REHANA BLOGS

I think the best place is home. My home. I don't mean that as in, home is where the heart is, or all those other idiotic idioms that have no place in this post. I mean that home, my home, is just simply the best place I've ever been to. The best part: The Sunrise and the Sunset. Every day brings different hues brightening up the sky, livening up the horizon, vividly tracing individual cloud linings into a majesty of form and color. I don't know, the imagery does seem very inadequate, but perhaps that's the best I can do. Here it is. A Sunset at my place.

Wanna study, can't. Wanna write, can't. Wanna party, can't. Wanna freak out over something, can't. Lol... Lots of things I can't do at the moment... Hopefully, that will alter in some time (no point in stressing it, right?) :) Whats the probability that a guy wearing a t-shirt that reads 'It's all fun and games till the cops show up' gets caught by the cops for driving without a license? Read: 1 in 200000. So what's the probability that I would know this guy? Nil. You'd think so. You'd be right? Nope.. You'd be wrong.. LOL! What's the probability that in one hostel, two people boiling water in an electric kettle can trip a fuse that causes power to fluctuate and cause one certain person's mobile charger to give up the battle against the sudden infusion of juice into its system? Nil? Wrong. There's no way I can do this to yet ANOTHER phone. First one: Lost. Second: Stolen. Third: Didn't luck out either. Why do I always hear...

As Barack Obama made history by getting elected the 44 th president of the United States , they yelled. They shouted. They cried. They laughed. They sobbed. And they sung. They clapped hands and hugged as Obama was proclaimed the winner. I’m not talking about the African- Americans. Nope. I’m talking about the Africans. The Kenyans. Those chaps who take pride in the fact that Obama is a son of Kenya . That Barack Hussein Obama Sr. was the one person in thirty million who sired the first black president of the United States : the seat of top power. It seems to be somewhat of an irony that the first black president of the US isn’t someone whose family has suffered at the hands of the land or whose ancestors were once slaves but one whose whole life wasn’t governed by the concepts and dynamics of racism and whose roots are firmly entrenched in a small country on that vast continent that was once in the hands of the same white folks who applaud the coming of Obama to the highest s...

I've been reading a lot about Maya Angelou after a new friend from my hostel gave me Maya Angelou's six-pack biography. I loved it. I'm still not finished, but I have read the first two books of the series. The first one, I know why the caged bird sings, really captured my heart. I know its considered inspirational, and truth to tell, it WAS inspirational. I Googled up Maya Angelou, and discovered that she's a much more important person in the history of Black America than I previously thought. She's written quite a bit of poetry, but this one is one of my favorites. I hope you'll enjoy it too. PHENOMENAL WOMAN 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 int...

Wow!!!! I just realized that it's been over 2 months since I last posted here. Well, an interesting tidbit for you guys: I've started an anonymous blog.:) It's quite the latest in political parody and the discrediting of some fellows on the world scene: MY WAY!!! Unfortunately, I've heard quite a bit about blog-haters turned stalkers, and since the situation in Kenya is a bit too volatile for anything of this level, I've had to keep it under wraps. But I do hope you Stumble Upon it someday, and get to enjoy it! As a matter of fact, I've had a few hundred hits already and its only been up a few days!:) Yay... Maybe now, Google Adsense will finally work for me!:) UPDATE: I've been on a travel rampage. Visited Nairobi for a coupla days (it was Fuckin Cold, then!), and went on to Nakuru, where it was remarkably hot! In Nakuru, spent a day at the Nakuru National Park, and if you're a friend, you've heard about the Rhino story. If you're not.. Too bad....

How many of us argue for the sake of arguing? I do it a lot. I don’t know. I just like the concept of knowing more than there is to know. Does that make sense? It’s not like I have fun annoying other people. Although maybe I do. We all do, right? I was having a chat with a friend the other day and he sort of mentioned that he hates arguing with people who think they’re right and aren’t willing to listen to a different viewpoint whatsoever. He feels, apparently, that if you know you’re right, you’ve got to have the facts to back up the fact that you know you’re right. Facts. Plural. Arguing over something when you’ve only one single solitary piece to stand up for you doesn’t count. Cut the crap. Move on. Tell me. Convince me that you’re right. And then maybe I’ll believe you. Or maybe I’ll come up with a stronger argument to support my case. At the very least, I’ll annoy you merely by disagreeing with the fact that you’re right. Wow. That was a lot of you’re right. Actually, the con...

How do you talk to someone about what you’re feeling at any particular moment and expect them to relate to you? How do you start writing a book when you have no idea what its going to be about? How do you meet the person you want to be with for the rest of your life for the first time in your life? How do you judge someone who’s done a horrible thing harshly and not understand the true concept of judgment? How do you ask someone to lie and cover for your mistake when you have no account of the entirety of the repercussions of that mistake? I know. So many questions. So many answers. So many choices. So many decisions. I start a discussion with someone and I know they can’t give me the perspective I want. They just can’t. Because what I’m asking from them is something they can’t give, not because they’ve never experienced it but because they’ve never thought it. I can count on one hand the people I know who are conscious of each decision they make, every time they make it. I’m not one o...

We were robbed yesterday night. Time: 1.26 AM. Details: 3 armed thugs entered the house. Beat my mum and threatened to cut off her arm if she didn’t cooperate and give them money. Hit my father with a rungu. Bashed my uncle’s head with the butt of a gun. Forced our security guard to lie on the floor inside the house after giving him a thorough beating. How they entered: They followed my uncle’s car into the gate, before the security guard could shut it. They got away with plenty of things. I was sleeping in my cousin’s room upstairs, since we were having guests. My mum and dad were in my room. They got into it, and turned everything upside down. They made off with my wallet, two cameras, my memory cards, my laptop bag, and plenty of other miscellaneous things. They also made off with quite a lot of money, and a bit of jewelry from our guests. What is the world coming to?

Had a darned good time on the safari this weekend! Here's a pic of a wild baboon that attempted some really good poses for us! I just love this pic.. He looked like he wanted to lift my camera a minute ago! Oh well, at least I captured him looking somewhat disappointed! I'll have the whole story sometime this week with lots and lots of pics!:)

In our lives, there are two kinds of people. Those who see the potential we have, and those who don't. If one is fortunate, then one has plenty of the former in their lives, as compared to the later. It is these people who inspire us, encourage us to perform to the best of our abilities. It is they who give us the courage to be what WE want to be, and not what others want us to become. Mrs. Khan was my teacher in Kensec. Before that, she was my tuition teacher when I was in Memon. It was she who built my dreams, who encouraged me to do something few girls had ever attempted, she who saw the person I could be one day. I am thankful that she was there, when I graduated as an electronics engineer. She gave me a hug that day, when I met her for the first time after completing my course. She's never hugged me before. When she died, the world lost something. So many students, so many people who looked up to her, were lost, left defeated, at the magnitude of the evil that was done to...

In this land, this land of the living, there are three things worth noting. First. The world is flat. It goes on and on and on. Second. Fire roars, and destroys before you even know it’s touched you. All living beings come into contact with fire at one point or another in their lives. Freaks me out. Three. We love being loved, but we can’t give that love back. It’s like we’re not emotionally capable of doing that. The human mind is weird in that manner. If no-one wants to give love, then no-one can receive it. Weird. Past, present, future; it all adds up to one thing. Time. We go on and on, and live out our days. But there are days that we relive again and again and again. I’m looking forward to tomorrow with bright eyes, even though I’ve lived it a thousand times. Every time I raise my eyes to see something, I experience that feeling that I’ve seen it before. Not just once. It’s like déjà vu, only a hundred times worse. There are conversations I have that I’ve had five years ago. ...

Forever etched on this stone lies a little bit of what I used to be. On this stone is a memory that is etched in my brain, as though with glass. It is this stone that is responsible for my foray into the land of the living. A person can never have too many memories, and yet I do. I have too many memories. Memories tied to this stone, memories that remain on this stone, even as it undergoes a daily drenching by this water of this ocean. They are memories of a life that once lived, that had a place in this world, a life that had yet to be fulfilled. A life that was wiped out of existence long ago. A life that managed to take only the essence of true friendship away, and left everything else behind. On this stone, this rock on this beach are etched memories of two girls, who sat together and played snakes and ladders, holding the board firmly against the wind. On this stone, two small lives talked about the presence of ghosts, and spirits. On this stone, two spirits met and bonded a...

A few weeks ago, as my mum was cooking in the kitchen, she put the potatoes on one side of the counter,next to the window as she went off towards the fridge, gathering the other ingredients for a potato curry. When she came back, two were gone. Who took them? The next thing that disappeared was a little brush for a litle girl, taken from the first floor room of my little niece. With a silver handle, and a lovely little mirror on one side, it's loss was a mystery. Who took it? In the rack outside the kitchen, where abound onions and potatoes, and bananas just off the market, things started running off by themselves. Or did someone take them? Then, as my grand-aunt sat in the living room performing her prayers, there appeared an answer. She's hard of hearing, my grand-aunt, in a slightly comical way. Sometimes, she hears fine, and goes, 'Don't shout in my ears!' Other times, no matter how much one tries to tell her something, she doesn't quite get it, but...

Today morning, at about 8.00 am, when everyone was on their way to work, I was on my way to scout for a job; another day of tracking through projects online, and writing proposals for the ones I felt I felt I was right for. It happened such that I was brooding about the changes that seem to have taken place in this country in the last three months, when I was stopped by a lady officer, who had somehow noticed that the left corner lamp of my car was missing. ' Hili Gari halina taa. Taa likowapi? ' She asked in Swahili. This translates into, 'This car has no light. Where's the light?' When you're stopped by a police officer in any part of Kenya, you should know that you're probably going to end up leaving the scene with a lighter pocket, or wallet, as the case may be. ' Taa imeibiwa, mama. Ilichukuliwa huku posta. ' I said. 'The light has been stolen, Mam, it was taken at the post office.' There was some kind of irony in that, I thought. To hav...

Did I mention that I was a Murph? Well, what happened this weekend merely seems to enhance the fact that I am, in fact, a Murph. As in, I’m a person who is the living, breathing true-to-life proof that Murphy’s Law persists. Since my sister was in a wedding, I volunteered to baby-sit her daughter Alishba, in the process giving up my social life for three days. Three whole days, each of which was exactly twenty four hours; seventy two hours which were more than enough to make me take a firm stand in what I now call the Motherhood is the Toughest Job in the World Cause. How was I ever so ignorant as to think that taking care of babies is a breeze? How did one small baby manage to create in me an exhaustion that is on par with jetlag? And after the whole weekend, I’ve come to the conclusion that Like Aunt, Like Daughter. She seems to be a Murph too. Which I a pity. This world surely doesn’t need more of us. Alishba is ten months old. She’s a fast crawler, and her favorite place is her...

It always seems so ambitious to have a list of the things that you want to do before you become ancient. It is a marvel of our youth that we subject ourselves to big dreams, and when they don't materialize, we tend to blame ourselves, never imagining that maybe we set goals that are just too high for the average youth. nonetheless, we do it. I do not mean to sound extremely uninspiring, I just speak the truth. Nonetheless, here’s my list of things I want to do before I’m 25. Some may be weird, I know, but if you can’t be weird, that you can’t be telling the truth! At least, that’s my philosophy. So here it is: 1) Ride a Motorbike 2) Go bungee-jumping over Victoria falls 3) Eat a triple fudge banana split all on my own 4) Get a pet 5) Google up 3000 different subjects 6) Do a photography course 7) Perform in a drama 8) Write a book on life in college 9) Go camping in the wild 10) Tour Europe 11) Rea...

Tomorrow, I’m going to Malindi. I’ll laze around, have a nice time by the beach and swim in the sea. My muse will act up, and when I get back, I’ll have plenty of interesting stuff to write up on. In fact, I’ll probably have to take a paper napkin with me, in case it’s the big one. You know, the BIG ONE. Like a book. Like Harry Potter. Only, instead of the small, noisy café with the small baby, I’ll be out by myself in the open, with the sound of the waves in my ears and the feel of the soft, silver sand between my toes. Great incentive to be lazy, but greater incentive to feel inspired by all this bounty. When the doors to the mind open, I’ll be there, with my pen in my hand, and the paper napkin on the sand. On the other hand, maybe my muse will decide to play cat and mouse, the way it often does at night. I’ll be thinking of a great idea for a story, but when I pick up the pen, the story’s gone; vanished on wings of silvery moonlight. Once lost, it hardly ever comes back. But when...

In the entire span of my short life, I have missed five flights, two international ones included. Maybe there’s an art to it, I wouldn’t know. It seems remarkably easy, after the first time you do it. And sometimes, it’s just the first flight that matters, and all the connecting ones are lost too. Sometimes, you land in different cities, and sometimes, your luggage gets left in Nairobi, three connecting flights away. In that case, it never helps to make a fuss; you might just as well go on to your final destination, and include the lost luggage in your nightly prayers. In time, it shall make its way to where it was supposed to be in the first place, and if you’re lucky, it’ll only be slightly wet. If you’ve had the foresight to pack it up with plastic paper to avoid moistness, odds are that you won’t be missing your flight in the first place. If you have a habit of chatting all the time, as I do, you have to be more careful. Once, I began chatting with a colleague, and the next thing I...

Sometimes when you meet a person, you instinctively know that that person will feature in your life henceforth. It’s like a decision taken that cannot be accounted for by personal choices; neither taste, nor religion nor race. It’s more a subconscious understanding between two people. If I were poetic, I’d say that it was a meeting of the auras that surround us, before it becomes a conscious meeting. When you read The Fountainhead, you come across this scenario, where Howard Roark meets Dominique’s husband for the first time. He comes prepared to hate Gail Wynand for being his lover’s husband, and yet, that first time the two meet; there is no consciousness of anything apart from the feeling that they’ve known each other forever; that perhaps they were part of the same soul in another life. Past relationships cease to exist in that moment, and Dominique becomes just another person in both their lives. It is an inherent feature of human beings in this world that we tend to believe i...

Ever since we’ve moved into this house; which is apparently in a residential area even though its half jungle, we’ve been surrounded by all sorts of animals, mostly of the normal domestic variety such as the goats that wander around eating off most of the lawn outside the walled garden, to the cats that try to get into the kitchen from atop the walls thereby getting themselves electrocuted, to the strange mongrel breeds of dogs that sometimes see fit to keep our security man on the alert. To a family that has never seen the use of pets of the animal sort in the house, apart from a rat-catcher in the early nineties, which was thrown out for having kittens and eating them; the concept of being an animal magnet is a strange one. When one observes the types of fauna to be found in the vicinity of man, one is almost certain to discount the presence of camels and monkeys. And yet, these are the very animals that seem to have found a home in us. When we first moved to the new house, it...

The Howard Roark of Indian Cinema has done it again! It’s been a few weeks since Taare Zameen Par made its debut into this world of mediocrity, and what a glorious debut it was. Splendid, fantastic, emotive, touching, extraordinary; are but a few words that can be used to describe this movie, and even they don’t provide justice to the utter magnificence, the utter beauty of Taare Zameen Par. If you’re an Indian, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re a foreigner, you still have to try and watch it, with sub-titles or without; the meaning of the movie remains unchanged even with the barrier of language. TZP is a movie about a little boy trying to find his place in the world. He is young, and has his future mapped out by his parents scholastically. After trying to fit in with his class students, he discovers that it is impossible for him to study in the classroom. What follows is a spate of rebelliousness, in which he starts exploring the wonders of life; riding a bus through the...

Whatever can go wrong, will. Murphy’s Law, somehow, doesn’t seem to apply to people who are smart, ultra-efficient and organized, people who know where they want to go. It applies to the scatter-brained people; those who wake up, and discover that nothing they do today will cause their hair to behave. These are the people who help old ladies cross the street, but miss their tram to work; who take time to don good clothes for an interview and get splashed; who have a good laugh imitating their boss, only to discover him standing behind them. I have been steam-rollered by Murphy my entire life. From missing flights, to finding myself about to be eaten by a croc, I have discovered Murphy riding on my shoulder. It’s as if he’s guiding you into more mischief. For all but a few of us, Murphy is non-existent. He preys more on the dreamers than the doers. Most doers are people who enjoy living their lives, and are subliminally confident that nothing can go wrong. They waltz through life, ...

A stranger, a shadowy figure, No warmth at all. Preaching to appreciate The value of valuable, Shunning them all. Dwelling in the past, Fearing for the future. Existing not living. Each word, each promise, Invisible to the world. Secrets are safe, The person not quite. The self to himself not known. Doing some, believing another, The voice is gone. Careful of your friends, Trust not this stranger. Uncaring and cold. Standing apart from himself, Wrecked and catching. Having it all, Having none. Begging, pleading. searching. Finding the bridge, Daring to cross. The seasons are changing, Spring has come. No one to water. No one to tend. Darkness in light, a stranger reborn. This is a poem written by one of my friends. I think it's lovely. Please do give your comments. :)

When Kenya first became a republic, in the year 1964, a freedom fighter, Jomo Kenyatta, came to the fore, and was declared the first president of Kenya . He sat on the throne from 1963 to 1978. He had been a war veteran, involved in the MauMau uprising, and consequently, had spent a lot of time in prison. He was the pioneer of political leadership in the land, and unfortunately for the Kenyans, managed to wear the mantle of leadership very fixedly upon his shoulders. The ashes of the British Empire in Kenya had not yet begun to settle when the first rumbles of discontent were heard. Crime was high. Birth rate was high. Poverty levels continued to ascend, as slums began to rise up from previously prospering areas. Why was this great country bowed so low? At the time of independence, the economic status was at par with most of the Asian countries. Ten years later, Kenya was just another third world country. The world was laughing. What had happened? Ignorance had its uses, a...

I sometimes volunteer to sit at the shop, and be a sales-girl when life becomes too mundane for me. In this case, having volunteered for a stint at the shop, I had to leave from home at 2.00 pm, along with Sam, the other sales-girl, so that we could get to the shop and open it by three. This was during the time of the post-election riots, but since we sell bread, which is essential to most of the living in Mombasa , staying at home like sane people do was never an option. We called up one fellow called Richard, who happens to own a tuk-tuk asking him to come and pick us. In case you’re wondering, a tuk-tuk is a Thai word which means Auto-Rickshaw. In Swahili slang, the word tuk-tuk is substituted for piki-piki . By now, you must be coming to the conclusion that in Swahili, syllables are oft repeated to make the word; which is a rather hasty conclusion to be making of this language, for no other words have repeated syllables. Richard, unfortunately, had left for his village, ...

When I look at you I see the woman I could become I see the laughter lines, I see the bright smile I see the twinkle in those eyes, the smooth walk I see those hands, soft, graceful, I look at you, and I see the woman I want to be When I look at you I see what I want you to see I see what I want you to notice I see your beauty, your grace, your loveliness I see your eyes, free of shadows, free of pain I see the love, radiating from your face When you look at me You see a woman, broken and bent You see someone, who has lost the will to live You see a person, stiff from sitting for twenty one years You see this woman, who aches to be whole again You see a cripple, staring at you in envy When you look at me You feel what I feel, broken inside You come up, and you look into my eyes, You stare into them, and then you understand You look up at the blue sky, and you laugh You listen to those waves, pounding, and you grin You turn arou...

After everything that has happened in this country, the election of the Speaker for the Parliament and Legislative council was a bit of an anticlimax. The rich ones are still in the fight of the High Seat, and the poor are in the fight for their lives. And yet, the two seem to merge, in that their needs can be considered to be quite similar. If by similar, one can equate life with power. Or food with influence. It is laughable, really, that the president of a democratic country has lost the respect of his people, his subjects. For what else can one call it, when the members of parliament refuse to pledge allegiance to him. Let us start off with the scenario that took place when a lawyer by the name of Ababu Namwamba was sworn in. He had to make the pledge three times. The first time, he said that we would be a subject of his president, Mr. Raila Odinga, and of the democratic republic of Kenya . Now why he would mention Mr. Odinga, when the president’s name is Mwai Kibaki, is beyo...

In the early dawn, the sun rose, the rooster crowed My people woke up, and greeted me with blood They wiped their eyes of sleep, and followed the river Of mankind, that swarmed the cities To quench their thirst, and their appetite They took their pangas, and mshales To rid my people of their life’s blood They burned houses, killed, maimed, And then they called it ethnic cleansing. I ask of them, Am I of one tribe? Am I Kikuyu, or Luo? Kalenjin, or Kamba? Do I not harbour all of you? Then they know the answer, and they think I am a fool Is not my earth red enough, from the previous bloodshed? Did the loved ones buried in me die in vain? Those fighters, those lovers; did they not spill the red in their veins, so you could have a better life? What makes them think that violence is the answer? Have they not learnt, from the past? Have they forgotten what the red stands for, in my flag? Who will remind them? Who will make that effort? I pick...