Posted on by crystal · 119 Comments

Love is fickle

I’ve always kept notebooks where I write random nonsense. The stuff in my notebooks ranges from budgets and book lists to movie quotes and song lyrics. Sometimes, I write love poems in my notebooks, then once I’ve gathered enough of them, I use them for a real book. But I only write poetry when I’m stressed, depressed, or in love. Anyone who know me knows my best work is inspired when I’m deep in all three.

This morning, I was looking through one of my old notebooks, and I bumped into this…

My deepest ache begets my broadest smile

as far inside I crumble.

I long to hear your gentle voice

when here in truth I stumble.

For you I shed a lonesome tear

yet salt, she flows ecstatic,

For in your absence is no fear

but longing, full and drastic.

You are my joy, you are my pain,

in both, my ache is equal.

I laugh so much I often cry,

yet still demand a sequel.

[*Editor’s note: there I have lied, that doesn’t  even rhyme*]

To love you hurts…

I wouldn’t trade that for all the world.

You don’t just kill me softly, you kill me with silence.

I miss you. Please call me.

Now here’s the thing. I have no idea who I wrote that poem for. I can’t even remember writing it. Maybe I got it out of a book or something, but I highly doubt that. The date on the poem says 10th November 2009, 10.38 a.m. Hmm.

I consider myself a romantic, and each time I love, I love truly and deeply. But then again, I also crush on almost every guy I meet, and I get over relationships fairly fast … except of course for this one. This one took me over a month to heal.

Still, if I can love so deep and so often, I wonder if I really love at all. And if I can’t remember him two years later, then poetry or no poetry, he can’t have meant that much to me. It makes me pity all the men I’ll ever love. Will I recall my feelings for them two years down the line?

Posted on by crystal · 342 Comments

On the issue of tipping

There’s a guy in the neighbourhood who washes the cars in the morning. He’s a really old guy, and he’s really friendly. Generally, I don’t talk to people unless they talk to me first [or unless the conversation is online]. Out in the ‘real’ world, I often let people make the first approach. I got friendly with him because he’d say hi at 6.00 a.m. as I walked into the gym. We’ve never said more than good morning, but it’s now pretty much routine.

Two days into 2011, he said a few more words. He hinted that I hadn’t given him his New Year. Please note that he doesn’t work for me, I don’t know his name, and I don’t even own a car … yet. I was put off, but I was in a good mood, so I laughed it off and walked on. I’m surprised I didn’t frown or look embarrassed.

It reminded me of my watchman in Dar. When I was moving house, he demanded a tip. I was going to give him one anyway, but I was offended that he asked, especially as it was a company house, and the reason I was moving is that I was no longer eligible for staff housing. I had explained all this clearly, but in his mind, I was Kenyan, and I was raising a baby on my own, ergo, I must have money.

Conversely, the guy at School Outfitters was courteous, fun, and respectfully flirty. I bought uniforms late due of a late-clearing cheque. That meant I couldn’t take princess with me for fitting, as she was already in school. I had to guesstimate her size using a complex algorithm which involved her height, her shoe size, her weight in pounds … and buying three sizes larger than last year. So I went to the shop armed with … last year’s receipts. Sharp, yes?

When the guy recognized his handwriting from last year, he bantered a lot more, gave advice on silicone swimming caps … and asked for soda after. I gladly gave it to him. Maybe it was the way he asked, or maybe he’s just a really good flirt. His Muindi boss was furious … and I hope it’s not offensive to call him a Muindi Boss. iCon?

All this made me think about waitresses, bag boys, and all the other workers in the tip-based industry. I’ve always felt rather begrudging about people who ask to be tipped for doing their jobs. Isn’t that why you draw a wage?

I’m reminded of the debate at the beginning of Reservoir dogs. Not the Madonna debate, though that’s my favourite part of the movie. I mean the next debate, the one about the bill. Mr Pink says he doesn’t do tips, and Mr White says the waitresses need tips because it’s how they survive. Their salary is way too low to live on.

Here’s my question. Managers decide waiters’ salaries based on the assumption that they’ll be tipped. That’s why – if sitcoms are to be trusted – tips are part of culture in some places. It’s like part of the bill or something, No thought, no argument, no reasoning … it’s just something you do. Still, do we tip because the wages are low, or are the wages low because we tip? Who’s the chicken and who’s the egg? Also, who decided waitresses should be tipped and hairdressers shouldn’t? How come no one ever thinks to tip their dentist or their shoe shine guy, or even their house help? Aren’t they all low paying jobs?

Well maybe not the dentist, but you get my point. Who decided the hierarchy of tipping?

I suppose after a while, you stop fighting it and go with the flow, just like Mr Pink did in the movie. I don’t issue tips out of habit. I give it if you were really nice to me, or if I don’t feel like carrying the change. I’ve never tipped more than 50 bob, and I was amazed to see a lady tip a G at Java, seeing as that cost way more than my entire meal. Still it was Java Gigiri, and the air is slightly different there. I think it’s all the trees.

Kharma is a funny b*tch, and she’ll probably make a me a waitress in my next life, just to prove a point. But until then, I’m going to wonder why some careers demand tips and others don’t.

I’ll close with an urban legend I heard about Grand Regency [or whatever it’s calling itself now]. A client was calculating what to give as a tip when he was forewarned [the legend doesn’t say by who] …

“Don’t bother. He probably earns more than you do.”

Posted on by crystal · 107 Comments

Exposé on the Internet

 

Us Kenyans on Twitter are a scary bunch. Long before the Trey Songz and Actual Expert sagas, there was some uproar on Twitter because @shikolaptop twitpicced @kaytrixx payslip. As a result, Kenyans on Twitter ganged up and turned #Shikolaptop into a trending topic. The wording was anything but friendly.

Because I use Twitter Web rather than applications, it took a while to figure out what was going on. Apparently, Kaytrixx was changing employers, and it was rumoured that the reason was money. Shikolaptop decided to post the payslip to refute the rumours. It seems she’s some kind of accountant. The rest is dirty laundry.

The offending twitpic was eventually taken down, so I have no clue of the figures involved. It seems people were mad at Shiko for exposing dude’s earnings – that’s quite a guarded secret in Kenya. Personally, I’ll issue bank statements to anyone who asks – as long as we’re not related – so I don’t see what the big deal is. Still, it made me wonder about internet privacy.

Usually, when I’m doing a blog post, I use Google to find images. I’ve never given much thought to copyright and things like that. I know that my blog isn’t commercial. I use it to display my skills and wares, and that indirectly brings me business. But I don’t get paid for the blog itself. Based on that reasoning, I assume that no one will sue me for using their photos.

I know some may argue with that reasoning, but I function on the same principle. I don’t mind people using my work, as long as they:

(a) don’t plagiarize

(b) don’t get paid for it

I put it up for free, so no one else should earn money from it.

I suppose it’s a little harder for pictures, because they don’t always come with bylines. You can’t always tell where it came from and who took it, especially if you got it off Google.

When I first wrote this post two months ago, I wanted a picture on KCPE. I got this image of a pretty girl named Sharon Wanjiru, and there were full credits to the photographer, James Njuguna. I wanted to use the picture, but I was uneasy – it seemed too close to home. How sure am I that the girl’s parents won’t read the post and try to sue me, or that James won’t claim non-existent royalties?

I thought about the other pictures I use. They’re usually random shots of strange kids in cute poses. I assume that they’re models, and that they wouldn’t mind the exposure, but who’s to say their parents don’t see shots on blogs and look for lawyers? Where’s the line?

[It’s like the argument I use to torrent movies, books, and rock, yet I’d never pirate local films or music. Weird.]

Another assumption is if it’s on the internet, it’s free to use. After all, if you didn’t want it used, it wouldn’t be online, right?

Well, here’s the thing. My … relatives … have a talent for stealing pictures. I don’t know how we do it [or why] but if you enter any of our houses, you’ll find baby photos people shouldn’t have. I personally have infant pictures of my grandparents, and they given weren’t willingly. Hence, our albums are padlocked with combination lockers – just in case the ‘models’ try to take their photos back.

In the digital age, it’s even easier. I’ve made an album of my nieces and nephews [I have like 50 of them] simply by raiding my relatives’ Facebook pages. Granted the pictures are under tight security, and not just anyone can view them, but if I could access the shots so easily, anyone can.

I took up the task for family reasons, but I could do it with rivals, bosses, or even exes. Combine that with some soap opera tactics and a lot of damage could be done. Before you know it, interesting pictures from your boyfriend’s profile could end up in a national daily … or a stranger’s blog. *shudder*

Where’s the line? When is it okay to download, save, copy, and paste … and when is it not? What does this mean for photographer’s livelihoods or babies’ birthday parties?

I suppose the logical thing to do is not to post any pictures online. I’m consoled that my Facebook shots are private, but they can still be accessed by a friend of a friend of a friend, and of course once the pictures are tagged, all bets are off, yes?

Plus … what happens when you’re unfriended and the pictures are still on their hard drive? How do I know that my personal pictures aren’t showing up Google images under ‘free for all’?

I think I’ll be more careful about finding out where pictures are from and attributing them, even if it’s only with a url caption. It could save some baby’s privacy, and it’s way cheaper than getting a lawyer.

PS: Please don’t hotlink. Decent attribution is one thing, but stealing bandwidth is just not cool.