Women Get Friend- Zoned Too

You had me right. Most of the time we tend to think that only women are the ones who decide whether the guy is hit it material, relationship material or the dreaded zone that all guys tend to hate, The friends zone!*inserts shudders*. In my 20 something years of existence in this world, I’ve seen a lot of things. And sadly I’ve been friend-zoned a couple of times. There, I’ve finally admitted it! Pheuwx! Feels good to finally have that out of my system! Well as a woman it hurts at times, we don’t dare admit it but we do get ticked off when we are relegated to the friend’s zone. It’s bad for our egos. Yes we do have egos as well and love feeding on compliments we get, not being one of the boys. So I sat down, pondered on what made me end up in the friend’s zone with one guy who I had put in the he can get it zone 6 months ago. Yeah 6 months later I still can’t get over the fact that I had been friend-zoned, I mean I ooze awesomeness! And no, I’m not being vain. Enough rambling let’s get down to business:

•Tomboy-ish traits. I think I was thrown into the friend’s zone because of this. Not that I walk around in jeans, Tim boots or sneakers. Far from it, I think I only own 2 pairs of sneakers and this is because I can’t jog in heels. Unless I knew a guy in a purple suit, haha get it? No? Ok then, moving along swiftly, I hate soap operas, Westlife and such shitty girly music and tend to love HipHop as much as Neo Soul and Jazz still top my list. But I guess when we were kickin it in Mr. Put me on the friend’s zone house and arguing about who was the illest rapper between Twista, Krayzie Bone and Busta Rhymes back in the day made him assume he was talking to one of his boys. Vionna, you should have shut your mouth.

•Laid Back Chic “ You’re so easy to talk to and laid back, you don’t have mad drama or act crazy like some women do.” As he said this I was beaming from ear to ear when he dropped the I like hanging out with you. We can just chill and talk. The fake smile I had as I stabbed his back over and over in my head when he said that.

•You Keep It Real- Dear men, I don’t get it when you say this. So fine, I might jokingly say that woman is hot when she passes or she has a nice ass, you compliment me for keeping it real and not hating then I’m still relegated to the friends zone? How in the name of zones is that possible? You tell me I’m awesome for hating on weaves, keeping it real then start flirting with that friend of mine who owns more weaves than a rancher with a horse stable!

•Flirts Without Benefits- So we would occasionally flirt, to him it was just flirting but sometimes he would send mixed signals and the limbo feeling not knowing if we are still “boys” or more than that gets a tad annoying. When he treats you like his down ass chic! And they say us women are complicated!

•One Of The Boys- And this just means that. One of the boys, I should have gotten the hint when I was introduced to the boys as just Vionna. He wouldn’t mind his boys flirting with me, we’d meet up to watch a football game together. Banter Arsenal together (sigh! Good times those were)But I should have pretended to be the I can’t stand Rugby, football kinda girls.

I could go on and on, but let me stop there. This guy more than hurt my ego if I’m still annoyed about it six months later. I mean who friends zones me, I should be the one friend zoning guys! But sadly ladies, we get friend-zoned too, whether we like it or not. Stop pretending you haven’t been. Yeah I see you! I finally accepted and knew the hurt men go through when we friend zone them, but that doesn’t mean some of the guys in my friends zone’s list will be promoted to he can get it zone. Enjoy the zones ladies, and don’t deny this has never happened to you once in your life. No he’s not gay, we can’t have them all

Peace and Blessings, Vionna

A little too late

It’s always a little bit too late when we realize something or when we lose someone and we never got to mend a broken friendship and will never get a chance to, because they died too soon. As I write this, a friend of mine is lying cold in a morgue thanks to the animal of a man she claimed to love. The man who used her as his punching bag, verbally abused her and made her feel as if she was nothing. I wrote about her sometime in May last year. A blog post entitled Words I said http://vionnaswatching.wordpress.com/2011/05/17/words-i-said/ she was being verbally abused at the time and the guy really made her believe that she was nothing more than his punching bag. We had a fallout with her sometime late last year. See, the last time, she was beaten up real bad we thought she finally came to her senses and realized it was time for her to leave before things got out of hand. Well, a few weeks later after that, I bumped into her hand in hand with that monster. I can’t and I wont call him a man because he’s not worthy to be called that. He’s a coward who should have picked on someone his own size, not a woman whom he knew won’t fight him back. So she called me after we met and told me he had really changed and everything was well. We had an argument after that and I remember the last words I told her that day was, “the next time, you will come back in a casket if you think such a monster can change.” Little did I know those words would come true yesterday. We stopped talking after that incident, sometimes I would be tempted to call her up, but something inside me always vexed me to a point I couldn’t pick up the phone and talk to her. I always felt like shaking her back to reality. I wish I did make that call. But I know there’s nothing I would have done to prevent what happened. She made her choices in life, she decided she wanted to stay with him, and unfortunately the choices she made cost her, her life. When her sister called me yesterday, I knew immediately something was wrong. She always used to call me when my friend was in really bad shape and couldn’t even talk on the phone. She was in tears as she tried to tell me what happened. Her sister came back home late that night, and by late I mean 7pm due to traffic at the ferry(anyone who uses ferries to cross to the other side knows how crazy traffic gets)so the monster left, went drinking came back started beating her up, she was trying to run out of the house, when he flung her from the stairs, fell and fractured her skull. That was the end of her troubled love life.

I was angry, shocked and hurt at the same time when I heard the news. Still trying to come to terms with it, but it’s a bit hard to fathom her death at the moment. Ladies, one should never be a statistic. I never thought one of my friends would be one. When a guy as much as slaps you, those are warning signs that warn you of the danger ahead if you continue down that path of making excuses for him. A man who verbally abuses you, will make you feel worthless and in turn start believing you deserve what you get. Don’t lead yourself to believe that it really doesn’t hurt you, or believe that you only hurt yourself. Don’t believe every time he says he’s sorry or be ashamed to tell someone you need help. I got this quote yesterday from Christopher Robin to Pooh Bear:” Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you think, and smarter than you think.” Get out of that relationship before it’s a little bit too late.

Peace and Blessings, Vionna

Phenomenal Women

So I haven’t been blogging for a while. A lot has been going on, but I thought it would be appropriate to post this wonderful poem by Maya Angelou that always inspires me. Today being International Womens Day, I just want to wish all the wonderful women out there, mothers, daughters, sisters, friends you truly are phenomenal women and make the world a better place. Happy Women’s day ladies

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Peace and blessings always, Vionna

Hair Raising Experience

Painkillers. Check! Phone battery full to listen to music and tweet the pain away. Check! Mentally and physically prepared. Check! Well, you might be wondering what I’m going on and on about ,aye? It’s the torture every woman who braids her hair goes through most of the time. Getting one’s hair did is really not a fun experience and braiding takes a whole lot of time, and if you are not the patient type like me, you prefer to have your hair braided in one of those markets that do it in a record three hours tops. I will stop yapping much and help you picture the scenario.

Scene 1: Alights from the stage at Kenyatta Market with my big afro and suddenly from nowhere a battalion of women bombard me each one calling me, aunty, mrembo and the guilt breaker mtoto wangu.
Me:”Hapana niko sawa sitaki kushukwa” (for my foreign readers it means, no I’m ok I don’t want my hair braided)
Women’s Army:“ Tutafanya kazi smart utakuwa mrembo sana. Sema tu uko na pesa ngapi hatuwezi kosana bei.” (ok I’m really tired of translating now, but it means the women then try to convince me saying how they’ll work wonders to my hair and I should not worry about the price we will come to some sort agreement)

Pretends to make a phone call while walking so fast like a killer with a saw is behind me waiting to cut me up. They finally get the hint and leave me alone. Sighs in relief, I can finally concentrate on who I was going to visit in hospital without thinking I’m about to be hijacked and held hostage with combs and braids on my afro. Poor lil afro all traumatized now.

Scene 2: Decides to finally get my hair braided and wakes up early on a Saturday to go to a different hair braiding market. Remembered to take my painkillers beforehand for the pain that I was about to go through. Alights at the Umoja Market Stage and before I can even blink, one woman jumps in fronts of me (tempted to show her my Ninja moves) another one grabs my hand all of them calling me aunty (ok why the hell do they insist on that name) manages to yank away from their grip and focus on who I was sent to get my hair did. I don’t know how she looks like, her phone is not going through and my selective amnesia forgot which stall no. she owns. Thank God for small mercies, I recognize that voice shouting; Aunty! Aunty! Kuja tukushuke. I ask her if she’s*censored* she says yes and I finally feel relieved as the women staring at my afro like they are lions and were just about to pounce on this powerless antelope(my afro not me)And the drama unfolds:

Miss Afro:” Nimetumwa na nani, kushukwa hapa since mlimshuka vizuri” (I’ve been sent by so and so to get my hair braided since you did her hair so well)
Braiding Lady:“Karibu sana, unataka za ngapi? Kuna za 5,6,7,8 na thao sema ile size umependa.”(wait am I choosing the braids I want as if I’m shopping for a dress? Oh my bad! For those who don’t understand Swahili, braiding lady asks me which size of braids I want and for how much since they come in different prices)
Miss Afro:“Nataka za 8. Na niko na haraka kidogo, kama mnaeza harakisha itakuwa vizuri.” (I’m in a hurry so if you can do a quick job, I would appreciate) Here I am thinking to myself that she is the one doing my hair, apparently she’s like an apprentice and her job is to scout for interns to do her work for her while she does a touch and go on your hair while gossiping.
I sit outside my braids snatched away from me, a towel thrown on my lap with braids smeared in Vaseline and I’m asked to divide for another braiding lady. Drat! There goes my tweeting away, and I can’t listen to music either because of the loud annoying station that acts like they have a 4gb flash disk worth of music also known as Kiss 100 on full blast. “Shoot me now!”I mutter to myself. I’m given an old Parent’s magazine that should be archived, to read. Finally braiding lady outsources two other braiding ladies and they are on top of my head, gossiping while forgetting it’s your hair they are pulling when they start hi-5ing each other. Suddenly, they get hungry and start eating chapatis on top of your head(this women can eat!)they then call for help to help with the finishing. Now I have four women on top of my head! Wait, scratch that, I have two women and four thighs on my face. You see, when it comes to twisting, the quickest way to finish them is by one woman applying Vaseline on her thighs, and rolling the braids on it. Mind you, it’s your hair being pulled like that to be able to reach one’s thigh. The braiding lady then demands;”Panua miguu” Ok, this now starts sounding like I’m auditioning for a softcore porn movie! My legs are spread in such a way her body can fit, and one of the finishers thigh can be up in my face, with a stench from her vajayjay that makes you want to pass out. There’s always a welding shop nearby, and the noise starts driving you insane, the gossiping and laughing on top of your head, the pulling and forced to do some Kama Sutra flexing muscles stunts is just too much. Once done in a record 3 hours, they pull your hair back, and dab a hot towel on your scalp. You leave there with your eyes looking all Chinese from the pulling, your hairline slowly fading and you want to kill someone.
Braiding Lady:Finally she comes back just to take the cash and says;” Na uko smart, utarudi lini tena nikushuke?”
Miss Afro now tightly braided: “I’ll call you.” As I leave there in so much pain and about to overdose on painkillers, vowing never to braid my hair again. Four weeks later, phones braiding lady again to make an appointment.

Peace and blessings always, Vionna.

Breakups to Makeups

First of all, I would like to wish all you bloggers and readers alike a Happy 2012 as you struggle to make resolutions that you know by mid Feb you will have completely forgotten about! Now that we have that out-of-the-way, let me whine about the number one resolution that a majority of ladies (me included) make every New Year: Leaving all the baggage behind which mostly involves a man. Breaking up with that guy whose drama you don’t want to carry over come 2012. New Year, new things becomes the mantra you chant most of January. I like to call it the five stages of breakups to makeups, since mostly it starts somewhere in November when you realize the year is almost coming to an end and the person you are dating seems to have your feelings stuck somewhere in limbo, and you can’t start a new year going through an emotional rollercoaster again. Just for the sake, let’s just say a friend of mine went through these five stages:-)

1. Self Pity: All your friends seem to be settling down, getting married and you’re still stuck in a limbo. You start feeling sorry for yourself, thoughts that maybe true love doesn’t exist for you start creeping in. Attending weddings become such a bore for you. The game plan you had when you were 20 to be married and settled down by a certain age starts taunting you. Comfort eating becomes your new hobby in the hopes that a certain someone will get his act together.

2. Making Excuses: You make sure all your friends know how much you love your just dating without marriage in view life. You can travel go on holidays the way you want without having to consult someone or apply for a visa (once you’re married) to go for some random road trips in Naivasha or Mombasa. You seem to enjoy a carefree life of sorts.

3. Denial: It’s not you. He will change, get his act right and finally pop the question. He just needs time to see where he wants to be (Donelle Jones I blame you for this) Denial clearly is a river in Egypt said with a Jamaican accent, unless you accept it and stop living in a bubble.

4. Relapse: December is here. You managed to finally let Mr. Limbo go in November when it dawned on you the year is finally ending and you need change. Then one random night you get lonely, start missing him and find yourself riding that emotional rollercoaster again (pun intended)

5. Waking up and Smelling the coffee: After the relapse, something snaps. You realize things will never change. You will be stuck in limbo for the rest of the year that’s about to start if you keep hoping and waiting for him to make up his mind. So that’s when you start writing down your resolutions. No more carrying emotional baggage come 2012. New Year, new things. You bury that chapter in 2011 and hope to start a new book come 2012.

So those are the 5 stages that most of the time runs through a girl’s mind when she decides to let go and come up with New Year’s resolutions that she hopes she will stick to. Chances are, by Feb, she would be back to the breakups to makeups yoyo or hopefully the coffee she woke up and smelled was really strong and knocked some sense into her that will make her stick to her resolutions.

PS: This is not a true story. Any relations to the blogger are purely coincidental. No feelings were hurt during the writing of this blog post:-)

Peace and Blessings Always, and a Happy 2012 to you all, Vionna.

Dear 2011 Perks and Flaws

As the year draws to an end, I still can’t quite come to terms with it. I mean it was just January the other day and now the month of debauchery, summer love, acting silly and such like things also known as December is here upon us. Since I’m in my happy place, Mombasa and I haven’t blogged in quite a while for losing my mojo reasons, I thought I would do one last post for the dramatic year that was 2011 and write her a letter.

Dear January, you started off so well, I thought for once we had quite a good thing going on, only for you to turn around and do what you do best. It wasn’t enough that I was recovering from the 2010 December debauchery with an empty wallet that now had cobwebs, you just had to add insult to injury and play the prank you played on me. But you taught me a lesson, I had made my bed with silly mistakes, I had to sleep on it and pay for the consequences.

Along came your sister February, you were not as harsh as your big sister January. We got along just fine like Sonko and stupidity. You came up with solutions that your sister Jan had caused and finally I could smile again. The one thing that you made me realize was that I wasn’t perfect. I made mistakes, I paid for them dearly and I either had to wallow in self-pity, pick myself up or move on.

March, April and May the three brothers that had my back. You really came through for me just when I thought all hope was lost. We had some fun times, we went out on holiday, rejuvenated and got back on track and left the past where it needed to remain. You taught me everything always works out in the end, it’s the middle that’s always the hardest to get through but once I did all was well.

My favorite twins June and July. This time around you were so full of surprises. You opened up two new chapters in my life that brought me so much joy and you managed to take something away from me that once brought happiness in my life. So bittersweet you were, but what I picked from you two, life is precious, I learned to forgive more, value the loved ones in my life and live each day without regrets.

August, the month of love you turned out to be, forget February you had it going on with weddings and romances I couldn’t keep up with you. Thank you for the eat, pray, love endeavor I went through with you. It was life changing. I became a better person thanks to you.

September, the black sheep of the year. Like Greenday, I just wanted to wake up when your month was up. You really lived up to your black sheep title. But lessons learned from August really came in handy while dealing with you. You were not so bad though, I learned something from you, losers are just afraid of doing what winners do, and I’m no loser!

October and November, you two turned out to be so witty, thanks for the gifts of wisdom you showed me, and teaching me to have a positive attitude regardless of trying situations around me.

December, the month that I turned sixteen again. The last born month that’s always so spoilt, bratty and fun. Well this time around, no more debauchery. You had to remind me that age has finally caught up with me, so I will behave and see what your firstborn sister January has in store for me.
Sincerely,
Vionna

PS: Next year please don’t snatch away so many people from us. Steve Jobs, Wangari Maathai, Heavy D, and all other fallen soldiers (well apart from the dictators you pulled a Mortein doom on)will be dearly missed.
Happy Holidays, bloggers and readers alike!
Peace and Blessings always, Vionna

My Epiphanies Part 2

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I did a post about my epiphanies a couple of months back, after going through some trials then and the lessons I learned from it. Well, this year it seems I will have me a lot of those aha moments clearly. Recently a very loving couple from Ghana came to visit my family; they’ve known me before I even came to this world, watched me grow and went back to their country. I hadn’t seen them for very many years and when they came visiting, it felt like they never left home. I Iove the way most people from West Africa always include proverbs or story telling while having conversations and trying to emphasize a point, here is a story that helped me put some perspectives on things and I thought I would share it with you (now gather around children as I wear my thick eye glasses and put on my grandmotherly accent to tell you this story): There were two men who used to go hunting in some remote place in Ghana, they were very good friends, and one of them was always so positive that made the other one really irritated. While hunting, he would miss shooting down a deer but all he kept saying was, “it is good”. So one, day while out hunting they managed to catch a deer, they were both very excited. Mr. Positive guy (let’s just call him that because I have forgotten his name) was holding the dead deer nicely for his friend to chop it into little pieces making it easier for them to carry it back, while his friend un-intentionally chopped of his hand. His friend was so remorseful and guilty and kept apologizing, but you know what Mr. Positive told him? “It is good!” Yet, this did not deter his friend from going to the chief, without Mr. Positive knowing and insisted on having himself locked up for what he did. Some months went on by, Mr. Positive kept on hunting, and then one day as he was out hunting, he came across cannibals. The cannibals were famous for eating people but they would never eat any human who had a deformity since they believed it to be a bad omen. When they came across him and saw he didn’t have one arm, they left him and went on, and right there and then Mr. Positive said; “It is good”. He went back to where his other friend was being held and begged the chief to release him. His friend was very angry that he had waited all this time before he came to have him released, and you know what Mr. Positive told him? If I was with you yesterday out hunting, the cannibals would have captured, killed and eaten you, but since you were held in here, you were safe. So my friend, It is good!
And that is the end of my story. I sat down, pondered over that story and it made me realize a whole lot of things and with that, I had me a few epiphanies that I would love to share with you:

1.Negative thinking is like applying grease on a pole while trying to climb it. You can never climb up no matter how much you try. Sometimes we always bring ourselves down by having negative thoughts which in turn reflects on our lives.

2.While going through trials and tribulations, we tend to focus more on the problems we are facing, rather than view them as a challenge. How many times have you ever gone through something, yet when you look back you realize that the problems you went through just made you stronger?

3.Never blame, nor be angry with God while you are undergoing tough times. That is the time you need him the most. He might not answer your prayers the way you want him to, but he will open up a way for you. You just need to trust and have faith in him

4.We always have negative friends. The ones who always keep complaining about everything and anything. In turn, like a sponge you absorb their negative attitude. Well I came to realize such friends are like anchors. Sometimes you need to cut them loose for your ship to sail.

5.Sometimes we tend to sell ourselves short. Remember Mr. Positive guy? He didn’t have both his arms, yet he continued hunting. My point being, if you always have a scape goat for not achieving what you are capable of achieving, always making excuses you will never ever win in life. Winners do what losers are afraid of doing.

6.While I was meditating on what I’ve been going through lately I realized something, we take old friends for granted whenever we meet new friends. Old friends are very precious, just like diamonds. It takes an effort to make your friendship shine and sparkle. Never let old friends drift away, you never know how much you will need them when everyone else sees the fake smile on your face, yet they are the only ones who can see the sadness behind that smile.

7.This has no relation to the story but is still an epiphany for me. Sometimes the one person you love will hurt you the most. Never mess with someone’s reality, better an ugly truth than a pretty lie so that you both can move on with your lives.

8.I realized the meanings of these words recently: Instead of wiping the tears from your eyes, wipe the person who made you shed those tears. Some women love going on and on about the pain and suffering they are going through because of a man they know is cheating on them. You know what, instead of crying yourself over them, why not wipe them from your lives (not killing them) just moving on and finding someone who will not make you cry.

9.I actually had this aha moment today a few hours while writing this and bonding with one of my cousins. She used to be very curvy and loved it, and now she’s a size 8, with fake hair on her head and this was not her at all. It made me realize, ladies we have all done some stupid things for men, but a man should never tell you how YOU should feel about yourself.

10.We all have problems; some of us hide it well some of us don’t. But whatever shit we might be going through, it all works out in the end. The middle is always the hardest part, but it really works out in the end.

Those are my few epiphanies; they’ve really helped me put some perspective on some things I’ve been going through. Like my friend @shuhi said: Life is too short to remove a USB safely. It’s also short to wallow in self-pity. You live, you go through tough times, you make mistakes but you learn from them.

Peace and Blessings always, Vionna

Dance With My Father

Today is one of those days that has bitter-sweet memories for me, 3rd November. I used to look forward to this day with bated breath, you see I don’t believe in love much, the happily ever after endings for me only exist in fairy tales. But there’s one couple that I truly believed loved each other. They went through many trials, sorrow, happiness and love together. They took their marriage vows seriously even though their children at times thought they were better off apart when insurmountable problems would arise, but somehow they proved them wrong time and again. I came to admire this beautiful couple, not only did they bring me into this world, but they taught me the seriousness of marriage and not the 72 days Kim Kardashian kind of marriage. But the kind of marriage that flourishes with time. My siblings and I came to admire their love, so every 3rd November we would try to outdo each other and make their wedding anniversary as special as possible. It’s what drew us siblings together and the one day that we would all look forward to, baking cakes and planning weekend getaways for them was the least we could do. Seeing my mum so happy as she danced with my father always brought tears of joy to my eyes. The glint in her eyes as she danced with my father I always thought it would last forever, that nothing would ever tear it apart. But as life would have it, that was not going to be the case. The cruel hands of death came and snatched my daddy away from us 5 years ago. Ever since then, 3rd November has become one of those days I always want to end so fast, because it kills me seeing the pain in my mama’s eyes. Today would have been their 35th wedding anniversary, we always planned to throw a big party when they reached this milestone, but alas! That was never meant to be. I’ve never really experienced the kind of love my parents had, that would make me love someone that much, live with someone for that long, endure a whole lot of shit from them sometimes yet sticking with someone through thick and thin so I can’t begin to imagine the pain she goes through every year. Life has its ups and down people, and I’m forever grateful for the good times we had celebrating their love together. Sometimes you just never know what you’ve got till it’s snatched away from you. Never take anything for granted, take some time from your busy schedules to appreciate the love that your parents have and show them how much you appreciate them when they are still alive. Times have changed, it’s not like our parents days when they valued marriage and would put up a straight face for the sake of the kids yet behind closed doors at times their marriage was falling apart. We never value the sanctity of marriage as much as they used to, till death do us apart no longer seems to apply much, but for those who still do, I salute you. I always hope and pray that I will find a love that lasts forever like my parents had, and today of all days I would do anything to have her dance with my father again. The late Luther Vandross song always plays over and over in my head on this day and always brings tears to my eyes..

Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me and then

Spin me around till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure
I was loved

If I could get another chance
Another walk, another dance with him
I’d play a song that would never, ever end
How I’d love, love, love to dance with my father again

Ooh, ooh

When I and my mother would disagree
To get my way I would run from her to him
He’d make me laugh just to comfort me, yeah, yeah
Then finally make me do just what my mama said

Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me

If I could steal one final glance
One final step, one final dance with him
I’d play a song that would never, ever end
‘Cause I’d love, love, love to dance with my father
again

Sometimes I’d listen outside her door
And I’d hear her, mama cryin’ for him
I pray for her even more than me
I pray for her even more than me

I know I’m prayin’ for much too much
But could You send back the only man she loved
I know You don’t do it usually
But Lord, she’s dyin’ to dance with my father again
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream

Peace and Blessings always,Vionna

Of Classical Events and Such like Fusions

You know Vionna likes to watch and make observations after all, that’s why my blog is called vionnaswatching. Well I’ve made a few observations lately especially when it came to one Classical concert I attended recently (for legal purposes let’s pretend any relations to a certain classic concert held recently is pure coincidental) Back to my observations, I was fortunate enough to have grown up in both worlds. The “normal” background and the “Barbie” background as termed by people out there. Anyway I digress much, back to my rants and raves. The classic fusion that was held here in Mombasa meant to be awesome. While being advertised, many thought they would get to see the orchestras that were named performing. Mombasa being a touristic place is full of white people, and most of my white friends too were pretty excited about it. The place was already full by 5:30pm when we got there. As usual all Kenyan events never start on time, the show started at 7:30pm. Many people there came with their kids it was a really nice family affair event. You know there is a but somewhere in that sentence. We hoped we would see one of the orchestras playing but sadly that wasn’t the case. They brought an amazing boy band and I must really stress how amazing they are for the first performance. Now even the Bible says there’s an appointed time for everything. A time and place for boy bands to perform and a time for classical music. I remember hearing a few mumbles behind me, some people didn’t have a single clue who the musicians were, others asking which symphony they were meant to sing and I just smiled to myself. Seated next to us, were some serious groupies of the boy band playing very young girls who were screaming their lungs out making it all to be a hangout concert of some sorts and not the class that comes with classical music( there is a reason why classical music starts with class you know) Now this was a mature crowd full of mature people and when this girls were busy screaming while one of the boys in that band was grinding his waist on stage I just thought to myself the white people and strict lovers of classical music really felt wasted. Personally, I felt wasted. Fortunately Ladysmith Black Mambazo came on stage and redeemed the show. And the boy band groupies that sat next to us sat their tushys down not having any clue who they were. And the night was saved thanks to Lady Smith Black Mambazo. But I’ve got to give credit where it’s due, the boy band and Mambazo’s Diamond on the soles of her shoes collaboration was really something for a show stopping end! It was worth staying till 10pm for it. Below I have simply stated my observations, you don’t have to agree with them but hey, everyone is entitled to their opinion and I’m just stating mine.

1.Why classical music and most Nairobi orchestra choirs are full of white people: MOST white children, the moment they turn three their parents try to enhance their talent, take them for music lessons. They learn to play a music instrument at a very early age and hence tend to appreciate such kind of music not forgetting that their parents make them attend such concerts too at such an early age.

2.Why classical music is not a Kenyan cup of tea event: MOST African/Kenyan children the moment you are able to walk and play outside, you are chased to play outside so fast and come back to eat during lunch, sleep and then go back to play and beaten when you come back home dirty as if we were meant to play while giving any consideration to how dirty we got while playing. The music instruments we played were the old Blueband and Cocoa tins turned upside down and turned into drums if they were not made into cooking jikos for kalongo. We didn’t have time to learn such instruments. For us dirt was good, and having to play the cymbal or flute during music lessons in school was good enough.

3.The Misplaced people who attend such events: Now I know we as Kenyans have a tendency of always wanting to be with it. Just for show or hype, so when we here a classic fusion function we are so there to socialize, wear our leso dresses, big sunglasses and turn it into another Blankets and Wine event. Yet, most people there just come to meet up with friends not having any clue as to what symphony is being played or who’s conducting the band. Maybe that’s why such organizers of such events have to throw in a band that’s not necessarily classical to balance the crowds. A band that I must say is turning out to make women crazy when they start performing, I don’t know if it’s going a little overboard when I liken them to the Beatles, but the way women go into a frenzy when they start performing show’s how talented they are (for safety purposes and fear of getting lynched by women, I will not name the boyband)

4.We need to define between classic and afro fusion: I know I sound like a broken record now, but seriously can we stop with the I’m feeling so African back to my roots I need to dress the part look. It’s becoming to annoying now, even the lesos are complaining. So let’s leave the afro fusion attire for afro fusion events and not turn every bloody event to a Blankets and Wine theme.

5.Last but certainly not least, timing and organizing is important: If you know you have Lady Smith Black Mambazo in your lineup, you need to go the extra mile. Print enough tickets expecting a large crowd and have it in a venue that has enough parking space and plenty of big screens to watch for others. And please for the love of humanity, keep time! Nothing as annoying than arriving for a concert on time and having to wait for more than an hour for the show to start!

Don’t get me wrong, I love how we as Kenyans are embracing the classical, jazz music culture and having our very own Kenyans in orchestras and bands. We’ve started harnessing the skills of our kids now at such an early age which is very commendable. If we manage to stop letting TVs and X Box games to be their babysitters and start teaching them music skills, maybe soon we all will embrace this events whole heartedly. I know classic music is not our thing, we love music that we can dance to and not just close our eyes too, but when we attend such events, can we at least try to pretend we have a clue as to what’s going on musically? And with those few rants, I rest my case as I still feel duped by that classical fusion that was held in Mombasa that didn’t have any orchestra. Even their Safaricom choir would have sufficed. Oops, I just said the name out loud. If this was the first time they were organizing this, I would have let it slip but since it’s not next time make it a classical event will ya?!

Peace and Blessings, Vionna

I Saved My Twins

Now this is probably the most open post I will ever blog about. But it’s October, the month that holds dear to me and one that is important to all women. Breast Cancer awareness month. Now I know many have been joking about it on Twitter, guys having breasts as their avis with pink twibbons on the side and what not, but it’s really a serious matter. Breast and cervical cancer kills 625,000 women every year. That’s a really huge number, but we can do something to prevent it. I’m talking to you ladies out there and maybe by sharing my story as much I love keeping it to myself; I hope it will even move one person to go get their breasts checked

Let me take you back to October 2006: There I was, young in my early twenties so full of life all nonchalant without a care in the world. I was enjoying my life to the full. One day a good friend of mine comes home and tells me her sister cancelled on her and she wanted to go for the free screening test that Mater Hospital were conducting that year and wanted me to accompany her. I thought to myself, well what the heck it’s better than sitting home doing my usual couch potato Saturday ritual of movie watching on the sofa. I dressed up in all pink just to compliment the whole breast cancer awareness month. We reached Mater Hospital at around 11am and the place was already full. Now I’m a very impatient person and there was no way I would wait in line. I remember telling my friend that I didn’t have big boobs like her, there was no point in even having mine checked. Yet she insisted since we were already there, we should just stay and wait. I had my MP3 player on; lips pouted all sulky not talking to my friend. After a long wait, we went to get our information put on record by one of the nurses. I remember answering her with attitude when she asked me when I had my first period, if I was on any contraception pills, cases of cancer in my family and I answered her rudely telling her I didn’t want to be there in the first place, I was just bringing my friend to get her boobs checked. I think she was used to girls like me, she looked at my chest and asked: “Judging by your chest I presume you are a girl?” I kept my mouth shut afterwards and stopped showing her attitude. We were given numbers, went back and sat down waiting to be called by the nurses to get checked. It was 12:00pm by then, I was really hungry, and I really get cranky when hungry and since our number wasn’t going to be called out anytime soon, I decided to leave the hospital and go get something to eat. I came back when some of the breast cancer survivors were sharing their stories and that’s when it dawned on me, breast cancer is real. These were ordinary women just like me, some very young saying how cancer doesn’t discriminate regardless of age or color. Finally at around 3:00pm our numbers were called out, instead of us getting checked at the tent that was outside, the group I was in was told to go inside the hospital. My friend went in first; she was out in less than 5 minutes. I knew it would be a breeze for me too. In I went crossing my fingers that it was a woman who was going to do my examination and not some guy (I was still young and naïve then) thank God it was a very friendly female nurse. She told me to unbutton my blouse as she read my history then started feeling on my breasts. I noticed her face changed when she felt my left breast. She felt it again, and then called another nurse. The other nurse felt it too and called a male doctor. So here I was, scared of what was going on, half-naked with three people feeling on my boobs. They tried to act all calm when they told me they felt some abnormal lumps on my left breast it might be nothing but just to be safe they scheduled me for a biopsy two weeks from then. I dressed up calmly like nothing was wrong; my friend was outside with a very anxious face wondering what was going on inside there. I told her I was told to come back two weeks from then in a very casual manner. I went home, showed my mum and sister the results and tried to act so nonchalant about it. I was scared inside and angry at God, Life and everyone. I had just lost my dad January of that year, and now this. We had barely recovered from the financial burden of losing a bread winner and all I could think about was how I didn’t want to burden my mum again with this. My aunt had come visiting that day, and she is a nurse. So she had me strip down again (if I had a penny for all the people who felt on my boobs that day) she felt it and she also confirmed she felt something. That’s when I started panicking. All I kept saying was I didn’t want to walk around with one boob. I’d rather die than live without my breasts. I really was young and naïve then:-)

Last week of October 2006: Finally the day arrived. I was so nervous, I didn’t want to show it on my face but I was really scared. My friend wanted to take me to hospital, my mum offered too, everyone kept calling me offering to take me but I just wanted to go there alone. I didn’t want to break down in front of anyone so I went in there alone, I found a young girl my age who also was told to come back for more further tests. We really bonded with her and the wait become bearable. She went in first, got her tests done again and came out with a smile on her face. I felt so relieved for her and somewhat for me too. By now I had gotten used to the male doctors and them touching my breasts and squeezing them over and over again, but this time the squeezing was really painful. The doctor then took a needle that was almost as big as my arm; I thought I would faint at that moment from the size of that thing. He then inserted the needle on my left breast and out came fat mixed with blood. That’s when I asked the doctor what the hell he was doing to my breast, and told me it was a biopsy to remove a sample of the suspicious breast cells to determine whether the cells were cancerous. Afterwards a sample of it was taken back to the lab, I was then taught on how to do my own BSE while taking a shower to always check out for lumps. My left breast was paining then, I couldn’t even move my left arm afterwards. Waiting for the results from the lab was the longest wait ever for me. I sat there waiting to be called back while praying crossing my fingers and regretting why I came alone. Right then all I wanted was my mum to hold my hand and tell me all was well. Finally the results came back, and the doctor with a smile on his face told me that the lump on my breasts were benign and not cancerous but just too be safe its best for them to be removed. I was more than elated when I heard the news. Sure I was in pain but it was a smooth walk in walk out procedure. The next few days my left breast was still swollen, I developed a fever and massaging it every day to reduce the swelling was the most painful thing but I was glad I had me a happy ending

Back to October 2011: It is Breast Cancer awareness month again. Every year I always go for my checkups faithfully just to make sure I’m lump free. I just thought I would share my story out there to women who think that BSE won’t save your life. Breast Cancer can affect anyone, and it can be prevented if caught on time. Ladies, we all know men love our twins whether real or silicon based, so why not appreciate our breasts as much as they do and feel your breasts this month and go have them checked professionally too. I love my twins; I don’t know what I would do without them. I managed to save my twins, it’s time we all tried saving them twins’ ladies and gents too! Remember guys get them checked as well breast cancer affects you too. I remember when one couldn’t even say breast, let alone breast cancer. Women did not say that word out loud then, but that has changed quite a bit over the years. In the words of Debbie Wasserman Schultz: Every woman needs to know the facts, and the fact is when it comes to breast cancer, every woman is at risk. I’ve gone pink and done my part, it’s time to do yours.

Peace and Blessings, Vionna