Vacationing in the North - Part 1

“…fasten your seat belts…we’ll be landing at Bole International Airport in ten minutes. The weather…” The pilot’s voice authoritatively interrupts Of Monsters and Men’s ‘Little Talks’ that is playing through the plane’s headsets. I make a mental note ‘It was about time anyway’. Let’s agree, the only good moments in a plane ride are takeoff and landing, no? Between the two it's not exactly interesting especially with occasional turbulence and you being seated next to a girl and wishing the Lebanese man who just walked past you heading to the WC had booked her seat! However, I do think my mission in this life (read as sex department) will be complete when I take it over 30 thousand feet high! One of you opined to me last week that his friend has wanked that high. I was like really? That I can do under my warm Maasai shuka effortlessly. I mean if it has been done in the back pew of a cinema hall... Look at it this way, if Olivia Pope can get some presidential quickie on the table at the Oval office, a pretty boy is allowed to dream right?

******

Behind The Scenes

Last week after I left C.D.R, while making my way home, I had a very interesting encounter with a man who’s just walked out of his seven year marriage. He was a stranger seated next to me in the bus and just started a conversation on how his wife has never appreciated his efforts, his parents and neighbours warning him umpteenth times etc. He even showed me texts she has sent and his reply to her post the breakup separation. It got very personal at some point. He said that he had discarded some stock of condoms and family planning pills and when the lady found them in a dustbin asked him how did he dare do that when she may be using them with someone else? Poor thing. I patiently listened and only asked him about his kids. One other thing I asked him is whether he’s happy about the decision and he said he’s not guilty and feels more at peace. In addition to time heals, I told him that the fact he's happy about the decision is the most important thing in life. The guy who had a wedding ring on and seated on my left gave me those questioning looks meant to say I'm giving bad advice. I ignored him. In shrink school they teach you one thing; you can never offer a solution to anyone’s problems. People actually have solutions to their own problems and the decisions they make sometimes just need a neutral party to second or affirm them. Of course I didn’t tell him that maybe he ought to try men when he told me that among other things women are evil. After I alighted and wished him well, it got me thinking. As early as 14 or 15, I’m the one person who used to say that I’ll not marry. I was judged as naive and still growing. Now as 25 beckons, I don’t even lose sleep over the thought of marriage even as my classmates arrange for wedding committee meetings that I graciously attend. It is such encounters/little fates with strangers that affirm my conviction. What’s the deal with people and societal expectations anyway?

******

The Airport is located amid hills and just happens to you! When you are actually expecting the plane to descend, it  rapidly ascends and in a short while it occurs to you that you are already on the runway. My friend Jamleck who gate crashed this trip informs me that Ethiopian pilots are among the best in the world. I am still trying to figure out what influenced that conclusion. I request the taxi driver to make a stopover at Awash International bank (that was reliably suggested to me by a friend) for me to exchange my currency into the Ethiopian Birr. Good thing about their money is that it’s not centered on an individual but rather the people. Coffee is offered by the gentleman I was advised to meet. I seek clarification on whether it's the bank's practice or his own offer. He says it's the latter. My inner princess twirls imitating a teenage girl who's making it difficult for his childhood crush to take her out on prom! 

After checking in for the fortnight stay and resting a bit at my guest house, Jamleck (who’d arrived earlier) and I decide to take an evening walk to a nearby Mall. It’s a very wet afternoon with drizzles. As we walk along Bole Medhane Alem Road, there’s a middle aged man walking a few meters in front of us and a lady walking towards our direction. The man almost hits a street lamp pole as he checks out the lady. I think he was checking out her booty. I laugh and tell Jamleck that the guy is so straight beyond help. The guy is at a standstill as the lady (who’s clearly not noticed him) sashays away. He sees us and introduces himself. “I’m Petros, I saw you earlier at the guest house” He says. We inform him we are heading to the mall. He offers to take us to a cultural tryst just en route the mall. He even supplies that we may meet beautiful women to marry or even take back to Kenya. We roll our eyes.  

We reluctantly agree as it’s our first day here. We walk into a largely residential woreda (suburb) and reach a black painted gate. It’s next to a chancery though. Once inside the compound we follow the path to the residence blaring some music and giggles. We walk into a living room full of skimpily dressed beauties and are offered a seat in the almost wearing out leather couches. I sit near the door. I study my surroundings and the colored women paraded in front of me. It all becomes clear: it’s my first time in a brothel, the Fuck? 

 To be continued…

Jamleck steps out of the black Chevy cab. He smiles broadly to the driver who is kind enough to open for him the car door. As soon as the cab zooms past him he opens his Spartacus Guide and grins. He’s finally on 639 New York Ave Northwest, Washington, D.C. He enters the dimly lit watering hole that conspicuously consists of only white men. He gets a considerable number of stares as he makes his way to the counter. He hands a $5 note for an order of a glass of lemonade as he surveys the crowd; he notices he’s the only black guy in the room. The robust bartender in a tight leather half coat that exposes the tattoos on his developed biceps places a glass of fresh lemonade in front of him displaying a judgmental look. When he refunds the change to Jamleck, the same is short of $1.25. Jamleck raises the discrepancy in his change and the bartender gets rude. The nearby patrons who were chatting go quiet as they follow the argument. 

Jamleck maintains his position even as almost the entire bar goes quiet. He rises up looking at his watch and the coins on his hand. “You know what? You can keep them!” He sententiously tells the surprised bartender as he throws the coins from his hand making them sprawl across the counter. He turns to make his way out. He gets whistles from the crowd as he struts across the bar where anyone blocking the exit way has moved.

To be continued…

Cole

Jaw Drops; A Curtailed Festival & Little Fates...

C.D.R Quote of the Week

“There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people.” ― Howard Zinn

A beam of rays penetrates across the thin window with curtains made out of Maasai fabric, making me wake up. I look at the time and notice it’s 10 a.m. The strange man next to me is still having forty winks. I met him at the Theater last evening. It was a very wet evening and for those of you who live in Nairobi and definitely appreciate we are solar powered know how getting around can be a handful in such weather. He offered a quick fast food excuse of dinner and a place to crash. Please don’t look at me like that, I just never sleep outside my house. Stripping me naked was an effort and there were those few agonizing attempts at making out. Hormones may be in cloud nine but he wasn’t going to park in my boner garage.

*******

Behind The Scenes

1. Last week I visited the Nairobi Trade Fair after almost 17 years. I did have an opportunity to be among the adjudicators in a dance contest. So this 12 year old little girl in very tight grey pants joins the other competitors (mostly high school kids) at the dais and in a short time jaws were dropping, men were drooling and some women had bowed their heads in shame. The things the little thing was doing with her waist and undersized ass? Lord Have Mercy! *Does the catholic Trinity sign* Can you imagine she even did a 180 and heavily shook her small bumps against the floor! I Know Right? The DJ had to stop the music briefly and one of the lady adjudicators summoned her to our table. She couldn’t win because that would mean we encourage girls to be the next Miley Cyruses by twerking their undersized junks around. I asked her what she wants to be when she grows up. She opined she wants to be a model. She even said that her parents know her ‘talent’. That is sure going to be a fine burlesque artiste in the future methinks. Miley, see what you do to our girls? Kamal has since advised me to get with the program and accept we are raising an MTV generation. I looked at that girl strutting her stuff and thought of my future daughter Taitu. If these are the things she’ll be doing in future then we have a problem. She just has to live up to the standards of the butch she’ll be named after. No two ways about it! 

2. Sh*t just got real. I’m turning 25 next month, yikes! My age will soon be embargoed and efforts will be initiated to locate the Sages of Sivana. I’m concerned I’m aging. I make a decent and honest living; I have opportunities to mingle with authorities on various areas, my weight is now constant with a body that lacks a beer gut, I don’t mean to blow my own dic trumpet but I’m not exactly bad looking. All these MINUS a husband! The few men I was so optimistic about either turned up for a dinner date in an Arsenal T- shirt or while trying to slice a piece of sausage asked me what’s the size of my d*ck! I think I need to buy a heifer and try my hand at farming. Speak the tongue of dam, sire, calving date, hay, and Napier grass…the works. Honestly, what does one do from 25 or as Chaje corrects me, a quarter century? 

3. Please get your dic…oops lexicon. I was reading a decision last night on a case that a UK Court ruled upon in the early nineties on a bunch of gay homosexual men who willingly and enthusiastically participated in the commission of acts of violence against each other for the sexual pleasure it engendered in the giving or receiving of pain. They were convicted for sadomasochistic acts. It made me remember something. Speaking of peculiar perversions, since when did peeing on someone become a turn on? I am still reeling from that dreadful radio phone call I went through while on a bus heading home a fortnight or so ago. This lady calls and apparently wants his ex to be busted by the radio host for going MIA. The nefarious details coming from the speakers in a very quiet bus where everybody’s head was hanging either in guilty pleasure or shame! At some point the driver even switched channels upon a prompt from some lady passenger. Thankfully, I had my headphones. I just couldn’t afford to miss details. Don’t they say information is empowerment? Let me just say that in as much as I love men, there are some things I’ll never do with them. I shall not be responsible for any injury caused to your person just because you thought pee works for me. *Flicks hair* I’m still doing further research though. I’m sure there are some very resourceful acts people have to spice up the bedroom. Whatever happened to positions! The lady has since moved to being a cougar and confessed that the young men she goes down with love the peeing thing??

*******

After my Master class moderated by Bikozulu on Friday at the Hay Festival, I decided to get back to the office to drop my season pass and the brochure. I would pick them the following day as I would anyway be heading for day two of the festival. The problem with sleeping in a man’s crib is that your entire schedule tends to get altered. If it’s a one night stand it’s a different story as you just need to wake up very early when the sun is still rising to avoid the walk of shame. Drama only happens when you run into a colleague who saw you the previous day as you’ll still have the same clothes on. Woe unto you if you meet a fellow zega man who saw you the previous day considering ours is a community where fashionable clothes are a basic need! I make my way to the kitchen to boil me some black coffee. He soon joins me in his boxers probably after sensing my problem getting the shower running. I notice his chest hair running down the length of his sternum but soon get my eyes off that trip. I never saw these last night. Well it was dark bitch! My conscience castigates. Who among you switches off their lights during sex? It’s really intriguing that one can still have sex during the day without drawing the curtains. I don’t think it’s really about light. I think it goes deeper. 

Moving on swiftly; Soon after the shower and a rushed bye I give him a hug and excuse myself. He’s not really impressed and thanks me for making him miss a meeting. Men! He has since asked me to move in with him (after one date). I’m still processing the offer. The Fuck! Once I’m in the vehicle, I look at the time and realize banks close at midday and I need to urgently get some paper but I’m already late. An idea soon strikes me that the Westgate branch is always open until late afternoon on Saturdays. I decide to postpone the bank duty to 2P.M which according to the Hay Festival’s program conveniently fell after Teju Cole in conversation with John Sibi Okumu and Chief Nyamweya’s Comics Take over the World (He signed my copy of Roba comic) session so the one hour between them would be sufficient for me to go banking and still catch Chief’s session. I make it to the city centre to pick my pass and program so as to make it to the festival at the National Museum. As John Sibi winds up his session with a very engaging Q & A session, a lady poses a question citing ‘what has just happened…’ The Caucasian lady seated next to me confirms that there is an incident at the mall. We are accordingly advised to avoid the area as it’s not safe. 

As soon as the session was over and I’d stepped out of Louis Leakey Auditorium the number of helicopters flying the airspace was quite a sight! My wingman Jamleck soon sends me a text to confirm my safety. I engage him further as I can’t immediately locate a TV screen. 

Of course we all know how the story ends. The Hay Festival was cancelled in the evening. I hope the one day we season ticket holders had is considered in next year’s event. No regrets though. After taking a walk at the museum’s lush woods to mentally absorb the unfolding events and asking myself a series of What if’s I decide to get some coffee from the Dorman’s coffee stand at the festival where I run into a sublime prolific blogger and poet who’s more than excited to meet me in person. Pleasure meeting you too Eudiah; will definitely give you a ring before this week ends! 

While making my way to Discovery Hall to catch the screening of Wanjiru Kairu’s New Year’s Eve, I also run into the usually boisterous writer Binyavanga Wainaina. I smile back at him. He probably does that to everyone. Wonder where he’s hurrying to. I’m soon distracted by sexologist Ms. Gertrude Mungai (Her of the Mombasa Raha fame - she taught us sex positions on Live TV!) and almost collide with a very tired Lucie, one of the organizers of the event who I’d been in touch with and appreciate her efforts. She’s charmed.

After the screening I decide to excuse myself from the festival besides all subsequent activities have been cancelled. The mood is somber. It’s getting dark and I have to catch a dinner tryst with JK and his beau and retire home to pack my clothes as I have a work trip out of town the following day. I can still hear the helicopters. I have never yearned for a TV screen that much. ‘Collins!’ I hear a familiar voice calling me as soon as I get to the city centre. I notice it’s the gentleman I was with earlier. He’s all dressed to marry the night. ‘‘I’ve been trying to reach you the whole afternoon.” He says as he tips my chin from side to side. I don’t even feel embarrassed. I explain to him my communication predicament and how I nearly visited the ill fated mall. He breaths a sign of relief and tells me he’s waiting for one of the friend’s we’d talked about last night to take to a strip club in a dingy downtown part of the city centre. He releases me to go for my dinner with friends and promises to call me later in the evening.

My phone only had only one bar of power before I'd switched it off. I switch it on and it buzzes with all manner of messages finally getting through. I call back the senior of the Mutahi brothers and inform him I’m safe. He’s a chatter box so I was sure he’d inform everyone else I was okay until I could get sufficient power to call them back. But their worries and concern were apparent. The moment I got to a TV screen and saw the unfolding events, my heart was disturbed. Very perturbed. The gory images were not pleasing and when I finally got home after a rather tiring and/or equally disturbing day, I honestly couldn't get any sleep until it was over. Indeed it was a very dark day for my country. 

Little Fates

Fate  /fāt/

Noun: The development of events outside a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.

Verb: Be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way: "it was fated to end badly

Synonyms:

noun.  Destiny - lot - doom - fortune - kismet - portion

verb. Destine - preordain - ordain

While packing my suitcase I thought of how short life is. How cruel acts of violence rob us of loved ones, friends and foes alike. Then I thought of little fates. Fates don’t pay attention to who we are. Whether you are as popular as fuck, your religion,creed or belief system, age, race, nationality, sexual orientation, title et al notwithstanding, when fate seals, the rest of us have to warm up to it. C’est la vie. 

The guns have stopped firing; the thick billows of smoke have faded into the sky beyond; the first roses in the wreath we placed in our loved ones, friends’ and even heroes’ last resting places have withered. Jacaranda trees are blooming; brave new heroes like the gorgeous Abdul have been installed. In the same breath you hear of administration of a gubernatorial slap, a senator uttering profanities to a radio host on national radio and the county’s women representative nude pictures surfacing online making you start questioning the quality of our leaders. I haven’t seen the pictures and hope not to see them. It's like seeing my mother naked. The thought is just abominable. How are her sons and family handling it? We may be talking of looting of the mall by the security forces, we may be challenging competence of our security bosses but my Aha moment is still that Sunday morning when I passed by the Kencom bust station and just the number of Kenyans (from diverse backgrounds) who'd turned up to donate blood that chilly morning was enough to for my wounded soul! Never have I felt such a vestige of patriotism despite my not being able to participate in that arduous national calling. That’s what little fates are about. 

 When turbulence rocks you over thirty thousand feet as you enter the Kenyan airspace, you survey the craters and dry land below with the rays of sunshine lighting up your face then you know that you are at a better place as compared to anyone down there. When you ‘accidentally’ end up at a brothel off Bole Medhane Alem Road on your first day in a country that boasts of fine folk, then you realize that home probably has a more palatable definition of fine folk. Fate is standing on my bedroom window watching the spectacular fireworks in the sky above the trade fair on a Tuesday night; when the road bike becomes a burden taking out for a ride due to the arduous task of taking it up the flight of stairs in a five storey building; when a man you haven’t talked to for two years calls just to confirm you are fine. Fate has a way of upsetting the status quo and unifying us all.

Next week on C.D.R

A first time curious Kenyan zega in the Washington District of Columbia…

Cole while penning an open letter to his Habesha friends (in the beginning of a two - part series on Addis Ababa), takes the rest of you to ‘Red Terror’ memorial Museum. If you have a weak stomach, you may need kerchiefs.

Cole

Gentlemen, the bar has been set!

White Rabbit! That is a phrase one utters when a new month commences. Then you are assured of good luck throughout the duration of that month. I did it shortly after mid night as September sashayed away and let me just say my name being mentioned on the morning radio Breakfast Show with a lady I religiously admire just because of a humorous traffic update I sent set the bar for October.

September had its fair share of intrigues. It was great being out of the country for a substantive part of that month. Lord Have Mercy, the things I experienced! *Fans himself*. Okay, unclench, it was just some space I needed to go rethink and reinvent my inane life. No foreign d!ck went on and I messed up our only chance of seeing some Northern wee wee in the WC that Jamleck (my best friend in the scene) had struggled so hard for us to be offered in his alleged research on Habesha circumcision inquiries. Further, how he’s not in prison for publicly ogling at FINE men in the streets of a foreign country is still beyond me. Maybe that was the idea. C.D.R (formerly T.S.R) will tackle this and more in a three part series that will run in the course this month.

Topped from any position?

Arsenal fans have been ridiculing the champions just because the odds have been in their favour recently. In fact, one of you texted me saying that the moment Sir Alex left, Man U allowed itself to be topped from any position. Well he’s a gunner. A versatile one, so he says. I think he was horny at the time but I’m still trying to figure out the best way to respond to him because using my thumb theory, he falls short of the gunner threshold. C’mon we’ve all held bigger Bic lighters before right?

The bar has been set

I’ll confess I’m a fanatic of the Klaine movement. Fans (and haters alike) of the American series Glee kind of get my drift based on the recent developments. Congratulations Ryan Murphy. You just made it thorny for some men to ever get into monogamy! If you are a zega man and believe in love and such other pursuits, I hate to break it to you. The scale has just been tipped. I can’t wait for the last article this month where I’ll give you some dossier on some alien men. When you have a moment, do play this clip. I’ve equally endeavored to transcribe a verbatim of it for you just below it of course with some very minor editing to suit my purposes:

Blaine: We met right here. I took this man’s hand and we ran down that hallway. And for those of you that know me. I’m not in the habit of taking hands of people I’ve never met before but I think that my soul knew something that my mind and body didn’t know yet. It knew that our hands were meant to hold each other, fearlessly and forever; which is why it’s never really felt like I’ve been getting to know you, it’s always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if in every lifetime that you and I have lived, we’ve chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again, over and over for eternity. And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime because all I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do is spend my life loving you. So Kurt Hummel Cole, my amazing friend, my one true love, will you marry me?

Me: #iDie

Any men who can beat that? *Looks around* I didn’t think so. I'll see you on Tuesday, kisses!

Cole.