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“FIF” factor of a bucket list

It so happens that…….ooh well it just did, so Kick It!  There is something about bucket lists.

Granted the Movie was and still is one of the best in my view. I just find them ….a little ginene. (Ginene is a rather magical phrase. It can fill the space in a conversation where you can’t just find the right word. It can be something naughty….for the times you’re referring to something of the sexual nature or describing a body part. It it can also be as simple as saying the word “something”) 

I have realized that “F*&^ it” lists are more interesting. Reflecting deeply on this, it so happens (aaah there you go) this was more of what I lived by. Such a handy, refreshing, invigorating, and ginene mantra not just for work but in life. I called it the FIF factor

The FiF factor is inspired by comedy one guy to be specific: Katt Williams…a confession here folks. I looove comedy to bits. Comedians are the angels of this life.  Just think about; if you can’t laugh, what can you do!?

So FIF is F*&^ it Factor,  or just FIF factor. Have you ever had one of those experiences where no matter the effort you put down, either by design, influence or just randomness; things don’t work as they were to be….<okay you can insert the phenomena that is “the Boss” here>.

So FIF!

Or those things that our so called “society” expects you should have done, or achieved by xx age and you are no where close to the vicinity of it..just like the milk in the tea served at funerals. Just FIF!

Katt Williams so rightly puts it….

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…….there is a chemical in…..that is called F*&^ it/ and if you could just get that into your system it could change your life

To Katt, there is a context to the FIF.  But trust you me you can always learn and borrow the FIF and live by it, without the need for Katt’s context for the FIF.

What’s the 11th item on your bucket list? Hell there is only one thing. Its more than just a list.. its the FIF factor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Random rumblings in the Here and Now…

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It so happens I am a “Noct”! Actually the word is a nocturnal but it sounds more modern-high-techie said as so. I’m not sure if “Noct” is actually a word. But hey! I always have been, a Noct-I become active at night rather than going to bed. For this I am blaming my design school days where I would “sleep tomorrow and wake up tomorrow”.

This is not uncommon. What am up to is ..errm… not that it is not important. Well lets see

I just stumbled on an interesting DIY website, and there is this link from a online group I belong to that has got me glued to my screen. The wrist-watch search I have been doing for a long while, it is now that I am getting some good hits, and the mosquitoes are on a blood-thirsty frenzy.

Wait…. and there is this radio stationed that I have stumbled on as I started this which is playing some classic African rhumba music. The kind of music that is 12 minutes long. Twelve minutes of soothing , leg thumping and finger snapping from the perfect marriage of guitar strings ad mellow sounds and a bass line so perfect. I feel like I am swimming. 12 whole minutes of nothingness that is not boredom. 12 minutes of music in a language that is unknown to me but I don’t care. The 12 minutes makes me wonder what could I do in the 12 minutes that the song is playing .

Such is the fire to the “Noct” behaviour. More like the wood that keeps a fire at the camp-fire alive and kicking….I digress.

If I had only 12 minutes left what would I do with it? Think of the pretty faces that I missed the chance chat up rather than smile and admire from far? Remember the embarrassing stuff I have done in my yesteryears? Weed out my phone book? Catch up with this book that is now overdue…truthfully am afraid to finish reading it. Could this be that I am delaying gratification? Why did I get internet to the house…it is not helping!?

Well three songs have passed. 3 sets of 12 minutes thinking with my fingers on the keyboard. What did I do with the 12 minutes? I did this; what is here. Words of admitting my nocturnal tendencies.

I am still breathing. My senses still good and for this I give Thanks. Another 12 minute track is about to end, it is coming to the part where you can’t hold it and have to get up and dance.

Enjoy your sets of 12 minutes.

Image courtesy of http://www.12minuteathlete.com/

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Write Here, Write Now

Reset

So happens that its been quite a while since I penned something. I guess i let it really go. Sometimes the best way to go back to get back to the beginning of it…

I variation of my name is OTIENO B.C. WHY because I believe names are versions of yourself. I’m told I laugh alot, I smile alot, I’m loud, I’m tall, and if this is what is seen then it’s true. I think I’am shy, but I’ve seen myself overcome it day by day!

I love the outdoors, find humour in people (our behaviour, our words), enjoy ideas from people, and adding value to what is there around me. I am a communicator, who i think as a bridge to what can be and will be.

I’m a collector of sorts, every item, picture, scrap, is connected to some story. In my next life I will probably be the ocean, so that i can travel wherever. In my past life… well this is it. I think I have used the word “think” so many times and will continue to do so till my last breath because thinking and ideas are the greatest asset of my generation..

These writings are what happens at various times in my year if my name was a year. The year OTIENO B.C.

I have never done this before, so here goes……

De-warm-ah!

“Nikusaidiaje Chief” (How can help you chief), asked the watchman; okay security guard; as I just cleared the 2 steps into the building. These guys always amuse me with the things they say and ask. Maybe its a tactic to deter loiters. I imagine to myself that they probably get into  trouble with the coastal women-folk, the buibui clad women who have a mastery of the put-you-in-your-place tongue lash. I can’t help but chuckle under my breath

“Wait do i look like I’m loitering?” I quickly scan myself, “naah, nothing loiter-ish about my appearance today”

“Hapana soja, niko sawa, asante” I assure the soja, probably leaving him wondering why I was smiling to myself from his question. I can feel him staring at my head, and probably thinking he should have scanned me with those metal-detecting things of theirs. “he can sort himself out” I mutter and head on my way.

I head towards the stairs ignoring the now familiar smell of vet drugs and supplies. Its a big room or rather space with shelves stacked with all sorts of items and sacks on the ground. The stairs are actually those cross breed types- like it was to be a spiral stairway but not really and is some what straight, then on ascending you keep curving along the wall. It’s steep steps not making it any better.

On getting to the floor above, it the usual scene; typical of our front-counter shops. Customers lined up on one side trying to catch the eye of the many female attendants who keep zig-zagging across the room on the other side of the counter. Zooming in and out of the shelves lined with boxes and packets of various sizes and shapes.

“By the end of the day I bet they would have walked the equivalent distance of Mombasa to Kilifi or there about” that voice in my head confidently asserts.

At the other end of the table, is a computer work station where they regularly check the  product codes and print out the invoice/receipt and what not. They (the uniformed ladies) tend to crowd there a little longer, I guess its hard to find the letter ‘e’ after the zig-zag dance across the room.

Just before the counter on the left end of the “room” was a low lying (coffee) table and a young lady leaning over it, her small fingers busy writing on an order book, transferring things from a shopping list of some sort.

“Hello! she is new here. Haven’t seen her the last time I was around here”

Her face was as bright and glowy as her bosom. She had a young face, pretty and her bosom too.

“Okay!… enough with the bosom!”.

But I couldn’t help it, even if I wanted I could not not see the bosom. Okay I could, if I closed my eyes and if or when I addressed her, I talked with my eyes closed. Plus my height was giving me an undue ad vantage-point, over the bosom and glowy face .

‘Scribble, scribble, scribble… tear off the page. start another one’ Just like a stage performance she went on.

“Please don’t address me please don’t address…” I kept saying to myself. But you know the way things go, what you wish not to happen, actually happens just to show you who’s boss.

She then looks up slightly and smiles at me, a warm smile that makes the glow even more. She was probably in the lower quintile of her 20s, maybe. Miss Glow will definitely kill many without trying hard, and she will certainly make this very difficult if she comes to be the one to attend to me.

So I do the only sensible thing. I move away. And slowly,  towards the counter while also trying to squeeze a smile so that hers doesn’t go to waste.

“Take one last look at the glow, she knows you saw her glows” Curse! this brain of mine.

Getting to the counter, I don’t bother to hustle to get through to the front , no worries I just wallow in the scent of the pharmaceuticals, paper and money. I’m in no hurry to get the attention of the zig-zagging ladies, nor get to the counter. Why? I don’t know! Probably because I have not yet decided how I will ask what I want to ask.

“Ooh why do I have to be tall?” I avoid eye contact with the female attendants, as I try to look preoccupied as if to recall what brought me here.

Sasa! sema…?

I’m brought back to my senses, only to realize that I’m the one at the counter, and on the other end who but Miss “Glowy”! I’m dazed, I quickly look back wondering when and how did she finish her scribbling and get back to this other side of the room. She smiles at my reaction, probably noticing my confused look. She seems pleased with her self, enjoying my reaction to her flash-Gordon like actions.

“Ooh such pretty hands and tiny fingers she has”  Okay how did I move from recovering from the shock to noticing her hands? Then they say men cannot multi-task!

“Ooh Hi, you’re chap chap” I respond back, gesturing behind me with my left hand.

Another smile.

“Okay, so I would like aaa aah… uummm, where is it..”  I stretch my neck as if trying to see something that had just been brought onto the counter.

aaiiii, haiko” (not there), I respond.

“I would like a dewormer”.

I didn’t notice I had whispered, till I saw her face blank out, she then moved slightly towards me and half way through, seemed to have gotten what I wanted, and leaned back.

“Maybe she also can read lips”…I don’t know, maybe.

She turns around, hesitated for a few seconds. Probably “trying to remember the aisle where my order may be at” …yeah maybe.

And they still glowed, the face and bosom in unison.

It probably would have been easier to buy this

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The Good, the Ugly and the Aha! of celebrating women

I like having a good time, well who doesn’t? The secret I learnt about having a good time is that the longer it’s extended the better, kinda makes sense why Mondays are hated (light bulb!). It so happens that having a good time is one of the great Kenyan habits we love to celebrate and finding an excuse to celebrate (I think its African). In the spirit of keeping it real with my Kenyaness, as the world marked International Women’s Day this March…I’m saying let it be Women’s Month!

cel•e•brate verb \ˈse-lə-ˌbrāt v.intr.
1) To observe an occasion with appropriate ceremony or festivity.
2) To engage in festivities

So other than the drinks going around-okay where I’m at, there have been drinks going round the entire week, and Yes tea does count! I thought what better way to celebrate and give a toast to the womenfolk than through some (interesting) facts about women.

PS: If it so happens that I do not survive this month by virtue of some of these “toasts”, then I say unto you… “Life is too short, go ahead poke the bear and cross the road”

THE GOOD…

1.  The female sex sign is represented by a small cross with a circle on top; and this sign actually is the same one which represents planet Venus (men are from someplace-the pitch and women are from Venus)

2.  Women mature much faster than men; so explains their command of diction and fast paced talking. I guess also why it is said that man discovered fire, but the woman learned how to use it

3.  The two highest IQ’s ever recorded (on a standard test) both belong to women.

4.  Female mechanics get paid more than male mechanics Why? For the answer we revert to stereotypes: Women are more verbal than men, they’re easier to approach and to talk to and both genders agree that women instill more trust in others — at least with car trouble.

5.  Almost everywhere in the world, women have a higher life expectancy than men do.

THE UGLY…

6.  Women own only 1% of the world’s land

7.  Approximately one in five women worldwide reports being sexually abused before the age of 15

8.  Over 100,000 girls got pregnant in South Africa in 2011 from old men

9.  About 16 million adolescent girls become pregnant each year, with over 90% of those girls living in developing countries.

10.  Each day 800 women die as result of pregnancy or childbirth complications. Nearly 99% of these deaths occur in developing nations with more than half of these deaths occurring in sub-Saharan Africa and almost one third occurring in South Asia.

11.  There was a woman who was pregnant for 17 months 11 days and is recorded as the longest human pregnancy ever.

12.  1 in 10 African adolescent girls miss school during menses and eventually drop out because of menstruation-related issues. But then a donation of Kshs.200 towards buying sanitary pads can keep a Kenyan girl in school for one year?

THE LOST…

13.  Globally less than 16% of the world’s parliamentarians are women. In Kenya recent election only 16 Women had been elected as MPs. None of those that vied for the governor or senator positions won. The number of women MPs elect may remain the same as in the previous parliament despite the exponential increase of constituencies from 210 to 290 countrywide.

14.  For the first time in the history of the Olympics, the 2012 U.S Olympic team had more women than men. 269 women and 261 men.

15.  Women who play more online video games tend to be happier in their relationships than those who don’t.

THE AHA!…

16.  The average guy’s largest muscles: His quadriceps (yaani the sqwaqs or maskwembes) the average woman: Her uterus

17.  The average guy spends 1 hour and 20 minutes a week looking for the TV remote. The average woman: 7 minutes (I don’t mind the average, coz I think I’m above average but once I searched for the remote for 12 hours)

18.  93% of female mobile phone users feel safer with a phone, 85% feel more independent; 41% use their phones to increase their income and professional opportunities. I just wonder why then it takes them too long to find the phones in their hand bags when ringing

19.  Women will drive miles out of their way to avoid the possibility of getting lost using a shortcut

20.  The most embarrassing thing for women is to find another woman wearing the same dress at a formal party

21.  If a woman goes on a seven-day trip she’ll pack 21 outfits because she doesn’t know what she’ll feel like wearing each day. DARE to offer to carry her luggage and you’ll share my experience

Sources;

Osisa, WHO,  APHRCUNUSAID, Randomhistory.com,

What worries me about being Kenyan and a 12 year old President

It so happens that today is the second day after voting in Kenya. The second day after we stood in the sun or shade from 2, 3, or others 10 hours so as to exercise our civic right and duty to cast our ballot.

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Amazingly, on this day two and with the hullabaloo about the delay in relaying results, its amazing to see and talk to people and see them stressed, going through emotions, lose all energy, from their choice candidate either not showing growth in votes, or votes growing at snails pace. Personally I think the time could be well spent doing something like washing the dishes, or looking for a girl who can make chapatis.

We Kenyans are a worrisome lot and of short memory; and this is the one thing that Worries me about being Kenyan. We should be more concerned about the Governors, Senators, Ward Representatives and Women Reps or if we can attain the 2 thirds gender balance.

The constitution we passed, immensely devolved power and decisions to a point where even a 12 year old can be president, if so the people would choose one. A system of checks from Parliament and Senate to ensure that each and every appointment or decision is proper and representative of the country and for the good of it.

We should be more concerned if we voted the right people into the Senate who will represent the diversity, safeguard the interest, support and push the development of our counties as well as, with the muscle to check the upper house.

A Governor who has a clear development and management sense to be entrusted to manage the affairs of the county including resource and revenue management and mobilization.

MP’s who understand policy issues and can effectively and efficiently look at the interest of our constituencies and wards,and have the balls to stand up and check on the excesses or decisions of the President and Executive. One who will be interested in the good of the people not their own.

Ward representatives who have the aspirations of the local people at heart and not merely interested in being “big shots” and flexing their muscles to be recognized as waheshimiwas. Those who understand that the local infrastructure is their business.

Women Rep, who will not just be there as flowers to the cap of the house. That they can articulate the agenda of the people not just of women, but of men, children, men, the aged and whole society. Women who will be heard and not just seen. Who will have the ability to make their mark in history as women of influence of political and development will and strength.

This is what I worry more about. Give me a toddler as president for all I care, but if these are not set, then it does not matter whom we elect president. Because it will not be any  different from our last disappointment of a government.

PS. I’m thinking of moving to the diaspora, so that next time I can vote diaspora-tically. I can’t miss girls who’re expert chapati makers there or at least pancakes would also do.