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

Church: Because I am Broken

Are you broken too?

Courtesy of Klear

Picture me in church. The guy wearing a checked shirt with Khaki pants. Of course they’re matching or are they? Let’s settle on I think they are matching. And I have loafers on. Let’s talk about loafers kidogo. I have come to adore loafers recently. See with loafers you can simply slide them on without socks and it is still a kickass, probably outdated, fashion statement. And besides if you wear socks with loafers it looks weird unless you have Larry Madowo’s happy socks. Donning loafers with socks is how people in ‘Nyairofi’ tell you grew up in ‘Karima Mutiume’. And this is so because people in shagz dress in the look-at-me-I-don't-live-in-the-city way and I know this because I was brought up in ushago and I am different because the ways of the city accepted me. I became one of the city people. I changed my ways. I was turned. Does that sound like a script in an alien movie? Anywho, when I go back to ushago greet mzee and maitu heads turn my friend. Women murmur low-key about me – the kamwana who went to the big city all slim and naive and now has chubby cheeks and confidence from here to Timbuktu. I don’t know how they feel about that. Girls stare at me too. To them I am an icon of fashion and  progressive lifestyle. They tell their boyfriends to be like me. Should I vie for a political seat? Yes?

Hyperbole aside, on a normal weekday in karima mutiume you can easily get away with wearing boxers over your pants, Spiderman style. Nobody really cares. And in karima mutiume once they get wind of a ‘new’ fashion – which probably will be a year later – everyone rocks the same attire. There’s this Y person I was reminding of the karima mutiume guy starter pack; a red cap probably written ‘Chicago bulls’ (replace that with the De Matthew cowboy hat for the case of village elites), a SAVCO or equally branded jeans trouser, a pair of fake brown timberland boots, a big belt with Chuck Norris embedded on the buckle, jacket ya pumzi (what are those called in English?) and a shirt. The shirt part is hard to describe but there are usually those shirts that come in batches of a million and so every other guy has one. Yes those ones. That’s the starter pack.

Of course there are alternatives. You can choose to wear a suit. But village suits are different. They are shiny and baggy. Everyone seems to have a suit two sizes larger. Its how it has been from ancestral times. A well kept tradition. Only city-coined 'renagades' run away from it. The trousers are especially very large - the kind that can be used to make two pairs for Nairobi people. "Filthy children!", a church elder would say, "Wearing pants that barely fit them". Which is true to some extent. Now because there are not that many people over there, when Kimotho, the tailor buys a huge piece of sewing material, it means that at least 10 people will end up with the same kind of suit, with only the size being different. But they won’t care. Matching suits somehow tickle their happiness.

Ok, I am diverging too much. Back to loafers.

So on those mornings – which happen to be very frequent – when I’m late and don’t have time to get the wardrobe together I just slip them on and off I go. Just like that. Loafers are life man. PS: Putting my wardrobe together means finding a clean pair of socks.

Now back to the church story

I am standing there – sixth seat from the right and the fourth row from the front. One hand is up in the air – upper than usual. This is after I have lifted both for some time and I have to take one down to avoid severe exhaustion. And also to conserve energy just in case Pastor Ken wants us to lift them up again. He does that a lot. One hand up takes half the energy. You also need to know that I did not eat a full breakfast and so I am a little famished and drained too. Why? Because it’s Sunday. What happens on Sunday you ask? Hold that thought right there, we’ll come back to that.

So I am there, closing my eyes, its dark, and tears are edging at the corner of my eyes. I am not the teary type. Okay hold on, I know I am adding too much stuff in between but I have to let you know the only other time I tear is when cutting damn onions! But I am getting me a helmet for that which I’ll dispose off as soon as I get a bae to cut onions for me. So I am not tearing over damn onions or lost Sportpesa bets or a cold heartless dimwit that walked out of my life. No, I am soaking in worship. It’s that segment in church for kutendereza - I like the word tendereza by the way - sounds solemn and all. I am praying. Deep stuff. I even say ‘shabalabala canter njeru’ somewhere inside that prayer. It feels good. I am alilo in the spirit if you know wharamean. 

Courtesy or Relevant Church

Today I am seated next to Pastor Sang – he’s a prayerful guy. A really loud prayerful guy. And he is very straight with God. He says stuff to Him aggressively and punches his palm to make points. So when I sit next to Sang, I also get tempted to be loud. I say amen to some of his points so that God will answer to both of us. Let’s call that prayer diversification. I am not sure if Sang listens to what I pray about. I sure hope he doesn’t because I do pray about girls and last I checked Sang has a wife. Well we don’t want him polygamous do we? Not with all these prayers at stake!

Maybe God likes his zeal. Maybe He looks forward to listening to Sang’s prayers on Sunday mornings. I can imagine the conversations that take place on Sunday mornings in heaven.

Gabriel: (to God) Sang is here. He’s really praying.

God: Sang my guy! I like him. What does he want?

Gabriel: (gets a list) He is praying for peace in Kenya. They fear that Alshabab will do something crazy again. For a car, for rent money, for the CJ, for Duale, for Moses Kuria, for Duale again and rent again.

God: Not the lame Alshabab guys again. Ebu confuse them. Alafu give Sang rent money too and sober up Duale and Moses Kuria! Jeez those two need to get their acts together! Everyone is praying about them!

Gabriel: And Wesh is here too.

God: Oh, I like Wesh. Is he wearing those cool khaki pants again? Of course he is. He’s slaying much nowadays. So what does Wesh want?

Gabriel: (After listening to me for 10 minutes). He’s praying over girls again! He says he wants a bae.

God: But we gave him a bae last week and the week before that. What happened?

Gabriel: (Rolls eyes) I know. He has been curving them. The one for last week he says she talks too much.

God: Smh. Does he even need a bae now? (Checks my heart for the truth). Lol….see here Gabriel (pointing at my open heart), Wesh just wants someone to help him cut onions!

Gabriel: (Indignant look) Do we give him a bae?

God: No. Give him money for a helmet.

Gabriel: No bae? He’s your son!

God: Duh! I know he is and I know him better than anyone. No bae for now. Just a helmet.

Lets back up to why I am doing this.

“Na usisahau kuomba”. That’s how regular conversations with my mum over the phone end. She’s sweet. Never shouts over the phone. Never grumbles too. So it’s hard to ignore her request. When she asks me to pray I really have to. She says it’s for my sake and I believe her. God knows I am the chief of sinners. I am broken. Under heavenly receivership. That’s why I show up to church on Sundays. Why I care to pray every other day. Why I read the bible even when its talking about cubits length and more cubits in width. Even when it talks of people who begot other people who begot other people.

Wait, there’s the part where I don’t eat breakfast on Sunday. That is mostly because I trade it for 30 more minutes of sleep. You can never sleep enough man. So I am always on a rush on Sunday mornings to get up, shower in like zero time, slide in those cool khaki pants that God likes and loafers and to get to church. So I show up to church to talk to God and hear from Him and get unbroken, become His masterpiece and not be under receivership here (read Chase bank manenos) and there in heaven. It’s also sorta cool that God likes me and you know we have had this thing going on for some time and I cannot like let Him down. And I love being in church on Sundays. It just feels right.

Why do you go to church?