Valentine's Shebangs

Now that Valentine's Day Matters

I don’t remember Valentine’s Day mattering as much as a library at the start of a semester. Well, now it has become a pretty big ‘comb-to-a-Daniella-weave’ deal; because, just like Daniella weaves, Valentine’s Day stresses people and makes many women look bad.

Looking good is all that matters to a woman though, after her social media accounts and what people think and say about her *I however would like to be exempted from this generalized statement*… the better part of which is true.

I remember the first time I was taken out on a valentine’s date, which was also my very first date *proper date*. I was very broke! 

I would like to point out though, Guys need to stop complaining how ladies get late for dates, ama sijui want Kempinsky food and Jimmy cab rides to and fro, then Cold Stone rainbow ice-cream cakes with 6 Oreos and a FroYo.

That’s basically a chini ya maji refund after the financial implications of getting acrylic nails done, all to please you, her man. The 6 Oreos are for the nail art plus that body con dress she wore; which you have never seen her rock before… that made you take 20 selfies in PUBLIC! Then quickly, posted the pics on Instagram and Pinterest and left your data connection on the whole night expecting ‘thoties’ to comment on how blessed you are but really you just want that yellow-yellow jealous after the way she dumped you*insecure*. Boy, you even for the first time used the hashtag LoveOfMyLife.

If it fit right in all the fundamental places that cloth was not bought from a Garissa stall that is behind a bar as you negotiate a corner at an ‘Isili’ fruit and suitcases market*I know my spellings, Eastleigh*. No honey, that dress *was probably rented* was definitely bought online. I would be meticulous with my clad choices, my stilettos, hand bag, coin purse, note purse, hair clip, earrings, perfume, lipstick choice and accessories to the detail.

Then the first thing nigger dare say on seeing this mami is “unapenda kuchelewa sana”. Honestly dude, I really don’t care *in writing* if I am an hour late. Do you know how long nails take to dry? Or mascara? Do you know how long it takes to set make-up or pin up a neat bun? 

Then when you finally see me off at the end you’re all, “Baby, you looked really lovely today. I like your eyes and the way you smile.” Thanks a lot! You told me that last week when we bumped into each other at the INDIMANJE Sacco stage…the one next to the kanjo toilets at Bus Station. How about a complement on the hair I just did which took about 2 hours?

That is why you deserve a great big handshake and a wave after the date.

On the other hand, aside the acrylic nails and body con dress; being broke when you have a date coming up, especially on valentine’s is very stressful. On that particular week as I recall, I looked my worst. I for some reason had a bad case of acne two days before the date that I could not with all of mother nature’s Gingko Biloba, Aloe Vera, Tea tree, roots, plants, leaves and soil get rid of. I did eggs, avocado, lemon, honey… you name it! Now I know that it takes time *a month if you’re lucky* to treat acne; No amount of dermatological zapping can take it all away in a day. 

I had just completed High School and my style was all over the place, I hardly had pants that could fit; because I lost a tremendous chunk of pig weight trying to score an A *which I did, mostly*. Of course my hair looked terrible but it was pretty long, so I found my way around that but I did what every other girl would do in my situation, Borrow! I even had to ask my friends to borrow from their friend’s-cousin’s-wives. Desperate!

I really wanted to do a glam dress by the way but at the end I could say I looked the part for a day in Nairobi’s wildlife park; Chiffon *mine*, rubbers *gifted after all the borrowing* and jeans *borrowed* and had lots of fun but never called the guy back. *Everybody went and got rubber shoes after that*

A guy who points out very little flaws in your outfit and makes a big deal out of them, that’s no guy to call back.

A guy who is working and expects his school-going-girlfriend to look like million dollar Beyoncé that’s no guy to call back.

A guy who tells you how beautiful you look after the date, that’s no guy to call back and especially that guy who compliments another woman during the date *he was checking her out*, that is definitely not a guy to call back.

Like I said at the beginning a woman’s looks matter very much to her. So dear gentlemen, for valentine’s maybe buy your lady shoes and a dress then take her out for a picnic at Machakos People’s Park. And just like that you can become that romantic future husband.

Love and Love,

Stephanie

Here're my favourite kind of people

Who has your back?

I have a favorite kind of people. The list is not very long but it is very solid. There’s a criteria that allows people to get into this list. Pretty like the vetting process in government. And sometimes there are reshuffles to the list. I am very free and fair too; I don’t rig people into the list. You somehow have to earn your way in there. What are some qualifications you ask? Let’s roll back a bit.

I am in primary school. Life then was really good. Like really fun and all – before bills kicked in. So at the end of every school term we would fight - much of a tradition then. Fights were picked with people your own size. I picked a certain guy – call him Enoch. So this is how fights went down, first, you had this thing called “njata” (a stick balanced on the dorsal side of the hand) that your opponent was supposed to make fall. Then, immediately the njata was fallen the fight would ensue amidst the cheer of the pack. Of course the cowardly couldn’t dare destroy the opponent’s njata. In such a case your opponent got a free heroic pass whilst you made the walk of shame home. And you couldn’t get any girls to like you thereafter. Third, your boys were allowed to jump in the fight if they felt you were going to lose. They had your back – always.

Which reminds me of the bro-code’s article 2, article 38 and article 147. Article 2 says A Bro is always entitled to do something stupid, as long as the rest of his Bros are doing it. Article 38 says Even in a fight to the death a Bro never punches another Bro in the groin. And Article 147 says if a Bro sees another Bro get into a fight, he immediately has his Bro's back. Exception: If his Bro has picked a fight with a scary looking guy. Exception: If this is the third fight (or more) his Bro has gotten into that week. Exception: If the Bro has a note from a physician excusing him from having anybody's back. 

So we fought even though it was stupid (article 2) and we had rules about where to punch (article 38) and most important we jumped into each others’ fights (article 147). So in my fight with Enoch, I was ALMOST defeated but akina Marvin joined in and saved the day. We were pretty hurt that day and we ended up being forced to kneel a whole three hours when our teacher – we called her Nyako – found out. I think it was worth it – the experience not the kneeling. 

This gives you an idea of one of the qualifications I use. I like people that I can count on to have my back. People who are genuinely loyal; the kind that sticks in peace and turmoil; the kind that will be there when you’re broke and when you're doing well; the kind that will still come over when the Wi-Fi isn’t working. These are my favorite kind of people. I call them my friends. 

Like those fights we had as kids, we still have fights in life. We have wires to walk, milestones to achieve and nights to brave. As a guy in his early twenties, I have come to realize I can never get to pull through alone. I need support. I need people I can count on consistently. Gladly I have them. They are the ones on the list. So let me ask, who are your favorite kind of people?