..she cried, Nakupenda, Nakupenda....

I don’t want to be ‘catchy-feely’ about these two past weeks, but it’s impossible to stay objective. It has been a societal nightmare, from women getting stripped and molested in broad daylight to fucking babies – NO! DON’T excuse my language because that’s what it WAS.

UGLY and totally unwarranted.

…. and GOK downplaying the massacre of half a bus load of Kenyans in Kenya.

Our Men Have Gone Mad.

What’s ailing us as a society?

We need to really begin TALKING TO EACH OTHER.

It’s so damn filthy underneath the carpet. We’ve been sweeping and sweeping and sweeping all the dirt and bits of food, chicken bones and curdled milk underneath the carpet.

NOW (at this present time} as a Society, we’ve moved, oh yes we have, we’ve shifted from the old house to the new Mansion but… wait.. WHAT THE FREAK IS THIS?

You lift the carpet and it smells under there… Ugliness was hidden, sheer incompetence, a maggot lack of responsibility, an attitude like the pastor who was photographed kissing asses in public – that’s what KENYAN men have evolved into. Collective Ass Kissers.

Coast is on Fire. Yet advertisers are making a killing hyping the benefits of  ‘cheap air fare and domestic tourism’.

Pause: What’s wrong with that picture?

We call in and say I think my neighbor is Al-Shabab. It’s ignored. A month later when the bombs go off our security forces go and kill cells that should have been zapped a-long-time-ago.

Places of worship SHUT DOWN. Police shot dead.

Yesterday I spoke to a Matatu Driver on route 44. The first words out of his mouth were: ‘Kwa hii matatu hatutolei wadada nguo zao’.  I hadn’t even opened my mouth. Which made my BRAIN SCREAM in horror… HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON, BUT WE’VE BEEN SILENT? Is it only because of these Viral Videos that this madness has come to light? Are the video takers, as nasty as they are, dong us a favor by videographing  and spreading a horror that’s been ongoing - The truth?

Can I say this? That in these situations, when one person intervenes, they get attacked by a hostile mob.

Wewe – acha- nita kuchapa, hii sii vita yako.

It’s safer to walk away.

If you find an accident victim on any Highway and take them to hospital, you’re arrested. If you go report a crime to the police, you’re thrown in. Members of public have learnt to watch in horror as 1 and 2 do ‘their thing’. It’s not stopped. We watch - then turn away, Praising God ‘it wasn’t me’.

If you go to any police station as a woman to report a rape, the cops say you’re the cause.

Many rape victims cannot speak, and only whisper, but they’re shouted at and told to stop mumbling and speak up…. It’s so demeaning, so dehumanizing, so UGLY, that we women simply don’t report a crime.

S m h. Ask around, don’t take my word for it.

Going back to my question, is this something that’s BEEN HAPPENING? What are the mathematical probabilities? If we have been treated to, let’s say - 8 FREE videos – in a week - how many more women have been violently violated?

From a Grandmother in Nyeri to a 3 year old, to a young mother who went to report a rape in Kiambu, was locked up by the Policeman on duty and repeatedly raped, and on her return home 12 hours later, found her baby dead.

No, don’t talk about Nairobi Womens’ Hospital and their data.

Let’s slum it and find out from looking into the horses mouth.

And this I know. .. what we’re looking at is the tip of a Boil.

Where we see the tip of the ice-burg, we know it’s far deeper, right?

When we see smoke, we know there’s a fire somewhere…

When we spot a leak, we know there’s a crack further down the piping…

When you feel a boil on any part of your body… you KNOW it’s worse underneath. When that thing is squeezed, the amount of putrid white mess that oozes out is so much more than you bargained for – that’s because there’s usually a whole lot more puss under the skin.

I REMEMBER, we prayed for our NATION. And we’re moving. And in that movement we’re stumbling because of the horrors we’ve been sweeping under the carpet.

SO.

THIS IS A HORROR THAT HAS BEEN GOING ON.

The victims and witnesses have all been keeping quiet, now they’re screaming. We’re leaking from the edges, our Ebola is showing, we’re hemorrhaging critically from internal wounds.

Those of us who Tweet and Facebook and You-Tube behind the safety of gated communities, sheer curtains and cool tiled floors, with sleek laptops worth thousands of euros on our laps, listening to strums of soft rock music while we surf, 100 times removed from reality, are now shocked out of our muteness. Suddenly, this horror can’t be ignored. The crap is on our faces. We can’t wash it off and the more water we add, the more it smears and stinks.

In reality, our girls cry ‘Nakupenda, Nakupenda’, to our men while being violated, singing the words as a mantra to save themselves from worse indignities, crawling home to drunken louts masquerading as husbands who, despite wearing a wedding ring, stuff their fists, and bottles into their neighbours daughters vaginas in a public bus.

What type of mind is that?

I don’t want to know.

The same one that will look for a sheep or a goat, cow, donkey or chicken to insert their penises into,  then spend hours doing the same to a child who barely knows herself?  Have we as a society become so inhuman to screams that we shrug and walk away - not asking ourselves, why is that child screaming? We’ve become silent and therefore we’re part of the problem.

I try and sleep at night, but gory images from those viral videos sent to my profile pages have resulted in me black-listing untitled video content and using my TrueCaller to block unwanted texts and phone calls.  If you’re not on my phone list you’re not getting past that.

I just don’t want to see these images any more. I have a choice, but thousands of women in Kenya don’t. They have to use matatus daily.

I switched off Social Media for 72 hours, but it didn’t help me one iota.

Truly, I’ve ‘caught feelings’.

And I’m desperately hurt, wounded and bleeding, as I am sure a few of us are.

I’ve been raped by my own relative and my innocence is shattered and gone to hell.  I’m swallowing pieces of broken glass shards, they are cutting up my soft  insides as they go first through my mouth, then the soft tissues of my throat and stomach.

I’m belching blood.

I don’t know where which hurt is more.

Not a stranger, not a foreigner, no. My neighbor and relative. Foreign men, the Ugandans and Tanzanians and Nigerians and Cameroonians are shaking their heads and admonishing  our brothers in accented English, ‘you men, brada, you dunno how to look after your women Ohh’.

Can we really look at Kenyan touts the same way again? Can any of us venture downtown again? Should we be very afraid for our sisters, daughters, mothers AND GRANDMOTHERS?  Are we going in to a Dark Age where Fear rules?

Mortein Doom costs less than 300 shillings or thereabouts. If you press down on the nozzle of Mortein Doom, the pressurized spray will connect with an attackers eyes and face from as far away as  5 feet. It’s pure poison and may blind the attackers. It works better than Pepper Spray and is readily available in any of Kenya’s supermarkets….. but….

WAIT….

Who am I kidding? When I mentioned this randomly,  I was told to remove myself from that path of thought, as it would probably blind the poor man forever. “That’s inhuman!” was the gasp of shock..

POOR MAN who wants to push a bottle in to my vagina?

Anyway - WHO AM I KIDDING? You, who is reading this will never need to stash a can of Mortein Doom in your handbag. And unless we all buy cans to give to our Housegirls, we don’t venture into those areas, work late shifts in factories thus ensuring our need to be in a matatu at 11pm, or walk the streets at night. No. We are home by 8pm, or 9 or 10, cocooned behind our beautifully painted textured walls.

WHY do people talk to me and vomit their thoughts? Yesterday the BodaBoda guy I pass daily pointed out a girl and said – see, she looks okay now…. Referring to a the lady who was almost stripped and molested/raped early that morning. She screamed her lungs out, and eventually the police arrived, shooting in to the air to disperse the crowd. A housegirl coming to work, but attacked because of walking ‘alone’.

The Bodaboda man said to me – YOU WOMEN are getting some of us to protect you against us, then you wear what you want. But, we’re also getting OUR SECURITY with you women – Not you you – [Meaning me}– but these other women… we’re stripping them because that’s our security, our defense, because, when they walk like that we’re not secure’.

Blank.Me. As in totally. And if you get that don’t bother explaining it to me..

Somewhere deep in that mans brain, with his wedding ring, because he knows himself, will he caress his wife and not think of WHAT they do?

Do they, like Pontius Pilate, ask their wives for some hot water in a basin and wash their hands off the smell of female interiors and blood?

Do they go home with words of, ‘Hi Honey, I’m HOME. I’ve had a terrific day, how are YOU?’

Do such men have children?

Let’s do a take your child to work day, THIS IS HOW WE DO IT… sing along with me… THIS IS HOW WE DO IT…

How can I look at my husband and not wonder if  he molested a girl on the way home….. but offers me words of endearment?

Is there pride in the bars and lounges across Kenya? Like, friends meet and talk - Hey, DUDE, wassup! Today I stripped a mathee… wah wah wah…. Let me buy you one I tell you that storo…’,

Ama…

‘…. Cheeeeezi… My boy, heheh… whazup, whazup! He he he…let me ask you, what’s the youngest pussy you had? Man, listen, you gotta do 3…’

You say Nyakio that’s sick? You want to cry, or close this page, or call me and insult me and tell me to delete this article?

Yes, we’re a sick nation. Let’s admit that, we’re good with platitudes but uh, uh, that’s not gong to work any more. Instead of throwing stones at each other, let’s put the stones down, and get into the business of TALKING to EACH OTHER. Not because the person next to you might be a brother, or sister, or mother or father, or son or daughter, NOPE.

LET’S TALK TO EACH OTHER BECAUSE WE’RE HUMAN.

I watched the clips - in the office - over a young mans shoulder, and he said, ‘it’s okay, she’s laughing and saying ‘Nakupenda’, so it’s okay’….

IT’S OKAY TO LISTEN TO SCREAMS AND SAY IT’S OKAY?

LET’S STOP stripping and DEHUMANIZING OURSELVES. Because that’s what we’re doing.

Share wildly.

#16days of activism, #16Days4Women, #WeMenForWomen, #StripMeNotKenya, #VAG, #StateOfTheNationKE

Nyakio J. Munyinyi for the XpenSieve Report© 2014

[Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to xPenSieve© with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Headline banner design by NJMunyinyi.]

Burn That Bridge, Baby!

I had been told that it’s a bad idea to burn bridges. As in a reeeeeeeally bad idea , because, what the heck …. where do you go when things go bad on that Side-of-Green? You know that saying, 'It’s always greener on the other side of the bridge?',  well, if you cross the bridge then burn it, and things go bad, we’re told we can always ‘go back’ across the bridge, so we’re advised to desist from burning it.

I don’t dish out advice, I write of my experiences, and in my experience it’s better to burn the bridge. I wish I’d never ever heard of that particular piece of mis-advice because leaving a bridge standing to your past lets some of the worst demons cross over after you. Nothing good comes from the past if we have already decided to cross a bridge. You see, crossing a bridge in the first place means that you’ve come to a definite decision to firmly put an aspect of your life aside and begin on another.

Burn that bridge, Baby, and you know what, I’ll help you by giving you the gasoline and zippo lighter.

Burn that bridge so that the reek that you left on the other side never comes back to haunt you, ever, so that rats don’t scuttle over the bridge, bringing disease, or snakes don’t go slithering across the bridge to bring you cold fear and bite you, filling you with venom and poisoning your new life when you’re least expecting it.

Baby, BURN IT.

 …. and watch it burn so that self-doubts, second guessing, apprehension, anxiety, regrets, what if’s, qualms, skeptical friends, the heat haters - (people who can't take the heat and hate it when you can, gracefully), their kinsfolk and relatives Can't. Cross. Over.  Burn that Bridge so that nothing from the other side will  EVER COME back at you, irritating the peace out of you.

..if you ever had to choose between two lovers, I honestly hope you choose the second one and dumped the first, because if you loved the first, you wouldn’t have noticed the second… Does that make an irrational mad sense?

APPLY the same principal to the choice of crossing over. If you choose to cross and go over to the other side, don’t cross back to side A.

Here are some considerations:

It’s bad Here.

The moment you lifted your head and looked up and had time to ‘observe’ the other side, then you were not entirely satisfied with where you were at.   A guy, let me tell you a simple truth, if you’re busy on this side, you will be happy busy. Happy doing what you love, and busy loving what you do. You’re in your zone, or flow, in that place that joggers call the easy flow rhythm.,. you’re not just ‘going with the flow’ you ARE the FLOW!  Your strides are even, your breathing moderated and you’re listening to the music in your iPod and flying over ground. You don’t have time for the cars zooming past you, for the helicopter that’s flying too close to the ground, for the dog barking in that compound because it’s behind a fence…your world is the music, your feet pounding the pavement, your heart rate and the simple joy of jogging.

Mebbe jogging isn’t your thing. Fine. Choose Biking. Or Reading. Or Dancing. Or working as a Dolphin trainer. Point being: When you’re in your zone, you’re the King or Queen in Charge Of The Flow.

But if you’re not happy, your mind will wander constantly into the land of What If’s.

You’ll begin by peering over to ‘the other side’, begin dreaming, visualizing, envisaging and negotiating with your other selves about the ramifications of crossing over, and if you’re anything like me, you will cross over, come hook or crook.

And when you eventually decide to cross over and stay on TOS (THE OTHER SIDE), permanently, take a long minute to go back and burn that bridge.

See, burning bridges does a remarkable thing.

It gets rid of Mr. Justin Case. Snap.

You deal with that Lawyer dude with that ONE burning action.

Dude.

You DON’T NEED SELF DOUBT. It’s severely debilitating and it will not help you - at all  - in your new endeavors. PLUS, having a standing bridge is inviting Justin Case to stroll across with the rats and snakes. He will KEEP bringing his suits across to camp on TOS. You don’t want him in TOS.

Nope. SMH.

You don’t.

Did you say you will keep sentries at the bridge?…. remember that we’re in 2014 where Bribery Rules. Justin Case will bribe your guards and swagger over that bridge whistling a tune and probably, -  worse, catch you off guard like squish ---à knife in the back, or ‘rat-a-tat-tat-tat’ sniper fire because, well, Justin Case hates loosing.

I’m talking from experience.

You don’t need his kind  on TOS.

Burning bridges shouts out several positive statement, one which is to light the way, and the other a warning, after all, fire draws attention but it also serves as a warning – so, your bridge burning will make a bold statement, it ensures you make a stand and plant a flag on your side, it reeks of determination, it also sends a clear message of ‘don’t mess with me’.

Make a bold statement and gather your Courage. Listen to yourself – body, spirit and soul.

Gotta GO? Then GO!

Failure? What’s that? By crossing you’ve erased fear of failure, you’re on a ‘do or die mission’. Secondly, if you DO flop, (which will happen, either with exhaustion or happiness), you’ll FLOP ON THE SIDE YOU’RE ON. Why don’t people get that? You’re flopping on a higher level. You’re flopping and lying down on greener grass!

Don’t leave the bridge up.

Burn that bridge Baby, and moreover, watch it burn!

Nyakio J. Munyinyi for the XpenSieve Report© 2014

[Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to xPenSieve© with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Headline banner design by NJMunyinyi.]

Of Lies, Rumours & Savage Gossip

Of lies, rumours and savage gossip

[note: xplicit language. The words crap and shit will be substituted for gossip]

Have you ever walked in a pasture and stepped on cow shit? Or maybe just jogging - and you trod on dog poo because in East Africa we don’t walk around with mini-spades shoveling our dog poo, so the likelihood of stepping into somethings shit isn’t so unusual.

THE thing is, once you step on it, you begin to carry that stink around with you wherever you go… and despite wiping it off the edge of a pavement or on grass or trying to wedge the offending goo off with a sharp stick pulled off some poor spindly bush for purposes of cleaning your Addidas or Nike sneakers, that shit will still smell like….. shit.. all the way home…

[I know because it’s happened to me].

[not once]

Stop laughing… I know it’s happened to you…

Can you imagine stepping onto dog shit with your best shoes on your way to a date?

Hahahahahahaaaaaa…… woiyee….

#DEAD,dead,dead!

….. hmmm…infact… hmmm - and here I will ask you to let us go down a rabbit hole…

My dad used to drag  my younger brother and I , when we were teens, at least once or twice a month to his parents farm, and we developed a habit of throwing gumboots into the car boot [trunk, for you Americans who massacred the Queens English], and change into them once we got to the Farm House. On this particular Saturday, while crossing from one pasture to the next, I accidentally stepped on a fresh sticky gooey pile of cow dung. It didn’t bother me, I was a kid after-all, and my intention was to get across the pasture, to the next one, across a fallow field and into the woods - and free range cow dung didn’t smell that bad. Later, I chucked the gum boots into the car boot, same as always, for the return trip home. Horrors! The smell wafted in to the car compartment and …. Yap, my dad was 1. LIVID, and 2. We had a chilly ride back home because the windows had to be rolled down….and 3. I had to wash my own gum boots once we got home, and not simply hand them over for ‘someone else’ to clean…. Ouch, it took a lot of bar soap. [This was before my mother introduced OMO with power foam to our house…]

Hahahahahahahaaaaaa!!

So, at an early age I learnt that I had to clean up shit even Shaggy comes and pleads ‘it wasn’t me’ who dumped. If I stepped on it, well, I had to clean it.

Back to stepping on shit.

Words by Joel Osteen. Poster name: iDeclare.jpg

 This past weekend on Sunday evening, I stepped on shit, only it wasn’t cow dung or dog poo or lion’s scat, it was a nasty story that had been spread about lovely me by [duh] someone close. I say DUH because often it’s those who are close to you who really hurt you.

You can afford to give strangers the Bitch Look, one of your better fingers, and a piece of your  ____   as you swagger off!! Lol… hey, what happened to that ‘kiss my ass’ hand gesture, it’s such definitive body movement….

hahahahahaa.

But if close folks and family crap on you though, oooohhhh…… it hurts bad.

And stinks like shit.

Faces scrunch up in shock and horror, and hours later you’re probably still reeling in shock, if you haven’t already found the offending member of public and given them a piece of their own ____ right back. But meanwhile;

… it follows you around, even if you weren’t the one who had a crap in public like a feral animal.

Ouch…

So there I was, looking down at the crap I’d stepped into, or rather, in this case, HEARD, and I was like ?£$%$£, because, really, even if you’re the most SAVED person on this Earth, even the POPE would swear if he walked barefoot into that kind of crap/stinkbomb.

Like wtf and all those epitaphs, listen, I’m just being real here..

I didn’t sleep well Sunday night.

At all.

Oh no.

I tried everything: meditation, reading the middle bits of Fifty Shades of Gray, chatting with fave friends on Whatsapp, nah, the shit pong stuck. In the end I swallowed a sleeping pill and zonked out – Monday was looming like a dark dreaded shadow of gloom right in front of me so I spoke to me quietly and came to the conclusion that I should rest and figure out how to deal with the shit and the stench the next day. So yes, Sunday I slept with a sour smell in my nose…

And woke up remarkably fresh.

Well, yah, I have that habit of bouncing back into life with a spring in my step and gladness in my heart.

The Secret?

Now, what do you do when your [insert name of close person here]  says some vicious things about you? If you’re like me and just sit, plonk down, poof, on the edge of the pavement, totally confused and knocked out of breath, looking like and feeling like the crap you stepped into, then listen up.

And if you don’t do the above, still listen up!

There’s a tiny little gem of an English idiom that goes ‘let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back’.

You see, a duck is a special breed of bird. It lives on land but gets it’s food and nourishment from rivers and streams and …. Duck ponds. Wet places.

Pun unintended.

So a Duck can’t afford to drown. . .

Hence, water rolls off it’s feathers…and down it’s back.. The upper layers of a ducks feathers are waterproof. The inner layer consists of a soft down that keeps it cozily warm.

See, I just gave you the anatomy of a duck. Not hard hey?

Tee hee hee….

Now, don’t say, ‘ah, si that’s kawa?!’. No. Birds don’t like getting wet.

[ – pun again, this time intended ] - apart from Seagulls, most birds [take red bull and] fly away long before a storm hits,.. seeking shelter, huddling in nests or trees until R Kelly’s Storm is Over, because feathers get WET and heavy and hard to ‘steer’ and well, birds could stall in mid flight and crash. And unlike the LOST series, a mid-air crash is a crash that results in deathly death. Series over.

If you still don’t believe that birds and water don’t mix…

Get a hose pipe and spray a chicken….

Have you ever seen a wet chicken?

Those birds look bad. KFC ‘chicken’ look better….

R O T F L M B B A O

I mean, there’s nothing uglier than a wet chicken……!!

R O T F L M B B A O!!!

(wiping tears off my face)..

 When we’re overcome by shitty snarly gossipy untruths about ourselves, inside we may feel like those wet chickens, cold, freezing, ugly, despairing, sodden, heavy and unable to lift our wings and fly.

They are so many stories of kids in the US who commit suicide because of being bullied in school – the ‘being bullied’ meaning that nasty horrid shitty stuff is said about them to their face. Poor birds, they die.

So, what DO you do apart from smacking that B* upside down their head with a chair…?

* (bastard or bitch… choose)

Be like a duck. Let that shit  roll off you like water off a duck’s back.

Don’t brood.

1.    Don’t let that shit entertain you, meaning, don’t put on your internal TV and watch that crap gossip over and over again. NO.

2.    Don’t turn on your internal radio and repeat to those crappy words over and over again to others. NO. I don’t care if you have 20 BF’s, BFF’s, BLOOD SISTAS/BROTHERS or WHATEVER. Do NOT waste your air time = your breath, by giving nasty crap FREE REPEAT TIME FROM YOU.

3.    Don’t meditate on that shit, making crap words your mantra, repeating them 5 times every 6 seconds.

(See, it makes a difference when I describe gossip as shit or crap. It’s offensive, and it stinks)

Be like a duck. Let that shit  roll off you like water off a duck’s back

Know this. We have to live in society – that’s your water. And mine. That’s our life. Whether in the city or in rural areas or even if we’re wanders, we have to live with people, we can’t be hermits. Oh how I wish and pine for that, but it’s not possible… And while we , that’s you and I, may listen to God, to wisdom and advice, and aspire to hold and tame our tongues, desisting from rude talk, talking ill of people, or spreading gossip – sadly [S M H here], there are those who will, and Do talk ill of others.

And there will always be the recipients who will gladly listen, swallow that shit and smear it all over you..

If a duck walks away from water, it will starve. It will be miserable. If we close out society, we become unsociable. I know, we can’t win….

 But letting let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back means that whatever shit is purposely put on our paths for us to step on shouldn’t stick. Even if it’s crap that is THROWN our way. Which means WE don’t have to clean it up. Note that!

Shake it off. Let it not enter you. Let it not seep into your life and make your inner cabin stink.  Don’t let anyone put their smelly gumboots in your car boot. [ Oh sorry, TRUCK for my American readers ]  Ever.

Acknowledge the water, but don’t let it get INTO you. Ever.

Be SP - Shit Proof.

I have a duck’s bum. It’s waterproof and Shit Proof! I glide on that shit and it never sticks on me, Ever.

NJ Munyinyi, BA Dgn, SP Honors.

Nyakio J. Munyinyi for the XpenSieve Report© 2014

[Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to xPenSieve© with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Headline banner design by NJMunyinyi.]

I'm Feeling Bitchy Today!

I'M feeling very bitchy today...

It is so damn stereotypical for people to assume that if a woman is looking hot it must be because her 'man' has done something right.
Either he's treating her right …
Or he's banging that pussy daily…
Aki, I feel like swinging my chair. Hard.  In someone's face.
And hearing a crunch.
Because we women do get offended at those half-baked sentences handed out when we're looking good, or have bought a car, a plot, a house, or have achieved a tremendous goal, or just simply come to work on Monday looking fresh, fab-u-lishous and oh-so-fine, and the sentence that's spewed out is a venom coated back-handed statement masquerading as a compliment.

Oh I like your new look..

..............grab chair....

Hmm.... so, he's treating you right huh? You're looking really good!

.............gathering momentum when swinging chair.....

Oh he got you a new car? Aki your dude loves you...

............. gathered enough momentum to hurl chair....

wow, honey, you surely got some this weekend, you look so darn good..

......................hurl chair and hear satisfying crunch to head

walk away with a swagger.

Ladies, who can feeeel me?

[it’s sad that the italicized only happens in my head..but did you know the brain can’t tell the difference between what’s real and imagined? Yes, that’s why a good read can make your heart go thump thump, or a horror story keep you up at night.. so, if I swing a chair at some idiot and hear a satisfying crunch, I’ll walk away with a smile when they insult me.hehehehee… moving on]

So, tell me why I can't [yes, you... I'm pointing at you and gyrating my neck..] - so tell me why, as a gorgeous woman, why I can't - look after myself, take myself on a vacation, tour Kenya's finest lodges, buy a car or Speed-Bike AND look amazingly good -  and be SINGLE?

Why does my 'looking good' or 'doing anything positive' have to come attached with the label of MAN, or.. SHE GOT SOME?

Boys n gals, the days of the SINGLE older woman looking like a depressed, miserable wrinkled belly-touching boobs, badly dressed foul smelling, hair falling, tooth spitting hag are OVER. 

From: Sea Hag by Bryan Baugh

as in…..
OVER..

… it's such an old old-school mentality, in fact, it's in the era of Conan the Barbarian, so don’t subscribe to that RSS newsfeed. Male and female, just stop tagging yourself and your friends or posting about it. And it's not just the J Lo's and those plasticasized-surgery American stars, [not hating, just saying] who look good nowadays, it's homegrown, plastic-less, good-old GMO-LESS Kenyan Women over 45, can I hear a Woooooooo!!??

[Blame it on the water we drank back in the early 60's.]

I'm not a feminist and I don't endorse to a no-man/men are dogs society belief. I'm just a crazy woman who's always spoken her mind , and said it as it is. And one thing I'd like men and women alike to stop is this short-sighted-ness of thinking that a women will die and wither and disintegrate without a man in her life- excuse me!

Hahahahahahahahahaaaaaa.... you kno?

Feelin' Bitchy by Millie Jackson Album Art

Or that if we’re looking good now it's an invite for hyenas to come sniffing around. Dude, I look good, I'm NOT DEAD MEAT. OR WOUNDED, so stop sniffing!

eff off!

Ladies appreciate an honest compliment where and when one is due. Yes, there are Men out there who look good, know how to cook, can absolutely look after themselves, all  without a WO.

Same goes for women.  We can "Wo!"
... without the man.

Girls, where are you? Do you gots my back?

 

A word..

Single women? Yes, there's loneliness. There's also a beautiful sense of accomplishment, of achievement, of self-pride, of walking like Jane-Walker, Laura Croft-Tomb Raider efficiencyness, of  alone.ness, me-time, and loving my own company, completely wallowing in a hot steamy tub of sweet-scented self love. It's pure magic. It's also rejuvenating, taking the time and care to  lovingly soothe and nourish our souls, our bodies, our hearts.

Being SINGLE is: not being distracted by some MANs issues and history.

This statement ALSO applies to MEN. Being single is not being distracted by some WOman’s issues. Being single is learning to love your SINGLE , or ONE self, IN SHORT, being single is a fantastic opportunity to learn how to love ONE self.

I'm not a man hater. I love guys. But.. dude, you don't have to be there ALL THE TIME in order for me to be great and gorgeous... I mean, yes, it's good to have someone to be concerned about, to feed someone, love another - so as to not be selfish?
Go buy a dog.

Why the single woman? There's a thousand million reasons, each unique to the individual woman, but the thing is this - we all go through our singleness for a SEASON, whether the season is a month, a year or 10 years. And it would behove the rest of you to understand that, as contentious as it may be.

And Wives, stop being shaky jealous, mindless slugs in front of beautiful and gorgeous single women... aki. we don't want your men...

[And those single women who do KNOWINGLY go for married men are detested by the rest of us, they simply mess our reputations.... but that's another story for another day]

Meanwhile, point is...

As Wo!'s we are often exceptionally and superbly capable when the situation warrants, at other times we're just plain lazy or simply not bothered, hence we look for a dude to do the job. But, when a single woman does DO good for herself by herself, AND looks good for herself BY herself, then give her a wholehearted genuine-stamped compliment and don't go looking for a man behind or beside her!

Accept the 2014 million dollar fact. 

Single women don't always need a hand from a man...

AND…

WEAK men are the only ones intimidated by Strong Women.

FACT.

So if there’s a man buzzing about like a fly on dead meat whenever you achieve any form of brilliance greatness – smash that thing and sashay off. Really.

Girls, it doesn’t matter how YOUNG or OLD you are, you can achieve greatness just by being female. Look at the Nobel Prize Winner this year, the young girl called Malala, or look at Wangari Mathai  - you are GREAT, you are exemplary just as you are - as a woman both of these being examples of both YOUNG and OLD and non-Caucasian, and I’m sure you have some heroines in YOUR book. Go ahead, it’s not too late to BE.

DO:

Get up and feel awesome because you’re beautiful

Buy make-up and experiment with colour, shades and tones

Buy clothes that suit your body, in colour, texture and flow. Buy silk that will silky caresses your skin, soothing and pampering it, buy airy cottons that cool you down when it’s hot and cosset you when it’s cold

Walk with a swag – if you need heels, wear them! But you can swagger in low-heeled boots, sandals and sneaks too!

Exercise daily

Eat what’s right for YOU

Be intelligent and don’t hide it. Skiza, the worms will be revealed faster – worms being those who cannot cope with your intelligence. And when the worms show up – well – we’re intelligent, deal with those worms as necessary!

Be yourself on every level – Spiritual, Soul and Brainiac. Hmm? Ever thought of that?

God made you uniquely you and knows YOU – whoever your GOD is, be proud of who God made you to be and be proud of where he placed you! God made me a woman in Africa, and by GOD, I’m so effing proud to be a black African woman IN AFRICA – I’m not going to try and get away and be ‘American’ or ‘European’, that’s NOT WHO I AM.

By the way, I did - at first in my youth, oh how I hated aspects of myself! So I tried to run from myself - and didn’t that NOT work or what?!

– it doesn’t matter where you go or how far you move away from [insert ‘it’ here], you’re still you. So get away from shitty situations that don’t give you peace, yes, and get away from toxic situations, yes, but always remember that wherever you go, you’re still you. So love you. Love yourself first.

Count your blessings, every single hour. It makes a terrific difference in life. I know, I’ve practiced it in the last 11 months and the benefits are amazing! Let me tell you, there’s nothing so hot as silencing an entire room just by walking in, hahahahahahaha…. YES, I’m being bitchy, but really, counting your blessings shows up not only Spiritually and souly, but also PHYSICALLY.

It doesn’t matter how old or young you are, the above principals work for us all. Get a goal for tomorrow and stick to it. That’s it. Don’t do 6 month goals, boring, you’ll fail. Just get ONE for TODAY. Basi. Then in the evening think of a goal for the next day. ONE. Really. Why bog yourself down and tire yourself by aiming for 365 things for one day? You’re NOT SUPERWOMAN, don’t listen to what the song says, and nobody should tell you otherwise. YOU are you, so get one goal. If it’s to be EASY the whole day, then BE EASY whatever comes your way. If it’s to be HAPPY, then smile all day and be happy and look for the laugh in all you do, the whole day, whatever comes your way. It may sound incredibly hard, but it’s easy like fuck. Seriously….. hahahahahaaaa….

So, be a Bitch today. And tomorrow, and the day after that.....

 

Nyakio J. Munyinyi for the XpenSieve Report© 2014

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