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The Self-fulfilled Lady


Someone somewhere has miraculously resurrected an almost extinct species of women: the Self Fulfilled Lady. That mysterious lady who goes wherever she wills as herself and only herself. The lady who does not raise tantrums just to get attention, but who won’t hesitate to shove some shoulders whenever her dignity is insulted. She is indeed a unique creature of creation. She won’t endeavor to harm her backbone by balancing her body on six inch hills on the ruggedly concrete jungle of Moi Avenue Street. She won’t suffocate her hips with tight gripping high-knee minis just to break the sweaty necks or blind the roving eyes of ordinary Nairobi hustlers, sufferers and perverts. She won’t walk around swaying her assets like a cypress tree wrestling with the wind on a chilly Monday morning just to flare up jealousy from the flock of casually dressed hardworking women who routinely manage and maintain the bulging economy of the CBD. Yet this lady will dress nicely. She will wear whatever she feels like wearing based on where she is going, who she is meeting and whatever clad is clean in her closet. She doesn’t have thirty pairs of shoes or 20 pairs of skirt suits but she will never lack something classy to wear when she steps out on a date, interview or walk in the city park.

This self-fulfilled lady won’t bulldoze people to get to the front of the camera; she is cool, calm and content like a serene waterhole in the hot shrub-manifested Savannah. Nonetheless, she will neither sink back in her seat nor shy away when the reporters’ questions and microphones come beckoning at her. She doesn’t torture her mind with unending information about the latest movies, fashion stalls, pizza joints, iPhone gadgets or alcohol brands in the market but neither is she ignorant of what’s happening around. She is the kind of lady that will chat freely with the makanga, gladly give you her phone digits if you ask nicely lakini ukijifanya bale ya unga ama eti wewe ndo ‘big kahuna’, huyu msupa atakusuka na kale kanamba ka yule mganga wa kutoka arusha. This lady is like an oasis in the desert that is modern day digital TV’s mentally-corrupted females. She is not one to measure her value based on fancy Filipino weaves, un-artistic tattoos and nose rings, ‘rangi ya thao’ bleached skin, glossy bloody-red lips or accentuated curvy hips. However, when she decides to, she will dress to kill. She is her own MVP.

The self-fulfilled lady is natural; not natural in that she wears raffia reeds or drinks milk straight from a goat’s udder or flaunts an unkempt dusty Afro, but in the sense that she is always herself. She is real. She is an undecorated walking package of peace; self-peace, self-worth, self-dignity, self-fulfilled girl. Maybe if you pray hard enough, the Most High may mercifully allow your path to cross with a member of this self-fulfilled species.


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Posted by on January 19, 2015 in Culture, random thoughts


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