I was not aware that Easter was a time for giving gifts, however, I think my Christmas and birthday came early when I received the bestest gifts ever… some inspirational poems and two CDs and it feels like there is no other music than this music I am listening to. Talk of wallowing in pure pleasure (the hippos would envy me), this is what indulgences are made for. I received these gifts on Saturday. Sunday morning was a joy to awake and I blasted my way through the music, and I was still walking about with the these nice glow and for some weird reason I thought I was protected when I had some arguments with Christians – that is the another blog entry. I have always promised myself not to get involved in discussions with Christians but I forgot my maxim in my exuberance.

Back to my gifts, to the giver of these gifts thank you, times a trillion times, this is not an exaggerations neither is it a familial trait of melodrama and if you have any objections about me revealing who you are I shall spare you the blushes. The music is a treasure trove of new discoveries thank you thank you thank you. I tell you, you could not even begin to guess or fathom my appreciation for these; it is all and more of my favourite musicians and their music. My next-door neighbour heard the Hindi music (I mean it was that loud!) and he has a video of the film and wants to share it, I told him the CD has Somali music as well…..

When the only thing the computer is good for is just for solitaire, I feel like I have a reached an impasse and if it was not for blogging… alas woe is me as I am not connected like I really have to look for the nearest place to sit for a couple of hours reading other people’s blogs.

A couple of years back before goggle and the world of bloggers I had access to a computer and the number of sites I visited like there are too many to mention. Nevertheless, I went to the school alumni ones, looked for my friends in Kenya and other places and made a nuisance of myself just trying to be part of this experience (the information super highway!!!). Yahoo had geosites but for some reason could not understand what they were on about, chat rooms were an experience I could not comprehend, in one particular chat room, I left with a sense of being violated as the language was perverse- my nostalgia trips are not over by a long shot by the way.

There is something so compelling about blogging- it is not as if I don’t have people to talk to I do but this way it is just putting stuff down and coming back to it and discovering that that others have read it too. I have been reading the 100 lists and it is figuring out stuff about yourself that you do not mind other people knowing about. I also feel that in the blog world, so much care is taken in hiding ones identity and yet I am careless about mine. There is also great sense of anonymity and yet one can get personal.

As an African woman, who happens to be Kenyan too as an added bonus I know that this is a place where I can talk until the cows come home and will continue when even they are brought out for milking at dawn. You know that thing of where as a woman you are not supposed to talk much and the nice woman is one who defers to the man and let him talk you to death…. Well as a blogger the opinionated woman is capable of holding her own… See you next week blogspot after the holidays… Does one say Happy Easter when we know that Jesus was crucified, oh forgot he rose and ascended into heaven on the third day. My catholic upbringing is showing…….

Went to the library yesterday and picked up four books just to read about people and the lives they have made. The first was Voices and Silences by James Earl Jones and Penelope Niven talk of reading it and hearing James Earl Jones as the whispery Darth Varder in Star Wars.

As I am reading this book it was a period back in his childhood and he is recounting his grandmother and mother fighting over who he will stay with and I was spellbound ……. “Goofer Dust in the thirties the use of cocaine was sanctioned made cheap for farm and plantation owners. As they passed through to pick their tools each morning, migrant workers pulled out their shirt pockets and received thimbleful of cocaine to help them work productively and get through the day.” (Pg 6 Voices and Silences James Earl Jones & Penelope Niven).

Now that took me by surprise and I started thinking about the use of drugs and other things like venereal disease often sanctioned by governments and used on minorities (?) people. How to exterminate people as in Native American reservations, Aborigines in Australia, what happened to the Masaai in 1918. I think it is time for some research and look for some information……….

Bus journey’s in London as I have written many a time are can be fun on the 176 on the way to Middlesex Hospital on Tuesday 15th March, the drivers change at Camberwell and it is a lesson to watch a grumpy driver leave and a fresh one with a smile in his eyes enter.

An observation that struck me was why do Chinese doctors have a long list of ailments, diseases and illnesses that they can cure/treat written in their shop windows somehow it reminds me of this sign outside a mgangas shop in Eldoret where he could heal you of everything and anything. Maybe it is time Western doctors had signs outside their surgeries telling us what they can cure and/or treat.

After leaving Middlesex Hospital, walking down Tottenham Court Road near one of the new computer shops there was a young black man who had been stopped by the police, (mentally groaning oh another one of us stopped by the police again) he had a massive rucksack on his back and heard snatches of their conversations “ you are aware that I am going to have to search you ?” The young man responded in a quiet and very cultured voice “ that is alright but could we please move out of the main thoroughfare” By the way there is a lot of paraphrasing but I hope this was the gist of it. The black brother was so polite that I could have fallen on his feet and kissed them. I carried on without looking back, walked towards Oxford Street to wait for the 176 bus. Stopped at the traffic lights at Trafalgar Square and I saw the black young man with his rucksack confidently making his way towards South Africa House. I was so happy to see him as I had visions of him being put at the back of a police car being taken to the nearest police station. That made my day……

Now I am grown up or so I think we were in the Fourth form, sleeping up in the lofts not so much in dormitory but partitioned rooms, the ivy on the walls was particularly thick around here, but first thing first the matron would come rousting us in the morning and Mrs Ngatho’s “time to get up, to brush your teeth, to eat your breakfast” sang out so gleefully still resounds in my ears even up to now. We went home for the Easter exeat and it is time to be adventurous. Bought SM (Saidia Malaya- aka as Sweet Menthol) and B&H Benson & Hedges and for the time were rather expensive, I was experimenting with my brand, but never learnt to appreciate that menthol in sigaras, they tasted like herbal ones ugh! The fields as ever were green and spacious and looked for a spot to light up and begin with the SMs and the dizziness was unbearable but I stuck it out, never enjoyed the SMs but eventually tried the B&Hs.

You can imagine the adventure of looking for a place to smoke, and the easiest places were in cinemas where we smoked. For those who were not even a figment in their parents’ imagination cinemas were smoking zones, my best friend and I who smoked but never in public were scandalised as we were standing outside the then very new and chic Nairobi Cinema when a school mate took out a pack of Sportsman and proceeded to light it outside and in broad daylight. I am not sure whether it was the fact that she was smoking outside or that it was a Sportman with the distinct soft pack and the red lettering. How times change now I am not so much in the brand but have discovered roll-ups and another friend told me that they are for the arty types……..

As blogged earlier this was going to be a series of nostalgic trips down memory lane, my first memory of an alcoholic drink where I consciously fixed myself a drink was at the school holidays of between Form Three and Form Four, it was a hot afternoon and we were in Nairobi. My Dad had some whiskey in the house, I am not sure whether it was Bell or Teachers but it was good whiskey. I fixed myself this drink and did not so much have a blackout but went to sit outside in the sun at two p.m. in the afternoon now for those who know Kenya in December, that is not a good time for sitting in the sun. I read the clouds and was quite drunk.

Now I am not claiming that my Dad is a connoisseur of alcoholic drinks (I mean this is a man who drank expensive brandy with milk!!! ) but the silly me diluted his whiskey with water to keep it at the level of where I had found it. Questions were asked and the culprit was named and the worst part was my Dad laughing at me that I thought he was so stupid and would not know that some Juvenile Delinquent would tamper with his drink…….

In Form Three, at an all girls, boarding school there was a girl who was in Form 6 and went out with the boys’ school (actually Lenana School) rugby captain. She elected to have a girl’s rugby team in our school and we were encouraged to build up a team from scratch, we played for a term and we were getting quite good. This changed when it was pointed out that we were developing muscles, now it was alright to have love handles, or even a spare tyre but muscular arms were a no no as it was said we would end up looking like lesbians or woe betide us like men. The other thing about the school was the weather it played havoc on our sporting prowess. There were times when swimming between May to July was out of the question because it was that cold. Anyway I was a winger for the all girls “fearless” rugby team… nostalgia is a wonderful thing.

Talking of sport, at school I played tennis, tried to swim but failed, badminton, gymnastics. As I grew up I took up squash and even won the wooden spoon for a tournament at the Sports Club in Eldoret. Now that wooden spoon is not something to brag about but I won it for effort though I lost oh so badly. The early years of secondary school were easy times sports wise as I also played hockey as goalkeeper. But there was something about the competitive spirit of girls which was often knocked about as we started maturing that by the time we were sitting for exams, all we shaped up to be were the wives of the future civil servants.

My nostalgic journey continues and there might be a series of this so be prepared- the first kiss, drink, first puff of sigara and just to preserve my dignity and I know the young ones read these blogs I shall only dwell on these three……….


I had the unenviable task of washing my Dad’s socks as his favourite child/daughter. This boy that I liked who was so cute and was in Form Four when I had just gone into Form Two, now this is the older person scenario. He came visiting and while I was washing those infernal socks there was a rap on the mabati fence and I went to talk to him leaving those socks soaking. Certain things you are still unsure about like kissing and after being brought up on a surfeit of Hindi movies where they never kissed only some chases around the parks amid flowers. I had no idea that happened at all. After some silly chat, it was time for him to go, he held me in an embrace and kissed me eeuch, yikes, and what was that. I went straight back to the socks and wiped my mouth with them. I am happy to say that I soon learnt to experience and enjoy kissing….. To be continued………

Thank you very much for doing the Quiz, it has been fun and please continue and here are some early results

MamaJunkyard 90%
Mshairi 70%
Mental Acrobatics 60%
Me 40%
Mimi 40%

My Cucu Wanjiku’s mum who I am named after was well known for her beauty, her lovely singing voice and her beauty. She enjoyed music and dancing and maybe I have that trait of enjoying the music- I don’t know about the beauty part!!! This particular blog is definely going to age me but it is my nostalgia trip.

This is a continuation of the music theme when Annie Lennox sang “Sweet Dreams are made of this” and then the duet with Aretha Franklin “Sisters are doing it for themselves” talk of goosebumps moments. Just nearly 7 or 8 years old and my big sister used to go to a teenage club and the hits were Cliff Richard, “The Young Ones” and “ Summer Holiday”, the Beatles with “ Hard days night” and Elvis Presley “ Suspicious Minds”

The Soul phenomenon that is James Brown and dancing to soul music from the likes of Wilson Pickett- “Young Gifted and Black” cannot for the life of me remember the artistes. Then there were the Staples Singers” I will take you there”. Stevie Wonder’s “ Superstition” was another great moment- his music was inspirational- I remember singing to a certain niece “ Is’t she lovely” and now they are grown.

In boarding school, Barry White was another favourite and his music came blaring out of the Junior Common Room- Isaac Hayes looked nude though I am assured it is his bald tome that made him appear that way and his music was according to some risque. Funk was around at this time. Millie Jackson’s “ If loving you is wrong” and Minnie Ripperton’s “Loving you” . I have not forgotten the Jackson Five with little Micahael bellting out “ABC” and getting copies of Right On magazine and some girlie posters on the wall. Osibisa with “Sunshine day” and Manu Dibango- oh this nostalgia trip is good for the soul. I remember dancing in some boys sweaty arms and in particular the slow numbers where you have been clutched and held in all the wrong places. Yuck …..