Faces of the City

One of those hella long days that suck the soul out of you. I am leaning on a family bank ATM door somewhere along Tom Mboya Street. No one goes in or out of the ATM for a while and so I don’t have to move. There’s too much activity around. Concodis shouting themselves hoarse, hawkers sprawling everywhere, young exuberant Nairobians trotting home from work or school or wherever they spent their day, beggars making the best of the rush hour traffic. I notice all these, but I also don’t. 

I was waiting for Mathree, two came and went but I never boarded because I loathe pushing and grabbing just to secure a seat – too much work. I also don’t want to queue because Kenyans voted and agreed queues suck bigtime. If you wait long enough the crowd always recedes before it builds up again and that’s how you secure a seat without breaking a sweat.  

I momentarily became oblivious as my mind wandered off to Shangri-La sorta places. Then I slowly fell into the realisation that I was staring at a particular face. It was a young woman in what I’d imagine was her mid-twenties. She was standing to my left, sturdily putting her weight against a power pole behind her. I should have been staring at her for an embarrassing amount of time. I didn’t care though – it was unintentional. I feigned a smile just to brush off the awkwardness. It was another one of those make-up faces. Now, was she offended? Was she amused? Hard to figure out as her face remained emotionless. She didn’t look away; she kept staring back as if she were studying the contours on my face, or communicating a secret NASA message by blinking occasionally, or almost the I-know-you stare, it got uncomfortable. I wanted to look away, or to tell her to stop. I also wanted to touch her face with my fingertips; to see how deep the make-up ran. I wanted to rub her eyebrows off and see if they’d come off. I wanted many things.

Sitting by the window in this loud city bus cruising at ungodly speeds along Thika Super Highway, other than say little silent prayers every time I heard an engine rumble signifying more acceleration, I couldn’t help imagine what I would say to her. Not that I wanted to but what would I actually say if my knee-jerk reaction was to make conversation? Hey, can I touch your face? Nice to meet you and your face? I swear I wasn’t staring at your face? Nice face? Is it actually legal to tell someone nice face? Like nice face buddy? I don’t know but sounds like something a face collector would say! But then my chest stiffened with certainty. I had the answer. I knew I wouldn’t ask anything because I am painfully awful with first impressions. I remember the first time I met someone that made my heart happily skip a beat. The context doesn’t matter but whatever I was doing I reversed and stepped right on her about three well-manicured small toes with my then newly-bought Timberland boots (Oh the swag days!). 

“Sorry”, I said. 

“Ouch, ouch, OUCH!”

“Aki pole”, I said again after realising I was still stepping on her despite saying sorry. 

“Nice sandals”, I added for no apparent reason.

“Kwenda uko!” she looked down, “Aki umenitoa nyama”. She exaggerated it of course.

I didn’t say much afterwards because I would be making it worse.

See bad with first impressions.

I am starting to wonder whether I am still writing about faces of the city. Let’s go back to that.

Now, Dames en heren, this write is because I have seen my fair share of incongruous faces in this town. I beg to ask what did make up do to us?

See that chic I was staring at earlier on? Let’s name her Anastacia. Her make-up was terrible.

I wonder where Anastacia thinks her beauty comes from. Does she find it in the little brushes of the kickass red lipstick she uses? In the Bobby Brown skin foundation tube? In her Kabuki eyebrow drawing kit that she bought from Jumia? Will she feel more beautiful if she buys eyelashes and shaves off her natural ones? I don’t think she used eyeliner though. As to whether that made her less beautiful perhaps I should see her use eyeliner. Are they all important to her? Does she really need them?

Before I get crucified, I know make up is a lady’s armour. Figuratively and well just figuratively. 

*Right about this point I realise it’s hard to write about make up. Where thou art Ivy. I should’ve consulted you*. 

Actually I would have wrapped this article there and mouse-dragged it to the incomplete box but hey man, my mom never raised a defeatist!

Anastacia’s face is the millionth face I might be seeing in Nairobi and for the umpteenth time another disappointing female face. Now here is the deal dudettes and niggarettes, if you are going to wear make-up please do it right. I don’t go out of my way to try and find mistakes in people's faces but if you have shaved your brows and drawn Nike ticks above the eye I will definitely see that and frown at it. If your lipstick doesn’t complement your skin tone the way Ovacado does rice then priss leave the poor colours alone. If your eyelashes are okay just let them be, and why do you need fake lashes? Like why in the world? But what do I know about those anyway, I am a dude. And then this foundation thing, well I don’t know much but please don’t paint yourself into different shades. Pink cheeks on black skin? Nope that more like using sauce on chapati, both are awesome but not a good combination.

That is about the much I know about make up but trust me the faces in this city tell it all. You can almost point out who bought their first kit last month with their first salary.

Maybe is should have said something about dudes that pimp their faces and that are not Larry Madowo or Nick Mutuma who spend half their lives staring into cameras with cameramen staring back. Who bewitched you? The narrative of an African male as far as face make-up goes is at least Arimis and at most Vaseline. 

Anywho, have you ever thought that maybe our sparkle finds its way from greater depths than make-up? That our faces are puppets of the pure and authentic springs that lie within us? I want to think that girls shine not because of the alluring gloss on the lips or polished nails or glittering chains but rather because of virtue and strength of character founded on certainty of identity and generous batches of hope that life hands each one of them. 

So next time you stand before the mirror and make up a face for the world, work on the inside first. Work on the lips but find the smile first. Learn to draw the brows but gain sight of your depths first. See the foundation on the outside would mean more if the inner foundation of the girl is rock solid. And the red lipstick is lustrous much but what beats a warm charming heart of someone who knows their way? Nothing.

I bet if y’all did this and men kept their Arimis thing going, our faces would make more sense. Genuine smiles. Intentional stares. Likeable too. 

Likeable faces in the city.

Fire away; Ricochet is Life!

Ricochet is life!

A man can only stand so much. There is that kapoint at which all guys will break. It matter not if they are at the ‘mama-I-made-it’ level or the ‘started-at-the-bottom-and-now-just-a-little-bit-from-the-bottom’ level. They all break. Shouldn’t I be saying we? Yeah, there is the point at which we all break. This is a point where a tailspin ensues. Its odds of happening are low but just like hitting your toe against the table where you’re barefoot, it does. I have seen it happen to many even those that claim to be lion-hearted nsht.

A rent-money bet goes south because Arsenal is lame and a bitter Arsenal fan snaps. A loan-car is overturns during one of those wild nights and someone sobers up and snaps. A dream-job is lost and someone yells at their boss then snaps. A small toe is hit against the table and someone snaps (Okay ignore that one). A fiancé walks away and someone swears they’re okay then they snap. Well I think it’ll get boring if I write any more ‘snaps’ so I’ll just hope you get the point.

I think you could feel his fingers trembling. Like hear the little microbaroms as they race through the air past your ear. He was awfully nervous. From watching too many CSI episodes I could tell his pupils were dilated. *Hey Felly dilated pupils just mean the nervous system is beginning to suck at being a nervous system. Seems unbelievable much, yes? Well, this is a true story. I actually used my phone’s screen to get a reflection of the guy seated behind me and I could see his eyes. And this was kedo one month ago when I was *cues in Nameless, I’m coming hoooome! Home where I beloooong! Narudi Nyumbani! Nyumbani! Yeeeah!, Get it? C’mmon I was going home. I was pretty excited to go see my folks after bursting my butt in the city for couple of weeks without showing up home. My cue for going home is when mum calls ‘just to say’ "Umetutupa sana”.

I was using one of those Northrift Shuttles. Just so you know these are the next best travel alternative to owning a moti if you’re going to my Ushago. If word gets to the village that you use them then you’ll be classified in the same ‘whos n whos’ list as the Chief, the MCA, the priest, the one guy with more than 10 cows and the corky guy at the water pump who decides when everyone gets their water. Those Shuttles (I know this is a strong word for a mathree but hey we’re in Kenya) carry only 11 of you at a time and don’t stop there at sijui Giciengo for people to pee only for all of you to get pick pocketed. They stop at fancy places and some smoky places with heavenly roast meat – Kikopey that is. Well not that Kikopey is fancy and all but at least no one will ‘beat you’ Ngeta there. Then they have this mouth-watering Choma that you should only eat in manageable quantities and with pilipili or else have to make too many ‘very urgent’ stops afterwards. I don’t want to say that you’ll have to be constantly looking for bushes where you can do some ‘quick business’ and that people will see you and that one of those people will be a blogger and that the blogger will fail to resist the urge to not write about it in their blog and that you will be embarrassed when the story finally comes out about the guy in a suit doing it in the bush there near Gilgil.

Who knows, you may even get chased by those Zebras idling around the Delamere farm. And just be aware that if we see you being chased by a Zebra from a bush where you went to do it with your pants down we will take the pictures and use them to educate our kids about places not to do it. Alright! Enough of that.

So this guy was fidgeting a lot with his phone. He started calling. He called Lenard who I think was his client. Then he called another dude and I know this because Infinix (and Tecno) phones have no privacy. A heartfelt apology to the Tecno-Infinix gang I mean well you knowJ. And the dude I kinda figured out was a loan guy. He called more people for what seemed like an hour. Then viola he snapped. He was all over the place. He sounded bitterer than the barefoot guy who has hit his toe against the edge of the table. You could feel the tension strangling the air in the mathree as he fiddled with the phone, cursed slowly, then loudly, then said a lot of f's! He forced conversation with those two chaps seated beside him. 

“Maisha ni ngumu nanii…” he said at one point. “Yaani mimi sijui ata ni kisirani gani hii….” 

Nobody talked. 

Then this guy on the right says “vitu hukua hivo” and I think that was the cue for our guy. He profusely protested about his business sucking at being a good business, his lorry being tied to a loan and him wanting to sell it secretly and the loan agency discovering this and refusing with it and him being broke and everything crumbling on top of him. At least that is the much I got from his rant which is impressive since I was also listening to Gilad and akina Zidi the Band through earphones. And either way I am not a particularly nosy person.

I should also let you know that shuttles have an unspoken code of conduct. Like the part where you mind your own business and not disturb your neighbor by humming or singing or coughing suggestively or smelling bad (this one mostly) or staring or making loud phone calls and pretending to be really important. The exception is if you’re humming the Game of Thrones’ theme song, that or the national anthem. These are very important codes since shuttle people pay kedo 200 bob above those regular mathree fares. They pay for such luxuries. So see how the snapping dude was violating all of them? I mean who gives a hoot if you’re broke and having a breakdown in a public vehicle and shouting out fucks? Shady right? A big boo to you if you thought of yes. Why you ask? Well because he is a guy who has seen the naked wrath of the evil breaking point for guys! Ladies you may not understand this but just picture your equivalent of a man’s sweatiness, agility and ruggedness which are supposed to help you withstand such primal tides being trodden upon like they don’t exist.  

And talking of smelling bad I beseech ye brothers of mine to wear cologne. I honestly don’t know why you’d be comfortable smelling like you were the one getting goats into Noah’s ark whereas you have a white collar job The exception is the beloved Kenyans that work in the mjengo industry.

So that feeling of powerlessness foaming up after these tailspin moments twists guys and renders them insanely unstable. Here, I found a better example for you ladies – just imagine what happens in the few seconds of sleep paralysis happen to you for a day – a year – a decade. It is scary as hell. More like spending your whole life rigor-mortised. That’s how men feel when they cannot influence anything.

I don’t know how things turned out for our nameless guy but I am sure he’s somewhere savoring life right now. Unlike the guy who hit his toe against the edge of the table.

Okay allow me to say this first. I hit my toe against the edge of my table. The pain was excruciating yaani hadi I had to take a nap. So I am repeating the phrase all over as part of the psychological path to recovery. (*Kay this is the part where I stand in that ka-therapy room and say “My name is Wesh” | Audience: slow wave – Hey Wesh! | “and I am afraid of my table:)”).

Haya moving on.

You know what happens when people snap? They get their head back in line. I know some give in but most of us finally apply those breath-in-breath-out P.E. lessons and get our composures back. Trust me I have been at that point where I wanted to pack my bags and go back to the slopes of Menengai and become a farmer who lives alone in a ramshackle hut in a very big farm that I’ll till until kingdom come. But here I am still in the city.

Reason? Well, it’s simply because (I) we’re hopeful of better days. We become resilient after our breaking points. I can imagine that nameless guy who was ranting in the shuttle updating his twitter feed with “I survived #Teamthickskin #Unbroken #LionHeart” and a couple of emojis. I am also not sure if he knows that Titanium song but he’d be jamming to it all night long and being a not very good singer murder it when he screams “I am titaniuuuuuum!” from beneath his shower because having lost his income-generating lorry he can’t surely afford to be in a Jaccuzi ama?

Why also do you think Lunjes move a lot? Like move with their furniture nsht upcountry but then realize life sucks even more over there and so come back with their beloved furniture again? It is because of resilience. Refusing to be bowed by life. Being thick skinned.

It is because for me, for them and all the resilient gang out there ricochet is life.

Go bigger, get better!

The Tale of Spongebob

I have this friend, whose name I will withhold. *just in case what I’m about to write comes back to bite me dans le derriere*. We’ll christen him SpongeBob to avoid monotonous pronouns throughout. So SpongeBob is a guy in his mid-twenties that just graduated; lucky for him, he got a considerably good job that gives him a healthy balance between passion and pay. Lucky lass aye?

The life of SpongeBob is characterized by ‘millennial setbacks’; namely SINGLEHOOD.

He, just like many other millennials believe it is their right to be in a relationship. Those are the people who when asked their hobbies, top their list with socializing (flirting), then eating (going on dates), then having fun (…..).*I assume by now your eyes are open, fill in the blanks*. 

*this is where I drift kidogo*

 

If you want to know you’re a millennial and shame on you if you are one and were born in the 1900s; to you #RelationshipGoals have become more important than career goals, having a beard is cooler than having a talent, status is taking a mirror-selfie with an iPhone…forget about professional portfolios.

And by the way…you with the selfie-phone! Sharing Friday pics mkihappen; only to post a selfie at 7.30am on Sunday with the caption God is good, Blessed Sunday, let’s go to church. Take a whiff of an empty sulfuric acid bottle then repent, it’s better than an eternal swim in it.

Enough drifting. 

SpongeBob has both been a fool and unlucky where women are concerned. Once, when he didn’t know me very well, he approached me after a concert and said, “You know Ivy, it’s good to seize opportunities as they come. Don’t regret not making the right choice.”

“SpongeBob what do you mean?”

“I think I’ve already shown how much I care about you…

*Having met me two days before and paying my fare worth 30 bob* …you know when you’re with me, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. Hao vijana wasikudanganye, they just want you for your body but I think you have a nice voice.”

“So you want me for my voice?”

“I didn’t say that. Ai… hahahaha lakini you know how many ladies want me? That’s why I’m saying seize this opportunity, you might regret later.”

This guy didn’t even deserve my blessed rejection; there are some people you just don’t say no to. Not because they deserve a yes, but because your words are too sacred to utter to just anybody that treats you like a Burberry sheep. So you walk away humming Holy Ghost fire melodies.

Funny how we became friends later and he began to trust me with his relational issues. One time he left work and came to my campus to see me. So he sent people looking for me because he tried calling and well, you know when hardworking students go to the library they put their phones on silent and focus on their reading.

So he did something smart. Sat at the gate and waited for me to pass. “Ivy, Ivy…Hi, why don’t you pick calls? Been looking for you.”

“Pole, what do you need?” *straight to the point*

“I’m confused. There’s a girl I really like but recently found out we come from the same village. What do I do?”

“Talk to your pastor.”

“I just want your opinion, so I’m asking around then I go to him” (whatever happened to texting)

“Okay, I think you should see your pastor because he’s better equipped to handle such. That’s my opinion”

“I told my mum and she says I should find out the name of my girlfriend’s father to know if we are related. Her last name is ….. And my last name is ……”

(Do you see what this guy is doing? even after giving him my opinion? Kumbe he had answers)

*for shame*

“That’s really good advice, go and see your pastor he’ll give you more counsel.”

“Yeah, I’m worried because she wants to break up with me…” Aki at this point I just got tired and allowed him to go on and on about the exodus of his relationship till he was done.

“I don’t know what to tell you SpongeBob. AGAIN, How about you go to your pastor? With your girlfriend maybe? Text me about it. Good luck.”

Eventually he went to see his Pastor, but that incident and others before got me thinking… this guy doesn’t know how to cope with rejection. He doesn’t move past it. Why had he come all the way to get my opinion on something his dear mother addressed already? Why is he looking for opinion? Or is it gratification he seeks?

When a chick rejects you or some guy dumps you, the best thing to do; is cry because your life is over and no one will ever admire your stupid common face because it’s ugly.

Alternatively, you could come to the realization that it’s not your responsibility to be beautiful and without flaw for someone else. You are not alive for that purpose. Your existence is not about how desirable one finds you *Warsan Shire*. Circumstances like SpongeBob’s may come that separate you from people you want to be with; let them go. Live life as God has given it to you, enjoy it; with or without people. Feel but heal.

So hit on better and don’t settle for people in the league of your ex. For me I get disappointed when I bump into an ex and they introduce me to a girlfriend that doesn’t dress better than I did and or speaks like their brain is filled with Styrofoam. Go bigger, get better! It’s the best thing you’ll do for (against) your ex. It’ll hurt their feelings :) 

                                                                                                     Written by - Ivy Stephanie