My Dress My Choice

Matatu drivers are like pilots. They can crash land a vehicle. Now their touts have added a job title to the resume. Strippers! and i'm not talking La Barrels on Langata Rd.  Those dry drunks and dry drug abusers had plans the minute they saw that poor girl…not the least of which was to ‘discipline’ her. They probably touch themselves to sleep every cold night and say that as they chance to touch a woman. That girl may need chemically ingested therapy after that traumatic experience. I know I would. Rome or in this case Nairobi is clearly burning.

There are a thousand thoughts in a man that he doesn’t know about until he takes a pen to write. There are a thousand thoughts in my head right now about miniskirts. I’ll just write one. I like them! And that doesn’t even begin to cover it (see what I did there?;-)) What warm blooded male with a twig and berries doesn’t like miniskirts? Ask a Monk. I’m at a loss. In every conflict or dilemma or issue such as this one, people will claim to espouse some higher order values. For example, the way a lady decides to put on is a matter of her privacy (making the men who contribute to this discussion or show interest seem like some sort of voyeurs), culture, fashion, expression, identity etc. Everyone will feel a need to educate women as to what they may or may not wear. I’m not a women’s clothes aficionado but I know enough to know I like them short. For some ‘aesthetically challenged’ ladies could it be over compensatory behavior? If you can’t see me perhaps you should adjust your vision a little lower? Oh! Hello! There you are.

 A woman once told me that women dress for themselves and for other women. That may be true (or false) but it is men, I believe, who want it. As advertisers would say, ‘men want her. Women want to be her’. On Monday a group known as Kilimani moms plan to go to the streets in their miniskirts to protest. And I will not be surprised to find the same men who complain about short skirts ogling, fighting for space at the windows of their offices and standing on the street to look. I think men should join in this protest. Just keep your miniskirts at home fellas. On a serious note, Lucy asks in the movie, "we were given this earth a billion years ago. What have we done with it?" It cannot be that this is what we do

Of Rabbits and Kingdoms

To paraphrase Mad Men’s Lou Avery let me begin by asking, how is everybody today? Ready for your routine read? Just open your mouths and say “Aaaah”

Dr. Rabbit is a five foot six, amiable, not exactly a broth of a lass but pleasant. She looks like a little psychedelic brunette perched on those drawings you see in gift shops without the trippy colors. In black and white

 

Usually when I meet someone I have designs on I use a line on her with enough cheesiness to make a meal and I make it a point of doing the old red blood cell impression , circulating and transmitting onwards the oxygen of the news from cell to cell (at this rate I may need a hormonal performance exam. I’m such a female!). By the time this goes to post my entire phonebook will have known I like a girl.

“Dr. Rabbit, I thought staring into the dentist’s light. Dr. Rabbit, what was I thinking of? Why am I taking it so slow?” “Because you just met her”, I answered myself “What am I frightened of? Why haven’t I said anything?” “Probably the big needle in your mouth”, I answered again. Needles and any other medicaments for that matter give me the willies.

Okay let me put this bottle of ‘Pavitra Rishta ‘back in the fridge and start from the beginning. Give it a little background. I sat outside the dentist’s office yawning convincingly at the dentist’s assistant every time she walked in and out. There was no queue and I knew I’d be called in but those of you who know me (Hi, madam receptionist) understand that I’m not a very patient chap. So I walked to the wall where there was a caricature of a Dr. Rabbit and the doc’s minion fighting plaque which had attacked the dental kingdom.

Assistant: John?

*I walk in*

Doc: Hi, John

Me: Hi. You must be Dr. Rabbit

Doc: No! Do I look like a rabbit??

I felt my face flush like someone had opened a valve around my ankles. So much for cheesiness and the meals they make. I couldn’t tell whether she was insulted or she knew what I meant. She did put the poster up or obviously seen it.

I can’t tell whether it was the numbed sense in my mouth that heighted my sense of smell or that she leaned in very close to get a good view of my teeth but I could smell her skin. It wasn’t like a can of perfume crawled up her shirt and died (hi again madam receptionist). It was subtle and nice. Body odor. She was very patient and impossibly lovely.

I want to see her again. Ride my white horse (or a number 15 matatu) back there. Luckily I have more cavities to be fixed. I don’t know how lucky that is.

“And I’m not Dr. Rabbit”, she says as I leave her office. This is what I saw