This Girl, Anna 3

“Eh, Bratha” Zack muttered struggling away from his heavy accent. “Call me back.” The line went dead before Omari could breath a second time. He called back immediately. “Is everything ok there?” Omari asked, a little anxious that something could be wrong with his wife, yet fully aware that he couldn’t trust everything his brother said. “You tell me,” Zack responded, his voice laced with venom and spite. Omari didn’t speak for a couple of seconds. Then, “Are you out to frustrate Marlene, Zack?” Sarcastic laugh. “Ha!” You know me so well Bratha.” Sneer. “And you knew I was right too” he went on. “Marlene hasn’t survived two years in your house. You already threw her back to your village. More laughing Who would have thought to believe beauty ever knew where brains lived!” Omari clenched his fists and forced himself not to say a word. Being far from his wife didn’t stop him from protecting her, but it definitely slowed down his actions.

walking man

“Leave-my-wife-alone.” Omari made each word sound like a sentence. “She is there for a reason and I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke through gritted teeth but let the last word out in full anger. Zack on the other side couldn’t help but smile. This is exactly what he prayed for. A break-up. And it was happening right before his eyes. “ It’s all good bro. We’ll take care of her.” Omari started to talk…but his brother was no longer interested. He placed the phone back on the receiver, turned and walked back home, whistling, happy that he had actually been right! Marlene had failed to keep her house in order…or maybe Omari had failed to unleash the real woman in her. Perhaps Marlene was not happy with her choice and was holding back in her marriage! She probably regrets everything! Zack’s mind was reeling now. Maybe he had a chance with her. Maybe, just maybe he could finally make her, his! His heart thumped hard in excitement. It took him a full minute to realize he was walking very fast too.


Marlene downed a second mug of porridge while young Missy sat scooping hers with her finger and licking it. “Missy, you got to stop that now!” Marlene scolded and Missy quickly shoved her finger into her mouth again. Sucking all the porridge on it she pulled her finger out, examined it and smiled in satisfaction. Marlene stared at her and looked away, pain filling her as tears welled up in her large eyes. ‘We shouldn’t have come here’. She thought ‘The poor thing will go crazy playing all by herself!’


The door suddenly burst open, startling everyone in it. A huge elderly lady stood at its entrance. She stopped and stared at Marlene, then at Missy, and back to Marlene. “Nana!” Missy sprang from her chair and ran to meet her grandmother. She was the only person in the room who made any move. Marlene then stood and waited for the hugs, kisses and saliva-spit gestures to die down before saying a word.


“Karibu” She finally offered her mother in-law in. Mama Maria was in no rush though. She walked in slowly as though cautious her weight could pull down the sad example of a house. After carefully scrutinizing Marlene, she finally smiled to herself and looked down making sure Marlene knew the smile was in no way meant for her. She had figured her out. Mothers! “You plan to live alone when you know very well you are having another baby?” She held no mercy at her scorn. Marlene fell into her seat, speechless and unprepared. She could have sworn this woman was a witch! How on earth did she know this? Or Did Omari tell her? She hang her head in shame, waiting for Mama Maria’s execution. It sure as hell did. “That baby had better be a boy.” Looking straight into her eyes Mama Maria made sure she was well understood. “If it is then you and I can remain friends. If it’s not…Well, you had better pray it is!” She took two steps back from her daughter in law and warmth and love suddenly filled her face as she turned to face Missy. “I have some soft sugar canes for you, little one. When you get tired of running around in circles, come over so we try them ok?” Missy hardly heard half of what her Nana said. The accent a major barrier, she simply smiled and nodded. Mama Maria walked out slowly, supporting her weight on her own large hips. Marlene realized she had been holding her breath all this time. She gasped, grabbing her porridge. The only word she managed in a whisper was, ‘Witch’


This girl, Anna 2


“Good to see you Zack”, Marlene lied as she offered her hand and tagged along a fake smile. He ignored the hand and staggered right into her house, scanning through the walls and floor like he was looking for something. Marlene was not surprised. She was sad though; Zack had never changed. She shut the door and followed Zack through his rummaging. “I didn’t carry anything that would be useful to you,” She thought she could save him some time. It was enough that she wasn’t Zack’s favourite sister in law. Knowing how much he disliked her made her grateful that she lived so far away from them. The nagging feeling of regret slipped back. This time she let it hang around for a while. She’d had too much peace within herself; any negativity would destabilize her. Right now, she needed stability…and peace, and this may have been one of the worst mistakes she may have made since she said ‘I do’ to Oman.

Zack gave up his search and turned to look at Marlene one more time. “Why did my brother stay back in the city?” The smell that escaped his mouth made Marlene swallow back impending puke. “Has he finally agreed to marry another wife?” Zack tilted his head as if in deep thoughts, ignoring Marlene’s look of discomfort. His face suddenly lit up, a clear indication that the thought pleased him more than the sight of her. Staggering a few steps back he waved a finger at her in disapproval. “He should have married Flora. They look better together, you know” his grin curved up to one side of his face and once more he force- focused his face at Marlene and let his eyes train through her trim body. Marlene shifted uncomfortably. Her husband’s brother was crazy enough to seek another woman for his brother. Who knew what else he was capable of? The lust in his eyes didn’t make her any relaxed. “You should go now. Its Missy’s nap time.” Zack ‘s grin widened, “Really?” he slurred. Marlene went for the door, and opened it, again, wide. “Thanks for stopping by.” Her face looked serious enough to make Zack stagger out, but Zack’s unmoved grin said he would be back, soon”

woman in black

Marlene threw the door closed and rushed towards the back door, almost tripping over young Missy who sat quietly picking dirt with her fingers and putting in it in her mouth. She opened it and let her belly pump up onto the flowers. Herbs. She suffered terrible morning sickness and much as Zack served her nostrils some odour, she knew she was well into the core of the first trimester.

Days turned to weeks and uncle Zack kept a close watch of Marlene. He thought of her a lot lately, even dreamt of her at night. Her body looked lean even after childbirth. Her skin always glowed and the sun never ran her dry. Her breasts didn’t hang like most village girls and she was too bright for a girl. He didn’t like her. He was obsessed with her, and he hated that she had such an effect on him, yet she married his brother. His anger rose as he recalled the day of the announcement. He was so hurt he couldn’t attend the wedding. So he lied about some travel plans he had and instead hid at his friend’s hut. They moved to the city immediately and he resolved to treat his wounded heart in peace. And now, here she was, in no hurry to go back to the city. This puzzled him. Had Marlene failed to make her marriage work? He spat out the remnants of the sugar cane he had sucked dry and noticed they had landed on the ground his sister had just swept clean. Quickly, he tiptoed to the back of the hut to finish his thoughts. Flora his childhood friend and once bait to distract Omari from marrying Marlene, was still around the village. This meant that his brother had not considered her as his other wife. So then why would Marlene move back alone? He decided to visit the local phone booth, call his brother and find the answers to all his questions.

….to be continued…

This girl, Anna


This is the Story of Anna* now a 29 year old. She is a happy and bubbly woman and most people think its because she has no clue what life is about. But Anna has had a humble childhood. She has seen poverty and she knows frustration in its literal sense.. Maybe walking her journey will tell you more. I hope it does….

She was almost never born…Oh yes! She came way too early like she just couldn’t wait to start living already! The choice wasn’t quite hers but her parents. They were distraught, frustrated and confused. But, scared as they were, they decided to keep her. She had an elder sister, Missy who was barely a year old when she was conceived. But it didn’t matter any more. Little Missy had to stop breastfeeding, and learn to be a big girl.

Life was already serving Marlene a hard one. The city life had served her too much culture shock and she was just getting used to speaking the local Swahili language with less accent from down South. News that she was expecting another baby this early would spread faster than bush fire. She was sure she could hack being a mom to yet another child, but not the rumours that would carry with it. She knew she had to do something about it. She had less than three months to decide what.

Meanwhile young Missy adapted to the new changes, oblivious that her young life would change a lot in the next couple of months, maybe less. She wondered why she wouldn’t enjoy her ‘nyonyo’ times anymore, but was content with just sitting on her Mama’s lap and dozing off each night. ‘Porridge with milk isn’t too bad anyway.’ She would comfort herself, ‘especially when it has sugar and margarine in it’ and so life moved on with plans to get away from the city life before Marlene’s pregnancy started to show.

It wasn’t long before Marlene, young Missy and the unborn child were settled in her marital home in the village. Her new neighborhood comprised of scattered huts, lots of digging land, millet and maize farms and lots and lots of in-laws. Had she known life would turn out worse for her, she would have gone back to the city with the first available bus. But then here she was, ready to do this.

Mama B

She had just finished setting Missy’s clothes on the far end of the wooden plank she had improvised when she heard a knock on the door. “Hmm, it could be anyone!” she almost scoffed when it dawned on her that all her neighbours were her relatives. She battled the painful sting of regret that tempted to show her around and with a smile opened the door, wide. The man standing at the door didn’t replicate her smile though. He carefully scanned Marlene’s tall and slender frame taking in her beauty with envy and spite rather than anything positive, as was his character. Zack was Marlene’s brother in law. “So its true you’re here?” He sneered and almost fell backwards at the weight of his own voice in the air. He was drunk and Marlene was not ready to coax a drunken man on her first day in the village. She needed to make him leave immediately.

….To be continued…

Mourning Lummie’s Death

We started off pretty well say a couple of days before Raine was born in December 2013. Hubby and I, well, we decided to gift me early with a new phone for being a mother-to-be anew. I was very brave! Walking around showing clear evidence of not being a virgin… or better yet declaring to all and sundry how you never used protection while at it is REALLY brave. I ballooned a lot slower this time and by early December that year I was literary straining to move around. I was barely hanging in there and anticipating the freedom from pregnancy. This story has nothing to do with babies or fat cheeks and sausage toes.


Justin brought the phone home on the 26th of that month and the first photos I took were of Pesh my elder munchkin. She looked lovely through the 5mp lenses and I couldn’t stop clicking after her. Right after the birth of Raine, I woke up in the middle of the night and took photos of her, clicking at her every move, zooming in on her skinny and peeling toes and some more at her clenched fists. She looked so bold and strong she made me think how I must have been when I was born. I shared my pictures with my husband at 4am that morning…


It felt as though we were whispering as we chatted for an hour through Whats App. The font was just big enough, the light not too bright for my sensitive eyes. I fell in love with it just as I did my new baby. It was through my Lumia phone that I joined instagram. It was with this beautiful gadget that I was able to print photos and send to my mom in law after her visit. I loved using the speakerphone and so did Raine. She enjoyed conversations held out aloud during diaper changes, and seemed to enjoy the attention she got every time the video recorder followed her. I recorded pretty much every thing; from her first crawl to her first steps , her first water splashes during bath times and all her giggles…her first teeth were captures in it…so did her first matutas…and mosodo which we ended up creating a song for.

cute feet

But she must have known my phone was a darling to me because despite all these adventures we went through together, she was the first person to smash it on the floor. The first screen crashed early this year. I should have started saving for a new one then but we just never know what fate has in store ever, do we?


I spent a painful and savable 5k to fix the screen and in less than a month, Pesh joined the smashing bandwagon. I spent another 4k in another cubicle repair shop worried that I may become a regular. I finally decided to protect the gadget from my overly playful minions.


I went to my favourite online shop – Ebay and shopped flat out., pimping my little gadget with a new protective case, and a protective screen and a pink unique charger… Oh yes it had to be pink!

3ft-Retractable-Charger-Micro-USB-Data-Cable-Cord-For-Samsung-For-Huawei                      $_12(18) the case too 🙂

A few weeks later Little Lummie,(that’s my phone’s name and its sad I am naming it now) passed on quietly while lying silent and untouched on my desk. I rushed to my fundi who declared its death just this morning…”The memory collapsed” he said, “…Think of the memory as the heart of the phone, through the charger is in perfect condition.” He went on as I blinked hard pushing back tears of pain and disappointment. ‘It should have at least lasted till its second anniversary for friends’ sake!’ I thought. It wasn’t even the least remorseful. It never even flickered or gave a sign of its coming end. It- Just-Died… on the 22nd day of a month; of all times of any month.

Gone forever... I loved you, Lummie, but you loved yourself more

Gone forever…
I loved you, Lummie, but you loved yourself more

So I move on with life without looking back. So long Lummie, and goodbye Nokia. I am not to trust any more of your gadgets with my friendship. I have lost friends and that hurt…I have others ignoring me and that’s ok. But some friends just leave with all the treasures you entrust it to keep for you. You want to hate them but end up missing them. I have to stop typing now. Its enough I’m blogging about a dead phone but I shall not shed a tear over it!


Mpango wa Kando at my doorstep

I know now what they look like… how they smile, the thievery look they wear… Its not nice. Not at all

It was 11 in the darkness and little Raine and I were still up waiting for sleep to make its way home. I had just placed a warm bottle of milk in her hands when I heard a knock on the door. I would be a witch to expect a guest a few minutes to midnight so I checked and made sure I had locked the doors. Thieves get creative these days and much as we have excellent security around our place, I knew having my lights on this late could make us a possible target. I let Raine sit on as I peeped though the kitchen window. There stood someone wrapped in a Maasai kanga facing away from me. Instantly I remembered a friend who lost his expensive camera to someone in a Maasai Kanga. I grabbed a kitchen knife before calling out. “Who are you?”

Husband stole my baby

She turned around. It was a woman carrying a small purse and nervously kept looking around. “Please open the door.” She asked to which I almost snorted, but fought back a chuckle instead. Surely? I chose to remain polite. “I don’t know who you are or what you want. Why would I open my door?” She frowned at me; searching at my eyes and when she got nothing she opened her mouth. “ I am looking for my husband”. Huh? You lost him? “He stole my baby and I have been tracing him. I followed him from work and I can almost swear he came in though that door.” She pointed to our front gate and I remember wishing a skin disease on the person that left it open.

Friend of the enemy

“I wouldn’t know which house he went to,” I offered halfheartedly, but she wouldn’t let me off. He is a fifty-two-year-old man, and is married.” My jaw dropped and I took another good look at her. She must have been in her late 20s. “His wife is fifty and they are both very quiet people”. They moved here about three months ago”. She explained, “How old is your child?” I asked, more snooping than concerned. “Two. He’s called CJ,” she said pulling out a photo from a bag to which I tightened my hand around my knife. Raine was by my side in a few and I could see a woman’s struggle to check her out. I let her confirm it wasn’t her CJ then asked her to leave. “Please help me find him,” she begged and much as I would have liked to I didn’t work at night. I asked her to come back on the weekend or seek help from the security at the gate. I should have known what I was getting myself into.

It gets juicier…


20 minutes later…..

Baby Raine batted her eyes sleepily. She held my gaze and finally her little mind got tucked away as she drifted off to sleep. I put her to bed and felt a calmness that wasn’t going to last long. There was a sudden bang on my door that would have scared my soul right out of me. Whoever it was had no right to hit my door that way…and who were these people coming over at such witchy hours anyway? I checked the time. It was almost midnight. Mama CJ had been here just twenty minutes back so I thought she had come to tell me she had found her lost husband. I recalled how she almost picked dust with a finger and licked it as she swore she saw him come into my house.

In trouble with the boys!

I didn’t open my door. Instead I peeked from my kitchen window. It was Mama CJ alright with two of our watchmen “Mama Pesh, open the door. We want to talk” One said. Some nerve he had. “I can hear you alright. Sema,’ I insisted. Peeking brightly from where I stood. “Do you know this woman? She says she had come to see you” I shook my head blinked hard not wanting to say much. He went on lecturing me on the dangers of leaving our gate open to strangers. I listened on as part of me wondered off to the idiot who had left that door open. “I hear you.” I finally responded, a little annoyed “I hope next time you make sure she doesn’t get this close to my house”. Justin suddenly woke up from the couch where he had been napping and blearily came to the door. The watchmen were whisking the woman away and I told him bluntly that his other wife had come looking for him. I maintained a straight face.

 Cover up

He sobered up straightaway. Not guiltily…just instantly and asked, “Who again?” I tried narrating the unfolding drama but he wasn’t as patient as you are. He took the keys and rushed out after the watchmen. I followed…for gossip sake. The watchmen, had just closed the large doors behind poor and cold Mama CJ and to Justin’s persistence we were informed that the man she sought lived in one of our tenant houses; an old bloke that didn’t look like he could kill mosquitoes leave alone cheat on his wife with mama CJ. We went back home not just awed at our tenant but also how much these watchmen know and cover up!






I Almost Got Mugged

Here is how it happened. Someone was fixing my laptop. The things I have seen techies do, ai, my head is heavy with information. He asked me to download an app called Team viewer and in a few minutes my privacy was invaded, my power controlled. My mouse was moving all over the screen clicking pointing…waiting as words jumped into tabs. I sat and ogled like a two year old fascinated and at the same time curious. I strongly fought the urge to move my mouse pad and contest Al, the techie who was checking up my MacBook from the other side of town.

Despite it all Al said he needed to physically have the machine, so we met in town and I handed it over. The story begins.

thief 2

I got out of the supermarket where I intended to window shop while I waited for my laptop but ended up stuffing my bag with little silly stuff. It was evening and the rush hour was being just, the rush hour. People pouring into the streets, some changing buses, some joining queues and others waiting for people…I was one of them. Al finally came and we didn’t waste any more time. I had the laptop in my hand and knew I had to keep it well in my bag. But my bag was full and I had to remove the impulse shopping to make room for the Pc. I walked on a little further and stopped near a tiny growing tree, shielded by a metal frame. It wasn’t enough to make me obscure but I was sure of no surprises. It took a minute and I was already on my way towards my route.

I was minding my own business until a hand smacked my bag obviously hitting the edge of the MacBook tucked inside. That got my attention and instantaneously, two incredulously tall men, one of who had hit my bag briskly walked past me. I stared after them noting the ugliness of one of them. I only saw the side of his face and he was nothing short of a tough perhaps heartless bloke. He wore a nice fitting pair of jeans- not faded and a black t-shirt. The other was in grey slacks and a black shirt. Uniform? I wondered. But I also took in the possibility that if they were thieves they would either have jackets on or some form of camouflage. Nevertheless, the colours they wore would not be noticed from miles away.


It gets juicier…

I maintained my pace and kept them in my front (My husband always says you are safer behind them. you can see their every move), but then things changed. The not-so-ugly-one began to text and slowed down… I wondered for a moment why his friend wouldn’t wait up. Either way, I tried to get a good glimpse of this one who I ended up walking past. He had his tongue sticking out on one side of his mouth and for a moment I thought of calling my husband and laugh that joke away. He looked like a big anecdote but I had no time to even smile about it. The ugly tall caught my attention as he too suddenly slowed down. I thought ‘Eh, he must have realized he was talking to himself’ and I found myself walking past him too. Now I felt uncomfortable. They felt too close behind me and I had no idea how they intended to pull the rug under me.

Just then I saw the last person standing on a queue, route- Eastleigh. My place? No. Still I jumped behind the last man and for a moment I locked eyes with the ugly tall. I pretended not to notice them that it was by chance we locked eyes, but the moment they walked past I was right behind them once more. I now felt better, in control, but I knew they didn’t. Ugly clicked his tongue and gasped covering his mouth with one hand as though to say ‘Damn! This chic is too alert!’ the other whispered back and suddenly they turned towards a corner and stood, I assumed to strategise. That made me feel insecure. I had no idea whether they had given up or if they would give me a final scare. (Faults of watching too many horror movies) I didn’t wait though. I took to my heels. (And they were high) but I ran like a mad woman. Ran because that was the point when fear got to me…Ran to the safety of my bus and the comfort of my seat. I tried hard not to think if what would have happened to me in an effort to steal from me, but couldn’t help thinking the worst.

Stripping of women – a Scapegoat to Hidden Resentment


I am saddened that this is where chauvinism has got us. Yes it has to be chauvinism for how else would you explain a grown –ass man growing a head, big enough to think what he says goes…and applies this outside his home? It makes me even sadder that most of these men are from my community if not the neighborhood. I will try hard not to dare go there lest you see the ‘Tribalism From a Patriot’ in me. I will also try hard not to mention one of the reasons why I chose to marry outside my tribe. Jeez! The tribe word again!

I have noted with contempt that all these culprits that strip women naked are sexually starved and have not a single vein of romance in them. They are the very same men who command their wives to meet them in the bedroom, naked and with the lights switched off. They are the same kind who hide behind an epitome of vices such as mob violence if only in hope to touch…and have a feel of a woman’s sacred body part if only to know what it is they miss. They have no decency to ask a woman out, no patience to get to know her and no intelligence capacity to understand her worth. This is the same man you will meet at work who can’t stand working with you because you are a woman, and that very same man who tells you he cannot validate your ideas. Oh yes, that is the very same man applied in the street version.


Looking at the profiles of the people captured on social media, they all fall in the same, old, sorry state. For some reason they seem to carry around a stench of illiteracy, backwardness, and Jesus! Don’t they look like they must really hate their life situations! I say this because we need to understand that it is in spite that they strip women. It is not because we dress the way we do… that’s just some lame excuse … a vey demeaning one…it’s because they hate to see other people happy with their lives, happy with what they live for while they remain stuck in rut holes doing the same trips they do and ending up nowhere…everyday.

Then some bunch of idiots in suits who have no idea the street stripper just wanted to touch a woman to please himself goes on a chest-beating rampage claiming to support the street stripper’s actions… If only they knew what egos they massage. If only they knew what that even makes them look like.

They are the sorts that want women to stop being intelligent stop excelling, stop building empires… stop balancing work and motherhood…even stop talking already! Just sit. Sit and look pretty. Sit still and make men look good…they hate that we women are taking over the world and they hate that they are lagging behind.

Fine some ladies do dress provocatively… just like some Muslim ladies may once in a while leave that hijab behind…why not take the example of our Muslim brothers…walk up, say hello and tell the lady in a very nice way that it would be nice to put on the hijab as their belief requires? And if you really have no polite cell in you, then why not just catcall and let it go? Have we ever demonstrated against cat calling? And do they think we enjoy it? So should we strip them for catcalling too?

I shall continue to dress the way I feel best suits me. I shall continue in the same way to be a great woman in the society, or do you think it affects my reasoning, like it does you? Oh and while at it I shall make more money and buy more little dresses. You know why? Because every punch you throw at a woman only makes her stronger. Let me wear my mini… I need it at that height, not any longer, not any shorter. It is not up to you to decide for me. #MyDressMyChoice

new prof..


Dear EX, It’s been a while!

This post is not entirely my experience, Oh, please do not be tempted to think that I am not over my past or that I am bitter about it. I am simply venturing to new heights of my writing skills. I intend to offer inspiration, motivation and lessons on relationships and marriage. This letter is for many kinds of men all pulled into one body, the EX. This is for you who are stuck in a relationship that you know well will end dead, yet you still hang on, and for you who will step over everyone else as you try to eat life with a wide fork. This is for you who will let this move you a step ahead. For you who will let it guide you to be a better person.

Dear EX,
It is a shame how it took you so long to grow up. When I sit back and recall how you were back in the day I can’t help but squint my eyes in disgust as I chew off the ends of my rubbery pen. It was so full of drama; I still wonder how I live to tell the tale. What in the blazing hell was I thinking, getting entangled with you? How did I even survive? You were youthful, cheery and peppy. You were the man of your time…the man who could have as many girlfriends as the hours of a day. You were ‘The Ish’. You preferred the naïve type of women judging from all the women I ever caught you with. I was simple, old fashioned and natural. The most make up I ever wore was a simple eye-tone and lip balm. You made me feel like the world revolved around me the first time you lay your eyes on me. You bought me gifts every other day, took me out to expensive hotels and dedicated songs to me. You never wanted me to use public transport, not when you had enough cars lazing in your lot while you showed off your favourite pick of the month! My every whimper was your command, as you would stumble over yourself in an effort to please me. I ate whatever I wanted and had flowers and chocolate delivered to me.

In short you were my slave and I your queen…at least until you got me entangled around your finger. I couldn’t imagine life without you being a part of it. I worshiped you, spoke only of you, slept on open text messages from you and only after good night wishes and kisses sent from you. You were in my dreams, in my head, in my heart, and all over my life! You made sure to occupy every inch of me and were very jealous of anyone who got as much as a smile from me. And I filled your life with me…at least I did, until that day when on our way back from the long drive from The Mara. I saw something that changed everything between you and I. The name Baby Steph was on your phone’s screen, having replaced the profile name of your current theme. I stuttered as I asked whose phone that was. I could never get it through my head that you had a child, young enough to be called a baby. How old was she again, three months? But you told me she was well over a year! You knew very well how wrong it sounded to the ear…that you have a three-month-old child and you are still roaming around like a demon looking for a weak soul to devour.
broken heart 1
After a lot of convincing that I was the one and not the other woman, even though I was the other woman, I still stuck around and served as a slave to your charm. I was however getting brighter by the day and one day I put one foot against the door and got firm. Fine I was appreciating my beauty and glowing in love but to you it translated to me growing a big head…you got insecure and in your puerility and immaturity turned callous on me. You suddenly used what was mine against me. That I had not joined university was a problem. I became an illiterate nobody. In your eyes I became trashy, or was it trash? I was as useless as a lone staple pin. Then you exposed me to your first love. The woman who felt she had a right over you above all else. She was there first; she was with you when you were penniless and ugly… Oh, the comfort of having money brings a confident smile on, and that smile is simply breath taking! She seemed to know so much about me and she threw words at me. I know I looked strong even as I fought back, but deep inside those words were daggers. They sliced every gentleness and purity that made me unique. The very facet that made you attracted to me. I walked away with wounds that would take a long while to heal. With no apology and no compunction, I turned back and gave you one last smile, not to draw you close, no, but to glance at my path and salute you for making me stronger and wiser. I limped on with hope. I knew better and I just needed time to heal and get back up.

I did heal, I forgave you, I understood that it was childish play and that nothing that meant so much to me meant anything to you. I laugh now at how I trusted my heart and my love with you! It was like giving an expensive gadget to a seven-month-old baby who only knows to soak it in saliva and in minutes loose interest in it. broken heart 3

It’s nice to see you again. Really, I had actually forgotten how far I have come. The wounds you gave me are nothing but scars that remind me of a war that I survived. I live to warn my fellow girls to be careful about men like you. Oh you‘ve changed? How be that? Oh? Ok. So you are mature now, I see. How is your daughter? Oh, you don’t say! Now you are protective of her? It is nice and ironic that you know how men out there can be! I am not mocking you! On the contrary I pity you. Because that messed up dude or dudette who said Karma is a bitch never got an award for that, even though the bugger was so right! I hope you are born again now? No? Oh but you go to church? Nods… Nice. Aaaah, tithe too! Awesome. Then get your Pastor to pray with you. Your fate will follow your daughter. A man that she will give her everything to, will take that heart, spit on it, shove it to the floor, stump on it, yank it off the floor and aim it for the trash can. You will treat my wounds but this time on someone who means a lot more to you. The wounds will remind you of your past and the women you messed up. broken heart 2

So long friend. I hope you tell your fellow men to watch out. Karma’s got one big eye and is looking out!

My dad versus my husband…

Justin and I first met about nine years ago, in an ICDL Class. ICDL simply means international Computer Driving License. He asked me out and I said no. I said no because I preferred a man that was cut out just like my father. Just how would I date a man that never ironed his shirts as well as my father did or make his trousers neat with the sharp edge sharp enough to slaughter a careless fly. Just how would he stand before my father, to his awe and declare his love for me? Any man who was to face my father had to be, well, my father! But Justin wasn’t. he didn’t mind wearing a creased shirt or hanging out in casual slacks. The only thing he could not stand was hair on his head and face. Hair he had grown and bred since his teen-hood and had had enough of.

My father might as well have worked in KDF, The Armed Forces or somewhere therein. He was so particular about hygiene, grooming and keeping time, and he was and still is a perfectionist. As his children, we could not escape these habits rubbing off on us. We all learnt to brush our shoes…and his to a shine, brighter than the adverts bragging oh, so confidently on TV. He used to be a jack of all trades; aside from being the official mosquito repellant in the homestead, (forget the, ointments,jellies or nets), he could effortlessly, change the long fluorescent bulbs into shorter ones and he fixed the radio and TV when the roaches had made them homely. dad hubbyThis man, my dad could fix a broken sink, and the drainage and mend wooden joints. He was The Father…the Man, the super man, and the icon of the home. He taught us to depend on only him. We almost worshiped him! He fixed watches, goodness! He fixed everything! So when I met a man who wouldn’t mind walking around with a pair of creased jeans trousers, could go swimming in the evening of any day, sleep with one arm availed to lucky mosquitoes to feast on, and could chain smoke if the day allowed it, I was pretty sure my father would shake his head till it snapped and fell off, in disapproval. Justin was a free man. He was free and in his free-ness, he asked a naïve me out for a drink. I tried to picture myself in his company…and my father smiling blessings down on me. That picture just didn’t work.

Five years on

I would get annoyed when after waiting patiently for the man of the house to do it, I would have to kill the night suckers myself. I loathed having to balance on the kitchen counter to fix the bulb, and even worse when he would sleep outside the net, feeling all claustrophobic . I wondered what kind of a man he was. I wondered what kind of a man his father was not to teach him what my father taught me! What then would we refer to as protective, and the head? I honestly thought the head could cut, mend, fix, repair, calm down and well, beat up thugs! This man my father created in my head was bigger than superman. God would probably call him brother. But the man I met and married was a smaller man; a normal man. A man who would let me work and split the house costs equally. He won’t stop me from carrying our child through while he holds the door. This man weirdly treats me as an equal. Part of me likes that he puts me that high on a pedestal… the other me wishes he would take care of everything and have me worry about the next clinic day for my child, and what snack to pack in Pesh’s school bag. This man I married is so different from my father, and it surprises me how I have coped with him since I started dating him, five years ago.fay 5

I Am At My Best Now

Fay 1Family is the most important aspect of my life. I am not sure it’s the same for every woman I know, especially those who wouldn’t mind letting off their steams on anyone their tired gazes fall on after a hard day at work. I know of many who easily put their work ahead of their family and let everyone but their bosses wait. I know of many who beat up their kids for being creative… I know I almost did that to young Pesh for being a little mouthy pipsqueak. When she told me her teacher has a hard time doing the same I decided that was enough punishment already. Then there are those who let young pre-school kids cross the road alone. I still try to get my mind around that…and why in the name of cold seasons do those kids wear shorts that look like they did a lot of sitting, squirming, and rubbing…pairing them up with no cardigans?

Now there are those of us who misplaced their list of priorities. They let their husbands ogle at other women’s thighs in night clubs because they are NOT interesting anymore. I wish to believe I am a good family woman, and a great, no awesome employee. See, the beauty of being a rocking, married woman is that I get to enjoy life more and pretty freely too!. Being a mother automatically signs me that free ticket that allows me to perform motherly duties to everyone I meet. Pardon me if I use saliva to clean your eyes if you didn’t clean them well.. pardon me for your white heads and unfixed collars! I can easily tell a man he is looking smashin without looking like a flirt. If he dares to eye me, I will easily add that lady he wishes to please had better notice that and fix myself at the witness stand!. I can tell funny jokes and really be myself around my colleagues without the fear of making an impression! In fact, people will be curious as to who really I am; the other side of me… the side that drove my husband wild enough to marry me. I say wild because the other side of me is nothing short of non-serious business. Anyone who knows me in my hey days will agree…I loved to party, drink, dress up and dance….lots of ragga and hip hop dancing…and, whether its great or not, the belief that someone (Justin) actually liked that me teases my ego
fay 3

I am not trying to instigate the idea of marriage into anyone’s heads. I am also not trying to tell you how much single-ness rids you of the full joy in life…goodness I am getting carried away here. I am not trying (Despite my failed efforts) to show you that I am at my happiest at this stage in my life. I am not saying loving one man and knowing the ring he wears bears my name on it, or knowing I have a boss who is a family man and understands when family calls have to be responded to. All I am saying is I am inciting, not you, but the little charming thought in your head. I am hoping it turns into the angel that sits on your shoulder and tells you that that is the ultimate purpose of life. To have a family that you see grow, run home to, go out with, sing in the car with, take pictures and spend time with. For we work to live and not the other way around. Your family should smile when you are home to compensate the time you are away working.
fay 5

I have a purpose to live now, I know what I am working for, It feels incredibly good to have someone I can entrust to make me some microwave tea when I am lazy or take me out for dinner when we feel the need to, I have someone who will call me endlessly if I am not home, not to quarrel, but with worry over my safety. I have a child who will steal chocolate from mommy’s bag when we take her to school and eat my food in the belief that ‘what is mom’s is mine’. A baby who drools on my Tee-shirt or falls asleep and lets go of the nyonyo, falling away as the milk hoses all over her face. I am happier knowing I am valued and important, in the eyes of those who matter most. I am happier when my parents talk to me as a friend or colleague rather than as their child. I am a happily married woman.

Boy Meets Girl- The Chase

This post is mainly about any man who is still in the game; any man who is not committed to a woman…and of course is straight!
When boy sees girl, his first gaze will be her behind, then her bosom and later on, her face. For others, it will be your bosom, them your behind, and much later on, your face. Forget your imitated Sleek make-up or Brazilian wig…weave, or that Darling product (Made in Kenya) you invest each month in. It’s usually sexual before it can be anything else. And I know this how? I have a man by my side that allows me to ask as many questions as Pesh does in a day. Now, just go into any hood, club, even an office and as you walk in or around, follow the gaze of a man present. If you walk facing him then you should notice that he can’t wait for you to walk ahead, and faster so that he can feast his eyes on your bum. If he doesn’t like what he sees, he will check on your other attributes for compensation for what you are missing. If your bosom is also substandard (I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I mean) then you know your last hope of surviving the attraction venture hangs by a loose thread- your face. If you are pretty, whoa! That was close. You may get yourself a hello and some intro as he seeks to know your character. Trouble is if another lady passes by immediately, chances of him turning to gauge that behind are 90% to 10%, the 10% being that he is gentlemanly of him not to let you catch him. It’s a man’s world; I’m in it to understand what the buttons mean…and not to specifically press them!
boy meets girl
God made man and gave him a force that will help him get himself a wife…the chasing force. Now, it is this part that still gets me confused…those women who chase, really, how the heck do they do that? So man was made and we women placed not far off for him to notice us. You get yourself a boyfriend and in your mind you believe he will never notice another woman, right? Wrong! This is what happens in his mind. If he is a sexually satisfied man, then he will simply feed his eyes as a welcomed distraction. He will not lust after every bottom that passes close enough or smile back at a pretty face. He will always think of his woman and smile at a thought in nostalgia, because that is what belongs to him, the ones on the streets must surely belong to other men.

If your man is a womanizer, for starters you will have to compete with several women to get noticed…your intelligence may be a plus for your chances, however it does not guarantee that he will not hunt after another hard to get woman. In fact, the harder you are to get, the bigger the challenge for him, and don’t they love a challenge that involves a woman! So there you are, you make him suffer, struggle, spend. You stand him up; you literary make him go through hell and back in an effort to have him appreciate you once he gets you. Unfortunately this is not how this man thinks. To him once he gets you, the fun is over…and he wants more, so since you are his catch, he will put one paw on you just so you know he is there and use the other to find someone else who would like to play catch. That’s just how it is at least until he grows out of it… no wait, until he has no more energy to chase, because he will still feast his eyes but as calmly as a well fed leopard debating on whether to catch now and save for later or to let go hoping to catch some more when hanger strikes.
boy meets girl 2
A man who loves to chase simply enjoys the game and not so much the players. Let them play and get bored just be careful not to be the one he plays with.

Touching up the interiors…

I like the progress I have made so far. I love the way the human mind works. It seems whenever you move something from its original spot, you notice the area around it. I gave us a deadline of this year to do most of the furnishings in the house. Actually till the end of October. We have made quite some progress on this and yes, we did it diligently. We were working with our pace and at the same time saving up. There is no such comfort as knowing you have back up somewhere…more like a cushion for you to fall on should an emergency come up.So this is what I have been working on lately.

I gave my bedroom top priority. It looked really bad with marks on an unpainted wall, and barely shelves to use as storage. When you have something so tiny and survive with it, each day you find yourself dreaming of big things. Like the wardrobe I sought in every supermarket for many days. They were all too costly and still looked weak. So I went to my trusted fundi and showed him some photos I got online. We re-created a new model of my wardrobe as big as my dream was. It is a double door- sliding (for the sake of space and all attached to the wall. Its extension is a dressing table that one can only break down to steal:)

Old shelves that did storage

Old shelf that did the storage

That’s the same wardrobe my husband decided would look better in green than blue and sad as I was it actually turned out to be a great colour!
New Wall to wall wardrobe

New Wall to wall wardrobe

As for the ugly marks, I put up small beautiful frames to hide the flaws…

I went back to our open kitchen and added more storage at the top. I can never have enough storage…not with my mom as my neighbor, no. she calls me to collect kienyeji mbogas and bananas from my mama land. I love my mother; in her eyes, her children never grew up! So we fixed three wooden partitions and yes, I painted it white so it would go well with the other kitchen colours.

I hated the seat colours I had… they somehow looked too noisy with the many colours we had…pink, orange, golden brown and black… this is what they looked like…

These are about 20 years old by the way.. hehe

These are about 20 years old by the way.. hehe

We opted to shut them up and changed the seat covers to creamy and black. We then matched them with a large black and cream carpet and voila… the room was finally lighting up! DSC02853
We just needed the right drapery and we would be good to go. A friend insisted we keep it white. “Your house looks like a rainbow” she lamented “please don’t paint it any more!” I really hope she was not on the verge of howling… Hehe. I listened and took my rainbow inspiration to its edges, combining the kitchen green with some gold and largely white on the extended decor…DSC02856
kitchen main door curtains I kept the cushion linen orange to match the large orange holding the entertainment unit but this is only to be seen when we are cleaning or changing the covers. unsealed cushions
Those are yet to be completed and yes, it’s a Do-It-Yourself-Task.

Eventually when they are all filled out and stitched to closure they will look somewhat like this…seat with Cushion 1
So far, i stand from far and I like what I see.. its my little haven and done in a span of three years. so proud of myself 😀

Justin wants a male touch to the house…he wants a home theatre and he wants it now…I, on the other hand want a female touch! (One wonders what the heck we have been touching up with!) I need flower pots big enough for a future son to sneak a pee in hehehe! Just kidding, but in the meantime, I am desperately in need of book shelf and study desk ideas… 🙁

How I know she loves me…

I know she loves me, this girl. Even when she may not say it, I know she loves me with her life and would do anything for me…oh, and her daddy too! In her eyes we rock and yes, we know it. This is how.

She throws tantrums
Whenever she wants to accompany us somewhere or when she insists that I stay home rather than go to work; she may hide my shoes or steal my office keys from my bag to keep me chasing her around. Or she may just break down or go to a corner and sulk. Sometimes, she wants me to be the one to take her to school and pick her up, yet I really can’t! This only means that she always wants me around. My company means a lot to her and being around her is reassuring to her.

She imitates me
Time back, she would pick up the remote and start walking around pretending to be on call. “Are you serious?” she would ask, then stop abruptly, bite her lip and think really hard. Nowadays, she picks my phone, calls her cousins or her daddy and cuddle on the couch pulling her feet in a cross bow way. She then picks up my pen and scribble something and at some point, hold the mouth piece and whisper instructions to me then continue with the call. She wears my shoes, picks up my bag and instructs Vivianne to take good care of me till she is back. She will promise to buy me goodies if I am a good that day and then head high and nose in the air, she will walk out. Five words…I am her role model.

She protects me
She watches with a hawk’s eye to see if anyone will harm me; even when I play with her daddy and I seem to whine, she interjects and confirms if we need to get grass sticks and beat up daddy… (She knows daddy can take it all; he is superman!) She offers to say sorry when she sees me sad and even hugs and comforts me when I get a graze on my hand…she will ask about it till its healed and she will tell anyone who cares to listen how mommy got hurt…then force them to tell her mommy sorry!

She hurts me with words
“You are not nice, mama!” she will say, “I will go away with my daddy and we will leave you!” Sometimes, she will say I am not a member of her family anymore or that I am not her mommy anymore… and that she will call thieves on me! She will find ways to get the words to pierce my heart and break it but this is because she loves me and she doesn’t like that sometimes her bubble gets burst with disappointments.

She gives me presents
When going to church, she will always run to her favorite tree along the way and pick lots of flowers. She will then arrange them in my hair and still keep some for herself. She shares her snacks with me and promises to buy me nice stuff when she gets money one day. I know she means it and if she could gift me, she truly would.

When I come home from work each day, she will jump all over me, excited to see me, then sit on my lap and show me all the wounds on her body, new and dried. After complaining that I never gave her a hug when I left in the morning, which I would have done except she was still asleep, she would then check behind my ears and under my nails for dirt and try to cut my long nails. I love my little girl and I love that I rock her world so much. Share your bit too if you believe your child loves you crazily.

He quits, I step up…Thumb rule

If you are the kind of person who would marry someone mainly because of what they have or what they do for a living, then you should read this…twice even, because chances are that this part of life will test you…like a cheetah would pounce on an antelope’s ass if it misses the neck; it will catch up with you and your commitment to one another will surely be tested. Trust me, it happened to my mother, nineteen years after she and my father got married, luckily we cannot quite prove if she could have walked out if it had happened sooner…gladly, we shall never tell.


Life always seems easy when everything is smooth and easy. It all seems like all you need is to plan and live; but it’s never really been that smooth. If you and your spouse work for the government, then the security of your employment in the city is definitely on the high and your main financial concerns would be when you are getting paid and how to earn more; worst case scenario would be termination of employments which hardly anyone prepares for. In the private sector where most of us fall under it is different. One has no idea how long your job will last or how soon you could find one.

So what happens when your spouse says he wants to quit work? my husband came home one day and said he had had enough. He worked for a middle class company that underpaid and overworked…well, don’t we all love to use that statement! It was hard to understand him. I mean, as the head of the house, how would he expect us to live just because he didn’t feel like working anymore? I didn’t take it well and instead told him he had no choice but to push on. “You know we need the money,” was my stern warning and each day I told him that, he grew pale and dull, losing his motivation for life and hardly enjoying anything. He soon was mostly staying in the house and would tell me to visit friends alone or with Pesh. When I insisted that he comes along, he would but was the most boring company I ever had. Sadly, I didn’t realize what had instigated the change and resolved to believe I just had a super quiet hubby stuck with me till the end of time.

He came home one day his facing hanging barely above his shoes. “I hate my job; I hate my life and I hate the career path I chose. Mine is the worst industry I ever chose” were the words that came out of his mouth. Mine dropped in awe too. I asked what had happened and he gave me the same reasons he had before. This time however, he seemed overwhelmed and broken. It was as though he was condemned to live a damned life simply because he was married and had a family. Crap! it seemed like he was being punished for having a family! I was overwhelmed with sadness and even as he looked on in despair, I could not help but wish to take it all away. “Quit.” I told him. “Come home to me. Stay home, rest and let’s forget that sad excuse of a job.” He seemed more afraid than impressed. “What about…” “Forget the money. We are just letting one leg go,” I calmed him down. “It doesn’t mean, that if we limp we will not move; we will just be slow but moving either way,” he smiled, for the first time in a long while and seeing the hope in his eyes once more was enough to believe we would survive.

Sometimes, you just need to decide to always put your spouse first. Its always more about what money does or doesn’t do and not just its presence.For me, I chose to have my husband with me and happy rather than working and miserable. It was not a tough decision to make as we are joined at the hip. Just because we limp doesn’t make us stagnant.

Stick to your marriage- Both-Feet-In

Welcome to the 21st century; the times when we are liberal as we call it. We welcome evil deeds and society accepts pretty much anything and everything we goad. Married women and men cheat openly; in fact, they use their wedding bands to be a magnet for the mpango wa kando, promising no strings are truly attached. In-laws still want to be in command of marriages and go as far as ganging up to ‘Chase away the evil wife and bring in the nice one’. They still will stab you in the back and refuse to speak to you if you will not listen to their proposals. Wives are refusing to get pregnant for fear that their marriage may not last; and some are still foolishly fighting with their in-laws. Young men are still chasing me on Facebook asking me to stop pretending to be faithful to my husband…haha. Its funny the only thing that remains consecrated is the little dream of making a home and even this lies entangled in libel, mistrust, infidelity and selfishness.

I have tried to sit and have conversations with different types of people and very few do not annoy me. I go back home with more questions than answers and wonder what exactly happened to us. Where are our forefathers? Is God watching and taking in our thoughts and actions politely? Will he finally lose his patience and send angels to do away with us? We do not fear laws or even God anymore. We beat our chests and praise our egos, we declare ourselves the most intelligent of all yet when we give ourselves a chance to see what we really are like through the eyes of others, we will realise we are wasting the beautiful gift of life God gave us.

Men love independent women…but too much independence can render them useless to a woman. God was not being unfair when he said we women should be submissive; being the neck of the house, it is your duty to balance the body being your family. Your husband needs you to support him, not be his critic. You need to reassure your man that you will always be there for him no matter what happens. You may be the supporter of the brains, but that does not mean the neck has no neurons or nerves. As the wife, you need to push the brain to where the body is comfortable. Turn the head to better budgeting and planning finances, to seeing new opportunities, to identifying bad friends and influences, to letting your husband take all the credit for it. Yes, that is the beginning of being unselfish.

marriage pic
Did it ever occur to you than when you praise your husband he will praise you back? Think about it. You build a house together; he pays all the money but you give all the ideas. Now when you go around telling everyone how if it were not for you that house would have looked horrendous, you might as well forget about having your name on that piece of beauty. When you instead tell everyone your man is the brains and built you a glorious house, he would not mind sharing it with someone who is humble and selfless. Is that too much to ask?

Women love material things, even if we are the ones buying them ourselves. Who doesn’t want to be spotted in a flashy pair of heels, a handbag and nice make up? Now as a man, sometimes your ego or pride will lie to you to think that we dress up to look good for other men out there. We don’t… well apart from those sisters who obviously shout away for sexual attention. So when you marry a woman, why would you want to do away with what attracted you to her? Is it the fear that another man may see the same thing and steal her away from you? Are you in short saying you do not trust that she loves you and only you? have you ever been tempted to make her less attractive? Or decided to get another lady to give her competition just so they both fight for your attention? In this way, if I may ask? Are you fulfilling God’s request to love, care for and protect your wife as you would the church or your faith? Do you enjoy seeing women fight for you and kill each other over you? Is that the same reason you would beat her up? Let me not get into the domestic war subject, I mean you still haven’t made me understand why you would fight someone who will never fight back; unless she, well, poisons your food…you trust her cooking yet you hurt her:) Let’s skip this topic.

This is my quest today. If you take away your marriage certificate or your visit to the AG; if you take away all the affidavits and that wedding band…would you still stick faithfully to your partner? A friend made me lack sleep thinking about it and I did think a lot about it. This was my conclusion; we get affidavits for marital security, in case you have shared properties and children… and of course relatives who may pounce on them should anything happen to you. We go to the AG to unionize a marriage, for those of us who do not like to show the world which human being it is you chose to share your life with and prefer to keep it private. The reason for the AG also has a bit of marriage security in it and bit of ‘Let’s shut up our parents’ demands’ it’s good enough though. Weddings are the ultimate way to do it. You show the world it’s him you chose and vow before the most supreme high to follow his orders on marriage…yet when trouble looms you want out already. Do you know the Bible says even after a divorce you are not allowed to remarry unless your spouse dies? Yes, I was pleasantly surprised to find that out. It is till death; not boredom, infidelity, in laws, fights, domestic violence or cash flow.

Here is my challenge to you. Work towards making your marriage work. Look at your spouse as your choice in life because that is your choice in life. With or without that paper of proof, no one forced you to love him/her. You felt it and you chose to pursue your feelings. Strive to remain blameless in your marriage. Do your part to love, cherish and be your spouse’s closest ally, always reminding them that they are the best gift to this world and to your life. Don’t make the world hate your spouse; instead, influence them to be their best. Be their positive influence and their friend when they do not need wifely counsel. Let them be the ones to deal with your in-laws, but never strive to separate his family. Put both your feet in. If you are constantly thinking or threatening to leave, they will plan their future without you in it knowing you may just walk away one day. It is up to you to reassure your spouse that you love them that much.

Your relationship was your choice in the first place. Be decisive and learn to enjoy your marriage everyday.