Chicken Noddle Soup

 

I always intend to blog on Mondays, so that I can tell stories of the weekend while they are still smoking, but Mondays don’t allow much of free minutes leave alone an hour to bring all the thoughts alive. There are Monday blues, there are Monday mood swings, there is the hangie then there is the real job.

Here I am now. The weekend was great to say the least. I rested a lot, and watched lil man take his first step. Did you hear that?  The lil Champ is walking….two steps then he rests for two hours and takes another two or three and we laugh at how much fun walking is. Wow!! So that was my weekend. I made my hair too. This is where the story lies.

Before we start; Remmy (the convict, i hate the description though) sent me a text this morning.
"Swiry, yaani you've not heard of someone who is moving out, in your hood? You really don't want us to be neibbaz, ama? xema i dont botha u xana". I continued with my early morning bus ride nap immediately after reading it. She has guts!! 

In other also very irrelevant news, I saw a nun struggling for a matatu yesterday evening; it was almost raining. Respect the hustle!!

Where was I? ooh the hair business....

I always make my hair in town but this past weekend I was too lazy to get to town, so I chose a local salon. Who did a good job by the way!! For a local estate salon, that had no prior recommendation, am impressed. The atmosphere there is homely. I laughed so hard at stories they told as they gently plaited my hair into neat cornrows.

High school Bullying as we know it is physical and can reflect on one’s emotional side but on this day I learnt there is also practical emotional bullying in high school. Rehema, one of the salonist (this word is non existent but I need it so RIP grammar) is a bubbly girl, very talkative and loves a hearty laughter. She came in when I had just sat down and she immediately lit up the room with a warm smile. Half way into the plaiting session, she tells us of how she went to a good national girl’s school in the heart of Eldoret. ( names withheld though if you hail from Mursik land you probably will have a right guess). For this reason, I assume she then must own the salon, that school produces very bright girls, women winning wards and always being nominated for the top 40 under 40 achievers, you get the drill? Rehema on the other hand says she failed terribly due to emotional stress. This almost became a sad story but she picks it up with a smile, saying she enjoys her job.

  In Rehema’s school, equality was unheard of, they were only equal when they stood on the parade ground to listen to the teacher repeat the same instructions daily using different words.  The same colour of skirts, pullovers and socks neatly arranged on level ground defined equality at its best. It started there and sadly ended right there.

In this school, beside the dinning hall, there was a cafeteria and a canteen. What else would a teenager want? Some students did not know where the door to the dinning room was. That’s awesome!! They always ate at the canteen. Their pockets were deeper and wider than those of others. Some had tea and bread at every tea break while some like Rehema had it when they could. When the family cow had delivered a calf and milk prices had gone up, so the benefit in one way or another would trickle down to more pocket allowance. She recons there are times when they would walk from a tough maths lesson feeling confused only for one of them to walk back into class with a box of pizza. Her mum or dad had left is for her at the gate. You know how a maths lesson can make you crave pizza?! Well your mum knows it too swiry.  Poor you if you were not friends with a maths stressed pizza craving student; you will have to do with the aroma. Take it or leave it. 

In the evenings, the pizza craving maths allergic student would make noodles for she cannot stand the sight of high school ugali. J. Rehema and her fraternity of students from the village would wait with baited breadth for the queens to finish up their noodles and give them the soup. They would then “fish for the remains” (she actually said “fish”), then take the soup with bread and smile alone in the bed. This school was an epitome of an unequal society. Children had to learn to keep their lanes from such an early age. This story is on the edge of becoming sad if its not already sad. I will walk away from it, not very far though.

 I once had a bully boss. This morning I just ran into one gmail chat that we had when he was so mad. The guy was a little bit weird if I may put it lightly. He never talked when he was mad. In stead, hed go to his office and shoot emails one after the other. Then he would finally start a gmail chat just to make sure you did the anger is home and really home.

Below is a blast from the past. I do not remember what it was about. Bit I tell you he was boiling up. Lol!!

Richards: keklen
Richards: Kellen'
Me: yes
Richards: why only you with excuses...didnt you see that beforehand
Me: i did not think we would get that late
Richards: do you expect me to continue buying your nonsense
Richards: i called you to just be sure
Me: yes
Richards: i will review your account
Richards: my personal grant depends on your respect for work
Richards: if i get one excuse from u in a week,
Richards: that is reasonable
Richards: for you, each and every other time
Richards: there is a problem somewhere
Me: ok
Richards: ok what
Richards: you have no courtesy
Richards: and you will have that reflected in your account
Richards: look,
Richards: am giving you a professional chance to keep yourself on board or to leave it...
Richards: I advise you make my altitude right on you...for whatever time we work together....it will help you.

I amuse my self; see how calm I remained all through. He was so mad, hed not write my name well. I think he was shaking. *evilgrin*

This personal grant is one thing I never laid my hands on. It was supposed to be an incentive but I think it was more of a threat.

Bullies shall always be bullies, so take your chicken noodle soup and fish for noodles, as long as you smile while fishing, then you are at your best.

For bullies will always be bullies.

I was given a professional (this word is misplaced) chance to keep myself on board or to leave it. I happily took the latter as i calmly sipped chicken soup.

 I thank God I did, doors flung open almost immediately.