Is this Kenya's definition of 'coalition'?

In the dictionary, the word is listed as follows;

co·a·li·tion (k-lshn)

n.

1. An alliance, especially a temporary one, of people, factions, parties, or nations.

2. A combination into one body; a union.

I'm sorry, but I think our Mr Orengo missed that memo.
He has just been quoted on KTN evening news talking about those people who were arrested during the skirmishes after the elections at the beginning of the year;

"If those people who STOLE the election from us are walking free, then all those who reacted to the theft of this election with violence should also be set free."

And they call this government a 'union' ???

Gentlemen, PLEASE get a grip ....

The world around us maybe falling apart. Natural disasters are claiming lives all over the show, and if its not natural it'll be some fellow in a flack jacket with a nasty looking weapon taking people out. In fact, all in all, this world is becoming an incredibly depressing place, and to tell you the honest truth - I have often wondered why I bother getting up in a morning, but stupidly I do, every morning, with my 'glass half full' attitude, wince at all the news stories, pray for a better tomorrow, and then this comes through on the BreakingNews.ie site .....

"YOUNG MEN PREFER IRONING TO CAR MAINTENANCE"

I mean Versace may have had it right here - but that's not the real world ....

Read this if you dare .....

Young men are more comfortable ironing their laundry than getting under a car bonnet, according to new research published today.

A study into the changing lifestyles of young males found that while over 62% of men aged 18 to 29 were comfortable at the ironing board, just one in 10 was able to maintain a car.

Three quarters of young men surveyed said they regularly donned an apron in the kitchen, and 85% were comfortable crying in front of other people.

James Brown, founding editor of men’s magazine Loaded, said the survey showed that men had fallen prey to "gender surrender".

He said: “A bloke’s masculinity used to come effortlessly and his place in the world was clear cut. Nowadays, women are confident and men are confused.

“As men have been reacting to being told how they should behave rather than how they really are, they’ve crossed the line from just changing with the times to committing outright gender surrender.”

No, No, No, No, No ... this cannot be, all the people in the neighbourhood hear me cry. What if I have a bit of a crisis - you know those ones, light bulb needs changing, fuse has blown, tap's dripping, car doesn't start ..... Surely, I need to 'get a man in'!

Of course the truth is that although we ladies do go for the 'get a man in' every time.. Turns out that usually you'll end up doing it yourself as you don't have the patience to wait for him to change his shirt (to the one for doing the odd jobs about the house that of course he can't seem to find), get himself a cold beer from the fridge (he's got to keep refreshed you know), search high and low for the inevitably needed 'tool box', (although of course the screwdrivers are kept in the kitchen drawer and the tool box is basically obsolete and full of unusable junk), call his mates on the phone to let them know he'll be late for the footie match as 'he's doing some few jobs about the house for her indoors" (so he can get a bit of sympathy when he does get down the pub all 15 seconds later than he had originally scheduled), etc.

... but actually that is NOT the point.

Surely ladies, we want our men to be men (and although a spot of washing up and even the odd ironed shirt wouldn't be a bad idea - although I'm not sure I can say I'm entirely comfortable with the thought of a bloke with a hot box in one hand and a slither of silk with creases in it in the other - unless of course he is 'Versace babe'!), I'd really rather men could at least pretend to be able to start the car (whacking with a hammer at least shows willing don't you think?), and taking things apart with a screwdriver again shows a bit of enthusiasm for fixing stuff (even though you'll more than likely have to take it down to the shops on Monday and find yourself a 'proper' repair shop)
- I really believe it's the thought that counts .....

Don't surrender chaps. Wipe away those tears, put the iron down, leave the dirty washing where you took it off (including the apron), stay well away from the kitchen, and get a blasting from the Missus for being a slob.

Otherwise it won't matter any more how crap the world is around us, and whether we should even think about getting out of bed in the morning, because without doubt men will become obsolete and women will have no-one to bitch about at their coffee mornings, or over the email, or over the 3 times per day phone calls that are essential to our lives, and life just won't be worth living.

Perhaps this is the the day of judgement after all - but not as predicted I feel although looking at the daily natural disasters it may seem the end is nigh- but filling the world with men in aprons will definitely mean women giving up the will to live .....


Footnote for my more discerning politically correct readers - I'm so sorry to have perhaps offended the more sensitive ones of you that believe it should be 'equal rights for all' and gender doesn't count, but, being a woman, I have to disagree with this - at my own discretion of course. (If I wish to be paid loads of cash (equal to a man in the same position), I shall of course complain bitterly and say that I should be treated equally, but god save the poor bloke who dares to charge through the door ahead of me and not bother to hold it open for anyone who may be behind ....)

Will someone please get the German authorities a sense of humour!!

Saw these headlines come through on CNN last night – “Parents try to sell baby on eBay”, and my immediate reaction was;

“Brilliant, What a FAB idea!”

Apparently the baby was 7 months old and labelled as ‘Nearly New’. I laughed so hard. The Germans however did NOT. They immediately sent the mother for psychiatric help and took the baby into care!!

I mean, Yes, I do believe it takes a special kind of person to actually go ahead and advertise their baby for sale on eBay, and for just one Euro do you mind, but please tell me of one parent in this world who at some time or another in their child’s life – even if it was just for a split second – didn’t think that they may actually even pay someone to take them away, and to gain one whole Euro in exchange would be a bargain actually!!

Personally I would have added in a line;
"Toys included".

Like I said it probably takes a slightly warped person to really carry it off, but the parents did try to explain that it was done as a joke and they really would never have gone ahead with it. But Oh No, the German authorities would have none of it.

Don’t tell me that people who do deal in any form of child trade – which I will be the first to condemn wholeheartedly let me tell you – would ever in a million years genuinely traffic children by advertising on eBay for goodness sake.

Now this is headlines on every news channel, and all I can say is I hope eBay is making some great marketing sales out of this. My first retort as 'Marketing Director' for them would be to put out a great ad amplifying the fact that you would be bloody amazed what you can buy on eBay these days!!

You're probably all jumping up and down at your computers by now going "Oh My God, what type of woman is this Mzungu Chick", but perhaps you might look at the fact that ALL parents in the entire world probably need a little psychiatric help from time to time when it's all going pear shaped at their house, and yes, more than likely they'll never dare say it OUT LOUD, because of course to all of us, our own children are the most perfect little darlings that ever walked this earth, and we'll all be the first to tell you such. But once in a while, the thought of jumping off the fridge freezer to get away from the noise, the guilt and the continuous heartache known as 'parenthood' doesn't seem like such a crazy idea.

At least this has taught me one small lesson in life;

For Goodness Sake, whatever you're thinking, don't let those thoughts escape out of your head!

Personally I think we should all get a grip, and SMILE ! :)

Need to gain a few pounds? ... Have a workshop!

For the past two days I have been in a workshop together with a bunch of other company staff for a spot of ‘strategic planning’.

Well, can I just say that in all truth, all we have really done for the past two days is strategically plan how to stuff our faces. Coming out after two days of meal to meal activity, I’m a little confused on what actually we really did achieve besides putting on 3 kilos each – which funnily enough, in my case, was completely unnecessary.

I hear of lots of skinny people, both blokes and women, complaining if you please, that they can’t put on weight. It’s easy people, attending a workshop can guarantee you will sit perfectly still for a minimum of 12 hours per day with the only exercise involved being lifting your hand to your mouth, and perhaps unwrapping your next sweetie!

The general programme looks something like this;

8.00 Tea/coffee with fruits, donuts, sticky buns, banana bread

10.00 Tea/coffee with biscuits, more sticky buns, and yet more banana bread

12.30 Lunch (minimum 3 courses, but at least 5 available). Start with soup and bread, followed by a variety of cold meats, cheeses and salads, main course of meat, fish and chicken plus rice, potatoes and the compulsory overcooked vegetables, followed by fruit salad, various colours of chocolate mousse, profiteroles and oodles of cream, cheese and biscuits and yet another cup of coffee for good measure. All this interspersed with chocolate éclairs and Murray mints on the tables in the meeting – just in case you’re feeling a little peckish by any small chance! – And all this before dinner of course (which is another extravagant affair consisting of at least 7 courses), and all replicated for 2 days in a row!!

(Oh, and of course there is a little bit of chatting in between the meals which is what apparently they call the point of being there!)

This is me after attending my 2 day workshop!
So NOT recommended - Best stay in the office and get some real work done.

They just don’t warn you about these things at Weight Watchers let me tell you. I saw nothing in the plan when I joined up about warning you of the dangers of attending a workshop. They go on about eating out and getting a take away, and what to do if you’re at a party, what foods to enjoy and which to avoid, but NOT a word about how to eat (OR not to more appropriately), at a workshop.

It is a little secret that I have been hiding from you all, but after all your comments of how, what and the way forward on loosing a few pounds after I put a picture in all of your heads of some horses knees buckling under the weight of lil’ ol’ me jumping on board, I felt soooo guilty I ended up joining up with Weight Watchers can you believe.

The local branch of the group is actually run by a very good friend of mine, so luckily I have been saved the total embarrassment of ‘going public’ with my fatness and have been able to catch up with the whole thing on the quiet.

I did actually suggest to her that I certainly did not have a weight problem but actually a terrible issue with my washing powder and it was shrinking all of my clothes.

Coincidentally she totally understood my plight as she too had been having the same problem with her washing too, and it of course had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that both of us seem to be able to empty the fridge of its contents down our necks at frequent intervals!

Well, here’s the thing. Week One – get weighed, realise that is of course a terrible start as her scales weigh over by about 10 kilos which is so not fair and not a positive way to go. I did try and protest – but found out in a hurry that that is a complete waste of words – as she’d heard it all before. So, once you’ve been weighed and totally humiliated by the numbers, you are then handed a bunch of books which tell you what you should be eating or more appropriately NOT eating and then sent on your way to starve for the rest of your life, until of course, you then attend a workshop ….. ARGH!

Can you believe I’d lost 4 bloody kilos, my horses were slightly relieved that things were finally looking up, and now I’ve gone and stuffed the whole thing!!

Oh well, best look forward. Tomorrow is another day. I shall start all over again on the ‘let’s starve’ regime known as ‘Weight Watchers’, and before you know it I shall be just a wee slip of a chick once more, and all my clothes will once again fit as they should and I can stop writing the rude letters to the washing powder manufacturers for shrinking everything!

Oooooh can’t wait. Roll on tomorrow.

Normal service has been resumed ...

Well, after my break in bed for a week missing out on the world around me, reading the papers and listening to the news over the last few days makes me feel all warm inside knowing that out here in the big wide world nothing has changed.

Last week all the internally displaced Kenyans were asked to return home (and very kindly given an armed escort - just in case they decided they did not wish to return to their burnt homes and ravaged farms).

The civil service was put onto the list of "Who will we steal money from in order to afford the compulsory armed escort to take the internally displaced home?", along of course with the army.

Our government very kindly donated this money to the IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons), and made sure only to take it from those with a salary below the $300 per month line, so that all those above that line - such as of course the MPs who desperately need their cash (in order to have those smashing homecoming parties of their own!), and so therefore all those with the salaries of the $10,000 minimum PLUS expenses per month - didn't have theirs touched.

Like to keep it fair and equal in the government you know. If you've got nothing in life, then best give some of that away to those with less than nothing and then the big boys can sleep better at night!


What I really DO NOT understand is how the hell these people can seriously think that all Kenyans are that unfazed by this whole divide. Surely over the month of January, it became very obvious to everyone - including the outside world - that Kenyans are very unhappy with their lot and this incredible divide we have of the 'haves' and the 'have nots' has to come to an end, and solutions have to be worked out to lessen this gap. But no, imagine after all that bloodshed our politicians have the audacity to sweep it under the carpet pretty quick smart, blame it on someone else, and then get on with "Business As Usual"......

Why are we taking this???

You know there's a brilliant publication that has come out in the last week that outlines all this unfairness. It is called "Wajibu" and is produced by a few Kenyans who are really fighting for the rights of ALL of us. (If you click on that link, one of the members of the 'task force' that produced the magazine tells you how to get hold of a copy.)

The magazine identifies itself as "A journal of social and ethical conduct", and it highlights all these issues that our country has been through over these last few months, what we are still going through, and has some great articles on how ordinary Kenyans see the way forward from here.

What it does show is that there is definitely "Optimism about the possibility of a new Kenya", but it really is about time that our current politicians stopped their 'business as usual' and got on with developing this sanguinity.

As the editorial in the front of this journal quotes;
"This Kenya can only happen if all of us take our responsibility as citizens seriously and if our politicians strive to be the kind of leaders who put the welfare of the nation AHEAD of lust for power and greed for material benefits."

So let's go for it people, 'normal service' is not OK with us any longer.
Let's go with Obama on this one (seeing as he really is a Kenyan in American clothing!), and tell our government what we really want .....

"Change we can believe in"!

There IS light at the end of the tunnel after all ...

Sorry for the lack of drivel from me in the last few days. It isn't often that I'm quiet, but I've been slightly busy.

I finally raised my head from the pillow Thursday without throwing up or spinning around, and with only a slight head knock, which was such a bonus after 10 days of 'explosive head syndrome'.

Decided I’d better venture into the office and peep round the door and see how big my ‘In-tray’ had grown. (I was thinking that if it perhaps looked like something resembling Kilimanjaro, I could get hold of the bomb squad to send in first to blow up the pile until it got down to a more manageable size.)

Anyway, it turned out my staff know me better than I thought, and although a fairly large amount of paper waited for my signature, it looked kind of bearable and so in I snuck. (Great word that - ‘snuck’ – total lie however, as chances of me sneaking in anywhere are incredibly slim, with my big mouth and clip clop high heeled boots that I love wearing!)

Anyway back to the point (if there is one of course) – the staffed foxed me good and proper, and as I tried to make the level of the pile head downwards they just kept topping it up!

I did pretty well though, and had almost reached the bottom before my head went into shock – although this time it was more likely to have been a stress related headache rather than the dreaded lurgy of mine resurfacing, but still, - the head did get to a stage where it couldn’t look at another bit of paper. So I bailed out, and went and met a friend for a coffee instead (as you do of course when you’re supposed to be at work… I think it’s known as ‘networking’ – it’s fabulous – I highly recommend it!)

So got through Thursday and was so excited that finally I got to speak to people again, and not just those who exist in my head in outerspace as, as much as you lot are rather fabulous of course, I can't seem to excercise the mouth as well, and as you may have gathered from the amount of garbage I can spit out on this thing, I am one who’s quite keen for a bit of a chat!

Friday I actually put on a skirt in celebration. Celebration for the fact of course that it was already Furihday (Can I just say I do like these 2 day working weeks), secondly, I finally got to ‘shoot the breeze’ , and, most importantly, the small detail that my head did not finally feel like it wanted to explode …..Yay!!

Now you may think that the donning of a skirt is no big deal, but that’s because you haven’t seen me in my general attire of black trousers or blue jeans. And what a sensation it caused let me tell you. In our office they wanted to declare a public holiday in honour of me wearing said skirt, because they all know that usually I only dust those legs of mine off once a year for such an occasion and that’s in honour of Christmas Day! (being of course that my kind of skirts are hardly 3 inches on the ‘micro’ side but more like 3 feet on the ‘make sure it’s all covered’ side – meaning the dusting off of the legs is of no consequence whatsoever, and I’m not quite sure what all the fuss is about, but nevertheless, ‘the chick in a skirt’, always causes a stir.)

It was though, like all my Christmases had come at once.

No more looking through the ‘Book of Death’ every hour telling me the same useless bit of information …”Go and see your doctor NOW”, for every symptom I had. No more playing Bingo online and feeling like I should be parking a Zimmer frame at the front door for special outings, and finally real conversations with real people that weren’t incredibly hairy and rushed about on four legs panting a lot !

(Sounds like I got stuck in an old people’s home reading that … but I meant my dogs, who although pretty damn smart let me tell you, are bit of a bore when it comes to conversations concerning the price of cheese in Outer Mongolia. It seems their interests are closer to home, and conversations are slightly limited and tend to deal with topics such as;

“Will you feed me?”,

“Can we go for a walk?”,

“Drive in the car perhaps?”, or

“I’m sure someone mentioned food.”)

So you see, I’m back, and full of nonsense yet again.

‘There is light at the end of the tunnel after all’ ……..

Woo Hoo .......

As you might gather, I am slightly bored of all this ..

Being sick in bed and all, one tends to become quite morbid it seems.

You go throught the inevitable “Oh my god, am I dying? Is this really it?” through “Should I be writing my will?” and onto “Lets look through the great book of death and see what illness I’ve really got that's going to kills me off, because this loooong named virus just doesn’t sound serious enough to do me in surely!!

So out comes the book of death (it’s known as the Medical Encyclopaedia to most), and I systematically go through the symptoms, as you do.

.. explosive head…

…drunk feeling without actually opening the gin bottle

.. explosive bottom (sorry – probably far too much information there)

And what do I have …..

Oooh – it’s a ‘Consult your doctor’ illness – God, how dull.

I know, I’ll go one better and Google “explosive head” on the internet …

- how about this for useful?

How To Tell If Your Head's About To Blow Up

Ah – well, it seems that if my skull was going to internally combust, it probably would have done so by now, so that’s not very helpful.

So, this is the most significant thing that I seem to be able to come up with entitled “explosive head”

Actually I ended up laughing so hard my head hurt more than it has all day – so probably not that useful but then I came across an awfully valuable site totally heaving with useless information and I thought I should share a couple of these titbits as they seem rather pertinent right now!

Did you know???? from www.livescience.com

Your Stomach Secretes Corrosive Acid

There's one dangerous liquid no airport security can confiscate from you: It's in your gut. Your stomach cells secrete hydrochloric acid, a corrosive compound used to treat metals in the industrial world. It can pickle steel, but mucous lining the stomach wall keeps this poisonous liquid safely in the digestive system, breaking down lunch.

(which goes far in explaining that dangerous smell I’ve got hanging out in here – aren’t you all glad you didn’t drop by to visit!)

Body Position Affects Your Memory

Can't remember your anniversary, hubby? Try getting down on one knee. Memories are highly embodied in our senses. A scent or sound may evoke a distant episode from one's childhood. The connections can be obvious (a bicycle bell makes you remember your old paper route) or inscrutable. A recent study helps decipher some of this embodiment. An article in the January 2007 issue of Cognition reports that episodes from your past are remembered faster and better while in a body position similar to the pose struck during the event.

(I can confirm that this is true when one has been lying in bed for days – it seems you can’t remember a bloody thing you’ve done – or not – ah, perhaps that’s the point – you see, What memory?)

..and with all that, I seem to have forgotten the point of all this ....

Politics the world over ......

This is politics the world over summed up perfectly by our man in The Standard today ....

I've got a real illness after all ...

Ok, so it turns out my hormones are in perfect working order and I haven’t got a ‘bloke’ illness at all but a genuine one with a really loooong name that I can’t possibly pronounce but it most definitely sounds like I should be in my bed!

So I am, and am incredibly bored I might add. Even the thrill of watching TV all day has not inspired me in the slightest and I haven’t even switched it on. I have an awful worry that I may be catching that “TV’s a load of bollix” disease and next thing you know, I’ll be stopping my satellite subscription …….

Whoops, sorry, it’s Ok Disney Channel, I promise not to cancel my satellite subscription and bankrupt you as my son wouldn’t allow it and would go on strike, and seeing as Disney Channel is what I use to bribe him to get anything done in this house – I simply couldn’t do that to myself!!

You see, I shouldn’t be worrying about politics – or not – and how much our mate Raila has spent of our hard earned cash, on his fabulous welding goggles that he’s been sporting since his trip round the world for an eye op. Instead I should be writing a blog on “How to effectively bribe your children” and “How to be an absolutely FAB parent”, and of course my favourite of the day “How to waste 24 hours on the internet WITHOUT taking a break” - except of course for the odd pee and frequent ‘raid the fridge’ stops!!

You see, that’s what happens when you end up with an unpronounceable virus that makes you feel like you’re drunk as a skunk without the expense of buying lots of gin.

It’s bloody marvellous actually and I highly recommend it….

The only other time I felt like this was when I dislocated my shoulder and the surgeon gave me a pethadine injection and then proceeded to climb on top of me, stick his knee in my shoulder and have the nurse yank my arm in the other direction!!

Luckily he had given me the pethadine first – not because of the pain – but the fact that I wasn’t compus mentos enough to really think about how ethical it was that the orthopaedic surgeon was actually sitting on me.

Really, I should have sued and then I’d be a rich chick by now and wouldn’t have to spend my sickly days surfing for jobs!

Oh woe is me I tell you, and with that, I shall love you and leave you, and hope that tomorrow I may wake up slightly more sane and perhaps start talking a little more sense.

But then again .......

Seems I have a sickness of sorts ...

I am writing this post from the comfort of my bed can you believe, squinting through one eye and typing with a few fingers – that are making a lot of mistakes I might add!

It seems I’ve come over ‘all blokey’, and just can’t cope.

You know the sort of ‘all blokey’ sickness – where you’ve got to moan and groan a lot like a man with a sore toe and make sure you drag the sympathy out of those all around you, and get waited on hand and foot. Not the woman kind of sickness where, no matter what, you just keep on going.

Perhaps I've got a hormone imbalance, or perhaps it's a kind of transvestite thing that's creeping up on me. I'd better start emailing yer man Ronaldo for a spot of advice!

...... and by the way, don't all you chaps out there reading this get all defensive and shoot straight down to the comment box trying to justify yourselves (or Ronaldo for that matter).

Us women have heard it all before :)

I don’t understand it. I hardly ever get sick, yet since Monday evening I have had a splitting headache with frequent head spin and it just does not seem to want to go away.

Went to bed Monday night feeling like I was completely drunk, yet the fact that I haven’t had a drink for years didn’t quite make up for it. Woke up Tuesday morning feeling like I had been run over by a large double decker bus during the night, but being a girl – and NOT a bloke, I crawled out of my bed at 5.30am, had some breakfast, argued with my son, took him to school, and then ….

Faded rapidly and headed straight back to bed where I stayed for the rest of the day.

This morning I definitely didn’t feel normal, but hey what’s normal these days, and I most definitely felt a lot better than yesterday. So, crawled out of bed yet again, dropped my son at school, sorted out some stuff that had gotten messed up yesterday whilst I was sleeping, and then headed for the office, and there I sat – being a little slow I may add – but I caught up on my emails and signed the usual 3 Million bits of little paper that accumulate when you take the day off, and then ….. my head decided that no matter how many pain killers I got down my neck – it was going to pop anyway.

So decided best I leave the office quick before I leave a mess up the walls with explosive grey matter and the like, and shoot off down to the Surgery to see if they could conjure me up some miracle cure or just perhaps sellotape my head back together if things got out of hand, but oh no, …..

“Oooh, I’m so sorry madam that your head may explode in the next 30 minutes however I’m afraid that the doctors are all fully booked for the next three weeks. But perhaps if you’re really, really dying, I could squeeze you in with someone at 12.30 tomorrow.”

But hold on, I may be dead by tomorrow – and then what you going to do??

Huh Huh Huh ???

I had no idea that scheduling yourself being sick was an ‘in advance’ thing to be done and one mustn’t descend on the doctor once you're already ill and get yourself an appointment without giving notice waaaaay ahead.

I think I missed a memo somewhere – thought you got sick first, then planned to see the doc. Didn’t realise you were supposed to do it the other way round.

You see – I should have asked a bloke!! He He !!

What it's really like in "The Ladies" loo ...

This is dedicated to women everywhere who have to deal with any public rest rooms/toilets (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!), and it finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.


When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with your pants and assume ' The Stance.

In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, you hold 'The Stance.'

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.

In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.

The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a sweet wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?)

You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?

Just a thought ........

At the beginning of the week, when it was announced that our newly ensconced Prime Minister would be flying out of the country for a spot of scheduled surgery and probably would not be back before the weekend, it crossed my mind that it was a little odd that Raila would not be around for such a big celebration as Labour Day, especially seeing as he has only just been sworn in and this would be the first proper state occasion at which to show off the new coalition and the new peace for Kenya.

BUT then, our dear President took to the podium and announced that for a second year in a row there would be no review of the minimum wage. He explained this was to protect businesses that were suffering from the post election chaos, and that the wanainchi shouldn't worry about the over inflated cabinet that was swallowing all the cash, because if we want peace that is a price we have to pay.

Then I realised how CONVENIENT it was that Honourable Raila Odinga was not part of this news, knowing full well I assume, that it would go down with our people like a lead balloon. Surely this means that in the future, if needs be (and chances are they will), he can turn around and say he had nothing to do with the decision not to raise the minimum wage and 'What on earth was Kibaki thinking?'

Thing is, if this is supposedly a 'coalition' government, does that not mean that with such major decisions as whether or not to review the minimum wage should surely have been discussed between them .... Ama ?



"Mmmm, yes, think I too might have opted for the laser eye surgery than be party to what was obviously going to be a bit of a crap day out .."

Also interesting don't you think, that our President blames the wanainchi for the chaos and says therefore we should pay the bill for it, knowing full well that ultimately POVERTY is what has got us to this awful position in the first place, and all he is doing is sinking us further into the mud by this decision.

Do you think these people will ever actually see the daylight, or will they conveniently sit aloft in their grand towers until the end of time?