African Woman, How to Live a Lifeless Life and Sustain a Loveless Life, I am not a politician but..., Life Lessons, Love is..., Loves of a Life Time, Mental Health

Love Is…Undeserved Compliments

Hi lovely people! Have you been wondering how to know that the man/woman etc human in your life loves you?!

London show your rump to trumpWell, it is easy. You know that day when you wake up feeling like a sack of rotten potatoes?

No?

Ok. Lucky you!

A crate of rotten eggs then?

You know like the one the lovely British people planned to throw at POTUS a couple of weeks ago?

No? Oh well. Then it just me.

I have these days covered before they even arrive. I have several bad-hair-day scarfs and paraphernalia. I have a hat. I have umbrellas. I have hoodies. I have an afro in braids. There is that fleece that  I only wear when I am feeling like crap. It’s grey and it is sooooo comfy and it smells of laziness, sofa and TV.

20180113_181714Since I am a beehive of activity even on my worst days, I need to throw the rubbish out. On the ground floor. I drag myself from the sofa, take my red coat for a flush of color. My older sister always said that a click of red lipstick, or anything red, on black skin makes you look like sunshine. Even on wintry bad days.

My human says: “WAIT!”

I look around at him ready to pounce.

Me: “What?!” you know, daring him to say something awful.

20180113_181716(0)My human: “You look great! Let me take a photo!”

Me: “Really? Dude? What do you want?”

click. click.

My human: “Look!”

And I do look OK. It is not the end of the world. So I pull myself together and smile at him.

20180113_181704“Take one more photo then!”

I still have an inner child that loves attention and thrives under the gaze of love. But I do this thing when I am very happy that gives me #crazyeyes.

What does it matter when there is one person in the whole wide world that sees something good in me?! Something that looks good even on my worst days.

#YouAreNotCrazy. You are #Passionate.

/Linda

 

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African Woman, Fashion & Style?, Learning to Live a Balanced Life, Mental Health, Self Love, Therapy Sessions

F$£K New Year resolutions!

Hi guys! Hope you are having a nice 2018 so far? For me, it’s the 60th of January 2018, this month never ends! This morning, I did the math of how to survive the coming unbearable THREE days until payday on the 25th. At 08:00am, I had a few Swedish crowns left in the account. At 16:00, I have 0 crowns left and it is still 3 freaking days to go!

It is rocket science.

65th January 2018

In Kenya, this is the week mama mboga – female grocery store owner – sells on credit. 90% everyone of her customers is broke after all the celebrations planned with the purpose of emptying pockets. If mama mboga is feeling cranky, she closes down during this week and rests in wait for end month.

mamamboga
Eat Well – Only, not in January…

Screw the suckers!

Independence day on 12th December comes first and it expects every self respecting Kenyan to celebrate the republic. Then comes Christmas. No words needed, right? By the time the New Year comes, no Kenyan is calling any other Kenyan for any reason whatsoever. There are things you don’t have to pay for – #PleaseCallMe and #PleaseSwishMe. The pain in all Kenyan asses, School fees, is not to be ignored.

As a young Nairobian, I used to move back to my parents’ or siblings’ homes for the whole of January.

In Sweden, my life is upside down and I am an adult not young anymore. So, I cannot move back to anyone’s home. When I did the math this morning, I realized I had a few coins left for my survival and smiled. I then decided quite promptly that I had to go shopping for some cheap food for the coming THREE days. We have a grocery store, not so far away, that usually has some cheap edibles short-dates on Sundays. I never bothered to shower since it is a short walk. I the applied a little lipstick to fool the fools and a winter hat does the trick. I am as dry as a withered thorn-pine in the desert so I took a drop of oil on my palm, the oil running out too, added a little luminator that too is running out! When it rains, it pours! and matched out whistling happily. I was looking fly! Like a million Shillings!

Shopping 60th January 2018Remember I have promised to stop buying useless crap in 2018 so I can save money and be rich? Well, that was rich coming from me! As I turned to go into the grocery store, I saw the 70% off poster on the window of some store. Or 30% sale price. These poster are usually in red, so you couldn’t miss them if you tried. I feel happy because I understand that on the 60th of January, most shopkeepers multinational retailers selling crap know that I have only a few coins left so the sales posters are a way of being nice to….waaiit for it….ME!! I match into every shop that has a sale poster on. I am listening to Adele’s, Make You Feel My Love. There is no other way I can show myself some love on a day like this.

I even bought a Pomelo on sale! Seriously, sod off and f4£k off with all the freaking new year resolutions! I have been shopping! I have new crap! I feel temporarily elated. And don’t you dare give that crap about the elation not lasting! I am perfectly happy with temporary bliss! I have no fresh groceries but who cares?! I can raid the freezer for the next 3 days.

If you are good with the January planning, can I move in with you for a couple of days?

#YouAreNotCrazy. You are #Passionate.

/Linda

African Woman, Learning to Live a Balanced Life, Life Lessons, Loves of a Life Time

Dream Men

Maasai Cricket warriors
Maasai Cricket Warriors by Francois Nel/Getty Images

When I see this picture of black men moving their bodies with ease and control; displaying this capacity Africans have to embrace new things and learning without prestige. learning them without abandoning what they already know. I remember my dream man.

As a young girl growing up in Kenya, I never had a dream wedding, just my dream man. He was black, like the men who brought me up – he was dignified, he was “the silent, strong type”. My father drunk too much, so my dream man did not drink. My father smoked and every hug left me feeling like I was hugging his shadow and the real man, my father was hidden behind the layers of cigarette smoke and alcohol. My future man would not smoke.

He would look like that man swinging the Cricket bat and I would adore him and he would adore me. Maybe, if he was kind, I would even *let* him have a mistress to massage his beautiful ego.

And then I moved to Sweden and my dream expanded in form and content. What a twisted rope life is!

African Woman, I am not a politician but..., I am not a racist but..., Life Lessons

Born, bred and intellectualized in #EastShitHole

ShitholeThe land of many many wonderful people who reared me with confidence, civility, trust and love.

We are here. If colonialism, dehumanization, the slave trades and all the other genius plans in history didn’t kill us off, nothing will. Except the nuclear bomb that will not discriminate the shit holes.

We are here. Live. With. It.

 

 

African Woman, Art & Culture, feminism, Life Lessons, sex

Lady Chatterleys Lover Vs. Kenyan Independence

Lady Chatterley’s Lover was on TV this holiday season, and of course, we watched it. The details are irrelevant except the affirmation that I love the endlessness of the Lady Chatterley and Oliver story. But, every single time I watch or re-read Lady Chatterley’s Lover and get astounded, it is ruined by the context in my head.

The context is:

Lady Chatterley LoverIn 1959-1960, when the Penguin trial was ongoing in Britain, to un-ban D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover that was banned under the Obscene Publications Act 1959; my father was 12 years old and mother was 10. In Kenya, a state of emergency had been ongoing since 1952. Kenyans were rebelling against colonialism. In 1959, a good number of Kenyans, both men and women,  were tortured, raped, humiliated and murdered. In one such camp, Hola camp, the deaths of over ten detainees kicked the already rolling ball of freedom.

You will now think that I should have forgotten about colonialism and be able to enjoy a good story, dramatized as love. Well, I don’t go around thinking about colonialism. I go around thinking about freedom. The freedom to do whatever the heck I want. And in 1959, when the Great Britain was banning books that described sex, my grandmother assured me that she was still having the wild romp in the wild. Although it was banned as wild, primitive and unnatural by the masters of the world.

My grandmother was married to Rubeni since she was fifteen. Or, rightly said, they were partners for life. Their marriage was not a documented matter. Nor was it a Imprisoned by Societal Expectations kind of marriage. In Kenya, in 1959, marriage was a Together for Survival kind of agreement. Scratch my back, I scratch yours. I may love you, I may not love you, but if I respect you and we are headed in the same direction – I will loyally walk beside you. The religion and law of one God and one partner for life, came with the masters of the world.

So, every time I see Lady Chatterley’s Lover, the contradicting thought in my head is how a society can be fighting for a freedom for themselves, that is already a freedom elsewhere; a freedom that they call primitive, unnatural and wild when exercised by others, but a freedom they want for themselves nevertheless.