Posted on by crystal · 10 Comments

The mourning after

funny-ants-weed-leaf-walk

I don’t generally drink. It’s not that I have anything against alcohol – besides thinking beer tastes like piss. It’s that I’m what you call a sad drunk. Also, my drink of choice is Baileys, and I have lactose issues. So after a night of liquid chocolate sipping, I end up with nasty moods and cramps. Not really worth it.

Still, every once in a while – usually when mwaura is around and my princess is not – I indulge myself in a bottle of Baileys and a big pack of Buscopan. I lock myself inside my house, sip on the bottle till it’s done, down a handful of cramp medicine, and go to sleep.

Recently, I’ve been on a bit of a bender emotionally. It saw me taking princess to the shooting range last Saturday. Story for another day. When shooting fifty .22s into a cardboard target didn’t improve my mood, I thought I’d try a little weed.

Finding said weed proved tricky. You see, I have a lot of friends who smoke the royal reefer. But … they all see me as a holy joe, so just like the time I wanted cigarettes, they all refused to corrupt me. And just like the time I wanted cigarettes, I ended up procuring a handful for myself. Hint: Google helped. Facebook did too.

Weed in Nairobi

Being me, I went on Googling binge to find the right way to smoke. Videos and articles said pace yourself, drink a lot of water, watch out for red eyes, and try not to giggle like an idiot. More searches suggested I would likely get really, really hungry, so I should have some snacks on hand, and possibly some coffee. I don’t drink coffee.

There were suggestions on whether to inhale and exhale through nose or mouth, how long to hold the air inside my lungs, and even how to mask the weedy smell. (Axe was frequently recommended). I had some Jasmine incense sticks in the house (what) so I lit those up instead.

All the searches had said it was common for first-timers to cough, so I was very proud of myself when I didn’t. The first few puffs didn’t do a whole lot, though I noticed that each breath was different. Some inhalations tickled my lungs in a rough, unpleasant way, like someone was scratching my insides with a feathery stick. Some breaths bothered my nose like they were poking around inside it with a much sharper stick. Other inhalations felt fresh and empty.

My theory is that my blunts combined raw bhang with ordinary grass. Or maybe the potency depended on how I took the whiff, because some tutorials said to keep your lips slightly parted and inhale plenty of oxygen with every puff. Something about the mixture of air and cannabis making it easier to absorb into your blood stream.

rainbowpotleaf

One of the weeder guides gave a minute by minute breakdown of what you might experience on a high. Light headedness, euphoria, well-being, paranoia, and etc. and etc. And, of course, urban legend states there are only three ways you can react to herb. You can get extremely hungry, extremely sleepy, or extremely horny.

(Dis)armed will this information I started my epic journey. And because I had read all the symptoms, I experienced every one of them. Self-fulfilling prophesy I suppose. It started with a buzz – the pleasant feeling that I imagine people get when they’re tipsy. I noticed I was dancing a lot, something I don’t usually do, and smiling at my reflection – because there was no one else to smile at.

abstract-hypnotizing-twirl-beautiful-rainbow-colors-38417681For some reason, I couldn’t keep still. Something in me was always spinning round. My head, my hands, the sofa … I tried sitting motionless and staring at the TV. But then the TV started moving in circles as well. It’s like the whole world was one dizzy merry-go-round. When I got enough bodily control to stop the spinning, I started swaying forwards and back, then side to side like a compass. Strange, because I was still sitting down.

Then I felt this hippie-dippie love for everything in existence from my lampshade to my toothpaste. If there had been people around me, I would probably have run around the room hugging everyone and chanting for world peace.

Then I got hungry, so I went to the fridge and ate … something … I can’t quite remember what. After a while, I had the feeling I was surrounded by people I couldn’t see. I could hear their footsteps, smell their scents, and share their conversations. It took a while to realise that my senses were heightened, and that what I was hearing and smelling were my neighbours and the revelers outside. It was an oddly disturbing feeling, like having a set of really useless superpowers.

Heroes-parkman

Then … and this was the fun part … I got extremely … stimulated. Since I was on my own, I’ll just say I had a very happy ending, and that I’ll be very, very careful which guys are in my space when I inhale my next spliff. because. things. escalate. quickly.

Once I was sated, the cycle started again. Chill zone. Euphoria. Hippie hugs. Hungry. Horny. And on and on and on for about three hours, at which point I went to sleep and had minor repetitions of the cycle in my dreams.

I remember thinking I’d never been so happy in my life, and wondering why something this good would be illegal. Like seriously, why aren’t more people smoking weed? Then I remember feeling really sad, because I couldn’t be this happy all the time unless I stayed high 247. Then I tried to calculate how much it would cost to have a toke every day, and whether I could sustain those levels of goofiness.

I got onto my laptop at this point, looking up side effects of weed. I figured there had to be some reason why people were against it. I never found those reasons, because I ended up on Facebook, giggling manically at every single item on my timeline. Luckily, I didn’t weed-dial anybody. Phew!

Weed dialling

Also … how do people smoke blunts until the bottom without burning their lips? I tried using a straw to keep the heat off my tongue, but it just ended up melting, and I didn’t want to let go of the stubb because it still had so much leaf! I ended up pouring the stem onto an ash-tray, lighting it, and sniffing the fumes direct.

When I realised I’d have to be up early the next day, I wobbled my way to bed. I kept thinking this must be what it feels like to be a good drunk, to have happy, carefree feelings without the drama, the sadness, or the hangover. Then I wondered why I could so acutely smell every scent in the building yet I couldn’t smell the actual weed. Hopefully that meant the incense and open windows had dispelled it.

My baby came in the next day and wondered why the bathroom smelled funny. So we had a little talk about pot and drugs and responsibility. Of course she ended up talking more than me, because TV and the internet. Also, she likes Two Broke Girls, and they know much more about ganja than I do.

I felt a little woozy, like my mind wasn’t all there, like I wasn’t functioning at full capacity. There was a vague mist before my eyes, and this foggy airy feeling in my mind. I couldn’t really focus on conversations, and I seemed to forget things the second I heard them. Also, for some inexplicable reason, I felt really, really sad.

eeyore

Naturally, I went to ask Google what was up, and found a bunch of articles about weed hangovers and the process of coming down from the high. Great. Just great. A lot of pieces on the net say that weed is not addictive, and that you can’t overdose on it. I once had a really bad trip on weed-cream-cookies, so I can’t be too sure about that no-overdose theory. Still, I only had one blunt. It shouldn’t be this bad.

I suppose it’s a lot like my non-tolerance for alcohol. I guess the kind of chemistry that makes a sad drunk can also make the post-weed morning a blue and dreary one. And, I suppose, just like hair of the dog, it would make you want to light another toke and get that feel-good vibe again.

People also say that weed is a gateway drug. Many smokers and cookie-nibblers deny it. After all, weed makes you so mellow and chilled out while other drugs … don’t. But on a logical level, I can see myself wondering, asking myself … if reefer feels this good, then what about crack, or meth, or heroin?

My trip into the weed-world was short and abrupt, and the sadness I felt from the come-down means I won’t be revisiting it soon. I keep hearing that line from Blank Spaces by Taylor Swift. You can tell me when it’s over if the high was worth the pain. For me, it simply wasn’t, so it’s back to milk-free ice cream, chocolate, and 90s rock.

♫ Pardon me ♫ Incubus ♫

 

Posted on by crystal · 7 Comments

Breathing in dark spaces

I was talking to a blogger once, and he said what he hates about blogging is the comments. Not that he hates comments in themselves – bloggers love comments. What he hates is the content of comments. Because sometimes, the comments tell you that your readers missed your point. They read, yes, they liked, yes, they responded, yes, but not in the way you wanted them to. They heard what they wanted to hear, not what you were actually saying.

I argued that all writing is like that, even songs. A man writes a song about a dog and his girl decides the song is about her. For example, I know people who are convinced this song is about drugs. And I suppose it could be. Except when I first heard this singer, it was on a gospel station, so I’ve always assumed the song is about God. To that, my blogger pal said sure, but with a blog, people tell you what they think immediately, and sometimes, knowing you haven’t been heard can really hurt.

I bumped into a post over at Biko’s. He starts by introducing his friend, Wanjiru, who has recently resumed writing. In his starting paragraphs, Biko says all good writing comes from dark spaces, just like heartbreak songs. He then includes a pretty good piece by Wanjiru, all about instagram, exercise, and people getting fat.

Manny Ice Age
I’m not fat. It’s all this fur. It makes me look poofy.

In the comments, people rightly praised Wanjiru’s writing, because they could relate to it. It was a light, easy read, and they felt she understood them, that she was one of them. Her story touched people, as good writing should. It made a serious point, but made people laugh in the process. If you haven’t already, go over there and read it.

Something came up in the comments though. A few readers latched onto Biko’s comment about darkness breeding the best prose, and they asked him if he was happy, since he’s such a good writer. One commenter even said if misery was the source of his talent, then she kind of hoped he’d never be happy.

I’ve heard this kind of sentiment before. I was listening to Linkin Park with a friend, and we were comparing their earlier music to the stuff they do today. He said every time he hears ♫ Crawling ♫, he wants to walk up to Chester and ask, ‘Who hurt you?’ And then he wants to find that person and make them re-hurt Chester, so that we can hear that quality of music again.

Ed Sheeran sees it a little differently. He said in an interview that he writes the kind of songs that women listen to while crying and eating ice cream. True. He also says he’s a really happy person, because he pours all his sadness into his songs, and once the mood is out of his system, he feels great.

ed sheeran

 

I suppose it helps that people love the songs and pay mad money for his concerts – that would lift anybody’s mood. That’s not the only thing though, since lots of rich, successful musicians and rock stars end up drugged, miserable, and dead…

I think both Ed and Biko are onto something. I think that dark space inside us can produce deep, haunting, beautiful pieces of art and writing. But I also think there’s a danger in wallowing in that space. Chimamanda says there’s a certain awe – almost an admiration for depression in art. I recognise that feeling, because for the longest time, I held on to depression. I felt it was vital to my identity, that without it, I would no longer be … me.

But as I begin to heal and acquire coping mechanisms, I realise that you can be in that space for a while, then you can leave. It’s like a room in your house – your writing room maybe. And you can walk into it, do your best work, then lock the door and walk out into the sunshine. Gifted genius(es?) don’t have to be tortured.

So no, you don’t have to be Edgar Allen Poe or Van Gogh to be brilliant. You don’t have to write beautiful books, create haunting paintings, or sing heart-rending songs then shoot yourself or drop dead from sheer misery. Yes, you can pick up a pen or a keyboard when the black dog attacks, and use that hole to inspire sacred works.

Luka Sulic

Then … put down your pencil, lock up your instrument, shut down your computer, close your book, clean your paintbrush, go have some milk-free ice cream. You can use the evil in the world – and the darkness in your soul – to inspire art and gifted writing. You just don’t have to use it to inspire your life … or catalyse your death.

♫ Free ♫ Rudimentals ♫

Posted on by crystal · 4 Comments

iTax si rahisi

I’m all about digital. I never do in person what I can do on my laptop or my phone. Except that. That, I still prefer to do in person. So when I heard about iTax, I was pretty excited. No lines, no security wands, no flimsy papers, just a log-in, an upload, and I’m done, yay! Except it didn’t quite work out that way.

Last year, I tried for weeks to file my taxes online, but I could never get the system to agree. It was always crashing or timing out or questioning my math skills. Yes, I know I suck at arithmetic, but surely, anyone can add 111 and 2 with a calculator.

Hesabu Ngumu KRA

After several weeks of trying, I gave up and filed my returns in person. Okay, that’s a lie. A pretty boy from accounting helped me do it. He was doing the office returns anyway, so he offered to help me with mine, then delivered it Times Towers three minutes before the deadline. Accountants are so cool … sometimes.

This year, I was feeling independent, so I didn’t go to any boy accountants. At least, not at first. Three nights ago, I got my P9 from HR and happily logged on to itax.kra.go.ke. Four hours later, I was exhausted but excited. I had finally got the damn thing to work, filed my own returns and everything! I even got the promise of a 60K refund from my government. Epic win! But then I had this exchange on Twitter.

iTax Twitter

It made me a little nervous, so I asked around the office to see if anyone else had the same problem. Turns out one of my friends had just come from KRA to a pay 75K penalty. Uh-oh. When you have life insurance, the government gives 15% tax relief up to a maximum of 5K. For some reason, when you file online, the system automatically gives you 5K. Then later, you have to deduct your actual 15% and pay the difference. Throw in a year’s interest and you end up owing KRA 75 ngwanyes.

I have life insurance. So when I filled my forms, in the space that said, ‘Do you have life insurance?’ I ticked, ‘Yes.’ Hence the promise of a 60K refund. Thing is … my insurance started in January 2015 … and the returns I filed were for 2014. So the tax relief doesn’t kick in until next June. Plus, I had jotted information from the wrong column, and had put in the wrong bank account, because, you know, 60K refund.

iTax Poster 2

Anyway, I logged back in the next night to see if I could change my wrong details. The amendment form only allowed me to change my basic information i.e location, bank account etc. So I did that and got a slip confirming they had gotten my amendment request. Trouble is, I still needed to correct the actual figures, as well as my (lack of) insurance information.

Let’s back up a bit. When I filling out my profile, I had to key in my P.O.Box, post code, district, and tax area. I filled in my district as Lang’ata, but when I typed in my post code, the automated system changed my area to Dandora. Apparently, my physical post office is in Uhuru Gardens, but my digital mail goes Huko D…

While I was doing my bank amendments, I was asked to key in my district and tax region again. Except this time, the only available options were Nairobi East, Nairobi West, and Nairobi North. (Um … isn’t Lang’ata somewhere closer to Nairobi South?) I chose Nairobi West, it being the closest to where I live … but once again, on keying in my post code, I was sent back to Dandora.

Haya. Now that my details were correct(?) I had to figure out how to change the actual … figures … and to un-tick the life insurance section. I went to the e-amends section and found the page to upload my amended form. Except I can’t do the amendment because my previous amendment is pending and will take – according to accounts – two weeks. At which point the tax window will be closed, so while I can still file my amendment, I will likely be penalised for filing a late return. *groan*

Now, let’s talk about the tax form itself. It’s an excel download that jumps from section A to section F to section M to section Q to section T. I don’t know where the missing pages are, or whether their absence makes any difference. When I filled the forms the first time, it computed a refund of 60K. Well, okay, 58,867.19999999995. That was because of the life insurance.

Since the actual amendment form had no pages for monetary correction, I downloaded the original form, and at the top, I selected ‘amended’ instead of ‘original’. Sawa. I filled the form a second time, with lots of help from our head of finance and another friend at the office. He has filed his tax online in the past (and ended up paying a 75K penalty, so I figured he knew how to, you know, not incur a 75K penalty.) Please note that this was happening at my house between 8.30 and 12.30 p.m., which means any help I got was via phone.

shutterstock_233875318

 

Ehe, after filling the form a second time, the computation said I owed my governement 15,345.76. How now? I made more calls, filled it a third time, and now KRA claimed I owe them 1,559. At that point, I was sleepy, running out of airtime, and feeling really stupid. And I hate feeling stupid. We concluded it was best that I go to accounts in the morning and ask a pretty boy to help me out. Haya.

So next morning, with my pride in my shoes and my laptop in my hands, I went over to finance. The nice boy in charge of taxes came to work a bit later that usual, so I tried to fill the forms by myself. Again.

The first time – or rather the fourth time, since I had filled it three times the night before – the debit balance was 1,559. The sixth time, the balance went to 3 bob. Well, okay, 3.68. By now I was more frazzled than ever, because, among other things, which one is debit and which one is credit? Googling left me even more confused, so by the time the tax guy reached the office, I was a total damsel in distress. Have I mentioned I hate feeling stupid?

I tried showing him the forms that I had already filled … except for some reason, the files had saved themselves as blank forms. WTF?!? So we started from scratch and he took me through the process. Turns out the computation had an error. (Yay! It wasn’t my fault!) The first try gave us 1,559, the second try gave us 3.68, and he showed me the exact place where the government calculator had got it wrong.

Bug report

Okay. So now that all the numbers were finally adding up (although I still owe the government 3 bob, which with interest will probably morph into several hundred thousands) we tried to upload the now amended form. Except … my previous bank amendment is still pending … and I can’t upload my now corrected form until my previous amendment is done. **pulling hair**

And so … in conclusion, I’m supposed to write a cheque to my government for three shillings and sixty-eight cents, because the calculator on the iTax site turns out to be worse at math than me. Of course I already knew that, because refer to Image 1. And I can’t correct its math because according to the files currently in my tax system, my government owes me 60K. If they ever pay me said 60K, they will then request I pay it back with interest, because they weren’t supposed to pay me in the first place.

iTax Poster

Next year, I will qualify for an insurance refund. If the systems remain as they are, I might just receive that 60K tax relief, but then I will incur a penalty – with interest – because the actual tax relief I’m owed is only 18K. So … after spending more than fifteen hours on that KRA site and still not managing to do my taxes right, here’s what needs to happen for iTax to actually work.

(a) A for-dummies type tutorial that does not require queueing at Prestige or T-Mall. Preferably in video format, and even more preferably, online.

(b) Said tutorial needs to show you how to fill tax forms correctly, not just how to log in and log out and where to find the forms. Because filling those things isn’t as easy as KRA (and professional accountants) seem to think. For one thing, that P9 form is for the devil (#Riswa!) and for another, even accountants take a 3-month course in taxes before they can fill said forms in minutes.

(c) For the (mashinani) people without home and/or office internet, a regularly and consistently repeated road show complete with dancers, Eric Omondi, live demos, and multiple computers, so that citizens can file taxes on site.

(d) For the love of all that is holy, fix those bloody bugs!

I understand that iTax isn’t for everyone. Hell, TAX isn’t for everyone – just ask your resident MP! So if for some reason you don’t want to deal with KRA, ignore this blog post, which you probably haven’t read anyway. But for those of us idiots holy-joes goodie-goodies hyperactive conscience types (mostly) law-abiding citizens that do want to file our returns online, stop making it so damn difficult!

♫ Burn ♫ Elle Goulding ♫