I was tagged by some strong willed people, to ignore them would be dangerous, so here we go with 7 things. Not 7 things you do not know about me which would just be boring especially as I shared 6 things you do not know about me just the other day. So instead here we go with:
7 random thoughts from that blogger called Mentalacrobatics
- I find it amazing how many single women in Kenya wear a wedding ring on their ring finger. The few I know tell me they do that to scare away the seedy and slimy men that approach them. That doesn’t make sense to me. Seedy and slimy men will not be scared away by a wedding ring. In fact if anything that just increases your appeal to such characters. However, all decent, honourable and normal guys once they spot the wedding ring will keep a respectful distance in the courting game. A wedding ring is like kryptonite to single men, believe me. Then the same Kenyan women complain that there are no suitable men around to marry! Well remove the fake wedding rings and then see what happens!
- It is unbelievably hard to get some people to put a simple and small piece of code on their blog. These are not the people who do not know how to upload the ringcode. Those ones usually ask for help. Rather it is mainly experience bloggers who for one reason or another can not be bothered to upload the ringcode yet want to be counted as a KBW member. The excuses they give are many, for example: I don’t have time (it takes less than 20 seconds), It is to big (the ring code is about 1 byte big) it doesn’t fit in with my template (you can format the font to your hearts content so long as it can be read and clicked) . excuses excuses excuses. I believe the reason they have this attitude is because it is so easy to become a KBW member. If we charged USD 50.00 per month and insisted on 10,000 word blog posts weekly to qualify for membership, they would probably have the ringcode up, with flashing lights, in an instance.
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We all have our pet peeves, the little things that irritate us. One of mine is when people wrongly interchange the terms hacker and cracker. For those who do not know:
A hacker is a person intensely interested in the arcane and recondite workings of any computer operating system. Most often, hackers are programmers. As such, hackers obtain advanced knowledge of operating systems and programming languages. They may know of holes within systems and the reasons for such holes. Hackers constantly seek further knowledge, freely share what they have discovered, and never, ever intentionally damage data.
A cracker is a person who breaks into or otherwise violates the system integrity of remote machines, with malicious intent. Crackers, having gained unauthorized access, destroy vital data, deny legitimate users service, or basically cause problems for their targets. Crackers can easily be identified because their actions are malicious.
At least have the decency to know what you are accusing someone of before you go banging on about it over and over again.
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Every relationship reaches a point where you think, hmmmm, this could actually work, or alternatively, damn, this will never work. For me that point usually comes during an unexpected crisis and how the other person reacts to it.
For example, having a puncture is inconvenient, having a puncture at 3am in the still of the night, is scary, having a puncture at 3am in the still of the night on a dark stretch of Thika Road notorious for muggings and carjacking is a bloody crisis, even more so when you are with a date you are trying to impress! There I was going through all the potential options in my head:
- Stop and change the tire right there – ARE YOU MAD?
- Stop and wait for help – From whom? This is not Gotham where you can fire up the Bat Signal and wait for Batman
- Drive to a police station – HEHEHEHEHE yeah right “Kihjana ghucha gipande hii”
- Drive on to a safer place, probably a petrol station and change the tire there, knowing full well that you will complete destroy the flat tire that is on the wheel. Sacrifice the tire to save your life – hmm ok
While I’m doing all this thinking inside I’m saying all these reassuring things out loud, we’ll be fine etc, I’ve done this before etc, don’t worry. Basically just trying to keep things calm and give her no reason to panic.Then I realise that while I’ve been thinking she was saying the same things to me, as in her first reaction was not to panic but to reassure me in case I was about to panic.
At that point I would start to think, hmmm this could work you know.
As opposed to those who start shouting and sulking over something simple as looking for a parking space in town!
- You know those guys who make a big deal of how much they hate football? The ones who say things like, “football just doesn’t make sense and I don’t follow it” you know those guys, the ones who go to the supermarket during the world cup final because, “it will be empty with everybody at home watching the game” you know those clowns right. Guys who come in when you are watching a game and try to change the channel to the MTV Base during half time when you are trying to follow the analysis? You know those guys right? Well every single one of them is now a Chelsea fan. That’s why we look down on you, you chelski muppets. I know 2, TWO, genuine Chelsea fans from East Africa, two of my bros who have been with Chelsea from back in the day, even before akina Viali etc were playing at Chelsea, which to be honest was the first time many of us even noticed that silly team. And those two bros of mine hate these new school Chelsea fans more than we do, hehe!
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African society is governed by a set of rules which you learn at an early age. These rules come and go, one topic of conversation is always which tribe is more traditional than the other. But one thing we all share across the board are the terms of respect and indeed status that are given to the brothers and sisters of our parents.
For example, in English my mother’s sister is my aunt and my father’s sister is my aunt. In our culture, my mother’s sister is Mamamti and my father’s sister is Senje. Dare you call a Mamti Senje, one of my brother’s did once, we haven’t seen him since!
In a similar way in English my father’s brother is uncle and my mother’s brother is uncle. In our culture my father’s brother is Papamti and my mother’s brother is Khotsa.
It extends, the husband of a Mamamti automatically becomes a Papamti etc.
We really do not have a specific word for cousin. I call my male cousins, brother and my female cousins, sister. (That is why I always say, me and my brothers, we are many (see story 5 above). I like this. It means I have brothers who are Kisii, Luo, Kikuyu, Kamba, Swahili, Maasai etc. I got back up!
This one doesn’t extend as automatically. I only call my cousin’s husband brother if I feel he is worthy!
My friends are used to this arrangement now and so when I introduce them to one of my brothers they ask me, “is this your brother, brother ….. or just your brother?”
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A so called friend who happens to live in the states sent me this picture the other day.
They took it with the camera on their phone while watching the latest episode of 24 and sent it to taunt me because they know it will be at least 3 days before I get my hands on the latest episodes. This has to rank amongst the cruellest SMS I have ever received.
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