March 01, 2008

Being the concerned big sister that I am, I woke up at 4.00am to make sure that my sister was ready to go. Suddenly, it hit me that that was way too early, even for the most competitive soul. So I went back to sleep.. but I couldn't. All I could think of was, 'What if I oversleep? What if I wake up at 9.00sm and it's too late for baby sis to audition? So I lay in bed and willed away the time. At 5,00 am, I woke her up. Half an hour later, we were out the door and on to the chilly sleepy street. I was planning on taking a matatu, but I thought that would delay us. So I paid a cab to KICC, where the auditions are being held. To my shock, really, we were the only ones!! I didn't get it. There is only one audition, in the whole country and no one is there just tow hours earlier?

We met some of the organizers who told us that we were way too early. Yeah. So we went for a walk, watching Nairobi wake up...and get samosas. On coming back, like 10 minutes later, there were 10 people or so at the gate. So the waiting game started. SEt tto start at 8 am, the organisers did not talk to us until some minutes to 9 am. Then they moved us from one gate to the next, and back to the previous gate. 30 minutes later, they asked the aspirants to get into groups of 4 or 5 people each. What did they thiknk would happen then? People would walk calmly and peacefully join hands? So a push ensued, causing them to abandon the plan. They opened the gates and let people in, in whatever groups they were in.

My laptop is low on power... have to continue this later

The Birth II

I get to the hospital after 2 hours of traffic and my friend wants to kill me. She is pacing up and down, sitting, standing, bending, looking like she wants to jump out of her body. Earlier on, she had sent me a text message saying that she is tired, she wants to leave the labour at the hospital and go home.

I rub her lower back and she has never be so thankful in her life. Minutes later, another contraction hits, and the phone rings. It's her live-in boyfriend. He is stuck in traffic but on his way. I don't hear the rest as my pal is screaming at me now. I force her to breath with me and by the time the next contraction hits, the nurse takes over.

It's now 8.0pmn, and the doctor tells me unless i want to spend the night on the bench, she is not close to giving birth. The hospital they chose is miles away from the main road. by the time i go to pick her boyfriend (because the matatu has abandoned him in the middle of nowhere), it is close to 9pm. I come back with him to the hospital, he has a very unsuccessful conversation with his girlfriend, then we leave.

On the way, we discuss baby names. I've know for nine months now that they want to name their son after a Manchester United Player. I have been insisting it's a girl and unless they call her 'Nani' - which by the way means 'who' in Swahili, they will have a hard time naming her. They are convinced it's a boy. An hour later, she calls me. She gave birth to a bouncing baby girl!!

'She is just staring at me', My pal tells me.

I'm yet to go see her and possibly come up with baby names. I love Man U, but i don't think I'm having my godchild named after some guy.


Which reminds me of a story i saw today on CNN. An expectant woman goes to the loo in a train in India. She gives birth - accidentally, i presume- and the baby falls on to the tracks. The mother fell unconscious, and two hours and two stations later, the relatives knocked at the toilet door. She told them the story and they stopped the train. The baby girl was found, still alive.

Below is the mother and baby:


I find this very hard to believe. How did the baby become separated from the mother?

Lost chances

I get my one in 4 year chance to propose to my man and he is conveniently hiding somewhere closer to the North Pole than to me. Ok, he is not hiding, he actually lives there. Apparently, where DVP comes from, were he to refuse my marriage proposal, he would be required to pay me 12 pairs of gloves, and i can only propose to him on 24th, as opposed to the English tradition of 29th Feb, which happens to be the medieval leap day.

Digging deeper, I found that in England, if a man refused the marriage hand, he was required to pay anything from a kiss to £1 to a silk gown. This was a law passed by a five year old queen. Now, the men claimed that that was too much pressure (don't know whether the pressure was - to be asked to marry or to have to pay £1 or a silk gown) , hence the restriction that women could only propose once every four years, to save the men. If i was making the laws then, my sweet response to them would have been...






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