Friday, 25 April 2014

What Women Wished Men Knew - By Lyz Wainaina

Lyz Wainaina
What better way to know what women wish men knew, than to be told by the women themselves. I don’t  imply to be a guru on either women or men's issues. However, this is just my two-cents of what as a woman I wish our men knew. My name is Lyz Wainaina, and I hope this article will be of help to your relationship and marriage. 

    7.     We really don't mind if you open doors and pull out chairs for us. Be old fashioned from time to time – we freaking love it. Hold the door for us, walk us to the car park, hold our hands – that always melts our hearts. I promise chivalry won’t make you less of a man. 

    8.      You don't always have to pay for everything. Unless you are dating a confused, young and restless woman whose interest in you is your money and status, allow us to take care of the bills once in a while.

      9.      Not calling when you said you'd call. Women hate it when you don’t keep your word. If you promised to call, kindly do so. It’s that simple. Excuses and long explanations afterwards will only make us stop trusting you.

       10.   We are not screwing our male friends. Some of us have lots of male friends. Our best buddies that we spend all our dateless Saturday night with are not a threat. You have to figure, if we wanted to date them, we would have done it already. Don't go into jealous mode just because there's a male voice on the phone. Get the facts straight before you lose sleep over it. Understand that we are with you coz we love you. 

       11.    We love intelligent men. Who wants to date or marry a man who has, with due respect, nothing between his ears. A man who knows nothing else other than David Moyes personal life and the history of football. We love smart, intelligent and mature men. Men who are focused and have a clear direction in life. 

       12.    Learn to say sorry. We might not tell you, but we truly appreciate when you apologize for upsetting us after a fight. Even if we started it.

       13.   Be there for us. If you know we aren’t looking our potential, then speak up and give us some helpful criticism! We’d rather that than “fine” which (to us) means “not good.” Even when we’re looking and feeling our very best, we still love your reassuring and attention.

       14.   We love dirty talk… A lot! Ooh! Yeah! You heard it.

       15.   Small things matter. Women absolutely love it when you come up behind us and wrap your arms around us and whisper, “I love you.” Even if we’ve been dating a year or more, we still get excited when our phone lights up with a random, thoughtful or sexy text from you.

        16.   Read between the lines. When we say, “just leave me alone” it is almost always a silent plea for you to hug us and tell us everything is going to be alright. 

        Be sure to check out and like my online retail shop that specializes in men and women's clothing, shoes, health/beauty and fashion accessories on Facebook Page at Lizzy Collections.

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

What Women Wished Men Knew - Part I

A while ago I wrote an article on What Men Wished Women Knew - Part I and II. As far as most men are concerned, women are extremely complicated, and can and will never be understood. In fact, we are told that men are from Mars, while women are from Venus. This essentially cements the ideology we have grown to accept that no one can ever figure women. For most men, women are perceived as demanding, nagging, unrealistic, and complex creatures whom no one will ever know what they are, and or want. Well, against this backdrop and for what is worth, what if women opened up and for a moment told us what they wished we knew about them? Will that help in understanding them, and at least get a glimpse of what they want? 

From my small undercover mission interacting with women, including the very special woman in my life, I tried to answer the very century-old question of what women want. Therefore, today I give you a little dose of what women wished men knew. So, brothers buckle up, get your notebook and pen, and allow me to the voice of women today.
  1. Match your words with actions. If you say you love her, let your actions also prove it. You can't possibly love her if you abuse her, disrespect her, cheat on her and not make her a priority in your life. Remember, if you treat her like a Queen, she will treat you like a King. Let your words do the walking. Let her see your efforts and commitment in making the relationship work and creating a better life for both of you. Women like men of action. Not men who charter like parrots from January to December with zero action and zero effort.  
  1. We're suckers for romance. In case you haven't realized that by now, well, here we go: women pant for romance just like a deer pants for water. Romance is their fuel, their air filter, engine oil, air cleaner, brake fluid and gearbox oil. Surprise her with a home cooked meal, a movie ticket, flower, new dress. And don't forget the shoes. You don't have to walk on the Moon or catch a grenade for her, though I'm sure she won't mind. However, in small little ways, show her affection, adore her, value her, cherish her, appreciate her, prioritize her. 
  1. Put a ring on it. If you like her, put a ring on it. Do you really have to date her till the Second Coming to be sure if she is the woman you want to marry? Better put a ring on it before she hits menopause or her weave turns yellow. For if you don't, someone else will. 
  1. Never, ever forget our birthday or anniversary. Write it down. Memorize it. Stamp it on your forehead. Hang a poster around your neck. Tattoo it on your chest. Scribe it on the windscreen of your car or on a bottle of your frothy waters. Do whatever you have to do to remember. And in case you didn't get the memo: forgetting her birthday or your anniversary is tantamount to treason, murder, adultery, fraud, violence, battery and crimes against humanity. 
  1. We're not porn stars in bed. In porn movies, the ladies are always good to go anytime and anywhere, well, but not in the real world. In the real world, it takes time for a woman's motor to warm up. Unlike in porn movies, in the real world you can't turn her libido on like a light switch. Learn the art of foreplay. Let your lips walk all over her body. Learn to go southern tropical on her. By the way, sucking her boobs for 18 seconds and spanking her in a hurry as if you are missing your flight isn't foreplay. Unless you are 'paying for the service or shooting an adult movie' or you work for the Nairobi City Fire Department, remember foreplay takes time, patience and effort, and is done gently, slowly and with order. 
  1. Clothing and shoes cost a lot more than you realize. Before you start name-calling where I'm sure gold digger and materialistic won't miss the list, understand that she needs to look good for you, and that cost money. Looking classy, elegant and stylish comes with a price tag. So, bottom line: don't be too stingy with your money. After all, she is your woman and if you truly love her, the way you claim, this shouldn't be rocket science. 
 to be concluded...

Monday, 21 April 2014

You do you, I do me - The Conclusion

He had big eyes, which I joked enabled him to see tomorrow. His pursuit for happiness strangely involved staring at women's cleavage till I had begun to suspect that maybe he wasn’t breast-fed enough when he was a toddler. He used to outwardly stare at women's cleavage so seriously as if it was the source of the air he was breathing. In fact, I had even begun toying with the noble idea of advising him to either see a televangelist for paid prayers, or visit my uncle Theophilus Shimuchira Makwakwa, a renowned self-proclaimed village sex therapist. 

Despite his ridiculous big nose that made him look like an artifact in a third world museum, Abuya Abuya was the only person I knew who could make any problem go away. He had laughed so hard, I was afraid his laughter would wake the dead, when I told him about my little 'complication' with Aisha. Daggie, that shouldn't bother anyone like you, he had said with the audacity of a village warlord. So, you can take care of her? I had asked with lots of interest. Consider it done, he had said with finality. 

Aisha of all the people should have known better no to bite the hand that fed her. I made her who she was, and the least she could do was walk away without issuing threats regarding telling my wife Cherono about our affair. I saved her from the claws of poverty, unemployment and primitiveness.

I remember the first time I laid my eyes on her. It was a sunny Friday morning, when the curvaceous and bootylicious Aisha had shown up at the Company’s office apparently to see me. She was sitting on the comfy sofa seats across my big Mahogany table dressed in an attractive lady suit. She was struggling to look serious and professional, while her cute legs were princely crisscrossed as she avoided revealing the contents underneath her cute office skirt

The chicken that digs for food will never go hungry, I had remembered a certain African proverb as I curiously inquired why she wanted to see me. Turns out, she had read a feature in the newspaper about the Company, and with nothing to lose, she had come to see if there was any vacancy. She had recently graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in administration from one of the leading universities, thanks to a scholarship program by some big-mouthed NGO.

Her story sounded like a perfect project beneficiary that NGO’s vision and mission are made of: Poor parents, from a marginalized community, promoting girl-child education and rights, gender inequality, and the likes. Having listened to her story that read like a script from a slavery movie. The least I could do for this young, charming, witty and adorable daughter of Eve was to give her an opportunity, or so I thought. Of course, my intention was purely reduced to secretly google her cute aphrodisiacal Swahili ass around the office while undressing her with my eyes. 

Later that day, Aisha had officially been recruited as my personal secretary. Hiring her out rightly of course would not have gone down well with other employees or even with Cherono. That’s why in my wisdom, or lack of it, I had instantaneously and formally piloted an internship program for the Company, as a way of not only giving back to the society, but also as a classic integral dimension of giving young prospective graduates an unadulterated opportunity to acquire knowledge and skills from this high-esteemed, well-regarded and venerated acclaimed Company. Well, at least that’s what the email sent to Company employees and the management said. To them she was an intern receptionist. But to me, she was my personal secretary.

A year down the lane, thanks to the competitive salary I was paying her and the skillfulness of how I squeezed rocky orgasms from her tender loins, Aisha had literally transformed from some village girl into a stylish, elegant and classy lady. Now forgetting where she came from and thinking she made herself, she had the audacity to threaten me. 

A week after my conversation with Abuya Abuya, Aisha's body was discovered in her apartment alongside a suicide note. The alleged suicide note read something like a Nigerian script movie: she didn't find fulfillment in life, her life was meaningless… blah blah... My father used to say that you need three things in life: a forgiving priest, a clever lawyer and a good wife. If you ask me, you need only two things in life: a good wife, and Abuya Abuya. 


the conclusion... 

Thursday, 17 April 2014

You do you, I do me - Part II

My father used to say that you need three things in life: a forgiving priest, a clever lawyer and a good wife. Well, for the longest time I thought I had them all, until that sunny Tuesday morning when my wife Cherono stormed into my office demanding the immediate resignation of the my childhood friend Abuya Abuya, who was the Company's Director for Security Affairs, Offshore Investment, Risk Management and New Business Development. 

I hadn't spoken to Cherono for a couple of days since she found out I had hired Abuya Abuya. Now standing in my office (actually her office), and ranting like a drunkard father-in law who feels he was short-changed during the dowry negotiation for his daughter, Cherono was on a mission to save mankind. Her lips looked juicily pampered but her words cut like a razor blade. She wanted Abuya Abuya out of the Company and she wasn't interested in anything less. 

An hour later, I had slipped my right hand under her sexy little dirty sequired dress on the couch in the office, while whispering good nothings in her ears. In essence, as my finger was acquainting itself with her southern tropical, I was reminding her how she was the only tree in my forest and the only star in my cosmos, and how Abuya Abuya and I were essentially brothers, and if she loved me, she should prove it by showing the same love for him. By the end of it all, Cherono had reluctantly approved of Abuya Abuya's appointment, albeit on one condition - he was under no circumstance allowed to summon her again.

Interestingly, she wasn't done. She wanted to understand exactly what Aisha's duties and responsibilities were. As far as she was concerned, I didn't need a personal secretary and having one was an unnecessary expense which the Company could do without. In addition, she added, the office reception could as well as very effectively and efficiently perform the role of Aisha. Trust me, for once I actually agreed with her. Her argument and observation made so much sense that I didn't have enough ammunition to counter it. And with that, Aisha's goose had just been roasted. She was to leave the Company in a month's time. 

Now, there was a complication. Since I was literally oiling her cleavage as if she was my wife, she wasn't going to leave without making her demands. I knew she would make a few small, perhaps insignificant demands, such as buying her a Samsung Galaxy S4, some Loius Vuitton shoes and the like. But trust me, if I thought Aisha was going to leave quietly as she came, I sure was wrong.

According to our little arrangement, I used to sleep over at her place, in some furnished apartment in Kilimani, Nairobi, where of course I used to pay her rent, once a week. Additionally, I could oil her cleavage and play with her big heart (read boobs) in the office, anytime and any day my raging hormones so wished. Now that essentially she was going to miss all those privileges, she had quite some demands. She wanted I buy for her the apartment she was living; enroll her in a degree course in the University of Nairobi; keep her still under the Company's payroll and finally, start making plans of marrying her as my second wife. Failure to do so, she had tried to sound like a mafia lord, she would spill the beans of our affair to my wife, Cherono.

Aisha, the lovely Mamacita from coastal Kenya may have had all the beauty that the gods could afford to give her, however, she forgot four things about me. First, I made her and I could easily destroy her. Secondly, no one and I mean no one, including the devil himself can threaten me, especially when it comes to my wife and our beneficial marriage of convenience. Thirdly, I was yours truly, a self-made man, who was now enjoying the toil of my craftiness, corruption and wisdom - and in case, she hadn't read the memo, my policy just like my wife's, was simple: you do you, I do me. But if you step on my foot, mess with my lane and meddle in my business, then sweetheart, we have a problem, a big problem. Fourthly, I may not have had a good wife, but I certainly had a forgiving priest and a clever lawyer. 

to be continued...

Monday, 14 April 2014

You do you, I do me - Part I

Thanks to life's teachings, I'm one person who has perfected the act of minding my own business. My policy, to loosely put it is: you do you, I do me. In other words, stick to your lane, I stick to mine. However, don't get me wrong, I do care for people, sometimes. The only problem is when you step on my foot, mess with my lane and meddle in my business. That way sweetheart I can guarantee you, we will certainly have a problem, a big problem. 

These were the words of my wife Cherono sharply directed to my childhood friend, Abuya Abuya, who used to say that his name was so sweet you have to say it twice. Now before I tell you what led my wife to blurter those words in anger and disgust, let me first tell you how it all began. 

As the Chief Executive Officer of the the Company, the entity which oversaw all business ventures of my wife, I appointed Abuya Abuya the Company's Director for Security Affairs, Offshore Investment, Risk Management and New Business Development. In other words, Abuya Abuya was my tool boy whose role was primarily to help me embezzle Company money and stash it in secret accounts. In addition, his duty was to also keep those fellows at the Kenya Revenue Authority 'happy' to the extent of them giving a blind eye to matters tax returns and all that legal jargon that no one honestly gives a f*%k. 

Expectedly, my wife Cherono was bitterly opposed to Abuya Abuya's appointment. But then, I was the Company boss and constitutionally my word was final. Of course, to put it softly we had a bitter exchange of words, the day she found it. Perhaps maybe if you weren't so busy feeding hungry rascals in some children's home you could have proposed a more qualified person for the position, I had shouted at her as I slammed the door on my way out of the house. Cherono had become some sort of overnight Mother Teresa. She talked, breath, eat, and dreamt about homeless kids. Half of the house's shopping used to be taken to some children's home in Nairobi's Eastlands. Well not that I cared, at least she had something to keep her busy besides watching our wedding video a million times everyday and overfeeding our daughter Chantel with cereals. As I was about to pull out of the driveway, she had shouted by reminding me that I should not forget she is the founder of the Company, and had rescinded the daily management of the Company because of raising our beautiful daughter Chantel and giving back to the community. 

And rightfully so, she had a point, a valid one at that. I had married her for her wealth, though she thought I married her for love. My main agenda for walking down that aisle and reluctantly allowing her to adopt my last name was the only available option I could access her wealth. Other than that, our marriage to put it plainly was just a matter of convenience where I frequently oiled her cleavage with African machismo, cosmetically told her sweet nothings and called her soap opera-like names, and pretty much acted as the perfect husband. 

We didn't speak to each other for four days after our last outburst regarding Abuya Abuya's executive appointment. She did her business in the house as if I was invisible. Of course, I was very happy we weren't talking to each other. This is because at least I could come home late, by late I mean at 2 am without being subjected to an FBI-kind of interrogation of where I was, who I was with, what I was doing and why I had come home at very ungodly hours. I was also very happy we weren't talking to each other because at least together with Abuya Abuya, we could bond with those erstwhile daughters of eve at Dinks carrying huge handbags as if the future of mankind depended on them. Dinks was our favourite drinking joint sandwiched in the leafy Nairobi's Lavington estate. For me Dinks was a preview of how I thought the afterlife would be like. It had delicious food, hot women, lovely music and free personalised service, if you know what I mean. 

I enjoyed and for good reason hanging out with women who frequented Dinks. Most of them were very successful, independent women making their own money and doing very well in life, albeit they were single. The only thing they yearned so much in life besides the air they breathe and the expensive cars they drove was laying their hands on a young blooded, honest and caring fellow. Lucky for me, I perfectly fitted the bill. This of course explained why most of them would compete to send drinks at my direction with the intention of catching my attention. Of course, with time two of them caught my attention, but this is a story for another day. 

Two months after his appointment, perhaps out of the oasis of his wisdom or lack of it, Abuya Abuya had written an email to my wife Cherono, who was still a senior board member in the Company, summoning her to the office. Apparently he wanted to be given access to all sensitive information of the Company's investment portfolio, or at least that is how part of the email gnorantly read. He had causally asked if I could give him the information, and I remember jokingly telling him that you know madam is still the one running this Company behind the scenes. Unknown to me, he had taken the joke too literally, ending up summoning Cherono to the office.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when Cherono showed up at the office looking as if she was about to turn into a pillar of salt if she was not going to kill someone. I was very lucky she came in a little bit too early, because if she could have come in twenty minutes later she could have caught me squeezing a pornographic orgasm out of Aisha's slender and tender loins. Aisha, a beautiful and sexy pretty thing born and brought up in coastal Kenya was my personal secretary, who didn't mind going beyond the call of duty to make the boss 'happy'. 

Bursting into my corner office with Abuya Abuya in tow, Cherono had looked straight into his eyes and with anger and disgust had blurted those minding my own business... you do you, I do me words. For a moment, I stood there confused like a homeless Canadian hooker. Well, if I thought I had seen it all, sure enough I had no idea what was coming. My mama used to say that big-legged women would kill me. Honestly, I hope she was wrong.

to be continued...

Friday, 11 April 2014

Let's talk about money: 12 Reasons Why You'll Never Be Rich

1.       You don't have a plan. Perhaps you have heard this: those who don't plan, plan to fail. Without having a financial goal and plan is like travelling with no idea where you are going. 

2.       You either don't save or don't save enough. Let's be real, you want to be rich, SAVE. You can't save 100 shillings monthly and still dream of buying a 10 million house in six years. Depending on what you want to own or have, save enough.

3.      You waste your time and money on things that don't matter. Do you spend your time and money wisely to enhance your chances to be rich? You can't be watching television series from January to December, drink yourself silly every weekend, shop till you drop dead every time you have a little money and expect to be rich. Remember you can't manage wealth, if you can't manage your time.

4.      You hang out with the wrong friends. Are your friends adding any value to your life? Do they want the same things in life as you, or are they pulling you South when you want to go North? They say birds of a feather flock together. You want to fly, hang out with eagles not chickens, sweetheart, chickens don't fly. 

5.      You spend more than you make. If your expenditure is more than your income, sweetheart, stop lying to yourself, the damn truth is you will never be rich. 

6.      You don't use your talent, skills and knowledge. Ever wondered what you are good at that you probably can utilize to become rich? Are you a good cook? A good writer? A good singer? A good sports person? A good painter? A good counsellor? A good presenter? A lover of fashion? A good driver? Guess what buddy, the world is full of millionaires who became rich just by using their talent, skills, passion and knowledge. Keep bitching as you blame the Government, your relatives, men or women for your broke ass, as the world passes you by.

7.      You are caught up in unnecessary debts. Dude, if you take a loan to fuel your car, you aren't ready to be a car owner, and guess what you are heading into poverty. Do you borrow money to go out partying? Stop getting into unnecessary debts and you will start seeing your money grow.

8.      You invest in flossets rather than assets. Do you invest in liabilities or assets? Liabilities is anything that depreciates in value, while assets is anything that appreciates in value. Dude, unless your car brings income and appreciates in value, its NOT an asset.  Stop buying things to simply show off (flossets). Stop trying too hard to sustain an image or lifestyle you can hardly finance. Be yourself, live within your means. 

9.      You are not patient. Are you caught up in the get rich quick mentality? Do you invest in things after doing adequate research or do you invest as a result of hype? Yesterday it was pyramid schemes, today is quails and quail eggs, tomorrow probably it will be tits for cows. You can't be running around investing in any new hype in town. Follow your financial goal and plan. Take time, research, investigate, then invest. To be rich you got to be patient. Keep watering the seed until it becomes a big tree. It takes time and it takes patience. 

10.   You want to start big on day one. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Think big, but start small. Don't despise humble beginnings. 

11.    You are an expert in postponing things. There are two types of people: those who do things, and those who sit back and give a million ideas on how it could have been done differently. Are you the I will do that tomorrow, I will start next year when I get a raise type of guy? Or are you the I may not have enough resources right now, but I'm gonna give it a shot right anyway?

12.    You think you know it all. Learn from others who have gone before you. Attend personal financial management courses. Read books, research, and ask questions. You don't know everything, and you can't be an expert in everything. Be humble enough to learn and be taught. 

Sweetheart, the world doesn't owe you a favour, and in fact no one does. It's your life, make it count. Now stop blaming everyone around you for your broke ass, get off your bum, take control of your own life and go make some money. Class dismissed. 

Ooh! one more thing, be sure to watch Daggiefresh open talk on personal financial freedom, click this link.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNmkKv5X8Ug 

Thursday, 10 April 2014

The sins of Nairobi

Nairobi, Kenya's capital city has an estimated population of slightly over 3 million people and is the most populous city in East Africa. Okay, enough of the boring history. According to my crystal ball, well, for those who missed the memo regarding my credibility of using crystal balls, here we go: I am a descendant of His Royal the Worship, your Highness, the Great King Nabongo Mumia, whose Kingdom traversed the mountains and valleys from Eastern Uganda right into the Western and Rift Valley regions of Kenya. 

In simple terms, this means I have certain privileges in life such as consulting crystal balls, cursing traffic cops under my breath and remembering to forget paying Tony, my movie and porn supplier. Anyway, as I was saying, according to my crystal ball, Nairobi has twelve sins. And in case you again missed the memo, here they are:

1. Eating nyama choma (read roasted meat) and drinking ourself silly every weekend is a matter of national importance. Ever wondered why most Nairobi men look seven month's pregnant (read pot belly)?. Or ever wondered why Nairobi has so many nyama choma and drinking joints, more than the number of latrines, churches, schools and houses combined?Well buddy, there you have it - nyama choma and drinking ourselves to an artificial coma every weekend is regarded as economic empowerment, a sacred affair and matters of national importance.

2. Marital infidelity better known as mpango wa kando is our way of dealing with stress, high cost of living, boredom, traffic jam, insecurity, corruption, poverty, unemployment, nagging women, broke husbands/boyfriends... name them. 

3. We would rather be knocked by a speeding car than get rained on.

4. We like starring at things happening and milling around and running towards scenes of accident and disaster. We would rather block emergency services and the police from accessing an accident scene just because we want to stare at what unfolded or is unfolding.

5. We would do absolutely everything and anything to own an 8 year old second-hand Japan imported juggernaut that is literally held together by paint, rust and an insurance sticker. For the record, everything and anything means: we would kill ourselves with crazy high interest loans, force a deal at work by any means, date five sugar daddies at the same time for three years, sleep with all the managers at work for a raise, court witches, sell ancestral land in the village, start churches and NGOs just to raise enough money to own a car. Never mind that we don't care about education fund for our little rascals, investment or any of that sh*t.

6. We would instantly kill a starving street kid caught stealing a banana but we will stand for hours along the streets and attend political rallies on empty stomachs to clap and cheer our leaders who are stealing billions of our hard-earned money.

7. We would do anything to appear on tv, including making up some eye witness stories.

8. We all go to and leave work at the same time. Are daily buying cheap bank financed second-hand cars as if they were lollipops, cars which we would be driving on roads designed for our ancestors in the so last century. We have no regard at all for traffic rules and we drive as if only a six figure speed will save our lives. Then we spend the whole day bitching about traffic jam.

9. We live a lifestyle we can hardly afford, just because we want to impress our friends and relatives. Our expenditure is thrice our income, as a result we are perpetual broke and in debt. We owe everyone money, from our chamas (saving groups), the church, the bank, relatives, parents, our boss, the watchman, the neighbour, the neighbour's children, strangers, our children, the housemaid, the shopkeeper. 

10. Weaves is the national hairstyle for our women. Almost everyone has one of them. If you don't have one, then you don't know beauty and style.  

11. We will call raunchy radio stations every morning and share with the whole world how our spouses are not good in bed, don't know how to cook, are cheating on us and so on. Of course we forget that actually no ones gives a damn other than finding our story very entertaining and good for attracting listeners.

12. We like quick get-rich schemes. From the pyramid scheme to quail farming and to buying a plot near a 'by-pass', name them, we have all tried. 

feel free to add to the list...

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Life is too short, I don't have time to be unhappy

Last month I was in Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates and I shared a lift with a joyful lady in the hotel I was staying in. She was noticeable happy, and was listening to music on her phone through her earphones and kept nodding her head without any care in the world. She had momentarily realized that we were all starring at her and what she said next has stuck with me ever since. Human beings are very stupid, she said to the astonishment of everyone. People life is short, you only live once, enjoy life, laugh, smile, be happy, she said as the lift stopped and she headed her way.

Okay, let me get this out of the way. We would all die, someday. It may be soon or later, but the reality is - we would all die. These thoughts drove me to begin researching about the life span expectancy of human beings and ooh boy! What I found out was quite a revelation. In my quest to enquire about how long we are to live on earth, I stumbled upon an interesting website that outlines a life chart statistic of the average life span of human beings in different countries. According to the website, the individual's average life expectancy is determined by in-country public health, medical care, poverty, diet, gender, mental health, family history, climate among other factors.

For instance, in my country Kenya, the overall life expectancy is an average of 54.1 years, which accounts for 53.0 years for men and 55.2 years for women. So basically if you roughly use this as a benchmark and approximate the years you have got to live, trust me you realize that some of us have got not much time left. So, why I am sharing this with you, you probably are wondering. First, I have no intention of scaring anyone, or trying to turn this into an ideological debate about life expectancy, religion or the like. My point is simply this – life is too short for us to be unhappy. Like my lift lady, lets purpose to enjoy life, laugh, smile, be happy. You got no time to be unhappy, carry bitterness and resentment in your heart, or worry about things you have no power or control over.

Instead of worrying about tomorrow, which you aren't even sure if you will still be around; why not just enjoy today and the little joys it provides? Well, as for me I have purposed today and for the rest of my life to do the following four things:

1. I may not have everything I need or want, but I choose to enjoy life in little ways. Ever wondered why human beings are so engrossed in chasing their dreams, careers and money to the expense of their own happiness, health, family and relationships? I mean, by the end of it all is it worth having all the riches but lack in happiness? Life has taught me to make the most important things in life be the most important things. As it is now and for the rest of my life, I choose to be happy. I may not have everything and probably I will never have everything I need or want, so why be unhappy? Why worry about what I can never have? I choose to enjoy life in little ways. I choose to smile. I choose to laugh. You got to love Jesus words in Matthew 6:25-34. 

2. Life is about finding that one special person whom you share your world with. For me life is about sharing your world (read dreams, fears, happiness, sorrow and hope) with a special person in your life. It’s about enjoying each other's company, supporting one another, being there for each other and loving one another genuinely and maturely. Life is about loving your neighbour as you love yourself. It’s about being nice to people, being considerate, polite, understanding and supportive. Life is about being committed, faithful and loving unconditionally that one special person in your life. 

3. Enjoying life's little moments. Someone once said that today is equally the youngest and the oldest you will ever be. Once today is gone, you will never have it back, you will never have another chance to relive this day. So, why spend a very special and unique day in your life being unhappy? As for me, I choose to enjoy life's little moments. I will travel the world while I can. I will work smart at work, I will save my money, I will invest and all that. However, at the same time, I will have fun; I will spend my money wisely on me and on the people who matter to me. I don't have to be super stingy. I will live life. I will enjoy the simple things in life knowing that I am blessed and lucky to just be alive this day.  

4. I don't have time to worry about who doesn't like me. I'm too busy loving the people who love me. Life has taught me that you can't please everyone, and sure enough you can't be a friend to everyone. So, why waste the short years you have on earth worrying about who doesn't like you? Sweetheart, life is too short, I don't have time to be unhappy.

Life is too short, I don't have time to be unhappy - check out the photo gallery.

Monday, 7 April 2014

Life is too short, I don't have time to be unhappy

I may not have everything I need or want, but I choose to enjoy life in little ways.
Life is about finding that one special person whom you share your world with.
Enjoying life's little moments. Time for extreme make-over courtesy of Lizzy Collections.
I don't have time to worry about who doesn't like me. I'm too busy loving the people who love me.

Saturday, 5 April 2014

The evils that women do in Dubai - The Conclusion

After the drama with Lucas, the odiero, I met Cindy the following day together with her girlfriends for a drink at some Italian pub in downtown Dubai. She had insisted that I meet her friends and since I had nothing better to do other than stare at my Facebook page, I was down for whatever.

The Italian pub oozed with glamour and elegance, thanks to the detailed and expensive interior design. Our waiter Raju, a skinny tall Indonesian immigrant was at our service. And just for the record, from the way he kept slapping me with little generous blow job smiles, I honestly suspected he was gay. Well, not that I cared anyway.

Cindy had shown up with her entourage of girlfriends, you would be mistaken to think they were attending a workshop or competition on fashion. There was Kiki, Noon, Lohan… okay, those are the only names I could remember, and rightly so. Because Kiki was wearing so much perfume, all she could do was smell herself. Whereas Noon’s scanty dress was too colourful, I swear it could either cure cancer or hurt my grandmother’s feelings. Lohan’s skirt on the other hand was three inches below her waist, lest it covered her light-skin thighs when she sits down. And with her chubby size, she appeared poorly dressed that looking at her exposed fatty skin I almost became a vegetarian.

The other four, with all fairness looked like a bunch of idle Venezuelan housewives, with no aspirations and no expectations beyond drinking Margarita cocktail, smoking shisha and gossiping about their many boyfriends. They also seemed to have two volumes in their mouth – loud and louder. Nevertheless, standing up among the rest was Kiki and Lohan.

Kiki looked like a backup singer in some small-time backstreet band in downtown Dar-es-Salaam. Curiously, she seemed to have undergone some sort of skin bleaching and somewhat appeared to be getting lighter-skin by the minute. It was as if someone tried to microwave her face – and almost succeeded. As she spoke, with all fairness she sounded like a pompous, narcissistic, self-centered person. Annoyingly she kept laughing at her own jokes with a loud raucous prostitute-like laughter, and for a moment I wanted to ask her why she was laughing at her own dry jokes. However looking at her, I came to the quick realization of why the gods created darkness and equally invented colourful weaves which had been perched on her head as if it was a Cambodian hat.

Lohan, surprisingly looked at me as if I was a psychopath who was going to abduct her, then rape her and harvest her boobs and sell them to some semi-naked witch in Nigeria. The combination of her personality was lethal. She had a bad temper and a horrible mouth. She was wearing fake second-hand imported shoes, which in her drunkardness she claimed were made either out of Justin Timberlake or Christiano Ronaldo. She secretly kept googling my ass, though I was quick to ignore her eye’s unnecessary intrusion. She wore a dress that said a free Samsung S4 is all it would take to oil her cleavage. Unfortunately for her though, she didn’t have a filter between her brain and mouth. It was actually quite interesting to hear the quality of ignorance in her voice.

And if I thought it wouldn’t get any worse, well it did. We were joined by Stacy, a slender pretty thing carrying an irritating personality. Born and brought up in the slopes of Mount Kenya in Central Kenya, Stacy has lived in Dubai ever since Christopher Columbus discovered America. She joyfully, yet ridiculously introduced herself to me, all the while attempting unsuccessfully to indulge me in her silly cheap laughter. I tried to smile ingratiatingly, only succeeding to look foolish. Within minutes of meeting her, I had quickly deciphered that she liked getting laid by old loaded white men; she was a lonely single mother, and she liked her sex served rough. I tell you Margarita has a way of making some people talk.

As for Cindy, she was dressed in low-cut black squired top and high waisted blue jeans, which gave her the appearance of Michelle Obama from the waist up and a real housewife from the remote rural Kenya from the waist down. Listening to this ladies compete to charter like Mexican sparrows, with all fairness, most of them reasoned like a 3 year old who thinks he is better off without parents. Or like a 14 year old who thinks he is ready for marriage just because he had a wet dream. These damsels, to say the least, were refreshingly boring and loudly irritating. In addition, they looked abrasive, pernicious, restless and self-absorbed.

Frankly speaking, to me these ladies were simply a bunch of scantily dressed women clearly with limited beauty and inadequate intelligence and who were desperately trying to live  the high life they could hardly afford. Of course, my objective conclusion was arrived at from the way they giggled as they flashed around their heavily discounted smartphones, glossed lips and swat back their mane of gory weaves. At a closer scrutiny, you could tell that most of them were in perpetual gold-digging sexual mindset, or alcohol abuse and shisha addicted circus called a lifestyle.

What, however, caught my attention, albeit rather sadly hilarious, was how ignorant and shallow-minded most of them were. These so-called independent divas seemed not to know what was going on outside the disco or outside their Facebook pages. Instead of exhibiting a sense of maturity, decorum and class, sadly most of them seemed to be in Dubai with the intention of bagging an old rugged white man, and eventually be exported to some European country. Consequently, most of them were sheepishly trying to portray this silk urban, suave, sophisticated talk and lifestyle as if their life was based on a script of some happily-ever after Canadian movie.

As they self-indulged in bitter waters, puffing trains of smoke and cheap talk about men, I was quickly made to conclude that something about the way these ladies carried themselves didn’t look real. Either they had issues. Serious issues with their self-esteem, and were to a great extent trying to compensate for that by disowning their African names, dressing like paper-girls in music videos and pretending not to come from Africa.  Sadly too, most of them seem not to know how to dress for any occasion. For a good blessed humble Saturday night, some of them were dressed like strippers reporting for work, while others were dressed as if they were attending an uncle’s funeral. Others were dressed as if they didn’t have enough money to buy the full dress, while still others were dressed as if they were going for an interview in a corporate multinational.

Lucky for me though, my baby and the love of my life (the ultimate reason I was in Dubai in the first place) was getting from work at midnight and we were to meet for a late romantic dinner. Well, that’s how I parted ways with Cindy and her entourage, to the loud displeasure of Kiki who had made it crystal clear that she was ready and willing to play with my night stick at her humble abode. Carrying her microwaved face she had come after me at the exit. She had astonishingly asked why I was leaving so soon. Well, I got to go. There's a lot of porn piling up on the internet, and as you know, it doesn't download itself, came my sharp arrogant reply before I melted into the streets. 

the conclusion.