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I will be the one…you miss

I recently re-connected with an old acquaintance who has been unhappily married for over 15 years. They have been to psychologists, relationship councilors,trips to Rome, Paris, New York. Trips to the sea side to resolve their differences.

They have even been to a divorce lawyer and then backed out of the divorce.

There has been abuse, both verbal and physical.

Still they hold on. Which I find admirable. And yet…

20180225_123421[1]I did ask my old friend: “isn’t it over? Shouldn’t you be over by now?”

She has spoken about this relationship for ever. When I wish we could speak about our dreams and plans for the future, she speaks about this doomed broken-glasspieces-on-floor relationship.

It drains the energy out of everything.

It kills the inspiration that could change the world.

And I said, unwisely:

When it ends – a job, a relationship, a friendship etc, there is a little madness, self-preservation, self-sabotage, megalomania and even recklessness when you say:

“I will be the one you miss. The one you don’t forget. When you are 70 years old, going through your life, and re-running through the decisions you have made, I will be the one you miss.”

There is also self-love, self-respect and a healthy core deep inside when you can say:

“You will look back at your life and ache for my laughter, my energy, my warmth, my coldness, my hysteric overreactions, my silences, my horrible singing voice, my dry hair all over the place, my tired red eyes.

One day, quite unexpectedly, you will long for Me.

But, it will be too late, when you find out what you have lost.”

It may not be true, but try it! When you find yourself in the wrong job, relationship, friendship etc try telling yourself that you deserve something good.

Something energizing.

Something supportive.

Something reliable.

Or whatever it is that makes you inspired to live a fulfilling life.

Because there must be something better out there for you! Don’t you think?

Maybe, that something out there is YOU

The light at the end of the tunnel is YOU!
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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.

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 then 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, plastered 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….


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 me 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.


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Love Is…Circular Conversations – Happy New Year 2018! May the Light be with You!

candle light
The Dramatic Light

They start so innocently and with no insidious intention.

Knatte: “Did you turn off the lights?”

Fnatte: “Yes, except the hall light because you were still up.”

Knatte: “Don’t use me as an excuse. You forgot the light on, again…!”

Fnatte: “Why don’t you just turn it off? Its on your way to the bathroom…!”

Knatte: “Because you have to learn to turn off the lights.”

Fnatte: “Can’t you just turn the light off without making the biggest fuss about it?”

Knatte: “Noooo, because then you will never learn!”

Fnatte: “But…it is not such a big dea…”

light on
Now You see me…

Rudely interrupted.

Knatte: “Of course it is! Imagine if you forgot a candle! One day, you will kill us in our slee…”

Rude interrupt back.

Fnatte: “In these xx years, I have never forgotten a candle on. Why would I forget it now?”

Knatte: “hehehe, I love you, but anything could happen with you! It’s as though you have dementia or something. Remember when….”

Rudely interrupted.

Fnatte: “Please don’t drag the past into this!”

Knatte: “But it is relevant! Last year, after the new year party, you forgot the kitchen ligh…”

Even more rudely interrupted.

Fnatte: “We had been drinking! You forgot it too!”

Knatte: “Oh, so now you are turning it round on me? Typical!”

Fnatte: “Please shut up and let me sleep!”

Silence. For like 3½ minutes while Knatte brushes the teeth.

light out
Now You don’t…

Knatte: “I can’t imagine how it will be like when you get dementia or Alzheimers”

Fnatte: “Oh, not to worry darling. That will be fun! Whatever I have, you will catch it too! We will just walk around turning the lights on and off and then arguing about it!”

Knatte: “Oh, so you will get old with me, then?”

Fnatte sighs heavily.

Fnatte: “Come to sleep! Did you turn the lights out?”

Knatte: “Please don’t start that again! I am very tired…”

Knatte snoring.

Fnatte: “I did not start anything…”

Happy new Year! May the Light be with You!



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In Sickness & Health – Tills Summer Comes Back

Yesterday and today, I am home sick. Coughing my eyes out, blowing my tonsils out through the nose and damaging my vocal cords with all the throat clearing and swallowing of the phlegm. My singing career is shelved. Half of Stockholm is home sick with some virus or other. Bacteria maybe?

I am no good at being sick. Today, the 2nd day of my illness, I went to the doctor. Google. Fortunately, it is not throat or chest cancer as I feared. Or any other mortal malady for that matter.

I chose the most lenient of diagnoses: A regular cold with an itchy throat.

  • runny or stuffy nose
  • sinus pressure
  • itchy eyes and skin
  • sneezing
  • tiredness
  • swollen, red, or watery eyes

I am not a beauty to reckon with, but this brings another level of un-beautiful to my days. Runny & stuffy nose looks disgusting in the morning, whitish or yellowish/greenish googoo dried up. Sinus Pressure means I can’t breath when I wake up, so I open my mouth like a fish and make sounds that could send any love away. Even this great love. It’s that sound from behind the nose. Ghighighighiiighi. Please add the mucousy/liquid sound to this and spit. As soon as I make that sound, I throw up. The mucus I swallowed through the night, the phlegm stored behind the eyes and the lemon & ginger water with honey that I have been gurgling down as home remedy.

Itchy eyes and skin means itchy scalp, eyes, face, underarm, dry itchy nose, back pain from lying down too long in the sofa. Sneezing can end any which way, missiles unintentionally flying from the throat to the window where the bird shit from the summer is stuck from the outside. I haven’t got to cleaning yet. Or it can end with me exhausted, in utter tiredness in the sofa with my hurting back, un-showered itchy bits, Afro in all directions, eyes running with tears of self pity, red with lack of sleep due to the coughing and swollen from the scratching.

It is hell.

What do I do to fix things?

20171030_135141I fix the kitchen. The corner cupboard arrived on Saturday, empty. Who spends their days devising ways to drive me nuts? I can fill it up with crap, but maybe I need to buy the crap? I walked out the door without showering, took a hat to my head, thank heavens for winter! I went shopping to ease my pain and catch some sunshine. Its a farce!

Winter is Back. winter is here

The sun sets at 16:45 & the darkness begins at 16:50. The sun rises (It is there somewhere behind the darkness I suppose) at 8:45 & the rain never stops. The night is at Minus-degrees Celsius.

So I bought a Phillips Light therapy apparatus.

20171031_163522This is not a commercial. I am not paid to sell anything. Well, except I pay myself handsomely to sell myself. I am good at data handling. I am good at communication. I am a kick-ass team lead. I suck at the painstaking crap/empty-talk so I need to learn that. I am worse than doctors when I am sick. I impulse buy crap to comfort myself. I keep the receipts so I can return the crap when I am better. Shopkeepers that know me, hate me. Thank God for online markets, they don’t know me. Or do they?

This light was an impulse buy. It will make me better. Heal my eyes and my aching back. Make my nose clean in the mornings and handle my flying phlegm after a sneeze. It will stand in our corner cupboard in the kitchen.

I will let you know how that pans out.

While at it, I also bought a computer bag, a nice one because the old one I have isn’t nice – daaaa – designed for a Mac 13. It will fit for my Dell 13. I bought a 12 packet of AA batteries, on sale because a thief had stolen 3 batteries from the packet. That thief wasn’t me. So I bought 9 AA batteries. I don’t know what I need them for. But don’t doubt it, I need them.

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Sounds of the world – Singing Birds

Others sing. The Malians make beautiful music. But then, I am not objective. My Africans roots are deep.

A friend & I had the honor to listen to Nahawa Doumbia at Fasching in Stockholm. IMG_1844[1]

Nahawa is older now; compared to the first time I saw her in Bamako. Her husband still plays beside her, to her left in the picture. And the fantastic instruments from West Africa! I could take them home just for decoration. I cannot play, I can dance to the music.

Has anyone listened to the Rough Guide to Mali collection?

If you haven’t, please listen & let me know what you think.

Lorde’s Melodrama is out and lawd! was it worth the wait?! I have waited. Followed Lorde on Twitter @Lorde. Followed Lorde on Instagram #Lordemusic.

Waiting. Waiting.

I think it is most interesting how we describe sounds. Birds sing. Birds never talk. If I ever said “I walked by the talking birds” or “I was woken by the talking birds”; someone of the loving people near me would shake their heads sympathetically. 

“no dear, birds sing. They. don’t. talk.”  slowly. so I can hear & save. So the crazies won’t take me with them.

My boss would definitely suggest that I take a short break from work to clear the cobwebs from the grey cells.

Lions roar. Fiercely. We should either be:

  1. afraid when a lion roars
  2. impressed and fascinated by the lion’s roar. The sea roars when a storm is coming on.

Otherwise, the calming waves are calm, like calming music.

Hyenas scream. Or laugh.

Horses neigh. Or snort. Or whinny. Even nicker.

But do birds really sing? All of them? All of the time?P1030100

Sometimes it sounds like laughter. Other times, it sounds like a conversation. An answer to a question. Sometimes it sounds like a scream, a loud uncontrolled scream.

When I am in a good mood, and listen to birds on a nice summer day, they sound happy. Each listening to its kind. Each answering to its kind.

Is it possible, that we, who love definitions & categorizations, have defined our sounds; and then allocated them to animals?

So since we like the sounds birds make, we call it singing?

P1020132No one ever says happily to their best friend during the summer “oh! I was woken by the vultures/carrion singing this morning! So beautiful!!” No one. When we speak about vultures, we flinch. But they are beautiful birds, aren’t they, just like hyenas are beautiful animals.

All about birds describes black vultures:

Black Vultures are silent most of the time. They make raspy, drawn-out hissing sounds while feeding and fighting, along with grunting noises that can sound like hungry pigs or dogs barking in the distance.

Courting vultures may give a yapping sound.

Under which circumstances do we use raspy, hissing, hungry pigs, barking dogs?

That’s right folks! disapproving, scared, hating & disliking etc.

Snakes hiss. We are not just afraid of snakes; we hate them. People who make us queazy, who scare us, who we don’t recognize ourselves in – are snaky.

They hiss when they communicate with us.

Cats meow & purr when they are nice, cooperative, satisfied & calm. Not scary.

The same cats hiss when they are angry, scared & unhappy. Scary.

Others sing to us. Sweetly. Silently. Deeply.

Healing us.

Time after time.

Learning to Live a Balanced Life, Life Lessons, Menstruation (Monthlies, Periods, Lingon Berry week or whatever you call it!), Therapy Sessions

My Boobs Hurt

I have been on a bra hunt for over 10 years now. A constant desperate hunt.


There are booklets about bras. Articles about bras. Books. Real books, about bras. Stand Up comedy about bras.

When the boobies first showed up, they hurt. They were perky tits. Pointed breasts. Fantastic.

I swear you could see the nipples from 3 kilometers away.

A late bloomer, my fun balloons showed up at between 15-16 years old. I was skinny; a boobies and bones kind of awkward.

The fun balls needed to be hidden. Concealed from all the neighborhood adolescent boys who were sniffing around. The nuns thought the boys could smell the nipples like the cat can smell a rat hidden in a ditch.

There were many helpers within the secret society of “African Aunts”. All the nuns, aunts, cousins & female friends were committed.

Over 10 years into this journey and the boobs are still one of the reasons I make those grand trips to the malls.

Recently, the pleasure bags hurt every month during the premenstrual days.

There is the far away headache.

There is the far away backache.

There is the moodiness and the claws barely sheathed.

premenstrual him: “love, did you put on the kettle?”

premenstrual Me: “don’t you call me love! it is patronizing! why would I put the kettle on?? because I am a woman??!”

Ovulating me: “yes dear. & the egg is boiling! kiss kiss”

Premenstrual him: “are you having your periods?”

Premenstrual me:screeEEEEeeeeEEEEEeeEEEEEEEK


Premenstrual him: am off to work then! have a nice day. sorry, running late!

There is the huge torch of a pimple in my face. It leaves black mark which leaves me spotted like a giraffe after a few months of pimply periods.

There is the sleepiness. I want to sleep & sleep & sleep & sleep. not the regular 9-10hrs. I want 15-20hrs.

There is the occasional herpes attack. don’t judge me. All of us have Herpes virus in us. You know, the mouth sore when you have the horrible cold? THAT. IS. HERPES!

And then there is the hurting mammary glands. Rubbing my hand/arm on them while performing some other thoughtless result-less activity makes me screech with pain.

So I keep looking. And trying. And fixing. And buying. And reading. And now writing.

bras 3
And the checklists!

I have some favorites in my wardrobe. Nice colors. Beautiful lace.Wonderful cups. Fabrics that would make a queen pine. Silk. Cotton. Straps. Strapless. Brands. Brands whose names cost money without providing MORE support.


Still, during these great days; when the uterus acts out in bloody anger after the realization that; yet again, no baby is going to come out of the poking fun & canoodling that has been going on week after week; every single one of my well selected bras make me grimace in pain.

I come home & before I open the door, I open the bra. And smile. And breath. And smile.

Shall I ever find this wonder bra that keeps them happy and calm through the stormy days?

When do I know I have found the bra?

We bought a bed though. Instead of a bra, we found a good comfy bed.

That should sort the back aches





African Woman, Life Lessons, Therapy Sessions

Teaching Old Dogs New Tricks

I am the old dog in this story.

I never took a Swedish driving license you see. During the late teens & early 20s, I was too broke to shoulder the cost and did not fancy getting into debt. A license costs a shirt, a leg & an arm in Sweden.

Striding strongly into my 30s, I have decided to have a driving instructor do this with me.


I can’t remember when I felt as daft as I have felt while learning to drive. It is like being thrown into a maze for the first time. Drunk.

I have felt daft before, of course. Many a times. Sometimes on a daily basis. Working in an IT department can do that to you. With colleagues who have been at it since before the days Nokia 3310 was the best phone around.

Thinking & talking about some new way of executing some old activity can turn into the most intimidating &/or condescending situations you can imagined.

Looks that say without a word:

oh, dear; little, pretty one. We tried that in 1993 & it did not work. It will not work now either. Didn’t you know that? What do you know then?! Why are you even here? Are you one of the quota group? women in tech or black women in tech? can you get us some coffee & take some notes while we talk?”

A condescending smile follows. You can’t report this crap to HR so don’t even waste energy thinking it.

You see the look. No one else sees the look.

You see the smile. No one else sees the smile.

You hear the tone of voice. No one else hears a pip!

You feel the being ignored. No one else sees your being ignored.

Someone else repeats your words as if they were news coming from Computer Power user or BBC.

Everyone is nodding their experienced smart heads in agreement.

You say in your I am gathering my wits around me voice. In your strong woman voice. In your I know my crap voice.

“Thank you kindly Joe. That is exactly what I was saying.”

Everyone shakes their extended experienced smart heads in consensus.

angrycateyesYou see the pity they feel for your pretty little head. You feel sick.

You get your knickers in a knot against all sense. One way or the other, you play your few angry cards.

All your nice kind helpful knowledgeable experienced colleagues can see the hard knots in your knickers & the angry cards that YOU threw on the table on the floor if you really went for it.

Once again, you are the negative one. The uncooperative one. The angry one.

It is impossible to prove the shit that is happening to you. If none of your fantastic not-angry colleagues acknowledge that they also saw the discreet actions; the discreet actions did not happen.

You are bonkers. You’re on the way to hitting the wall. Being sent off on sick leave.

circulationtrafikStill, me learning to drive made me feel dafter than I have ever felt.

Like running in circles surrounded by rules no one understands, but everyone, seems to live by the same said rules.

And the rules were written by experienced smart heads in total consensus.

You don’t feel me? Try learning the Right of Way rules.