The Lily Review

5 Ways To Work Your Way Up!

Naomi Kinyanjui — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 05:00:54 +0000

We all try to impress our bosses daily. And we do it with the intention that they should in return consider us for upcoming promotions, give us great appraisals and approve a fat pay rise. It’s always a challenge trying to come up with interesting ways to make the bosses notice you more than other people. So I have a couple of ideas which I have personally tried and tested that can help you get ahead of the pack.

1. Work Smart
Ok you may think this is so straight forward that you don’t need to read it. Truth be told most of us don’t work smart, we are ok with the job we have, we mind our own business and we are ok with getting to work at 8.00am-ish, we are ok because it’s just a job after all, the company isn’t even mine. WRONG mentality.

Working smart means be productive and do your job with excellence within the time that you are meant to be working. If it’s a report required then do it like it’s an exam, if it’s a spreadsheet then make it look fabulous. Working smart means stand out from the rest in small noticeable ways.

In my previous job I used to be up to my eyeballs in spreadsheets so each time I was asked for a summary I would challenge myself to make that spreadsheet look spectacular. I would make it colorful, short, straight forward and easy to understand, well spaced and played around with the fonts. It always looked professional and I realized that my boss began to ask me for spreadsheet summaries for things we didn’t normally summarize. That equaled more responsibility to me and a pay rise in my face.

2. Volunteer yourself to Others
Sometimes it feels good to help other people just because you can, not necessarily expecting anything back in return. Try it! It presents an opportunity to show how good you are at what you can do. It also allows your bosses to understand that you can work a challenge no matter what it is.

Volunteering to others can sometimes not be possible if you have a work load of your own, but it helps when you find yourself a bit free to be courteous enough to ask others if they need help. Obviously there’s the clear difference between volunteering to help, plain bragging and being walked all over. So do it with good intentions.

3. Meet your deadlines
As an employee there is nothing more important (besides showing up for work) than meeting set deadlines. Even if the work is not requested for immediately, you will be assured it is ready when the time for presenting it comes forth. Meeting deadlines is all about being able to present your task within a set given time line. Do not procrastinate a task you have been given because that is exactly how a back log of work and disorganization begins. You don’t want to reach that level and if you are in that level then get organized at work!

4. Be Knowledgeable
Knowledge is power. Be knowledgeable about your industry, your competitors: what are they doing? Also be knowledgeable about each and every aspect of the company you work for. Don’t be in your own little cubicle bubble not showing interest in the rest of the departments. Get to know your colleagues, who the directors are, who the top notch mangers are, in a friendly and professional manner and not in a social one per se.

It is also good to know what the company is currently working on, who’s doing what, what’s happening when. Remember, you were not hired to come socialize in the work place you were hired to work and since you get your agreed paycheck at the end of each month then it only follows that you should keep your end of the bargain, hard as it may be. Read up on trends going on in the world focusing on your industry because this will help you hold out a conversation should a boss randomly begin a conversation with you some day. This also helps you contribute something positive in meetings, and generate ideas for your department, there are loads of pluses for keeping knowledgeable.

5. Pay Attention
Not just to your surroundings but also to your own behavior and appearance. We like to think that we can get away with small little things in the office like gossiping in the kitchen, taking long lunches, too many social phone calls on office lines, doing minimal work per day to appear busy and skimming through the newspaper on your employers’ time. Small habits often always become instilled into your brain and soon enough they seem ok to do.

As you show up for work every day, remember that you are a reflection of your company so dress appropriately. I get so disturbed when I walk in town and see a young lady dressed in a hot looking suit and smart, I then look at her feet and yes there you have it, a pair of sandal slippers. Are we being serious? Dress your part and things happen. I recall that my boss often picked me to go for meetings because I looked very professional even though it was clear that someone else was supposed to go for those meetings. Tagging along helped me meet numerous people and helped me form a rapport with my boss.

As I sign out may we remember we are paid to work not to find out the latest hot story reverberating across the corridors.

Image credits: StillSearc and Shadowkill

Quarter-life Crisis

bailey — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 06:51:14 +0000

I am at a place where I don’t know anything.

Coming from someone who has always known what she wanted from life, this is scary, to say the least. Further studies, well, those have been put on hold as I decide what it is I even want to do, if there is anything I even want to do!

My job, well, let’s just say me and Job are not so in love anymore. Somewhere along the way, my love for dear Job faded. When I wake up in the morning, I don’t think fondly of Job. I don’t look forward to seeing and hanging out with Job. In fact, I confess, I’d rather hang out with Bed and TV than Job.

Moreover, I am at a stalemate with my career. It’s gotten to a point where I am even wondering why I studied what I did. It’s like some strange sort of epiphany that I am getting: was this really what I wanted to do with my life? How can I change my mind so fast when ever since I was a teenager I knew what I wanted to do? How can one year change my mind, my perspective, make me question my whole plan for my life?

At this point, nothing is appealing, well, except back-packing to Italy to become a writer and painter who plays guitar on the streets for extra cash. Seriously.

Then there is the guy area. Well, there really isn’t anyone in the horizon. Well, there are some…one I don’t feel anything for, and one I feel loads for but clearly he doesn’t feel the same way. It’s disappointing to lay all your hopes and dreams at the whim of a person then it turns out that you had it all wrong; that those hopes and dreams should not have been pegged on him, or on anyone for that matter.

Maybe this is why I feel so disillusioned. Or maybe not. I don’t even know! (Refer to the first sentence I wrote).

How does one get out of a quarter-life crisis? Is it like the mid-life crisis where a middle-aged woman suddenly wants to wear skinny jeans, go out all night and take impromptu road trips? Or like when a middle-aged man suddenly wants to chat up young girls young enough to be his daughters, pierces his ears and sags his jeans?

What do you do in a quarter-life crisis?

Photo credit: andrewatla

My Smelly Princess [Part 3]

lawrence — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 05:00:58 +0000

Daisy is one insightful girl. It’s one of her most endearing qualities, and often times, her main source of headaches. How I forgot this little fact I still don’t know. Friday evenings would typically be either movie nights, game nights or a combination of both. It had always been an unfair arrangement since we would both retire at the wee hours of the morning yet I had to report to work on Saturdays, while she didn’t. I really didn’t mind it though.

For a whole week, I had been trying to figure out the best way to tell my girlfriend, who was mad at me half the time, that another girl, who happened to be a million times prettier than her, had come to my house, used our(my) shower, dressed up in her clothes, including that red top that she had asked about at least thrice so far, and now wanted me to meet up with her the next week to catch up, you know, like old friends. There was no easy way in sight, but I was determined to find it.

Come Friday, and there were, cuddled on the Sofa watching a movie whose title escapes my memory. “Sweetie, I need to ask you something” she announced in the middle of some romantic scene. She never entertained interruptions while a movie was on, a habit that happens to be a major weakness of mine.

“Yeah, of course babe” My nerves warned me that this wasn’t good.

“Are you cheating on me?” I almost choked on the peanut in my mouth.

“What!?”

“I asked, are you cheating on me?” she repeated calmly, making no effort to pull away. That peanut was now painfully finding its way down my esophagus.

“Uhm, I’m sorry but where is that coming from?” The romantic scene gave way to some boring dialogue, which I wasn’t listening to or watching anymore.

“It’s simple really. For almost a week, we haven’t had a fight, you have been unusually polite, you have been cleaning your dishes, and you just spent 45 minutes without interrupting the movie.”

I hated how calm she would become when we were about to start a fight. It always got me worked up even more. Today was different though. I had no strong case to support my stubbornness. Plus she was still in my arms, staring at the Television as if she had just made a passing comment.

I made an attempt at mock laughter.

“Have you thought that maybe I’m just trying to become a better boyfriend?” Even I wasn’t convinced by that. I threw in a peck on her neck to support my feeble defense.

“Yes I have. That’s not it, and you know it. So let me ask again…”

“I got it the first time Daisy. The answer is an offended No. I’m not cheating on you”

“Ok. So what is it then?” She hit pause on the remote, and disengaged herself from the confines of my arms. Now she was eyeing me straight on, awaiting her answer.

“Frankly, I don’t like the tone of your voice. And the fact that you would baselessly accuse me…” My pride was at work.

“Damn it Lawrence! I know you too well. You are hiding something from me”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think Sweetie. Maybe you are in one of your moods again and you just need someone to vent it out on. Maybe you are the one cheating on me and are now pulling some reverse psychology stunt!!”

“Excuse Me!!?” I could see that last statement hurt her. I cursed myself a little bit for it. Daisy would never cheat on me. But I wasn’t giving in to her condescension.

“I mean, we are peacefully watching T.V, and all of a sudden…”

“So you won’t tell me what it is?” She had switched to the firm tone. This fight was about to get ugly.

“Who the hell do you think you are Daisy? Pointing accusing fingers and issuing ultimatums…” As always, I stood up waving my arms in the air in mock frustration. She never stood up.

“Lawrence if I think something is wrong…”

“If you think something is wrong, find a more respectful way to raise it!!!!”

“And what did I do that was so disrespectful? I simply asked you a question…don’t be such a child Lawrence!”

That was it. She had crossed my path.

“Oh, so what are you now, my Mum?? ”

Fifteen minutes later, we were still at it. I was still standing, she was still sitting. The fight had spread its wings to cover topics I wouldn’t have thought of before. A battle of wits is what it had come down to. Until I announced my exit.

“F*** you Daisy?? F*** you and your self righteousness!!I’m out of here!”

“No!! Don’t bother, it’s your house sweetheart, I’ll go!” This was new, but I didn’t realize it at the heat of
the moment.

“Good! Finally we know who owns this house!”

She disappeared into the bedroom, came out ten seconds later with her hand bag and one of her fifty something pairs of shoes and slammed the door behind her.

That weekend passed without a single phone call between us. Come Sunday evening, and Tim calls me up.

“Dude, are you cheating on Daisy?” Apparently Daisy had called him to ask if he knew what was up with me, but I had kept him in the dark about Crystal as well, so he wasn’t of much help to her.

“Oh, so now the whole world has branded me a cheating moron?” I always retreat to sarcasm when I feel cornered.

“No, not the whole world dude. Just Daisy. And you need to fix this before it’s too late” Tim was somehow always right about stuff. He and Daisy had always made such a good team that I often wondered what she was doing with me. I decided to spill out the Crystal saga to him.

“Ha ha ha!! This is so hilarious man!” Tim can be such a punk sometimes.

“It’s not a laughing matter bro. Daisy would kill me if she found out about this.”

“Did you seriously give out her clothes? You are such an fala! Then you pick a fight with her??…”

“She started it! And you are not helping Tim!”

“Ok, here’s the deal bro. Call Daisy and apologize for being an idiot, and then tell her everything, except may be that part about giving out her clothes. Oh, then delete Crystal’s number and no meeting with her next week!”

“That sounds great, except for one thing Tim”

“A ha…”

“Do you remember Marie?”

There was a long pause before Tim finally whispered a stifled “Oh Yes!”

I don’t even know where to start about Marie. Tim often said that if he was about to die and he was granted one last wish, his wish would be to have one last glance at Marie. About a year back, on a boys’ weekend out in Mombasa, we stumbled upon sweet Marie as she strolled alone on the beach. Simply put, she revived my childhood beliefs about the existence of mermaids. Tim had never gotten over her but that’s a story for another day.

There was another long nostalgic hiatus before Tim finally said, “You better have a good reason for mentioning her name man!” I had touched a really soft spot.

“Crystal is like three Maries put together after a very refreshing swim.”

“Oh boy! And you never told me about her? Our friendship is hanging on thin ice bro. Tread carefully.”

“Chill man, I was confused and had tried to forget about Crystal until that night last week. And here is another problem.”

“Ehem”

“I just happen to be her knight in shining armor. It’s a straight pass bro!!”

“That’s the dream dude.”

“I know Tim. Well? Say something intelligent!”

“Ok, this is the point where you need to ask the million dollar question”

“How deep is my Love for Daisy?”

“Exactly.”

The last time Tim and I had this exchange was during the Marie fiasco. He came out alive and salvaged his relationship with Christine. It was now my turn.

“In two months time you’ll celebrate your one year anniversary with Daisy bro. You are so close. It pains me to say it, but you need to call Crystal and tell her you can’t meet her next week, or ever.”

“Damn you Tim! Alright, I’ll do it.”

I called Crystal. She took the news so well that I almost asked to meet her maybe one last time. Through
some miracle, I didn’t. Then I called Daisy, who calmly absorbed the tale like the angel she was.

After a heart wrenching ten-minute story telling on my part, and silence on her part, she finally said, “Wow. She must have been really pretty.”

“Well…” This was a trap. Tim had warned me about this many times. But this was Daisy. There was no
pretense with her.

“If you saw her, I swear sweetie you would strongly consider becoming a bi-sexual” I was getting carried
away.

“Would she be open to a threesome?”

“W-w-wha-what?????” All the saliva in my mouth instantly evaporated.

“Kidding! I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep pumpkin!” Click. She was gone. Daisy was a heartless witch that I was so madly in Love with.

Daisy and I broke up before we could get to celebrate our one year anniversary. It had nothing to do with Crystal though. Trust me when I say this. In my adult life, I don’t think anything has left me as distraught as that breakup did. She was beautiful, intelligent, strong willed and sly as a fox.

A New Dawn

miamor — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 05:00:00 +0000

“It’s a new day, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new life…” or so goes the jazz song. On August 27th 2010, the new Kenyan constitution was promulgated.

PS: I finally looked up the meaning of this long, eagerly used word and according to The Collins Paperback English Dictionary, Promulgation is “1. to put into effect (a law or decree) by announcing it officially…2. to make widespread.” Now you know; you’re welcome

CONGRATULATIONS to all Kenyans for making this huge, life- altering decision. Regardless of how one voted, let’s all move FORWARD and create a new life for ourselves and our future generations.

Speaking of promulgation, it’s appears that it is also a new dawn in the telecommunication industry, what with all the fighting between Zain and Safaricom. I’m not gonna lie, I was so thrilled to see Zain land a huge blow to Safaricom. The truth is, Safaricom had become Suffericom; the bitter option for me. This may not be the most original line but gosh, it precisely and consisely expresses my feelings toward Safaricom. This company had become so arrogant and complacent but I stuck it out because I didn’t think there was a better option; I simply didn’t trust Zain and definitely wasn’t sure about YU.

Now that the battle has begun, I can’t wait to see the changed landscape when the dust finally settles. Until then, I’ll be getting my Zain line as soon as I can figure out how to get my exact number with a different dialing code (0722/0733 etc). Now, if only I could finally get a hold of a dual-sim phone or better yet, triple sim.

For Kenya AND the Kenyan Telecommunications industry, it really is a wonderful world.

Kenya’s 2nd Colonization

Kenya’s 2nd Colonization

miamor — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 05:30:11 +0000

What’s up with Kenyans’ obsession with all things American???

Case in point 1: Why on earth do we price things in US Dollars? I mean, when Kenya Airways advertises flights in USD, is that their way of telling us that they’re now “The Pride of America”? I know we have a lot of foreigners living here or travelling here but surely, does that mean that we must now ape what they do, say and are?

Is it just me or didn’t we already go through this obsession in the mid to late 90’s? I remember it like it was yesterday: Kenyans would flock the embassy (at the time, located in the city center) in the wee hours of the morning only to be met with cold, steely eyes. It was like a lottery into ‘heaven’, and those who didn’t get in felt like losers. I thought that whole mess had calmed down a bit but I realize now that it has only begun.

Case in point 2: Our constitution. Before you toss the rotten tomatoes, allow me to say this: our constitution seems to be a shameless copy of the American constitution. My issue is not in the actual passing of the constitution. It’s in the wording and structure. We may (or may not) need a new constitution but why must it be so Americanized.

This is really what I’m irritated about: we, as Kenyans, don’t seem to have a sense of national pride. We can say “Najivunia” blah blah blah but in reality, we’re desperate to look like them – whoever and whatever they may be. We want to wear what they wear, eat what they eat, talk the way they talk even if it sounds so damn fake (some cases excluded though).

We may complain about being colonized but at the risk of sounding I-donno-what, let me say that our first colonization was not our choice but our second colonization surely is.

When will we as Kenyans stand up and truly and proudly be counted?

A New Dawn

Cell phone Decorum @Work

Naomi Kinyanjui — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 05:15:39 +0000

This particular post is brought on because of a fellow colleague here in my office. We were all rather busy into our work, hitting keyboards and there it goes. The loudest ringtone I had ever heard in our open plan office space.

Rule No. 1: When at work there’s really no need to have your ring tone at volume 5 with a tone from some bump and grind hit song from last year. The single beep or vibrate works just as good. Loud crazy ring tones serves no good for anyone because we as your colleagues get distracted and we immediately have random thoughts of what sort of a person you actually are since you have that particular tone. She grabs her cell phone and lets it ring a little longer in her hands. What exactly is the purpose of this? We all have cellphones there really isn’t any need to seek attention.

Rule No 2: “Hey sweeeeeeetie! Baiibee, sema…. aaaawwh…” she says excitedly while giggling rather loudly. There is no need to begin a conversation at the work place like this especially when it seems like all you are trying to do is get the rest of us to stop working and focus on you. There goes concentration out the window, I guess we have no choice but to listen in on the conversation. After a few “mmhs” “aaahs” “eeehs” She sounds mad and her voice starts going higher and higher. “HOW DARE YOU!” she shouts, possibly forgetting she’s in the office.

Rule No 3: Keep the drama out of the office, I mean we don’t really need to know you have drama let alone what it’s about. She starts frowning, rather upset but this time she is trying to keep her cool since people are now noticing that there is something up. When a personal conversation gets heated at your work place you always have the option of telling the caller that you will have to talk later after work because you are busy. Save face and keep your drama at home. She hangs up and shoves the phone on her desk. The caller decides to call her back, more bump and grind volume 5 behind the scenes and she stares at the phone. “Kwani she’s been dumped on the phone?” we all began to wonder, throwing a few stares her way and at each other.

Rule No 4: Off button on your cell phone is there to be used every now and then. “What??!” she says as she picks. “No” “Why” “I can’t” “No” “On Saturday” the one word answering goes on for a short time after which she hungs up less angrier at the caller this time but still looking ticked off. Mmmh I guess he sweet talked her, now that we are all involved in the drama I may as well contribute something to make the story seem more interesting in my head.

Rule No 5: “Jane can you believe that guy, haki these men, I hate them all aaahhhh!!” Don’t involve fellow office members in your domestics it’s never cool in any way at all, its plain tacky. Jane stares at her wondering what the heck she is on. Colleagues will only end up wondering if you are crazy and honestly they don’t care about your drama, they have their own issues they are dealing with.

Let’s stick to the beep and vibrate while in the office, they work just as good. I guess all I’m asking is: “Je, huu ni ungwaaana?”

How to lose a guy in 10 days

crystal — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 05:40:35 +0000

I love to read articles about understanding men, mostly from the home page on MSN. Every time I discover some delicious new fact about our Martians, I try it out on my better half. His response is always something like, ‘The trouble with women is that they take all their man-talk from other women.’

I always want to yell, ‘Men don’t talk about their feelings, so we have to discover them through other women … or gay friends!’ And somehow I don’t think man advice from a gay pal counts for much, because their thought process is painfully close to mine.

Unless of course he’s a guy-gay, in which case he probably knows nothing about women.

When the movie first came out in 2003, I swore I wouldn’t watch it. My swearing didn’t have any particular motive. It wasn’t about being macho and resisting chick flicks, even though I had just watched that traumatising movie with Renée Zellwegger. I don’t remember what it’s called, but it had a lot of pink, and one scene had a simulated split screen lap dance dry humping thing … which some people found funny, but I found incredibly sad.

The real reason I avoided 10 days is because from what I could see in the preview, I was definitely a 10 days kind of girl, and nobody needs that kind of affirmation.

The thing is, some girls do strange things. We get clingy and possessive in ways that the average man finds unattractive. We get jealous and start cat fights with no justification. Now, I know guys can fight over a woman and call it noble. Many wars have started this way. But when the fight is between two cats, well, that’s just stupid.

I bumped into the 10 days movie on UTV over the weekend, and I actually liked it. It was sweet. I liked that the girl made the first move, but the guy was convinced it was his idea. She left tickets in his house, yet he was sure he had convinced her to ask him to a ballgame. That was cool. I also like that in the end, the guy comes after the girl, not the other way around.

Best of all though, was that he fell for her despite her acting insane. Of course by the time he came after her, he knew the insanity was fake, which counts for something. Chances are he liked the sexy, sporty girl he watched ball with on their second date – before all the craziness began.

The way I see it, some girls can’t help being crazy. I’m speaking for myself here. I’m just wired that way. I’m clingy and jealous and sometimes insecure, and it’s enough to make a guy hang himself. I’d like to think my man loves the craziness in me, but I think he mostly puts up with it because of other … skills … that I may or may not possess.

Truth is though, that guys don’t know what they love in a woman. They aren’t like us who can analyse every affection and say we love his humour, or his height, or that look he gets in his eyes when you … cook. Guys love you because they love you, period. And once they say those words, assuming they’re not players who say it 20 times a day, then they’re pretty much sold.

A straight male friend told me that people are afraid to get what they want. You love man or woman, you get together with them, then instead of being happy and enjoying the experience, you start to think you’ll lose them and freak out. In his words, you start doing stuff like losing weight or gaining weight or learning a sport to make him love you more, or to make sure his love will never stop. According to him, at some point you just have to accept that this person loves you, period. Stop fighting and just live.

It’s a lot easier to say than it is to do. In my case, I have a man that loves me despite all my insanity, and I try to accept that. It just makes life easier.

Of course, it also helps to avoid doing crazy 10-day things like photo-shopping baby pictures or calling up his mother. Unless she calls you first.

Welcome To The Rat Race

Naomi Kinyanjui — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 05:00:51 +0000

We are all in the Rat Race, albeit in different categories: recent graduate, job hunter, employee or employer. We get caught up very often trying to keep up with this rat race. I believe that most people would love to sign out of the race and join in something different and somewhat more relaxed, but that would make life very boring and predictable. The rat race has us constantly working ourselves to death to earn a pay which is then supposed to balance our lifestyles and the cycle goes on, most of us with an added twist of an ever hovering boss around our necks.

A friend of mine who I admire has come to teach me that I should never be mediocre even if I am in the rat race. The reason we got to talking in this direction is due to the circumstance we both found ourselves in. We signed up to undertake a one year project between an NGO and a Ministry. We were both coming from private sector where working culture is fairly different from gover.

We have found ourselves in very frustrating situations that we have had no control over and that are to say the least extremely discouraging and demotivating. He resigned due to the various frustrations. He is much older than I am so I totally respect his decision and he has truly shown that being mediocre doesn’t get you very far. In his explanation he sees that being here is not adding value to his life or career and is in fact adding more negatives than positives, he would rather move to a more fulfilling position where he can add value as a true professional as opposed to faking it at the Ministry. As I open this blog I hope to encourage many women and men out there to sit back and take a look at the rat race you are in, are you mediocre?

Challenges come and go in the work place, and some days are better than others. The truth though, a job is never really meant to make you happy. You decide to be happy irrespective of your circumstance and work environment. No person will make you happy, no job will make you happy. If you think about it the rat race has its frustrations but you have to go out of your way to make it work for you.

Moving…Help Wanted

miamor — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 07:30:23 +0000

My good people, I have news. Big news. HUUUUUGE news! Are you ready? I hope so because after I tell you, I’m gonna need your help, ok?

I’M MOVING. Countries. Continents! I’m desperate for a change after 8 months in one place. Commitment-phobe anyone? LOL. Reasons don’t matter so much; maybe it’s just an itch that needs to be scratched (I’ve been known to do a couple of radical things every few years, including piercing my navel and shaving my head) or something more meaningful. All I know is that it could be a wonderfully life changing experience. Who knows?

Here’s where I need your help. I need a country to go to. Haha…there goes a sentence I never thought I’d say I’d prefer if it was in Europe and definitely not North America (nothing personal it’s just that I’ve been there done that. I need a change). Here are some things to keep in mind:

1. I’m black. I don’t usually say that since I don’t think it matters but if I’m going to move to a European country, I’d like it to be not-so-blatantly racist. Just to be clear, I’m not looking for a perfect land; just a place where I won’t end up in actual danger based solely on the color of my skin.

2. I’m college-educated up to Master’s level (and there may be even more higher education in my near future). In other words, I can work legally, haha. Seriously though, this point is because it might help you help me figure out where to go and what to do when I get there.

3. I’m young enough to enjoy some adventure and old enough to enjoy (and value) some culture. I’m pretty open

4. I’m not super picky about weather (although Arctica might be pushing it )

5. I’m not rushing to leave tomorrow but I’m aiming for at least within the next 6-12 months; just fyi

6. I’m not looking to relocate permanently so much as I’m looking to be someplace new for a year or two or whatever. Life is short and I want to pack as much of it as possible into my own life.

Help a sista out.

Until next time, besos!

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Jeggings

irene — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 05:00:25 +0000

The fashion world has been taken over by a particular item this season: the leggings. Let us face it, this is a very comfortable garment which can be easily dressed down, and dressed up with just the help of a few accessories. No wonder it has take then world by storm.

However another garment has now hit the stores, which is definitely competing for the spotlight! Enter the jeggings. If you have never heard the term before, do not worry, this is a term many might still be unfamiliar with. Jeggings are essential a style of leggings, in particular the denim leggings. The term has been coined by merging the word ‘jeans’ and ‘leggings’… hence jeggings!

Jeans are a staple item in everyone’s wardrobe these days, though some women might find jeans to be a bit uncomfortable at times. On days when feeling bloated, many women complain that their jeans feel too tight at the waist. The zipper at times also feels uncomfortable, and at times actually ruins the fabric of tight fitting tops, when the fabric rubs against the exposed zipper. So although jeans are a favorite, there is definitely room for improvement.

That’s where jeggings come in. They offer a lot of comfort, and some women might actually be ready to ditch their jeans and switch to leggings, especially if they are into skinny jeans. Jeggins come in many different variations, fabrics and tones. You can find dark blue one, light blue, acid wash styles, as well as black denim jeggings. Some type of jeggings are made out of real denim, whilst other are made from soft touch fabric, so they look like jeans, but are actually much more comfortable and smooth.

Furthermore, there are some styles of jeggings which include the thread and stitching details a regular pair of jeans would, including for instance fake stitching at the back to mimic back pockets. Then there are other styles which are completely stitching free.

There are various types of jeggings on the market nowadays, and the more time passes the more styles are being created. Jeggings can definitely be a breath of fresh air to women who like regular jeans but find them uncomfortable. Of course they definitely make a nice extra addition to all female closets.

Hottest Trends of the Decade

An obsession with fads

Njoki — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 05:00:23 +0000

Human psychology shall forever remain a mystery to me, it’s funny how our minds are tricked into doing something because others are doing it, or because you will be considered cool once you do it. When it comes to fashion, there are items which seem to flood the market over a certain period of time. Our minds are tricked into purchasing these items because everyone across the globe seems top have one and we don’t want to be left behind. I have to admit that women are the worst victims when it comes to fashion fads, we spend so much money buying something that we will only wear for a few months and if you happen to be a laggard you’ll probably get to wear them a couple of times.

Sometimes those items that are considered to be in fashion are not suitable for everyone, yet we still insist on buying them anyway. For example the jumpsuit seems to have crawled back from the cave it went to in the early 90s or was it late 80s. I think the only girl who looks good in a jump suit is one who’s is petite, if you know you are above size 10 don’t even think of purchasing one, no offense to the big girls am a size 12 and I am yet to see anyone my size looking good in a jump suit.

Last year there was a yellow breakout and suddenly every woman’s favourite colour seemed to be yellow, from head bands, to earrings to clothes, shoes you name it there seemed to be one in yellow. Yellow is a very bright colour and one should be very careful when matching head to toe yellow, especially if you have got very dark skin. The yellow outbreak according to my rating was the worst fashion fad in the last decade, unless you can come up with others.

The Mohawk hairdo is another fad which was completely abused; sometimes I thought there was a peacock or even a real Mohawk walking in front of me. I have to admit the hair do is quite good if it’s on the right head. Not all shapes can handle a Mohawk; I think some hair designers should be sued for allowing their clients to look so ridiculous it’s a hilarious, but pitiful site at the same time.

I thought monster bags were a fad but boy was I wrong, I think they get bigger and uglier by the season. I do own a big bag but not big enough to carry a human in it. My bag fits everything I need so I fail to understand what women carry in these bags, could someone please tell me?

I believe that everyone should create an identity, it is not wrong to get engulfed in fads but make sure it is something you look good and feel good in. Having you own style makes you one of a kind and not just part of the list, and at the same time it reduces the pressure of having to own what every other woman in the world owns.

Beauty Odyssey

beautyo — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 05:00:31 +0000

“Beauty is more than skin-deep. Beauty is unique grace and confidence, a shining light that sparkles through the eyes and smile. It’s not what you look like; it’s what you project.” – Beauty Den

Beauty Odyssey mainly focuses on improving our physical appearance by using cosmetics. Today I would like us to focus ourselves. I picked the term “Beauty Odyssey” because life is a journey. It’s a constant evolution and with each passing year comes changes. These changes also occur in our bodies, our looks, and our skin. How we deal with these inevitable changes is entirely up to us. As women, we are constantly focusing our attention on our flaws. We need to learn to appreciate ourselves as we are and always have the right attitude. All the make up and cosmetics in the world will not make us feel better about ourselves.

I think the media plays a big role in how we feel about ourselves. When we pick up that glossy magazine, most of us are aware that the model on the cover page has been digitally retouched. But there is always that little part of us that wishes for that flawless skin, beautiful body, perfect hair, and perfect smile. We need to always remember that the models you see in the glossy pages don’t always portray reality. They are human beings just like us and deal with the same issues like we do such as blemishes, dark circles, fine lines and wrinkles, stretch marks and a whole host of other problems. In addition it takes a whole team of makeup artists, hairstylists, fashion stylists, photographers, art directors and photo retouchers to create that beautiful illusion. It’s an exaggerated perfection, something that no human being could ever look like.

Women from all walks of life, all crave the same thing – to look pretty and feel good. Looking your best is a combination of acquiring knowledge, accepting the things you can’t change and having confidence in yourself.
To help us on our way to appreciating ourselves, here are some natural beauty tips from www.beauty-secrets4u.com.

Natural Beauty Tip 1: Be Yourself
We are all beautiful in our own way and natural beauty is making the most of the looks you already have. It is learning to feel comfortable in your own skin and accepting yourself for who you are. When you are comfortable with yourself you will be relaxed and happy in any situation.

Natural beauty is about being true to yourself and believing in yourself. By bringing out your individuality, you can make yourself into a rare and special person and that is what natural beauty is all about.

Natural Beauty Tip 2: Eat Sensibly
Eat for beauty. Feed your skin with all the nutrients it needs to radiate with good health and vitality. A healthy complexion is naturally beautiful. Simply changing your diet will have a significant effect on the condition of your skin, hair and nails. You will add a sparkle to your eyes, feel better and have more energy too. A healthy body is paramount for natural beauty.

Natural Beauty Tip 3: Take Regular Exercise
Transform yourself into a thing of beauty by taking regular exercise. Walking for 30 minutes 3 times a week is enough to tone up every muscle in your body. And a toned and supple body is extremely beautiful. Exercise will improve your blood circulation which will give your skin a healthy radiant glow. In fact, eating a healthy diet and taking plenty of exercise will also have a tremendous impact on the mechanisms that control the aging of your body as well. With these mechanisms inhibited, the aging process will slow down, especially the aging of the skin. So you can stay beautiful for longer.

Natural Beauty Tip 4: Look After Your Hair
Your hair should be your crowning glory. Have it trimmed regularly to maintain its shape, keep it well conditioned so that it is soft and bouncy. A head of healthy, soft, shiny hair is an instant morale booster and will do wonders for your self esteem.

Natural Beauty Tip 5: Improve Your Posture
A simple change in your posture can improve your appearance instantly and will also help to reduce aches and pains in your neck and back. Your head is the heaviest part of your body and if it’s not perfectly balanced over your shoulders you will experience pain in your neck, shoulders or middle back area. Even if you don’t at the moment, years of bad posture will eventually take its toll as you grow older.

Natural Beauty Tip 6: Enhance Your Walk
How you walk says a lot about how you are feeling inside and about the way you see yourself. Follow this tip: when you walk add sensuality to your movements and put a distinct swing to your stride by moving from your hips. Think of models on the catwalk and how they move. Put you hands on your hips and let your hips lead the movement. It is a diagonal movement with a definite twist to the torso − as the right hip goes forwards so does the left shoulder and as the left hip moves forward so does the right shoulder. Feel your waist twist and stretch as the spine rotates from left to right. Keep your movements smooth and sensual.

Natural Beauty Tip 7: Pamper Yourself
Take time out for yourself every day and do something just for you. Show yourself self respect by putting yourself high on your list of priorities. Do whatever gives you pleasure; a walk in the park, a lunch date with a friend, or just quiet time to reflect. Let others see that you care about yourself and they will respect you for it too.

Natural Beauty Tip 8: Be Your Own Best Friend
Silence your inner voice when it criticizes and focus on all the things you like about yourself. We all have bad points, the secret is to focus on your good points and make the most of them.

Natural Beauty Tip 9: Set Realistic Goals
Imagine yourself with clear bright eyes, a smooth and flawless skin, well conditioned lustrous hair and a toned and supple body. All these are possible if you set yourself reachable targets, follow a simple plan and allow enough time to bring them about.

Natural Beauty Tip 10: Nobody Is Perfect
Try to remember, nobody is perfect and if you look for faults, you will more than likely find them. Never, ever compare yourself to pictures of air-brushed models. If you see these same models without their make-up they are just ordinary people, but put into the hands of talented make-up artists and then modified by sophisticated computer programs the result is something that is unreal and false.

Natural Beauty Tip 11: Build Your Self-Esteem
Natural beauty comes from the process of building real self-esteem. Self esteem that does not rely on what other people may think of you. This process includes self realization, self knowledge, self awareness and self respect. Spend some time discovering your own inner qualities and appreciating them. Express them freely for the benefit of others. Gradually come to know your own unique natural beauty.

Natural Beauty Tip 12: Become A Confident Woman
Confident women who take pride in their appearance are a joy to watch because self-confidence is one of the most attractive traits a woman can possess. When you ooze self-confidence you become a magnet to those around you. So work on gaining the confidence to stand up and say ‘I am who I am’ then show the world your unique natural beauty.

Online Shopping

Suki — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 06:20:13 +0000

Online shopping is very new to us Kenyans and most of us haven’t tried it yet. You don’t have to ask why it hasn’t become popular what with fraudsters so common in Nairobi. Many have fallen prey to cyber crime around the world so it’s wise to tread with caution with this online shopping thingy.

Let me share my personal experience.

Most of you especially Facebook users have seen many online shopping advertising their goodies. Well there is one which specialises in bags and seeing this advert like 3 times a day on Facebook my curiosity was aroused.

I browsed the goods quickly, liked several bags but decided on one and went directly to the ‘How to order’ page. I read the terms and was very pleased to see that there was a cash on delivery option. After some deliberation and a tug of war between me, myself and common sense, I won.

I ordered for the bag.

I requested for it to be delivered the same day and by noon I had it and it was as I had anticipated.

Now I am a fan.

Pros

It’s good for those people who are pressed for time you browse, order and voila, you have your merchandise.
It’s also convenient as most of the sites promise a maximum delivery time of 48 hours, you can also make your preference known especially if it’s urgent.
Apart from your eyes and fingers, you don’t need to walk from shop to shop looking for the right dress, shoe, bag etc.
Some sites ship for free to your doorstep so it’s cost effective.
You can browse as many goods as you like (sizing them up with your eyes of course) without a shop’s attendant nagging.

Cons

Takes the fun out of shopping for some of us who enjoy the experience of trying out a gazillion outfits before deciding on one.
If they are delivering outside Nairobi, some sites require you to pay upfront before the goods are dispatched which can be tricky.
The merchandise can turn out to be a disappointment, sometimes what you see isn’t what you get.
The goods are usually quite costly.
Chances of getting conned are high especially if cash is required upfront. Always shop from trusted and well known sites.
Sharing plastic information online especially on email isn’t secure.
Too many scammers out there, always double check the address of the site then read the privacy and security policy and the terms and conditions well.

Well the advantages/disadvantages are many and they will continue to grow as this kind of shopping grows in Kenya. There are quite a few sites that peddle their goods online and you can get pretty much anything especially for your wardrobe thanks to technology.

Online shopping or not? Your choice.

So much for my happy ending…

crystal — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 05:00:19 +0000

I’m not a big believer in internet dating, even though I’ve met a lot of loved ones that way. The whole concept just seems contrived and artificial. Though, for the record, I’m not big on offline dating agencies either.

It’s a bit different when you’re not going online specifically to find a mate. I found the love of my life on a website for writers, and what started out as an exchange of style and prose ended up in a beautiful relationship.

This story – the one I’m about to tell – started with a pretty girl looking for a dance partner. The reason she couldn’t find one offline is that she’s tall. Really, really tall. Naomi Campbell in spiked heels is a dwarf to her kind of tall.

The girl’s name is Keisha, and she’s 6 foot 5.

Keisha wanted to find someone to dance with for … whatever reason. The online stories don’t say. She went on a site for tall people, and a guy named Wilco responded to her question with ‘I’m 7 feet tall, is that enough?’

Years later, the couple are happily married with two beautiful [and extremely tall] multicoloured babies.

What I like about this story is that it reminds me of My Love, who’s 6 foot 3 of pure vanilla. It also shows me that it’s possible to beat the odds if you just take a risk.

Lots of supermodels end up marrying short pudgy men because the tall guys are busy hooking up with tiny girls. [And also because short pudgy men have lots of money. It's all in the Napoleon complex.]

I like the story because Keisha took a chance and put herself out there, and by taking a risk, she nabbed herself one of the few guys outside NBA that’s taller than her.

I’m sure that their fairytale wasn’t without black spots. But the tabloids found nothing to hate on, so the couple must be very discreet, a key thing in any successful marriage.

I’m also sure they had to learn to blend, to get along, to curl into one another’s lives. They couldn’t be the perfect couple just because they’re both tall! They had to put together different backgrounds, lifestyles, families, in-laws, not to mention race issues. But somehow, they made it work.

And their happy ending became even happier when they made into the Guiness book of records. That comes with a cash prize, doesn’t it?

The morals of this story are many:

Take a chance. Put yourself out there. Let potential lovers see you. You don’t have to chase them, but you have a better shot if they don’t have to crawl under rocks to find you. After they’ve spotted you – then you can make them jump hoops and crawl rocks.
There’s someone for everyone who’s looking. Granted the male-female ratio is worrying, and in places like China, it’s the other way around. But the ratio is resolved by nuns, celibate priests, and polygamists. Plus, some hot singles just don’t want to be married. So for those who want one-spouse relationships, the men are out there. If a girl could find a mate at 6 foot 5, sembuse wewe?
It’s possible to find love on the internet. Keisha did, and so did I
Being tall is good for more than just the NBA.
You can find absolutely anything on the internet, and that’s not always a bad thing.

La-la-la Leopard

miamor — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 05:00:53 +0000

It’s been a while since my last post but don’t be mad. Once you find out what I’ve been up to you’ll wish you were there with me. Before I get to the business of making you green with envy, let me start by asking how’ve you been? I like hearing from you so definitely let a sista know what’s good with you. Ready to go green?

Ok, I did something I never thought I’d do. Actually, that’s not entirely true; I’ve always wanted to do it but conditions just never seemed right. I’ve traveled and lived alone but never done this. I took first solo vacation ever and it was a blast! Yay!!!!!

Picture it: South Coast, gorgeous beaches, lovely views, great food and lots of it, freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted, approved laziness, 4am movie nights with coconut for snacks, eating alone, skimpy little outfits, the ocean for a lullaby, reading trashy magazines by the beach wearing BIG vacation sunglasses, drinking the milk of fresh young coconut with flowers in it, spoiled rotten, 2 hour head-to-toe spa treatment, interesting people and peace of mind that was out of this world and that’s not even all of it. Leopard Beach Resort and Spa has perfected the art of hospitality (and they’re not even paying me to say that. I promise).

If you’ve never taken a solo vacation, please do. This was honestly one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. Ever! The memory of it, one month later still brings a smile to my face.

On account of my very relaxed post-vacation state, I’m going to skip ranting and head straight into my raves for the week.

Rave
1. Leopard Beach Resort and Spa. They took my frazzled, tired, depleted self and turned me into a smiling, relaxed belle of the ball. Thank you

2. Family. They might make me crazy sometimes but I love them and I’m blessed to have them

3. Friends. I am thankful that even though they are fewer, the quality is higher. I love you guys

4. That awesome vacation. This was a tremendous blessing and I really must rave about it.

5. The staff at Leopard Beach. Everyone I met was wonderful to me. I would however like to give a shout-out to Salome (Guest Relations Manager), Naftali (dining), Solomon (Spa), Esther Malanga, Radhika, Richard, Sheena (managers) and of course Chris Modigell (OGW). You guys sent me back to my life a new woman; thanks so much!

6. Bambika Afrika. I have to rave about Bambika Afrika and especially Rhoda, for putting together this lovely vacation for me. Check them out at www.bambikaafrika.com and you’ll see why I trusted her with this precious task.

Ok, time to get back to that thing I get paid to do; work Good day and blissed-out hugs to ya’ll

Long holiday nightmare

Back on the block … again

cazz — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 05:00:34 +0000

So … a few milliseconds past the 35 year mark and I find myself back in the social experiment more popularly known as dating. Senora I won’t get into the Mexican style soap opera drama of how just yet but suffice to say he lied, he cheated and when all was said and done I won the kids and dogs.

Now I must be honest about this … I could take the knocks when I was younger, slimmer, blissfully ignorant and full of that youthful exuberance you pine for as they, the young bloods, drift by while you stuff your face at one of the lovely food courts in our malls.

My blind date number 1 was somewhat (significantly) younger than me. I had refused to be sucked into the pleas for a date and knew I’d crossed the line when I used the ‘courting’ word instead of ‘hanging out’. Branded difficult and unrealistic by my single, dateless, 35+ girlfriends they planned an intervention. Amidst tears, shrill screams, stiff drinks and ‘you go girl’ cheers I called him and we made plans to meet up for a drink. So ….I finally find the bar with the hip name and after a mind numbing two hours here are my three tips if you opt to walk the dating plank again.

Lesson # 1: Location, location, location
For the 35+ you’ve done your time and really do not have to slum it in the name of a date. Honestly there are simply too many one week wonder bars and clubs in this town. Names change every other week and your bound to get confused so by all means necessary make sure you have at least one in the know under 25 year old extremely social confidante who can give you a wikipedia style heads up at the touch of a phone pad . Confidante is there to make sure you have all the nitty gritty on every club, bar, motel and player – you are not Indiana Jones on some adventure so rely on those who have been there, done that and are still doing it!

Lesson # 2: Persistence
I’m sorry but persistent guys are like that crazy itch at the back of your throat when you’re developing an ENT infection. You can’t quite scratch it, extremely irritating and takes forever to get rid of. Persistent men are not as flattering as romance books make out. It feels more like being stalked. I should have ignored my precious, misguided girlfriends and spent the evening sipping a lovely glass of wine and reading a book – my original plan. It’s great to get back on the horse but ladies do so in your own time and on your own terms.

Lesson # 3: Can pay, won’t pay
For those from that era … remember that Clint Eastwood squint daring the bad guy to draw his gun and shoot? So our date draws to an end and the waiter places the bill in the middle of the table. We look at each other, glance at the bill and … pause. The ‘stare’ starts… he buckles, nervous cough, picks up his drink and looks in every direction but mine! Ten minutes later I pick up the bill, pay and make to leave. Cheeky brat jumps up to escort me to the car. I am firm believer that a man should pay the bill. I am emancipated enough to state loud and clear “I can pay, I won’t pay” … you asked me out, finish what you started.

So ….more power to you. Live it up, laugh it off and by all means necessary date, date, date.

Bubbling Under

quill — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 06:00:19 +0000

Agnes and I had been friends for so long, to an extent that there were no secrets between us. It was a sisterly relationship to say the least. I trusted Agnes for so long until she decided that this was no longer what she had bargained for.

I had been having issues with my self esteem and other things in my life that I was struggling with. My father had just abandoned us and my mother and I had been kicked out of the “posh” life that we were used to. We had to start again from scratch which is not easy for anyone. We had been living from hand to mouth and it was a situation I had no control over. I decided to take the role of breadwinner of the family since my mother was pregnant by the time we were kicked out. It was a tough time for us and Agnes had been there all along.

On one night she told me that she wanted us to go clubbing, and of course I was up to it. At last to take my mind off things for a while. She had either left out a minor detail or she had told me the distorted truth about whom, where we would be clubbing, because I remember her telling me that her boyfriend was picking her up. It was already past ten o’clock and I was still wondering if we were really going out. Half an hour later, he came. To my surprise he was not the one driving but some guy who I had no clue whom he was. As we approached the car, Agnes said Hi to him until he asked “Huyu ndio ulikuwa unaniambia?”(Is she the one you were telling me about?). I had no clue what he was talking about.

I pulled Agnes aside and asked her, “Aggy, what is he talking about?” She looked at me as if I was talking in Greek. “Hey Sam(short for Samantha),he is just a friend of my boyfriend and he was looking for a girlfriend and plus I think you need a man to take care of your family and at least to give you money to take care of your mum, at least mkule poa(eat well),”she said without blinking an eye.

I couldn’t believe that she had just pimped for me. I went back to the car and told the two men that I wanted to get my jacket from the house. I left and never came back.

Agnes was not through yet. We went clubbing the following day but this time they found me there, her and a couple of her friends. As my habit, I had never left a beer or a soft drink before I finished it. This time I just left, visited the ladies and came back. Somehow my gut instinct was working. I asked Agnes, “Mbona beer yangu ikona povu nyingi hivyo? (Why does my beer have so much foam?).She looked at me so surprised and told me, “Ni meza imeshake” (We shook the table by mistake).

I did not buy that truth; it was so good to be true. I asked the bar tender for another drink, suddenly, Agnes retorted back,” Haiya, unawaste hiyo beer?”)You’re wasting that beer?). I looked at her and told her, “Ukitaka weh kunywa” (If you want it, drink it). In a millisecond it hit me that something rather crafty was going on. I drank the last of my beer and told Agnes that I had to go to the ladies. I took all my belongings and left that instant switched my phone off and went to bed.

The nerve of Agnes was to come home the following morning and ask me why I left. I looked at her so clueless I felt like I would puke on her. My silence was so irritating until she told me, “Sam aki pole, Jana hao maboy tulikwa nao walinishow nikuwekee kitu kwa drink ndio uende nao.Nikaweka halafu wakanipea thao,” (Am so sorry Sam, but the guys we were with asked me to spike your drink so that you would leave with them and then they gave me a thousand shillings).

All my guts were in my throat and I felt like throwing up. The only words I could muster were, “Get the hell out of my life Aggy.” I kicked her out of my life because I could not believe she could do that to me. What more had she done that I was not aware of? I just had no space to take her crap anymore. I thanked my guardian Angel for looking out for me, and my brains of course, but she just had reached the breaking point and couldn’t take it anymore, until a few months later she decided to re-appear in my life again.

Purple at last!

crystal — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 05:00:34 +0000

I’ve been trying to get my hair coloured for a while, and I finally gave up after four tries and three thousand shillings. I didn’t want to pour more money down the sink. Plus, I was afraid my hair would fall off. Hair colour can do that sometimes.

The saga began with a mix of two colours – ultraviolet black and aubergine. This was followed by some food colour, more aubergine, and some wailing with mirrors.

The first time I dyed it, the hairdresser said it was coloured, but my baby girl said otherwise. I couldn’t see purple either.

The second time, it started out purple, but darkened with the food colouring. And the third time, they let it stay on too long, so the effect was fade to black.

After each session, the hair-people swore that my hair had turned, but I was dissatisfied. They told me to be patient, and that the colour would ’shout’ after a few weeks.

Some days later, my baby finally admitted my hair was a little tinted. I didn’t believe her.

Even when some random dude using roller blades on the road to Kibera made a comment, I wasn’t having it. He said my hair was really pretty, and asked if I’d bathed it in Kiwi.

Well, not in those words exactly, but that was the idea.

Later, I discovered the hair looks purple in certain lights [and on certain mirrors. Specifically, flourescent light and teeny weeny bathroom glass. Also, bank-queue reflections]. There are moments when it screams violet, other times it looks a little off-black, which is a pretty good colour for me.

Yesterday, I was in Eastleigh shopping for a buibui. I walked into several stalls and had all sorts of people staring at my head – including one guy who was selling by translation. He didn’t speak a word of English or Swahili … which made bargaining rather difficult.

Maybe that was the point.

I figured the reason they were staring is that my head was exposed. Women in that neighbourhood are generally covered. I didn’t discover the problem until someone said, ‘Your hair is really purple!’ The comment was promptly followed by, ‘It really works for you.’

I’ve been thinking of growing my hair longer and turning it black, or maybe burgundy. I want to grow it so that I can style it and do things with it, now that I actually want to. I’ll mostly want to coil it up in those spirally curls and then pile it up in dread-ful version of that tousled up crumpled-sheet hairdo.

But I got so many comments on my tiny purple hair that I’m reconsidering. Plus, you can’t have long hair that’s purple … that would just be weird. And I’m not even sure I can still get aubergine at Tuskys. Oh well.

In other news, I’ve been slacking off at the gym. I decided to sleep in for one morning and somehow it stretched to a week! I didn’t think it made much difference, especially since I was sweating much more during workouts, so I figured I was doing something right. But during the post-skiving stretch session, I was screaming like a pregnant cow. Apparently a few days skipped equal a whole lot of pain. *sulk*

I was watching Dr Phil. [Yes, I occasionally watch Dr Phil. I didn't say I was proud of it.] He was talking about weight loss and weight gain, and he said to lose weight, you have to figure out why you eat. Some people use food as a crutch, so no matter how many diets or fads they use, they stay plus-sized.

I eat to make me happy. I’m naturally depressive, so I use food as a pick-me-up. It’s the one thing that consistently makes me smile. So after a long day, or a fight, or a sad movie, or some good news, or even a bout of PMS, I grab a plate. I’ll usually pick cookies or chocolate or ugali, blue-banded rice, sweet potatoes, and thick savoury stew. Yum. And because I’m eating to be happy, the portions increase. It isn’t enough to just taste.

To help my ‘diet’ along, I need to be conscious of when I eat. I should feed when I’m hungry – and only when I’m hungry. Otherwise I’m piling on more calories than I work off, and all the gymming on the planet will do nothing for my kilo-count … or my aspiring hair.

I should drink lots of water, and when I get sad, instead of hunting for Dairy Milk or Maryland cookies, I should write a poem, dance to rock song, or find me some salsa.

Yeah. That’s gonna happen.

Sexy Lingerie

irene — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 05:00:25 +0000

How many men do you know who can resist the temptation of a woman in sexy lingerie? Probably not many; but do you blame them? It seems there is something irresistible about a woman in lace, ribbons, leather, and sheer material that drives a man crazy. Sexy lingerie lets you hold the secret to obtaining complete submission of your man, opening the door to your sexual intimacy.

Wearing lingerie can make any woman look oh-so-irresistible, and sexy in ways she could never imagine. The varieties of lingerie that are available to women now are much different than what we were used to years ago. From costumes, to holiday themes, to lingerie that fulfills your wildest fantasy; it’s all finally at your fingertips, and as sexy as ever.

Girls want to be complimented. So what better way to attract compliments and attention than to buy new sexy lingerie, wait for your man to come home from work, and enjoy the sight of his jaw dropping to the floor. He’ll shower you in compliments about how amazing you look, and what a confidence boost that will bring! Men love confident women, and women love to look and feel sexy. Sexy lingerie allows for both of you to get what you want, and have a great time doing it!

Improving your love life is a concern that is presented in many relationships. The secret is to keep things fun and new, and new lingerie is a way to do just that! Sex isn’t just about the act; it’s about teasing your man, and making him unable to resist you. Tease him all day by sending cute, flirtatious text messages, and surprise him at home with some red hot sexy lingerie that he hasn’t seen before. It’ll be sure to send sparks flying in your bedroom tonight!

Bedtime Flirt will help you find the right lingerie to make you feel like a bombshell in any outfit, for any occasion. For a “special” night planned with your man, go for a lacy thong and push-up bra with tactically placed flowers. Planning a night for the two of you at home? Go for sexy lingerie from the “baby doll” or “princess” collections, allowing you to feel like a million pounds while still maintaining the comfort factor. For a night out on the town, go for lingerie that pushes your limits, such as a corset, a bustier, or a push-up bra, all guaranteed to bring out the sexy, adventurous side of you.

Sexy lingerie can also make for the perfect gift. Not only from a husband or significant other, but for your friend who’s getting married, or that co-worker you’d like to get to open up a little. There’s nothing that makes a woman feel more confident and sexy than her first garter belt and sexy, lacy bra. If you’re anything like me, you can’t even own sexy lingerie without dying to watch someone else’s jaw drop when they see you in the most flattering, sexy garment available. There’s no better gift than the gift of lingerie to assure that special lady in your life that she is desirable, sexy and full of life.

My Smelly Princess [Part 2]

lawrence — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 05:00:56 +0000

“You know what your problem is Lawrence!? You are too proud!!”

“Really!? Because the last time I checked you were a stubborn disrespectful bitch!!”

“What!!!? You have two seconds to get out of here or else I swear to Bazuzu!! One…Two..”

This was probably the tenth fight that Daisy and I were having in a span of just two months.

We were so close to clearing one year since we started going out (a first time feat for me). For some obscure reason, we were going through a very passionate phase of our relationship. The fights would start with something as petite as dirty dishes in the sink, escalate to how I treated her like a house maid, then to how I thought she needed to respect my house, and finally to my pride and her bitchiness. Then came the countdown, One…Two… and for fear of whoever Bazuzu was, I always walked out. I would spend some time with Masai the watchman, and two hours later take the stairs back to MY HOUSE, engage in a brief apology session, and some amazing make up action would ensue. I loved the make up, but I was worried that one day she would be the one walking out and I would have lost my Daisy forever. Tim (my ex roommate and close ill advisor) kept on about how we were about to cross over to the next Phase of our romance, and that we just needed to get past this.

“It’s like baptism by fire. The first real test on how true you are to each other” He said.

Tim has been in a relationship with the same girl since I first met him which is longer than I care to remember. As you can imagine, I was inclined to acquiesce to his teachings.

On this particular night, Masai was not in his den (very unusual). In the loneliness of the dark feeble wooden structure, I sat staring out into oblivion, surprisingly not thinking about the fight I had just had.

As if in a state of hypnosis, I took out my phone and started scrolling through the phone book for no particular reason. Trying to put a face and a story to each name was turning out into a very enjoyable distraction. Of course there was the deleting of names whose faces I couldn’t place.

Before long I was deeply engrossed in this little game, until I came across a very odd name.

“Who is Crystal?” I wondered. I only knew of one place I could have picked such a name from, but it had been really long since I was there, and I had always been damn sure not to leave any traces of my presence there. I was just about to delete the entry when it hit me, slowly at first, then really drastically as the events of that eerie Monday around five months earlier came streaming back from the recesses of my memory.

“Crystal, Crystal….Wow!” I whispered rather loudly. A smile shot across my tired face.

“If you ever have the chance, call me. Maybe we can laugh about this then” She had said, a bewitching smile sweeping across her painfully pretty face.

This story had never gotten to Daisy thanks to a pact between me and Njeri, my house girl at the time. Njeri had since been replaced by a clueless new house girl (apparently Masai had done wonders to Njeri and she was now his fifth wife back in Samburu land, or so he claimed during one of our nightly exchanges).

Well, Crystal said call her when I had the chance, and here was her phone number, staring right back at me, reminding me of her mysterious demeanor and how radiant she looked after taking a shower right upstairs in my bathroom. Heck, she even wore my girlfriend’s clothes!

Ignoring the foreboding by every nerve in my body, I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear. It was ringing.

“Hello?” That wasn’t her voice. That was a man on the other end. My hands were now trembling.

“H-h-hello, could I please speak to Crystal?”

“Who are you!? Why you call Crystal at crazy hours!!!? Are you other boyfriend!!? Eeeh!!?” That’s when it hit me, it was past midnight. The gentleman on the other side of the phone was obviously not a Kenyan brother and his attempt at English left a lot to be desired. With vintage Italian rage, he launched into a series of warnings, threats and really strong abusive rants. Whoever that was, he really didn’t appreciate men calling Crystal at crazy hours, probably even at normal hours.

It didn’t seem so rude to hang up on Edoardo or whatever his name was, so I hang up. It was time to go back upstairs.

Daisy was in bed, her apology speech already prepared, but I was so frazzled I had totally forgotten mine. I tried to salvage the situation by borrowing lines from previous fights to no avail. She didn’t take that very kindly, and for the first time ever, she slept as far away from me as possible, fully clothed.

The next day, right in the middle of a sales pitch to some potential clients, my phone rang. I always forgot to put my phone in silent mode when times demanded it, often to my boss’s vexation. I made a quick apology as I hurriedly took the phone out my pocket and turned it off. The caller id was the last one I expected to see at that time, and frankly it totally threw me off balance. The rest of that presentation was a total disaster. It’s a wonder we still got the account.

Calling Crystal had been a baaaad idea! In fact, still having her phone number in my phone was a bad idea. Flashes of my encounter with her five months ago and Edoardo’s rants on the phone the previous day kept coming back to me, causing me huge discomfort. I couldn’t wait for that day to end.

At the heart of the afternoon, as I tried to balance between the effects of the heavy lunch we had had with the clients and finishing my report, my phone rang again. It was Crystal.

“At least put it on silent if you won’t pick it Lawrence!” I don’t even remember who that was.

“Hello?” My voice was hoarse.

“Hello. Whoz this?”

It dawned on me that Crystal hadn’t taken down my phone number, and neither had I told her my name. All I had to do was come up with some wrong number story and put this behind me! This was my chance.

“Is this Crystal?” I knew it was Crystal. And what was wrong with my voice?

“Yes it is. I’m so sorry about yesterday…”

“No no, it’s ok, I should have checked the time before calling” My voice was coming back.

“Imagine I still can’t place your voice. Pleeeease remind me who you are!” Damn she sounded good! I wanted to see her again.

“Uhm, we met some months back, you used my bathroom to clean up after a certain episode?” This was followed by a soft mocking laughter on the other side of the line.

“You’ll have to be more specific” She said.

‘Really!!?’ I wondered.

“It was in a Mathree, you were, uhm, not smelling so good…”

“Oooooh my God!! I remember now!! I always wondered when you were going to call me! I didn’t even get the name of my Knight in shining armor!” A hearty laughter followed. She was killing me. I tried to laugh as well but a weird croak came out my throat so I gave up.

“I didn’t really tell you my name…”

“No you didn’t. Wow, you were so sweet!! You even gave me your girlfriend’s clothes! I have never forgotten you! You know what me and my friends call you?” Oh, she also had a title for me? This was getting very interesting.

“Nope, what?”

“We call you Mr X! The X is because we couldn’t find a sweet enough name for you. Can you imagine? God, I’m so happy you called me finally! We have to meet.”

Now I was sweating. Meet!? Are you frickin kidding me?

“I’m flattered. The name is Lawrence by the way. You can finally replace the X!” I announced like an absolute proud ass!

“Lawrence! I knew you had a magical name! So? When do I get to see you again?” If only she knew what damage she was causing to my systems.

“Uhm, I’m travelling out today, maybe next week after I come back?” I wasn’t travelling anywhere.

“Sure!! Please please call me. I can’t wait! My friends will be so happy to see you as well!” Boy wasn’t she excited.

“Ok! Enjoy the rest of your day then Crystal”

“You too Lawrence! And thanks for calling! Beeyyyyeee!!” Click, she was gone.

Smelly affairs in my house, angry Italians on my phone, happy reunions coming up, my relationship on the rocks, yeah, it was time to tell Daisy about this.

Outcry of IDPs

Njambi — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 05:00:45 +0000

If I could find justice, then I would scream at the top of my voice. Speak I can, converse I do, give speeches, I have…yet still I am unable to scream for help. I long for a helping hand, I crave justice, my heart pleads for mercy… but scream? I cannot. If I could, I would, but since I can’t, then I won’t. Pen in hand, paper underneath, let these words scream for me.

The Internally Displaced
I knew freedom up until I was made slave in my own country; I knew peace up until chaos rent my air; I knew love up until hatred pulled down my wall and kicked its way into my life; I knew joy and contentment up until bitterness and despair proved a more worthy comrade; I knew my place and my rights in my motherland up until blood was spilt over boundaries… then, everything that once was became a dream, an illusion, almost as if, for the first time, my eyes were open to reality.

Friend turned foe and my neighbor was no longer my brother. Hate speech, curse words, insults and threats were served in enormous portions; children were fed on lies and forbidden to play with traitors. Shops were no longer open to those from certain tribes, even lovers from different communities could no longer walk together for fear of their lives…so long bliss, we will savor in your memories. And what started out as our democratic right became our bureaucratic plight. As lambs to the slaughter, we dragged our feet to polling stations, bleating out our support for the wise, ‘unbwogable’ ones, pledging to rally behind them no matter what, but we meant little of what we said…

Then came the war cries, the bangs at our doors, the smashing of windows and rustling of our herds; a scream here, another there… terrible mayhem and not a second left to cry! Not a minute to reconcile the family and give a parting shot! One after another, we fled for our lives, young and old, rich and poor, once united by colloquial vibe, now separated by elements of tribe, factors beyond any man. Or say, who chose to be born in their clan and family? One could see bodies left, right and centre, and of those alive, the faces told the story: some full of hate and anger, others full of fear and agony. No one loves to die, at least not in this way. They sought us in the fields, schools and homes… in churches even. Their arrows as poisonous as can be, their machetes sharpened on stone by the midnight fire. And even where no weapons sufficed, fires were started and men, women and children were made flaming torches, screaming helplessly to their death as the enemy stood by, one would think this to be butchery with roast meat on display.

And still, some of us survived. With broken limbs, scarred bodies, burnt homes, no property, lost loved ones…name it, and we made it. We sought solitude in numbers and tried to heal amongst ourselves, to love again, to rebuild that which was torn down. And when it got hard, we allowed ourselves to cry. They came to visit, all of them that had homes, even the ones we elected to power, and at least for a while we felt their love and presence. But soon, the trucks stopped coming, the dust settled and we were left alone. Once upon a lucky star, they highlighted our plight again, to remind the world that we still needed help, long term solutions and compensations…and when they said there was no money and that we needed to wait, we sat back and waited. Patiently.

Just a fortnight ago, they decided the little money that had surfaced would be sufficient for their luxurious tendencies and allowances. The rest of it (two billion plus) was set aside for a referendum ‘contest’ as it were. Here we are, still waiting for someone to remember and to go the extra mile, to speak for us in a language power understands, to push them to act in our favor…because every day, by doing nothing, they dig up our lousy graves a bit more. We want to live, because it is our fundamental right to do so. We are gasping for fresh breathe, longing to sleep and dream again…

To everyone responsible, please, bear the burden of the very process that got you where you are, that earned you that title and gave you the car, house and other extremities only you can enjoy…the same process that denies me the right to simply be…Kenyan- with no tags (IDP) or otherwise.

Outcry of a Kenyan

Wear boots and look good in them!

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 05:00:04 +0000

Over the last century only one type of shoe has remained timeless in a woman’s wardrobe, the boot. The boot has been around since the 16th and 17th century and was mainly worn in the North America due to rough terrain. However it was popularized by the American cowboys in the 18th century and up to today it is widely associated with the Wild Wild West.

Over the years the boot has evolved, and once worn out of necessity has become a fashion item in our wardrobes. Boots come in various materials, shapes and sizes but over the years there have been three main designs of the boot: knee length, ankle length and thigh length.

At least one in every five women owns a pair or pairs of boots, but we tend to wear them all wrong or not wear them at all because we are confused on what to pair them up with. Here are a few tips on which boot to wear with what.

Ankle length boots
These kinds of boots are best worn with skinny jeans especially if they round toe or sharp pointed. The box shaped ones can be paired up with a pair of formal office pants. Another way to wear this kind of boots is to wear them with short skirt/ dress (just above the knee) paired with black or opaque tights.

Ankle length boots are however not suitable for short people as the make calves appear thicker and legs shorter.

Knee length boots
This is probably the best boot design and with very few limitations. They can be worn with skinny jeans, best over skinny jeans. They can also be worn with skirts and dresses both long and short. They also look very chic and sexy when worn with shorts paired with stockings for that night out.

However you should avoid wearing the knee length boots with baggy clothing as it creates a ballooning effect and I’m sure no woman wants that.

Thigh high boots
This is a design full of controversy and you are sure to get a few heads turning when wearing them. Thigh high boots have long been associated so much with dominatrix and eroticism, but that should not stop you from wearing them.

The best way to wear them is to pair them with shorts or over skinny jeans. However, to look best in them, buy those that go just above the knee not the kind that go all the way to the waist, as they may send out the wrong message.

Taking all those tips into consideration, wear your boots the right way and stop doing so much injustice to this timeless shoe.

Author: Njoki Kiunga
Bio: I am a 21 old college graduate who loves fashion. Iam always on the look out for fashion crimes and I love to correct them where I can.

Vote for The Lily Review in the Kenya Blog Contest

KEEN — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 05:10:20 +0000

The Lily Review is a nominee in the Kenya Blog Contest being run by @eGichomo in the Beauty Award: Best layout, design, cool features, attractiveness and finest integration of themes and magnificence.

To learn more about the contest and vote for us click here. Also you can follow the contest’s twitter hash tag #KeBlogContest.

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Give your brain a work out!

admin — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 07:57:50 +0000

Do you enjoy word games? There are many to pick from : crossword puzzles, letter jumbles, word searches, etc. Word games are a fun way to pass the time, and many of us play word games regularly as a way to keep the brain sharp.

Does doing the daily crossword puzzle really improve your memory? The answer is: not was much as you might think.

Word games tend to be stimulating for the brain when you first start doing them. Crossword puzzles, for example, help to improve your vocabulary and challenge your brain to think about language in terms of letter count, abstractions and comparisons.

The novelty you experience when first doing crossword puzzles is a good recipe for brain exercising. But something happens after doing crossword puzzles for a little while as you start to become good at them! You start remembering all of the three letter words; you develop strategies and recognize repeating patterns. Your brain naturally adapts to the task and because of this, the task becomes easier.

Unless you diligently challenge yourself with harder and harder crossword puzzles, you are unlikely to experience the same kind of vigorous brain work out you received when first starting.

Posit Science has created a free word game called Word Wanderer that is specifically designed to overcome this issue for brain fitness. Word Wanderer’s key difference versus other word games is that it uses intelligent adaptive measures to ensure that you train at your own personal threshold, the uppermost edge of your skill level.

Word Wanderer is designed to adapt quickly to your skill level, so that you do not waste too much time working at skills that are either impossibly challenging or trivially easy. The game increases the difficulty so that you are typically training at threshold which means that you are constantly working your brain. As soon as you master a task, the program makes the task more difficult to encourage your brain to build stronger and more refined neural pathways. [To play Word Wanderer, click here]

You might compare the process to lifting weights. Imagine that you begin to lift five-pound weights. At first, it seems difficult, or even impossible. But after a week or two, your arms grow stronger and lifting the weights becomes easier.

Soon, it is no trouble at all. At that point, you have to switch to heavier weights to build even stronger muscles. Similarly, in Word Wanderer you start with four letter tiles. As your brain gets better at the task, you are challenged with additional letter tiles; at the highest level you must use seven letters before time runs out.

The key to engaging the brain machinery is learning. The brain must constantly be challenged with new tasks in order to forge or strengthen these neural pathways.

Word Wanderer is not only fun, but designed to engage the brain in a way that encourages positive change by keeping you at your own personal threshold during every turn. This adaptive component is critical in promoting brain fitness and not routinely found in online word games.

To play Word Wanderer, click here.

This article was written by our friends at Posit Science – a leading brain fitness company providing effective, non-invasive tools that engage the brain’s natural plasticity to improve brain health.

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My Brother’s Wedding

cazz — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 05:00:03 +0000

It was my brothers wedding Saturday. I looked fab (oh yes I did) and had the killer heels to match. We went to pick up the bride and in my lofty position of master time keeper I tottered over to the bride’s driver to inform him the bridal party would be exiting the house in five. This was her day and he absolutely needed to be ready.

And as I tottered over ….I fell down. I’d like to say there was some grace to it but sadly there was none. I crashed to my mother’s feet. And guess what… she didn’t help me up. Nope. She was too busy on the phone giving directions. Priorities right! I lay-cum-sat there, ankle horribly twisted, dress unbecomingly hiked up (thankfully I was wearing long support underwear that can, from a distance, look like thick biker pants) as this woman, who so often claimed to be my mother because she had labored over 48 hours to deliver me, kept jabbering away on the phone!

I was helped up by a lovely couple I did not know and quickly propped up and out of the way as the bridal party glided to the waiting cars. From my vantage point I could just about see their lovely shoes and with tears in my eyes I came to the shocking realization that
a) I’d sadly have to change my shoes to a semi killer heel variety, and
b) Mums don’t feel our pain. They can in fact be strangely distant!!

With expertly bandaged foot (there’s so much one can learn from reality TV) and loaded on painkillers I – she woman – drove myself to the wedding. Half an hour later I am seated at the wedding ceremony on time… and showed the young bloods a thing or two at the evening party. My sisters and I got home in the wee hours of Sunday morning danced out and euphoric.

It’s Monday morning and I’m supposed to be getting ready for work. Everything has worn off and my ankle has taken on a strange bluish hue I never knew my skin capable of. Perhaps it is finally time to see a doctor?

Was bearing the pain worth it? Absolutely and I have a lovely unbudgeted new pair of semi killer shoes to prove it.

Of Supermarkets & Sweets

Suki — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 05:00:21 +0000

‘Madam ngojea switi’, the rude cashier at the supermarket said to me a few days back. I was so mad I told him to put the coins in the Red Cross till at the counter. Sadly this trend has become very rampant in supermarkets not only in Nairobi but across Kenya despite CBK issuing a statement saying that there are enough coins in circulation.

Some supermarkets are so notorious to the extent that they have notices on their walls facing you at the counter saying they are experiencing a coin shortage yadayada like that’s our problem. How come Mama Mike the estate shopkeeper always gives you your full change, bobs and all without much hustle?

There are so many theories that are going round about supermarket and coins. One I heard was the cashiers have a ‘merry-go-round’ with those coins they collect a day by forcing us to take those cheap ‘sweets’ that live your mouth sore and full of cuts. I am not good with figures but let’s just say a cashier serves a hundred people in a day from whom they take on average KES 3 per person, in a day that cashier makes KES 300 multiply by say 5 cashiers in a day that’s KES 1500. What do they make in a month? Do the math.

I found this theory very far-fetched but just in case its true, then we are being ripped off willingly (or unwillingly for some cases)

My mama is a very no-nonsense woman (it runs in the family) so one day she is paying for her bill after shopping and the cashier brought up that ‘sweets’ issue. She simply told the cashier that she didn’t have kids to just give her her 3 bob. Poor man kept insisting, some people can’t read facial expressions/body language or they are just plain dumb (or pretend to be) for lack of a better word. She didn’t make a scene but she insisted on seeing the manager. 3 bob materialised from nowhere.

That’s an example of how we should teach supermarkets a lesson. I have heard crazier stories where a chick literary climbed on the counter to demand for her 4 bob in a supermarket located in a posh estate, the drama must have been awesome but she assured the shocked onlookers (mostly jungus) who were gawking at her that she wasn’t as rich as them and that she really needed those KES 4, girl got her shilingis.

We can complain all we want even shout murder from the rooftops but some of us are to blame. How many people have mkebes in their houses/offices full of bobs? ALOT, have you ever counted those coins? You would be amazed to find that they are ALOT. Why people accumulate them beats me.

Put the coins out there and spare some of us from the cheap ‘sweets’ pandemic.

Another bone of contention to chew is with the supermarkets. Why in hell do they put those weird price tags like KES 999, 47, 12 etc if they don’t have the bobs for the change required? Kenyans are looking to save that shilling while shopping so why steal from them indirectly? Why not round off the figures to like KES 995, 45 or something?

So please supermarkets wacheni kujenga Uchumi yenyu by stealing from us! We are looking for opulence just like you and those bobs put together make sh.5, 10, 15, 20 and eventually our biggest note, ksh.1000!

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Cleavage Spillage

admin — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 05:00:04 +0000

‘If you got it flaunt it’ that’s one of the new age sayings. Well not everything should be flaunted at least not in my books of fashion. Am talking about cleavage, call me old fashioned, backward or whatever you wish but I like to consider myself conservative. I have nothing against showing off a bit off bust cleavage its actually flattering especially during a girl’s night out, cocktail parties or other funky events. Bust cleavage will be totally unflattering if your twins are spilling off your outfit and that isn’t a pretty sight.

Although we like talking about freedom of expression and freedom of dressing sometimes we go beyond boundaries and end up looking clueless when it comes to dressing sexy. Just because you saw it on a window of a boutique and loved it, it doesn’t mean that it fits.

Now that I am talking about cleavage, I also have a big problem with ‘butt’ cleavage; I fail to understand why anyone in their right mind would walk around showing off their lower cleavage. It’s funny how we are convinced that we look good in those low rise jeans, yet walking in them is a problem. You cannot even pick up anything or sit down without showing off your cleavage.

It does not matter if you look like Beyonce’s twin or Jennifer Lopez’s long lost cousin, strutting your stuff along the busy streets of Nairobi, but so long as your butt ‘crack’ I mean cleavage is showing, you don’t look so good.

Just because it looks goods on the model in the fashion magazine, and you saw it in the shop’s window display, doesn’t mean it fits, so please don’t try to squeeze yourself in jeans or tops/dresses that are a size smaller. ‘No one will notice’ we like to convince each other or ourselves, but some things like cleavage spillage cannot go unnoticed , especially if they are parts which define the WOMAN.

Next time you go shopping make sure you buy clothes which fit, ask for an opinion from your friends and look at yourself at the mirror. As a friend give honest opinions, be your sisters keeper, and with the right fitting clothes you will definitely get glances for all the right reasons.

By Njoki Kiunga. Njoki is a 21 year old lady just graduated from college. She loves fashion and is always on the look out for people committing crimes of fashion and loves to correct them where she can.

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Outcry of a Kenyan

Njambi — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 06:19:57 +0000

The Kenyan
I am every man walking on the streets, each named after a great man; I am every woman rising up early and staying up late, fending for the needs of her children; I am every young man working my way to prosperity, a comfortable life; I am every young woman laying out my dreams, setting out after each one in turn; I am every boy, every girl in class, learning vocabulary, solving arithmetic, interpreting maps- getting to know my world. I am tall, short, dark and light, young and old: I am Kenyan.

I have read about the pains of slavery and the cost of freedom; I have heard tales of bravery, selflessness and patriotism to the point of death, I have seen pictures of dreaded men and women who stood up for everything I enjoy freely in the present; I have spent holidays enjoying myself in their honor and sometimes, I think about what it takes to be one such person of valor. Only, it isn’t so hard to imagine their turmoil anymore…

I live in a country whose peace hangs on the edge, where every dawning moment is a balancing act, a dangerous game where nothing is certain, only hope and strong will prevent me from toppling over. I know cannibals that love to feed on the fat of little lambs, lions that kill for prestige, vultures that are quick to clean up carcasses. All in the name of power.

I have watched trusted leaders lead a nation to war, only they stayed in their safe havens and watched through glass windows as blood fed the ground, Kenyan blood. I have known commission-oriented systems, sittings that serve to mask truth and delay justice, gatherings that eat up on tax-payers’ money as they ponder on ‘the next step’- steps that almost always never see the process of implementation. I have seen the law shake hands with crime; I have watched power embrace despondency. Why? Yes we can!

I am the Kenyan that has lived in shelters for three straight years, wondering whether elections have to happen again before anyone can have mercy and help me rebuild my life; I am every Kenyan that has had their land grabbed, their amenities stolen, their right to life and good tidings abused. I am every Kenyan that has been framed for something they did not do, that was tortured to confess truths I knew not of. I am every Kenyan that once bought twenty-two slices of bread for eighteen shillings, the same one that buys fourteen slices for thirty five shillings. I am every Kenyan that has seen the prices go up, the taxes sky-rocket and salaries take a nose dive. I am every Kenyan that knows it takes voluntary work to gain experience and that the only reward for doing things for free is to be given loads more to do and muttered appreciation- if any.

I am every Kenyan that is growing so tired of mysterious disappearances of people and money, every Kenyan that is growing weary of cobwebs in corridors of justice and hot coals in the path of growth and development. I am every Kenyan that dreams of the day things will change, whose heart grows frail at the weight of reality. I am every Kenyan working day in and out, around the clock with nothing to look forward to because it is a hard world, you have forced me to believe as you give me a coin and steal from me a note, the note that I need. I am every Kenyan that is tired, writing an open mail to you, who is responsible. Please grow up and out of your malice!

Outcry of IDPs

Operation lose ten kilos: Month Two

crystal — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 05:00:36 +0000

So … I haven’t been to the gym in two weeks.

I have a perfectly legitimate excuse. The first week, I had workshops, so I had to leave the house earlier. The second week, my cheques hadn’t cleared and the gym subscription had run out.

I bumped into the gym instructor three days into the ‘wallet-fast’ and he told me I could come in anyway. I didn’t take him up on it. It was partly guilty conscience, but mostly oversleeping.

Somewhere amid my hiatus, I had to go to a clinic for a routine tune-up. As usual, they checked my temperature and BP, then asked me to be weighed.

I’d gained 1.5 kilos!

Either those two weeks really did something bad, or the hospital scales were wrong. Because on my home scale, I still weigh exactly the same as I did six months ago. Weird.

Maybe it’s my home scales that are broken.

Anyway, I hit the gym today. It wasn’t as hard as I expected. I actually worked up a sweat on the bike, which I never do. I’m not sure if that’s a sign or progress.

And I felt my body warm up on the treadmaster, literally, which is another new thing.

When doing my arm work, the sweat was dripping down, which was freaky. I mean, who sweats while lifting weights? They’re only like 1.5 kilos a piece. And they’re pink!

I did manage to do 100 reps on the skipping rope, so that made me smile. On day 1, I could only do 30 reps per set, which slowly moved up to 50 per set. So when today In easily made 100, I was pretty pleased with myself.

Now I just have to move up to several sets instead of just one. I barely make it to 500 now.

I think the best way to stay motivated in workouts is to set small targets. Like, instead of looking for drastic weight loss, focus on little things.

I don’t feel any lighter, but my clothes fit better, and my blouse buttons don’t pop as much. I can skip longer without breaking, crunch mostly without whining, and the stretches and don’t hurt as much.

Even the scissor leg workouts are easier. Except my instructor has noticed it, so he made them more complex by adding depth and variation. Bloody masochist.

My next mini target is for the tummy-thigh stretches to work. I’m usually worked on while lying on my back – no gutter intended. They pull and twist the legs for a while, then they have you sit up and stretch your thigh muscles, before they eventually lay you on your tummy and pull moves uncomfortably similar an inverted submission suplex.

I’m used to all the other sessions, and my gym people are starting to wonder if they’re doing anything at all, because I don’t scream as much as I used to. But when I lie on my tummy and pull my front thigh, I cry like a little girl.

When I can handle a lying quad stretch without whining, then I’ll know I’m well on my way to true fitness. Until then, I’ll try to stay away from the scales until my dress size drops.

Thou shalt not change thy own light bulbs

crystal — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 05:38:12 +0000

A few days ago, I was at a workshop, and we had to set up a DVD player. I was in charge of logistics, so I got the machine then asked for some boy in the know to come hook it up.

My statement offended some ladies in the audience, who felt I was stereotyping. I hadn’t given it much thought, so I revised the statement and asked anyone who could get it working to come do so.

Three girls huddled around the machine, trying to match the red wire to the white wire. Two of us, me included, spent a few seconds asking why it didn’t have a yellow wire.

In the end, one of the guys came and set it up. Oh ouch.

Even the staunchest feminist admits to having a guy to fix her light bulbs. I’ve always been really proud of changing my own, until today.

See, I have had many, many, many adventures with light bulbs, but I always blamed the glass. When I used three bulbs for every change in Dar, I assumed it was because the bulbs cost two bob Kenyan. And the house had faulty wiring. Why else would the first two bulbs I replace blow within seconds – every single time?!

When I broke the bulb fixture thingie – I think it’s called a holder – I played innocent with the landlord while he replaced it, and spent the time trying to get the black plastic out of my eye.

When I snapped the fixture on the balcony at my brother’s house, I discreetly tried masking tape … should have used superglue. Super glue can fix anything!

We left that house years ago, but the balcony still has no light.

When I plugged another bulb loosely and it came crashing down three seconds after I left the room … well … how can that possibly be my fault? I wasn’t even in the room!

So a few weeks ago, my kitchen bulb blew. It was one of those energy-saving types that cost 250, so I got a new one and replaced it. A few days later, I noticed it making this squeaking sound, like a rat was chewing on its wires. The light would brighten and dim too, and fridge was acting funny.

I figured the power had fluctuated and started thinking of getting a fridge guard. But after a while, I asked my brother to come look at it. He said the bulb was probably loose, and I should try unscrewing it and then screwing it back again.

Didn’t work.

Then I had both my brothers look at it – separately – and they told me the metal holder thingie had warped, and that I needed a new one. Fair enough. So I walked around town all day arguing with vendors because what they tried to sell me was the wrong colour, the wrong size, the wrong shape … or the wrong price.

I eventually got the right thing for fifty bob, and my brother tried to fix it for me. Only the broken fixture was too tight and neither pliers nor towels and man-force could pluck it out. We thought about breaking it … but nah.

It was pretty late, so we decided to call it a night and fix the bulb tomorrow. Only … the fridge wouldn’t go on. Good Lord.

My brother asked me to switch the fuse box off and on again. I did. Twice. It didn’t work.

Let me first explain that all the wiring in my house is crossed. When you press the cooker switch, the fridge lights up, and vice versa. And a second explanation is that we were trying to sort our own bulb wiring instead of calling the caretaker. So my mind was already in panic mode about how I was going to explain this to the landlord.

But then little brother walks up to the fuse box, switches it off, switches it on, and voila! It works! The fridge switch still lights up the cooker, but at least they both work.

And I thought that off-and-on thing only fixes computers.

I don’t know what that child has in his blood, but all my machines work when he’s around … and promptly die when he leaves.

Either way, from now on, I think I leave all lighting matters to the men.

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