10 Lessons I learnt form the lone Bull…

A beautiful lone bull on Nairobi-Mombasa highway...

A beautiful lone bull on Nairobi-Mombasa highway…

I have been told many times that a lone elephant bull is the most dangerous of its species.

Its a chilly Saturday morning with the sun just about to rise in the horizon. We are driving on the Nairobi-Mombasa highway.

Its a somber mood really, nothing of the loud obnoxious jokes that would naturally be in order for my crowd.

There He is. All proud and majestic. Taking a morning leisure walk across the Tsavo. All alone. Without a care in the world.

The 40 ft. Trailer did not scare him, the more than 6 cars slowing down to just view him in all his glory did not deter him. He just walked. Forcing the trailer to come to a sudden stop, the occupants of the cars to shriek in  joy and wonder and admiration as they fumble with their phones trying to capture the best side of him. He did not even make a sign of acknowledging their presence.

Inside my small crummy car, we were so mesmerized. I assure you , we were a tiny speckle in comparison to that magnanimous work of nature. Not to be left behind, I too fumbled with my simple cheap piece of technology of a phone to capture the best side of that glorious beast . It did not matter what we did or what happened this big animal just did not care.

A lot of thoughts started racing in my mind and I kept thinking; where is this animal from? where is the rest of his herd? Is he lonely? Is he hurt? Is he sick? Is he aware of his surroundings? What in Gods beautiful world is he thinking about?

And I suddenly understood why they say the lone bull is presumably the most dangerous one in his species.

He just does not give a f***.

We generally like to be given a f***.

We like it when we are able to push the right buttons and get the desired reaction. Every possible pun intended.

Well with this bull, that wont work. Because nothing you do will threaten him and God Forbid you do succeed in threatening him you will wish the world to open up and a thousand ants to infest your pants  because that would be a better fate than what the bull has in store for you.

I am quiet not because I have nothing to say or that am ignorant of what has been said. I am quiet because I chose to be quiet.


I see it everyday. People are bothered by quiet and silence. People like reaction. The press, the church, the terrorists… everybody wants a reaction. You see when you have an exchange you expose your thought process for scrutinization and counteraction. Silence doesn’t give your friends or foes that luxury and that scares the living daylights out of them.

But Silence gets people uncomfortable. They don’t know whether you like them or not, whether you bought their bullshit or not. Then they are forced to draw out a voice. Sometimes by extending a white flag, but most times by throwing stones.

Like the bull, the silent party is unfazed by the stones thrown or the 40 ft. trailers that come speeding their way, or by bystanders taking in their majestic presence, because they are focused on the path they have taken. That path unfortunately has no allowance for bull shit. The lone bull has bullshit radar and can smell bullshit from a mile away.

That Saturday morning I made a resolve to be like that Lone Bull. Its simple really;

  1. Some time solitude is all you need to get your focus in.
  2. Walk away from all the drama
  3. Maintain silence because its said that it is in silence that we find ourselves.
  4. Call it as it is. When its BS and you know its BS, call it BS and walk away.
  5. You give credit to the labels put on you by reacting to them. Don’t react. People say bad things about you because you threaten them. Let them swim or better still drown in their own imaginations.
  6. Attitude is everything
  7. That Lone Bull can never go to the market carrying supplies for you. People will ride your back if its bent. Don’t permit people to push you around.
  8. Focus is key.
  9. In life journey there will be the threats(40 ft. trucks) and there will be the admirers(the people taking photos) Ignore the former and give the latter a darn good side for their blog.
  10. When Shit hits the fan, take a good swerve at the people coming at you and hit them hard. Do not relent until you know you have beaten the shit right out of them. Literally. Or just figuratively. Whatever rocks your boat. Bottomline get them good.
Arm yourself with truth, courage and facts.

Arm yourself with truth, courage and facts.

I may not yet be the lone bull, but am getting there.

If we had 1 lone bull in every group of 10 people, the world would be a better place to live in. For Sure. I would know.




This thing about Complexes

I love writing. I don’t know how but I write. I kid myself that I write when inspired.
I get inspired by a whole load of things.
Today am inspired by pity… And that I find strange.

I find it sad, really sad,  when we qualify our lives by what our friends think of us or by what our friends think we have.
Its amazing how much those things move me personally.
I realized recently that what matters to me as should to you is not how much a person has but how much it is important to them.
Ideally people should be loved for who they are. Not what they have.

That’s the sad thing.
When people feel that they deserve your loyalty or friendship only because they have abit more to spend its just, pitiful.

Friendship is a beautiful thing and I am lucky to have a handful of friends. I am lucky to have people I can rely on. People who challenge me. People who love me for me.

That’s what inspired me today.
I realised that the world is broken.
Her people are broken. They have an emptiness in them that they know not how to fill.
Her people know not what to do with what they have.
Her people have replaced the fundamental of life with silliness and non issues.
Her people have forgotten when to laugh and when to look for allegiance.
Her people know not that life, life is NEVER that serious.

So I got inspired to write about this. About nothing really. Just to write.

In the meantime I hope in Kenya, grass will grow.

Lipstick Notes

Swooosh… That, That is the sound of a curse.

There are no such things as curses; only people and their decisions ~ Yvonne Wood

Most women do not choose to be women. at least not the ones that will relate to this post below.

Being a woman is work.

I see it everyday, women struggle to be women.

If they are not socially too fat, too loud, too thin, too career oriented, too marshy, too emotional, too quick to judge, too unfriendly, too hot, too short then they are just too female. I mean there is no getting it right when you are woman.

Society does not cut us any slack, the government doesn’t cut us any slack even our own family and friends don’t cut us any slack.

Today however I am not here to discuss the woman and her position in the society. No I am here to rant about our curse.

To the woman he said, I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; in sorrow you shall bring forth children; and your desire shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you. ~ Genesis 3:16

Anyways Eve (the First woman according to my bible) was so hungry that she ate a fruit and earned us a curse. At least she got cursed on a full stomach.. no? not a good joke… anyways.

While men were cursed to toil the earth to provide for their families, I see more women actually toiling to provide for their families how ironic.

Women on the other hand were told they shall 1. Have a Painful Childbirth 2. Their desire will be for their man 3. Man shall rule over them. I will not even touch 2 and 3… I cannot, not today…

And that is the genesis of my rant today… (every pun intended).

Childbirth is painful do not get me wrong, your insides are on fire while something akin to the size of a truck pushes through a passage that until a few minutes ago could only handle a few centimeters in diameter of a fun stick. Trust me NOTHING can explain that pain, I will not attempt to do so.

Be that as it may, it’s a one time thing and the next time you actually go through the same pain is in 9 months depending on how seriously you take the “Go ye forth and fill the earth” command.

However there is the small issue of blood thing(again pun intended) that women experience every month and for some even every 15 days. For me therein lies the curse.

Women have always been the strong ones of the world. The men are always seeking from women a little pillow to put their heads down on. They are always longing for the mother who held them as infants.~ Coco Chanel

Every month sometimes without warning you start by having cramps, all kinds of cramps, stomach, back and/or even private part cramps randomly; while in church, while with your date, while at a board meeting, I dont know.. go on, feel free to get creative with the different places.

One or two hundred thousand women are spared the cramps. Then there is also the possibility of mood swings, hormonal anger pangs (hope you see what I did there) maybe bouts of creativity (who knows with these bloody periods what happens to the body and the brain? will leave that to scientists)…

OK so you are lucky to be spared the above two very annoying situations (if I may be allowed to call them that) then there is actual blood flow. You sneeze and you almost feel like covering the bl***y v*****  instead of the mouth, You laugh and swooosh there is that feeling and you may sometimes stop mid way, you cough and wish you did not. It’s a disgusting feeling, trust me. If you could for that period ( in essence then for up-to two weeks for some women, they would rather not laugh, cough or sneeze… choices hunh?)

Then the bathroom breaks, every so many minutes or hours depending on your flow you gotta go to the bathroom and check, clean up and change. Almost instinctively. because there is no indicator or alarm for this that came with being a woman. In fact I dare say that the whole issue (again note what I did there) is very uncomfortable such that you do not need an indicator or an alarm to go check or change. Thank you very much.

So I have been asking myself, was the painful child-birth the real curse? Or was Painful Childbirth a collective outlook of the process of bringing a child to the world. I may be over thinking things here a little.

Truth is, however, monthly issue of blood, monthly period etc should be way up there right after Man shall rule over you. Because the way I see it, the curses were arranged in the order of the most painful one time thing to the most annoying, painful, regular thing. Hope y’all are getting my drift.

I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much. ~ Mother Teresa

So yes we do deserve a Global Women Day, A day dedicated to being born female. When all the women are not expected to go to work, they get free access to all the Spas around the world, they get the men to cook for them and wait on them and the children to thank us for bearing them with gifts and poems. They deserve one day that everything comes to them easy. A day that is also a Friday or Monday.

One day is enough.

One day per month is enough surely, right?  Right!

Yours Sincerely,

Lipstick Notes

Matters Friendship…

I have been lucky to grow a little older over the last few years.

I have been tremendously lucky to learn a few lesson in the last few years.

Recently I stumbled on a realization that is pure genius.

Its not what your friends can do for you, sometimes its what you are willing to do for them. Sincerely and genuinely. ~ Janet D.

But Friendship is not just about giving and receiving. its also about relating. I have a whole truckload of friends I assure you. But I can tell you without a single doubt that I have come to know what each of them can do for me when needed.

I have rich friends but I would sooner die of hunger than ask them for a dime, I have middle class friends that I know would move mountains to give me anything I need and I have not so rich friends who would sleep hungry so I can eat. And I love them all the same.

I needed something done for me recently and for the love of the Messiah, I scanned through a list of possibly 25 friends and only came up with three who could accomplish the task. And no that does not mean the other 22 friends are bad or that i love them less, no, far from it. It just means that their time will come.

So Matters friends are delicate, you need to know their boundaries, their capabilities and their weaknesses so you know how you fit into each of their lives. And those who you cannot fit your life’s purpose into theirs you need to probably rethink their friendship.

As always,

Lipstick Notes

I know where she lives…

The only vice that cannot be forgiven is hypocrisy. The repentance of a hypocrite is itself hypocrisy. ~William Hazlitt

I have met Ms. Hypocrisy.

I met her and I know exactly where she lives.

In the confines of smiles, laughter, jokes and well wishes.

I have seen people act like they wish you well, they say it too, the moment you turn your back the smile transforms into an ugly scrowl and the kind words change into curses and bad wishes.

Hypocrisy is the Homage vice pays to virtue ~Francois De La Rochefoucauld

I have been among those that love and entertain Ms. Hypocrisy, amongst my family and even  amongst my friends and its interesting how and to what lengths they go.

Let me tell you something you probably never heard before, hypocrisy is a wound on a diabetic leg, it grows and attracts as much rot to it as possible, it grows and when its of good age, it courts hatred and before you know it children are born, children that mutate to the nature of their parents and everything goes awry.

The other day I learnt that hypocrisy chooses and chooses well. It eats at you and gnaws on the sides of your conscience knocking to be let in. 

Once she is comfortable within your conscience then you will know no difference between right and wrong. 

You should know her. 

Next time you meet her be sure.

One day I may just decide to share real life stories… Stories of little girls mistreated by their relatives through the nannies, stories of mothers looking for daughters perhaps mother in laws to spread rot… stories that abound in leaps and bounds

You have peace, the old woman said, once you make it with yourself ~ Mitch Albom, The Five People You meet in Heaven



100 stories to go…

If some people are so hungry for a feeling of importance that they actually go insane to get it, imagine what miracle you and I can achieve by giving people honest appreciation this side of insanity.
~ Dale Carnegie


All you can hear is laughter.

Male and Female laughter, high and low pitched, shrieky, deep… all kinds of laughter that made for a beautiful sound to my ears.

Seated around a table, actually four tables that have been joined together to better accommodate the large crowd, a group of young professionals shared jokes, stories and lots of laughter.

I walked in late, the ambience was awesome and I stood at a distance and the one thing I thought, I will miss this people.


Every successful individual knows that his or her achievement depends on a community of persons working together. ~ Paul Ryan


They dedicated their after work time to appreciate me. (and a couple of my colleagues who are also moving on… but this is my story)

I wouldn’t be the person I am today in my career without these beautiful, mosaic crowd of my peers and seniors.

They have molded me by teaching, training, working with and supporting me all the years and here they were selflessly taking time off their rest hours to gather round and appreciate me.

The first eight years in my professional life and here I was saying goodbye to it.

Mixed emotions… I was happy I was moving but sad that this is all I knew.

They been my family for the better part of the last eight years, and one thing is for sure, each of them represented a print in my memories.

Some of my very special and lasting friendships were born here…


The making of friends who are real friends, is the best token we have of a man’s success in life.
~Edward E. Hale


Anyway as a gift I received a book, Chicken Soup for The Soul; On Being a Parent. 101 Stories. (I am a parent) – They got me a gift!! Aren’t these people awesome?

I managed to read the foreword and the first story; I have 100 stories to left to read.

And it dawned on me; This was just story number one, 100 more to go…

I have just but done one story in my career. Just like any foundation, it took time to be complete Eight years of hard work, great teams, awesome friendships, great customers , ridiculous queries and  of course ridiculous demands… but Eight years nonetheless. Eight years of learning, of being mentored and of being molded. Eight years of small and big triumphs, of satisfaction and of success. Eight years of growth in my personal, physical and career life. EIGHT YEARS.

My Story Number one is Eight years long… A milestone.

On to my Story Number 2 through to Number 101.


Continuity gives us roots; change gives us branches letting us stretch and grow and reach new heights.
~ Pauline R Kezer

This is to the next 100 stories…



The Monster Under My Bed…

…Or Lurking in the closet.

I was never scared of this monster. Not even once was I afraid to look under the bed at night or check the closet in the dark. It could have been because I never thought it existed.

As a grown woman, I now know monsters really do exist and they are scary. Damn Straight Scary.

Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can’t ride you unless your back is bent. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

One such monster is one of change… Suddenly what you are used to or what you have known for a long time will have to be replaced or to be moulded into something different. Never mind that it could be positive or for the better ( as it is often said in hindsight) truth is, it is certainly unsettling not to know.

I am that woman today. Clouded by a myriad of uncertainities. The only constant thing around me is Change.

Internally I have grown some these last few months, I feel like a caterpilla. In the process of change. Which may be a good thing. Or Not. My own feelings are revolting against me; what I used to feel, I dont. Not any more.

But change comes from within. Once the need for change is registered in one’s brain, the whole universe agitates for that change. Surprisingly though, we are never prepared for what happens next.

I realise the prospect of change is not scary. The change itself is. The fact that the end result of change is displacement and sometimes more closer home the end result is, Indifference.

I am aware that I may be about to face my monster. Only thing is my monster doesn’t confine itself under kids beds or in their closets. This particular one is in full glare of the public. Lurking around me and daring me to run. Whispering my name and reminding me of the situation every single moment.

Lurking. Whispering. Always around us.

Waiting for the moment. The deciding Moment. The moment of acceptance.

It’s just waiting for the molt.

 Then you have to face the monster.

Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.~ Confuscious





Disdain … look up the word

Its unbelievable how thin the line is.



With Love

The Green Shoes

This says it all…


Seamlessly Small

It started with the green shoes. They were covered in a sort of supple material, possibly velvet or velour. I have always detested that word, velour. It sounds sour and carries an air of pretention.

It started with the green shoes. They were pointed with four inch stiletto heels. A bit excessive if you ask me. We were at a house party for Christ’s sake.

It started with the green shoes. All she did was blab incessantly about them: where she bought them, how much they cost, it was a never ending volume of information on the hideous commodity.

It started with the green shoes. She was far too heavy to be wearing stilettos to begin with, her fat legs, twirling at the ankles, resembling sausages stuffed into two small casings. Yet, on top of that plump thigh, your hand rested. Your attraction to her always baffled me. I…

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Torture might beget Resilience…

“The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.” 
 Robert Jordan, The Fires of Heaven

Ah Mothers!!

Growing up I used to believe my mums dream job must have ben to supervise some torture chambers in some Asian countries.

When you played outside she would shout… “Keep running around but be very sure that should you fall and hurt yourself, I will hit you so hard you will not believe it.”

And she lived that statement.

“Life doesn’t get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient.” 
~ Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

One time I went out of the house barefoot. As luck would have it, I stepped on a nail. As many babies do, I went back into the house screaming as if I had been stabbed. The sight of my blood made me even scream some more. In fact I was 100% sure I would bleed to death.

When I got home, my mum took one look at the trail of blood I was leaving on her freshly cleaned cement floor and asked, “Where are your sandals?”.

Before I could answer I was pinched a sweet one and followed by a spank, Oh dear I was beaten a good one.

She then treated my foot with HOT oil. Generally some long and excruciating medical practices that worked very well. In hindsight.

Anyways every time she would insist on pressing it with some hot water, burn it with some oil etc. it reached a point I became numb.

So I wouldn’t feel the heat of the water or the pain from the foot.

Resilience at its best.

Sometimes to heal faster than scheduled you need to feel the pain more than often to become numb.

And numb you shall become. It helps.

Expose yourself to the pain points as much as possible, every time you relive that memory or see that person or know more about the situation, every single time, a little bit of the pain dies. And you become numb. Once numb, the healing starts and the progress is accelerated. For some unknown reason that I will not purport to know.

“Strong people alone know how to organize their suffering so as to bear only the most necessary pain.” 
 Emil Dorian, Quality of Witness: A Romanian Diary, 1937-1944


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