Tears in the Ocean

I want to talk to someone

But none to talk to,

I want to cry

But no shoulder to lean on

Sometimes I take biers,

it carries me along so dearly,

When I'm drunk enough,

I speak to the ocean, and

My tears feed the ocean,

Like tributaries,

I sing all songs of victory,

My dance is hilarious yet dripping,

Bottle of bier is my microphone,

The vibe of unsung heroes,

I just swing on to the left, on to the right,

Mbele kidogo then bounce...

The joy I feel, no story can tell,

My tears in the ocean,

need no shoulder to lean on.

                                          

AM I A COACH OR MENTOR?

While cruising around town with my wife escorting the sun to the west, my phone rang. As I was looking around for it “tuta” (road humps), the shout from my wife took my leg straight to the break pedal but I continued searching for my phone as if nothing happened. “For God sake this is a car not a horse,” my wife complained. As we were passing over the road humps, she handed over the phone to me. “I will appreciate if you park first and continue with those non-stop calls,” she insisted. I pulled over and answered the phone after several missed calls.

After few minutes of my phone call conversation, I indicated right. She gave me a look that I used to get from my mom when victors were being served with soda and remained staring. I finished the conversation and passed her the phone then we took off. “Should we pass by ice cream kiosk?,”  I asked gently. She calmly looked at me but her face said more, “I would like to have vanilla with chocolate,” the face could tell. We drove for five minutes of silence but she suddenly broke the ice by asking, “Why did you lie to a person you were talking to over the phone few minutes ago? You can’t be a judge of your own case, there is conflict of interest, why did you advice her that she can be a mentor to a person that she will one day seat to assess his performance?” That moment I knew that the legal adrenaline was about to explode. I tried to compose a sentence but I couldn’t get a better way of saying it, so I stayed quiet for sometime then I asked, “What do you think?” We continued with that debate up to Ice cream kiosk, with few lines of “yes”and many of “I beg to differ.” This discussion like many other discussions took its natural death at the kiosk. Everybody’s thinking and interest shifted to ice cream ladies on what they did last time that they shouldn’t do this time.

After few days I went back and revisited my books and articles on Mentoring and Coaching, I managed to gather some facts hoping that my wife will also read and ask questions if need be.

 “Mentoring” The Oxford Dictionary (2003) defines a mentor as a trusted advisor, counsellor, guide, guru, teacher, tutor and coach. This recent definition gives us an insight into the multi-faceted nature of the role. Indeed, we need to distinguish between mentoring and these other related activities, teaching, counselling, coaching and tutoring to better understand the role. Mentoring, it has been argued, is the most effective way to transfer skills and knowledge quickly and inspire loyalty in new employees to co-operate in an organization (Robinson 2001). It is a word that is often used by academics, politicians, sports people, actors and other performers to describe the person they chose as a role model or someone who had significant early influence on their professional careers. Generally, it is a popular approach in education and in business.

 “Coaching” According to Grant (1999), coaching is a collaborative, solution-focused, result oriented and systematic process in which the coach facilitates the enhancement of work performance, life experience, self-directed learning and personal growth of the coache. Coaching is a partnership between a manager and an individual who reports directly to him or her in which the coach focuses on helping the coachee to optimize his or her potential. Coaching can help an organization create an environment of meaningful jobs and a positive atmosphere by eliminating barriers that prevent employees from reaching their full potential. It can empower employees to be more productive and improve morale (Franklin 2000).
There are three primary strategies for coaching:(1) Creation of a relationship between the coach and each individual as a part of the team;(2) Observation to uncover technical and skill deficiencies that need coaching; and(3) Demonstration of alternative ways to increase an individual's effectiveness (Ridlehuber 2001). Generally, these are the terms which can be used interchangeably by business leaders, someone may consider himself/herself as a coach while s/he was supposed to be a mentor at the first place. Mentoring is a long-term process based on mutual trust and respect. Coaching, on the other hand, is for a short period of time. Mentoring is more focused on creating an informal association between the mentor and mentee, whereas coaching follows a more structured and formal approach such as the A+ Coaching ladder.

LIFE OF THE PARTY

Life of the party, the week has rushed by so quickly and FINALLY, furahiday is here. Soon as the sun rises and the city awakes, the party animal in me starts to stir from its week long induced slumber.

As I go through the day, each tutorial, each 2hour long lecture seems like an eternity to me. Any talk about school might and most probably could bore me to death. All I’m thinking of, all i can imagine is me, on the dance floor, dancing like my life depends on it. Taking my rightful place at the throne.

It’s like with every pulse, my blood runs through my body, awakening the party freak in me… supplying it with all the needed nourishments… it’s all I can do to contain myself. Anxiously biding my time, when my freak can come out and conquer.

Last period, only a few minutes left till my bodily torture ends and I get t be the other me, the freaky me. Soon as the lecturer salutes us goodnight, my books and pen are already in my bag, my feet ready to bolt, only that the person next to me is blocking my way, and so I reel the beast in, reminding myself that I still have to behave, and keep the façade up.

Quick goodbyes and lingering hugs, I exchange with my girlfriends. Secretly knowing, they would have gasped scandalously and with amazement if they even had an inkling of knowledge of what I had planned for the night. Normal me says byebye, freaky me gives them a teasing hello.

As I walk back to my room, up on the second floor, in a building at the heart of the city, the buildings one by one, lock up, street lights turn on one after the other… and like so, my mind orderly ticks off all my plans for the night, one by one. Hair; ‘Check’, Nails; ‘Check,’ Shoes; ‘Check’, Dress; ‘Check’, Accessories; ‘Check’, Date; ‘Double Check’. Hehe, almost forgot, Cash; ‘Triple Check’

I reach my humble abode, as I walk up the stairs, a smile a deliciously spreads over my face, unknowingly, it seems the normal me that I woke up with suddenly took flight, and left a much needed space for the freaky me to take control of the night and make the world bow down to its mistress.

As the time etches closer, my actions become slower, my heart beat faster and every once in a while it misses a beat. The long awaited hour is only at arm’s length. Keep thinking of how the night could turn out. Hoping, praying, willing the stars to make this night memorable.

I look at my reflection on my mirror; big brown eyes look back at me, pupils dilated. I see my vein pump blood, pulse quickens with each passing moment. I add some finishing touches, added a little more lip-gloss, even though at the back of my mind I know it would be gone by the end of the night. I dab a bit more perfume on my neck. I wouldn’t want to be the smelly chick at the club.

My phone rings, `I’m here’, put on my dancing shoes, tonight I mean business. Check myself over one last time. Ass looks good enough to eat on. And off I go, as I descend down the stairs, I sneak silently a thief on one his haunts, so the matron won’t hear me. Like I would care.  I check my phone,00:15, I smile, because I know the night is as young as a ready virgin, ready to be taken and enjoyed.

Here at last, a dark overcrowded room, music so insanely loud, you could feel your hairs vibrate with the base of the speakers. And like a bulb, my mood switched on. Like a lioness on the haunt, slowly I criss cross around people, my destination the bar and ultimately the dance floor. For a minute I worried whether my date could handle what I had in store for the night, but (excuse my French) phuk it, I threw caution to the wind, he could go hard or he could go home. Freaky me don’t dance with caution, it’s more like I dance with abandon.

After one drink, I’m ready. I move towards the dance floor, with every step, I feel like I’m walking towards a long lost home, and I as the rightful queen ready to take my place at the.

And with that, I never leave; I dance to every song, bump to every beat, shake with every rhythm, my hips move with every lyric. I am a woman possessed, in the best way possible. Here, I feel free, to throw my hands up to the sky in exasperation. As my body moves and shakes with the music, here happiness overwhelms, so much so, that a laugh escapes me without my notice.

Here, I become that provocative girl, who only a fool wouldn’t want to dance with, I ooze of sexuality, as my waist enticingly moves side to side, gyrating like a snake on mesmerized by the tunes of the flute.

I can feel his hot breath on my neck, his shoulders on my back his hands on my waist, trying to steady my movement but at the same time, letting me have my way. He leads I follow, and he follows when I lead. Whether or not he’s keeping up it doesn’t matter, because in the end, the music is what controls me.

And as fast as a star shooting across the sky, the night ebbs it way into day. The hours rush by too soon. The once inky dark sky clears out slowly but surely, letting me know its time to bring the freak in and say goodbye to my precious thrown the dance floor.

As I climb onto my bed, a sigh escapes, and smile creeps over at the edge of my mouth, colorful images of the night flash through my eyes on constant replay, and my ears ring with the distant sounds of  the music. My phone lights up, a text: “it was fun! Ryt?” my smile spreads across my face, if he only knew how much!!! And like that sleep engulfs me.