I’m so tagged there was escaping this one. I hope I’m not late. Stone Cold Steve Austin, Val, Mama, Our Kid, Joyunspeakable, Random Observations, and all you other bloggers here we go.

I’m of mixed parentage. Half Central half Coast.

I joke and laugh a lot. In the right circumstances of course. Don’t be afraid to invite me to your high profile techo-babble cocktail party. I won’t laugh there. When it’s time to get serious I play the part to perfection.

I taste beverages for a living. Then market them based on the reports. Fibrous. Clean. Thick. Highfired. Underfired. Earthy. Brisk. Powdery. Aged. Smoky. True to grade, …... such like stuff. No it’s not a sweet and tasty job. Samples for tasting are not the same as what the consumer gets. They’re brewed differently and are often bitter so we don’t exactly sit and sip them lovingly. No we do not swallow. For those who think that my job can explain this, sorry to burst your bubble. The said beverages are not alcoholic.

The first time I ever seriously took the time to write it was politics on Kumekucha. That was when Kenya was hot. I'm still passionate about politics. But in a country where Simon Mbugua can beat PLO Lumumba, I'm no longer interested in elective politics. Elective is noisy and so it looks like that's what politics is all about. I'm intrigued by the more subtle aspects. Those that can push the country forward without so much hullabaloo.

I’m intrigued by the criminal mind. Not the petty muggers and pick pockets. Not even bank robbers. No. Guys like this one and this one. The ones that kill and dismember victims and stuff their body parts in suit cases. The ones that rape their dead victims or eat their hearts. No I will not try this at home but I’d like to know from them how their minds operate. I’d like to talk to one of those if they could promise not to kill me and make a shirt with my skin. At the height of the obsession, I watched countless programs about them and read countless copies of True Detective Magazines. I’ve read most books by Anne Rule and other numerous authors on the topic. I've read a collection of books on criminal psychology and profiling. At some point I started freaking out even at creaking doors. I’d start at the entry of a loved one into the room. It was time to slow down.

I’ve been car jacked once at gun point. That sound of a cocking gun did not leave me for a long time. I’ve since developed a few smalltime phobias. Fear of tailgaters. Fear of slowing down drivers. Our Kid please give us the scientific names for these if you may.

I come off as no nonsense and stand offish at first glance but nothing could be further from the truth. Of course I don’t like nonsense but standoffish I’m not. Maybe it looks so because I’m not good at small talk. I strongly believe in the positive power of silence.

I’m not very religious. I’m a Christian only as far as the naming, schooling and other formalities are concerned. I went to boarding school at an early age and it was prayers and recitals seemingly every other hour. Even at 6.00 am before porridge. It’s good to talk to the Lord but for me at that age that was too much of a good thing. I could hardly wait to complete school and give a break to all the prayers, recitals and Bible reading. So far it seems it was not just a break but a clean break. That was childhood but even now as an adult I don’t quite buy the beliefs and doctrines of organized religion anyway. Having said that, I have mad respect for other people and their religions of choice and I really don’t bother what deity one worships and how. In return, I also don’t expect to be judged.

I’m so laid back and carefree it hurts. For the unacquainted, it may look like I don’t get a good grasp of the bigness of things. But I do. As much as or maybe even more than the next person depending. I just don’t fret about stuff. I don’t know how to.

I’m very adventurous and sometimes wander into foreign markets asking what is this? How is it made? Give. I’ve discovered some great foods and others that leave me in fits of laughter wondering whether I got the recipe wrong or whether the guy was speaking Gujarati when he said it’s very tasty. To that end, my kitchen is a comedy of sorts. But the strange cooking is a once in a blue moon thing. My normal cooking style is mostly coastal.

I go home at every opportunity. Home upcountry to the farm. Friends often ask me why on earth I keep going to shags half the country away. Well, for one my mum lives there. The fresh air, the endless compound. And these cute calves that are born every other month. The ones my little nephew is always insisting we carry back to Mombasa. Auntie ni kadogo utakaweka kwa nyumba. Eish! The thought!

I’m very forthright. I say it as it is. It makes life so easy. I try to be sweet about it though.

I'm very loyal to my friends.

I recently stumbled on my high school farewell book and I’m shocked at what my friends remember me for. Tomboy. Cheeky. Mischievous. Punishments. Gosh. Me?!? Come on Kabarians! You got the wrong gal. But I think I'm a tomboy. But then sometimes I'm this lady. I don't know.

I don’t do suits and it has nothing to do with the Mombasa weather. It’s just me. I feel stiff and overdressed. I strut in casual chic mostly. Luckily my job does not require me to be in formal dressing.