Tug at that skirt, one more time

I love the olden days. I loved my mother’s lengthy skirts. It was never a struggle getting her aid, I mean, the hem of her skirt was close to my reach, I did not need to strain to get her attention. Life was smooth. By virtue of my age, it was clear I needed a lot of help, and I am glad I did not strain too much to get aid.

I loved that life

But today

Tug harder little one…

Once or twice while walking in the streets of Nairobi we have come across these little adorable monsters in town tugging at you, trying to catch your attention and sell you over priced chewing gum. I like the initiative, but they can be a bit annoying. I love my braids floor length long. One day one of them pulled at my braids to get my attention. I swear!!! Everyone who has crossed archives has met them, but I think we reach a point we get used to the demands we stop paying attention. They tug at our skirts and we continue without giving them acknowledgement because we know they will tug one more time. We will not give them the benefit of a response, and they will do nothing about it. We hold the upper hand after all.

Just like how politicians deal us.

Today, skirts are getting shorter by the day. Raised a little bit to entice, not high enough to let you see, but high enough to put a strain on you if you try to reach the hem. These little teasers!!! Do you feel the connection between those short skirts and politicians today? Because I do. They come with beautiful manifestos, too tempting to resist, but once they are in power they unleash their grotesque forms. Cries for reforms and justice always fall on deaf ears once they gain power. No matter how hard you tug to get their attention, it is like you literally only talk the skirt. The common man is constantly asking for better services, asking for justice, fairness during employment, sometimes coming up with innovative ideas that need a little bit of funding but all requests for a little sympathy for services they deserve fall on deaf ears.

You have to tug at that skirt

Tug it a little harder, and in case you reach the hem

They will still assume you are a little pest they need to pay no attention to

With how they do not respond to requests to be more accountable, it feels like a politician is that hot crush you have, and you make a mistake of exposing your emotions. Somehow, your freedom of speech gives them the freedom to blue tick your messages or leave your calls unanswered because they think you need them more than they need you. But a crush fades with time, doesn’t it?

So despite the lack of response, you  keep tugging at that skirt. Maybe, just maybe one day, they will feel the pressure and respond

It wont be today, but never quit tugging at that skirt.

Clearly the system is not fair to the common man. The system doesn’t allow the common man to enjoy rights because somehow the conduct displayed by our leadership makes it feel like it’s a privilege to get served right in public offices, or it’s a privilege for police to treat you with respect. The system is unfair because the same circle of incompetent personnel keep getting swapped from office to office, with no actual change. There is little chance for qualified individuals to bring actual change because these power seats are jealously guarded by people who cant deliver. The leaders of tomorrow have been reduced to beggars instead.

We will continue to suffer because ahead of us is a pretty skirt being blown by the wind. Our eyes are too captivated by the opening act presented by the provocative brown thighs, a journey in thighland and we are back to square one- we forget the pain we will go through if these people are put in office again. Despite how enticing the opening act is, the main event is simply a catastrophe meant to haunt us for the next five years

No matter how hard they ignore you, it does not mean you stop making your voice heard, it does not mean you stop asking for those demands to be made. The more you echo your concerns, the stronger your voice becomes. A big voice is so hard to ignore no matter how much someone wants to. The reason why resolves are met is because someone kept pushing and demanding to be heard. Just like those little monsters keep tugging at us in the streets, so will we keep tugging at public servants who can’t deliver their promises.

Do not stop tugging little one…

Keep tugging at that skirt

Little raggedy doll with that tear stained cheeks and mucus filled face,

Tug at that skirt one more time. Maybe, maybe next time, someone will turn around and give you a wink

Interviews are A Scam


I have a phobia for interviews.

Multiple job applications in the hopes of landing one. Somehow all of them always come up empty, no phone call, no rejection email, nothing. Someone tell me how we are meant to do these applications because I can’t seem to get it right.

The frustration.

An interview routine is pretty simple for a recent graduate like me. I hate online interviews, so given an option I always ask to meet face to face. I keep it professional on such days. Wake up early, shower and dress up nice. This is one of the rare times I visit my heels collection and pick a pair that I will put on at the elevator and remove as soon as I board my cab.

Courtesy- Louboutin

During the interview, I mingle with a few interviewees that want to talk and we give fake compliments or wishes on who is most likely to get the job. Seriously, deep down we all wish it is given to us, but it’s a room full of five perfect candidates, anyone could get it. Or so you think… On the announcement day, it’s the craziest of them all. The selected person was not even in the interview room. Haibo!!! The bigot was  merely setting up some charade  where  the son of the daughter of whoever the hell it is will get employed at the end of the day.

Btw, that is not cool. Do you know how much cologne and lotion goes to waste at this point.

In other news…

Aphenphosmphobia. A word I cannot even pronounce

Interviews, for me, are pretty much like relationships. Relationships, (well some do not even get to that point of being called a relationship), have a way of making you think like you got it all right, but in reality, you got played. While it looks like you got it right, reality is those applications went down the drain. Revelations will later show you- you were just a meal ticket for a day, or a photo whose face didn’t make it to the papers.

Look at it this way;

First interview always sets the record straight. It is a dream comes true moment. I guess it was probably in some cool cafe with low key boring music, you think you got it right. He has to be the one. His scrawny self makes you feel like you are on top of the world. If you are lucky, you land the job. Play around with the files for a while, get familiar with the script and somehow out of the blues, you are handed your first letter of termination.

Second time is a charm right? You scale things up a little bit. The first interview, gets you shortlisted, the second interview gets you picked for a role. You got too gassed up you didn’t realize everyone at the interview had a leakage and knew more than you did. You were just the temporary assist, while the permanent employee was on maternity leave or something like that. Where do these people disappear to for three months btw?

Like the first round, you are out the door.

By the time you get your third interview, you probably have things figured out. Don’t get your hopes up. But something is different this time, class attracts class. Or so you think. This time you bump into a potential and get an invite for the supposed interview. His promises are amazing, a trip to Diani or Vipingo perhaps over the holiday. Exotic names meant to blow your mind away. You are not entirely excited because you can do that for yourself, but you are touched by the fact that at least, well… at least. The funny thing is these interviews do not materialize. No sit down. No face to face, a lot of promises though. It is tiresome because it gets your hopes up and crushes them.

With the disappointments you get tired of the games and decide that maybe you are one of those beautiful but unlucky cases. So when the fourth interview comes, you are no longer the naïve girl who got excited when a man turned to get a second whiff of your perfume. While you think he is asking for your number, he may be asking about the brand so he could go surprise his girlfriend.

Things take a turn when you get invited for a religious interview. Brother speaks in tongues and can see through your past sins. But the short cuts the job requires you to make assures you both of you may not see heaven.

So long, farewell.

We have drafted proposals, defended our positions, included left out job descriptions that we think we can bring to the table and still nothing. No job.

In short, quarantine day 018 made me realize, there is no difference between philophobia and phobia for interviews. I am scared of interviews as much as relationships. So to all the interviews that failed to turn out right, you must have contributed to my aphenphosmphobia. Anyway, I am preparing for my currently on going interview, Pray for me fellas. He definitely is the one.