Alternative Lifestyles

Here is what I live by.

What two people (or one person for that matter) decide
to do to quench their sexual thirsts is really none of
my business as long as it does not infringe on my
rights. 

I know for a fact that the one thing that ‘disgusts’
heterosexuals is the methods gay people use to show
and express their intimacy and to get sexual
satisfaction. The knowledge of these methods is
acquired from a very over-active imagination or, passed
on from those who may have been witness to the ‘gay
sexual act’ (how and where is a subject matter for
another day).

Maybe here we should pause and ask the question, are these same acts more ‘acceptable’ to the ‘normal’ society if they are expressed between a man and a
woman?

Its funny how two women can hold hands in public and eyebrows are not raised to question their sexuality, but alas when two men do so, there is a general uproar from the ‘normal’ ones.

There is a general murmur of disapproval when a man and woman chose to live together (whether in a relationship or not). But of course, there will be little or no
questions asked when two men or two women live together as ‘roommates’.

It is equally strange that it is okay for two women to share a bed, or two men to share a bed but not a man and a woman to share a bed, for example when you have
an occasion at home where the guests must stay the night, or a few days and leave in the morning. Do the ‘normal’ ones ever use their over-active imaginations to wonder what these guests (or roommates) are upto when left alone in the dead of night?

I find all of the above situations comical.

I feel that those who are advocating for ‘normality’ in society are hiding behind a cloud of self doubt (of their own sexuality) and archaic beliefs of self preservation. They are afraid of the unknown and are ultimately afraid of themselves.

Regarding ‘The Avante Garde African Woman’ (unfortunately, interpreted as a woman wanting to be a man) and the issue of the liberated men being sissies
(now interpreted as men wanting to be women) simply because; she has realized that she has an equal say just as the man, and the African man on the other hand
has accepted the African woman as an equal partner in life, well, I am not sure whether to laugh or cry but I am happy in the knowledge that somehow, we shall all
find a way to live together, acceptable norms or not.

This is a personal choice of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

when a woman is Fed Up

Somebody sent this to me as a forward. Apart from the vivid and dramatic writing, i can sooooo relate to it!  Read on.

When a woman is Fed up

A man comes home from work early to surprise his wife with flowers and candy and finds that she’s already got something planned. The computer is on and there is a note written on it. He sits down in
front of the computer and notices his handgun on one side of the computer and on the other side, an empty container of pain pills. He reads the message:

“By the time you read this I will already be dead, so don’t get too excited. Don’t bother looking around the house for me either. Of  course I didn’t want my body where my children may see, for they have already seen enough. They have already had to endure far too many years of seeing their mother being tortured by the man they are supposed to look up to. But even though I know I am going to hurt them dearly, I cannot live like this anymore. So, I am taking these pain pills, prescribed for the kind of pain you inflict and I am going somewhere to take a nap.  Don’t bother looking for me, just sit there and do something that you haven’t been able to do for the last ten years, listen to me. Now that I had to go and kill myself to get your attention, the least you can do is finish reading this letter.

I have been writing it over and over in my head for years. Every time that you beat me, I had to rewrite it to add to the horror. Besides I didn’t want you to find me after I died because the thought of you touching me even after death turns my stomach I refuse to let you touch me again, in life or death. I chose to die because I promised God when I married you that I would love you for life. And since I am more afraid of Him than you, I chose death. I cannot love you anymore so I have to leave this place. As I look around to this house, you know it’s funny, but I can remember the good times that we shared together. 

Before the babies, before the drinking, do you remember? I do, and it was good back then. It was almost good enough to give me a little hope that we could get back to those times. And they were good times. I guess I have to settle with the fact that no matter what’s going on right now, you
once loved me, and even you can’t deny that. I think what hurts more than my ribs that are stinging me right now is the fact that I still love you  That realization is stronger than any fist you could ball up and hurl at me. Knowing that my love for you causes a stronger and more lasting pain is much worse than a swift kick in the groin from your steel toed shoes.

But this is a pain that I can take care of, something that I can remedy. I am not into pain, even personally inflicted kinds, so I had to relieve myself. Even as I stood in the mirror this morning admiring the black eye that you gave me last night I knew you would never touch me again. And as I sucked blood from my split, swollen lips I knew I couldn’t stand another blow from you. Not because of the fact that you promised with tears in your eyes that you would never do that to me again.  Nor the fact that you put your hand on the bible and swore to me that you were going to get help. Not even the fact that you got down on your knees and swore to God that you would never lift a hand to
me again.

Well your prayers were answered and no, you will not be touching me again. I guess I just had to play God and make sure of that myself.  Last night when I picked myself off the floor and fell into your arms it wasn’t because I wanted to, I just couldn’t stand. It wasn’t because wanted you to hold me,
as you may have thought. You picked me up,  carried me to our bed and lay on top of me and kissed my swollen face so soft and gentle. Even though you brushed my hair back from my eyes and kissed my eyelids, I didn’t feel anything. And even though I may have moaned when you licked me between my thighs, I really didn’t feel any kind of pleasure.  And when you put yourself inside of me and I grabbed your butt and said your name a few times, I was just helping you get it over with. I moaned because your weight was on my stinging ribs.  So what that you asked me what the f$*k I was doing when I scratched your back, I felt the urge. And when you went to sleep, I laid there under ou because I couldn’t move. When you finally rolled off, of me you were limp and you left your condom inside me. The condom you searched all over for because you didn’t want me to bleed on you like the last time you kicked me. I woke up before you this morning and cooked your breakfast like I always do. I hoped you enjoyed the piss in your oatmeal and the blood I sucked from my lip mixed in your jelly. Iwatched you spread it on the bread that I wiped my a*s*s with before I put it in the toaster. I don’t even want to tell you what I did with those sausages. I spat in your coffee and watched you eat, noticing the look on your face because  you knew something was not right.

And when you got through with your breakfast, I put your dishes in the sink, but I wrapped the knife you used this morning in a napkin and put it in my pocket. After you left I laughed. I laughed all the way to the bank and took out every penny and took advances on all our credit cards. I donated half
of the money to a woman’s shelter, all one hundred and twenty thousand of it. Now, you can pay back all the other women like me, those who had the strength to leave their men. Let those women get a
pool table or something, hell, they deserve it. I took the rest and put it away for my children. I left some money for Greg so that he can pay for the counseling he is going to need to reverse the damage
of seeing his father slamming his mother into the refrigerator. I sent the rest to Dana in college so that she would never need to come back home when she graduates. You are never going to touch my children again. I made sure of that. No, I am positive that you will not touch them again. So, I figured that with me gone you would run over to your little woman’s house and tell her the good news. So I went over there this afternoon and killed the b*i*t*c*h. I stabbed her little backstabbing a*s*s dead in her heart with the knife you used this morning. And since there was a lot of screaming and sh*t I  new
that the police would be there soon so I took that nasty ass condom you left inside of me and stuck it up her a*s*s. I know you didn’t actually kill her but you might as well have. it’s your fault that she is dead, so why should anyone else take the blame but you. And since you killed her after you just got through f*$king her, it won’t seem premeditated so you will probably just get manslaughter and spend the rest of your life in jail. They probably won’t sentence you to death. But you will be okay. You got your high priced lawyers to defend you.

The same lawyers that bribed a judge when they had you on charges of embezzlement from your firm. Remember you gave me those documents to shred? Well, I shredded most of them. I got up this morning and mailed the others I had saved out in the garage to the State’s Attorney. And since you have already killed someone you probably are going to jail for a long time anyway, so those papers are probably not going to do much damage. but I had already mailed them before I though  about it.
Damn, you haven’t been this quiet in a long time. In fact, I can’t even remember when you have been so quiet before. I guess if all I had to do was die to shut you up, I should have killed myself a long time ago So, since I got your undivided attention, for a change, let me tell you what I want you to do. On one side of the computer screen there is a gun with one bullet in it. On the other side is the telephone. You could : 

 A : Call the police, turn yourself in and go to jail for the rest of your life, or
B : You can take the gun and join me.

It is up to you. Don’t worry about Greg, he is with your mother, you won’t be seeing him again. You already killed your girlfriend so she’ll do you no good either. You are about to lose your business and you are going to jail. Your wife will be mysteriously found dead in your office tomorrow morning. My body is still bruised and battered from when you beat me, and your skin is under my fingernails from where I scratched your back last night. So sh*t, doesn’t look too good for you now. But as you said last night before you threw me into the wall, I am a b*tch. Well, ain’t this a b*tch. Oh, I know that you didn’t think that I was going to die all by myself now did you? I already killed you motherf%#ker!! You can either go to jail and get f%#ked up you’re a*s*s for the rest of your life and have your man beat you around your jail cell, like you did me. Until you die like me, after becoming the b*i*t*c*h you claimed me to be. Or you could take this gun and put one in your dome and kill yourself. It doesn’t matter to me. Remember we said until death do us part,  right.”

MOMENTS PASS. There is a click. One gunshot breaks the silence and his body hits the floor. The roses he brought begin to rise in a pool of blood that spreads across the floor like a fan. His wife
steps out of the closet she was hiding in and calls the police. She steps over her husband, sits
down at the computer and deletes the message on the screen. She brings up the suicide note that she wrote for him earlier. She gets rid of the empty pillbox and calls her mother-in-law to check on her
children. She hangs up the phone and calls his other woman and hangs up. The woman calls back
several times but she didn’t answer. The police will assume that the husband must have called her before he shot himself.

She practised all the lines out loud. When she heard the police pull up she kneeled beside the man that had once promised God that he was going to love and cherish her and felt nothing. That man was
gone long ago and this body belonged to someone whom she didn’t even know. She didn’t feel any pain besides the tingling of her ribs. She had no regrets either. She put him out of his misery and
ended her own misery with just one bullet. Yet, she knelt there and screamed like her life was
over.

“WHEN A WOMAN IS FED UP……!!!!!”

Duress

Someone mentioned that perhaps Nation should write a story on how lecturers prey on female students for sexual favours in return for good grades.  Last year, the nation did the story on Lecturers preying on female students and I remember the writer interviewed some students who had been involved with some of the lecturers.
What came out is that some lecturers do indeed ask for these favours.  Unfortunately, the female students were very clear in the fact that as much as the threat was veiled and that they were scared stiff of refusing the advances, they still made the choice to go ahead and sleep with the lecturer so that their ‘future’ could be ’secured’. Later they discovered that with the many units you have to go through while in campus, and with the different lecturers having you for each unit, they ended up making some really bad decisions.  They also discovered that trying to stop this illicit relationships is not easy because you don’t always get to do it just once, and you are not always sure how many other female students the lecturers are having the same relationship with, therefore putting you at risk to contracting a sexually transmitted disease.

According to the same article, there are also instances where some female students go ahead and offer the same service to ensure a good grade and these few incidences make the rest of the genuine cases look unbelievable.

I remember when we were in campus and some students felt that their papers had not been given the grade they thought they deserved and the Dean of Students would always order a remark on the paper for a certain specified fee (paid to the campus) and this option was always available as soon as all grades were out and the remark request made within the first month immediately after.  I really hope this is an option available in all Colleges across kenya and/the world.

When it comes to the work place, the same principle applies.  If you managed to get this job, chances are that you will definately get another job should you loose this one.  I know some girls feel that they have been put in a situtation where they don’t have a choice, but I always say that you should never allow anyone to have that much power over you (that power should always be within you) and always remember that you are the one who responds to the request and makes a choice to submit to the person’s advances. There is always an alternative, even if that alternative causes you to loose your job. 

In the case of rape in the work place, which is something that should never happen to anyone, always remember that you did not have a choice in the matter, it is beyond your employer and you should report this to the police immediately after it happens.
Always be careful in situations where you are requested to work late, trust your intuition and instinct and ask a friend who is a colleague to stay with you in the office, and if this is not possible, you would rather come in early the next day and do the work unless its a matter of life and death (which means you must be a doctor or work for the Police). If you are travelling out of the country with this person, and have to stay with him in a hotel, check the sleeping arrangements and ensure that you have seperate rooms before you leave.  Request for a room near the reception area if possible and always ask the guard, waiter or an employee of the hotel to escort you to your room after meals. Watch what you are eating always. If your instincts however tell you that the situation is just not right, simply refuse to go on the trip and ensure the head of the division and HR are aware of what is happening and start looking for another job immediately or even start thinking of starting out on your own.

My belief is that i would rather have a bad grade and repeat the class twice if need be, or even loose a job rather than succumb to such duress.  In life, good things always come to those who wait and always know that something great will always come out of every worse situation.  I would therefore encourage every woman who finds herself in such a situation to always beleive that there is always another way, there is always an option.

Africa my beloved

Let me start by saying that I wholeheartedly and passionately believe in my country and my fellow country men, regardless of tribe, economic status or ethnic origins.  I wholeheartedly and passionately believe in Africa, the organised culture (except the repugnant ones) and traditions of the people and I have dedicated my life to ensure that I grow in thought and reason and to develop my continent to the best of my ability.
I have seen the various emails and let me say that I love our thought processes and I think we are a generation that will shift our people to a better and more fulfilling dimension because we are open minded and are willing to listen and understand why people do what they do and what their motivating factors are.

Let me explain further.

In my various everyday endeavours, I was fortunate enough to visit Europe last year and the experience especially for some one who had never been out of Africa, was simply mind-blowing.  I was awed by Europe’s smooth and wide roads, the fast trains, the quick police responses, rules of the roads that everybody adheres to, rules of driving, the vehicles and their humongous Airports (I got lost too many times).

On the flip side, I was shocked to come across an English white man begging me for spare change; I was a little uncomfortable when the lady behind the counter at the sandwich place did not say hallo to me before serving me; after falling down when the fast speed train took off, I was disappointed that no one on the train offered to help me up; I found it hilarious when I was invited to a party where you had bring your own food and drink; my colleague at work told me that she has no idea who lived in the apartment next to her, but what was really annoying was when she also told me that she does not see or speak to her mum until Christmas time and when she does visit, she does not carry any gifts for her; none of my hosts offered to show me where to get lunch when it was time to eat and non offered to walk me to the train station and instead I was shown the easy way to do so – to google the map to my hotel or take a cab. The irony of the situation is
that we never do that in Kenya when people from other countries visit, Infact, we treat them as guests with heartfelt warmth, comfort and compassion.

These are things I have never encountered before or if I had, then this was a real wake up call.

When I explained all this to a close friend, he reminded me not to ever forget that Americans, Europe and Europeans are way ahead of us; 200 years both economically and socially.  Africa had been colonised and has suffered for a very long period and we are just starting to pick ourselves up, albeit slowly but, we are getting there.  On the other hand, what is ‘getting there’ really, is it having gadgets, motorised or automatic vehicles and machinery, or having huge buildings and computers that can do marvellous things that hitherto man could not do or is it living in an organised community where proper healthcare, food, shelter and peace prevails among all members?

Let me digress a little bit.

At a holiday spot in deep Samburu in Kenya, I sat down and marvelled at the brain of the white man, who managed to settle in Africa, conceptualise simple housing, designed using wood and stone found freely from the surroundings and the genius creation of solar power and generators and various amenities to ensure that he could still get the comfort he experienced at home in the deep heart of the Samburu.  Why do you suppose the various inhabitants of the area never dreamed of this?  The funny thing is that the traditional Samburu homestead has now become a tourist attraction in this area. Tourists must pay Kshs. 700 to get in and view their way of life.

At a fundraising congress that I attended in the Netherlands, I was shocked by some of the images flashing across screens during the different presentations and these screens were showing faces of African children with flies on their pus infected eyes and noses. These images were the ideal images that fundraisers use to raise money for Africa and other third world countries. One of the presenters who is a guru in the fundraising field and who had been fundraising for over 30 years gave a lecture on the kinds of images and messages that sell and propel to action the various members of the public in Europe who are potential donors.  This is how they do it, and this is how they have always done it, the pictures simply turn their citizens into donors for Africa.  I doubt that any other picture would have the same effect on them.

When it was my turn to speak, I talked about fundraising from Africa, which is what I do and I presented various ideas on how Africa and Africans have their own solutions to their problems.  I pointed out that a research from Forbes Magazine had reported that Africa’s wealth had actually grown by 5% in the year 2006. I mentioned some of our most outstanding achievements such as improved healthcare in public hospitals and our own work in my organisation where many community workers have been trained to work in areas where there are little or no health amenities. These health workers are able to diagnose and treat communicable diseases, help women give birth and where they cannot, they make arrangements to ensure that patients go to the nearest health centre. They also talk to people on what they can do to prevent themselves from getting these diseases.

(Community health workers are traditional healers (or witchdoctors), traditional birth attendants and other respected members of their own community who the people look upto for guidance or help in other areas of their life).

I then criticised some of the presentations that had been made before mine.  I told them that cancer research institutes who have been in operation much longer than any of us have been in the fundraising business, have been raising money for years without ever showing their potential donors pictures of a diseased and or cancerous breast, cervix or penis.  I talked to them about dignity and why pictures of bodies floating after the Katrina aftermath were never shown in the media. I asked for an answer to the age old question of why the AIDS/HIV pandemic has spread faster and further even after the fast picture of a naked African Aids victim was televised for all to see (and hopefully fear). I pointed out that poverty levels in the poorest parts of Africa have not reduced despite the huge amounts of Aid from the west.  I even agreed with them that Africans have their problems yes, but so do the developed countries in the form of the Iraq war and other man
made atrocities such as 911. 

The difference between them and us is that we are a continent full of hope and not of paranoia and fear.  I challenged each one of them to withdraw their NGOs from Africa and watch as Africans rose to the challenge and moved to fill in the vacuum with hard work and a lot of discipline.  I challenged each one of them to stop hiding behind the façade of what their organisations really stand for, and that NGOs that exist to help ‘save’ Africa are purely for selfish gains and to ensure that their citizens have jobs and that their various interests in many parts of the world are ‘taken care of’.

What I know for sure is that I have heard that thousands of American’s sons have died in the Iraq war; however, I am yet to come across pictures of dead soldiers’ bodies strewn across dust with blood spewing for their mouths and noses, and legs twisted in an inhuman way.  I know for sure that the Katrina disaster killed many Americans but I never saw pictures of dogs eating up the bodies of dead humans after the scourge, I only heard about it on Oprah.  I read about this today;   
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indigenous_Australians
And it is shocking to say the least that Australia would have a secret such as this one which few know exist. I know for a fact that America rarely talks about the red Indians, the true natives of America who live without the various comforts that a common American would not live without, and we rarely see pictures of Americans who live in card boxes in LA on the cold concrete where right across the road there are fellow Americans who live in million dollar homes.

What I know for sure is that on Sunday the 6th of January 2008, the entire Kenyan country was united in prayer (Christian and Muslims alike) for one hour and all television stations in the country (except for aljazeera) was tuned into the televised prayers.  While Aljazeera reported that tens of thousands of Kenyans had been killed, maimed or displaced in ethnic battles, Kenya was united in prayer with only one thought in common, peace. This was not reported either on CNN or Aljazeera.  I know for a fact that Kenyans of means are gathering food, clothing, sanitary pads and water to various camps to help their fellow people and this has not been reported in the international media.  I know that those living in high income areas have come together through their resident organisations to collect money to buy foods stuff through the malls and supermarket chains who are then distributing the same to those who have been displaced, however, I am yet to see this
on any international media.  I know the middle income class have through churches, women organisations and various youth groups are forming security cauldrons where they lives so that those who are taking advantage of the situation such as armed hooligans, have to go through them first before reaching their men and women.

I probably don’t have all the facts, and there may be a lot more going on in the deep parts of the clash prone areas, but I am convinced that American and European television consumers thrive on bad news and that they thrive on bad news especially from Africa.

In Kenya however, we don’t believe in spreading negativity and paranoia to our citizens.  I believe that everyone thrives on positivity and this is reflected in the way that CNN or Aljazeera packages news from their own atrocities in a way that does not draw panic from their own citizens or from the rest of the world.

If Africa is so bad, why then do they keep coming here? So that our poor can believe that they can’t live without Aid?  So that Africans can continue believing that they are primitive and cannot lift themselves out of poverty?  So that Africans can keep spawning a generation that only know how to receive and not to give?  Why do you think Kenyans laughed Dr Alfred Mutua’s generous donation to Katrina victims?  Is it because we were finally giving and not receiving from Europe for once?

I will never support any sort of focus on propagation of negative information about Africa and in particular, my country Kenya. It’s simply annoying and it does not do our citizens any good. However, I will support those who highlight where there is a problem and in the same breath highlight what Kenyans and Africans are doing to meet these needs and where the help is needed.