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I'd ask you how you're doing but then again I don't really care. But I remember making a resolution to be nice this year so assume that I have an ingratiating smile and am warmly asking after your welfare. Mine? I am exhausted. Utterly and completely. I have too many things to do and too little time. How tired, you ask? I spent Saturday evening AND Saturday night fast asleep from all my labours! Imagine that!

MEMO TO MYSELF: Being nice to ungrateful, short sighted Kenyans is a waste of valuable time! I kid you not! I sacrifice my Friday afternoon, (a very busy one may I add!) to pay a visit to a fair maiden bringing gifts of gold, frankincense and ... ok, ok, cookies-- and the hag had the audacity to complain that they were not the kind she liked! I looked at that young lady and decided that the only thing that spreads faster than gossip is crass stupidity! P.P my dear I will no longer give you anything, not even the flu!

No doubt by now I have eliminated 70% of the populace. That's great. If you have any affiliation of any kind with organizations like Mungiki you're out! If you are associated with Bin Laden, Bin Lyin' or Bin Bribin' see yourself off the premises.

If you still qualify and are over 5 foot 6, are a Kenyan Citizen, are not married, do not have children (saving all of us from the horrors of little replicas of you) and posses a passport then you might just be the first Miss Malaika, which has plenty of money, an office in South Africa, clothes and all sorts of bells and whistles. The Miss Malaika franchise has been acquired by a fine establishment called the Model House, co-established by one Pinky Ghelani, who ought to know all about this kind of thing! She encouraged me to let all my pretty girl friends (that is friends who are girls) know and if I never wrote to you... ahem! Auditions begin on July 13 at the Model House, Westlands. You don't need experience, you don't need training. All you need is to show up! MORE DETAILS

The distinction between the gents' and the ladies' halls has blurred to an extent that seeing a toweled feller whistling merrily as me makes his way to the showers in Box at 5 in the morning is uncommon. (Is that not so Pato?) Equally seeing a maiden with hair in curlers, face smeared with avocado heading for the bathroom in the gents halls, toothbrush in hand is quite common. Fanusi, on the other hand, is a different kettle of fish altogether. As far as I know the only gentleman to be found past the gates is the watchman, and even he seems glued to the gates. A ninja might be able to scale the absurdly high walls but I doubt it. Even a monkey would have his work cut out from him. As far as I know there is but a single entrance and exit. And God, in his excellent sense of humour (as Sin so aptly put it) will always find ways and means to amuse himself. He will put the some of the most intriguing, most mysterious and most pretty maidens to live in this iron castle, where I must say their fathers sleep easier at night. I am led to believe that the curfew has a single digit. As if it were not strict enough, almost diagonally across Fanusi is the Nairobi Chapel. Why am I mentioning this, you ask? Well, I have been endeavoring for the better part of two years, if I am not mistaken, to convince one of the inhabitants that I am not deranged, not insane and have an IQ that has at least two digits. The fact that I am gainfully employed AND in navigation of a household of unruly small boys AND endeavoring to add all sorts of titles to my name AND coordinating about a dozen small endeavours leaves me precious little time to get about it, but when I do spare a moment I throw caution to the winds and pay Fanusi a visit with polished shoes, brushed teeth and Cologned & deodoranted frame and ironed clothes. Smelling and looking good does not move the watchman in the slightest. That of course is if you find that gent at the gate. Usually he is hiding behind the corner of the building watching grimly for any misguided attempt to effect an entry. You therefore have to whistle for the chap and believe you me he only comes when you get tired of whistling and disturbing households for miles around. He will then shuffle over with a sarcastic smile and await your query:

"I am looking for [*********]", you say with an ingratiating smile. That gentleman's sarcastic smile widens, then he proceeds to unceremoniously inform you 'Hayuko!' The unchristian words that are about to explode out of the mouth you have just rinsed out with soap are choked back and you smile at the gent. "Do you know her?" And you listen in stupefaction as he informs you no, he does not know her, but he knows for a fact that she is not in! Ten minutes later your fine mood is completely ruined and you stalk away a frustrated and bitter man.

Other times that gent informs you that indeed she is in and asks you to wait while he fetches her. The next thing you know is a portly matron appears at the gate demanding to know if you have a life and can you stop hanging around there like a love-struck schoolboy. You discover later that the watchman actually summoned her to the gate and threw in tidbits about you attempting to climb the gate. This little adventure kept me away for a good 3 months.

Telephoning is another matter altogether. Getting through is hard enough but getting the person you want is impossible. What usually occurs is this:
YOU: Hello? Good Evening! How are you today? May I please to [*********]?
OTHER: [*********]? Certainly! Just hold on.

And that's the last thing you hear.

Tsk tsk!

"I can quit smoking anytime! Why just last week I quit three times already!"

July 1: If there is no Holiday I shall take the day off anyway and indulge myself!
July 2: Project handover and laughter all the way to the bank.
July 2: Substantial revisions to the work!
July 4: Go and visit friends I've not set eyes on for a whole year! (They study overseas!)

I have a constitutional right to give My own shout-outs to whoever I please!

Pinky: Did as I promised! Do I get a bunch of bananas and a lollipop for my troubles?
Grace: Lovely to hear from you m'dear! Been too long. Far too long!
To one Nellyfan: My warmest greetings. Will be happy to show you around if you're ever in town!
Members Of Parliament: Each and Every one of you are HORSES viewed from the posterior! I do mean it from the bottom of my heart!
Allan: Stop lying to people that you are the son of a chief who has killed the odd lion or two!
Cheri G: Where on earth are you hiding?
Sue: Really living a soap opera, aren't you?
Laura: Am getting old and grey chilling for you and your correspondence.
Aida: Whichever hole you're hiding in you'd better show up quick smart!
Boy Gutu: About as useful as powdered water! Ushindwe wewe!
Pato: Rumours have it that despite your graduating some time back you are still a regular and familiar sight at Box!