Woman, why won’t you contain your bag, thighs and hair?

Sometime last year, a rumour was spreading, much like Ebola is now, about people stealing hair from people with dreadlocks in matatus, in dark alleys and sometimes right on the street when crossing the road. 

That freaked me out. 

Whenever I took a matatu – because I’d spent all my fuel money on other shit I didn’t need – I’d make sure to cover my head with a scarf. When I went out of the office building in town, I did the same. But the rumours didn’t spread much further or longer and I soon forgot about it.

But now that I think about it, perhaps I should start a rumour that a secret society of necrophiliacs are targeting women with large, weaves and wigs, specifically so that they can cut them off at the scalp, take their handbags of pleather, scrape a little dead skin off their thighs and do whatever it is that necrophiliacs do with such things as they collect. But fake and dead don’t mean the same thing, you say! Well necrophiliacs don’t give a damn! Fake is as good as dead to them, I say.

Why would I do this, you wonder? I’m just so sick and tired of inhaling hair product, carrying half a bag that’s not mine and being squashed by slender people who could fit perfectly in their chairs, but decide to snuggle as close to you as they possibly can. It’s not fair, and I don’t swing that way. Don’t swing at all, might I add J.

I’m not going to seek the necro’s on my fellow women because they look bad, no! In fact, they look pretty good. I wish I had the money to buy and the courage to wear weaves. As we speak, I do not. But I don’t want your plastic tresses in my eye every time you turn your head or every time a cross current passes coughs through an open window. I don’t like it.

Hmm... maybe I’ll just create a legend, a serial hair cutter... and then bring it/him/her to life myself. And when I do get caught, as all serial [people?] do, I’m sure I won’t be stoned to death, or made to wear a rubber doughnut and set alight. There’s no way.

99 problems and ... they’re all matatu related

@njerish

njerimuchai@outlook.com

You know how, when you enter a matatu, you pick the seat of least resistance in the hope that no one will sit on you, step on you, unwittingly – or otherwise – fondle you or pick your pocket? No? Well, most of us do. It doesn't always work. In fact, it rarely does.

Public transport is the cheapest, safest, most comfortable form of transportation in Kenya. Or at least it should be. As it stands, Matatu drivers are ninjas, every single one of them. Notice how they carry on conversations with passengers, their makanga and whoever is on the other end of that mobile phone in their hand, overtake at 120kph in dense traffic, evade arrest and wear their uniforms all at the same time.

One hand is on the steering wheel at all times and the rear-view mirror is all but unnecessary; they prefer to turn their heads and look!

Put on a track with Lewis Hamilton, they might not follow the rules, but they’d beat him every time because, short cuts and flawless multi-tasking, are what it’s all about. Of course, they crush – a lot less than you’d expect – kill and maim thousands every year, themselves included.

The treachery, however, begins before you even enter the matatu.  In many parts of the country, the drivers, intent on catching the fish their competitors are also making eyes at, will drive right onto the curb, forcing pedestrians and clients alike to dive into whatever nearby bush is available. Or worse, straight into oncoming traffic! 

But they don’t stop there! The makanga proceeds to shove you into his vessel having whispered a ridiculously low fare into your ear. And that would be really good too, if he wasn’t taking you 100 kilometres away from your destination. 

They always assume they know where you’re going. On the off chance that you are going where they’re taking you, the driver then proceeds to drive off at full speed, when you only have one foot in the car. He’s a ninja, see?

Once you’re inside a matatu with ninja Kamau at the wheel, you feel instantly safe that he will get you where you need to go. That, or you suddenly get the urge to take up long distance running as a way of life, rather than as a sport.

If you choose the former, you still have the makanga to contend with. And that independence seat just behind the conductor offers no respite. If the dude did not shower that morning or is overly prone to perspiration, you’re getting a whiff of him whether you like it or not. And his manly scent is not the worst of it.

If we ever had the misfortune of entertaining Lady Ebola in Kenya, a makanga would most likely be to blame for your catching it. 

They’re swift, aren’t they? How they wipe the sweat off their brow, pick their nose, scratch their crotch, ‘welcome’ another passenger into the already fully occupied vessel and hand you your change in one fell swoop! Mind boggling. 

New Olympic sport
Makangaring should be an Olympic sport; a test in swiftness. We thank God, don’t we, that Aids is not as easily transmitted as televangelist Pat Robertson seems to think it is. We ordinary, matatu-taking Kenyans would have ceased to exist in the 90s, and an Elysium of sorts, populated by only those with personal cars, resulted. 

You see, aside Nyayo Buses (DAFs, we called them) and Kenya Buses, matatus and sometimes friendly neighbours, were the only other way of getting from one side of the country to the other.

Out of all 99 matatu related problems, death by accident and death by Ebola, are the most obviously frightening.  

Then there’s the cashlessness issue. We were supposed to have gone totally digital by July 2014. Tomorrow is November, and cash is till passing from one sweaty hand to another. This is not only unsanitary, but it also gives conductors and drivers room to play with the fare prices. 

How about the fact that cops do not check if passengers are wearing belts, or if they even exist to begin with? Not only that but, some people just don’t fit. They’re either too minute or too large. Some occupy half a seat; some occupy a lot more. The skinny get squashed and fly out of their belts in an accident. The hefty do the squashing and fly out of the windscreen because the belts were not designed accommodate them. They’re jua kali seatbelts, hastily installed in the fear that not doing so would rattle Michuki’s snakes.

And then there’s the little matter of being touched against your will. Ever notice that, when you’re unfortunate enough to share a seat, the guy next to you always has his money in the pocket that’s in contact with your hip. Why is it never in the breast pocket or even ensconced in someone’s cleavage?

And God forbid that Mr Conductor should take your fare or hand you your change without touching you. He has to grab the tip of the note between your thumb and forefinger, with all five of his phalanges. Sometimes, all ten! Ninja! The rest of that note that you’re not touching is not money. No! It couldn't possibly be worth anything is their logic.

Again, why does the makanga never give you crisp notes or shiny new coins in change? Two parts of a 50bob note are always glued together with tape and the coins always show signs of having been in a fire... or an accident.

Also, when is the Nyayo Bus coming back?

Wyre named Mziiki brand partner

Mziiki, the largest African music-streaming app has just signed Kenyan R&B and reggae/Dance 

Hall star Kevin Wyre (otherwise known as Wyre) to join the movement as Brand Partner. Wyre joins Tanzanian Bongo Flava star Diamond Platnumz whose association was announced recently.

As brand partner for Mziiki Wyre becomes a face of the brand in Kenya. “Mziiki is a cool place for people to find new music and enjoy music from their favourite artists. It’s very exciting to be a part of the Mziiki movement,” says Wyre.

Mziiki offers music-lovers an easy way to access new music anytime, anywhere. Available on Blackberry, iOS and Android mobile devices, it’s as simple as opening the app and selecting or searching for a song. The ease of access, diversity of music and variety of functions on the app offer  artists a great way to expand their fan-base. 

“Because Mziiki is easy to use, and boasts a large array of African and international music, artists get the opportunity to expand their fan base and get their music out there while minimizing piracy. 

Mziiki allows users to explore new genres and artists that they haven’t heard before,” says Arun Nagar, CEO of Spice VAS Digital, the developers of Mziiki. “We’re happy to have Wyre, who is one of Kenya’s top and most renowned artists, join Mziiki as a Brand Partner. We know his fan-base appreciates the partnership – with Mziiki, we have brought Wyre closer to his fans.”

Launched in May 2014, Mziiki has provided artists with a boost in their already-successful careers and continues to grow daily with more artists joining daily.

The 10 hardest things about losing weight

I was reading the other day, a story by a lady called Nadia Darwesh, detailing the benefits and trendiness of going raw. I remembered how, a few years ago, when I was still young and defiant, I went totally raw – against everyone’s advice – for about 3 months, lost a lot of weight (7.5kg to be exact), and a lot of bone mass along with it. It wasn't pretty, but my skin was flawless. And then foolishly went back to my ridiculously cheap diet of fries, the occasional sausage and about a litre of tomato sauce, chilli and vinegar a weak. That... that wasn’t pretty.

Three or four years down the line, I've mastered the art of weight loss, minus the bone loss, for myself and people who like me, who love meat and cheese, hate exercise and would be amazed if they could just get to a size 10. That's considered tiny here (TIA) But that's another story altogether.

In my journey, I've come to realize that not everyone appreciates you're trying to get in shape and hopefully, into some smaller clothes, and preferably ones that don’t look like body curtains. You know the kind... they look like maternity dresses, have gathers and make you look like a cylindrical window – or a spherical one, depending on how ROUND you really are. But even that wasn’t as bad. My goal was always to be like the middle child of the sizes; between the skinny and obese friends. I’m just about there. And it hasn’t been nearly as easy as I’ve let on. Here are my ten worst experiences that came and continue to come with my weight loss.

10. Your mother starts to criticize you for being so thin – as if it's such a bad thing in these times of fast-everything and morbid obesity. She might also bring you food, you know, if you're close - and she'll watch you eat it, just to make sure. She might also send money for food. If none of these things work she might a) try to lose weight with you or b) make fun of your bony frame every time you're together in public.

9. Finding foods that you enjoy eating and can afford... and that won’t kill you... and then sticking to them. I experimented a lot. Some nuts gave me gas, almonds (which are seeds by the way) didn’t. But they’re expensive. Whole wheat chapati gave me some crazy IBS, bananas make me sleepy, so now I only eat them at home when I do not need to concentrate on anything, and very close to bed time. Plus, I have to mix them into food because on their own, they make me nauseas. So now, I’ll go to a different market every week, and I’ll look at all the vegetables and fruits I’ve never eaten or even seen, and buy those in small amounts. Then I’ll consult mother Google on how they’re consumed in different cultures – cooked, raw, roasted, soaked, I’ll try anything once. Eventually, I’ll stick with what is most comfortable.

8. So it’s about 4 months down the line and you start to lose a little weight, and the reason you worked towards losing the weight is so that you’d stop buying body curtains. But guess what, the clothes you already have are so large now, that they do look like body curtains. You have to go shopping now, but you’ve spent all your money on good food, and fuel or fare to where the good food is. So now, you’re down to the only two pairs of jeans that fit, somewhat, and three of the smallest tops, which are still pretty big. Soon enough, you’re getting looks that say “...poor girl, she can’t afford to buy new clothes...” and they’re right. They’re all right. But I’m planning on it, even if it doesn’t look like it right now. It’s all good if you have ‘sponsors’ who like to buy you stuff. It’s even better when you actually like to go shopping. I hate shopping unless food is involved. So, now you see why this is on this list.

7. Nobody sees the training you’ve gone through. They only see the overnight success, the ‘Oscar’, the star. They don’t see you standing outside McFries or KFC battling the demons that are practically levitating you to the counter and mouthing, on your behalf, “give me a double cheese burger, the family-sized pack of fries and chicken nuggets, a half-litre bottle of coke and fudge ice-cream for dessert. Yes, food demons exist and need to be battled. They come in the form of friends, relatives, work mates who somehow always have money to spend, even though you earn the same, and they pay double the amount in rent. Your critics never see habits you’ve had to give up; like that stash of poison – sweets, and salties and more sweets in the corner of your second drawer.

6. Again, TIA, so there’s always this random dude friend of yours who goes like, “you know African men like women with a little meat on them.”

0_o

Well... that’s fine; I like meat on my bones too but, what are we going to do about this fat around my vital organs? Should we close our eyes and pray that it one day magically becomes MEAT?!

If you think your woman really needs a little sum-sum on her bones, Lady Gaga proved to us that beef, and other meats, are good for a lot more than just eating. You can now wear it; make a meat dress; a pork bikini; a fish bra; mango flesh socks; mutton sandals; a polar bear meat coat and boy, I bet those Eskimos knew about blubber and flesh fashion before Noah... of the ark; hey-hey here comes the chicken dress, throw on a few of the chickens’ feathers to make it really flamboyant; and don’t forget the snake meat stockings. But those are just for sinners, because, you know... the snake was cursed at creation. No? Okay bye...

And the best part about having these kinds of meat on your bones ladies and gentlemen is... drumroll please... YOU CAN ACTUALLY TAKE IT OFF AT BEDTIME. Besides, even the skinny ones have plenty of meat in, on, around them... in places. It’s the fat they’ve chosen to NOT let accumulate. Geddit?

5. Once you go black... you can never go... no not really. It’s the trash you can never go back to here. And trust me the trash (fries) will call out to you. The trash (crisps) will beg you to eat it. The trash (sugar, sugar, sugar) will make itself so cheap, that you can buy 10 for the price of 1. But if you can say ‘no’ to the trash once, you can say no every time, even when it’s free and surrounds you like air.

4. If you don’t like the taste of fruits in general, yes such people exist and I am one of them, it can be very challenging. But you know yoghurt is good for. If it’s sugared, it’s less good for you. So... take the plain, bland yoghurt, throw in a few tasty nuts, a banana or orange or apple, you have the good kinds of sugars... nature’s sweets. Mix up your foods in ways that please the taste buds or you’ll be back on your bad foods faster that you can say obese.

3. Giving people advice on how they can lose weight is also pretty hard, because you don’t remember exactly what you did. You heard something here and adopted that, heard something somewhere else and adopted that too. When the results started coming in, you got energized and started really researching ways of expediting the process. Then you realized that no such ways exist without consequences. So you joined groups for support, shared your progress and eventually got to a place where people aren’t making fun of your efforts any more, they’re actually shocked that you accomplished, or are accomplishing, what you set out to do. So they start asking for help.

You offer it. But our bodies differ, one from the next. And your friends cheat and binge on large pack of crisps or a tub of ice cream every once in a while... and they still expect results! And when they don’t see them, they just give up.

2. Skinny friends can be your biggest encouragers. They can also be your biggest hindrance. You see, some of them want to add weight so they think you’re crazy for wanting to be smaller. Others don’t want to give you a complex... well, some do. They’ll say things like, “my, you look stuffed,” when you wear something that’s too small. But the kind ones say something like, “you’re not big, you have BDD, (look that up), your body is wonderful”. In so doing they actually do give you a complex – the kind that makes you think you’re not fat when you’re actually grossly overweight.

1.   The No.1 hardest thing about losing the weight is not actually losing the weight through exercise/starvation/eating a mango a day (I did none of these things because I love food and hate exercise as advertised by gyms, athletes, doctors, and Tae Bo enthusiasts, Yoga fanatics). No. The hardest thing about losing weight is all the people you were once fat with wanting you to remain fat forever even though they have the fat in all the right places and you look like Johnny Bravo, no matter what manner of striped trickery Kenya's Joan Rivers - that's Ian Mbugua - tries to convince you will 'shape' you. That's God's business man, and he already decided that if some people go even one kilo over their 'ideal weight' they look like blocks of meat on stilts. Stripes don't help us. Neither do friends who discourage us from losing weight. But losing weight does, because it allows us to wear belts like normal people.

Those have been my experiences. Do you have any that you’d like to share? Email me: njerimuchai@outlook.com