Antipathy towards Sports.

First and foremost thank you all for wishing me a happy blogversary wishes. Hope you enjoyed the party and the food with lots of soft drinks. Thank you for the gifts and the cards and for turning up.

Some of you made requests which we shall get down to.

Milo had requested a post on irritations in the movie theatre and TeeJay requested a post about the new JAMES BOND:both have been covered-at Couch ‘tato Blog (It is hard work trying to promote 2 blogs I’m telling you)
Msanii-who was taking sometime out to decompress made it back in time and asked for a post on my antipathy to sports.
Akiey the picture-guy and Afromusing were musing over the thought of me posting a pic of myself.
Kipepeo batted her lashes and fluttered her wings asked for a re-edited earlier post…
Haidhuru challenged me to post assuming I was posting anonymously…hmm that’s a good one ebu u guys invite me to post on your blogs as yourselves incognito.

So let’s work on Msanii’s first as I get a suitable pic to post very soon of none other than me!

Antipathy towards sports.

Oxford defines antipathy as deep seated aversion or dislike and it defines sport as a game or competitive activity especially an outdoor one involving physical exertion.

In my defense, in my younger, less self-conscious days, I loved taking part in sports. I was all pro-sports. I was drawn to it like kids were to my Break container!
But it turned out you needed more than a good spirit to be accepted by your peers/p.e teachers. I was fat and proud. I’d like to send a big shout out to all my peeps at ‘ENORMOUS ANONYMOUS.’ I was not fat in a bad way-not that kind of obesity but I wasn’t the fastest/quickest or lightest for that matter. But just as heavy as I was, I was heavy in team spirit and determination. I never gave up. I was jolly, saw the humor in many a scenario…and I kept on going. I was the fat little engine that could... Wouldn’t forget to carry my P.E costume- Go RED HOUSE!!!! and my Power Shoes. I was always all set to go…the mind, body and soul were willing-but nature was against me!

Where do we begin?

Teams:When it came to picking teams…and we’d start with two captains…for some reason I would end up getting picked last. Did I mention that the adidas that we were playing with was mine?! At that time, thank God, I had no self esteem and I’d always keep coming back for more insults. So guys would play the ball, I’d get chengwad, no one would pass the ball to me…but at least they had a good time! Even when i was told to seat by the sidelines...and enjoy the game-i was all for it! Same time the following day i'd carry the football and...

Cops and Robbers:In time, I realized my participation in sports was also a source of amusement for others. I had mentioned earlier how when playing Cops and robbers: the girls would always come to catch the easiest target-practically come giggling and skipping -totally effortless...and then guys would show off their flighty skills as they accomplished daring maneuvers while rescuing the solo prisoner in jail. I think everyone was ok with that arrangement. The whole game was basically “Let’s go catch ‘Nyama’” and “Let’s go save ‘Nyama’”
And I’d get saved and run off helter skelter hoping to one day save my victor…and off I'd go running terribly fast with the determination of a freed slave..tasting freedom with new found hopes and dreams... only to be caught 7steps later.

Shake. Middle Line was a no-no for me…and damn it was the best line. I was always let to hold the last line. Of course when we lost somehow it happened to be my fault. Oh and when it was our turn to play- I’d get the privilege of shaking the hand and would receive stern instructions not to enter. So I’d chill there...then decide what the hell… Only to hear “3 in a box you’re out” Yup, my bad!

3sticks. Being the considerate people my friends were, they would use me as the yardstick for measurement. So I’d jump and set the limits for the game…and they’d start from there. The dumb thing was having set those boundaries myself; for sure you know I couldn’t jump further than that! But they were gracious to allow me to jump 2-3more steps while the rest jumped just the twice.

I’m telling you I learnt the art of being accommodated into every game. From being given head starts. Excuses being made for me…

Football: I was defender of choice. One cause I’d kick the ball as far as I could when it got to me. And it didn’t involve much risk. I’d just stay there with the goalkeeper and just pass time. Heck he’d reassure me not to worry. However when the goal was scored: either I had distracted the goalie or didn’t defend!


Train-Train: Where you have like 15 or so boys in train formation. You would wrap you sweater round the boy in front of you and hold the sweater by the sleeves. And the head of the train would then run in different directions and the goal was to keep up and not let go off the sweater. So every corner he turned at whatever speed you had to be there. Is that enough orientation now back to my problems….I could never be the head because I was too slow. I could never be in the middle because again I was too slow and would eventually break the train. So, I’d end up in the end and when a sharp corner was hit…off I’d go at a tangent to land disgracefully and dishevelled in a heap at a nearby bench…and upon recovery I’d see my train off in the distance and no one would even glance back to see if 'Nyama' had broken something..perhaps a wrist? leg? the bench?

Bench to Bench: Now in the eating playground we had numerous benches. How this game was played, was that the leader(again not me) would jump with the least number of steps from bench to bench and the rest would have to make the same number of steps or less. So the boys would get their Carl Lewis sprintin,(what was that arrogant guy's name from Trinidad and Tobago-Oto Baldwin??? that swaggered around in tight speedos????) antelope hopping fevers on as I followed around holding their sweaters.
I had given it a try once…was doing mighty fine till I slipped and had a bench connect with my shin…AINT NO PAIN like a shin-bench kiss!!!!

Swimming. Ok,at least this was something which I was as good as the others. Comparing many didn’t learn to swim at an early age. Probably from over-reliance on floaters…I didn’t have that luxury since I couldn’t fit into any floater. An attendant at Ebrahim’s had suggested I use a tyre-tube. The freaking nerve! Either that or those semi circular floaters that had dinosaurs or duck heads…so this tub of lard learnt how to swim the hard way-by himself.
Despite belly flops! Struggling to get out of the pool! Swallowed Bermuda Trunks! Revealed butt cracks! I actually held my own in swimming. In fact I was one of the first daring kids to jump off the highest spring board. The swimming instructor had warned us to keep our legs together lest we burst our balls. (in her exact words!) And off I jumped, with pals cheering from below. It was the longest 5-6seconds of my life.

P.E. If it was a running competition I’d always lose. If it was hitting laps…jog…jog…jog…pant…jog…pant…pant…pant-ok where do I sit down? If it was a relay, the team was gonna lose! If guys were asked to do 20 press-ups I'd be asked to do 10. If people were busy playing i was busy getting send to get another teacher or something non-sportish.

Changing rooms. After double P.E or triple swimming we’d come together and change back. We all shared in the art of hiding prized privates. Initially from Std 1-3 we’d change stark exposed, dangling free, and whistling tunes.
Come Std 4-onwards. Techniques were developed. Especially post swimming.
It would get so nasty that wiping was not an option and you’d even just wear the swimming costume as your underwear and leave wet-butt prints on your shorts. Boy there is no greater agony than hoping you get dry quick as with each step, was a moist, frictionless slip and slide that was eerie and uncomfy.

Surprisingly, there was a fine line between hiding cause you are shy/ its inappropriate to display nudity or cause you were embarrassed and really had something to hide!!!. So if you were to change wearing a long shirt in front of the whole class- that was being shy or being uncomfortable...but if you were to wrap yourself round with a towel and enter a room to change- you were embarrassed and hiding something. Yup, if you hadnt sprouted pubics as others were pluckin as C.S.I evidence-grab that towel! Ha, even those who had had the cut would have towel moments in primary then in secondary roles were reversed...ha memories.

So no guesses as to where porky would change? You got it-outside the changing room, behind the structures by the trees. You'd see a huge shadow with shaking leaves..then i'd emerge!

As a result of all the humiliation and joking…what else was I to do but start avoiding the whole sport scenario in total…slowly by slowly I started having notes. Once the swimming teacher was teaching us diving techniques-and damn it I was getting pretty good too. Until I heard, “Hey Fatso! Where are you going?” That’s the last time I attended swimming lesson back in 1993-and to think I had even signed up for lifesaving course for P.A scheme. I actually have never!!!!

So ultimately, I did less and less of sports…did all other extracurricular activities except sports. And as the story ends, Msanii, that is how I reached that zone of certain dislike…aversion towards sports.

But I will say I play a really good Table Tennis game…and come time for Nyabs/Bano…I was a crack shot…or did I mean I’d’ crack my shorts bending. The spirit is still willing…but I know better!

It's been a YEAR!

Wow wowie. Its feels like just yesterday when i struggled up to start a blog. I had no idea the impact it would have on my geeky asocial life...but look at it now! Or, rather look at me now. What started out as a thing I did during my free time from a cyber cafe has evolved into an addiction and a part of my life. Blogging as we all know is not just about yourself, its an interactive process with other bloggers out there...and this has been an experience worth the while. Nothing beats the whole bloggin phenomenal. (toasting a fanta glass!)

I keep repeating, that it's a secret life out there, that many are not privy to. Many don't know its existence or our participation in it. Very sad. Cause in a job interview, and someone asked "what are one of your accomplishments in the past year?" "Blogging!!!" should be an answer.

So, in celebrating this milestone...I'd like to thank each and everyone of YOU that have become part of this blogging life with me. For the comments, the emails, sms's and calls...through the cheap humor and definitely the Blogwars! The annoying tags! The jokes at my expense. The babes and dudes and the adopted families.

I have no idea what am supposed to do at a 1yr anniversary...maybe like in the movies I should re-release some of my favorite posts:director's cut version un-edited? Re-edited in THX?

If you all have ideas let me know? If you have ideas for posts that you would like written-let me know. And NO, I'm not asking you to ask personal questions like "when did u stop wetting the bed?" I'm asking for post suggestions. If you would like a previous old posts re-edited with more spice, shout out!

So once again its been a BLAST being a member of KBW and meeting all of you.

HAPPYBIRTHDAY-year old blog of mine!

And i'd like to introduce you to my second new blog nichgich.blogspot.com solely dedicated to my movie/tv addiction.

The Meeting with BLUE

We all have different expectations when meeting someone for the first time. I’d spoken to Blue before and from his voice he sounded like those go-getters in life…very outspoken with a hint of Private School accent on top of a previous village dialect. He’s eloquent and charming on the phone…the kind of insurance salesman you’d listen to for just a few seconds more before you hung up the phone.

So the meeting happened…7pm at a pre-arranged meeting point. Mshairi had kept on sms’ing to find out if we had met and if we did how it was going…Down! Down now Aunty!

When battling with blue I’ve tried to portray him as a previously stocky, pot-bellied man, perhaps with evidence of periodontal disease… who over the many, many, many, many years has aged into a limping structure due to age induced arthritis. White-haired. Crouching over aided by a walker with non-steady, frail and ashy-white arms. Withering body frame, toothless, urinary incontinent-thank God for urinary catheters and urine bags. Mentally incompetent-borderline senile!

But ladies and gentle men of the blog jury…this is the true story you have been waiting for.

I arrived at the agreed meeting point... I called him and he told me that he was just standing outside the front entrance, so the dreaded moment had arrived.

I saw a man standing looking at me as I approached him. There he was the grand puh-bah! Can you say a towering inferno? A rock of Gibraltar! With a rugged, outlined jaw line, dimpled chin…he gives Michael Douglas a run for his money. Pearly white teeth (his own nothing, to do with receipts but from the in-house dentist he has employed) with a generous broad grin. A brother has aged gracefully and the pin-striped 3piece suit didn’t hurt either as his built filled it out remarkably well. It looked like he had that protection metal frame that American Footballers wear…he was built like an Ox! He looked like a model for a futuristic Nursing Home…with his relaxed curly black hair, manicured fingernails…I was surprised he hadn’t been knighted yet! I couldn’t tell if he was well-buttocked as Milo had asked, but so far no double chin, no eye bags, and no wrinkle lines! And as I got nearer I could tell he was thoroughly deodorized and nose hairs trimmed! His poise was as dignified as his demeanor! A distinguished Gentleman.

He said "Er, Hello there?” with a firm handshake with a resonating, vibrating voice that oozed confidence and elegance!
I said “Hi nice to finally meet you!”
He said “Hi…er…Who are you?”

It was at that moment that I heard a village-idiot like “Psssssssssssssst! Over here Nick! Kijana niko hapa!!!!”

Damn! HE was not the real BLUE! I turned around to see a jolly short fellow smiling ear to ear…it hit me…this here was the real BLUE POET! Could the real NEED COMPASS please stand up….ouch…he IS standing up!

First impression: was that this almost cartoon like character was totally friendly and harmless. Very smooth very round faced, with pencil-like drawn side burns with a smile that could light up a room. As Mshairi would inquire he does smile with his eyes. His shiny balding head reflected the hotel’s name inverted! He has a huge gap in between the front teeth with a little gum protrusion that he kept licking with his thin tongue. He was making me laugh already. He was all sporty wearing a greytracksuit with little circular patches of sweat under each arm… a grey sweat band on his wrists and forehead. And a whistle dangling from his neck? Was he out of a coaching practice? Was he jogging? Did he think we were having a costume meet-up party? ...Well...apparently after work he changes into casual wear to feel fresh younger and rejuvenated. Trust me he had Nike shoes that I envied instantly. He was a ka-manyanga papa! Did not look a day over 53!

It was obvious I had been picking a fight with the wrong person. I liked him instantly and as we picked a table it looked weird following a little version of David Mwenje…except shorter with manners. He obviously had no neck and his arms looked like they emanated from his ears. But he had a very cute spring to his walk…almost like a pudgy ballerina very light on his feet...very confident and such a free spirit.

The waitress came and already he had started teasing her and he almost spanked her bottom when she got our orders wrong making her flinch in a giggling spree. I asked for a Fanta…yes I have the Bamboocha life membership. He asked for Ginger Ale. Even she was stupefied at that request, “Ati Jinja Aero?” Now, at first I was surprised he wasn’t drinking anything heavy till he started fidgeting with his pockets and ended up revealing some sachet with some funky concoction that he spilled into the Ginger Ale. He winked at me and started sipping it through his gap!

He smoked like a beat down jalopy. Another waiter brought him a whole packet of Rooster, neither oblivious of the dangers of unfiltered ciggy’s, nor the dangers of second hand smoking! As he puffed away different shapes and sizes, it was obvious that satchet had some potent brew! He started stroking and caressing his tummy under his tracksuit gear. He may have even cleaned up some stuff from his belly button…cause there was some digging and definitely probning action going on down in there and ultimate flicking action throwing of some gunk into the air.

We discussed loads of things: our careers, families, hobbies and dislikes. Goals and interests. He is totally worth the company. Light me a fire, get me a comfy carpeted floor and am all ears. He is the kind, if you were at Shags you’d listen to his stories all night long. He mentioned his philandering ways when he was my age back in the day of no disease as he so called it. He said he was a babe-magnet…and beneath that short-stop I could see laid the heart of a true Kuke-Kamba Stallion. Remember when Lequita in a previous post had said “His succulent pot belly.... prominent forehead.... untrimmed nose-hairs...arrogant demeanor adds a little air of rugged masculinity, I must add! Trust me if I was a wild pig I’d bare him healthy piglets with pride!!!!” I could see what she meant.

He reminisced on many a Mugumo tree moments and plucking of ripe berries in the coffee farm. He was full of picturesque farming metaphors. From planting maize seeds into non-planted depths of soils, to harvesting forbidden fruits that blossomed monthly…weeding gardens that belonged to the neighbours in the river in between…milking cows in the middle of the night so that the heifer could sleep with ease…climbing and conquering unchartered hilltops...riding the proverbial bicycle for a short distance with no brakes to deliver bursting news...irrigating dry lands with ingeniuos canal system…reinstalling pipes as the designated plumber with wrench that could unlock the tightest of pipes...he was your perverted humorist.

Talked about almost being drafted to fight in World War 2. His first VW beetle. His two separations form his ex-wives as a result of infidelity on their part. His first pay cheque. His current business that he started from scratch and has never looked back. Revealed to me his dreams to publish his writings especially his poems. His desire to get re-married and to give his 5 children legitimacy - his major regret in life. The bloggers who have hit on him due to a misconceived notion of his sexual prowess and wealth.

He was your average type bloke. Down to earth. Totally unrefined. A happy-go-lucky persona. This guy has never known the meaning of depression. He's smiling and laughing keeps him young.

He’d tease the waitress like they grew up together or had some sort of explicit history because every time he spoke she seemed to be under his spell. “Wewe ka-mzee!” She’d melt away and mock-slap him on the shoulder and giggle off again to bring another bottle of Ale! Then he’d look at me with a suggestive look translating “See, Nick I still got it. Am a Mack-Daddy in the latest Nike.”

He told her I was his son and that he would buy her for me. We both blushed…then she started looking at me in a whole new light! She asked me what I do. To which he quickly added “Usijali...mimi niko na pesa…you too just get married I will take care of you!” She looked disappointed to having to settle for the ‘Son’ when she clearly wanted the ‘Papa’

Even the other waiter, he joked with him, insisting that he needed to know who made his trousers cause apparently they were the right kind of black he’d been looking for in the right kind of seam. He pursued that topic to the point he wanted to buy them off of him. To which the waiter tried to shrug him off …till he was grabbed and pulled close to his face. Circled his tiny arms round his waist trying to get his exact waist measurement using index and thumb. “ Ebu, Ngoja wewe…this is really, really nice!” I don’t know who was more shocked: the flinching and totally uncomfortable waiter? Me? The other clients in the restaurant? The waitress for not having such a privilege? Or Blue when he discovered that the waiter was two fingers too small! To which he dismissed him and tapped him on the behind, “Basi leta pakiti ingine ya Rooster!” Trust me the violated tapped waiter did not return!


All in all I had a really great time. Totally glad that I met this life-force, full of more youth and vitality than my younger self. He is a jolly kinda guy. Totally real, down to earth. Honestly I should meet him soon especially for that sumptuous Koroga and more of his stories.
So he unleashed a fat wallet with a fat wad of notes. Paid for the bill. Gave the waiter and waitress a generous tip that had them bowing down at this pleasant fellow. He even had the audacity to ask me if I wanted lunch money for the following day!