Dear Dad

The sermon series at my church this month has been about fathers. Fathers who smothered their kids with love and care, those who encouraged their kids to persue their dreams, those who were there physically and emotionally, those who had the line 'spare the rod spoil the child' tatooed across their eyeballs, those who just sat on 'their' couch and read the newspaper not caring about anything else, those who tried living their dreams through their kids and well, fathers who were just plain mean. In whatever category your father falls, one thing is for sure, our fathers did and still do shape our outcome... something about an apple not falling far from the tree.

Now my dad is kind of a hero to me. The reason I say kind of a hero is because I've seen him exhibit super human strength and I've seen Him so scared that if a girl I liked saw him, I'd quickly tell her a story of how I normally volunteer at this mental institution and every once in a while they let me take a patient home.... One time thieves had raided our house and as they were cutting through the window grills (read security bars), he thought they were in the kitchen. Like a psychotic man on steroids and red bull my dad charged towards the kitchen door with a metal pipe and actually stabbed the door. I kid you not. The metal pipe went through the wooden door like a shank through neck tissue. Then all that had to be ruined by this time he wanted to check out the TV antennae that was conviniently placed on the roof. He carefully set the ladder against the wall and started to climb. Three steps up and poor dad was shaking like a psychotic man who'd gone cold-turkey. He had to be convinced that he was only 12 inches high and that he was safe. (Don't worry dad, even Super Man is kind of a hero to me, wait till I whip out the kryptonite stashed under my bed).

So in a bid to appreciate my dad, I decided to write him a letter just to let him know a few things I had in mind:

Dear Dad,
Hope this letter finds you well. Over the years I've been thinking of all the cool things you ever did with us and from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Teaching to ride that bike without trainers, showing me how to drive, how to cook (like a man) and well how to be a responsible man.

Having said that, there's something that I've wanted to tell you. Remember that day you came from work and found your room in a mess? The 'kitambaa' covering that old wooden Grundig TV was on the floor, the place looked like it had been TP-ed and it looked like somethings were missing, well it wasn't me. While I appreciate the beating I got, one reason being I learnt a few valuable fighting moves that day, it was not me. After a thorough investigation, I found out that it was the cat. Yes, the cat you loved so much. She got in, had the time of her life then left; and that's the thanks she gave you for loving her so much! Life however, has a way of ensuring justice is done.

Remember that day you came from work and found your cat covered in vaseline? Well that was me. Though not intentionally, I take full credit for that. I guess you have earned the right to know how it happened. Small brother and I were playing catch with the big tub of vaseline, the one you guys bought and made sure it would last at least one school term. So while we were clearly breaking the world record for most consequtive catches, I finally tossed him a fierce one (what can I say, you taught me well...) when he couldn't catch it, it hit the ground, cracked on the side, pushing out a 'blade' of vaseline that cut across the room and onto the cat's back. We were young. Instead of picking the vaseline off the cat's back, we smeared it all over the cat's body. You gave a beating, but it was worth it. Your cat looked like the metal pipe you stubbed the door with!

This two memories have stuck in my head because they remind me how much you loved us (by how much you disciplined us :)). I appreciate you and well am old enough to say this... I love you. Hope Mppru (His cat) still loves you, wherever she is.

Love Your Son,

Ras.

On the real, appreciate you father today. He might have been the hero in your life or the villain; the important part is you wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him. If you are a dad reading this post, I salute you. To all the dads out there, THANK YOU. 

Why Do I Have Veggie Tales Singing in My Head?!

I still do not understand why Bob and Larry of Veggie Tales have been singing in my head the whole day. Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase 'the voices in my head are doing voice practice.'

But I think I can trace where it all began.

I recently discovered that the reason I actually hate my job is because I love it so much that it actually makes me cross, unwittingly, the thin line between bonding and bondage. I still do not understand why every morning I get to work I feel like Grim after a staring contest with Billy or Chowder after an awkward session with Panini... (okay for all you who start their sentences with the phrase 'siku zetu', I usually just have a bad start to the day.) So as a result, I desperately needed a vacation. Having been to Mount Kenya three times in the last two years, I wasn't planning on setting a new record for most number of mountain climbing trips so I decided Mombasa was the ideal getaway.

Now such a trip is important to a simpleton such as I. Everything had to be planned out. The old kanzu I inherited from my old man, the kikoy girlfriend gave me, the shorts I illegally acquired from my boys and the amazing assortment of toys I carry around in my back pack (one of them being an old slingshot I always carried around until some cop confiscated it at the Kenya-Uganda game at Nyayo Stadium. Anyway, I got a new one!) So after making sure that everything is in place, I sit down with my friend's laptop (I'm beginning to make a habit of borrowing laptops...) to compile a road trip mix tape and just as fate had dictated, as if the planets had aligned to set in place some weird cosmic outcome (by the way I totally do not believe in that nonsense) I stumbled upon the folder of folders: Ten Years Of Veggie Tales Greatest Hits.

Just so that we are on the same page, this is Veggie Tales; the Veggie Tales - the greatest bunch of singing vegetables since the Californian raisins and all other have-been or wanna-be singing veggies. As if that is not enough, on opening the folder I discover 25 songs!!!!!! Okay my excitement probably makes no sense to you at this particular moment, but for the sake of understanding where I am heading with this blog, pretend you care. I sample classics such as The Hairbrush Song, His Cheeseburger and The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything and then copy them on my phone and I am set; Mombasa here I come.

My excitement however starts diminishing when I look at the time and find out it's only 7.30 pm and my bus leaves at 11.00 pm. Four hours!!!! That's how much time I have to spend idly waiting for the stupid bus. Oh and I forgot to add, I am still unwell (refer to previous post.) Girlfriend tries to cheer me up - in vain. 5,000,000 hours later the bus gets here and its all roads leading to the getaway of the year. Again, as if the planets did some silly gig and ended up in a certain pattern, me and girlfriend were split up; I got a seat at the back while she was somewhere at the middle of the bus. Crap!!!! Now am pissed, am tired, all my psyke is gone and for some funny reason, Bob and Larry can't stop singing in my head.

Now don't get me wrong I, clearly, love Bob and Larry but singing vegetables aren't exactly recommended at times of great stress and frustration. So like a mad deranged freak I spent a few minutes cursing at some singing vegetables under my breath. All the while trying to figure out how I will end up with girlfriend sitting next to me. Anyway, after playing cryptic cube with people in the bus I ended up shuffling enough people to see girlfriend next to me; at least this time the song playing was Endangered Love, which is a cute song about learning French and Going to the ball, totally irrelevant to the situation...damn you Barbara Manatee!!!! (Google this stuff...just saying.) So girlfriend is there, the bus is on the move and then I remember I still haven't taken my medicine. I have to mention that this little pill is supposed to deal with flu but I wouldn't be surprised if it was made from horse tranquilizers. No sooner had I taken the pill than girlfriend's voice turned to something close to a dragging cassette player and then there was darkness; then I woke up to this...

So much for my much awaited road trip!

I think I'm Sick...

So today is just one of those days you just can't figure out why in the world things are going the way they are. I woke up to an aching body, confusion and a runny nose wondering why my body was aching, my head was jumbled up with thoughts and why the heck I always have to reach for tissue every morning. Memories of yesterday's rock climbing trip help in making sense of the body pains.

I still gather enough strength to get out of my sleeping bag (long story that i'll be sure to post about when the time is right), find my mattress mate (still part of the long story) sorting out stuff for his Mount Kenya trip. I feel the need to say that I have been to Mt. Kenya three times in the last two years, twice last year, once this year so I felt a bit nostalgic. So between grunting under my breath and offering 'life saving' advice, I found myself saying things i wasn't even sure of...at least i knew who I was talking to. Anyway, after a few minutes i dashed into the shower only to find a dry floor and tiles....

I understand water shortage more than most people, but my reaction was a bit on the overreacting side. I honestly cannot remember what exactly I did or said but I think there is a reason why guys are looking at me all funny. After a while I decide to go to a friend's a shower there.... No point, he lives in a hostel so the queue of random men in towels waiting for the sole hot shower doesn't look worth it, especially today. Before I can even plan my next move my phone rings and it's a client. I forgot to send her the flier i was designing for her company.... Crap! "Hallo? hey, how are you...ya, i sent it...guess it didn't reach you, lemme see if I can send it again." I have to look for a computer!!!!! Argh!!! Okay, a few 'come down Ras(s)' later, I meet my friend who reluctantly gives me his laptop and I send the darn flier. That is of course after several minutes of derailment and going through folders in an attempt to add some spice into this day.

So done with the flier, then I remember I had a date with someone scheduled at 11.30; it's now 11.48. "Why world, why?!" Anyway, I have a computer...hmmm. Go through some pictures, show off some old designs and then it hits me; I can start the blog I've been thinking about for the last few weeks...okay to be honest, months (I pride myself in being one of the great procrastinators. If I was president I would have procrastinated promulgation just coz the two words almost sound the same.) A few paragraphs later and I am here.

It hits me the reason my day is so crappy is coz I must be sick. The runny nose, groggy voice, creased face (partly coz of the annoying people talking to me now) and weird day. At least I started a blog...wait, I'm supposed to be hanging out with girl friend right now...! Crap!

Hopefully she'll like the blog....