bullies.html.  Karanja and the City bullies was published in the Daily Nation in the Children’s Corner between November 25th and December 10, 2010.  Who knows where this story will find itself.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Love won't let the African Sun die.

This letter by Zole is a response of a letter written by Bana in a story written by Ken Saro-Wiwa called Africa kills her sun. Here is the link for Africa kills her sun for those who may not have read it http://anaesthesia4aesthetes.tumblr.com/post/16721726862/ken-saro-wiwa-africa-kills-her-sun

Dear Bana.

I write this with tears in my eyes.  I got your letter today and it broke my heart at how you meet your end. You may be surprised to find out I got this letter two years after your execution.  Apparently it was found in your mother’s belongings when she died two months ago of a heart attack.  Apparently the letter was sent to the last address you had of me but I had moved.  So it was sent to the return address which was your mother’s address. Knowing your mother I am not shocked that she didn’t sent it to me.  She hated me from the beginning.  She didn’t like me.  She had plans for you and they did not involve getting married to a village girl, the daughter of the village drunkard.

I am sitting at my home watching my son Kevin play with my husband outside.  They are playing chess.  They both play with passion.  I think soon Kevin will give my husband a run for his money.  He is very sharp like you were at that age. My daughters I have two, Angela and Rachel are playing house near where I am seated.  I feel blessed to have a man who loves me and adores me and three beautiful daughters.  I didn’t always feel this lucky at one time I felt I was cursed with a streak of bad luck.

I can’t even imagine how it must have been.  Execution by gunshot.  I hope it didn’t hurt my darling.  I can’t believe that you, Bana the hope of the village died like a common thief.  I am trying to understand how that boy from the village became so hardened and decided to become a criminal. I find it hard but Bana, I too have done things that made me feel ashamed.  So I cannot judge.  We all do what we can to survive.

As I said I got your letter from your mother’s belongings.  Your older brother sent it to me.  It had been opened already.  Your brother said your mum had opened the letter and read it.  She then became very bitter that you wrote a final letter to me but you couldn’t send one to her.  She said that I would never get the letter as long as she was alive.  Your mother never liked me.  She looked down on me.  She thought I was a no good girl trying to trap her son.  I know you would defend her and say no she would never think that.  Thing is Bana I heard her one day when I came to see you.  She had venom in her voice as she said bad things about me.  But that wasn’t as bad as the things she said about me when I came looking for your address a few months after you left for the navy.  I needed to talk to you urgently and she refused to give me your address.  I have a feeling that the letters you and I wrote to each other through your family’s post box were never delivered.  Your letter to me proves it.

You remember the night before you left we went down to the river.  To that spot where we could see the river but there was a shelter of trees.  We used to go there and you would hold me.  We would tell each other our dreams and hopes.  We would talk about getting married when you left the navy, because you would have enough money to build me a modern house.  I was going to finish teacher’s training college and come teach the children in the village.  I would redeem our family name.  No longer would my family be the laughing stock of the village.  It hurt you know, being called the daughter of the village drunkard.

It started innocently.  Us kissing and caressing.  It was great to feel your body next to mine.  My heart would beat so fast and my palms would get so sweaty.  I liked, no loved your touch. I liked having your hands, rough from the work on the farm running over my arms, and thighs.  I always wore short skirts when I was going to meet you.  I remember how you used to love my legs and full African figure.  We would touch and kiss each time going a little further.  But I remember how I was ready to be yours totally but you said we should wait.  You didn’t want me to shame my family any further.

In your letter you said we never consummated our love.  Bana we did.  That last night when you carried some locally made palm wine and food for us to enjoy.  We danced and drank wine and danced some more.  Then we started kissing and making out.  Bana I wish I could say that I remember what happened that special night but I don’t.  I think we got too drunk and got carried away.  The next day I was sore when we awoke but I thought nothing about it. We said our passionate goodbyes and parted ways.

Three months later I was in teaching college and I started feeling nausea.  I thought nothing about it.  I thought it was something I ate.  I took some medicine for my stomach but I kept feeling sick.  Finally I went to the dispensary.  When the nurse attending asked me as I filled in my form when my last period was I couldn’t remember.  My periods hadn’t always been regular and I was depressed over you going.  When I said that it had been awhile she wrote me down for a pregnancy test.  I wasn’t worried.  I knew it would be negative.  So imagine the shock when I received the results and I was pregnant!  Pregnant,  How by immaculate conception!

Bana I was so shocked.  I cried for three days and didn’t attend class.  I wondered how this had happened.  I had never slept with any man including you. I was a virgin. You were the only man who I had let anywhere near me.  I could not understand it.  I prayed for God to give me answers but he was silent.  In those days if you were found to be pregnant and not married you couldn’t stay in college you had to leave.  It’s like they thought you had a contagious disease and would infect others.  So they kicked me out.  I felt broken.  But I had hope.  I knew that if I explained it to you, you would understand and come back we sort things out.  You knew I was a good girl.  I would not have told you that you were the father if you weren’t.

So me, naive girl that I was went to see your mother.  I told her that I needed to send you a letter.  That I was in the family way and you were the father.  Your mother screamed at me that I was a slut.  That I was only trying to trap you.  She said that I probably got pregnant by one of those college boys and that I wanted to frame you for the crime.  She called me a prostitute and other names.  She said I would never never see you.  That I should go to the village midwife and get myself rid of that burden.  She actually took a broom and hit me, pushing me out of your compound.

I went home, my head hung in shame.  My mother cried but she accepted my pregnancy.  My father wanted to throw me out but mother stood her ground.  That was the first time I ever saw my dad listen to my mother.  When I had the baby, I was in labor for 13 hours.  My baby was born and he was 4.8 pounds.  A strong boy.  And he looked like you.


After six months of looking after my son an auntie of mine got me a job as an untrained teacher.  I wasn’t paid much but it was enough to survive and take care of our basics. After two years the school forwarded my name for training in a government institution.  I had to leave my son behind with my parents but I used to come home over weekends and holidays.  It was hard leaving my son but I had to.  I had tried looking for a way to get in touch with you but your mother had warned your family against helping me so no one would give an address to find you at.  I finally gave up.  You have to understand that I wanted you to know but there was no way to get in touch with you.  It’s not like nowadays when everybody has a mobile one and more people have post office boxes.

In my final year I met Ken.  He was teaching at the college and carrying out research among the students.  He had a degree in education and he was doing his masters.  He tried to talk to me but I wasn’t interested.  You have no idea Bana how single mothers are treated.  It’s like there is evidence that you have tasted forbidden fruit and you got caught.  Many students and teachers had tried to approach me for an affair but I wasn’t interested.  I had my eyes on the prize.  I was going to finish my education and go back and get a great teaching job.  My son’s future depended on me.

Ken kept on pursuing me.  He wrote me letters.  I tore them up. He tried to buy me lunch and I refused.  Finally he told me that he wasn’t going to give up.  He had found someone that he liked and he wasn’t going to give up.  I only went out with him to get rid of him.  But he was fun and intelligent so I went out with him again.  He had traveled.  He had been to many different places.  His family was rich but he wanted to make his own way in the world.  And he never pressured me to have sex even though he knew I was a single mother.  We talked about our lives, where we had come from, and where we were planning to go.

Soon I was finished.  I went back to the village.  But Ken kept writing to me.  One day he turned up in the village.  In his car no less.  He found out where we lived and he came there.  He told me to enter the car we go for a drive.  He asked our son to go with us.  We had fun that day and he bonded with my son.  When we went back he asked me to remain in the car so that we could talk.  He asked me to marry him.  He was willing to raise my son as his own.

So now here I am at our house outside are Ken and Kevin playing a game.  Yes Kevin is your son.  He reminds me so much of you.  The way he laughs, his facial features and how he articulates himself.  But he has also gotten other characteristics from his adopted father.  He doesn’t know that Ken is not his father.  We haven’t told him.  I know I will have to one day but let him reach at least 18 years of age.  Besides which if he asks me if I told him right now that you’re his father and he asks to see you how do I tell him you were executed as a common criminal mastermind.

Ken is a great man.  He paid for me to go to university when we went to the USA for him to do his PHD.  I am currently doing my masters.  It was one of my dreams remember.  But nothing is as fulfilling as being the mother of these three beautiful children that I have.  I love them so much.  I love Ken as well.  It’s not the love that I felt for you as my first love but it’s a great enduring love as well.  He makes me happy. Our marriage is what I had hoped ours would be Bana when you came back from overseas.

I wonder what your mother said when you asked about me.  Whatever she said it must not have made you hate me.  The letter you wrote to me is evidence.  I think your mother was angry that even as you headed for the grave your love for me was still strong. That’s real love it cannot be destroyed by distance or time.  I loved you at one time with all my heart and I am heartbroken that you exited the world in such an undignified way.

I will honor your wishes about a statue and gravestone.  Both for me and for your son who I will one day give a copy of this letter so that he may understand that you were not a bad man.  I will put your epitaph as well “Africa kills her sun.”  My darling I hope you are now in a better place.  I hope you made your peace with God before you died.  I will say a prayer for you tonight.  Sleep well my first love. I hope the next world brought you better tidings then this one.

I must go.  My daughters want to go out and play with their dad and brother.  They say I have taken a long time writing my letter.  But how do you say goodbye to a ghost of the past?  I don’t know.  Maybe one day we will meet again as souls in heaven.  Life didn’t turn out the way we planned Bana. But I know I am still grateful that I have another day to see, another sunrise to meet, another sunrise to say goodbye to.  I weep for you but I rejoice for the blessing that is your son.  Africa kills her sun, but tomorrow at dawn another will arise in his place.

Yours in love,

Zole.


Saturday, July 14, 2012

Married to you

 This is post number two in a series of two posts about being in love. Post one is my love affair. Check it out
http://raylitpoems.blogspot.com/2012/07/my-love-affair-1.html

You can be so much fun,
Take me to new levels,
You give me poetry to write,
You’re my muse.
Your constantly in motion,
And never boring,
Every morning when I wake up,
And know I am going to spend the rest of my life with you,
I am happy,
I could do this forever,
Me and you,
I have been in love with you forever,
From the moment I first saw you.
I love the many languages you speak,
And the variety of food you provide.
Though sometimes you can be boring,
When it seems nothing’s going on,
But you are exciting too.
To be honest I have been tempted to cheat,
To leave you for another,
But I know you are the one,
The one I was meant to spend the rest of my life with.
I love you,
With all your drama, and strange moods,
I married you,
And I plan to stay that way,
Until death do us part Nairobi.








PS. I am still looking for a picture of a man who embodies Nairobi. If you have any send it to me khenjir@gmail.com and I will put it up.

Acknowledgement. All the pictures I have used for this post are by @truthslinger - Mutua Matheka. I love his photography. Major talent. Just looking at the pictures I fall in love with my City.

My love affair 1



You are so hot and sexy,
Sensual in all that you do,
You make me want to throw away all my inhibitions,
Do things I have never done before.
I love that your old,
Yet so young in spirit.
You make me want to go sit on the beach,
And fall in love with you over and over again.
I love your cologne,
That salty smell that’s so unique to you.
You make me want to stay,
Leave everything behind just to be with you.
When I am with you,
I feel so sensual, so alive.
But our love was not meant to be,
That is why we have a passionate affair Mombasa.
But I can’t stay,
I am already married,
I regret,
To Nairobi until death do us part.





This is post number one in a series of two posts about being in love. Post two is married to you . Check it out http://raylitpoems.blogspot.com/2012/07/married-to-you.html

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Why women have 5 million pairs of shoes!!!!



I was having a discussion with some guy pals the other day. I was trying to sell them some maasai sandals. Then we started a discussion on shoes. They were saying that women have too many shoes. That they change like three pairs by the time its ten o'clock. They said we have shoes for the office, shoes for walking, shoes for shoes etc. Well I think they suffer from shoe envy because their shoes are so expensive they cant afford to buy many pairs. There are many reasons women have many shoes.

1. We have sexy shoes. those are the shoes that make you strut like a model. they make you feel sexy and elegant. These are usually high heels. But if you wear a heel that's more then 3 inches your on your own ( i don't get it, unless your short).



2. We need shoes for running around. Women are always running somewhere, o to market, supermarket, running after children, to school etc. And while we are running around we need shoes that are comfortable because we are usually carrying many things. So these have to be comfortable. You can also wear them to the shamba or when your doing general cleaning. These are those plastic shoes women wear nowadays, ngoma and some general low maintenance shoes.



3. They are a fashion accessory. You want to dazzle the world and your outfit must match from head to toe including shoes. It makes you look good and sexy too.





4. Contrary to what men think not all women's shoes are cheap. Some are damn expensive. but it is true you can get quality shoes at a cheaper price. Especially if you buy mitumba shoes. So you can get many quality shoes and not break your budget. But if the shoe is right but expensive women will break their budget to get that pair of shoes.



5. Shoes can get a man's attention. There are those shoes that a woman wears that even guys notice. They make you look sexy or slutty. But they work. They make a man focus on your assets , your beautiful legs - that is if your legs dont look like hockey sticks. Sorry ladies i say it as it is.



6.  I think some women have an identity crisis and it shows in their shoe choice. I cant explain it but have you ever seen some shoes on a chick and your like what is the world. Yap I cant explain it. I think its called screaming for help through shoe choice.





7. To get height. Some women are short and want to be taller. But generally most women wish they were taller so they use shoes to boost height. And also look sexy.


Anyway those are some of the reasons women have many shoes. i know there are millions. any excuse to get a good pair of shoes works. Ladies if you know any more let me know and I will update the post with them.

Guys I hope you get it now. Women love shoes. They have many functions so quit saying we have too many shoes.