Excellence.....My Journey Through Reflection

“QUALITY; a peculiar and essential character; an inherent feature or property; a degree of excellence; superiority in kind; a distinguishing attribute.

(The Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

I want to talk about quality in terms of “a degree of excellence.” I want to talk about it in terms of people.

But first, some background. I am an artist. In Zambia that can mean a lot of different things. But in my short time working here, I have noticed the importance of quality in every aspect of what I do. There is a huge difference between the reception I get now and the reception I got in the beginning when I knew nothing about my brand or even the basic importance of having one. Once upon a time, I thought I could just apologise for being late, wear whatever I wanted, say whatever I wanted, “be me” and people would still believe. I can’t tell you how hard it was to convince clients that I was nothing more than a rookie cabaret singer who played at Arcades on occasion.

The first time I went to a meeting in half a suit and spoke my “school English” I walked out of there a boss. After that I decided to exude excellence and quality at all times, even just when someone recognises me in a store.

Now I pay attention to what I say, who I say what to, how I walk, how I stand, how I smell, how I groom myself, who negotiates for me, when I speak, what events I go to, which places I am seen at because if I am asking you to respect my grind, respect my ideals, believe in my brand and pay my asking price I sure as hell better be worth it. This is an essential part of everything that people seem to be forgetting around here.

Last night I went to one of the most prominent hotels in Lusaka for a little meeting. We walked into the bar and the first table we saw had not been cleared. The bar was not particularly full so it begged the question as to why the waiters were being so lackadaisical about keeping the place clean. Our waiter then proceeded to bring us drinks, no spoon to stir my hot chocolate, no ice in my friend’s glass and on top of that she had to mix her drink by pouring from glass to glass herself. These are basic things that people can’t be bothered to pay attention to or perhaps they decide not to care to pay attention. I would fire the whole staff in that bar.

I go to radio stations a lot. It broke my heart to walk out of an interview once and be accosted in the hallway by a young radio presenter, completely hammered at 11am on a Saturday, slurring his words as he asked me to consider a job co-hosting his show. First of all, say what you want about radio hosting, it is a very relevant occupation, I don’t see why anybody should be at work drunk. No matter what job they do. A person must choose to be clean, to be on time, to be sober, to perfect and respect his craft. A person must choose to deliver excellence.

We had an awards show last week. The first ever Zambian Music Awards and there was a lot of hype building up to them; so much hype that I was filled with trepidation when I went to the venue for the dress rehearsal on the actual day. To my surprise, I was greeted by the most beautiful stage I have ever seen here, lighting and seating so precisely arranged that it felt as though I was in another country. Not to shoot down my own, but it’s been a long time coming.

The ceremony itself was something to be proud of, from the master of ceremonies who was elegantly dressed in a well cut suit, well-spoken, on cue every single time, enthusiastic and professional throughout the show, all the way down to the effort that was seen to be have been taken by most present to look and behave like they were at an important event; because it was. Musicians being recognised for their efforts to create and promote art is an important moment. It filled me with pride to walk onto that stage and present the award for the Best Jazz Album, jazz being one of my personal favourites in this world of music and think how great it is that I am part of that world at a time when it is taking a definite turn for the better.

It made me think about excellence. Excellence takes effort. To be the best version of me, I must at all times be aware of my shortcomings, accept them and strive daily to work on them and improve on those things that are less than what they should be. That is why the team that pulled off that awards show did such a great job, because they looked at what was in their hand and made a plan and a decision to use what they had to get the job done as best they could instead of being calm about it and leaving the end result up to chance.

I am inspired by a young man I met recently. Every day I am struck by this person and the air of purpose and determination that causes him to strive to be the best version of himself he could possibly be. From the way he dresses, to the way he speaks, the things he speaks of , the things he wants to do, the places he likes to go, his excellent spirit, his politeness and air of calm confidence, the way he wakes up every day to get his job done, works at exhausting every ounce of passion he can muster and channelling it into the things he loves, his focus that ensured that he is as educated and worldly-wise as he is at such a young age, and improving his skill set and qualifications, spreading positive energy, purpose, optimism, and belief in self without even talking about it, just by being it. He is different. A unique mix of class and maturity and excellence that has earned my respect and admiration.

Sometimes you meet someone who makes you think about who you are and question whether or not what you are is enough or you are under selling yourself. He is one such person. There are many times when I am lazy and lack the focus that is necessary to meet many of my targets. I find myself procrastinating and ignoring things, ignoring goals I set for myself and placing them on the back burner because I can get away with not doing it when I said I would. Sometimes I fall into the bad habits of others or am demoralised by their seeming lack of concern or interest in things we set out to do together. None of this is excellence. But to be excellent one must decide to be.

So last week I decided to start waking up earlier, to get serious with my prayer life, to eat better and eat less, to take better care of my skin, to not be a slob just because it isn’t a working day, hanging around in baggy pants with my hair in a messy bun; I decided to write my goals down again and start working towards achieving them, to sign the documents that need to be signed and finish the process of packaging myself as a precisely conceptualised, easily understood and accessible brand, to get actively involved in helping in the communities around me, becoming a voice for the helpless and the underprivileged, a role model and mentor to young girls who are what I used to be;  to get my money right and make my family and my very serious man proud. Most importantly to live every day so that when I am done I will look back and know I did right by myself and lived an excellent life.

Unforgettably Yours,

Miss Mahogany…

Just a little thing I need to say....

This time I must be careful not to offend. But this is my opinion okay? Good. Today we are going to talk about a few of my pet peeves. I live in a very colorful society, so full of things to see and think about.

Another thing I must make very clear, I am not writing this from a higher moral ground, I am merely inviting you to sit down at my table and be real about real things that we all do and go through and sometimes IGNORE.

I spent the past five years fluctuating between a size 16 and a size 12. Sometimes you live in denial when you are like that. So let’s just say I sometimes dressed inappropriately for my weight and body shape, hey let’s face it big tummies are not the most beautiful things in ill-fitting clothes. Let me hide behind the “I was young and foolish” excuse. Because some of the fashion faux pas I committed cannot be blamed on anything other than foolishness. For instance, top too tight and too short, breasts hanging out, riding up my waist, bend over to pick up something or reach out to hug someone with crack showing, okay I never went that far but yes, let’s talk about that. What happened to the right size of underwear being worn inside the right pair of jeans? I see this happening so often now that it’s almost becoming, no wait, it will never be normal. The worst is when the said crack belongs to a guy. That is just beyond disgusting. God forbid he should turn around and offer me a contract. I’m sorry I can’t take anybody who doesn’t mind being semi naked in public seriously. And to all the ladies who wear traditional beads in their waist, we really aren’t supposed to see them.

Shoutout to the men; we have moved on from the days when “jeans hangin’ low” was cool. No, I mean it and I think I speak for a lot of other women. I don’t want to see that. Really, I don’t. Another thing, the skinny jeans are not for everyone and we don’t want to see them if they are too tight. Strangling yourself down there. Give us a break please. Also, personal hygiene is VERY important. Take a shower, in cold water even…a li’l hand lotion and some deodorant, and don’t forget the toothpaste yeah? Too many of you seem to think these things are not important, NEWSFLASH! I don’t care what car you drive, if you stink I won’t be tryna get to know you. Also, cut your nails! GOSH!!!!!!!!!

While we are on the subject, if I say I do not want to give you my number that should be respected. Same way my decision to decline the drink you offer should be respected.  I do not want to go to dinner with every man I meet. Nor should I. And if I happen by some chance to agree to dinner, it doesn’t mean you will get any more than that, you can pay for the pleasure of my company while you eat your food,( God forbid you are a messy eater), other than that I am not interested and that doesn’t make me a tease. Men need to respect the value of a woman, we are not for sale. Something some of us seem to have forgotten.

Ladies. There is a lot to be said for good grooming. I really need to figure out what the weave was invented for. I weave mine once a month, because let’s be real keep it in longer and it starts to smell funky, nobody wants their man kissing their forehead and smelling feet and burnt rubber. Color matters too. This is Africa, where we have black skin, no natural blondes, and God didn’t make anyone with green or purple hair, let’s leave that for the circus clowns shall we? The bra strap. Underwear is for wearing under clothing, not on top of it, or riding above it. And it doesn’t take much to get measured for the correct size so that it fits, you can explain “muffin top” but that’s about the only thing you can explain, I don’t think they have invented a name for strap cutting into shoulder or cup cutting breast in half.

Another thing we need to stop doing is watching television and thinking we can copy and paste what we see there into real life. You can’t wear knee high leather boots in an African summer. Neither is unnecessary attitude an attractive attribute in any woman. I really don’t care who you are and what you have, I do me. My life, my bubble; do you. I will applaud your success. Life is not a sitcom, or a soap opera. People have bills to pay and gossip never put money in anybody’s bank account.

The last thing on my list; SKIN BLEACHING. *GASP* This appalling trend needs to stop. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, whatever color you are. WHY is it necessary in your mind, for you to apply those horrid smelling concoctions to your skin? No really, we sit next to you and smell sulphur and brimstone, your hairline, knuckles and feet are a funny shade of blackened brown while the rest of you that is visible is yellow, orange and red. You are usually the ones wearing the blonde weave. We call you “red brick women.” Yes, we do. This trend is ugly. Dark skin, light skin, uneven toned skin like mine, all of us are beautiful the way we are without all those cancer inducing applications that seem to be all the rage now, a glaring example of the low self-esteem many of us carry around like a crutch.

All these things in my list say a lot about who we are, our identity, how we want to be perceived. I want to be taken seriously. I do. So I am clean and well spoken; polite and gracious and friendly and bathed. I am a sucker for a gentleman with good manners, good grammar, in clean clothes, occasionally a properly fitting suit, good shoes, clean hair who knows some politics, some good books, some poetry and has self-respect. (INSERT NAME HERE) Lately, however, there seem to be more over-age men and under-age boys drinking at all hours of the day and night, cussing and competing over foolish things in their vests and sagged jeans. You attract what you project. Lack of progress cannot attract somebody who wants to move forward in life, not a woman, not an employer, not even good friends. Same goes for the inappropriately dressed young ladies loitering in malls, asking for drinks from strangers in pubs, wasting time with jealous gossip, malice and slander in the hair salon and over drinks instead of doing constructive things. Ugly attracts ugly. Decide who you want to be and live like you mean it.

Food for thought.

Miss Mahogany

This Woman's Work.....

Yesterday I was angry. Really angry. That anger inspired this blog entry. This is going to be one of the most brutally honest posts I will ever write. It is also going to be really long. Judge me if you want, at this point I don’t care. I am going to talk about men. But, you will be surprised by what I have to say because today, I am on their side.

Do not misunderstand me. This essay is not in support of douchebaggery, I am in full support of those women who send their man-whore husbands packing, but in this instance I am talking to those foolish ones who have good men or are being courted by good men and making them pay for other people’s mistakes or their silly insecurities. By the way, I am speaking from experience not from a higher moral ground.

I decided to do a little research for this one. I even talked to my grandma. I wanted some backup for what I am about to say. And also, I come from a group of really strong, typical, "stand by your man" women who I really admire, because it takes a special type to be that one. So embedded in my flowery words and clever phrasing and paraphrasing, you best believe the truth I speak is real. I think we are stabbing ourselves in the foot as women or whatever we actually are. I’m thinking many of us are too immature to bear the title. The behaviour going round leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I watched a girl, not particularly beautiful or in this particular instance, intelligent, have a public altercation with a guy once. He was not wrong, but she was angry and she wasn’t hiding it. Cussing, waving her arms about, raised voice, the whole thing...and it took me back to once upon a time long ago when I was that girl. Yes, I was that girl once and I learnt the hard way that a man is a man, say and do what you like, one day you will know. I got smacked. I wanted to smack her.

Women talk too much. I know the hundreds of girls who follow me on twitter and are my friends on facebook will feel really uncomfortable reading stuff like this but I am a firm believer in removing the log from my own eye. Once upon a time I had a man in my life that was nice and sweet and fun and my friend and I took great advantage of him and his kindness. Then the tables turned. I spent two years trying to get back what I had destroyed with my arrogance and selfishness and my MOUTH! I failed by the way. Once you create a monster you cannot un-create it. In the end his behaviour reached boundaries we both knew he shouldn’t cross but he crossed them anyway. However, in hindsight, I fully acknowledge my role in causing that implosion.

How many times do we hear talk of the pretty ‘diva’ who never gives her really awesome boyfriend any kind of breathing space? She finds a new fault every day. She wants money, she needs shoes, she is suspicious of his female friends, hates the rest of his friends, she won’t go to that place because it’s cheap, she hates that he never has money, when he has money she hates it if he won’t spend it on her, and God forbid they have a disagreement in public, because then she will undress him and his whole family, insult his friends and still demand to be driven home. She doesn’t care about his dreams, or fears, or little things that hurt him or make him feel vulnerable, or what he likes and dislikes and don’t you dare ask her to try to go out of her way to prove the love she so vehemently swears by on social networks.

Yes we all know that girl and funny enough, sometimes that girl manages to convince the poor dolt to marry her and then she becomes his even more horrid wife. The kind who makes it untenable for his friends to visit him at home and then locks him out when he comes home late after following those friends for a breather at the nearest pub. By the way, locking him out is stupid, you best believe homeboy will find a soft place to land and if you do it often enough, one day he just won’t come back.

This girl is annoying. She needs to learn some things. First of all, men really don’t care as much about love and sex as they do about respect. Respect is an essential component of a working relationship; respect a good man, that good man will love you. It’s that simple. I can hear the murmurs. But I know this to be true. The quickest way to send him running is to treat him like the gum on the bottom of your shoe. The ones with no balls love that, but I have no time for the ones with no balls, as disrespectful as that sounds, I am talking about real good men, not boys and snivelling idiots.

Just in case you get confused, a good man to me, is the type that has values, and morals, respects himself and others, values and protects his family, honours his elders, loves his mother, has a plan and potential NOT just a job and buckets of money, someone who works hard to make an honest living, says “please” and “thank you,” admits when he is wrong and tries to make amends, is not afraid to feel and to respect and attempt to understand and consider other people’s feelings, tells the truth, is not a hypocrite…that kind of man. Not a poster boy, or a playboy, or an atm but a real human being with character and flaws that make him human. A king; at least to me.

Now if you know deep down inside that you have one of those and that he tries to do what he can within his power to make you happy and prove to you his devotion and loyalty then this is the point at which you must examine yourself. If not then this will not apply to you.

A man wants a woman who will talk to him, not AT him, pointing out his faults, making light of his weaknesses and using them against him. A man wants a woman who is discreet, the type of woman who will see something she doesn’t like and wait till they get home to tell him firmly and respectfully that he was out of line, not the type that will embarrass him. A man wants a woman who is his friend, his companion, his foot soldier, through thick and thin, through good and bad; the type of woman who doesn’t mind a broke date because at the end of the day she is not a trophy but a partner. A man wants a woman who makes him proud to be with her, someone who carries herself like a lady, with courtesy and respect for herself and others, not a pretentious bitchy sour grape who makes it difficult for him to ever have a good time. A man wants a woman to protect his heart, to look out for his interests, to make him feel important and wanted and needed and necessary, a woman who won’t ignore him, who will pay attention to him and care to know if something is wrong or if he needs something, the type of woman who doesn’t have to be told, she just knows when he needs to be held, because they do sometimes. A man wants a woman who is honest, doesn’t play games with his head, doesn’t leave him feeling used, someone who is real, like, “This is me, either you want it or you don’t and if you want it, I’ll be the best woman you ever had.”

How many of us are that woman? I think very few. Here, where I live a man is like a new car, we compare wheels and additional features, and when things go wrong and he needs fixing, we don’t care, after all there are “mechanics” to refill his oil and water and check his brakes and send him back to us good as new, those being his mother, his sisters, his friends…sadly however, we open the door for him to roll out, because sometimes, the “mechanic” is prettier and more mature and progressive and more attentive and more authentic than us and not a relative. Or maybe even just the maid at his house who gave a damn! That happens too.

What happened to being honest and open and good and taking a man as he is and liking him for just that? When did maintaining the status quo become more important than appreciating the value of a man as a human being? When did even the good men become dogs, or less than dogs because let’s be honest, those of us who can stand dogs usually treat them better than the men in our lives.

We only have ourselves to blame when they don’t wanna be around us, don’t care what’s going on with us, quit calling and texting, quit coming over, hate our stupid girlfriends who convince us that bitchiness is cool, CHEAT, cheat again and eventually leave. Because sometimes, they look elsewhere for what we won’t give them and hope they get caught just so that we can try. This sounds very wrong coming from me, but I have been cheated on before and I know exactly why, I left my door and my back gate open. That won’t happen again.

This is me being real and I’m not bragging and saying my person is perfect and I get everything right, I’m just saying that if he does right by me, I’m not going to let the seeds he sows fall to the ground, so even though not all of them out there are stellar citizens of the world, there are those who should be taken care of and if you happen to be lucky enough to have one of those, take care of your man. Examine yourself and do right by him, because trust me, if you don’t somebody will and he won’t be coming back this time.

I speak my truth. It’s real out here!

Unforgettably Yours,

Miss Mahogany.