Embarrassing Visits to the Doctor

How many of you have ever dropped their pants before a doctor? Raise your hand a little higher please? I thought so…. no one has their hand up, but if you are in your twenty-something year, there is high chances you are lying.

Recently, I was faced with a predicament. To go or not to go..to the doctor, that is. To wait for the problem to go away, or to go and confirm it’s not what I hope it’s not. Yaani, I’m even embarrassed to think about it. So I mentally prepared myself for a whole week, like what am I going to say and all.

There are very many types of doctors; but let’s just put them in two categories. Private doctors and public doctors. Private doctors are friendly, patient and all…and the public doctors who don’t give er… who don’t really care to put you at ease. In fact, they go to the extreme to make you utterly uncomfortable, staring at you like, “can you speak up?” (I got a million other patients to see and my colleagues are making a killing in private practice. Plus I need to take a piss, so hurry the hell up and say something.)

You can imagine where university doctors fall.

Since I don’t want to narrate my experience, I’ll narrate my friend’s experience. I swear it wasn’t me.

So she took a deep breath, and took the short walk to hospital. She found a queue, as always and spent 10 minutes rehearsing what she’ll say when she got in. She was hoping to find a female doctor, but she found a fatherly male doc. She entered, sat down and waited. He asked her name, picked up her file, scanned it and asked, “So what’s the problem?”

“I have a boil in the inner lip of my vagina.”

I’m sure the doctor can tell a rehearsed line. So he said,

“Drop your pants.”

Ha ha. He didn’t actually say that but he did get her out of her pants onto the examination table. The doc probed her and there (of course with gloves) and finally the examination was over.

Just a minor fungus infection. Phew. Now off she went to the Pharmacy to get a long list of prescribed drugs, including lots of amoxyll tablets. You can never go to the university hospital and leave without amoxyll tablets. Whether you have malaria or a headache or a cold.

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Wamathai Exclusive Spoken Word

Wamathai.com will host another spoken word event on Friday, the 5th of August 2010 and the program is as follows:

The event will be hosted by Dela

Performances by: Wanjeri Gakuru, Jemedari, Wanjiku Mwaurah, Kevin Gachuma, Mike Kwambo, Njeri Wangari, Anyiko Owoko, Immah & others

Music by: Skiza & Lele

The Screening of Mark Kaigwa’s Film Dawa

An after party with DJ Steel playing Afro-Fusion & Neo Soul

Other Details

Date: 5th August

Venue: VIP Secrets Lounge, View Park Towers Nairobi

Time: 7.00 PM till Late

Charges: Kshs. 300 in Advance

The tickets are only 100 so reserve yours as soon as possible by calling/texting 0722352239 or emailing wamathai(at)wamathai.com

Come and enjoy a unique night of poetry & music!

P.S.
Don’t forget to vote here for this blog in the Action Category of the first Kenyan blogging contest.

The KaToyo Phenomenon- Part II

First of all, before you read this, go here and vote for this blog.

She replied

She replied:

Let me admit I was caught a little bit by surprise. Although all along
I knew this “our relationship” would come to an end, I didn’t expect it to
happen on the morning after spending the first night in bed with you. Given a
choice I would also have wanted the end to come on a Saturday morning, not on a
cold Sunday, though no big deal we girls need some little time to adjust and do
a “What went wrong “ review with the girlfriends. Nonetheless since it’s over
let me do a quick evaluation, just like you did.

So you say all along it had been an ego thing, well I knew that. Come
on buddy we know your type of men: not more than seven years into employment,
earning a salary of not more than sixty thousand shillings, qualified for a
personal loan, which you take to stock your houses and more importantly to buy
a cheap car, yeah a Toyota or Nissan. And because you got a car and what,
according to your peers’ looks like a good job, you expect all girls to fall
head over heels for you. Hence you visit what you call “ wannabe “ joints where
you expect to find hot, career but harebrained girls who will go crazy once
they see your low cost vehicle. To you: Hot career girl + Toyota = Bragging rights among boys. Silly!

My madcap friend Fridah has aptly nicknamed men like you Katoyo, after Toyota , and it’s she who
told us girls how important it is to have a Katoyo in our lives. “They come in
handy, you don’t have to worry about being dropped home after a night out with
the girls, or the cost of hip fashion items or the occasional thousand or two,
you know such things”

Thus it was not by coincidence I was at that club in Westlands dressed
in that red hot short skirt. It was planned. Your pal’s girlfriend had told me
all about you, even going to an extent of tactfully asking your friend to hook
us up. Whether I looked tawdry or not, it matters little for you fell for
me…and that was the whole point of it.

You again say it was boring to listen to my problems…I manufactured
some of them. Men like you think girls are weak and need to be comforted
always. If I played strong, I would have missed out on the goodies that came
with your sympathy; the chocolates and pizza delivered to my workplace so as
for me to “know someone cares”.

It was by coincidence that my birthday fell on the second month of our
relationship, what was not happenstance was telling you about it when watching
that phone ad Since it hit the market last year, I had always dreamed of owning
one, but forking eleven thousand six hundred for a phone, not me, not now. I
got my priorities right. Thanks anyway.

That umbrella episode was not my idea. It was raining at Adams , when I called Fridah

“Girlfriend. Its raining like hell here and imagine I didn’t carry my
umbrella”

“That should teach you a lesson. But hey just a minute, why can’t you
tell your katoyo to bring you one”

“Come on I can’t do that, I don’t think he will agree”

“Girl you need some lessons, kwani what do you think toyos are for?
Tell him to bring it”

After this conversation I was there on the phone begging you to bring
an umbrella…and true to Fridah in two hours there you were delivering a new
umbrella. I never pitied a man that much. How could you come all the way from
Ruaraka just to bring me an umbrella, something I could have bought at a local
shop? Anyway within minutes of you leaving I was back on the phone with Fridah.

“Imagine kameleta”

“Sinilikuambia”

I slept with you at last. It wasn’t the new drink as you think. There
is nothing wrong with rewarding a katoyo with some love. The reason I postponed
sleeping with you for as long as possible was so that you could continue with
your efforts to conquer me, of course with goodies. And dude I love sex, and
for those last six months somebody else had been taking care of that small
business.
regards…..


P.S.
In case you didn’t vote the first time, go here and vote for this blog in the Action Category of the first Kenyan blogging contest.

The kaToyo Phenomenon: Part I

First of all, before you read this, go here and vote for this blog.

This is not essentially a new phenomenon. A kaToyo is your regular about-to-but-not-yet-made-it guy. He drives a cheap car (Toyota, most likely) and has an okay-ish job.

a Katoyo guy

The ever resourceful Switcheeks emailed me these two letters that will shed the light. I hope you enjoy it; and get enlightened too. I’m here to offer educainment.

Part One: The Guy’s Letter

ou can’t imagine how anxiously I have been waiting for this moment when I get to tell you as it is. And by some coincidence this delightful point in time has fallen on a cold Sunday morning, the perfect weather and day for a confession.

What attracted me to you was not that short red skirt you had put on the first day I met you, actually I thought you looked tacky. It was the other men, ogling at your butt as you danced that drew my attention to you. At the table I was sitting at that wannabes’ club in Westlands, a guy, drooling,commented what a lucky man he who wins you would be. There and then I decided to be the fortunate man, just to satisfy my ego and make my friends and other men envious. I had a head start since one of your girlfriends was my
buddy’s lover or something of the sort. So when you said you were leaving, having drunk enough courtesy of my friend, he asked me to drop you home. Do you remember how you sat on the front seat of my Toyota Camry, as if the car belonged to us and not me?

That was the start of a long weary six months. The thing I detested most during this period was listening to your never ending problems. Like the time you told me your boss was mad at you because of a typographical error you had made, or the other occasion you claimed the boss was “stressing” you with too much work. Though I held your shoulders and asked you not to worry for that was life, I honestly thought you should have been fired for incompetence.

And was it by coincidence that your birthday fell on the last day of the second month of our relationship? And you chose to tell me about it while we were watching an advertisement of the new phone in the market? Anyhow I got the hint and bought you the phone as a birthday present. There were better ways I could have spent the over eleven thousand shillings it cost me to purchase it. But this was the price I had to pay for bragging rights among my friends and the big prize, which was taking too long to come.Literally.

I did make a mistake by praising your hair and elegant sense of fashion. You capitalized on this to take me to countless exhibition stalls, where knowing very well you didn’t have money with you or was not willing to
spend , you fit all sorts of clothes, calling me to the changing room and asking “ Swiry how do I look? ”. The answer each time was “Great” and immediately after more than a few notes would be emptied from my wallet. I was burning inside but endured since I knew eventually there would be a rapturous reward.

Then there was that other instance when it was raining and I was in Ruaraka.You told me to bring you an umbrella to your workplace at Adams Arcade, supposedly because your hair would lose its glow if it were rained on. Of course I did bring the umbrella, not because I cared about your hair, but since the following day I was to show you off to the boys. Green with envy they, shamelessly, asked me how you performed in bed.

As always I said you were the best, knowing very well for over five months and despite all my goodwill you had never spent a single night at my place or showed me what you wore underneath the clothes I bought you.

But it happened yesterday. Perhaps it’s the new drink recently launched in the market that did the trick. Now that it is over and my ego gratified, I can, without fear, say you are not different from the many girls who have slept on this bed. Let’s call it quits.

P.S.
In case you didn’t vote the first time, go here and vote for this blog in the Action Category of the first Kenyan blogging contest.

The Kenyan Blogging Contest

This is the first contest this blog has entered; not that there have been many.

E-Gichomo is the organizer of the blogging contest, and the categories are as follows:

Art Award: Recognition and appreciation of poetry. Creativity, choice of words, originality and show of talent.

Beauty Award: Best layout, design, cool features, attractiveness and finest integration of themes and magnificence.

Action Award: Pursuit of ingenuity. Most interactive and frequent in content update.

Clearly, am in the action award, and take a minute of your time (or 30 seconds, click over here and vote for me.) I promise to share the prize, whatever it may be!!

The contest ends on 30th July, so make sure you vote
everyday (is it allowed to vote more than once? If not, please create multiple identities so you can vote many times!)

That being said, I promise you a juicy story on my blog next week, so be here to read. But only after you’ve voted.

Post World Cup Blues

I loved this poster

The World Cup tournament is a month long emotional roller coaster. Both for the football fans and the non-fans, because their regular programming of soaps was interrupted. Then maybe it wasn’t it, some TV channels just don’t know when to quit.

Anyway, after being thrice broken hearted by Ghana, Germany and Netherlands (and by the rest of the African teams), I have set my mind on the next world cup, which is in Brazil in 2014. You think that is far away? Not if I have to attend it, it’s not. I need to have made enough money to ensure am there live. I was chatting with someone on twitter and I put my ideas forward:

Idea one
It’s been done before, it’s called gold-digging. But if it’s the world cup trophy, I can consider it 😉 I’m talking about finding a rich man somewhere, age/nationality/race not an issue, who will finance my trip to Brazil. He should preferably not tag along, I intend to fully participate in those carnivals the Sambas have.

Idea two
Dealing. No, not gambling, but you know, dealing with drugs. This is sure one way to get rich and die quickly scheme. Hopefully, die after 2014. Now, any mafia guys reading this? My email is…you know my email. It’s on my blog somewhere.

Idea three
I get a ship headed for the outer seas…sneak inside with food and clothes all packed for three months journey to South America. Let’s hope am not thrown overboard but if in 2014 you hear of a beautiful dark-skinned girl found floating around in a Harambee Stars jersey (it’s what I’ll wear for the epic journey), you know who to suspect it may be.

Idea four
This was the tweep’s (guy I was chatting with on twitter) idea. He said we didn’t have to get killed to get to Brazil, even when I told him we have to take risks. It’s the World Cup we are talking about here.

He said he could arrange for a cow to predict the Netherlands win in the finals, then we could sell the cow for lots of money. Well, Netherlands lost so there goes our money.

Idea five

Run for parliament. This is one sure way to get paid a huge salary for doing nothing, and you only have to appear in parliament to vote for a motion to increase already the huge salary.

A Letter to my 13-year-old self

I was tagged by Chiira so here goes.

Dear thirteen year old Savvy,

I know you are in class 8 now, even though you look 10 and love reading novels instead of studying. I can see you love your sleep, don’t worry, that’s not going to change. I don’t want to tell you more than you should know, lest you start altering stuff and you know the butterfly effect and all…oh you don’t? Am sure you’ll google that right away. Google? Oh..it’s a search engine. What’s a search engine? *Sigh*. You’ll know soon enough.

Boarding school has been tough, huh? At least now you can borrow the deputy his mobile phone and stand on that anthill for better reception and call your parents. The food in that school is bad, but high school will be much better, I assure you. You’ll curve up sooner or later.

Do not hide during the P.E. lessons and games time, it’s for your health, ha ha. We both see the joke in that….exercise is just not in you. Enjoy reading the novels anyway because you’re still going to ace that KCPE exam, and go to that school that wears all red that you want join. However, you might want to go slow on those Sweet Valley Universities and Mills n Boon. Harlequins are also included in that category…yes, even the cowboy ones. Or oh, well, you can read them this year but keep off them in high school. They’ll make you dream of your first kiss, not knowing it will come in 5 years!

See Mr. Nani? The ex-high school student teaching you math whom you are crushing on, don’t worry, you won’t see him again, so quit fantasizing about the future. Treasure your friends now, because you’ll be out of touch for many years to come.

Life is going to be full of ups and downs, mostly ups. So just sit back, and enjoy being a teenager.

Love,
(Very) Early 20’s Savvy.

P.S. In the spirit of tagging, here goes Soulfool (she’s new to blogging but heralds great promise), Wamathai and Shiko Msa