CHRIST(‘S)MAS OR X-MAS?

Call me Scrooge and slap me silly or the Grinch-that-stole-Christmas and pinch me blue! What am I on about? The early Christmas hullabaloo!!

Do not mistake my grouchiness for dislike of the season, I simply do not understand why we must begin to “deck the halls” and gift-shop from the first day of December! By the time the actual Christmas week rolls around I have “festive fatigue”!! See, most of us, myself very included, in this economy and current inflated…everything…do not have the luxury of time to sit and day dream about shiny bright lights and blinking baubles on trees <who’s history in the African context is suspect> and gifts we can barely afford unless we steal hours to make them ourselves! Or maybe we should all, for those 24hours of the feted 25^th, revert to our childhood state so we can truly enjoy the festivities without a care about bills from here to the afterlife come the equally celebrated New Year.

I am all for celebrating the birth of our Saviour but I have a huge problem with how it is done by many. Plus by the time the real Christmas day rolls round all the joy has gone out of it, for me, at least. Why must we squander sums irreplaceable when we’ve been miserly all year through and all on our selves(selves inclusive of family)? Trips abroad or out of town, further lining pockets of transporters from air to rail and everything in between as they ruthlessly hike their fares claiming ‘peak’ rates; yet another monster we have nurtured with our excesses. Family gatherings are sweet but when they turn into a contest about which sibling gave the parents the priciest gift, the opposite becomes reality, Rivalries, debt, irritations and misunderstandings between spouses, siblings, parents, employers, employees and the whole lot and you wonder where the “Merry” in the greeting disappeared to! Boss didn’t give you that hefty Christmas bonus? Parents didn’t get you that Nintendo WII? Boyfriend didn’t get you that rose gold ring? Neighbour didn’t invite you to that Choma? Come on, do we always have to receive for it to be Christmas? Do we have to string up ugly hues of cheap crepe and place unnecessary trinkets under even more incomprehensible Christmas trees to truly display our Christmas spirit?

Malls in Nairobi started decorating by the last week of November, advertisements on mainstream media began with their “Christmas Sale” rags by the 5^th  of December everyone begun to get into the “holiday mood” >>If you ask me, it’s an excuse to be legally unproductive True, everyone needs a good break at the end of the year, but why do we fuel the December madness by accumulating our ‘leave’ days, booking left right and centre all roads leading out of our locales and saving up to fill bottomless pits all in a matter of a few days? Surely! And the sad bit is, many of us will not be celebrating the real reason for the season, we will be celebrating ourselves. Feeding the body(self), drinking(self), travelling for leisure(self), partying(self). Alright I won’t bore you with the “sharing is caring” adage but it begs some consideration if you think you need it then doesn’t someone else who can not in the least afford it need a bite of the ‘holiday’ as well?

Again if you love all the bits about Christmas that I seemingly dislike, fear not, you’re a part of the majority. However, spare a thought for those this season who may have nothing to be merry about other than the life they barely hold on to. Spend wisely, travel safely and thank God for your cheery self.

Ah, I tire. Let me go board my ‘matatu’ full of people with already heaped shopping bags loudly making travel plans on their cell-phones in preparation for “Christmas”.

 

CURLYVOLUTION

Disclaimer: Gentlemen, this might get a tad “technical” for you but if you care to be prepared incase a girl comes to the great choice between straight and curly: proceed!

The much argued over “N” word is now an everyday buzzword for me. Yep! I made the switch from straight to curly and I am loving it!

No this is not one of those , “Fighting for the misunderstood natural-headed girl” tirades. Far from it. It’s a personal victory piece, with yours truly as victor(-ria?)

See I am one of those girls who lived most of her childhood and early adult life by the power of a blow-drier or hair drier for those so inclined, whenever I needed my hair “appropriately” straight for occasions like Church (according to my mother), parties and job interviews. I would look longingly at girls with dreadlocks and short curly hair with such sadness I’m sure I  must have creeped out the poor lasses.  When I did eventually use chemicals to straighten out my hair, locally familiar as “perming”, I was excited for all of a year before I realized I missed my natural, stress-free head! The rules outnumber the 10-commandments and doesn’t God say He gives us everything we need for life and godliness? Well, for all ya’ll still sporting sleek, glossy tresses courtesy of Dark and Lovely, Motions or whatever other relaxers exist, you identify with the:

• Every two week treatment regime
• Every six month (less or more depending on your hairdresser’s need for that extra 1500) “re-touch”
• Every bi-monthly or so hot oil treatment
• Every conditioning when you go swimming
• Every morning application of either/and or polisher, sheen spray, hair lotion/pink lotion/moisturizing lotion
• Every bi-monthly or so (depending on your speed of hair-growth) choice between a weave, wig or braid to protect your growth in that un-manageable state between new natural hair and old relaxed hair.

I could go on with mentions of tongs, flat irons and the like but by now it’s clear it’s quite a task(at least it was for me) to maintain my “perm”.  I would forget my re-touches until my salonist would call me exasperatedly asking me if I still had anything worth calling hair on my head. I would take a peek in the mirror and retort with a “What do you think is keeping the braids up?” shot. Pat, myself on the back and keep going strong into month two with my beloved plaits! I do believe there are people in my campus years who swear they never saw my real hair because I kept it in twists or three-strand plaits all year round. Ahh, the joys of being a student =)

 Well fast forward to a crazy scheduled life with narry a second to spend the at least, note, at least, four hours at the salon and you can guess the frustration I experienced. At this one time I had a job that had me living out of a bag because of all the travel so the state of my hair(well concealed under, yeah, you guessed right…my trusty braids) was appalling! Enough times I threatened my hairdresser with talk of chopping it all off and the look on his face was enough to cow me into sitting meekly as he washed, “moussed”, set and sprayed my hair into submission, all the while reminding me how much time, energy and love, yes, love, I know, he had put into nurturing it! I don’t deny that the outcome was never disappointing but the time!! And then the migraines begun because of all the heat-treatment from the irons/tongs/curlers/driers, I simply could not do it any more!

Come 2011 and I got tired of a lot of things. Those will constitute another piece but the best thing I know I did was grow out my “perm”.  I can be spotted traipsing carefree along Nairobi’s streets with my baby-‘fro’. It’s only three months old but I can’t get enough of it. I won’t deny that it does require maintenance that almost equals that of straightened hair but the best part is, aside from the odd weekend or two, I get to manage it all on my own! With the right products and awesome advice from those who have gone before me, I have not experienced such freedom.

I actually experience the world in a different way. People look at me with all manner of expression, both people I know and those I don’t. When I’m all kitted out for work, comments like, “I want to work there, how do you sport a ‘fro all week?” or all manner of humans wanting to run their fingers through it to determine whether it’s really my hair or “Is it as soft as it looks?” (hehe the pseudo-narcissist typed that last bit). At a friend’s place in the morning, her dad looks at me, then turns to her and asks, “Did your friend forget to comb” and then asking if I was growing it into dreads which he seemed to be more at ease with instead of this half-grown-half-curled do I’ve been pinning to one side. We had a good laugh about it! Then my parents, with whom I do not reside, and who therefore get to see me after a month of Sundays, they saw, pondered and pondered some more. It’s some kind of awesome to stump my mother for those of you that may know or know of her Oh and the boys. Well, let’s just say there are those that like it and those that do not, and that, my friends, is just as it should be =)

Well good or bad, I am in a very happy place with my hair and intend to be for yet a good while.

To natural hair and natural haired girls: Rock that Curl/Lock!!

 

And we’re Back!

It’s been so long since I wrote this feels like a homecoming of sorts. I’ve been through here’s and there’s that are too numerous to pen but I definitely will be dishing out the highlights in subsequent posts. In the meantime I have been enjoying the musings of some fresh bloggers I happened upon via Twitter, will list some so you can decided for yourself what you think of their writing.

 A lot has taken place in my life, my city and my country. If you love Kenya like I do you will agree that sometimes it feels surreal watching and hearing the things going on in our beloved Kenya currently. Normally I’d be on here furiously typing out my opinion on everything from the corruption allegations against MPs to the demise of our inspiring Dr. Wangari Maathai(Rest In Peace, Heroine, Champion of Club Do-Something-About-It and trailblazer for millions in activism everywhere), to the inflation that seems to be high on a yet undiscovered substance and the current war…situation. These past months however I took a step back to survey (and pray) over the goings on. Prices of things fluctuate so much it makes me feel like I’ve lived four lifetimes in one and lived to tell the story, not to mention the insecurity levels that constantly re-invent themselves from ‘simple’ muggings to gang rape and murder and unexplained disappearances, no locale within the city excluded.

Feel free to visit The Greenbelt Movement site and see how this badge can help you honour the late Dr. Maathai’s cause>>

This is not to mean I’ve been living in fear, no, I’ve had my share of being out and about. It just means that what I have to take into consideration before going somewhere like transport, timings and location are really starting to give in to pale in comparison to the option of a relaxed night in especially after work weeks like the ones that seem to be an everyday occurrence nowadays. That’s been another issue; I get home sometimes and I could swear my room has moved a few inches farther than it was in the morning! Days morph into weeks, weeks melt into months and the only trick I have up my sleeve nowadays is sneaking a random weekend getaway from the city-to a haven where deadlines, meetings, reports and must-attend-do’s take a back seat for a few blissful day. Of course these getaways aren’t as many as I’d like nor do they come at exactly the right time but they are the silver lining, no doubt!

Ever watched the movie 27 Dresses? I’m living it and probably at 37 by now. I am sure there is a memo circulating that hasn’t reached me yet and If I were to guess it goes something like,

“To … it is officially open wedding season and there’s only a few months left so grab a date and a bride/groom and have at it”, Signed, the Universe!!

 

I wish all the happy couples long, loving, blessed and fun nuptials but if I don’t participate in another wedding for several long minutes, the earth will rotate a little easier on its axis and that is the truth!

Through the writer’s block period I was harshly reminded every day that I didn’t buckle down and write, just how much of an anchor putting pen to paper is for me. In primary school, science class to be precise, we learned about earthing- define. Well, my pen “earths” my thoughts onto paper and that’s what eventually shows up here. Yes, I am of that dying breed that first drafts everything on good old paper before typing out, my thoughts feel much more connected to the resulting words that way. Yes, they (my thoughts) told me that

MUSIC. My other form of release.

 

TOOK ME THROUGH A WHOLE TWO MONTHS

So now my two loves can co-exist as I get back to telling you what I think, feel, am learning and know, Mwixelligently of course!

Check out the musings of Snippets of My Life-esp TGIF by @kawiria, Fikira Zangu by @buogha, Nanjira: Confessions of Aquila by@ninanjira and feel free to share any others that you like. All rather likable Kenyans

 

STILL RIDING HIGH ON THIS ONE (bonus for reading till the very end of this very long post

 

The High is Down

The high is down

 

It felt like I was about to fly

Like I was about to hit the sky and land on the moon

It felt like I was going to scale the peak

Like I was going to actually get there.

 

I felt like my inner eyes opened

Like I could truly breathe what I had so missed

I felt like the wait was over

Like I was where I should be.

 

My mind felt like it was free

Like vision was clearer and goals closer to reach

My soul felt like cotton candy

Like petals in a gentle breeze.

 

Heart felt like lotus leaves

Like melting chocolate on a warm and moist tongue

Heart felt like bursting seams

Like full; yet still empty.

 

Then it felt like nothing

Like it had all been a wistful and silly dream

Then it felt like sadness

Like a hollow tree trunk.

 

It felt like I was about to fly

Like I was about to hit the sky and land on the moon

It felt like I was going to scale the peak

Like I was going to truly get there.

 

Then it felt like it wasn’t supposed to feel;

The high is down!

 

Endangered Men?

I got one of those forwards recently that I did not delete on sight because it had a title that sounded a tad oxymoronic to me:

“Men-the Real Truth” (need I say more?)

The bottom line of the piece was how men sacrifice tirelessly to care for their women(read mothers, sisters/cousins, girlfriends/wives) and provide the best for them at all costs.

Some extracts from the message are:

“He starts compromising at a very tender age. He sacrifices his chocolates for his sister.”

“…thus he sacrifices full youth for his wife and children without any complain.”

“…yet every mother, wife and boss tries to have control over him.”

“Finally his life ends up by compromising for others’ happiness.”

“Respect every boy/man in your life. You will never know what he has sacrificed for you.”

It got me thinking and I must admit there are some guys out there who fit the bill. Unfortunately over time this scenario has changed and I am tempted to replace all the “he’s” with “she’s” because in today’s society, women do way more sacrificing than the men in their lives.

Granted there’s some truth; and as Mr. Ezekiel suggested and I quote:

“You see the truth is that in this era of empowerment n all…men’s roles are really looked down upon. Men themselves are really taken for granted. I cud sing a song but am a man and we are expected to be tough”

I sent it to a few guy pals to feel them out on it and I was surprised.

Rebmann said “…we always see it as a duty rather than a burden.”

Sam on the other hand believes men are macho and shouldn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. He is also of the opinion that it is not necessary for the women in their lives to pour out their appreciation in buckets, an occasional “thank you” would suffice. I like something Rebmann added “…men appear unappreciated cause most of their efforts are normally viewed as what they ought to do…” This I concur with to an extent and must admit am partially of the school of thought asking why should it be a celebration when men take up their responsibility when it’s basically God-given for them to do?

I’m on the fence because I think my problem lies in:

• The generalization. Some men do not know what sacrifice is, the women in their lives sacrifice so they can be what others see. The mama covers for him by paying bills, supporting his whimsical ideas and raising his “totos” and when he finally comes round well, if ever, she’s just plain tired of the whole charade.
• The misconception. You see God instituted that man shall toil for self and family so just where do we get the idea that it’s going to be easy? The woman shall be the help and man also got the good bit, that he would lead the mama.

Alright with the advent of empowerment, women’s rights have been highlighted but just what is the plight of men? Men don’t speak out about issues so we (maybe wrongfully) assume they have none? Women are the fairer gender and where men have the chest hairs to put forward(pun intended) women may need that extra hand. No I don’t mean affirmative action, I mean bringing to light issues such as domestic violence(against women), rape and FGM for example.

What say you?

 

MY TWIECES

Yes, it’s a word. My word for my twin nieces; Never mind that I am in no familial way related to their mama. More complex? Alright. Think of someone you know who you cannot absolutely, totally and completely do without in your life. Not your significant other either. A friend who is truly closer than a brother? Now we’re getting warm. That is the relationship between my twieces’ mother and myself.

The angels in question are two adorable girls who hit the one year milestone on 19^th July 2011(yes this is a true story) and who long before that date had firmly established their place in my heart and those of their other “aunties”(I use this term very loosely).

Their names are testament to the wisdom of their lovely mother: Pendo and Nuru. With names like that, who wouldn’t find them adorable? And they are. They’ve already taken up their positions on the temperament wheel and aren’t afraid “kujitokeleza”(show their true colours) when the situation calls for it. Just thinking about them gives me a warm feeling.

Pendo is the feistier of the duo, she tells you; you rarely tell her. Nuru will also make her presence known but more by being there as opposed to vocally like her sister, much like her name. The girls will definitely be talkers. They are surrounded by people who want for them all the love, security, joy, excitement, wisdom, favor, peace and success they can access.

I’m sure by now you’re wondering why I’m waxing sentimental about babies you barely know. Well, they have a story. Like many of us who walk the streets with our power suits, taut faces and laptop-bags, there’s more to the picture than meets the eye. These adorable totos almost never saw the light (no pun intended Nuru). This is where Mama Pendo and Nuru(aka Mama Twins) comes in. She is one of the strongest young ladies I know. When I say young I mean not yet at the point where she would normally be having two children and a all that comes along with.  

However this remarkable girl loved, lost and found the most amazing new love of all, that of the two cuties whose mother she proudly is. With the babies’ biological male parent out of the picture, surviving on an intern’s allowance and only months to graduation, Mama Twins braved society’s glare and moved in with Gramp- and Gram- Twins and began a journey that has been and still is a many-splendored thing. They’ve been through it all: financial struggles, emotional warfare running the gamut from anger to joy through pain and back again, physical strain and injury scares but have never lost faith in God and his power to bring them through it all. The amazing bit is that my twieces found a way for their Mama to sieve out her real friends from the hangers on and everything in between. Also those that stayed true have been brought together in a way they never would have before as in their own way each gave of time, heart and whatever resource in standing with Mama Twins. Moments shared in trips to visit the beautiful new family and prayer circles over every single issue have definitely created a bond that is sure to last. Pendo and Nuru have created a family larger than they may ever know and they are yet to meet and get to know them all.

We may know of or know about someone who’s been through the motions and is still coming at life both guns blazing like Mama, Pendo and Nuru. And if you do, I hope you recognize the strength, beauty, faith and courage that is unique to them simply by virtue of the fact that they and their families are healthy, strong and very alive. Having a child is difficult, that is the reality. And that is with both parents. Now imagine going it alone and with not one, but two totos. It’s almost nothing short of miraculous. Well since it’s the baby girls’ one year anniversary:

Here’s to You, now and always!

 

Of many worlds

Type. Type. Then that annoying red line appears under my British-spelt words. What? That is correct. And it is. But my word processor is set to American English. 

So I change it. And type…type…type. Then that horrid red line again. What? That word is correct. And it is. It’s an American spelling. But I am now using British type setting. Not to mention our education system also styled after the UK and you can see my dilemma.

So I change it back to American. And keep typing till the very end and then proofread with eagle eyes. O the bother!

I love tea. I am addicted to tea and must have my minimum three cups(make that mugs with a capital M) every day. Morning, afternoon, evening and before bedtime…did I say three? Oops! Apparently tea-drinking is very Brit. Quite the capital non-alcoholic beverage. It used to be coffee for me(strong and black thank you), the all-American favorite, ’till I switched and could not really understand why. It was simple natural progression. I think.

When I dress, from the fashion rags to fashion columns in the dailies, I can place myself in the American style casual-smart section. When I was younger I loved plaids, tartans and tweeds. Catch me dead today in anything plaid unless it’s burberry(ahem, or barberry, by that Kenyan; you know- the one that looks like the real one but isn’t?). And you guessed right I shifted from Brit dressing to American style get-up.

When I want to buy anything, I must bargain unless I am in a retail chain store and even then I know when the ‘sales’ are on. I make it a point to know where to get the same items for way less from anything from vegetables to shoes and everything in between. ‘Nyama choma’ and arguing over politics are mandatory for me to take my place among my brethren, the Kenyans.

When my aunt, uncles and cousins come a-knocking, I better switch to the tongue that my mother was raised speaking(Isn’t it ironic how we say our ‘Mother-tongue’ yet in Kenya the child is supposed to take on the Father’s birth language?), before I am considered a “snub-nosed-city-girl” by The Family.

Kiswahili/Sheng mixed with English is the only way to make yourself understood: period. “Si i’m sure you jua what i’m semaing? ” To be able to board and depart from the infamous “mathrees” and eat cheap but filling meals at the local food kiosk, my tongue would be out of place without a smattering of Kiswahili peppered with the right amount of sheng; depending on the service provider. ‘Swa-sheng’ also gets you in with the cashier most places from the mpesa stall to the kiosk in the housing estate and some of the best jokes aka ‘mchongoano’ are expressed this way.

Oh and did I mention the two years or so after high school I spent drilling punctuations and pronunciations in French into my young brain? Parents with a vision, who take their darlings to foreign language specialists to help them ‘secure’ that lucrative six+-figure UN post in T+n years. This section includes the kids sent to schools that are easily recognized by one word, you know the ones, not like others which had to have nicknames so you don’t have to say St. Francis of the Holy Tri-une blah…blah…blah.

From well-meaning parents to the television shows to the silver screen, literature and now the advent of the all-encompassing social media; I am yet to know who or what I truly stem from. You see I’m Kenyan by birth and my tribe is pre-detrmined by my father’s origins, but I watch predominantly American shows, drink tea and write like a Briton, watch local shows and interact with fellow Kenyans who speak and act like both Brits, Americans, Nigerians and Kenyans(sometimes not very well i’m afraid), transact in English and Kiswahili, read and hear a smattering of French and now I’m learning to speak social. Yes social; the online lingo that connects you to your Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Doodle, Netlog and all other social network buddies.

Who am I? I’m a child of many worlds

 

 

RIP Acapella

Today I saw a fellow presser post a song by the Acapella company and it brought back fond memories of my interactions with this amazing genre of music. I remember groups like the Acapella Vocal Band (AVB) and The Acapella Company, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, All4One, Take6. Closer home we had Pentharmony, Voices In the Light, Masters’ Voices, Votaries and all the other little known high-school and campus groups that never made it past their school years.

A capella music is soulful, soothing, expressly moving and allows you to know exactly how an artist’s vocals sound because there is no use of musical instrument other than the vocal chords of the performer. I love it because it separates the real singers from the wanna-be’s. Even on albums by celebrated artists, there would still be an intro or outro with just vocals paying tribute to one of the most instruments of the trade: voice.

I write this sadly because I can hardly call our artists of today “singers”. What with the advent  of auto-tune and all other forms of digital manipulation so the music can sound just so. It breaks my heart to see young and old alike idolizing people who cannot hold a proper note simply because they possess a certain sphere of influence either through their lifestyle or poorly put-together popular “song”. I appreciate a dance tune just as much as anyone who is so inclined but I prefer real music, vocals that have been worked on through sheer practice and patience and which carry a lasting message.

I guess a capella has now been replaced by the innumerable live bands that are mushrooming all over the country and I will salute them for doing their best to revive real music, albeit accompanied by instruments other than voice. They do give a refreshing break from the clanging noise that is the “music” of our generation.

If there are any a capella bands still out there, please show yourselves? As for the existing bands that have the ability to incorporate it into your acts, please do?

Bye Bye A capella! For Now…

 

LEADING OR BLEEDING?

 

Servant Leadership

 

For so long I have agonized over this question. First off, here in Kenya, for the longest time, politics and religion were the mainstay of current affairs or news. We ate, drank, argued over and even sadly so, fought over the same issues for the longest time. Granted, there’s still too much politics everywhere from parliament to the boardroom to the pulpit, yes, the pulpit. But our scope of who and what leaders are had narrowed so much so we forgot to recognize true leadership in our everyday interactions.

A leader via the free dictionary is ‘one who is in charge or in command of others’. Google search says ‘a person followed by others’. Oxford shows that it is ‘the person who leads or commands a group, organization or country’.

These definitions make sense. My problem is that those who we call leaders today lack one or all of these qualities. Note: I haven’t began to talk about “good” leaders(those are a rare breed). Among those labeled “leader”, ranging from the august house to the pulpit, who is in charge? Who is ‘being followed by others’? Who ‘commands the country’? Now let’s not even get into where the followers are being led or what they are being commanded to do.

To bring it home, we recognize tribal leaders, political leaders, religious leaders, CEOs, family heads, student heads and it’s African to consider the rich to be leaders as well. It is only emergent generations that have broadened this scope to industry leaders in all disciplines with a special focus on artists or ‘creatives’. Poets, writers, newsmakers, celebrities, musicians, opinion leaders and the like have taken on the leadership title in recent years. It is still confusing for the older folk as they wonder how we can hang onto every word from a celebrated singer or media personality but what they don’t realize is that leadership is largely defined by what people think of you. The impression one leaves on a supposed ‘following’ is what makes them worthy of a following. We have had nominated, elected and appointed leaders thrust upon us in all areas of functionality but these people are not considered real leaders if they do not prove themselves worthy of the title.

What gets to me is that so many people holding ‘leadership’ positions forget that the role is synonymous with responsibility. There is no true leadership without accountability, integrity, honor and a sense of humanity. Which makes me wonder how we have church heads underpaying staff, condoning and perpetrating immorality (sexual or otherwise) and hampering individual and communal development. In the same vein, political leaders majoring on the minors and ‘minoring’ on the majors while the country’s economy hangs by the tailcoats, citizens starve, borders are insecure and children cannot access basic education. Then we have industry leaders fleecing the workforce while offering no employment security and opportunistically cutting costs at the expense of both laborer and end-consumer. Tribal heads seeking selfish interests and the rich only getting richer with barely a backward glance at the ever-increasing chasm between the majority of the populace and themselves. The whole picture reeks of poor leadership.

For they that are yet to figure it out and are already in ‘leadership’ positions, no one is born with the label “leader”. Yes, there are those that have natural tendencies that predispose them to ably take up positions but a title is simply that: a title. Leadership is proven. I don’t remember where I saw this, but you are not a man or woman of note simply by being born a man or woman; you must BECOME that notable person. This means it is a process and one that allows for mistakes but also demands that those wrongs are righted as soon as is possible because the expectations of a leader do not allow for laxity.

I appreciate all who rightfully take up leadership in whatever field but I implore you to remember the following:

1. Leaders move (guide) people from where they are to where they ought to be
2. Leaders are accountable to those that instituted them
3. Leaders are influence, not command, people to do the right thing
4. Leaders are servants, it’s not a right
5. Leaders are accessible to their followers
6. Leaders must be honorable (honesty and integrity)
7. Leaders must uphold justice
8. Leaders do not need titles of note-they just are

To Whom It May Concern:

 

 

Toonology

I am a slightly depressed cartoon lover. Yes, I said it. I love toons. Since I was a child and even when my outer inner adult tried to outgrow them, my outer child has held fast.

 

Cartoons transport one to a happy, hyperbolic and carefree fantasy world. We all need a place like this. Maybe your happy place is filled with food, music, flowers or anything that simply lifts you above the droll quality that life can sometimes take on? Then now you understand my fondness for cartoons.

 

However over recent years, cartoons have taken on a quality that belies the innumerable changes that have  become the norm in our generation. What really irks me is the adult content on some of the ‘cartoons’. I mean surely 7year olds and below need not be introduced to the birds and the bees as is the case with some new generation toons. The widespread use of “grown-up” language also rankles my chain. I want to be able to watch toons with my kids but as things are going I may start hunting for dvds of my old favourites and stock them up for later. Cartoons are supposed to make us laugh, in fact, double over in laughter, sing along to the catchy songs and want to buy all their merchandise(all the while pretending it’s for the niece/nephew/son/daughter but happy it is in our house). Cartoons remind me of friends because when I was little we would plan playtime around the various cartoon showtimes on television. As soon as it was 5pm, all toys would be unhanded and all children would run into the nearest neighbour’s house and scramble for the best vantage viewing point in front of the TV. Afterwards, we would all be herded out and into our various homes all the while singing refrains from our favourite show. Cartoons didn’t focus on who was the skinniest, prettiest or could kill new unimaginable creatures. True, there were those, but most were community-centred like the little blue guys(Smurfs, Gummy Bears and Ewoks). In the event that you wanted true heroes, never fear for in came Captain Planet, Transformers, Sheera and He-man, swooping in to save the day and invariably the planet The message was largely about giving and sharing and caring…ah…reminds me of the Care Bears. And those that didn’t have that message were downright silly like Tazmania, Road Runner and Wacky Races. You see toons were not meant to scare or alienate any child watching from any corner of the globe. Good always won over evil and the antics along the way were hilarious.

I tend to have many favourites of every single thing, from music to food and everything in between. So here are some of my all time fave toons in no random order: Tweety and Sylvester,  Road Runner, The (original) Flintstones, Pink Panther, Wacky Races, Muttley, Transfomers(original), Sheera, Smurfs, Ewoks, Sheep in the Big city, Popeye, The Addams Family, The three musketeers, Animaniacs, Pingu, Dora the Cat, Chip and Dale, Dinosaucers, Dexter’s Laboratory, the Powerpuff Girls, Darkwing Duck, Elmer Fudd, Ghostbusters. Ok this list is getting to long so to all toon lovers out there add your toons and keep loving ‘em, won’t you?