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Several yrs ago, I cherished birthdays and their parties, now, I'm not sure. My birthday is next week, and I've totally forgotten what people used to do.
Pls don't ask 'how old', I'll just accept 'how young', but only if I know what I'll be doing on that day.
Flowerly Maua
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- Maua
- I smile recklessly and I love excessively. I live today knowing I have no other day until tomorrow. Now is my moment. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is a mystery, but today, today is my gift (present).
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
A priceless lesson in Maasai life
This made me feel so sick, and partially ashamed of my Kenyan people. I've heard of kitu kidogo, lakini this is too big a cut. Shame on all those who exploit others. Exploiting one person maybe excused, (Isaid maybe) lakini a whole village, seriously, I've no words.
'A lesson for the Maasai' lakini why from foreigners? Where is the Tourism Management Team in Kenya?
This made me think, yaani we can not manage our own resources without the intervention of foreigners? Even with a cabinet of over 40 goons.
'A lesson for the Maasai' lakini why from foreigners? Where is the Tourism Management Team in Kenya?
This made me think, yaani we can not manage our own resources without the intervention of foreigners? Even with a cabinet of over 40 goons.
Monday, 19 May 2008
Women, very obedient species
"...the FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were 3 finalists, two men and a woman.
For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!
The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow.
"This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair"..."
Author unknown
MORAL OF THE STORY: Women are very determined creatures. Don't mess with them. Regardless of what it is, nothing and no one will stand between them and their dreams, and they are very obedient too.
Other related News
Did you know that highly educated women are less likely to get married, and it's not out of choice. According to this, the more women achieve, the less men want to be 'associated' with them.
After reading the article, and relating it to the FBI recruiting, makes me wonder whether this is the reason most of us are very single. Which makes me conclude that to some extent men are very controlling and very insecure species. As times change, women are getting to know what they really want, and despite being turned down by men, they will not settle for anything less than what they think they deserve.
Ama, what do you think?
For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!
The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow.
"This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair"..."
Author unknown
MORAL OF THE STORY: Women are very determined creatures. Don't mess with them. Regardless of what it is, nothing and no one will stand between them and their dreams, and they are very obedient too.
Other related News
Did you know that highly educated women are less likely to get married, and it's not out of choice. According to this, the more women achieve, the less men want to be 'associated' with them.
After reading the article, and relating it to the FBI recruiting, makes me wonder whether this is the reason most of us are very single. Which makes me conclude that to some extent men are very controlling and very insecure species. As times change, women are getting to know what they really want, and despite being turned down by men, they will not settle for anything less than what they think they deserve.
Ama, what do you think?
Thursday, 15 May 2008
Who can beat a woman
I have nothing this week, I'm working on a post which was prompted by a comment I made last week, but for now, look what I stole (I'm not telling where from).
He gave his now ex-wife just 3 days to move out.
She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, she had movers come and collect her things.
On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay.
When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells, dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning & mopping and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere.
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.
Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit...repairmen refused to work in the house...the maid quit...finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.
A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls.
Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back...
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the small was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth...but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour, his lawyers delivered the paperwork.
A week later, the man and his new girlfriend stood smirking as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home...including the curtain rods.
Moral of the story: Women are not strong enough to fight with men physically, but they know the soft centres, and the pain stings.
He gave his now ex-wife just 3 days to move out.
She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, she had movers come and collect her things.
On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay.
When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells, dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning & mopping and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere.
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.
Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit...repairmen refused to work in the house...the maid quit...finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.
A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls.
Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back...
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the small was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth...but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour, his lawyers delivered the paperwork.
A week later, the man and his new girlfriend stood smirking as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home...including the curtain rods.
Moral of the story: Women are not strong enough to fight with men physically, but they know the soft centres, and the pain stings.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
The Bronze Plus Bank Account
Place: KCB (Kenya Commercial Bank)
Branch: Anniversary Towers
Time: 14.25 hr
Year: 2000
I’ve queued up for so long, not sure how long. I’ve been carrying this cash the whole morning, in the mathrees luckily no pickpockets have caught up with me yet. I need to bank this cash now. (I am a trainee mathree tout, learning to run my mathree business. I do my banking everyday at about 3.00 pm, but today, I have an appointment).
But, unlike the banks in UK, bankers go for lunch same time with everyone else. On a serious note, there are only 2 counters in use, and the queue, wacha tu. For the hundredth time, I’m counting how many people are before me. None, I’m next. I’ve got everything ready, I don’t have to waste any time unnecessarily. I’ve wasted enough already.
The customer on counter one has just finished. Yes, Yeeess. I’m next. I walk up to the counter. I’m not sure whether I’m happy that I’ll be served in the next minute, or angry coz I’ve been in this establishment for the last hour and half, or is it 2 hours. I’ve put my card in the hole (what do they call it), and the cashier is just about to pick it, when this hand stretches behind me, and a card falls in front of the cashier. I turn around, and there is this woman, in her late 30s (I’m in my early 30s, I sense trouble, and I’m sizing her. Can I take her?)
“There’s a queue”, I say
“I know”, she says, “but I’m a Goldplus account holder”
I turn to the cashier.
“What’s the name of my account again?”
S**t, who cares, I came in first, and there’s no way she’s being served before me.
“Listen lady, I don’t even know what account I hold, bronze or copper, but I’ve been queuing for the last 90 minutes (90 sounds more than an hour and half), and if you want to be served on this counter, wait until after I’m done, or look for another one.
She’s adamant, looks at the cashier, who at this point has no idea what to do. I have a right as a bronze account holder who has been queuing for the last 90 mins, (no 92 minutes now), and this woman, is paying for all the privileges. But, I’m determined, there’s no way I’ll be late for my appointment coz I’m holding a bronze account, (where is Annan when you need him), I have to go first.
This is my 3rd week in Kenya from UK, and in my wallet (which can hold 8 credit cards, and the spaces are all full) I am the proud owner of the following cards:
• Barclay connect card
• Halifax cash card
• Iceland free delivery card
• Boots points card
• Tesco’s club card,
• expired Barclay Connect card
• expired Barclay Visa card
• University Student ID card
I’m so angry now, and I don’t even realise I’m opening my purse.
“Look lady, I’m the proud owner of all these accounts, (even tesco club card has my account of my shopping habits, so is Boots). I don’t think you need to know how much is in the accounts; likewise, I don’t want to know how much you have in your gold account. We bronze account holders are keeping these banks alive and standing, this is my bank, and I’m not being moved by some gold account”.
By now the cashier knows better than serve this woman before me. To help him make his decisions, I grab the card and throw it back at her without even looking where it'll land. I'm a size 10, but I can tyson a goliath right now.
Before I turn around to look at the cashier, I hear a loud applaud. I’ve not even noticed I’m in some drama, and everyone is listening. The whole bank had been quiet and watching me.
The woman turns around, feeling so embarrassed and she walks away, without being served.
I talk to myself for a good 1 minute, complaining the problems we common wananchis face every day. How can a banking establishment give their staff a lunch break at this time of the day? We might as well open our own banks and not have to queue.
“What do you do for a living”, asks the cashier while serving me.
“I’m a mathree tout.”
Branch: Anniversary Towers
Time: 14.25 hr
Year: 2000
I’ve queued up for so long, not sure how long. I’ve been carrying this cash the whole morning, in the mathrees luckily no pickpockets have caught up with me yet. I need to bank this cash now. (I am a trainee mathree tout, learning to run my mathree business. I do my banking everyday at about 3.00 pm, but today, I have an appointment).
But, unlike the banks in UK, bankers go for lunch same time with everyone else. On a serious note, there are only 2 counters in use, and the queue, wacha tu. For the hundredth time, I’m counting how many people are before me. None, I’m next. I’ve got everything ready, I don’t have to waste any time unnecessarily. I’ve wasted enough already.
The customer on counter one has just finished. Yes, Yeeess. I’m next. I walk up to the counter. I’m not sure whether I’m happy that I’ll be served in the next minute, or angry coz I’ve been in this establishment for the last hour and half, or is it 2 hours. I’ve put my card in the hole (what do they call it), and the cashier is just about to pick it, when this hand stretches behind me, and a card falls in front of the cashier. I turn around, and there is this woman, in her late 30s (I’m in my early 30s, I sense trouble, and I’m sizing her. Can I take her?)
“There’s a queue”, I say
“I know”, she says, “but I’m a Goldplus account holder”
I turn to the cashier.
“What’s the name of my account again?”
S**t, who cares, I came in first, and there’s no way she’s being served before me.
“Listen lady, I don’t even know what account I hold, bronze or copper, but I’ve been queuing for the last 90 minutes (90 sounds more than an hour and half), and if you want to be served on this counter, wait until after I’m done, or look for another one.
She’s adamant, looks at the cashier, who at this point has no idea what to do. I have a right as a bronze account holder who has been queuing for the last 90 mins, (no 92 minutes now), and this woman, is paying for all the privileges. But, I’m determined, there’s no way I’ll be late for my appointment coz I’m holding a bronze account, (where is Annan when you need him), I have to go first.
This is my 3rd week in Kenya from UK, and in my wallet (which can hold 8 credit cards, and the spaces are all full) I am the proud owner of the following cards:
• Barclay connect card
• Halifax cash card
• Iceland free delivery card
• Boots points card
• Tesco’s club card,
• expired Barclay Connect card
• expired Barclay Visa card
• University Student ID card
I’m so angry now, and I don’t even realise I’m opening my purse.
“Look lady, I’m the proud owner of all these accounts, (even tesco club card has my account of my shopping habits, so is Boots). I don’t think you need to know how much is in the accounts; likewise, I don’t want to know how much you have in your gold account. We bronze account holders are keeping these banks alive and standing, this is my bank, and I’m not being moved by some gold account”.
By now the cashier knows better than serve this woman before me. To help him make his decisions, I grab the card and throw it back at her without even looking where it'll land. I'm a size 10, but I can tyson a goliath right now.
Before I turn around to look at the cashier, I hear a loud applaud. I’ve not even noticed I’m in some drama, and everyone is listening. The whole bank had been quiet and watching me.
The woman turns around, feeling so embarrassed and she walks away, without being served.
I talk to myself for a good 1 minute, complaining the problems we common wananchis face every day. How can a banking establishment give their staff a lunch break at this time of the day? We might as well open our own banks and not have to queue.
“What do you do for a living”, asks the cashier while serving me.
“I’m a mathree tout.”
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
The Effects of Technology
It was tough, but He took me through. I'm back.
Thank you all, your words meant a lot to me, and for those who said a prayer, God heard you.
I've nothing to write, so I'm digging from elsewhere. I'm sure for most of you, this is familiar, and it's in your inboxes.
A couple from Minneapolis decided to go to Florida for a long weekend in winter. They planned to stay at the very same hotel where they spent their honeymoon 20 years earlier.
Because both had jobs, they found it difficult coordinating their travel schedules. It was decided that the husband would fly to Florida on a Thursday, and his wife would follow him the next day. Upon arriving as planned, the husband checked into the hotel. In his room there was a computer, so he decided to send his wife an e-mail back in Minneapolis.
However, he accidentally left out one letter in her address, and sent the e-mail without realizing his error. In Houston, a widow had just returned from her husband's funeral. The dearly departed was a minister of many years who had been called home to glory following a heart attack. The widow checked her e-mail, expecting messages from relatives and friends. Upon reading the first message, she fainted. The widow's son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:
To: My Loving Wife
Subject: I've arrived.
I know you are surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now and you are allowed to send e-mails to your loved ones. I've just arrived and have been checked in. I see that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then!
Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.
PS: Sure is hot down here
Thank you all, your words meant a lot to me, and for those who said a prayer, God heard you.
I've nothing to write, so I'm digging from elsewhere. I'm sure for most of you, this is familiar, and it's in your inboxes.
A couple from Minneapolis decided to go to Florida for a long weekend in winter. They planned to stay at the very same hotel where they spent their honeymoon 20 years earlier.
Because both had jobs, they found it difficult coordinating their travel schedules. It was decided that the husband would fly to Florida on a Thursday, and his wife would follow him the next day. Upon arriving as planned, the husband checked into the hotel. In his room there was a computer, so he decided to send his wife an e-mail back in Minneapolis.
However, he accidentally left out one letter in her address, and sent the e-mail without realizing his error. In Houston, a widow had just returned from her husband's funeral. The dearly departed was a minister of many years who had been called home to glory following a heart attack. The widow checked her e-mail, expecting messages from relatives and friends. Upon reading the first message, she fainted. The widow's son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:
To: My Loving Wife
Subject: I've arrived.
I know you are surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now and you are allowed to send e-mails to your loved ones. I've just arrived and have been checked in. I see that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then!
Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.
PS: Sure is hot down here
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