Time to Say Goodbye

Right 2016 has gone, vanished, it's history - everyone can now come out of their various hiding holes and breathe again! It's time to make those resolutions that we never stick to, join that gym that we never go to and in my case get my UK driving license that I've never gotten round to getting (I know - bit behind). So it's finally 2017! I saw in the new year cramped on a tiny balcony in East London, attempting to huddle for warmth with my mates (if anyone has seen March of the Penguins - imagine that but with people), watching the sky explode with fireworks as everyone happily popped champagne and said goodbye to a horrible year.

Now I wouldn't say that 2016 has been the worst year in history (1916 or 1945 for example, or the year Kanye West became famous...), but let's be honest, it hasn't been great. Personally, I was left devastated by Brexit, appalled by the events in Syria, angry at Trump and I will never truly be able to get over the sudden passing of Alan Rickman (as I write this I can't help but murmur 'alllwaaaays' to myself in what I feel is a worthy imitation).

Global events aside, however, 2016 wasn't a bad year for me. Actually it was really great. I completely changed careers having quit my job a year before to go travelling, I explored four new countries, left behind a toxic relationship, started dating again, unlocked a couple more of my passions and quite frankly grew up. Most importantly, I stopped second guessing myself, stopped thinking that I'm not good enough for someone and stopped compromising parts of my life for someone else's happiness. At the beginning of 2016, I gave myself an order -  that I was going to be a bit more selfish and less of a people pleaser this year, and I followed through. It was great - I highly recommend it.

It wasn't all good though, the one thing that 2016 did teach me is that sometimes things have an expiry date and that nothing really lasts forever, however much you may want it to. Sometimes you have to walk away and not look back. And so it is with this blog. I've enjoyed writing and editing this blog for the past four years but looking back on all the things I've written about from Kenyan life to dating in London, I can say with confidence that I'm no longer the same person I was. I've outgrown this lovely little blog and in the spirit of the New Year I'm moving on and leaving it behind.

It's not all doom and gloom though, as I think I would go mad if I stopped writing. So I have started a new blog, one which is a better reflection of myself. My new blog, A Shade More Sensible, (please stop rolling your eyes and/or laughing) will be up and running soon, and if you wish to keep up with my ramblings you can visit it here: www.ashademoresensible.com where I will happily be writing away with a laptop in one hand and a cappuccino in the other.

Happy New Year everyone!

So if you're from Africa, why are you white?

So those of who know me will know first hand that I constantly get annoyed when people ask me this question (be it as a joke or out of ignorance) but lets face it, if you come from Africa and look like me, chances are someone will ask you this question. About five minutes ago I passed my old school on the train down to Cornwall. It obviously hasn't changed and just the sight of it made me raise my eyes and give a knowing smile. I am sure the woman sitting next to me thought I must have been getting all nostalgic and sentimental as she unnecessarily put her hand on me knee and said in one of the thickest Somerset accents I have heard "sometimes it's just better to let go love" (although in hindsight she may have been referring to the fact that I had just finished the remains of my Lindt Easter bunny)

Anyway back to the reason for this blog- school, or to be more specific boarding school in the middle of nowhere -clearly the perfect place to send a child who wants to become a bit more independent, at least that's how my parents sold it to me! 

Me: I want to be independent 

Dad: I'll send you to England 

Me: cool 

Dad: sorted 

So as a social experiment lets take subject A - (me) a 16 year old Kenyan girl currently at an American school in Nairobi where uniform was not a thing, and team building involved the aptly named game 'capture the chicken' (to clarify we were never allowed to use real chickens, not in school anyway) then pop her in a school in the middle of Somerset where suits had to be worn at all times, people walked about in robes, words that didn't actually mean anything were used and the headmaster constantly referred to her as 'our South African student' and watch what happens.  Quite a lot as it turned out. 

Bearing in mind that I was still adjusting to the fact that I could walk around the streets by myself (as I am sure you know, the highstreet of Taunton is known for it's incredibly dangerous features -you can never be to wary of the little old women driving around in buggies having just done their weekly shop, quite terrifying) I am afraid I just didn't fit into the carbon copy of an I English school girl - I didn't spend hours on my hair trying to make it look as messy as possible, I had no interest in seeing just how high I could wear my skirt to chapel and I didn't cry when I wasn't selected to be a prefect (which is probably a good thing seeing as I would not have ever worn the robe, it takes one look at my graduation photos to realise why this is -I look like a complete twat).

Instead I did what I always do - pushed the boundaries and embraced being the weird one. The whole experience was weird to me, we had a curfew (do English people use that word??) for starters, a controlled amount of alcohol at the parties (this was probably a good thing, though it never worked. I have one friend who got suspended for drinking and then made a prefect in the same meeting which clearly says great things for the way the school enforced rules, though she was probably the best prefect there and I am not just saying that because she constantly let me skip the lunch queues) but the strangest tradition that I couldn't and still can't get my head around is the fact that the biggest competitive event was house singing!! What?? I had no idea what to expect with this one but it was quite an extravaganza to say the least. Houses had different chants (and no I have tried to remember them but that has been In vain). Although our house won so shouldn't complain too much. One thing I will never forget is the fact that I managed to convince some friends that I owned a Ferrari and drove it alongside the elephants back home - brilliant bit of banter which still gets brought up now and then. But hey you have to take what life gives you right? I soon got given the nicknames 'Kenya' and 'Shawza' which I'm still called on a constant basis and once people stopped trying to make me the perfect school girl I actually quite enjoyed my time there, though not to the extent at which I will be going back there anytime in the near future. 

Coming from Kenya it was an experience to say the least, I am sure I felt a similar feeling to what Harry must have felt when entering Hogwarts for the frist time. That said I am not sure anything can beat an school full of international students, so although boarding school England opened up loads of doors and was a stepping stone to me doing what I am doing now and knowing some of the most amazing I people I definitely wouldn't do it again, the closest I will be to that school isthat fleeting view you get when on the train down to the south west.

Hey Guys

“Spent the morning tackling Nairobi rush hour, only to find out that my car screams at me in Japanese if I get within an inch of another object - so every three seconds, oh yeah and a policeman made me and a few other cars reverse round a roundabout so he could create a new lane! Classic!”

That was my Facebook status a few weeks ago, and it’s pretty safe to say that that’s a normal day in East African rush hour. Traffic lights mean nothing and right of way is determined by how large your vehicle is. Welcome to my world. Born and brought up in Kenya with a family madder than monkeys on meth, my outlook on life according to my UK friends is slightly different to the “norm”.  I think sailing in a hippo infested lake is great fun and have no time for people who always follow the rules and never try new things. My car is a piece of metal which would fail an MOT on sight and regardless of occasion you would be hard pressed to find me without my bracelets, rings and flipflops.

I wasn’t sure about blogging until I graduated, became unemployed, moved back to Kenya and realised I had absolutely no idea what to do with myself.  A friend of mine said to me a while ago that some of my stories were so ridiculous that I had to share them, so here we go.

I’m going to write about everything that has happened to me, from blatant everyday sexism to living in a country where logic is non-existent and the idea of health and safety is laughable.

Hope you enjoy it.