How to 'look intelligent' by knowing your Wine.

After accidentally stumbling on the fact that wearing glasses, knowing a foreign language, talking politics, loving jazz, repeating jokes, reading the classics, pretending to be a connoisseur, adopting nerdy hobbies and knowing your wine makes you look intelligent, I made a mid-year resolution to learn more about wine and join what Michael McIntyre calls a “Bullshit Production.”

The “Bullshit production” is all the pretence involved in wining and dining and it starts when a waiter/ess gives you  the wine list a.k.a Book of gibberish. (Of-course as much as we don't like admitting it, nobody knows much about wine; to most people its either red, white, less expensive or bloody expensive.)
So after choosing the wine, the waiter/ress comes back with a bottle of wine and asks the most important looking person on the table “would you like to taste?”

My husband normally says “Naaaaaaah, just pour it.” But I know someone who
sniffs the wine then swirls it around the glass, looks at it, takes a sip, gurgles it around their mouth and then pauses for a few seconds before saying “Yes.”

I want to be that very important looking person on the table..... So I got a book called ‘Wine for Dummies’, and it is doing the trick for me.

How to Pronounce your Wine.

For starters, correctly pronouncing wine names is one way to avoid irritating a wine snob; I normally point at what I can't pronounce, but what I know is you don't say "cham-pag-ne" or "ri-o-ja". So here is some cheat-sheet content from my book that might help in the fakery (you can thank me later.)

Auslese	ouse-lay-seh
Beaujolais	boh-jhoe-lay
Bourgogne	boor-guh-nyuh
Brut	brute
Cabernet Sauvignon	cab-er-nay saw-vee-nyon
Chablis	shah-blee
Chardonnay	shar-dohn-nay
Châteauneuf-du-Pape	shah-toe-nuf-doo-pahp
Côte-Rotie	coat-roe-tee
Gewürztraminer	geh-vairtz-trah-mee-ner
Haut-Brion	oh-bree-ohn
Hermitage	er-mee-tahj
Loire	l'wahr
Mâcon	mah-cawn
Merlot	mer-loh
Meursault	muhr-so
Moët	moh-ett
Montepulciano d'Abruzzo	mon-tae-pul-chee-ah-noh dah-brute-zoh
Montrachet	mon-rah-shay
Mosel-Saar-Ruwer	moh-zel-zar-roo-ver
Muscadet	moos-cah-day
Pauillac	poy-yac
Perrier-Jouët	per-ree-yay-joo-ett
Pinot Grigio	pee-noh gree-joe
Pinot Noir	pee-noh nwahr
Pouilly-Fuissé	pwee-fwee-say
Riesling	reese-ling
Rioja	ree-oh-hah
Sancerre	sahn-air
Spätlese	shpate-lay-seh
Viognier	vee-oh-nyay
Vosne-Romanée	vone-roh-mah-nay
Willamette Valley	wil-lam-et

How to Describe your Wine.

When describing wine, specific language should be used for to tell you about its characteristics. Knowing these words will help you understand the wine they're describing (and will also make other think that you really know your ‘shit’)
Instead of saying "It goes down well." like me, here are some descriptions that you could use.

·                          Aroma or bouquet: The smell of a wine — bouquet applies particularly to the aroma of older wines

·                          Body: The apparent weight of a wine in your mouth (light, medium, or full)

·                          Crisp: A wine with refreshing acidity

·                          Dry: Not sweet

·                          Finish: The impression a wine leaves as you swallow it

·                          Flavor intensity: How strong or weak a wine's flavours are

·                          Fruity: A wine whose aromas and flavours suggest fruit; doesn't imply sweetness

·                          Oaky: A wine that has oak flavours (smoky, toasty)

·                          Soft: A wine that has a smooth rather than crisp mouthfeel

·                          Tannic: A red wine that is firm and leaves the mouth feeling dry

Easy Wine Identifier

We know that it's either red or white, but most wines you find in shops and restaurants are named in two basic ways: for the variety of the grape or for the place the grapes are grown. This instant guide decodes common wine names and tells you the wine's colour.

Wine Name	Grape or Place	Wine Colour
Barbera	Grape	Red
Bardolino	Place/Italy	Red
Barolo	Place/Italy	Red
Beaujolais	Place/France	Red
Bordeaux	Place/France	Red or white
Burgundy (Bourgogne)	Place/France	Red or white
Cabernet Sauvignon	Grape	Red
Chablis	Place/France	White
Champagne	Place/France	White or rosé
Chardonnay	Grape	White
Chianti	Place/Italy	Red
Côtes du Rhône	Place/France	Red or white
Dolcetto	Grape	Red
Merlot	Grape	Red
Mosel	Place/Germany	White
Pinot Grigio/Pinot Gris	Grape	White
Pinot Noir	Grape	Red
Port (Porto)	Place/Portugal	Red (fortified)
Pouilly-Fuissé	Place/France	White
Rhine (Rheingau, Rheinhessen)	Place/Germany	White
Riesling	Grape	White
Rioja	Place/Spain	Red or white
Sancerre	Place/France	White
Sauternes	Place/France	White (dessert)
Sauvignon Blanc	Grape	White
Sherry	Place/Spain	White (fortified)
Soave	Place/Italy	White
Syrah/Shiraz	Grape	Red
Valpolicella	Place/Italy	Red
Viognier	Grape	White
Zinfandel	Grape	Red or pink

How to Buy Wine with Confidence

Don't get frazzled when you're shopping for wine. Browsing and buying wine should be a fun, positive experience. Remember these helpful hints when you hit the wine shop:

·                          No one in the world knows everything about wine.

·                          Smart people aren't afraid to ask "dumb" questions.

·                          The purpose of wine is to be enjoyed.

·                          Expensive doesn't necessarily mean I'll enjoy it more.

·                          I am my own best judge of wine quality.

·                          Most wines are good wines.

·                          Experimentation is fun.

·                          Advice is free for the asking.

·                          Every bottle of wine is a live performance.

·                          I'll never know . . . until I try it!

____________________________________________________________________

Okay, so that’s one thing off my list.

I love jazz and sometimes wear glasses, so I now need to catch up on some classics, politics, repetitive jokes and buy a ‘Star Wars for Dummies’ book. I’ll let you know what happens. 

To be..... or not to be.

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colours. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” 

Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky.

After avoiding it for two months, I just spent over six hours today ironing and sorting out the biggest pile of clothes I have ever seen. The reason I had to finally had to sort it out is the new job coming up this Monday; I’ve never been this terrified in my life.

It’s like the first day of school..... Trying to get everything ready and wondering if your classmates will be total wankers or if the teachers will be total arse whipping dictators.

I’ve spent the last few weeks anxious and jelly-bellied. As the days have whooshed by my farting has increased tremmmmmmmmmmmmendously and it is solely due to the new job. That’s how scared I am.

I’d hate saying that I am an intrepid person, because I am not. I am scared of change and being in unfamiliar territory. I don’t like chasing waterfalls and would rather stick to my glass of water to be honest..... So I find everything that has been happening rather overwhelming in so many ways.

The new job is my biggest fear at the moment, because as important as it is to me, I don’t know how I’ll settle into the place. Could it be the fact that I will be working for a big financial giant and am afraid of under-performing hence getting fired hence not being able to save up enough money for my new mortgage? 

I could say that it’s like being thrown in the deep end, but I can handle deep ends.....this is in a league of its own.

(And to make matter worse, a friend of mine recently told me that black people need to work ten times harder than white people in order to stand out..... chuckle. Now I get it.)

I learnt a lot during my last job, and in some way it brought one point to my attention; familiarity breeds contempt.

I was a very happy and open book that didn’t mind being read; but with time, people got so used to my happiness and any negative phase I was going through was a phenomenon in the office. They probably thought I was bluffing and gave me the kind of reaction given to that boy who cried wolf.

So how will I approach my new workplace? Everybody is telling me “Tinda, just be yourself.”..... Not this time round, I think to myself.

I am intending on working harder, being more serious, and…… a bit more private. Try my best to hold my cards close to my chest and not to put much about my life out there.

I am afraid that people will ask me the kind of stupid and straightforward questions I'd ask a stranger I just met.

“Are you married?”

“And..... are you allergic to rings?”

“Where is he from and where did you guys meet?”

My friend Lillian says “Only you can ask that Tinda, nobody else can. They really don’t care.”

I would disagree with her, and if two weeks go by without someone asking me such kind of questions, I’ll then know that I am a totally abnormal and utterly rude human being.

And after a lot of thinking and unthinking, I come to the conclusion that not being myself means that I’ll just be like one of THEM, so why bother? I’ll just deal with the inevitable and be what everyone is telling me to be..... ME.

Underneath it all.

“The problem is, we don’t want to comprehend another’s capacity for evil. Our mind naturally twists away from the unpalatable truth. This is possibly why many early warning signs of abuse are interpreted in a romantic, rosy way by society: the adorable idea of the man who loves “his woman” so much he can’t bear to be without her for a second. He’s jealous, possessive, passionate(euphemism of the day) only because he cares.”

 Nigella.....Just like a Swan on water,  calm and serene on the surface, but paddling like crazy underneath.

Looking at her from the comforts of my couch, I would have sworn that the very flirtatious “Domestic Goddess” a.k.a Nigella Lawson had a picture-perfect life.

She maintained that her lifestyle was "normal" and although the droolable kitchen on her TV show is not her own, the children running in and out of the room to scoff down her freshly made Christmas bonbons and mini pavlovas baked by their picture-perfect mother were definitely hers.

I enviously pictured her getting a foot rub from her husband every night, as a token of appreciation for bringing such wonderfulness into his life.

Until I saw a photo of him clenching his hands around her neck and her eyes full of tears and fear..... and just like that, she has gone from domestic goddess to the face of domestic violence.

He later claimed that the photos of him with his hands around his wife's throat merely caught them in the middle of a “playful tiff”.

Of course, we are all stunned that this can happen to our domestic goddess. But what makes us assume that successful and confident women don’t go through domestic abuse?

According to some recent articles, many people think that domestic violence is "the grubby problem of the inarticulate and poorly educated, who can't eloquently express their frustration, who are not self-aware or emotionally intelligent enough to thrash out their differences via a civilized heart-to-heart, rather than simply with a thrashing". And as ignorant as that statement seems, it isn’t as farfetched as I’d expect it to be.

There are people who think that domestic violence is confined in high-rise council buildings or third world countries. Wrong.

So what would our reaction be if one day Nigella’s husband walked into Nigella’s knife several times? Would we believe it if she said that it was in ‘self-defense’ and revealed that her husband was a violent person?

I know a few people who are or have been victims of domestic violence; in-fact, a few days ago someone close to me revealed that she attempted stabbing her ex-husband because he was violent towards her; it broke my heart and I was very disappointed to know that his behavior almost drove her to do the unthinkable. She is one of the lucky few who have been able to walk away from a relationship that could have ended on a very bad or bloody note, but there are many men and women who unfortunately decide to stay on and suffer the consequences in the name of "Love".

To sum it up, I will use a paragraph from the Telegraph.

----So class or status is irrelevant, but we persist in our naivety. It’s a defence mechanism, of course; we’re desperate to find a cast-iron reason that will distance us from the miserable fate suffered by someone unnervingly similar to our comfortable little selves; because we don’t want to believe that it could happen to us.

We cannot tolerate the thought that we are not safe. And from this weaselly position of “I’d never get myself into that situation”, it’s a short, shameful step to blaming the victim: why does she stay with him? Why does she put up with it?----

I don’t do lɐɯɹoN

“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.”

― Maya Angelou.

While leaving Bethany on a chilly day in spring, a very short tempered Jesus was craving for fruit (figs to be precise) and he went to a fig tree but when he looked up, there were no juicy figs waiting for him (probably because fig trees only bear figs in summer.duh!)

So in anger, Mr.Jesus said to the tree “No man eat fruit from you henceforth for ever!”

He doomed the fig tree to perpetual fruitlessness, i.e., death because it didn’t have the juicy fruit he was craving for and alas! by the next morning, the poor tree had withered from the roots to the tip. 

I might be the only one who thinks that Jesus was a tad unfair to curse the poor tree instead of abracadabra-ing it to produce the biggest juiciest figs ever seen to man.

Moral of the story is, everything needs to live up to its purpose in life..... so just as that fig tree was meant to create oxygen, pull down rain and to provide the son of God with big nyummy juicy figs, I too should have a purpose in life..... so what is my purpose of being a human being? 

Is there something specific I was born to do, or was I just born to love the people close to me, look good and be merry?

In a recent deep conversation with my sister in-law, I asked her whether she would encourage my nieces to have children 

“Of course I want them to have NORMAL lives and would like them to have families of their own. Tamar is always talking about how many kids she will have.” She said.

Tamar is seven, at seven I never knew how children were ‘created’ leave alone how many I wanted.

Now I’d like to assume that most parents want the best for their kids..... and I guess that since my sister in-law has been such an exceptional mother to her children, it is understandable that she wishes the same beautiful experience for her children. Her biggest purpose in life was to be a great mum and encourage her kids to be the same; and I appreciate that.

So what is normal?

A nuclear family living in their picket fenced house in suburbia? A family living in a shack in a slum? or maybe a polygamous family living together

in a little village in the middle of the jungle?

I guess ‘normal’ means different things to different people; it just depends on experience or circumstances, but  like most freethinking people, what I’ve always perceived as ‘normal’ has constantly changed with growth and time. If you’d ask me, some of the things I called normal two years ago are not the same things I’d call normal today. 

For example, I recently decided that it is not normal to be constantly unhappy and do nothing about it, it is not normal to live my life surrounded by doubt and regret, and for safety reasons it is not normal to try and fix something that’s broken as I might end up with a seriously deep gash in an attempt to fix it.

Whatever my purpose as a human being is, it is certainly not to do what is deemed as ‘normal’, I would rather go against the grain but never feel like I sold myself short at any point of my life. But that’s just me..... I am too young and free to get stuck in any ways.

And as scary as my immediate future looks, I’d seriously detest finding myself dealing with the same demons I’m dealing with today ten years from now. Life is too precious to linger over the same old things; if something constantly bothers me, I would rather get rid of it permanently and move onto the next phase.

So no matter how subtle or crude our objectives in life are, there is no normal life, there’s just life. So get on with it.

Some will, Some won't, So what?

If I had a £ for every time I've had an argument with my mother about when I will “give her grandchildren”, I would have a P.A to do this bloody blogging for me.

The last time she tried to start an ‘OCCUPY TINDA’S UTERUS’ movement, I told her that I will rip my uterus off and feed it to the neighbourhood stray cats. (No kidding.)

I love children (well behaved ones) and before I go on blabbing about the hows and whys, let me proclaim that I’m not an old woman with a wrinkled crotch and sand filled mammary glands; I am in my late twenties and my ovaries are constantly telling me that they produce fresh-as-daisies-ovum. Does that make me want to have kids? NO.

Six years ago, having a baby was all I could think about..... Reason being I wanted to quickly sprint through the “child-bearing-phase” while I was still young and tight. They say that the younger you are when you push your melon/s, the quicker you bounce back to your sexy body.

I bought cute neutral coloured baby clothes, fleece blankets, bottles and pacifiers in preparation to getting pregnant; but as time went by and my knees turned to jelly, I gave them all to my sister in-law for her second baby.

After a long while my hormones kicked in right before I got married; and I started getting obsessed about the fact that my “fertility shop” was not going to stay open forever, so I took vitamins and minerals with an aim of increasing my chances of getting pregnant..... My significant other at the time never knew that I was trying to get pregnant, but it was only after I got married that I realised that kids (chuckle) were never my thing. I ran to the gynecologist for my 4 year contraceptive implant.

So what drives women into the sudden rush into maternity?

Is it driven by age, society, or the speed to get things ‘over and done with’?

I was driven by the latter...... I knew that I was about to settle down in a society where taking care of kids is quite expensive and wanted to get it out of my way before settling into my career.

Had things gone as I had mapped out, I'd be at such a sad place right now…… just like Isabella Dutton is.

Isabella is a Bri’ish woman whose honesty was cursed by some and applauded by most (Including me). She wrote an article ( http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2303588/The-mother-says-having-children-biggest-regret-life.html#addComment ) which expressed how having two children is the biggest regret of her life. She never intended on having children, but like most women, she felt that her circumstance (marriage) expected her to push out one melon after another.

Now I'd ask why she had the second one if she already regretted having the first one, but just like many women, she thought that having one child would be selfish and probably wanted a ‘play-mate’ for her son. (sigh)

   

 'What I valued most in my life was time on my own; to reflect, read and enjoy my own company and peace of mind. 

And suddenly that peace and solitude wasn't there any more. 

There were two small interlopers intruding on it. And I've never got that peace back.'

 Isabella Dutton

For ages children have been used as 'play-mates' for their sibling, to pass on genes, to "save" failing marriages and they are the "glue" that keeps most people together. It is admittedly easier to walk away from a bad relationship if there are no kids involved. A huge plus+ I'd say.

So do I think that people with children have a better quality of life and are happier than I am? NO. If anything I have gotten to a point where I feel sorry for people who have children. Having observed people I know bringing up their children and imagining the worry they have to endure while trying to provide the best for their children and the blame they put on themselves every time their children are unsuccessful, I'd count myself lucky to have known better. Only one friend has ever admitted that if she was given the chance to do it over again, SHE WOULDN'T.

'I resented the time my children consumed. 

Like parasites, they took from me and didn't give back'

Isabella Dutton

Thing is, your children are not yours till they turn 18, they are yours till death parts you..... and while you lay on your death bed, you will still be thinking about their well-being and the legacy (if any) you've left behind for them.

To me, the sacrifice of laying my lifelong plans around children is not worth it.....I will forever be thankful that something deep within me held me back from making what would be the biggest mistake of my life. But screw regretting..... I’ll just renew my implant when the time comes, buy myself a well deserved pair of shoes and stick a diaper on them! (GRIN)

  'I know there are millions who will consider me heinously cold-blooded and unnatural, 

but I believe there will also be those who secretly feel the same'.

 Isabella Dutton

And when it’s all said and done, Some will, Some won’t, So what?

       

The things I love.

I've walked past this back alley wall many times, and I've always wondered what whomever wrote these words was feeling..... "They must have been at such a bad place" I thought to myself.
Then I walked past it yesterday and I immediately related to what whomever wrote those words was feeling.
I now know..... and more than anything, I now understand.

My biggest fear.

In my young life, I’ve never officially 'broken up' with anyone..... Whenever I felt that something was not working out for me, I found enough time and distance to drift away without causing hurt or disappointment.  And whenever I’ve  bumped into anyone from my past I never ignore them neither do I feel like walking into busy traffic; if anything I’m as pleased to see them as they are to see me.

I recently watched 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'; an intriguing and thought provoking movie about a couple who undergo a procedure to erase each other from their memories when their relationship turns sour.

They then meet up on a train and are almost immediately drawn to each other on account of their radically different personalities and although they apparently do not realize it at the time, they are in fact former lovers, now separated after having spent two years together.

One of my biggest fears is that if I ever broke up with my spouse, he would never want to see me again let alone keep touch. He once told me that he is not the type to ‘keep touch’ with exes; in other words regardless of the terms under which the breaking up occurs, I won’t be exempted from the consequences that have befallen those who came before me.

So since I don't know how to go on about getting someone erased off my memory, my best chances at the moment would lay on enjoying and making the most of what I have right now; It surely would be sad and a little heartbreaking to have invested a lot of time and emotions to be with someone only to realise that if you ever walked out the door your foot would never be let back in...... even through the letter box L

In that stereotypical case..… I am a bona fide 'cheater.'

I came through this today……  

"Do you think your wife may be cheating? There may be an innocent explanation but here are a few of the signs...

• She pays more attention to her appearance.
• She starts a new exercise regime.
• She is aloof and uncommunicative.
• She spends more time with friends or at work.
• She starts staying away overnight because of “sudden “changes of plans”.
• She is uncomfortable when you can hear her on the phone.
• She hides credit card bills."

If that is the case, then I am definitely cheating on my husband.....

Apart from being aloof and uncommunicative, I pay more attention to my appearance, started a new exercise regime, spend a lot of time with my friends and I have a habit coming back home past midnight.

The only bits I don’t partake in are “is uncomfortable when you can hear her on the phone” & “hides credit card bills”; I just never walk off while talking on the phone and don’t see the reason to hide my bills.

Short story - I have a friend who recently went through an amazing weight loss phase. She was dedicated and much disciplined; she dropped from a size 20 to a size 12, the results astonished everyone around her.....But there was one person who was not amused by the sudden change, her partner.

He wasn’t happy that she was happier; he thought that she had become ‘too confident’ and couldn’t stand it. The rest as they say..... Is history.

My question is, why do people believe in such deluded-half-baked-assumptions?

So what if a woman decided to lose a few Kgs and pledge some more time to staying out late with her friends? So what if she trades her old granny knickers for some new sexy lingerie?

Nobody needs to fit into a specific bracket to be labelled a cheater.....  And the fact that such a bracket exists should not discourage women from changing certain aspects of their lives.

I don’t believe being overweight, shabby and having no social life means that I am a loyal wife. Because at the end of the day, I am my own judge and I know where my loyalty lies. 

In a case where my lifestyle makes my significant other think that something fishy must be cooking in my kitchen, he can call Joey Greco ;-)

Branded a Witch.... My take on the BBC 3 Documentary by Kevani Kanda.

(SIGH)

Kevani Kanda - BBC Branded a witch

This will be the most disturbing post I will ever post in my life.....  And there are many reasons for me to be angry.

I caught up with a documentary today and what I saw utterly shocked my husband and I; as a result I have lost my faith in humanity.

The documentary by Kevani Kanda, stemmed up as a result of the deaths of Victoria Climbié and Kristy Bamu.

Eight year old Victoria was tortured and killed in London in 2000 partly because her guardians believed she was possessed by demons. Her mother's boyfriend Carl Manning called Victoria "Satan" in his diary, writing that no matter how hard he hit her, she did not cry. During the abuse, Victoria was burned with cigarettes, tied for periods of more than 24 hours, and beaten with bicycle chains, hammers and cables. 

In the Christmas of 2010, Fifteen year old Kristy was killed by his sister Magalie Bamu and her partner Eric Bikubi at their flat in Newham, east London. He was tortured with knives, sticks, metal bars, a hammer and chisel before being drowned in the bath in an attempt to exorcise him of the devil. He "begged to die", before slipping under the water. Kristy had been killed while he and his siblings were visiting Bikubi and Bamu for Christmas, the court was told.

Kevani Kanda  is a young British lady from DRC who decided to go back to Congo to dig deep into the dark and secretive world of faith-based child abuse and murder due to the witchcraft “kindoki” branding culture very widely practised there (and other parts of Africa of course.)

“Kindoki”, the Lingala word for witchcraft, is one of hundreds of words denoting spiritual evil in the hundreds of African languages spoken wherever Africans live.

Journeying from her home in London to her birthplace in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Kevani leaves her two sons behind and embarks on a journey to discover how ancient traditions have been hijacked in the name of Jesus, why families are singling out vulnerable children and hurting them and why toddlers are having to endure excruciating rituals in order to 'rid them of demons'. The deliverance rituals include torture, starvation, isolation and beatings.

The setting is in a deprived area of Kinshasa, where poor people blame anyone for their misfortune; be it poverty or disease someone has to be held accountable. While she was there she uncovers the shocking truth that even her own cousin has been accused of witchcraft “kindoki” and has been kicked out of the house - setting Kevani on a path to find her and confront her accusers.

Visiting churches in the DRC, Kanda finds children accused of witchcraft because they are disabled, wet the bed, suffer nightmares or are rude to their superiors. She finds that families put toddlers believed to be possessed through painful rituals to rid them of their “kindoki”.

Kevani visits a church in Kinshasa and, at first, says there is a “party-like atmosphere” which suddenly changes when she witnesses the pastors going down a line of children picking out those they suspect of having “kindoki”.

Asking how and why the pastors select the children, one of the pastors tells her that the holy spirit has revealed to him that these kids have been possessed by witchcraft.

He points at a girl and accuses her of !!EATING HER MOTHER.!!

One girl accused of witchcraft tells Kevani: “I had it. I had witchcraft. I came here and they helped me and I was healed. I was wetting the bed but now I don't do it any more.”

She goes to another church to witness what I would call a “kindoki” detox session.

A small boy aged 5 is kneeling on the dusty church floor and is force fed with several cups of hot palm oil; he cries out but is threatened by the adults, his parents are nowhere to be seen.

Kevani watches with a traumatised look and she can’t help it but cry..... She is told that the cleansing will last for three days where the boy will be deprived of food and only given some water.

She vows to return on the third day and when she does, the torture is still going on. At that point the boy is beaten, stretched, pinched, given a hot palm oil enema, is held upside down and while he screams is told not to shit the enema out or else he will be beaten some more.

In a society where parents kick their children out of the house by accusing them of witchcraft, Kevani visits a rehabilitation centre for children who are victims of the witch hunt. On the floor lies a brother and her sister who were doused in petrol and burnt by their relatives infront of their mother. The girl’s inner thighs are badly burnt and the boy has major burns.

Apart from disability, bed wetting or suffering nightmares, the proprietor of the rehabilitation centre tells Kevani that children are also accused of witchcraft as a result of being hated by a step parent, poverty or unexplainable circumstances e.g a relative falling sick.

The whole trip was very upsetting to her, and I bet it was to most people who watched the documentary. Being African (Kenyan), I do not believe in witchcraft but I am very much aware of the fact that beliefs in witchcraft are widespread – in town or countryside – and are also in present in Europe, where Africans have migrated in the last 50 years. They are a means of explaining the unequal distribution of good and bad fortune, and the occurrence of otherwise inexplicable misfortune.

The worst I had seen before Kevani’s documentary was a YouTube clip of a family from a community called the Kisii in Kenya getting burnt alive during a witch hunt and the experience traumatised me.....  Apart from the fact that I couldn’t believe that someone could have the guts to film the whole event and post it on YouTube, I just never thought it could be used as a way of abusing children.

I don’t have children neither do I have the desire to have them, but I do love children and  don’t think my strong protective instincts could let me sit down and watch anyone hurt a child; I would go out of my way to make sure that no child suffers in the hands of an adult.

Anyone who wouldn’t do the same is not fit to be part of the human race.

In religion, coincidence does not exist: the hand of either God or Satan may be seen in every event. To many Africans, this evil power is witchcraft.

In some areas of Africa, where civil wars and economic disasters have left society in disarray, the numbers of allegations have amounted almost to epidemics of accusations. The Congo and southern Nigeria can be particularly singled out, but accusations occur almost everywhere. Not all are taken seriously, but many are. Some are taken to pastors for exorcism, other people attempt their own.

New churches, started by Africans with a self-proclaimed "divine mission", have sprung up everywhere.

These churches do not "control" witchcraft beliefs, although they encourage and profit from them. The pastors of independent African churches may identify children as witches (for a fee) and are prepared to "cure" them (for a further fee) by exorcising the evil spirits.  Some people may feel protective of Religion, but the bottom line is, religion is the root of all evil. It has been used to destroy and hurt humanity in more ways that I can ever explain..... This is one of the many reasons I am an atheist.

Here is a BBC link to the Episode. http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01swd7g/Branded_a_Witch/

Source and research: BBC, Guardian, ibtimes, Wiki

Fake it till you make it?

I used to wonder how someone can call themselves Sir without being officially knighted by the queen (or a representative of hers). But even without a drop of blue in your blood, you could buy a title? Apparently quite legitimately you can call yourself whatever you want as long as you are not defrauding people through its use.

So for a small cash payment, you could be signing yourself Lord, Lady or Laird!

In Kenya we have one Sir.Njonjo a.k.a Sir.Charles a.k.a Duke of Kabeteshire who lives a very English lifestyle, is ashamed of being African and tops it with a reputation of snobbery. But unlike many people who buy their titles, Sir.Njonjo got his due to his horrid reputation for snobbery (and other anti-social atrocities.).

There’s obviously real demand for paid-for titles; a quick internet search shows pages of companies offering to make you a lord, lady or laird, or even a marquis or duke if you pay enough and while some websites charge hundreds to thousands of pounds for the titles, you can buy one for just under £20.

Lordship of the Manor (Lord) and Ladyship of the Manor (Lady) come with a personalised certificate (gold embossed), a few inches or feet of dedicated land in the English woodlands or Scottish highlands, historic coat of arms insignia and a presentation pack. The land is held in charitable trust and the money goes towards conservation work in the said estate; quite a good way of making the wanna-be culprits feel good about their dirty deed. (chuckle)

On one of the title selling websites, they say

“You're about to discover the amazing gift idea which has taken the U.S. and Europe by storm. This gift idea is guaranteed to bring you or a loved one:

• Increased respect from the people you know
• VIP treatment
• Access to the privileged world
• A instant talking point with your friends
• Prestige in the financial world
• A boost to your personal confidence
• Opportunities that otherwise would've passed you by
• Opened doors in your career
• Discounts in the consumer world
• The ability to influence people effortlessly

It's frightening how people in the twenty-first century still perceive a person with a title to be richer, more intelligent and better thought of, than the average Mr. Joe Bloggs. But people do - and you can take advantage of it.

The title holder will notice the instant change in people's attitudes. From the very first moment they realize that you have a title they will treat you as if you were royalty.”

Of course my friends would laugh at my face if I ever divulged that I had just bought myself a title, but in reality if I decided to buy a title my new-found nobility would gain me access to exclusive night clubs, free flight upgrades and if I called a Michelin starred restaurant and said I was Lady Scott, they would ensure that I got the best table, give me complementary champagne and even make sure the head chef came in to introduce himself to me. (lol)  just shows how shallow society is.

Fakery aside, how much is a REAL title? According to the internet, you can buy certain real titles, but it’s a pricey business. Chris Eubank paid £45,000 back in 1996 for the title Lord of the Manor of Brighton. French international bad boy footballer Djibril Cisse became Lord of the Manor of Frodsham when he bought a manor house in Cheshire that came with the title. The property is rumoured to have cost a cool £2 million.

Please be warned that buying a title is hugely looked down on in aristocratic circles, so unless you have the money to buy a real title and match it with a proper lifestyle, all you have bought with your £30 is just a fancy piece of paper - nothing but a change of name that you could have done with a solicitor for just £25.

My relationship with Phase-book.

When I first registered myself on Phase-book in 2007 I was super excited…… I just couldn't stop posting, inboxing and commenting in an attempt of catching up with everyone I knew in the heydays; thanks to my good memory, I managed to track down every single childhood boy I fancied and happily reminded them of how they “overlooked” me and went for the girls with longer hair and bigger boobs (chuckle). It also gave me the chance to ‘catch up’ with the girls who thought they were Queen Bees and getting a quick glimpse of how life was treating them now.

Growing up I was an ugly duckling…… I didn't get much attention from the boys (probably because I was a tomboy who peed in bed –still do sometimes, but that is a story for another day- lol)

By the moment I hit high school, my grey feathers started falling off and I evolved to something else. It doesn't surprise that most of the boys who never paid much attention to me in pre-school regretted it when they saw me again…… On Phase-book.

It was like those school reunions many people dread, where the skater boys who were told “see you later boys” meet the ex-cheerleaders who opted for the pumped up football players only to turn up later in life looking all worn out; nothing close to what they did when their teenage hormones were sizzling and their breasts and hips were blossoming.

It is life’s way of proving that Karma is a bitch.

My exit came as a surprise for most of my friends because I was VERY active. I used to play many level games (Farmville, Frontierville, Cityville) I was raising my own family, building my own empire and making my own money ON FACEBOOK! I was rich! The amount of satisfaction I got from that was amazing. It was like a drug that I couldn't go without; sometimes I used to wake up in the middle of the night to harvest my crops on Farmville or feed my kids on Frontierville. I would spend hours on the internet hoping from one game to another while uploading photos, chatting and engaging in the comments on my wall.

I was spending more time harvesting my gaming friends’ crops, begging them to help me out with my tasks or arguing out my opinions with total strangers in groups. At times the arguments would get nasty, and I was the iron fist once it got to dealing with such matters; but it was only when I found out about internet trolls and what they aim to achieve by shit-stirring that I stopped getting sentimental during group discussions.

So why did I leave Phase-book? It started off as a much needed social media sabbatical. It was just after my second wedding anniversary and I was going through a very rough patch in my life and being the bubbly open book I am, it got my friends very concerned each time I expressed a hint of sadness. Of course I was at a bad place in my life but as much as I needed the support, but I was starting to get frustrated at people feeling sorry for me and sending me motivational messages.

Then I started a new job and broke a major Phase-book rule…… I accepted Phase-friend requests from my colleagues; a major NO-NO in my books. But by the time I realised my major blunder, I couldn't delete them all and restricting them would be rather suspicious.

As much as I valued my friendships, they were becoming so superficial. I was getting tired of people not making up their minds on whether they were ‘In an open relationship’ , ‘Single’ ,  ‘Widowed’ , ‘Married’ or ‘Its Complicated’.

I remember getting bored one day and changing my real birthdate from October 24th to the next day and a few hours later, hundreds of birthday wishes started streaming in! Some of my real friends even fell for it! That is when I realised that I could be anyone I wanted to be and people would believe anything I said as long as they read it on Phase-book.

It was a Phase that I needed to get past…… So I sent a wall post saying that I was taking a break and deactivated my account for two weeks. During my time off I didn't miss it and was only intouch with about five people; that was when I knew that I was doing the right thing.

So I logged back on and made the announcement, I WAS GOING FOR GOOD. I put up a wall post and told my Phase-friends that I thought Phase-book was a total waste of my time and that I was leaving.

I also deleted my 90+ photo albums (my husband thinks it was irrelevant given that I was not planning on going back, but I needed to erase anything that had the capacity to tempt me back.)

I then sent an email to my friends giving them alternative ways to get in touch with me and I have never felt more liberated. While this move is unimaginable to many people, bidding adieu to Phase-book actually strengthened my existing relationships and enhanced my social life.

Of course it means that I am out of touch with many people, some who I will dearly miss, but anyone who is not willing to keep touch with me via email, phone, text, pigeon, drums or smoke signals is a peripheral acquaintance who does not matter and is not worth keeping touch with. Period. I also spend my time doing better things, like watching movies on Netflix and Blogging ;-)

Me not being on Phase-book is without fail a splendid conversation starter, and it adds a certain element of “ suspense” to my life…… so I have been told.

Anupta-what?

While working as a mortgage adviser at some bank, I had so many clients getting in touch to alert us to their marital splits and trying to find out how they would go on about  “removing him/her from the mortgage”.

Luckily for my husband and in the spirit of being young and smitten (I blame the Love-Bug), I happily suggested a prenuptial agreement before we got married as I wanted him to feel more secure with the assets he had acquired before the marriage and didn't want him to live in the fear that the girl from far-far-far away land might turn everything he had worked so hard for upside down.

(If I was to do it again, I would make sure I lay down some ultimatums before signing the dotted line. But that is a story for another day; so for now I will settle for splitting what we acquired TOGETHER. Oh how I would love to solely own the 48" Toshiba 3D Telly, Kenwood food processor and the PS3! -among other goodies.

Divorce is always a bitter pill to swallow, and it does creep in when people least expect it. But there are those people who think that they would have a better chance of sanity if they just held on and pretended not to notice the obvious impurities in their marriage. I am aware of the fact that relationships inevitably change over time, but I don’t know how I would deal with a situation where I wanted to walk away and be by myself..... I just wouldn't know how to cope with being 100% Single. (I'd be forced to hire myself a "mate") lol.

In a study of married men and women, the majority of wives (59%) said they would divorce immediately if their future economic security was assured.

In-fact, most people admit that they can’t leave their miserable marriages because they fear financial and emotional hardship and would rather stay in an unhappy relationship just for an easy life, for the sake of the children or to save themselves going through a massive upheaval.  Some people are more worried about what they would lose if they left their partner and they fear that they would have to give up their home if they split.

Being a very strong advocate for “walking away”, I am utterly scared of being single..... Not because I am worried about financial instability, but because I have never been single. They have a name for that kind of fear, Anuptaphobia.  

I suspect myself to be emotionally unstable and can’t fathom how hard it must be not to have someone to comfort and shelter you from the storm or lay out in the sun with you when things get upsy. 

Lets say that I've been fortunate to have always had someone in my life; be it a boyfriend, a ‘companion’ or a husband.

And that is where my ‘Monkey’ concept comes in.....Shallow as it may seem, I am like a monkey; I wouldn't let go of a branch unless I had my hand on another.

***Update***
01st March 2017. Ive been gone for over three years and I can't believe how much growing I've done. I didn't want anything when I walked away, not even the goodies I listed above.

Leave..... and let live.