3CB

When I woke up this morning, I was exhausted. I’m not really sure why, since a blackout sent me to bed very early last night. Every morning, I get up at 4.00, do my Zumba for a bit over an hour, get my baby ready, and walk her to school before I head out to work. Some mornings, like today, I skip the Zumba part and sleep in for an extra hour instead. It really depends on how tired I am.

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 ♫

Sometime last year, I received a letter from my landlord. It informed me that the whole building would be switching to Prepaid electricity, and that Kenya Power technicians would come and install all the necessary equipment. I didn’t mind the idea because I spent a few years living and working in Dar es Salaam where everyone uses LUKU. LUKU is short for Lipa Umeme Kadri Utumiavyo. What happens is that you buy a set number of units, load your electricity meter, and voila, light! It’s kind of like loading airtime on your cell phone. In fact, it’s better, because once you get a LUKU card, you simply swipe the card on your meter and you’re good to go.

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?

Yesterday, I watched a video that made me happy. So happy, in fact, that I cried. Not that tears are particularly unusual for me. I often cry when I laugh, and that is unusual because I can laugh very quietly. It’s a trick I learned from @Mama_Tboy in high school. We used to giggle and private jokes and we’d get in trouble if we got caught, so we learned to laugh without making a sound. It’s really quite interesting to watch.

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 ♫