My morning routine includes walking my baby to school, and it’s the best part of my day. She’s often asleep when I get home from work so if I don’t see her in the morning, I won’t see her at all. The ritual is important to both of us, and on the days I’ve had to skip it for an early morning meeting, her teacher has called to ask why she’s so moody and upset.

The only downside with our ritual is it sometimes makes me late for work. Traffic in our hood is so erratic that I get to work anywhere between 7.30 and 9.30, even though I always leave the house at the exact same time. I’ve been late this whole week, and that reflects badly on my record. That and the office lateness rule …

This morning we made it pretty early … but then I realized I’d left my ATM and ID behind. So we had to go back … which cost us about ten minutes. Once I got to town, I had to decide between fruit salad and a doughnut. I picked the unhealthy choice. The salesman convinced me to throw in a chicken pie and Afya Apple Juice. I got to work with barely seconds to spare.

Then I popped my food into the microwave. The plan was to warm the chicken pie. But about 30 seconds in, I noticed the icky brown goo and realized I’d put the doughnut in instead. How now? It was a mushy puddle of sticky white and brown and wasn’t appetizing at all. My first instinct was to throw it away, but I decided to grab a fork and see what wheat flour mush is like. Luckily, it tasted a whole lot better than it looked.

I got back to my desk to make an M-PESA payment. I even wrote it down and sent a text confirming the number. But the recipient made the same mistake that I did – we read what we thought was there. Seconds later, I got a confirmation text with a distinctly alien name. WTF? Luckily Safaricom sorted it out before the damage was done, so phew! Less luckily, I proceeded to key in a second wrong number … this time I noticed it before I hit send, so phew!

I went to M-PESA to make a second deposit, and ED decided if I could be moody, then so could he. He swallowed up the toolkit menu! Stupid Ideos. The agent had deposited the money, but since I had no menu, there was no confirmation on my side. The agent suggested I try putting the phone off and on again. *insert rolling eyes* Since we all know how long an Ideos takes to boot up *insert second set of rolling eyes* she was quite panicked by the time ED had coughed himself awake. But at least the SMS came through. Finally. I treated myself to chocolate and some ice cream, even though my lactose issues will be bugging me for days.

I suppose I should explain. I love milk. I mean, I really love milk. I’ve been known to drink two litres a day. But after 3 decades of excessive consumption, my body had enough. About two years ago, I ended up lactose intolerant. The doctor says the lactase in my system is depleted, so every time I feed myself some milk, butter, cheese, chocolate, ice cream, mala, or Maryland cookies, I experience three days of debilitating cramps. Sometimes they last for just a few seconds, sometimes they go a full three days. I’ve learnt to pace myself, and I even know which brands of lactose aggravate it less. The only thing that gets me is no more Weetabix! Sigh.

             In the middle of my ice cream binge, I bumped into an article about Queen Elizabeth II. It’s her 60th anniversary, so of course it had pictures of her in her 20s. Pictures like that always make me sad. As I look at the shots, I can barely see any resemblance. It’s like looking at two different people. It makes me sad that one day I’ll look into the mirror and wonder where my face went. It would tear me up not to recognoze myself. It’s almost like having alzheimer’s, which is another thing I fear. My mind is my greatest treasure. Losing my memory would have to be the worst form of torture. It’s why I’d like to die at 65.

I’m rereading one of my favourite books, Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. Each time I read it, I wonder what the purpose of life is. For me, life is about having fun. Yes, I have responsibilities and obligations, but I find it hard to do anything if I don’t enjoy it. I’m blessed to be getting paid to write, which is my first passion. My second is reading, and I’ve neglected it for years. I’m glad to be finally leafing through books again. I had to sacrifice my Twitter time to do it, but in the past two weeks, I’ve done a handful of tweets and read four novels, which feels really good.

I love getting lost in music, and ever since I got my iPod, I can do that 24-7, another blessing that I’m grateful for. And my little girl is growing into a woman, which makes me terribly proud and terribly frightened. But she’s happy and healthy and loved, so we’re just going to play it a moment at a time.

I need to make some changes in my life, some drastic shifts in context, as my good friend Samsam says. So I’m going to take a Landmark class next week. I’m still not sure how I’m going to pay for it, but I’m claiming it by faith. I suppose that’s a strange thing to say seeing as I don’t believe in God. But I do believe in some higher power, and I know it gives us miracles sometimes. See, Samsam gave me advice. He said I should focus on getting the 2K to register first. I had no idea how, but I said cool. The second I put down the phone, I checked my Gmail inbox … and found a new 3K payment from a long forgotten client. Sweet! Since it was money I wasn’t expecting, I used it for my class – thank you George! That’s 2 down, 13 to go.

Meanwhile, rumour has it there shall be an office koroga later. I rarely drink at office parties. In fact, I never drink in public. I have this condition called FODOT. That’s short for Fear of Dancing on Tables. Anyway, the last time I drank at work, it was only because Bharat, Vimal, and Kevin insisted. I had one glass of wine. Well, okay, two half glasses. I ended up confronting a matatu driver for leaving us at the wrong stage, making a phone call on a wobbly River Road [yes, the River Road was wobbling] and threatening to kickbox anyone who tried to grab my Ideos. Please note that it was 9.00 p.m. and I was walking alone. I then got home and cried over the sad thoughts in my head. And that was two half glasses!

So today when I was asked if I ever take alcohol, I said no, and asked for Malta Guiness instead. Or Mountain Dew. I wasn’t really thinking about my answer, because I was twiddling with my phone at the time. But it might not be a bad rule to implement. Usually I only drink at home, with the doors locked and no chance of doing any damage to anyone. My preferred drink is Baileys, because it tastes like chocolate. But because it’s a cream liqueur, it affects me pretty much the same way ice cream does. I don’t get hung over. I’m just stuck in bed with cramps for the next three days. So, starting today, I am teetotaller, both in public and in private. It’s safe, it’s healthy, and it sets a good example. Besides, what’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

♫ What goes around  ♫ Justin Timberlake ♫

For a few weeks now, my desk has been full of static. At first I thought it was just the heat, while some of my more illustrious workmates made jokes about how hot they were. This after they touched my arms or fingers and got literally thrown off. I wonder – seeing as the static came from them touching me – why they didn’t decide it’s me that was hot. *shrug* The level of static was really, really bad, and it even made me squeal sometimes. I figured it was something on my laptop, or maybe just my usual gadget mishaps. I didn’t know how to fix it, so I just sat and waited. I figured it would stop and go away … eventually.

I usually carry my iPod in a pretty leather case. I clasp it on my belt, waistband, or pocket, and it’s usually quite safe. But two or three times, I’ve gotten off a matatu to find the iPod dangling by the cable on the headphones. It seems I’ve gotten bigger, or mathrees have gotten smaller, or maybe it was grabby little fingers. Either way, all the pushing and the shoving almost lost my iPod! After it happened the third time, I decided to ditch the case. Since Verdy is adorably tiny, I figured she’d be safer hiding deep inside my pocket.

This weekend, I went on a marathon of torrents. Why? Well, while back, I lost my music and the back-ups to my music when both my hard drives crashed. One was attacked by Kenya Power, the other one was thrown to the ground during a tantrum. No, it wasn’t me, and no, he hasn’t been forgiven. I keep meaning to re-gather my collection, but I keep putting it off because it takes time and work. Anyway, this weekend I finally got started with discographies of P!nk, Paramore, Eminem, Nickelback, and UB40. What.

Before I go on, I should say a bit about my home computer. It was built by my little brother. He’s in IT. And when I say he’s in IT, I mean he’s in IT. He gathered the parts from various dubious valid sources and held them together with … um … screws. And masking tape. Well, okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. Because, you see, my computer isn’t really held together. The … um … parts, rest on various different .. um … stands.

You know when you walk into a nerd’s bedroom and find different bits of cables, shiny discs, and motherboard-looking things strewn all over the bed? The paraphernalia is held together with pretty plastic ribbons in red, blue, and yellow. And from that miraculous pile of junk, a sharp image appears on 62 inch screen, an image of multicoloured code or animated videogame vixens? Yeah, that’s my computer. I’ve asked him to seal the casing once or twice, but he says it’s easier to work with everything scattered about. I can’t complain because that scary contraption earned me half a million in freelance writing jobs.

The downside with my put-together thing is that I can’t see what to fix! So anytime it coughs, sneezes, or purrs, I scream and call my brother, who pokes it for a bit and then it works. The boy’s a bonafide Micah Sanders, I swear! Anyway, this weekend, I was trying to get the files onto my iPod. I placed the cable into the USB port and it … disappeared! No, I don’t mean the USB tooth disappeared. I mean the port disappeared. It fell right through!

I figured I should peep between the shiny bits of junk to see where it had gone. As I did so, I grabbed my iPod to make sure it wouldn’t fall. Bzzz. I was four feet across the room! Well okay, more like four inches – my hand was thrown clean off! I was still pretty confused by everything, so I did the obvious thing – I grabbed the iPod again. And my arm was thrown. Again! This time I felt the buzzing right through my arm! What the hell?

I touched the iPod a third time, and this time I screamed so loud that Princess came to check on me! A small idea was forming in my head – disconnect the power source. Duh! So I looked at where the hole had disappeared and tried to pull the cable. Bzzz! Christ! Okay, Plan B, disconnect the iPod from the cable. By the time my fingers singed the fifth time, I was starting to smell hair. I’m sure it was only in my mind, but still!

I looked around for some kind of insulation and all I could see was the marvin my baby sometimes wears to school. So I clumsily wrapped the iPod in it and disengaged it from the cable. Voilà! No more limb-throwing! Of course by now my computer was mad, so it went completely off and wouldn’t come on again. Oh crumbs.

As I sat staring at the angry machine, it all fell into place. I’ve been charging my iPod on my desk at work … without its case. That’s probably what causes all the static! I suppose the shiny casing has its downsides. My computer was still acting like a b* so I called my brother whining. He said he’d come fix it, but seeing as we’ve fixed it five times already, it might be a good idea to just go get a new one. This time, I’ll insist on solid casing and no relation to Alienware. Meanwhile, lesson learned: never charge a shiny thing without its leather case.

♫ Fade Away ♫ Breaking Benjamin ♫

It was a fairly slow day at work and I had finished the book I was reading in traffic, so I decided to dig out some PDF. I spent the rest of the day reading The Burden, a romance-ish novel by Agatha Christie. Yes, romance – six novels that she wrote under the pen name Mary Westmacott. I found the book quite gripping and when it was hometime, I didn’t want to leave it halfway. The trouble is I don’t have a Kindle [yet], and I wasn’t going to lug my two-tonne laptop all the way. It’s a bit hard to read a laptop inside a matatu.

I wondered if it was possible to somehow get the file onto my Ideos. First, I downloaded Adobe Reader, but that was no good, because The Burden was a .LIT file. I tried to find Microsoft Reader for Android. No luck. I asked my friend Kevin. He’s my go-to guy on all things confusion, and he hasn’t failed me yet! The man has answers on everything from embedding WordPress to buying BMWs!

He suggested I download Moon+Reader, but that still left me stuck, since Moon+Reader can’t open .LIT files. Now that I knew what files they were, I hopped onto Google to search ‘How to read .LIT files’. Google led me here, and I quickly converted the .LIT to PDF. Yay!

Now here’s the thing. The Ideos screen is … well … small. And Adobe Reader doesn’t come with a ‘format to screen’ option. So to read the converted book, I had to keep scrolling up and down a single line! Not fun. I screamed for help and Kevin suggested what should have been obvious to me. Instead of converting to PDF, convert to a format that Moon+Reader can … well … read! I tried converting the book to Epub and hey presto voilà – I could read!

I spent the entire commute home [plus four more hours] reading the book cover to cover. Well, okay, scroll bar to scroll bar. About 200 pages in, I accidentally noticed I could flip the virtual pages instead of merely scrolling down. Pretty! Of course I had to keep ED plugged in while I read, but luckily my sofa is next to the wall and the socket is quite nearby, so that didn’t affect my reading position.

When I finally finished the book at 10.30 p.m. I was elated in more ways than one. The book is winded and has a pretty loose structure. I wondered if it might be her first novel. [A quick search on Google shows it was actually her 6th Westmacott novel. Interesting.] I skipped 50 pages for being purely description. [The book is 299 pages long.] I wonder if she wanted to edit at some point and make it more polished once she got famous. But I loved the book and wouldn’t change a thing … except the 50 pages of description.

I often toy with the idea of being a novelist. I released a book in 2008, got it published and everything. Whenever I’m really down, I take it out and look at it. Few things give me greater joy than running my fingers along the words A Novel by Crystal Ading’. When I wrote it, it was meant as a trilogy, but I’ve never gotten round to the rest.

Sometimes I think novels will be my ticket to financial freedom, and that someday I’ll be a millionaire through writing. I remember watching an episode of Moesha where she wanted to be a writer, and a mentor told her she couldn’t write because she hadn’t lived. She was only a teenager and had no experience to write about. I think about myself and the only experience I have is with my schooling, my work life, and my child.

When my baby was born nine years ago, I thought about chronicling her life in a book. I planned to write a baby journal that I’d publish and make millions. But then I watched a show about a single dad. He had a comic in the daily paper. It was about a kitten, but everybody knew the kitten was really his little girl. So when the kitten goes shopping for a training bra, the world put two and two together. At school, the child was tormented about her new … chest … and she resented her father for humiliating her before the world. So even though my little girl would make a great character in a story, I worry about intruding on her privacy.

I could write about the seven great men in my life, or stories from my family, but they all threatened to sue me if I ever said a word. I could write about my high school … after all, I loved Enid Blyton’s St Claires and Malory Towers. I might get sued for that as well, but it’s either that or a book about my industry. I’ve always wanted to write crime novels, but I don’t have the discipline for accurate research. Besides, talking about guns bores me.

I started my first novel in Form 3 and didn’t finish it until I was 27. I’d like to start some more long-term writing, and hopefully it won’t take 10 years to complete. So I’m reading a lot of Enid Blyton, Agatha Christie, and anything unlikely to make me cry. I have tomes on PDF,  untouched books on my shelves, and reading makes me happy, so I’m glad that I’m reading again. I don’t know if my books will ever sell like Danielle Steele or Jackie Collins, especially since there’ll be a lot less fashion, drama, and sex in them. But you can’t be a millionaire novelist without novels, so I’ll just have to try it out and see. I already have a pseudo-agent-cheerleader and I’m itching to tell these stories, so here goes nothing!

♫ 911 ♫ Wyclef Jean ft Mary J. Blige ♫

This morning as we walked to school, we saw a rainbow cloud. It was a pink cloud draped across the sky, and it was shaped like a rainbow. The rest of the sky was a lovely turquoise shade, so it was really something. We also saw a KCC saloon car. It’s blue number plate said KBJ 666U, and on the side, it said ‘Cheese’. I really need to get a serious camera.

Anyway, we stared at our rainbow cloud, and my princess noted it followed us while we walked. She said we must be rainbow babies, because the pink mummy rainbow cloud was running after us to keep us safe. How I love that child.

At the school gate, I kissed her goodbye then crossed the road to head toward the stage. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly felt like playing curb-curb-pavement. It’s a game where you walk on the curb  and try not to step on the pavement or the tarmac, because they are oceans full of sharks. You basically spread your arms for balance and pretend you’re walking on a  tightrope.

I was concetrating so hard on my game that I almost fell over when I heard laughter. I looked up to see my baby’s  teacher grinning at me. She was standing with her teenage son, and it was him that had laughed. I suppose I made the boy’s day. I smiled and waved, then continued with my game. I felt like a little girl again, and it wasn’t a feeling I wanted to let go.

I suppose that scene could work against me. I suppose the teenage boy could walk into school and make torturous fun of my child,  saying her mum is a bigger baby than she is. It’s hard enough maintaining credibility when the other mothers show up in power suits and car keys while I routinely attend meetings in jeans, a hoodie, and a backpack. Plus, when I was asked to give the Class 8s a motivational speech on Prize-giving day, I said, “I went to school here, and I turned out okay. Besides, KCPE isn’t the end of the world, you’ll be fine.” I’m not sure if the uproarious laughter was ironic or not, given the purple dreads and tattoos, but at least my baby hasn’t melted with embarrassment … yet.

I think of my mum when she was my age. She was in the church choir, had 4 side businesses, 69 chama meetings, a different hairdo every week, 53 pairs of shoes, 45 handbags, tons of well-used make up, and a mother-in-law. She was beautiful and stylish and my teachers were always hitting on her. She had one full time job, two part time jobs, a husband, and 3 kids. She could cook, sew, knit, plait, dance, give shots, speak French, and at my dad’s office diwali party, she sang a Hindu song just to impress his boss! She was – in my eyes at least – the ultimate woman.

Me, I have a gorgeous baby girl and a backpack. Every morning when I leave the house, the neighbours ask if I’m going to college. I’m sure they wonder exactly how my rent gets paid.

I feel like I skipped ten years of my life – the ten years where they taught us how to be grown-ups. I look at my classmates. They all have marriages or managerial jobs or shoes that aren’t made of denim and canvas. They drink wine, get waxed, drive cars, dress up, and wear their hair like … hair. This morning I saw a girl who was a mono when I was clearing, and she looked like … my mother! A close friend once pulled me aside and said, ‘We’re at a point in our lives where we need to stop wearing jeans and t-shirts. We’re not in college anymore.’ She was wearing linen pants and designer blouse at the time, and that was two years ago. Am I missing something?

The thing is … I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to dress in silky tops and high heels while listening to jazz, neo-soul, and Afro-fusion. I don’t want an active credit card. I don’t want my investment banker on speed dial. Okay maybe I do, since I’d like to make my millions fairly soon.

I don’t want to watch business news instead of Boomerang. I don’t want to read newspapers instead of Twitter or Kite Runner instead of Sweet Valley High. I don’t want to go for Blankets and Wine instead of Terrific Tuesday, or eat tiramisu instead of vanilla ice cream. Okay, actually, tiramisu would be awesome if I could have it once a week. Just as soon as I taste and decide that I like it, which I will.

I don’t want to play office politics to get a promotion, or join a women’s group, or host my mother-in-law’s chama – partly because I don’t want a mother-in-law in the first place. For me, it’s enough to know my baby girl is happy, my bills are paid, my flat has keys, my taxes are handled, and I can buy Baileys legally. That’s as grown up as I want to be. All that other stuff is overrated, and being a rainbow baby is a lot more fun.

If the little boy whose day I made turns nasty, it mighht not go so well. The princess is emotional. She gets that from me. She’s the type to burst out crying over name-calling, even though her tears are driven by her temper, and every tear will be punctuated with a barrage of returned insults. She gets that from me as well. So I hope he doesn’t use my dance against her. And I hope I can teach her the opinion of the world isn’t as weighty as it seems.

Opinions are things that upset me, even though I have some strong ones of my own. I just finished reading Approval Addiction, and I took a lot from it. For one thing, I realized I’m not quite as addicted as I thought I was.  Two, my outward action may not change, but I’m now completely transformed on the inside. I’m doing all the same things, but for all the right reasons, which is a really good thing. I’ve learnt a lot about myself and had a lovely healing phase. Plus, I was actually reading, so yay!

A lot of things have gone my way today, and I’m now a lot more hopeful for the future. I don’t know how long this up-mood will last, because my feelings are fickle. But I’m going to enjoy it for as long as it is here, and then I’ll deal with whatever comes next. I waste so much time trying to worry about the future and figure things out that I don’t enjoy each moment in the present. I choose not to do that anymore, and I hope my guardian angel will remind me every day.

In other news, I’ve had a rough time recently, and was thinking about getting a tattoo of a tortoise. I figured it would be my new spirit animal, since whenever things get thick, I can retract and hide inside my shell. Plus, it makes its way so slowly, is said to be wise, and never goes house hunting. But a quick search on Google showed me tortoise tattoos aren’t very … pretty. Plus, they may not work well with my skin tone.

I thought about getting a turtle instead, but that beats the purpose, since turtle shells are so much softer than a tortoise. That’s why people can, you know, eat them. So I thought hey, what about a Ninja Turtles Tattoo? But nah, they don’t work without the colour. Also, I’m not entirely sure I want another fresh tattoo. So now I’m looking for a Ninja Turtle Wristband … holla if you have one for sale! I don’t really need to hide anymore, but a Ninja Turtle Wristband is an awesome thing to have, no?

♫ Drive ♫ Incubus ♫

One of the first lessons we learned in Dar was to keep a close eye on the LUKU meter so that we knew when it needed refilling. We learned to calculate how long X number of units would last, so we knew exactly when we needed to reload, and how much. So when my current landlord said we were going prepay, it seemed like a good idea.

The technicians showed up as expected, set everything up, and explained how to use the meter box. I admit I was disappointed since mine looked more like an old calculator, and you had to manually key in the numbers instead of swiping a card, but hey. I asked the guy a lot of questions, like whether I could buy my first batch of ‘electric airtime’ via M-PESA. He advised me against it, saying the M-PESA system hangs a lot, and suggested I buy a Prepaid Token at Uchumi instead. I then asked how much I should buy, and he said they had already loaded 30 Units, so I could relax for a while. Yay!

The first time I loaded my Prepaid Meter, I spent 1,000/= and got 79 units, which lasted just one and a half weeks. I loaded a second 1,000/= and got 71 Units, which lasted another one and a half weeks. My third 1,000/= only got me 58 Units … WTF? I had read on Twitter that the first load of every month has a levy attached, so you’d get fewer units. I also heard, again on Twitter, that buying Prepaid Tokens by M-PESA means you get 10% fewer units because of some kind of service charge. I ended up spending 3500/= during my first month of Prepaid Power, and I wasn’t amused, because my Postpaid electricity bill generally ranged between 300/= and 2300/=. And no, the meter does not allow backsies, so I can’t switch back to Postpaid.

The next time I bought electricity, I went straight to Stima Plaza. This time, my 1000/= got me 69 Units. I asked the cashier what that was about and he explained that the cost of Prepaid Tokens is dependent on the exchange rate. That means depending on the strength of the shilling, 500/= can buy you 30 Units one month, 50 Units the next month, then back down to 45 Units on Month Three. The problem with this is simple. I know I spend roughly 200 Units a month. But those same 200 Units can cost anything between 2000/= and 4000/= depending on the exchange rate, which makes it hard to budget for my electricity bill.

Now, remember the 30 Units that came loaded in the meter? Well, about a week ago, I received a text. Apparently, Kenya Power wants their units back. I was pretty pissed off because I calculate my usage down to the very last unit, and having 30 Units summarily deducted from my meter is screwing me seven ways south of anywhere! I don’t know why they’d claim the units almost a whole year later. And … thing is … I can’t remember the technician actually saying the units were free. Aw crud!

If you look at your Prepaid Token, you’ll notice that roughly 30% of your bill goes to purchase units. The rest of the bill goes to fuel charges, levies, forex, and so on. So I’m not sure sure about the exact monetary value of the 30 Units that Kenya Power intends to deduct. This month, I bought 3000/= worth of electricity, which gave me 203 Units. That means 30 Units should logically cost about 450/= unless they deduct all the forex and levies. If 450/= is deducted from every household with a Prepaid Meter, that adds up to … a lot of money for Kenya Power. Of course they could argue that we owe them the money anyway thanks to the ‘free units’ but they didn’t specify that we had to pay for them later. A lawyer would probably argue that they didn’t specify we didn’t have to pay for them either. Sigh.

Writer @SunnySunWords, suggested a Twitter initiative that we can use to tackle issues like this. #TwitterBigStick. Another tweep, @BenKiilu added his bit with #TwitterThumbsUp. These hasthags can be attached to any general or corporate compliment/complaint on Twitter. Sunny requests that when we use the hashtags, we include details on the matter and photos where possible. He has also requested we don’t misuse the concept. It’s a sound warning, because while Kenyans on Twitter – #KOT are a formidable force, we often use our influence in an rather unhealthy way. We’ve often have international TTs, but a lot of them are negative and/or frivolous.

Sunny says the concepts of #TwitterThumbsUp and #TwitterBigStick are not his own, and that we should all use them together to effect positive change. His article Little People Using Little Devices To Tame Big People appeared in his Sunday Nation Column and explains his philosophy quite clearly. A large part of the Kenyan population is made up of young people, and in Sunny’s words, these young people have the power to make a change.

For a lot of people, Twitter is just a way to pass time, so everything you post is done in good fun and with a light touch. They see it mainly as a way to hang out and kid around. On Twitter, it’s never that serious. But we now see what a powerful tool it can be, when it’s wielded properly. Social Media has been used to bolster revolutions in Iran, Egypt, and Tunisia. It has also been used to lash out against SOPA, which, ironically, could have killed the online world as we know it. As digital citizens, we’re ideally placed to recognize and take adavantage of all this.

And this is where my key issue arises. Sunny has been with us for a while, and is nowhere near Generation Y. He has embraced this technological tool and suggested a way to channel it for good. A week or so ago, there was an argument on Twitter about how we should use this tool to make a change. The response was for some tweeps to call others hypocritical for talking the talk without walking the walk.

This generation wields a lot of power, and we use it to start TTs like #USIUChicks. It has taken someone from a much older era to provide a way for us to use this tool for good. Young people keep insisting that we want to run things at work, at home, in the government, in the world. But if we have power and we can’t choose to use it well unless an older hand guides us, then I’m afraid this might mean the leaders of tomorrow and not quite ready for … tomorrow! As for Kenya Power, they decided to go easy on us and deduct the 30 Units bit by bit. Sigh. Why don’t I feel any better?

I cry at other times too, like during movies, books, and documentraies. I have quite a soft heart and will tear up over pretty much anything. I even cry for adverts! So anyway, today I saw a video that made me cry, in a good way. The video is for ColdPlay’s song, ♫ Paradise ♫. I’ve never quite made my mind up about this song, but today and sat up and paid attention. It started when a workmate shared a remake of the song, an African rendition by The Piano Guys.

I liked the fact the the pianist looked like he was enjoying himself, and his piano arpeggios from 2.54 are to die for. Even the cellist was smiling, and that jazzed me, because string players always look so serious! I suspect the vocalist may be stringing together gibberish for words, but his Matrix dance moves are awesome! Anyway, the cover impressed me enough to make me look for the original video, which is how I ended up in tears.

Spoiler Alert!!

In the original video, there’s an elephant … well okay … a guy in a elephant suit. He’s miserable in the zoo, so he breaks out. He uses a combination or hithchiking, stowaway-ing, unicycling, and subway busking to make his way to … well … Africa I suppose. I expected the video to end with him re-united with his elephant wife and kids, so I was immensely amused when instead he runs towards … an elephant punk band! I’ve watched the video over five times today, and each time it leaves me with a grin, sappy smile, and a tear in my eye.

I’ve had a long day and I’m almost heading home, but in case you have a silly heart like mine, watch the video with me and enjoy.

♫ Paradise ♫ ColdPlay ♫

♫ And the very next day, you gave it away. ♫

I always thought the song was sappy.

Like when you sing a song that says

♫ I’m over you! ♫

♫ I don’t need you anymore! ♫

Yet the very fact you sang it means you’re not …

If you were, you wouldn’t sing.

Last Christmas, I gave myself to you.

Or maybe, in some ways,

You gave me to me.

You showed yourself to me,

and you showed myself to me.

Through your eyes, I saw me as I really am.

But now I feel my gift is gone

Because you’re gone.

You gave to me the gift of … me!

And then you walked away

Taking all that ‘me’ with you.

I used to be a goldfish.

Safe behind the glass,

Staring at the world outside,

But never once daring

Or wanting to join.

At least until you came.

Now you’re gone

And I splash inside a bucket,

Waiting for the Fish Tank Master

To plop me back into the pool

Where I belong.

♫ Cold ♫ Crossfade ♫

I had been watching the Ideos for months before I finally bought one, and had concluded that touch phones are silly, and that I had no business owning one, since I’ve never had a phone worth more than 2K. Unless it was a gift from my mother. And I sold those – all five of them.

My first date with ED was rather painful, and my agonized tweeting led Saiton to ask me for a list of things I wish I’d known about the Ideos. My list went a little like this:

1. Immediately I put the phone on, it prompted me for my Google password. I keyed it in and got distracted by the high resolution and the pretty colours … and then my airtime was down. I wish someone had warned me to turn off data BEFORE doing anything else.
2. When I asked on Twitter, everyone said, ‘Never surf without a bundle.’ But I had no clue what that even meant. All I did was put on the phone for the first time and next thing I know, all my airtime was gone! I think when you buy the phone, someone should sit with you as you take it out of the box, turn off data, and buy a bundle, THEN explore the phone.
3. Each phone should come with a 999/= bundle so you can play with in peace without worrying. You can figure out your usage and switch to appropriate bundles later. [Or you can install the Juice Defender app that switches data off whenever the screen is daqrk. Thanks Gitts!]
4. How to receive calls and get out of standby. Seriously! I’ve never used a touch phone before, you would not BELIEVE how long I spent staring at the rainbow writing and wondering why it was taking so long to start up.
5. Delivery reports. I need this because my people never answer texts or return missed calls.
6. Which reminds me, how to check and return missed calls.
7. Top ten app suggestions, what I should and shouldn’t dowload.
8. Warn people to be careful how they type. My fingers are fairly slim but I still end up touching the wrong letter so typing passwords is a nightmare.
9. Which leads to … adjusting passwords to suit the Ideos. Mine are long and complicated but I’m considering switching everything to a standard 4-digit name or number.
10. I still can’t figure out how to stop Gmail from accessing my inbox directly. Even with data disabled, clicking on the Gmail icon shows a list of all my emails and I don’t know where to go to disable the thing. [You can solve this by disabling Account Sync by the way.]
11. Battery issues – I’d been warned so I lugged the charger but turns out I can charge it on my laptop. Why did no one tell me this?
12. Importing contacts from the simcard. For two days I couldn’t see my phonebook and I thought I had somehow deleted them. That was really scary. [When you eventually upgrade to a new phone, dowload an app called 'Copy to Sim' from the Android Market. It's better than manually moving your numbers. Gracias Swambi.]
13. Changing desktop backgrounds, coz the default one is really ugly.
14. Explanation of terms for blondes. There are like a million menu options with tick this and tick that and I have no idea what half of them even mean!
15. The touch function is ngumu kiasi, it’s not quite a ‘touch’ like high end phones, you mostly have to press or tap. But I don’t really mind that except for texts and passwords.

Now that I’ve had the Ideos for a while, I no longer have [as many] problems with texts and typing passwords. I learnt a few tricks here and here about how to lengthen battery life, and I keep my Ideos permanently hooked up to my laptop.

It still has some problems though. The touch screen still has issues, and I have to literally pinch the screen to make it work sometimes. Maybe my fingers are sweaty. o_O. I set up a screen lock to keep my email safe, but it consistently blocks me out at the most inopportune moments.

ED likes to drunk dial people. Which means whenever I tap a number on my call log, ED rushes to the number at the top of the log and dials that instead. And no matter how quickly I disconnect the call, it always goes through, which means nobody hears their phone ringing, but hours later they see a missed call for me. Some people have even accused me of being Master Flash. Let me just say I don’t need to flash. I’m on Postpay Bundles now! [They only cost a G per month by the way. Totally worth it]

ED likes to mess my data use as well. He’s always sending tweets when I type DMs, and on more than one occasion, he has sexted the wrong person … including my mother *shudder*. As a result, I have banned myself from naughty SMS. I reserve all such comments for face-to-face encounters, which takes all the fun out of it. *russumfussumsulkandpout*

Another thing ED likes to do is hang for no real reason. He does this at the worst possible times, like when my boss is asking for so-and-so’s phone number, or when I finally get to the front of a half-hour M-PESA queue. That’s another thing ED does. He randomly swallows the Sim Toolkit Menu. It just poofs and disappears from the display, which means I can’t M-PESA! I was told a quick way to get past that is to type ‘Sim Toolkit’ in the Search Window. When he hangs, I have to put him off and on again, then wait ten minutes while he boots up and restarts. Bad idea when you’re standing on a half-hour M-PESA queue. Sigh.

ED has also been known to vibrate for no reason. I think maybe he gets cold. I’ll be in the middle of a phone call and he’ll just start moving. And no, it’s not a call-waiting function. Sometimes, even after I’ve answered the call, he’ll keep shaking like the phone is still ringing. And since the Ideos vibrate function is, you know, audible, the person I’m talking to will wonder if all I’m holding is a cell phone. There’s also the call dropping and the bad reception, but I don’t know if that’s entirely ED’s fault. It could always be random network issues.

Let’s not forget those special times when ED just goes blind. The phone will be ringing, but I can’t take the call because the screen is blank or frozen on a separate menu. Since I can’t see the actual call[er], I can’t click and drag, or answer, or hang up, or do anything but stare and pray. It happened once on Koinange Street. [Stop looking at me like that.] I was waiting for my brothers, and they were driving past, so they called to find out exactly where I was standing. But all I could do was stare at the ringing phone! They finally spotted me and tried to take my temperature because I was standing at a shady corner staring at a noisily gyrating phone.

For a while now, I’ve been thinking of upgrading [to a real phone]. The thing is … it was really hard to buy ED. I was so pained when handing over the money that the saleslady had to yank it from my hands, literally. Forking over another 9K for a phone will be hard! Two, I’ve gotten used to [silly] touch phones, so it’ll be hard to adjust to a thing that I can’t tap. And three, to get a phone of ED’s calibre, I’ll have to spend a lot more than 9K.

Also, ED is really, really pretty, so I’d have to get a phone that looks just like him … but isn’t. Please don’t say Galaxy Mini, because those are two words I can never hear without wanting to sacrifice Facebook. And by sacrifice, I mean make it animate, hack it to bits, impale it with toothpicks, and weka tairi as I dance around it wailing like a maniac.

So … all I need is a palm-sized phone that looks like an Ideos, runs on Android, has a touch screen, isn’t a Samsung, and costs less than 3K. Yeah, and pigs can fly.

I wouldn’t advise you to buy the Ideos, but that isn’t advice anyone will take. If someone had told me not to buy mine, I’d probably have run straight to the shop. When it first came out, people called it the poor man’s iPhone. Never mind that at just under 10K, there’s nothing cheap about it!

Some people bought it because of the deal. After all, there was no other way to get a touch phone under 10K. I hear some people were even ordering it from SA! Plus it runs on Android, so that’s a serious deal. But after everyone and his sister got it, it stopped being the status symbol it once was. Every third person has an Ideos, which kind of takes the star factor out it. And after having it a while, I know it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.

Still, until I can afford to get a phone for 8 10 15K without wailing for three months, me and ED are going to have to keep flossing each other. Plus, any phone I get in that range will be just as bad as an Ideos, so I should probably think 20K or upwards. Meaning my phone would cost more than my rent. *shudder*

I do like a few things about ED. He keeps me occupied in traffic as I read my favourite blogs, and he was a lifesaver before I got my iPod. He’s also handy when I need to check my mail or do some Googling in emergencies. I have to remember to charge him just before I leave the office … and then again when I get home … because when you’re browsing, you’ll be lucky if a full charge lasts an hour! ED has also helped me get some nifty pictures. His resolution isn’t good, but it feels really nice to add a visual to a tweet, and it’s cool for Kodak moments when the AA batteries in the digicam suddenly die.

I’m not glad I bought ED, but I know that if I hadn’t, it may have been years before I ever heard of Android. Or Aldiko. Or Talking Tom Cat. So I suppose the cash spent on ED has done its job, and that’s all the Queen of Technobofia can ask for.

 ♫ Liquid ♫ Jars of Clay ♫

How do you start a conversation on a topic that is practically taboo in a fairly conservative society? Bear in mind that the conversation has to attract as many people as possible and encourage them to discuss and share their experiences.

Population Services International (PSI) has been running a frontline crusade designed to change the sexual practices of the youth by enlightening and encouraging them to engage in safe sex by using contraceptives. Besides introducing affordable contraceptives into the market, PSI is involved in many educational projects including “The C-Word”: an initiative targeted at educating the youth on the various contraceptive options available to them, their merits and shortcomings.

In all its campaigns, PSI seeks to come up with initiatives that rhyme with the youth. As the world goes digital – with the youth riding with the tide – PSI has launched a digital campaign that will drive the youth to pay more attention to the C-Word initiative and help spread the word on safe sexual practices. The aim is to have more young people on Social Media embrace, discuss and share the message of use of contraceptives.

In light of this challenge, Squad Digital came up with a Facebook Iframe that demonstrates the difference between having unprotected and safe sex. The idea was to have a condom that hid parts of a word when rolled up, and reveals the whole word when rolled down (e.g. Amy becomes Chlamydia). Users would then get to share this message with their friends and family on Facebook.

Hit the Iframe and join in the conversation now at: http://www.facebook.com/CwordPSI or join the campaign by re-posting on your blog or website. Using condoms can save your life directly by preventing STIs and STDs, but it could also protect the unplanned life of your unplanned child. Sounds like a concept worth pursuing…

My first instinct was to question the validity of the story. As much as the media is compromised, I still believe The Nation over The Star as a rule. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time The Star had published a story that was slightly less than true. Plus, a woman who was smart enough and accomplished enough to be publicly vetted as a Deputy Chief Justice is no ordinary person. At the very least, she’s smart enough not to go brandishing a firearm in public.

I also wondered exactly how the weapon would have come into play. I mean, we’ve all lost our tempers with security measures, so I can see someone asking a s guard, ‘How dare you frisk me!’ But it makes very little sense to follow that up with ‘Now get on your knees and look at my shiny new gun.’ That would be implausible, even in a Philipino Soap.

It surprised me how quickly the online community was ready to accept the story and begin attacking first the DCJ, then the female population in general. Of course the ladies on Twitter responded with equal anger, which then led the guys to accuse us of double standards. In their opinion, if they don’t get mad when we say ‘All men are dogs’ then we shouldn’t get mad when they say ‘All women in power are crazy’.

My question all this time wasn’t about the gun. I really didn’t think that was valid, plausible, or logical. My worry was more about how easily we accepted the article as truth, and how quickly we turned on the target, and subsequently, on each other. That’s what worried me. It worries me because while only a small percentage of the country is online, we do represent society at large, and if a regular day on Twitter represents a regular day in the world, then I quite hope the Mayans are right.

Incidentally, The Daily Nation has a version of the DCJ ‘gun fiasco’ which explains it was a verbal altercation, and that no guns were involved. In fact, according to the Nation, The DCJ doesn’t even carry a gun. You can read the story here.

This incident brought out some rather interesting debate from highly unlikely quarters. Most people were content to just make jokes. Some people believed in the DCJ’s alleged actions and defended them, saying they have mentally shot many guards themselves. Others said that when Obel shot a matatu driver, he was considered a hero, while the DCJ was villified.

Others said the only reason we were defending the DCJ’s alleged actions was because she’s a woman. Some even equated her alleged actions to Sonko and wondered why he gets flack while Nancy Baraza doesn’t. Never mind that until this morning, Ms Baraza was considered to be immensely more credible than Sonko.

I heard someone say that you should never argue with a watchman, even if you own the building. You simply won’t win. A lot of watchmen and makangas have an innate belief that the world looks down on them, so they try to right that wrong every chance they get. Hence the attitude. I’ve also heard someone say that little bit of power is the high point of their day, so it’s kinder – and faster – to simply let them have it. Plus there’s the little matter of security checks being for our own protection…

Still, as annoying as security guards [and makangas] can be, as a public figure, the DCJ should have known better. She’s human, but since the day of her appointment, she’s also public property, which means her actions hold a lot of weight. If a regular woman had thrown a bitch fit at a security guard, she may have been called names and possibly locked in a store for a few hours. But as the DCJ, Nancy Baraza’s response to the security guard not only became falsified national news, it may also put her credibility in question. Since she is in charge of a large docket that includes the New Constitution, a lot of important issues could get scuttled by that one quick decision.

The sad thing is that now every time we look at Nancy Baraza, we will think of Rebecca Morara on her knees with a gun. It doesn’t matter how many retractions will be issued or what Ms Morara’s intentions were – the damage has been done. She could have been genuinely afraid and aggrieved, or she could have been a pawn in a much grander scheme, but Rebecca Morara has opened a box much larger than Pandora’s.

Plus, every time a woman in power makes a faux pas, she makes it that much harder for women everywhere to get into authority. I heard an interesting joke in the Axis of Evil Comedy Tour. The joke said the main difference between white people and Middle Eastern people is that white people don’t suffer as a group when one of their members does something bad. One white guy goes on a shooting rampage and it dies there, but one Middle Easterner blows himself up and all Muslims are suddenly viewed with suspicion. It’s the same with women. One man does an idiotic thing and it passes, but one prominent woman hits a Vitz and it’s ‘All women are bad drivers’. Makes it harder to build up credibility. I’m not a feminist, but I admit that I’ve benefitted from the fights of my sisters. So it’s sad that any time a woman makes a bad call, the ’cause’ is taken several steps back.

Kenyans are funny. We forget things very quickly. In a few days, something else will happen and we’ll forget all about the Village [Market] and the gun. But actions have consequences, and this incident has long-term repurcussions for the Office of the Deputy Chief Justice as an institution. And as for Kenyans on Twitter, I don’t suppose we’ll ever learn, but it would be good if we could gather all the facts before we get that tweet on.

♫ Love the way you lie ♫ Eminem ft Rihanna ♫