The Dying (sometimes Lost) Art of Romantic Kissing

I feel like a shibukombe or the alangizi right as I try to convince myself that I believe the beautiful art of kissing is neglected by many especially the married.

Think back to the days when you and the love of your life (or of the moment) kissed; before you actually had sex – either for the first time ever or the first time for the two of you. Remember how exciting and passionate and raw it was? And how it could go on for hours?

Now compare that to your last kiss today or whenever the last was. Is the passion still there?

Although family members may sometimes kiss on the lips, a French Kiss almost always indicates a romantic relationship. A French kiss – a passionate romantic or sexual kiss in which one participant's tongue touches the other's tongue and usually enters his/her mouth – is often used by lovers to express their intimate feelings toward each other, whether in passing or as a prelude to sexual intercourse (as a part of foreplay) or during the frequent occurrences throughout actual intercourse.  French kissing – also called tongue kiss, pash, hooking up, mugging it up, making-out, necking, getting into, snog, slipping the tongue, popping tongue, sucking face, or deep kissing, getting off – stimulates the lips, tongue and mouth, which are all areas very sensitive to touch. It is considered by many to be both very pleasurable and highly intimate. Unlike other forms of "casual" kissing (such as brief kisses of greeting or friendship), episodes of French kissing – which in essence can also be called a passionate or loving kiss – are highly intimate affairs which will often be prolonged, intense, and passionate and, in a manner of speaking, symbolize a side of the physical love one has for the other.  Because of the intimacy associated with it, in many regions of the world tongue kissing in public is not acceptable to most, particularly for an extended time.

As a youngster, there were times when you were only offered the kiss and nothing more. Surely the kiss in that moment, with all the libido of a teen or young twenty-something guy, was heaven on earth. The imagination that accompanied the kissing meant you were engulfed in the aura of moment, with butterflies in the stomach and your mind floating in cloud nine. Seeing you were not getting “none of some”, you had to make do with second best and in fact second base. I am not sure a married man will make do with a kiss instead of the main course. So many married men even skip the kiss and just go to the sex.

Fast forward many years later and one simple fact about kissing is that after a few encounters, usually when people get married and after years of staying together,  this activity tends to just wear away or you don't work hard at it such that it becomes more of a ritual and even a chore than an art. It gets taken advantage of.

I think the art of kissing would wear out if it is not always part of the art of making love. The problem is that sometimes it has been used, mostly by us men, to 'unlock' a woman to access her cherry, and once its 'open sesame', the kissing is abandoned. Thing is, if it is used to wear down the womans 'Walls of Jericho', when it comes to marriage or long-term relationships, the resistance is not there and that use of the kiss is irrelevant and so it goes. For those who do not focus on the woman's loins alone when making love (or simply having sex for that matter) i.e. know that groping, fingering and kissing spice up making love. They therefore know that the art of kissing can never die because of changes and should not die.

To save the dying art of kissing, for the married like I, the secret is always peck her when you wake up, say bye, meet again etc. Then the actual kissing (snogs, puckers and the works) becomes sweeter when you are playing La Liga at night as it is not a chore! Some sweets, chocolates and the like just make it naughty but less repulsive if there is bad taste or odour in the mouth. Oral health helps too.

I end with some tips on basic French Kissing which one needs to get right before going on to experimenting and trying different styles and more advanced techniques.

1. Brush your teeth, get a good bath, nicely groomed and clean and fresh, before meeting the other person. There's nothing worse than kissing the rear end of a garbage truck.

2. Get into a comfortable position - you can't kiss if your back feels like it's gonna break. Suggestion - Sit side by side on a comfy sofa.

3. Hold your lover, firmly but gently - don't cause pain. Suggestion would be to hold the shoulders, the neck or gently on the side of the face, one side or both sides.

4. Move your faces closer. Don't bump noses. Suggestion would be the guy angle his face slightly so you don't bump noses.

5. Kiss gently, normal closed lips kissing, and close your eyes. Closing your eyes increases the sensations you feel, and also sets the mood.

6. Continue kissing gently. Get comfortable with simple closed lips, lip-to-lip kissing before going anywhere else.

7. If fine till here, tentatively, slowly and lightly draw your tongue across the other person's lips.

8. Chances are from here, if the other person lightly parts her lips, slowly explore the other person's tongue in a light licking motion.

9. The tongue has a very sensitive surface, which is why tongue to tongue is the essence of French kissing.

10. After you've tried lightly licking the other person's tongue, you can try sucking on it, wrestling with it ( see if you can hold it to the floor of her mouth ) and other things like that.

11. Explore the other areas of the mouth. Especially the roof of the mouth. Lightly lick, or tickle the area with your tongue.

12. Don't bite. Whatever you do, don't bite.

13. Don't swing your tongue round and round like a windmill. Explore lightly, don't drill your way through.

14. Breathe through your nose. Breathe through your nose. I say again, breathe through your nose.

15. Follow so far? You can lightly use your hands too, lightly rubbing the other person. Suggestions, along the waist, along the back, the arms, especially the inside of the arm, the neck, maybe running your fingers through her hair. Again, don't cause pain.

16. Continue kissing.

Viva the art of kissing.

I Miss Lusaka's Potholes: They Helped Me to Escape

It wasn't a secret that my car, which I had just bought from South Africa, wasn't cleared by Customs. My neighbour went a step further he notified the police, so I was always expecting their "courtesy call". I didn't have to wait long, and was confronted by a plain clothes policeman one evening as I was doing my weekend shopping at Kamwala. He seemed confident and convinced that what he was saying was nothing short of the absolute truth. He had "recognised" my number plate as supposedly being on Interpol's list of "hot cars" in Lusaka. Sensing danger, I made a hasty exit.

So as not to give away my real feelings, I sauntered to my flashy sport's car, snapping my fingers with false confidence and a not-so-contented frame of mind. Even in this state, I could not help but admire my shiny crimson coloured 1956 Porsche Spyder replica. It was a car in a million a car that did far more than merely please the eye, but also left many at a loss for words. Brand new as it was, I resolved that I would do anything to prevent it being impounded. 

Before I could get to the car, however, I noticed a police car sharply swerve into the road, it's tyres screeching and siren wailing. That is when I remembered that the plain clothes cop had a motorolla walkie-talkie in his breast pocket. There was no time to waste.

I leapt into my car and fumbled for the keys. Somehow, I managed to stab the right key into the ignition lock. Firing the engine, I grabbed the gear lever and slammed it into first. Releasing the clutch pedal suddenly, I floored the accelerator, and the wheels spun madly as I wrenched the steering wheel with all my might. The car took off like a runaway rocket, the engine roaring, smoke billowing and lights glaring. It skidded drunkenly, leaving black marks on the road as the tyres heeled mightily in a smoke producing, rubber burning squeal.

The car jolted as I insanely juggled with gear, wheel, clutch and gas pedal. In the process, much to my chagrin, the door on my side flew open. I had not clipped on my seat belt and was in great danger of falling out. With a shower of sparks, the door scraped the crash barrier on the edge of the road. I fought to close the door and had it not been for power steering, I would have been unable to drive with my free hand. Despite the ferocious speed at which I was moving, well-aligned pneumatic wheels and stabilizers meant I had excellent road holding capacity, and that gave me badly needed peace of mind. The engine responded favourably to my frantic efforts to drive away, and as I gradually eased into formula one mode, Chilumbulu Road became my own.

The car roared with a din that would have woken a deaf man from deep slumber there was no muffler on the exhaust. This, coupled with the fact that the cops were gaining ground, had begun to arouse interest from pedestrians and other motorists alike.

Soon, I came to the first set of potholes, harbingers of what was to follow. I slowed down as I tried to skirt one particular water filled hole. It was at that instant that the panda car bumped into mine. My adrenalin level rose sharply. I stepped on the accelerator and the car pulled away into another puddle filled pothole riddled section of the road. The policeman behind the wheel motioned me to stop. I ignored him and instead, stepped even harder onto the gas pedal. Despite the holes, I managed to inch away, pitching and rolling as I went. The police car, which had seen better days, was in the meantime rattling like a hammer mill. Suddenly, it stopped. Much later on, I learnt that it's front axle had broken, but at that moment, I dared not slow down to see what was happening.

My car is now safely tucked away in a shanty compund where it can't be found until I raise enough money to pay customs. When I heard that Chilumbulu Road, famous for it's vast and ubiquitous potholes, was being patched and resurfaced, I felt a little sad. It had saved my bacon, and I owed those potholes a lot.

~~~

(The above work of fiction won the first ever short-story competition in the Lusaka Lowdown Magazine and went on to be published in 4 countries including in New Zealand where it is still immortalised in this blogpost here.)

I Love Zambian Folk Music and Kalahari in Lusaka

I love partying at Kalahari in Lusaka. 

I have been made to love Kalahari by the sheer encouragement of Sheva my friend (Maybin Simukoko) though the fact that James Chamanyazi, a personal friend of mine courtesy of Kumphala on MUVI TV and also past connections, was also a factor. My first three sojourns to Kalahari came by way of Chris Mudenda asking me to meet him there or taking me there. Now am a permanent fixtures with a post-paid bill account arrangement and a reserved slot for parking.

Now I was wondering why I love Kalahari, a Club run by Kenyans and perfecting what made Mumana Pleasure Resort, Mauzu, Nkhuzweni, New Londe, Masiye, Zani Muone etc famous: Live Bands! Then I realised that it is because I love folk music. While most of you chaps were listening to Radio Mu, I was in the village listening to Radio 2 on SW and MW on Daddy's 2-Band radio. I have come to appreciate the original Zambian sounds of PK Chishala, Mulemena and later the Mulemena Boys, Serenje etc.

Times of Zambia says: "In folk music, the world acclaims Bob Dylan as emperor. Here the dictionary of Zambian folk is Yandikani Lungu, Lazarus Tembo and Emmanuel Mulemena. If Washen Zulu persists he will include himself on it."

Cue: Yandikani Lungu, *drums roll*

This is the main who subtly sung of chibuku. By the early eighties when I lived in Long Acres on Bird-Cage Walk (where The Millennium Village now stands) and sometimes spend weekends in Jack Compound, which is across the rail-line from John Howard) the Lusaka experience of Chibuku is that there was the City Council brewed Lusaka Beer and the Heinrich's Syndicate (a Lonrho owned firm) rival. I think there was also a Kafue beer I do not know who owned that. During those days, babatons (big traditional guitars) were the order of the day in tarvens and there was a song on radion by Yandikani Lungu song about One Chikopo Four Ngwee change I wonder if the price was 10 ngwee or 20. An uncle of mine used to refer to one size of the tin as an 'Upper Roll' something to do with the pre-independence elections but that needs more research.

So this Yandikani song does rounds at Kalahari and Shamaki has perfected it. I am yet to know all the lyrics but I always sing it on Saturdays and it goes like:

Tusunge ndalama
Tusunge ndalama
Tikalimile farmer zikolino

Nikagula motoka
Nikagula motoka
Mokwelako asikana zikolino

Oyenda onyada
Oyenda onyada
Avala suit ya manispalati

Awisi Tombi alemela
Awisi Tombi alemela
Lelo akamba chizungu
Tude ameya veli hape
Ai bayid talauzi
I just lozya mi kwendo
Talauzi is my saizi

ngilingili yalila
Ngilingili yalila
One chikopo
Four ngwee change

Kapa ka
Kapa ka

My Life as a Small-time Golfer

Who is winning the Ryder Cup this year? America this time or Europe continues dominating? Is the fact that Tiger is out going to favour Europe or Europe was gonna win anyway seeing this has happen with Tiger in the Team?

I know in Zambia we talk about football alot but I also happy that there is the occasional Wimbledon, the occasional Heaton vs Mayweather discussion and other sports. One thing for sure is that we are sports men or sportsmen or at least people that love sports alot. I decided to l0ok at golf seeing it is the gentleman's game and I rarely fantasise about the fairway when I twist and turn on the turf at Barclays Sports Complex playing football. I know cricket and tennis are the ultimate gentleman's game but a game whose name is sometimes argued to have come from the moniker "Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbiden", in short GOLF, sounds sexy.

What made me think was golf was two things this week, football personalities have of late been getting into other sports to try and divert attention away from football what with such sagas as Ronaldo's. First Calderon took advantage of the Spanish Euro win and Nadal's win to use the attention from tennis onto his Ronaldo pursuit instead of away from football. On the other hand SIR Alex Ferguson has urged his United team to take inspiration from Padraig Harrington's successful British Open defence as they look to repeat the heroics of last season. Granted he knows winning big competitions in successive years is "terribly difficult", Ferguson remains energised and enthused by the ability of top sports people to maintain their focus under extreme pressure. Using Golf, Fergie praised Sunderland supporter Harrington for the way he retained his title at Royal Birkdale - and challenged his players to show similar drive and ambition in the months ahead. He said "Harrington, however, was so cool and showed to me he had the bottle. When he needed to perform in the last six holes, he had four birdies. His second shot at the 17th, right on the pin... unbelievable. He thoroughly deserved the victory." On retaining the European Cup and chalking up a hat-trick of Premier League victories Ferguson said: "It can be done.

The second Golf moment this was, again related to Harrington's win, is when American players complained of the conditions at the British Open. This is how BBC Blogger Robbo Robson put it about those who were complaining of the conditions: "Yanks mostly, who bleated on about how nasty it is to have to play golf when it's windy and raining. Ah, bless! But just where do you think golf was invented? California perhaps where every day is the same day and the grass never changes and the bunkers are filled in with sand imported from the Outer Hebrides? No, it was invented in Scotland, that haven of climatic peace and serenity. Shut up or go home!" Robbo then ended "I can't wait for the Ryder Cup! All we need is a light breeze and the Americans will just hand it over while they put on their anoraks and hide in the clubhouse".

Golf and yours truly go way back. . . if 1998 is way back. But for a guy who spent along time in the village during my formative years and so never had a chance to go to trust schools or tag on Dad's spurs to a golf course, that is way back. I remember buying an almost complete golf set (3 woods, 2 putters, lots of irons with only about two clubs missing). We used to go to Chainama Golf Club to pick stray golf balls and then go play at the University of Zambia (UNZA). This was during the 8 month closure. I must admit it is a very tough game to play and the skill levels involved plus decision-making vis-a-vis opportunity costs are as high as probably only in the mini-game of Pool or Snooker. Every shot in golf is a compromise between length and precision, and long shots are often less precise than short ones. A longer shot may result in a better score if it helps reduce the total number of strokes for a given hole, but the benefit may be more than outweighed by additional strokes or penalties if a ball is lost, out of bounds, or comes to rest on difficult ground. Therefore, a skilled golfer must assess the quality of his or her shots in a particular situation in order to judge whether the possible benefits of aggressive play are worth the risks. And then there is the wind and the slope when the ball lands etc.

Problem was on the first two to three times we tried playing golf, my first short with the 3 wood always got the first ball into the Goma lakes. I had to buy a book from the UNZA Bookshop to improve my swing and understand my scoring etc. It worked. As more balls dropped into the lakes, we had to move away from the water and "teed off" near the back gate of UNZA with the "greens" nearer to the water. We played both stroke play and match play and this was foursome or singles etc. I am not sure what my handicap is now but back then, it came close to the average entrant at Chainama Golf Club. So we enlisted as student members at the club. Then we got excited one day and starting playing on one green during an actual game instead of being at the practice range. This infuriated the club captain and coupled with us having untucked our shirts, hence breaking club rules, we got de-registered barely two weeks into our membership. And that was the end of yours truly's golf career. It ended before it started. I guess now that am a bit mobile and can behave better, I would consider going back to Chainama Golf Club. Any volunteers to join me? I still love the way they score in Golf: birdie, albatross, eagle, condor (these are bird-related or feathered) etc. I guess only cricket has a better scoring system. What can beat wickets, runs, not outs, centuries, etc? But cricket is for another "blog". But the types of shots in golf (i.e. drive, approach, chip, punch, knock-down, lay-up, flop shot, draw, fade, shank, chunked shot or turfed shot, duffed shot) are only rivalled if not beaten by pool and snooker which has top-spins, english-left, jump shot, scratch, bottom-right, etc.

Am thinking of being a small type golfer again. Not to rival Madalitso Muthiya (pictured above) or Machael K. Chiluba. But maybe we can make use of some holidays and afternoons better. All that is needed is golf clubs (quite expensive I must say), golf balls, golf shows, a golf bags, some golf t-shirts, good slacks and belt (ha ha ha!) and pins of course. On clubs, a full set typically consists of a driver, two fairway woods (generally 3- and 5-woods), a set of irons from 3 to 9, a pitching wedge, a sand wedge, a putter, and one more club of the player's choice. Many players opt to avoid the 3- and 4-irons (which are more difficult to hit). Another common variation is to use only the 3, 5, 7 and 9 out of the numbered irons. The extra space in the player's bag can then be filled with more woods, easier-to-hit "hybrid" clubs, additional high-loft or intermediate wedges, and/or a specialized chipping club or multiple putters. Good way to invest into a better future as a mature. Not starting golf when it is too late.

Which reminds me, Madalitso Muthiya has the distinction of being the first and only Black African and Zambian to play in the U.S. Open in 2006.

But before I go, a few other things golf, Tiger Woods (the guy is aptly named for golf right), gets too much money compared to his colleagues and at more than 100 million dollars from sponsors and appearance (this is not including prize money but just endorsements and other contracts), he makes the likes of CR7 look poor (there I go to football). With Schumacher gone and Mike Tyson history, he is going to take long to beat. He deserves the money though. Tiger Woods has helped 'revitalize' world interest in golf. On Sunday April 8th, 2001 he created history by holding all 4 major championships simultaneously: the US Open, British Open, US PGA, and the Masters. In 1930 the legendary Bobby Jones won what is generally regarded as a golfing Grand Slam, when he won the then 4 majors in the same calendar year: the US and British Open and Amateur titles. Maybe the unique title 'GrandMaster of Golf' describes Tiger Wood's achievements.

This inspired the joke "What do you call hundreds of rich, adult white males chasing one black man?" Answer: "The PGA Tour".

One Two Testing

Just as the title says , this is a test transmission.