My rant; I am confused.

Late last year a certain lady told me that she was leaving her boyfriend due to the fact that he was more in love with his brew than he was in love with her. She was visibly frustrated that despite his well paying job, there was one more month at the end of his salary. He wound blow it all in two weekends and then resort to begging and borrowing from his lady. He was later hospitalised for imbibing on some illegal drug and his own family gave him a cold shoulder while he was in his hospital bed. As all these transpired, she super glued by his side but with the intention of chucking him. Well, as you read this, she is expectant with his baby. Never left him and won’t leave him.
Call it love or what, I do not know.

Tell me, is this love? Is it love when a wife leaves her matrimonial bed for another man and her own man turns a blind eye? Is this love when the wife turns alcoholic to the point of staggering home with barely a cloth on her and yet her man never touches any bit of liquor? Is this love when an otherwise sane, collected and composed girl falls in love with the bad boy with less than half her education? Picture this; there is this lady or girl for that matter who dropped out of University of Nairobi in her second year in order to get married to the well known neighbourhood thief, three years her junior and with a class five qualification. Is this love? You tell me. Eeh? Her mother went insane and was inconsolable. I mean, were the words of this young man so enticing and music to her ears? It begs more questions. Did this mean that this young man had juicier words than the well read guys in her class or university for that matter? Or was she a fluke to university? This is a true story. I witnessed it first-hand. Ask me.

Tell me; is this love when a sane man leaves his wife a broken woman in order to find solace in the arms of a woman known to entertain many a man ‘down there’? Is it love?

No wonder love is a hard thing to understand. This is because some are driven into it by many factors while some (me included) are driven away from it by the numerous ‘What Ifs’
Love is a hard nut to crack with a tasty inside or so I am told or witnessed for that matter. Problem is, most of us are yet to identify the nut with the best and tasty content. As youth, we are left to grapple with the heart wrenching task of the slobbery kissing frogs and the elusive Cinderella.
While at it, some begin with a sweet taste only for it to end in tears, ulcers, heartbreaks and heartburns for that matter. Going insane is in there too. Talk of going berserk and many couples and children have lost their lives in cases of love gone sour. It was sweet on the onset, but turned sour as time went on.
At the start of the love, it was all rosy full of gifts and sweet words. Later on the sweet words and gifts became a matter of life and death.

Tell me, who on earth has the blueprint to the right level of love, the right quality and quantity of love, the right degree that love out to burn without scalding or scotching, the right level of the right things that call for the right level of love.
Tell me. What is this phenomenon? Huh?

It is like taking a leap into an abyss..

 

LOVE IS...

Love doesn’t always make you happy. But it makes you better. Sometimes happy but also at times unhappy. Because love knows that its central function in your life is to help you grow. Growth hurts. After all, many people have come up with songs on love. It is that powerful. It could be that feeling in your stomach whenever you see or hear your significant other. Or even the clammy palms. Yeah. Love is want. Love is need.

Love is impossibly imperfect.
Love always pays the bills on time but could forget your anniversary. It gets you frozen yogurt on the way home but forgets and leaves it in the car. May refuse to change the baby’s diaper but will spend hours rocking the baby to sleep. It may not write you poems or give romantic speeches but when you’re sad, it suddenly says that one right thing. It rarely thinks to buy you flowers but always thinks of ways to appreciate you

Love tries.
Love is forgiving. Love lets you get away with a lot. But not all. It grants forgiveness before you ask, but oftentimes makes you say sorry anyways, because it’s good for you to be humble. Love knows it will hurt you or fail you too. Love fails, time and again, but believes every next minute is a new chance to get it right.

Love is forgetful.
It forgets old words, the old hurting words and old wounds. And even when it remembers, it also remembers to stay kind. Love has the worst fight of your life with you and then, right after, shares a cold coffee and even shares a packet of chewing gum.

Love understands your weaknesses.
 It doesn’t mock that you are scared of cockroaches in her kitchen or that you scatter your socks all around. Even if you left your room untidy as if a hurricane swept through it, love understands. It knows you have to drink your tea really, really hot. It will expect you will complain about your burnt tongue later. Love will be patient as you ask for five more minutes that later turn out to be a whole half an hour. It will be quiet when you don’t feel like talking. It will laugh uproariously at your lame jokes during a party to save you from embarrassment.

TO BE CONTINUED…

My Rant On Public Display of Affection.

For those in the dark about what PDA is, it is Public Display of Affection. This is when a couple with love and affection swirling and twirling in their heads decide to show all and sundry how they feel about one another. You may as well be aware of the public displays disaffection, disregard for human life like the human butchers we hear around and about. I mean, what father gets a machete and butchers his own kids, flesh and blood in a horror blood bath? 5 kids? Ah! That’s a topic of another day.

I meant to rant about PDA. 

Back to PDA, My ken relays that it is a range of behaviour that runs the extent from holding hands, hugging in public or even kissing. As you are aware, this open form of displaying affection is frowned upon here in Kenya and I guess, also in this wide Africa. Though you might see the occasional person hold the hand of his partner in public or give a brief kiss but hardly will you see two people engage in a kiss-fest in public where the tongues are engaged in fencing and entwined in the romantic bliss of bacteria exchange and let their saliva become one so to say. If and when liberal cases of PDA are witnessed in public you should not be surprised to have people ogling at you and your partner in crime. Who knows, you may even be lynched. No. that may not happen. But you may not survive being berated by a vexed public.

I don’t want to say that PDA is not in our culture because I am sure there are probably traditional forms of PDA. Perhaps when a wife brings food to her husband and kneels down before him and says in front of the visitors, ”My husband food is ready” she is engaging in a time honoured ritual of displaying affection for her man. Perhaps when the husband is given a chieftain's title and the wife is the one who shouts the loudest at the conferment ceremony that might be her own way of displaying affection in public. When a man beats his chest in front of the village and proudly celebrates the birth of his new son or daughter in a naming ceremony with his wife beaming by his side perhaps that is a public display of affection. When his wife dies and the man observes the ritual rites or if the man dies and his wife rolls on the ground as in some cultures and wails loudly perhaps that is a public display of affection. Maybe I am getting ahead of myself. When a young man spies a young lady for the first time when she is fetching water by the stream and he proceeds to escort her in a snail’s pace or even corner her by some thorns under the falling dusk is his form of PDAs. There he will be telling her that if she agreed to be his wife, he will buy her the longest and most colourful shawl she ever saw. Or even have her bank account bulging. After all, who does not love money?

I strongly think that in our African way of things, the men we usually see walking some distance ahead of their wives is as a result of the ingrained school of thought that a real man walked ahead of his wife so as to ensure that the way was safe enough for his queen. He was to look out for hyenas and even the lions that lurked within and without. A real African man never held his wife’s hand or even hugged her let alone a simple peck on the cheek. He had to portray the macho image that he is.

Come to think of it, I have never engaged in any act of PDAs that is if the occasional hug is anything to go by. Perhaps I am still as conservative as my grandfather. Who knows? This is because I never or rarely initiate a hug. Hapana!

Don’t even think of giving me a peck in public and so on. I would probably sweat blood!! This is because when it comes to such, I am still socially awkward somewhat. Come to think about it, the first time I held a girl’s hand in public it was as though electricity was coursing through my veins and I was an insulator that was bound to get burnt due the resistance I was posing to the current she was passing through me. My mouth was desert dry, a heartbeat as fast as a Formula 1 engine and sweaty palms that were enough to wet a table. The first time I kissed a girl in public… Ah! I have never done that! Thank God!

You can’t blame me either. I grew up in a house where my parents weren’t the PDA type to each other anyway and probably not in front of me. I got all the hugs and kisses I needed not to be a psychopath and to be a generally likeable guy. All I saw of them was the hugs they exchanged. Just that. No more. I was in this mindset that hugs were to be shared between husbands and wives. Naïve me.

Pet names like sweetie, pumpkin, honey and the overused sweetheart were as rare as witnessing a donkey being milked. I recently overheard them use the word ‘Dear’ though I have no idea if it qualifies as a pet name. After all, even letters to our bosses begin with Dear…

Anyway I am sure a lot of folks did not grow up with parents who always held hands, kissed all the time and called each other pet names but I bet a lot of folk’s parents have been together for a long time. That must be love. Right? Wrong? After all, divorce rate is on the rise among these folks with this syndrome of PDAs. Wrong? Right?

Getting a lifetime partner and the what-ifs.

If there is one thing that revolves round my head every few days is the thought of finding a lifetime partner. Yes, one to marry. This is because I have never fathomed what runs or gnaws a person’s head till a decision is made that person X fits the bill of a wife or husband for that matter.
This puzzle or whatever it is made me ask some colleagues at work how they came to that AHA moment.
One told me that as soon as I find the ‘one’ I would instantly know. Huh? Instantly? That to me sounds like love at first sight and I don’t subscribe to that notion. 

Another told me that their marriage happened by default. By default, it means that they got so tangled in their lover’s hands and warm embrace and before they could shout or whisper the word stop, a baby was lying between them. That ‘default’ is not an ideal way to get a life partner. Heavens no. this is because it could bring with it a host of problems later on in life. The words here is COULD. For instance, I know of a couple whose marriage is in the rocks due to this default status. By the time they realised that they were not emotionally compatible, they were already ‘genitally’ compatible. That to me is the proverbial cart before the horse. Or is it not?
Don’t get me wrong here. Some may have begun with the cart ahead of the horse and righted things later on and live in marital bliss or so it seems. That is where my puzzle begins.

You see, my fear and puzzle is that we are all human and with that, comes unpredictability. A pleasant YES today could undergo metamorphosis into a barrage of a NO after another.
So, it would be great and exhilarating to find out that my life partner to be could come with user defined settings. Or better still, with a great DEFAULT status.

Since am now in my late 20s, marriage moved house from the back burners to the constant conscious desire of looking out for the lady that will perhaps fit the bill. So far so bad.
Picture it this way that at the moment, am in this forest in search of firewood and I have identified this great looking tree. The problem however lies with the reason that this tree is over at the horizon and there is this great divide that stops me from accessing it with my axe. All I can do is watch and wait. Praying with an occasional fast and I think that the fast has to be more frequent!!

My puzzle or fear of marriage is that I subscribe to the institution of thought that a burnt child dreads fire. I have not been burnt but I have plenty of living examples to warrant the fear of this FIRE.
My fears are like what if I am holed up with the wrong entity for the rest of my life? What if I have effectively blocked the RIGHT one with this one seeming so CONVENIENT but not so IDEAL?
What if this person has some weird school of thought that would make me the laughing stock among my peers?
What if I held on longer in wait, would I have hit a larger jackpot?
What if this person turns out to be an epitome of an ogre or witch for that matter?
What if this person will later on get an affinity to acts like infidelity?
What if she flees me in the not so rosy times?

Do not blame me. I am still trying to find a firm footing in this world of relationship.

I think marriage is a feat that should have its certificate signed at its end. Not before it is even a day old.

In the meantime, my search goes on.

Understanding Women

A friend of mine wrote a piece on understanding women and I was like; why not my own piece? The same saying has stuck with me through my many years of observation of the female of the species. I remember a friend of mine who used to state that he knew all about women. He was newly married and had it all figured out. Some weeks later he came in and announced that they were going to have a baby. I told him that his real knowledge on understanding women had just begun.
 In my short or long span of life (depends on your angle of view), I am amazed at the way women approach life. I’ll start with some comparisons of men and women shopping then move on to other observations. A man will go in and buy a white shirt without breaking a sweat. A white shirt in the right size and he’s out of there; just like that! A woman goes in to buy a white blouse, and the fun begins. The colour white now takes on meanings that stagger my imagination. There is Ecru, Anti-flash white, antique white, Beige white, Blond white, Cornsilk white, Cosmic latte white, Cream white, Eggshell white, Floral white, Ivory white , Seashell white, Snow white, Ghost white and even the common yet so hard to know White smoke ad infinitum. Don’t ask me how I know all that. Ask Google! Now the question of style comes in to play. Does it go with the current styles? Does it hide various figure flaws or accentuate the desired body parts? Does it match my handbag and my shoes? Is it the right season for this look? O.K the blouse is finally purchased. Is this it? Not on your life. Since the colour was not just exactly right there is nothing to do but shop for accessories that will match. And the circle starts all over again!

A man goes to the store with one thing in mind, get what you need and get out. A woman approaches the store as you might approach a trek Mount Kenya. There are new things to see, every corner of the supermarket must be explored for new adventures. Then suddenly around the next turn is a SALE TABLE containing the treasures of the ages. In another location a crowd has gathered, curiosity must be satisfied and so, off she heads to the crowd. There must be terrific buys to attract that many people. The amount of curiosity is directly proportional to the size of the crowd.

Men have you ever been standing in line to pay and suddenly without warning your wife or girlfriend or even the stranger-in-line gets a shopping urge and makes a U-turn back into the Supermarket? She says “I’m just going to run right over here and get something. I’ll be right back”. The words “right back” now take on a new perspective in the space time continuum. This seemingly harmless term now represents a time of from 30 seconds to infinity. You have no choice but to wait and wait and wait. Customers in line with you are now restless. A vigilante group is being formed; there is even talk of lynching! Hehe!  All you can do is wait while fearing reprisals from angry shoppers behind you. They have just purchased ecru blouses in 40 different shades and need to get to the next store to accessorize. It’s becoming an ugly scene.

Before we leave the world of shopping we cannot ignore the QUEST. I have really never figured out what triggers the quest, I guess I just don’t understand. Sometimes a woman will decide that there is a particular item that she must have. Now the quest begins. No matter how insignificant the item is there is no turning back until it is found and purchased. Spending Ksh 1,000 of petrol to find a Ksh 100 of a blouse is of no consequence, it is after all a QUEST for truth and righteousness. These quests make the search for the Holy Grail fade in significance.

Some of the terms we commonly use to communicate have totally different meaning when used by women. For instanced the term “YOU ALWAYS” is common to refer to some character flaw of the male subject. E.g. you always never call me, You always ignore me, You always….
This term taken at face value means something that has been repeated many, many times. Used by a woman it can mean that this disgusting behaviour has happened from one to maybe three times utmost.
 The war of words between men and women is not a real battle it is a matter of learning to understand the jargon women use to emphasize their position. So men gird up your loins and enter into the fray with kindness and patience. Because; if you could understand women, you wouldn’t believe it anyway

:(