Untitled Part II

As I looked down at the paper in my hand, my heart raced in anticipation; battling in my mind what the content of the note would be. I thought I knew this feeling; this careless restlessness. I wanted to open it but Shelia, my colleague who professionally runs her mouth with every chance she gets, shouted my name from across the room where this guy, the guy who sent the note, stood. I guzzled that bubbly liquid and allowed it to do a confidence magic in me as I slowly walked across the room to meet them with the piece of paper nicely folded in my hand. As my mind continued to ask questions around what the note would contain, I begun to wonder whether this was the guy that Shelia kept talking about him being a potential partner. I then asked myself why would he be sending me a note and yet we do not even know each other. “Is he interested in me?”, “Does he like me…Oh my GOD!!!” Finally, someone noticed me in a party graced by ‘the people.” I was barely two meters away from the pair when suddenly, my next step was met by the firmly crossed legs of this gentleman and as though the crimpled, yellow linen dress was not enough, I lost my footing and found myself on the floor staring at the ceiling of the Equatorial Ballroom. Shelia in a panic run towards me yelling for assistance together with this guy. His fragrance then met my nose as he checked whether I had any injuries not knowing that I was in a different place and different time with him. I could not help it…! He had this intense look that sent my eyes locking with his. My imagination was running wild and wild in space. My body felt present in the room and so close to him as he checked my hand for a pulse. Then that tingly sensation down my spine and everything sounded musical. “Elsie, are you okay?” he asked. With a cracking voice I said yes whilst shaking my head sideways. I eventually stood upright and managed to disperse the small crowd of senior executives when I said repeatedly I am fine whilst straightening the yellow number that I had on. “You scared me,” Shelia shrieked. “I’m fine,” I reassured her as I sat in the chair on my left. She then introduced him as her date Davies. I swallowed hard as I stretched my hand to shake his. My hand in his and I felt the hair on my neck stand. “That was quite a fall…I hope you did not injure yourself in the process?” I grabbed another flute and took a long sip off it and listened to how these two met at this monthly writers’ forum and have been exchanging ideas on what articles to write and such like writer conversations – the latest book on the shelf; the new poet; styles of writing…! After a while, chance presented itself. Shelia walked away to use the bathroom and Davies then leaned in and asked me whether I had read his note…Meanwhile, the note that was my hand had now disappeared in the odd one hundred feet that stood in the ballroom.

Here is to Diversity and Stuff

Wow…so as usual, I planned my Friday evening to sleep in whilst at the hotel being my last night. And I met this lady whom I have spotted on the hotel grounds a couple of times. One time, I even met her on the steps as I was ransacking my handbag for my room keys. The humidity was killing me and I had waiter carrying my 8 bottles of Dasani to my room because you always have to hydrate or risk passing out due to thirst. So this lady has a sporty body and I promise almost looks like one of the William’s sisters. Note as well I had seen her when I landed in Mombasa whilst I was heading to catch my transfer to the hotel.

As my night unfolded my stomach was rumbling. I am not sure how this is possible because the last couple of days I’ve been stuffing myself like a turkey and I just could not stop eating. I am full but my stomach does not agree with me in this case. Seriously, there is a problem. My stomach looks like I am pregnant at 6months but I still want to eat. Somebody, explain.

So I dash to the Pavilion restaurant and I meet this lady again seated by herself and I decide to join her since a friend of mine earlier challenged me to step outside my box and meet new people and see new perspectives and way of life. So I did. And she welcomed me with my laptop (anti-social tool) and she thinks I am working through the night…and so I nod my head and excuse myself to serve myself.
I come back with some pieces of the bird and settle into a conversation with her. We talk about the weather; her business ventures; her 19 year old son; how she does not trust men; her Italian ambassador boyfriend...this lady could talk. PAUSE: as she was chatting away and entertaining me, I stopped for a minute to reflect on my life: She is 3 years older than me; had her son when she was 12 years old; she does not know her mom who left them when they were 2 or 3 months old; her father who died 2 years ago was a polygamist who left 29 kids behind, with her being the 1st born etc.

I am 30 on June 21, 2010. I have in the desire to mother my own kids soon; my mother and father are alive and well and our relationship is just the best….I could not ask for anything more or less; I know by 3 siblings and love them deeply and I am my dad’s 1st daughter and his 2nd born.
I enjoyed my session with her as I exchanged with her my career status as well as my personal scorecard. And she was enthralled by the fact that at a young age working for 6 years with a big company; living by myself; have Sasha so close to my heart I sound like the white folks; I do not have a boyfriend and my fear of getting my heart broken…!

But my session with her was just an eye opener to the fact that we all look to each other for different things. I guess even that boss of yours might look to you and admire for something you have in your life. I guess we cannot have everything that we dream and aspire for. Like she was in Mombasa on holiday; she’d lived in Europe for close to 9 years; she loves to shop in New York…etc. That is every woman’s dream. I wear black, framed BVLGARI glasses and come out looking inapproachable but to someone else, they want the glasses so that they can send a message to the world not to mess with her etc. I think we should learn from each other and borrow lessons of life from one another to enrich us further.

Now to the funny, I had breakfast again with her after I overslept and was rushing to the airport at 10.30am for an 11.50am flight….I know (It’s never that serious) I guess when you get to Mombasa, things begin to slow down and I guess if you are there long enough you will also take things slowly.

So now I am hurrying to the check-out desk and asking for a porter to take my bags to the car that is not there…so now I am boiling for my self-inflicted inconvenience. So I breathe in deeply as the Sales Manager manages to catch me for a quick chat. As he blabbers away, I cannot help but look at my watch just calculating the amount of time needed to get to the airport and check in. I notice he realized that he stood between me and my flight back to Nairobi. So our goodbyes and off we go with this sweaty driver in a humid air-tight vehicle. What did I do to deserve this whilst in Mombasa…?

On the way, you notice very few people on the streets and on enquiring the driver says it is a work day. I asked then why there is so much traffic. This is when the my imaginative mind went to a scene where I was evacuated from the vehicle as a chopper landed and white sand lifted off of the ground because of the air that was span around by the blades that cut through the air. In my shades and black sun dress, I evacuated the car and make my way to the chopper as people stood still to watch the drama…Screeeeeeeech….the ACTUAL breaks of the car that was back to back in traffic with a trailer in front of us. Back to reality, I ask him if there is another route to use to the airport since we had not made any head way the last 15minutes. He looked and me like “are you kidding me…don’t you rush me,” and I went back into the recline position at the back seat.

I then dialed the travel agent and asked her to check me in, and she could not do anything about it. But the good news was that I was able to catch the flight because it was now delayed by an hour to 1230..meaning I could check in at 11am…I shouted “God watches over me…”

So we get to the airport….no que (thankfully) and this attendant tells me “No we cannot check you in.” I immediately dropped my handbag and asked him why, and he responds by calling his manager because my facial expression instilled fear in him. So his manager comes and she says to me I am late and I ask her “are you checking me in or not…cos as far as I know the plane hasn’t even landed” so she says “how do you know…?” and I tell her I have my sources! KQ love to torture their clients…a story for another day.

Anyway, the plane has landed and now I leave you….Reporting live from The Mombasa International Airport, this is Elsie Wandera signing of for the day

Mix them Gather Them

I want to be as honest with my view as I possibly can without sound like I am pointing a finger at you

To hang or not to hang...

I am at the coast right now and I am enjoying the sun...however, enjoying the sun is relative because I see these different people on the beach just letting loose and letting it all out, letting it hang out. I know you are wondering with me I know....

How then do we call ourselves a "with the times market" when we cannot walk around with a swim suit and not feel the pressure or issue around whether we actually look sexy and stuff.

I ask this because if I remember well in the old days of our ancestors there were outfits that we used to where once upon a time used to expose certain body parts. Ladies would walk exposing their breasts as a sign of beauty; men would walk bear-chested etc and many more...

My question therefore becomes, why is it such a big issue to walk with a swim suit and un-cool and therefore cover yourself with bikers, big floppy tees etc?

Be sexy; be proud of your body...if not, don't cause us unnecessary eye sores just cause you are trying to hide your sins of yesterday

Yours Truly
Elle Ce Ce Nabs