So I found my windchimes – muchos gracias to KP and this lady here.

I went with the Nakumatt junction option, and they claimed to have no idea what windchimes were [groan]. But since KP had bought his there, I gave him an in-store call and he directed me to the exact coordinates of said dangling bell thingies.

They have a lovely selection, but they were all either too masculine or too fancy, and I wanted something in red.

Yes, windchimes can be masculine. Think undecorated hollow pipes[though they produce the most amazing sounds].

The only red they had was a tiny flowery one and a shrine to valentine’s day. That thing had more red hearts than a **insert appropriate simile here**. So what I did is I bought the two red ones, attacked them with a pair of scissors, and ended up with something I could hang in my house. And as a bonus, Princess got about a hundred red beads shaped like hearts. Yay! **DIFJ**

[Incidentally, the other Nakumatts probably had them too, since the Junction attendant had no clue what I was talking about!]

Then yesterday I was early for a date so I passed by Enka Rasha as advised. They have the prettiest windchimes in everything from butterflies to dolphins to seashells, wooden, metallic, girly, boy-y, and all at such fair prices. Me like!

Now all I need is an hour glass. I’m going to browse Enka Rasha a little more next time I’m in town. They look like having hourglasses.

Next project … does anyone know where I can get a typewriter?

♫ Unwell ♫ Matchbox Twenty ♫

I don’t know what it is about these Rwandan women.

Back in Dar, we had this neighbour kid. She had to be, what, twelve? Fifteen at most; she didn’t even have proper … rib-padding yet. But when she walked, you just couldn’t help staring.

Here was a tall, polite, pre-pubescent girl in an extremely unflattering school uniform, but you still couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s tall [er than me. At 12! And I’m 5’6!!] , light, graceful, and when she walks I swear I hear music playing … and I’m straight!

Yesterday I saw another one. She was full grown, 5’8, semi-light-skinned with glasses and a bob. She was wearing a blue v-neck t-shirt, pedals, and strappy sandals, nothing remarkable. But she had style and those Rwandese hips.

This girl walked like a cat. I don’t mean she was cat-walking in the choreographed way of trained models, no. She was just strolling, off-guard, yet she could have put any beauty queen to shame. Yaani her walk is just sheer grace. I glanced at her once as I walked past, then looked again, trying not to be too impolite. I noted that she looked good, in an effortless, unpolished kind of way, then walked on.

But then I noticed a few watchmen literally breaking their necks as she passed. You know that thing wolf-cartoons do where the eyes are glued to a person and the neck swivels trying not to break contact? They were doing that.

A few metres away I noticed some … people having the same reaction. Except these people were girls. One girl had actually stopped and turned to watch Ms Rwanda even though she was now almost 100 metres away.

What can I say, the girl had presence. They call it je ne sais quoi sijui X-Factor sijui nini-nini. They say it can’t be described, but that you know it when you see it.

Me, I saw it, and I know it.

And the coolest part is she didn’t even know it. She was just strolling along minding her own business, totally unaffected, with her handsfree thingies [or possibly an ipod] in her ears.

Ai, kweli huyo, ameumbika.

In less jaw-dropping news, is it just me or that billboard, the Fanta one, the one where a guy and a girl are sharing a drink out of one bottle using two straws [there’s one on Mbagathi roundabout and another on valley road] … is it just me or is the Fanta in that bottle yellow?

♫ The animal [cannon ball] song ♫ Savage Garden ♫