Get a massage, they said. It’s very relaxing, they said.

So I decide to upgrade myself from the $2 mall-chair massage to a proper one. One of those relaxing ones.

After skimming through the medical questionnaire, ticking mostly “NO” in my answers, I am ushered into a dimly lit room with a scent that I assume is supposed to transcend me to an exotic place.

“Take off ALL your clothes and put them in that basket over there, then hop on the bed, head on this side and feet on that side, and cover yourself with the towel. Leave your underwear on.” These were the commands whispered by my soon to be masseuse. Why do they whisper?

I do this rather hesitantly because I only needed my shoulders and calves done, I am not sure why I needed to take off ALL my clothes. I hop on the slim bed and put my face in the hole lined with a 1.5 ply toilet seat cover. I pull the towel over me but it’s not big enough, my hips and side boobs are on display. I am feeling very exposed so naturally I tense up and my mind is definitely still in the room and not in Bora Bora. Instead, I am wondering how those blessed with larger bosoms get their massages done.

A few minutes later, masseuse comes back and whispers ” how much pressure do you like?” Uuummm I don’t know, medium rare? What are the options? “Medium,” I say to her.

No sooner had I closed my eyes to drift off to a sandy beach, than they instantly went wide in shock and pain. Masseuse landed on me, thup! wrestling style elbows first! whhooooaaaaa! what scale are we using!!!? I scream. “Too much?” she asks, still whispering. “Yes! Yes! too much!” I scream. She dials it down a bit and barely relax. I note that she is still on the bed. Suddenly I feel her knees digging into my thighs and then she is crawling on me. I’m in pain, this is not relaxing at all!

She jumps off the bed, thankfully. Maybe now I can start to relax. The towel starts to move, I tense up again as I feel it moving lower and lower. She tucks it in my undies, then she pulls the undies down! Omera weri gi sirwacha! I scream in my head in my ethnic language asking her to leave my undies alone. I say nothing to her and grind my teeth instead. She starts to knead me like a chapati. I am now half tense half relaxed as the pain slowly leaves my body. Or maybe it’s because I’m now craving chapatis, I don’t know.

She gets to my neck, then goes upwards and starts massaging my head. No, no, no, not the hair! Another inward scream. I had just finished a natural hair routine that involves applying a concoction that includes, avocado, mayonnaise, onions, eggs, tea tree oil and castor oil, to mention a few . So I was not really up for my hair being disturbed.

As I’m still thinking about my hair, I feel fire on my back!!!! wuuuuwiiiii! I let out a proper scream, “Is the hot stone too hot for you?” Masseuse whispers. “Yes,” I semi-whisper back, willing myself not to tear up. After the hot stones event, she slaps me repeatedly as if she was putting out an actual fire, then she covers me and moves to the lower body.

At this point I am feeling so exposed that I have lost the will to fight or fret. With her sharp elbows, she is kneading away the knots on my calves that have accumulated from all the Bulgarian split squats, Romanian deadlifts, Russian twists, Hindu push-ups, Iranian glute bridges, and whatever other foreign exercises they make you do nowadays. Ok, I made up that last one. But seriously, whatever happened to just skip ropes and star jumps?

“Ok, we are done!” She announces gleefully after giving me another round of slapping. I lift my head up, taking the 1.5 ply toilet seat cover that is now stuck to my face with me. I am too busy spitting the tissue out of my mouth to say anything, so I grunt a thank you in the hope that she will understand.

After she leaves the room, I let out a sigh of relief. My body is shinny and slippery causing me to walk funny and trip all over myself. My dress has patches of oil marks and it’s clinging to me, highlighting all my bumps. I want to sleep as I have a better chance of drifting off to Bora Bora in my sleep.

Get a massage, they said. It’s very relaxing, they said.

You said the vaccine is a hoax and you do not know what is in it. Fair point, neither to do I. I also do not know what was in the yellow fever, TB, Hep B or Hep C. In fact, when I was going to an African country, the doctor pumped my system with so many vaccines I nearly got too sick to travel. Was this the same for you when you needed to travel for business or pleasure?

You are scared of what the vaccine will do to you. Of course! Your fear is valid and so is mine. I am scared of what the virus might do to me. I have not gathered all the facts yet but I have witnessed people close to me fight for their lives and lose their sense of taste because of Covid. This is enough for me to hedge my bets with the vaccine. By all means, exercise your right not to be vaccinated, and I will also exercise my right to protect myself and those that I care about. I refuse to take a risk by sharing my space with you.  If it were any consolation, I would not share my space with someone that had measles, TB, or dengue fever.

The restaurant will not allow you in without proof of vaccination. Well that just sucks. That person behind you has had to cover their tattoos and piercings otherwise, they too will not be allowed in. Behind them is a group of friends negotiating their way in. They have been denied entry because one of them did not have the proper footwear or shirt. Oh and there was this one time when my family was denied entry at a restaurant because we were black. I was livid! and I spoke up for my rights. Do you know what the privileged people around me did? Nothing! I truly sympathise with you but honestly, there are people who are constantly fighting for basic rights. You can understand how this fight is not on their priority list.

Have you given a thought to the anti-vaxxer with similar fears and concerns like you but they do not have the luxury of losing their job, spouse, friends or children. They do not have centerlink or mum and dad or savings to fall back on. So against their will, they have to take the vaccine to survive. Then they have to tip toe around you because your privileged self-will judge and disown them for making this choice. How dare they take the vaccine behind your back? Can you see the irony?

This might be hard for you but spare thought also for the person that desperately wants to get the vaccination but they cannot. Because their medical condition puts them at risk or country is not developed enough like yours and their hands are covered in dirt from burying their loved ones. These people have to watch you with your plethora of choices carrying on the streets wishing they also had a choice.

The vaccine was developed too fast. Yes it absolutely was! I want to believe that with all the information and technology at our disposal, humans have become faster, better and smarter and therefore we do not have to wait 10 years for a vaccine to be developed.

Vaccine mandate is like apartheid. Now this is just wrong, insensitive and inconsiderate of you. Victims of apartheid did not have a choice. The coloniser just walked into their space and decided that they were inferior humans simply for being born in a different skin. There was absolutely no choice given. If someone had developed a vaccine that the Africans could take to make the brutality stop, don’t you think they would be lining up to get whatever they could to just to make it stop? and be left to enjoy freedom in their own countries?

Look around your fellow protesters. What kind of people do you see? Is it that same person that not long ago you were asking to, “Follow your laws and rules or go back to where they came from?” I bet not. That person is now just following the rules and laws and moving on with their lives. They do not have the privilege to take to the streets and make noise with you because when things go wrong, they will be on the next fight out of here while you go back to your home to watch it all on TV.

We all have fears and concerns, but please, do not make yours more important than mine. We still have to exist on this planet together. The least we can do is treat each other with respect and kindness.

Most importantly, educate yourself thoroughly so that by the time you are taking action, you know exactly what it is you are fighting for.

Now look at the card, is this your privilege?

The general rule is that when you see another African you do the “I see you” nod and keep on with your Business.

This one time I was fuelling my car and saw an African man on the other side, so I nodded and proceeded to bop to the song in my head. The man nodded back, smiled and started walking towards me. This completely messed up the flow. We don’t walk to the other person, in fact we don’t’ even talk! Unless the rules changed and I missed the memo. But there he was, offering a hand shake and talking but I’m nodding absently in agreement but completely oblivious to whatever he was saying.

Today, I walk into Pillow talk wide eyed with all the fresh merchandise they have on display.

I see two Africans and I instinctively do the nod but as I walk away, I notice that they did not nod back. How rude! I think to myself. It’s just a quick nod, how hard could that be? I wasn’t going to talk or shake hands. I roll my eyes to no one in particular and carry on with my window-shopping.

On the way out, I see them still standing at the same spot. I walk over for a second try and..

They were bleeping mannequins!

Ha! Should have gone to spec savers!

I am just about to bite into my Vietnamese pork roll with extra chili and coriander when New Kid comes over to my desk.
N.K Catherine I like your earrings.
Me: Thanks! ( I position my head to take a bite)
N.K Are they aboriginal?
Me: No, they are from my home country; Kenya.
She hangs around idly for a few seconds then goes to her desk. I cherish the silence and even close my eyes to take the next bite.

That doesn’t last long as she comes back.
N.K. Catherine why is there a gym above us?
Me: wo pu ce tau, I say more to myself than in response.
N.K What is that? I don’t know what that means.
Me: It means I don’t know in Chinese.
N.K: (Gasps and shouts) ARE YOU BEING RACIST!
Me: (I conjure all the calmness in me) and ask her, “how many languages do you speak?”
N.K uuumm, I speak Russian, Ukrainian and English.
Me: So when you say things in one or the other language are you being racist?
N.K No I am not.
She shifts her weight to one leg and chews rather loudly on a celery stick. I assume to ponder on my answer.

Then out of the blue,she says “Catherine, there is so much work to do here! I am surprised you are not aggressive.
Me: I swallow my pork roll after 2 chews and not the recommended 26. My brain is completely a mess as I am wondering how one responds or reacts to that comment.

Serenity now!

My hair is braided and I’m sitting at my desk trying to get some work done when the new kid in the team walks up to me.

New kid : I like your hair, how long does it take to make? can I touch it?
Me: Polite-ish smile but I answer her questions and even let her touch it.
New Kid: What country are you from?
Me: Still Polite-ish smile and I decide to engage. “Take a guess,” I say.
New Kid: Africa!
Me: Faded smile and trying to be calm I say “Africa is not a country.” (someone else would have added the word dear or love here but I’m not one to misuse words)
NK: ohh give me a clue what’s the first letter?
Me: K
NK: Thinks for a moment then shouts, oh, oh I know Cambodia!

At this point I am not smiling at all as there is someone screaming in my head HOW!!!??? SERIOUSLY??? SERIOUSLY????

Oh no she is not done yet. She goes to lunch and comes back sweating and fanning herself profusely, stands next to me and says, “oh my gosh Catherine it’s Africa out there!”
I actively ignore her and continue typing maybe harder than I intend to.
She leans into my space this time and says “Catherine you didn’t hear me, I said it’s Africa out there.”

After a hard full stop, I swing my chair round so I am looking straight at her. Poker face on;
Me: Have you ever been to Africa?
NK: No
Me: So how do you know it’s just like Africa?
NK: She looks about to see if anyone is witnessing this, on realising that no one else cares, she raises her voice and shouts “oohhh did you guys see her face? and she is so serious! I better not make her angry, she might hit me!”

I am calm! I am calm I am CLAM!!

As I sip on my very chilled mojito made in Barcelona I decide to take in my environment.

An Italian couple to my right, sitting so close together their breathing seems in sync. The signora a is busy shoving biscotti or something down the signore’s throat. He eats with no protest.

*sip mojito*

Behind me another Italian couple both snoring whilst holding hands. I think they are travelling together with the biscotti eating ones.

Two seats in front of me are two only other Africans on the flight. I am rather excited to see people from the mother land. One wearing a maroon corduroy jacket with a matching scarf, the other had his flat cap back to front. Both wearing sun glasses so I quickly assume they are either from Nigeria or Congo.

*picks mojito..no sip…must take it slow*

The Africans start talking and I actively eavesdrop in the hope of catching a language I can understand. I move my head closer and closer and jolt up when I realise that my forehead is just about touching with the guy sitting in front of me. I pick Asia as his continent but yesterday I met an Italian GaoXian so I am not too certain on this one. He chose the middle seat yet both isle and window were empty. Who picks the middle seat on purpose? I wonder

*sip mojito*

I try another angle and I can catch bits and pieces of what the Africans are saying. Igbo! thank goodness! no wait sounds like lingala..or is it French? Dutch? I move closer, now on the edge of my seat. Portuguese? Shhhhhh I am trying to listen here, I say inwardly  to the flight attendant who is yelling “pardon!” to those two Italian;Correction very hot Italian men hoping from seat to seat. One of them is a geek. I know because he is humming to a star trek soundtrack.

*sip air because mojito is gone and I don’t want to look like a fool*

Ouch my ears hurt. We are descending.  I hate small planes. I must stay very still. I assume to crouch position and swear to myself that if I get brave enough I might just ask where they are from.

Be true to yourself! Embrace who you are! Find yourself!
I have heard these phrases thrown around a lot, sometimes straight at me. For a long time their true meaning has eluded me, until I met the dogs.

There is this dog that occasionally comes for our morning walks and as much as I avoid going anywhere near it, I have been observing it closely. As a general park rule, dogs are supposed to be on a leash and so when we are walking this dog is usually on a leash. From the moment we gather at the starting point this dog would not sit still! It would bark at anything and anyone and try to get out of the leash. When I asked why it carries on so much, I was told that it just wanted to start walking and that was it’s way of saying, “Come on, let’s move!” Sure enough, when we start walking it would settle down.

During the walk though, it would still be restless and always seem to want to get in front of the owner who is usually one of the faster ones that ahead of the group . One day the owner asked if I (The only one in the group that is scared of dogs) would be ok for it to go off the leash for a bit. I was feeling brave and had stopped climbing on strangers whenever an off-the-leash dog approached us, so I obliged. As soon as the leash came off, the dog charged to the front of the group and the endless barking stopped! I also observed that it mainly stayed ahead of us and occasionally came to the back but stayed one the outside as if to round us up.

Later I found out that this is a herding dog. Driven by fascination, I decided to look up the traits of herding dogs and this is what came up: Herding dogs, also classified as working dogs, share characteristics and physical traits, such as agility, speed and loyalty. Overall, they are smart, happy, energetic and athletic animals that need to be active.

A few months later I was hosting a party at my house and a friend asked if he could bring his dog along. Yes, A dog at my house! I can hear your gasp from here. After going through my check list when about to come in contact with animals, I felt reassured that this dog would be harmless and not suddenly turn into a large wolf and eat me alive. And so the dog came to the party. As promised, it made no fuss, it was happy to engage with quests that gave it attention, otherwise it stayed on the one spot and was just happy to be around people. I was quite impressed.

This dog was a Labrador and when I looked it up, this is what I found: These are dogs bred to work and work hard and they love to have jobs to do, particularly retrieving. They are intelligent and fairly easy to train, partly from their desire to work with people. Owing to their energetic nature, Labradors who are left alone or not well exercised can become destructive — chewing, digging and barking to excess.

Based on what I observed and the little that I have read, what I got from this is that while both dogs like to work, the herd dogs like to take charge and thrive when left alone to do their job. Labradors on the other hand like to be and work alongside people and when left alone for too long, they become destructive.

I think we all already have an idea of what kind of dog we relate to best. Whether we realize it or not, we are happiest when we are true to the type of breed we are;true to who we are, and when we are forced or pretend to be something we are not, we get frustrated and can even become destructive.

If you already know who you are and are being true to yourself, kudos! If you are still searching, keep calm, it will come and you’ll know exactly which dog you are. And when you do, embrace it!

So, thinking back to our encounters and interactions both at work and socially or If you could take a guess, which of these two dogs do you think embodies my natural characteristics?

Asking for myself.

I’m in the bathroom minding my own business when the person in the next cubicle starts having a conversion I assume with someone else on the phone. I was amused when I realised she was speaking both my dialect (Luo) and national language (Swahili). My first instinct was to say something in either of those languages but I am all grown now and I don’t talk to people in the toilets, especially if I cannot see them. Unless of course I am asking for a square of the toilet roll.

She leaves before I could catch a glimpse of her. But when I get to my dance class, I see the only other African person in class. I know we live in a society full of cultured people and anyone could have been speaking my language but I am taking my chances.We do the ” I see you brother/sister” African nod but say nothing to each other; as is the rule. I note that she is new by the way she took the corner spot at the back, and kept looking at her feet when she danced, just like I did when I was a dance newbie. Many moons later, I have graduated to the front line and for some weird reason I found myself trying to be better, ok I admit I was showing off a bit.

First break comes along and I walk over to her and say hello in Swahili smiling more to myself in anticipation of her surprised look. In my head, I was to say hello in Swahili, she would gasp and ask how I knew she was Kenyan, then I would pull some mentalist move and earn my cool kid badge. These opportunities don’t come along too often.

In reality, I smiled and said hello in Swahili, she looked at me over her shoulder, sized me up and turned her head back to her phone. As my coolness slowly melted away, I sat next to her and asked where she was from. She replied with a bit of a twang “I’m from the Caribbean” My queue to gasp as I wasn’t expecting that. Again, I know, cultured society. She then glosses this over by adding that she only speaks French, German and Spanish. Now I am properly wowed. I find multi linguists fascinating, especially if they are fluent in all the languages they speak.

I then say to her that I could have sworn I’d heard her speaking Swahili and Luo in the bathroom not too long ago. Her queue to gasp, followed by a jump, an oh my gosh, a thigh slap and an additional octave in her voice. “You speak luo too! so what are we doing speaking in English, let’s speak dholuo!

My response; wie bitte?