Of Beauty and a Smile

OK - I'll admit it: SA isn't half bad (looks like I have a Jerkyll & Hyde thing going on with this place). It can sort of grow on you.

To start off with, the country is beautiful! Whereas in Nairobi we seem to be climbing over each other to cut down trees and replace them with unsightly high-rises; be it outside City Hall or within Karura forest. Johannesburg, which is argued by some to be the largest urban man-made forest in the world, is breathtaking in its scenic beauty. The greenery is accentuated by the well though out architecture as well as the gentle rise & fall of the land giving way to breathtaking views. Whereas Nairobi folds within itself at about 700 square kilometers like an old woman trying to hold all her five cats within her tight embrace for warmth while all the time coughing up a storm and turning her back to the night's cold, Johannesburg stretches itself wide, like a prepubescent lad full of energy and purpose, as though yawning to all its extent at about 1,600 square kilometers (if google is to be believed) and with ample space and good planning, comes to good looking living anyway you look at it.

What Nairobi lacks in ambiance, it more than makes up for through the abundance of friendly people. We manage to shove around each other in that tiny town, while always having a story and a smile for the stranger. I know Niarobians don't believe this, but it's true. I had some business in Nairobi CBD in mid-July, which was my first trip back to Kenya this year, and I was almost taken aback by the number of security guards outside buildings chiding me in a friendly way seeking to get a smile out of me (perhaps it's my perspective that's changed .. I think I used to find them annoying). There was the wealth of Uber guys I exchanged so many stories with, it was like meeting long-lost classmates. There were the long-lost classmates met unexpectedly in serious meetings. There were the women in the market who would announce triple the sale price to make you feel you've reached a good bargain when you managed to haggle it down to half the stated amount. What can I tell you - all this is priceless!

So there you have it - experience of beauty both in & out.

Of Colour and Rage

See that post down below? Scratch that! It was writted by a starry eyed girl who believed in the good in humanity and in brotherly love. I since got better wine!

This place is rough. Unfriendly. Cold. Let me take you by the hand and gently position your feet into my (beautiful, new tan high-heeled) shoes. Walk with me:

It's Black

This is the most obvious one. After being in SA for some time, I noticed a pattern. Most cashiers in supermarkets & such like places are black women (look up Trevor Noah on what I go through). I've always been friendly & jolly with my "Hellos" and "Could you say that in English please?" (Je ne parles pas Zulu) always accompanied by a smile. Interestingly, all the African languages here are Bantu and are apparently such that they can be understood across the board (like what Iimagine the Luyha sub-dialects must be to each other (in fact there's a language here that sounds distinctly Luhya). As a Bantu, I find the concept strange and have yet to hear a full sentence that makes sense to me, but apparently one speaks in language X and the other responds in language Y and all is well with the world.

Why this is important is that wherever I go, I'm spoken to in some language that I don't understand by everyone who's black on account of my skin colour. That's not the problem. The problem is that when you respond in English, you single yourself out as 'wale watu wa bara' (African niggers) who've come to take their jobs. The uniformity of the seeming hatred is amazing. It is unforgiving & unyielding. You are the enemy. Period. Given a chance, I'd like to engage one of these in a conversation on why it's ok for white foreigners to come in and take their jobs but not black Africans. What the hell? Of course I've never tried, because they look like they could carry machetes under those ample skirts. It just looks to me like misguided racism. Because don't be fooled; racism is what it is.

It's White

Then there are the whites. My God, it's like their classmates were shot in class for doing anything that wasn't strictly in accordance with the rules. And through a systematic Pavlov type training, they realized that all things that don't fit within the lines must be pulverized. You judge these situations for yourself:

The roads here are very orderly. When I first came, the office had some guy explain to we ex-patriates what to expect on the road in SA. They said that South Africa as a populace is very angry and we should avoid road confrontations wherever arising. They said that their matatus (here called taxis (and yes the normal taxis are also called taxis. No I don't know why they use the same name and I guess the differentiation is in conversation)) drive like crazy and we should give them as much space as possible. When I finally got out onto the road, I wished them a single day at the Globe Cinema Round-a-bout in Nairobi. They don't have a clue on how to spell chaos. Anyhoo, their roads are super orderly. Lights (termed robots (... I know)) are followed. Round-a-bouts (termed circles (at least with this one you can see where they were coming from)) are but small bumps on the road in a circular shape. And their stop signs & speed limits and all these are followed. It took me a minute to get used to it, but I did get with the flow. Driving here is actually relaxing; you don't accelerate to be the 3rd car after the light turns red. Amber means stop.

Anyway, I'd been in Nairobi during the Christmas break, and I guess I lost some of these manners. Today while driving (while listening to some particularly aggressive music - I blame the music) I cut someone off in traffic. Let me just paint it for you: I needed to switch lanes or miss my turning. Completely my fault: I had come speeding on the wrong lane and had only started looking for an in when almost too late (you Nairobi drivers wouldn't understand). So anyway I get into the guys lane. Immediately the guy goes berserk! They don't have tint here (don't know why) so I'm watching the (white) guy all but pull his hair out by the roots. At some point while the lights were red, I honestly thought the guy would get out of his car & come slap me. After wa start moving and I see the guy is still so very vexed, I move aside and let the guy pass me by. He doesn't expect that. You can tell he's happy to be ahead, but  I think he wanted to do so on his own terms that may have involved bashing my car in.

Take a chill pill. It's never that serious. You'll get ulcers. Eish!

If I have the space, I'll quickly tell you of another incident that happened today. Yes I've had a colourful day (and that's not an expression to throw about loosely here .. but that's the story for another day). I'm house hunting. I was to see an apartment today but the agent wasn't available to show it to me. So we agreed that she'd leave the key and I would go pick it up to view the place and return the key once done. Straight forward enough no? No. I get to the place (which just so happens to be in the same complex as where I'm presently staying) and ask for the key. I'm given a song and dance about the person who has the key not being available. So I tell them to call me when it's all sorted. So after 15 minutes or so, I get a summons to the security office. I wonder at this, but figure "mwenye haja aende choo" (let the mountian go to Mohamed). So I find a tall (white) guy standing akimbo and glaring down at me as I saunter towards him. Part of my job involves loosening tense situations, so I throw out a disarming smile and greeting to which I get the barked response; "What's the problem?!" So I'm already at a loss; what problem? I've just come to pick keys to view an apartment as instructed by agency such and such. I explain this. Do you know the sound  a 4-year-old would make to immitate a police siren? He starts making that sound. I'm dumbfounded and can only stare at him, with my jaw probably on the floor. The guy is over 6 feet tall, older than me & dressed in a suit trying to sound like a siren. I swear he has hand gestures to match ... To cut a long story short, his concern (as so clearly articulated) turns out to be that the arrangement the agency made was that they would pick the key at 9am the next morning and there was nothing about this clandestine and probably treasonable attempt by some 3rd party to pick the key at 6 the evening before (this is where you roll your eyes). The situation is sorted by my calling the agency and their discussing the change of plans. Idiot tall adult accompanies me to the viewing with the net effect that I didn't like the house.

Yeah Yeah Yeah!

Of New Beginnings and New Beginnings

I've come to this space ... and I'll admit it's a tad uncomfortable. It's like visiting a house you once lived in many years before .. where the floor boards now creek a little too loudly for comfort and something scurries off away in the corner. You want to peek around but are concerned about getting dust all over yourself ... So as I bring out a mop and a bucket, let me tell you a tale.

I've moved. From Kenya to S.A. with love. I'm in Johannesburg (can't quite bring myself to call it Jozi ... makes me feel like I'm trying to sound hip!) I've been here for little less than a month, and am quite frankly enjoy it. To be fair, I haven't seen too much of it, but enjoying it, I still am.

The most captivating thing so far about the place must be the people. Every day I meet someone new who tells me something that makes me wonder .. Let me take you through a couple encounters & I'll let you judge for yourself.

LADY 1

I'm at work, seated at my desk, typing away and basically minding my own business. Three workmates come by; 2 guys I know accompanied by a lady I haven't met. They're engaged in animated conversation so I just carry on earning my bread & butter. At some point the lady turns to me, gives me the once over and asks the boys; "Who's this?". She's not what one would describe as soft spoken, so much as the boys turn away, scandalized by the impolite form the query has taken and not sure what to do, I'm also unable to pretend that I haven't heard her. I urn and look t her. When she realizes that she won't get any response from the boys, she turns to me (.. in not too friendly a way, I might add) and asks, "So who are you?". 

I laugh. I can't help it but burst into laughter. The hilarity of the scene is more than I can take. And over the next 30 minutes, she and I engage in animated conversation, where the only personal details we leave out about ourselves are our birth certificate numbers! The boys don't get it. We feel them questioning "what just happened here?". That's Johannesburg..

GUY 1

On my very 1st day while still scared of the big-bad-world with its xenophobic fame, I wonder into a take-out store for a meal and am just stumped at the sheer volume of options. It's one of those outlets where you create your own meal by choosing the different ingredients that would go into making it while noting that 3 pieces of beetroot will cost you 2 rand to the power of 2x (and I mean, if I wanted to make my own meal I'd have just done that at home!). A cleaner guy comes out ... all smiles and making no effort to hide the fact that he's flirting with me. He's very polite; abandons his duties to help me figure out what to eat and I thankfully go with his meal suggestion. He then engages me in idle but conversational chit chat until my meal is ready and bids me farewell.Very homly but very friendly. If you wonder why this guy makes it into this piece, just think of the last conversation you had with a cleaner in Kenya and now imagine them trying to dart you. Yeah. Jo'burg.

GROUP 1

Minding my own business while at a shopping mall, I'm in the clothes section trying to pick out something nice for my friend's daughter. I've picked out what must be 13 things that she would probably love and am in the process of returning the excesses (to narrow them down to 2) when I hear what sounds almost like a falsetto war cry .. "MA'AM! MA'AM! It's wet!" Startled out of my reverie, I realize that it's me she's addressing. I take a moment to look around getting my bearings and that's when I see that she's mopping the floor. I was about to step onto a section that she had already cleaned. The only thing more fierce than a black South African woman mopping a floor is a mother Cheetah taking care of her cub. Eish! (as they would say it here). And I've seen it in the office too ... It's like a whole reason, on it's own, to motivate for gun control. That woman wouldn't blink as she shot you for stepping on her pristine floors! Jozi truly!

When all is said & done,

I think I could get used to this place.

Of Neighbours & Babies

Now, I need somewhere to air this and you guys fit the bill. What's my problem you wonder? My neighbour.

Ok .. here's what gives. I've had this neighbour for more than 2 year .. lives 2 doors down. He's a quiet sort and doesn't seem to have too much going on in his life. He lives in a 2 bed roomed house and I've idly wondered what he does with the tonnes of space since, to the best of my knowledge, he lives alone. Yes he does get guests who'll come and live but there aren't really any permanent fixtures. Well that was true until about a month ago. Out of the blue I start hearing an infant wailing. And an infant indeed - day's old. And out of the woodwork comes a house-help who washes said baby's clothes and hangs them all over. My issue? I've never seen a woman there - whether pregnant or fresh out of childbirth. Who is the baby's mother? Where did the baby come from? What's going on?

I'm not a terribly curious neighbour but this is something that has me bothered. Then I noticed that the kid had gone for about 2 weeks or so but is back today. I mean we always hear of strange things going on. Bwire (the Al Shabaab guy) had neighbours who said he was quiet & kept to himself ... There may be a perfectly good explanation, but then again, maybe not ... I've never seen the child, which I consider normal bearing in mind their tender age, but a mother somewhere? Come on! Should I ask/tell someone? If so, who?

Poor Show Standard Newspaper

I've always thought that the Standard Newspaper was a paper of questionable quality & not one favoured by most. I mean why else when asking for a paper from a street vendor do they automatically reach for the Nation unless you tell them otherwise?

As if in a bid to prove the poor quality of the paper, the editors have outdone themselves today. I've reached for a copy of the Standard today (as someone else was reading the Nation) and on the frigging first page there's an error. Look at the top left hand corner where it declares that the nation is eagerly awaiting KCPE results. It's KCSE. The Primary results were out sometime back leading to teachers being beaten by unhappy parents, etc.

I shrugged in disgust and turned to the 2nd page. There's a pictorial on the second page that has something to do with a church. So I read and was surprised to see 2 mentions of 'Freemansions' before this was corrected on the third attempt to 'Freemasons'.

I threw the paper aside and turned to the reliable 'Nation'!!! A paper should at the very least be proof read!

Of Kids and Suicide

I've had so much to write about in the past 6 months but life kept getting in the way. My apologies and let's see if we (read I) can't do better in 2012.

Anyhoo, let's start the new year, not by exchanging views on the Nancy Baraza fiasco but by pondering the sanctity of life. Everywhere I turn, I hear the story of primary school kids killing themselves. There are the 2 who chose to leave us as a result of their performance in KCPE and I swear I heard on news the other day the story of a boy who killed himself because his father refused to buy him new school shoes.

Pause. Ponder. My class 8 results were important to me. Really they were. But I must say they weren't that important. I hoped to do well but I also enjoyed playing shake with the other neighbourhood kids. What happened to the young? Remember the girl who killed herself coz her folks wouldn't let her go watch Shaggy in concert?

Where did society take that wrong turn?

Of harshness and e-shouts

So apparently I'm harsh. There's a general consensus on that from all my pals. I'm dubbed 'Digzer the Harsh'. I figure that when a unanimous view is held amongst so many people, there must be pause to think ... Of course they must be wrong. What, me? I'm adorable. And funny. And great company!

Anyhoo, I was shouted down on email and don't really know how to react. When we're having a face to face discussion and voices are raised, I can ask you to relax and lower your tone. WHEN THE SHOUT COMES OUT LIKE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!??
!!!!!

??

.. it's a little more difficult to react. Does one write back and ask for the release of the shift key? Does one write back in red bold caps? Is it even proper to get e-offended?

Hmm ... Have a lower case day!

Of Incidents & Brakes

So the other day I was driving happily on my way to work with not a care in the world. In fact, traffic was generally light and I was sure I was going to have a good day. I came to an intersection where I had the right of way and noticed the only car that may have tried to cross my path stop to wait for me to go by. I stepped on the gas to get to my destination faster and move out of the waiting car's way.

Someone once told me that when driving in Nairobi, assume that everyone else on the road is mad. I think that not even that assumption would have helped me on that day. From nowhere, a mat decides to overtake the waiting car and make a mad dash for the other side.

I couldn't beleive it. "You can't do that!" I remember screaming in my head. I was shocked. The space was too small for the mat to make it. I slammed down on my brakes... and sat watching helplessly as my car refused to stop.

I can't begin to explain the numerous thoughts that ran through my mind. The only thing that my brain registered was fear. Fear and the question why. Why the hell would the car refuse to stop!?

Not to make more of the story than it actually was, my car's bumper & front side 'kissed' the nissan's back side and we exchanged paint. The mat stopped a little distance away and my car also stopped 15cm away. I checked out the damage and figured I'd live. In reality, I was just too shaken to engage in an argument about who was at fault so I waved the mat off, everyone to take care of their own damage.

In retrospect, this incident was good as it brought out the fact that my car had a problem I hadn't previoously noticed. As food for thought, think twice next time you're about to jump in front of a car while crossing the street or strain to cut another car off on the assumption that it has brakes. You might just end up as surprised as the mat driver!

RIP Moshi & Guards

So I read in yesterday's paper about Denis Omondi whose plan to party with friends ended tragically with his death. On being denied entry to the club which was full, they sought to gain access through an alternative route where they found a small window open. He creeped through, was met by the building's askaris who descended upon him with blows & kicks. His friends were seperated from him but could tell he was in trouble as he was lying motionless in a pool of blood. Their request to the guards to let them take Denis to hospital fell on deaf ears as the guards insisted that they had to wait for the police. It was about 3 hours later that they were allowed to leave with him (as the police went about arresting the guards) and take him to hospital. He died a week later at Nairobi Hospital.

Rewind to a few days ago when I heard Atwoli championing for the rights of guards to be armed. I'm sorry ... Are we talking about the same people? Have we not all had strange brushes with askaris? Should we not all be shouting in solidarity (forever) against the very notion that these guys should be armed? Haven't enough people suffered?

Have a safe day.

Thika Road Expansion Project = Hell!!!

These road works which have been going on since the dinosaurs died (or were beamed to a parallel universe where they have great intellectual discourse) is driving me crazy! First there's the dust. I feel like a miner. Can I get workmen's compensation due to the dust inhalation? (apparently, the tax payer's money that was to be spent on the Ocampo 6 was to be considered under this very broad bracket). It get's so bad that if you stand in one spot for 15 minutes the dust they wash off you would be enough to germinate a seed in!

Then there's the traffic. Jana I was caught up in the black hole previously known as Forest Road for over an hour! And of course, Kenyans being Kenyans had figured out a way of creating 5 lanes that were miraculously meant to funnel into 1! And given that situation, everybody's an expert! "We nani! Rudi nyuma ndiyo tuingie!", "Si usonge mbele? Hii nafasi yote umewachia nani?!" "Kama hujui kuendesha si ungewathca gari home?!"

Then the roads change daily. That you've used one route in the morning is no surety that it will be there in the afternoon. It won't just be closed, it will have been dug out by those big machines. It will be up to you to figure out how to go where it is you were going, even taking a 10km detour to find yourself on the other end of the crater!

And pedestrians are not spared either. Other than the fact that you risk life and limb walking along for lack of a side walk of any kind to speak of, there are other hazards. My friend spent the night at her sister's place in Kasarani. In the morning when she left, she couldn't find a bus stop!

Have an orderly day won't you!!

Of Billboards & a Boob

So the other day on my way home, I was looking at the scenery from my window when I looked up. Lo and behold i realised that I was staring at a breast. Yes you read right; a boob!

It's a billboard advertising a mattress that's meant to be extra comfortable. It sports a couple in bed and the chick (who just so happens to be nearer the camera) has let the sheets slip to slightly above her waist (presumably due to the intensity of the comfort) and there is her boob for all to see. Yes it is clad but it's a breast all the same.

I guess that's progress Kenyan style!

Of Roads and Insight

I think being a Kenyan is very entertaining. Minding my own business listening to the radio on my way to work this morning, I started laughing so hard that other road users were puzzled. And no it was Kingangi & Maina. It was the news.

To give this news segment some background: you all know about the numerous road expansion projects that are underway in the country. You've probably also heard the way a bunch of investor/landowners on Mombasa Road, lead by the Standard Group, are crying foul claiming that the proposed expansion of the road into their property was nothing more than a ploy to frustrate them reading mischief from the government. Their complaint may sound a little far fetched but consider the amounts of money they must have sank into their investments, only for the government to belatedly come and say "nice building and all, but we want that land"!

Anyhoo, what had me in stitches was the comment by Orengo the Lands Mininster. Apparently, according to him, there was indeed some mischief because these guys own large pieces of land and yet chose to construct on the very edge that's nearest the road! According to him, they were the authors of their own misfortune and in fact had been trying to set up the government to look bad.

I hope that one day when the earth has been reduced to smitherins by annoyed Mother Nature and all of humanity wiped out, the intelligent life form that will scavage through the reckage will not come upon that pearl of wisdom and gauge the human intelligence therefrom.

Have a sharp day!!!

The Unstoppable Rush

I'm on leave (yeah don't you wish you were me) so I spent my evening watching the movie "Unstopabble". I must say that it's been a mighty long time since I watched a movie that kept me on the edge of my seat. It's just something else!

Speaking in very broad terms, the movie's about a runnaway train loaded with diesel and highly flamable chemicals that hurtles forth at great speed. The question on everyone's mind is how to stop it and avert the iminent disaster. Enter (the ever good looking) Denzel & Chris Pine; two guys who happen to be there at the right time with an idea. Can it possibly work?

Unfortunately, there is a downside. For all the great acting, there are some characters who should never have been given their parts. Either that or there were some flaws in the script. The perfect example is the kid playing Pine's son. He shows absolutely zero emotion throughout the whole movie save for the absolute end. He is not surprised that his dad's on tele, doesn't wonder why there's a mad rush, isn't startled by the speeding train ... Something wrong here? Why not just used a cardboard cut out? Then there are Denzel's daughters. Instead of being concerned about their dad's well being, they seem to be cheering him to pull stunts that no man of his age (or yours) can pull. Not normal.

Other than that, it's a really great film that I would encourage all to see.

Of Seeing and the Point

So the good news is I have 20:20 vision. My eyes are great! The bad news is I have great eyes with 20:20 vision. Indulge me as I explain:

I recently noticed that I have great trouble driving at night. The glares from the other cars going in the opposite direction make me slow down to a crawl as I wait for them to pass. (And if you’re the wise guy who drives with full lights, I do hope that you make enough money to buy your own private island where that’s OK …) I figured that short of tinting my windshield, which I learnt was against the law, I have the option of getting spects that would not only sort out the lights by night they’d also help me deal with the sun by day. Great! I happily went to the optician who told me that they had just what I was looking for, complete with the local or imported variety depending on the depth of my pocket.

“Oh, I have insurance,” I said in a very self assured tone. I thank God that I have very few medical needs so I don’t often make use of my employer’s medical cover.

“You do?” the attendant asked seeming a little concerned. “Who is your insurer?”

“Company X,” I say beginning to get bored with the conversation and eager to try on the exciting looking frames.

“Ah,” he says in a deflated tone.

“What’s the problem?” I ask, my interest reignited.

“Well, you see, X will only pay for the lenses if you have a prescription. We did the eye test and your eyes are fine, so you’d need to consider alternative means of footing the bill.” He explained. I could tell that this was an explanation he’d given out many times before.

What annoys me is the fact that if I keep driving as I am, I will either ruin my eyes (at which point the insurance will gladly step in) or cause a grisly accident costing the insurer so much more. Is that reasoning not flawed? Am I the only one that sees a problem?

So here I am forced to fork out money for what my employer has ideally already paid for. Great!

Have a fair January!

The Close of 2010

Belated season's greetings & wishing you the best in 2011.

I for one cannot tell you how happy I am to see the end of December. Explanation: my pal, a winter bunny, was around after having been out of the country for more than a decade. We took it upon ourselves to show her the Nairobi night life. Heh! Kenyans can really party! We did the bend-overs the Jazzes (Tuesday & Sunday) the Kidums (though he was a no show) and just about everything else save Monday Reggea as we did need a day of rest. I got home on many a 6am's and can now confidently say I'm too old for this shit (refer to one of the episodes of How I Met Your Mother - season 4).

My short term (and perhaps circumstantial) resolution for the new year is not to spend a shilling on alcohol in January ...

Tech Help

I have a problem. I'd joined KBW some time back and have noticed that we're no longer doing the ring surf thing anymore and there are these cool-ish badges that one's meant to put on their site. Question is, how is this done?

I've been to the www.kenyaunlimited.com site countless times but just can't seem to get it to work. I've tried copy-pasting the link as instructed but am clearly technologicaly challenged. Any help from the more techie savvy out there?

Cheers!

Of Dreams Best Not Caught

You know they say that your dreams are a form of window into your psyche that can really help you figure out what's going on in your life. Like if you dream of shoes that's a dream world metaphor for your love life, so if your dream shoes are stuck in mud, that's where your subconscious feels your love life stands. (See example here on interpretations)

I beg to differ. I have always had the strangest of dreams. Today I'm Rambo/Jack Bauer fighting off terrorists and bad guys and tomorrow my boss is giving me advice on a matter that has never come up. I mean, the other day I wasn't even in my dream. I was watching it in much the way you'd watch a movie. It was about vampires and I even had to snooze my alarm to find out what happens next. It would have been good material for a book though. If dreams are really meant to tell you stuff about yourself then I'm in trouble!

What are your dreams like?

Smurfs!!

Na si this has taken me way back!!!

Party for Books

I attended the above function yesterday and although I must say it wasn't what I initially had in mind (coz the dark bar with nyamchom servings was a far cry from the cozy pink poster), I think the idea is exceptional. I recently commented on a blog about the importance of cultivating a reading culture in children from an early age. Well truth be told, there are many who would like to but just don't have access to books. The books collected at the above drive were just the odd story books people had lying around their homes. Not text books or inspirational books but just stories to capture the young onnes imaginations.

I think it was a great idea and wish the young lady behind it all, great success in the campaign. You have my support 110%!!

Sluggish

I've already been through my quarter-life crises (emerging successfully at the other end) and I'm too young to be going through my mid-life crises so I will settle for a denominator of 3. I'm going through my third life crises. Food isn't as tasty, the colours aren't so bright and things just generally seem dull. I go to work everyday with reducing passion and even the thought of going to my local is tiring. There are a few flashes of excitement here and there and every once in a while somthing has me in stitches but it's not the usual me. If I were brighter then (oh the blissful ignorance of youth!) I would have kept a log of what I did to surmount the feeling of lethargy that comes with these crisi (? either that or crises'). As I am too lazy, I will not now manage the energy to keep a log for when the mid one hits.

Yeah well!

In a totally unrelated matter, here's an article I stumbled across online. Strange. Question is, how do you ensure your husband gets the choice parts?