I don’t who needs to hear this but… stop neglecting your dustbin.

By the way why is a dustbin called a dustbin whereas it holds more dirt than dust?

Let’s re-assess your habit resume; spreading the bed-check, brushing your teeth-check, cleaning the house- check, cook food and cleaning dishes- check. Emptying your dustbin after overloading it with cartons, stale fruit, empty bottles, last snippets of soap, broken glass- no check.

We promise our dustbins the world and never fulfill our promises. We say to it,”Soon as am back from church,I’ll empty you.”

The dustbin awaits your return. It is hopeful that the word of God will seep right through you and finally you will act accordingly. You come back four hours later with a shopping bag in your hands, a thorough assessment of the contents inside reveal a bunch of bananas, 3 mangoes, 2 apples, kale which you place on the kitchen counter. You peel off the fruits and slice them to make fruit pudding. The peelings end up in the dustbin, which is looking at you with puppy eyes only for you to end up saying ,”lemme first eat the pudding then I’ll empty the bin later.”

The dustbin looks at you and how you have changed in unsettling ways. When you first met, it was love at first sight, like something out of a romantic movie, you said, “Aki, nimefall in love with this dustbin . It’s so cute, am buying it. And I will always take care of it.”. Now, it can’t even recognize the person you’ve become.

Then Monday morning comes, you are blasting this song through your speakers; Oh you don’t have to worry and you don’t have to be afraid, joy comes in the morning, trouble don’t last always. There you go again giving mixed signals to the bin. It watches you clean up, dress up and repeat your mantra, “Oh nikirudi nitacome ku-empty.”

Karma is coming for you. This is what is going to happen during your day; people not replying to your texts after they promised they will, people forgetting to call you back, people forgetting to give back the jacket they borrowed and you are going to sit and wonder, “Why do people keep forgetting about me and my stuff.” Aha!That’s karma right there.

You need to hear this, your house hold items got feelings too and you hurt them every time you don’t commit to your responsibility. Especially that heap of dirty clothes you promised to wash. Matter of fact, the clothes in your briefcase you promised to fold and arrange neatly (rich people with them closets can’t relate).

This is a bit personal, but you have to read on the blogs and watch you tube channels of your friends, like you promised.

And while we are at it before the day is over, EMPTY THAT BIN BROTHER/SISTER.


Wait… did I firmly shut my gas cooker and turn off my water tap?

We all have our fears. Some of us fear death, others running into their vengeful ex (they did not take it too kindly when you smashed their phone to the wall), others fear heights, or sinking into the Bermuda triangle while you are on a cruise ship (no-one’s ever been found)

Some of these fears are short term or long term. They hunt our thoughts like a lion hunts for deer.

My fear is actually a thought. Don’t be quick to dismiss it , you might find we have the same irrational fear and if so, we could form a support group.

Of all the things I could fear in life; child labor, dreams not coming true, being eaten by a bear, spiders, all reptile family, here is what taunts my mind. The fear that I probably did not firmly shut the burner on my gas cooker and there is soon going to be a chaotic combustion.

The fear comes to me in the weirdest of places, while I take a shower, while I prepare to leave to the house, while I have actually left the house. While am done the last staircase of the apartments . Normally I ran into my neighbor who is kind with the greetings.

“Hey Hinga,” she greets.

“Hey me,” I quickly respond.

“I have been meaning to ask, where did you buy those curtains?”

Profound question. Others in this case would presume that a query on curtains means they are about to be robbed, but not me. Mentioning the curtains only reminds me of how close they are to the gas and oh My God, did I firmly turn it off?

A text alerts on my phone soon as I have waved my kind neighbor goodbye. It reads; Guurl have you seen Sauti Sol’s new jam, it is on fire.

Did she just say , it is on fire. Perfect. It is just the perfect day to reference the word fire.

Sometimes while I sleep late at night worry that I might wake up to fumes of gas and escaped oxygen. Another of my fears is water flood due to tap neglect. I always imagine getting a call from the caretaker while miles away. It goes something like,

“Ms Hinga, hello, I don’t suppose you’ve read the memo I left by the gate about water rationing.(I say i have seen it) Tell me Hinga, what is the 5th code of the tenant agreement… that’s right, always ensure you tap is firmly shut before you exit the house.”

I really do have an imaginative mind. Because sometimes I envision the neglected tap water may flood my apartment and the flood will bring with it mermaids and mermans. They will then re-enact a scene from my hidden script, “The Tale of The Mermaids and Mermans.” In the script the kingdom of the mermaids and mermans is at destruction because the king ordered an execution of any sea creature practicing magic.( I really need to stop watching sci-fi)

Anyway where were we ?yes, fear of gas combustion and flood due to tap neglect. I cannot get rid of it, even now as I type, the thought is embedded in my mind.

What irrational fears do you have?

My dad and his love for calves and bananas

“Shao morning,” My 16 month old nephew greets the two calves in their vault. They are aged 3 and 2 months.

    The calves having been serving cuteness since their birth. Standing there with big innocent eyes, a splatter of pink on their noses, and their fur- a perfect rendition of black and white together in harmony. Too soon? They haven’t got names yet, we figured calf was enough an identity until they met their chief caretaker-my dad who will then gift them a name that befits them.

       The boy calf cares less about being a good citizen. He is stiflingly catastrophic and it is predictable that there’s a macabre of things the boy will do in his wake. He has to be shackled with a rope right above his calf hoof before they step out of their vaults to go bask in the advancing sun, while he veers towards the serene green grass he loses his calm (pretense calm) and gets all jumpy like a young maasai Moran during a dance battle. He will also try hitting young trees with his 3 month old head. I see the young trees playing back by bouncing back on him and hitting him, he doesn’t like it. He’s likes to the wrong doer not the wronged. So he keeps fighting back even after he is meters away from the young tree which continues to sway-ripples of the wind but that is unknown intellect to the young prince.   

          His sister is poise and nonchalant. I call them brother and sister because they stem from the same father, artificial insemination, plus they kinda look alike so…

The girl calf is a good calf. Her mother must be delivering a character and self-love spiel in her talks of the today woman because that little girl is pure ivory. I think the conversation happens somewhere between the cow language of moo! Which we evolved humans can’t decode.

Moo,” The mama cow tells her daughter [Let’s harmonize the routine together baby]

“Mooooooooooo,” they say together [Don’t forget to pray when you wake up. Always lick your fur early in the morning.  Be kind to all, even the humans. ]

“Good girl.” The mama cow says pleased.

I can tell the girl calf has dreams and aspirations of being a good calf when she grows up. She is calm like Buddhist until she sees her brother running wild and having fun. Oh brothers! She throws caution to the wind and rejoices in the newly found freedom.

      With this lock down my father has been reduced and subdued to only seeing the calves on whats’app through photos I send him. He had gone back to Nairobi for work unaware of the brewing storm of COVID-19 that would cause a lock down and him unable to see his soon to be born calves. Obviously for the intolerably state of being we blame president Uhuru, not the disease rummaging our streets threatening to claim lives. No. It’s all on Uhuru. If we had the might (the will is already in place) we’d grab his shirtsleeve, whisper some few bible verses and brutalize him into opening the gates of normalcy.

To lift my dad’s moods up, I let my nephew (ngarana/his namesake) converse with him over the phone. He is quite the little charmer.

“U-a,” little Hinga says. He still can’t say guka properly, reason- being a kid and all.

“Yes,” my dad jovially participates.

“Shao,” [the calves]

“Gashao,” my dad says back attempting to get him to correctly pronounce the noun, “kuhana atia?” By this time my nephew is ogling at the birds. His attention has shifted in milliseconds. Kids and their loooong attention span.

“Noni,” there he goes again attempting to say nyoni (birds). My dad goes back and forth with a plethora of kikuyu words that he wants the young champ to attempt. He cackles with humor as the little boy engages his tongue and his four teeth. Little Hinga has also accustomed to the culture of pacing while on a phone call, sometimes he drums the wall with his tiny fingers as he says “eh, eh, eh.” I always have to follow him while he roams around to watch him and my phone, one because I don’t want it falling and sustaining new cracks two, because this is the only way I get blogging material. Am a stalker with a justified cause.

  Somewhere along the talk my nephew will say: ndithi. And it will remind my dad of his banana plants, the already planted and those that were about to be planted. At this point he will tell young Hinga to hand over the phone to me. We will talk about the bananas and he will ask me to send some photos, a task I have somehow come to love and do with efficiency.

      He hardly asks about the potatoes, or the corn, or the Napier grass and I suspect they feel unloved. So I try to whisper positive affirmations into their plant ears in the hope that my words can replace the feeling of inadequacy. All thanks to YouTube motivation, my vocabulary on empowerment is on point. I often tell the plants: You must clap for yourself even when others don’t. It is in these trying times that legends are created, if it was easy every plant would do it.

       See once my dad once bought and planted 100 banana plants on a new farm that he had bought. The majority of them bloomed because he has the Midas touch. Every banana plant he touches blooms because he understands banana tree language. He feels their souls, he lends a listening ear when they talk about their troubles (heartbreaks from girls banana plants and the birds who pee on them. Stop it birds.) He is not one of those people who try to outdo anyone by upping his struggle. Thoughtful is an adjective that best sums my dad. It must be why he’s a people and plant magnet. Because we all have struggles and we need someone who listens without the half-assed-listening and pain shaming .

I wonder what name my father will parcel this two calves. I know for a fact he will borrow from our Kikuyu names because he is a man who hold high his rich Kikuyu roots. Should he want an English or Swahili alternative, am suggesting ,Brayo, for that boy calf. A naughty boy who is joyous of his run-ins with the law, and who doesn’t do much for his own good.

The meme de jour of our time

One of the highlight reel life of our time is the concept of self love. Granted that self love entails accepting your flaws and perfections, the edges and the rounds, the highs and the lows, in poverty and riches, in your health and sickness. (It’s beginning to sound like wedding vows).

Normally woke terms are often transient in their nature, but I feel like self-love is one bad ass concept that is pungent. It is here to stay. And we must welcome our stayee guest by talking about her (don’t judge).

There’s a thin line between self love and self absorption/self centredness/ narcissism/el narcisismo and as it turns out, not only has that line been wrecked but has also been crossed. I hereby deputize myself to rant about it not because am a consummate genius at it but because I have kinda struggled with it. And when I say kinda I mean like aloooot. It’s in a moment of insidious despair, I realized that I wasn’t that terrible at it, my onlookers were faulty with the expectation.

The measure of best loving your self has often been trapped under the narrative of unhealthily overestimating your own self-importance. Telling your story in a way that puts a halo in your every action while completely downplaying everyone else’s IQ, job, character, ideologies, and choices.

Personal values and personal preferences shouldn’t be the marking scheme we use to judge other people values and preferences. If being verbal about your problems is your form of self-love don’t force it down everybody’s throats, some people like to meditate when in distress. Also, there is no need to have imploding rage for days when you encounter people who don’t express love like you do.

Here’s a heretical thought: Your version of self love is someone else’s version of self poisoning. Let me paint a clearer picture, if treating yourself to cold glasses of beer, or eating pizza is your version of self love, someone else could argue that in a few years your “self love” will bring about health implications.

I harmonize with the idea of believing in your uniqueness and in yourself. Am fascinated by beings who look within themselves because that’s where the treasure is. However, finding your greatness doesn’t authorize anyone to belittle the potential of others.

The nails that bound the bed of self-love include self-respect. (P.S respect is earned not demanded). Actual competency in handling our emotions, being accountable for our thoughts and actions, understanding other people, and maxing out our potential.

Self love is not self centredness. Kujipenda sio kujiona.



Please let me know in the comments what you think of my article, don’t be shy . I appreciate you a lot for reading.

#zerotohero #blogger

Infamous advice after a heartbreak

When we fall in love we carry with us this cardinal hope- to last forever with our partner and achieve greatness together. There is that requisite prayer that maybe the universe will spare you so maybe you won’t have to go through a five-star rated heart break, like everyone else. One cold morning, your sacred dreams of having someone to love and to hold are shattered with a tersely worded text that reads: I don’t feel the same anymore, blah! Blah! Blah!

Heart breaks are inevitable. And the new reality of modern love is that we no longer want to fix something that isn’t working, we want to throw it away. We want an irreplaceable love story but quickly replace lovers. We purr on our stimulus’s, wanting instant gratification for our appetite and our partners.

There’s that infamous saying granted to a bleeding heart- the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Following this advice could land you into the hands of a hormone-crazed boy or girl, and you might end up right where you started- with a broken heart. Jumping into new relationship is barely the golden ticket it has been presented to be .

Let’s contravene this ideology that has been reiterated so many times to the point that people actually embody it. Sure, some people have succeeded through its cracks but what are the chances that the vast majority of relationships will thrive on dumb luck. Very minimal.

The most potent tool in maintaining a relationship quo is first being in a good place yourself- at least emotionally and psychologically. Two people with unresolved emotional issues often make for a painstaking love ride. You can’t conjure up being a good partner out of thin air /in a few minutes and offer it to your new partner. Some things require that we take serene time to self-analyze, review our behavior patterns, realize our personal traumas and we how can heal them before we let innocent souls back in our lives.

Carl Jung famously said ,”Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.” The war against our demons is won after we realize ourselves not when we hide under societal narratives. Some of them are horribly wrong and our lives could go horribly wrong if we pursue them.

We should normalize dissuading people from pursuing certain courses of action if they are not in the right space for it. No, it’s not normal to jump into three different relationships in a month. Devote yourself into finding a solution to your emptiness instead of seeking the dubious idolatry of being sexually satisfied.

The relentless bombardment with messages from friends and onlookers meant to morph us into ‘tough guy’ or ‘bad girl’ to generate jealousy from our exes doesn’t help you, it only hurts you. You hardly will be fulfilled as you try to live up to a certain facade .

Happiness comes from within, no-one can give it to you. So stop rushing to someone’s arms else rush to your heart.

Oops! I did it again.

(Cue in clapping) I admire myself and my ability to re-live situations. You would think the scars I have shoulda taught me something… well they have, and against my better judgement I find myself committing these crimes, time and again.

It’s not that I take pride in this flawed pattern of behavior, no, I actually reprimand myself. I look myself in the mirror and be like, “girl no, aim higher!”

I still get into mind tangles every time I go off the rails of my ethical guidelines. It goes something like, “Hinga, on the count of three divert from walking into the bakery. No, no, no, you said one cookie yesterday and the day before that. Stop justifying today as the last day.” Somehow still I end up buying something from the bakery.

We have all taken a plunge into something, swearing off a situation and ending right back in the middle of it. But we hope to be different tomorrow dearly wishing our uncivilized side will have departed. It doesn’t.

One process that we boldly swear off and swim right back is through – PROCRASTINATION. I have to address this because- how many times do you buff your mirror with a cloth, smile back at the person staring at you, then you outline the chores for the day only to end up doing just one thing. And that one thing is watching a complete series. Suddenly- (after one month) the class assignment is due and you ain’t written a damn thing. You haven’t even outlined the hypothesis of your topic.

What’s even worse is you procrastinate every semester for 4 years.

There is an urban saying that goes, “Borrowing money is easy but paying back is a task.” Yeah I know this one all too well. I have been on both ends- the borrower and the borrowed. Neither side of the see-saw is good, I’ll tell you that much.

You ever borrowed someone some money and they referenced you as the reason they ain’t billionaires yet. Like c’mon it was 5 minutes ago.

These comments hurt your ego and you swear you will make it in your career in about two weeks and everyone who treated you like trash is gonna regret it. Two weeks come and go… the money problems come and stay(these problems never go)…You are not yet the millionaire you’d hoped, so you have to ask for financial support again.

It is extra-hard when you have to lend money back to people who never pay back on time and require a court subpoena to give back what they owe you. Some things should be common sense. The fundamental policy of borrowing is respecting a deadline.

Street philosophers before us have written and said quotes that are world sensational. One famous word is, “Stay out of two people business.”Polemical articles by experts have been written about it. Even a 2 month old baby knows it- the last time they cried while papa and mama were fighting they did not get picked up or soothed. Everybody knows.

Not you. Something inside tells you you are a freelancer in life, you abide not to the rules. As the god/goddess of love you are, you unflinchingly dive your nose in to their distraught love affair.

One at a time, you take strolls by the park with them. Each telling you a different version of events and you advice accordingly. Months later, a story resurfaces- you were the villain trying to break them apart.

You question your involvement and vow to never be the third wheel in a partnership before. The universe honors your wish for a while then boom one of your crew’s member relationship start to fall apart, all logic warns you against engaging. Then again you can’t suppress the urge of not helping your friend, so you ask: what happened?. Three hours later you are up to date with every detail and are taking sides . Middle through the arguments, you sense it, how all this is gonna come to bite you back.

To call this insane is charitable. The hitch here is that we can’t seem to show restraint even after failing on the first lesson. In reality and imagination we repeat patterns unconsciously and they lead us back to the same loop.

To transition from this state we have to change from inside out. Observe yourself as you carry out your activities and find your triggers. Check how you spend your money , limit your expenditure that way you probably won’t need to keep borrowing funds. Stay away from things that don’t concern you and plan ahead – teach your mind and body to stick to laid activities. With time it becomes a habit.

Lessons about life from a grandiose millennial who is making a living through string art

 This post will probably find you while you are stuck in some forest somewhere, or you have just climbed out of bed to get a better view of the article and an encephalitis laden mosquito has just spotted your blood vessel and is coming for you (no, auntie stay under the covers and tuck in the net, don’t let that mosquito make you a statistic, you know, ‘people suffering from malaria’) or your are asking the question every celestial being before you has asked, “Is this all there is to life or is there something else.”

The frustrations of life are seething. Characterized by tumultuous circumstances such as; heart breaks, jobless years, being abandoned by the father/mother of your child, it is easy to think that all possible joy coming your way has been substituted with horror.

There is a way around this quandary. It’s probably not sending the 54th message to you ex or locking you door whenever you see the land lord but there is a way in this maze called life.

Meet a grandiose millennial by the name Paskaline Jebet who’s doing pretty well in her life. And by Pretty good I mean she has learned to master her drawing craft. She is the director East Africa Kids Fashion and Chief Editor East Africa Kids Fashion Magazine launched in April 2019. She has been featured in various high fashion Runways like Kenya Fashion Awards, Diaspora Fashion Show, Darling Kenya Fashion Show, Mcensal School Fashion Show, and she was also a finalist Miss Universe Kenya 2018. Her art was also exhibited at Clever Gallery Exhibition, the 4th Edition where she met the honorary Esther Passaris who was stupendous about her work. The event was later on highlighted on KTN news. She has also been featured on KTN artistic Tuesday where did a live drawing. Her work has also been featured on Mahanjam Show, MBCI TV, and Skani la Sanaa.

As someone who is starting out, meeting her made me realize I could pocket a few lesions from her and I hope you will too.

  1. Let somebody teach you, what you don’t know. As sentient beings we have the capacity to flourish, and we seek out ways to help get to our dreams. We shouldn’t be way in our heads and think we have it all figured out, let the experienced and masters help you.

Miss Jebet attended a master class on string art and learned to draw in about three days.

2. Use whatever little thing you have to get you started.

Her first craft came from cutting her success cards and weaving mosaic beads into them.

3. Channel your pain elsewhere.

Problems are inevitable, it’s also one of the things we humans have in common. Paskaline once suffered a heartbreak and that propelled her to work even harder in her artwork.

There is gold in the mine of pain, our inner genius get woken up in the face of troubles. Channel your pain into something productive.

4. Drop the exclusivity act.

The idea that sprung out of a special garden and can’t associate with those of a certain caliber is so old fashioned .

I remained awed by Jebet’s humility despite the ounces of success she gets. When we arrived at her art gala, she was quickly approached us and introduced herself. Her smile never left her face as she talked us through her artwork. We were neither buyers nor investors but still she treated with utmost respect.

5. Create it and get it out there.

From the apps, to the roads,to art, to medicine, all this are human accomplishments not birthrights given to them by the universe.

If you would like something to exist; an ideology, an app, a book, a reform policy, you have to create it and get it out there.

Natural skepticism towards information

Once upon a time, there was power in being informed. People trusted in the people who spent years in school to prescribe them medicine, a lot of the people who led in the government were naturally born leaders or they had acquired their knowledge through books. We trusted them all the same.

Then came a dreadful period. Where we could no longer trust the professionals; teachers became pedophiles, doctors left tools in our bodies after operations, the pastors were preying on our heartbroken women. Business men conned us to add to their monopolies of wealth. The government taxed its citizens, and from a financial standpoint, they became poorer and the government richer.

With this kind of after math, it became official; we had to be skeptical of everyone and what they do.

I was perplexed when news about the discovery of products(flour and peanut butter) with toxins were being sold and consumed by the innocent masses and therefore the call to action was calling this products off the market. It was even more aggravating when those I live close by to, claimed that it was probably a hoax from the government. I know our trust in the governing body is fractured but it had not occurred to me to doubt them on this.

Insofar, certain circumstances have ruptured the connection we had from a body we trusted like all the monies that go missing . The public should have trust in a body it elected, and the government should fight to preserve a modicum of trust with its people.

Currently, any information copulated to the masses is treated like a conspire theory. What once flourished as facts is treated like basic assumptions . Faith in humanity has become so expensive, we don’t trust anyone to do anything , get this- out of the goodness of their hearts. (scoff) like that’s possible.

We treat people people who preach about hope in love, marriage, behavior of humans, like you would treat a patient with degenerative disease. With pity eyes and dire hope that they will get better.

“Oh she believes in marriage can work, aaww cute but I hope she wakes up from this delusion.”

I have heard people say that the reasons marriages don’t work these days is because people are too informed. It worked better if people knew little of what awaited them on the other end. Puh- leaze! does it get better for a nation if we are ignorant of how HIV/AIDS is contacted and transmitted? Does it get better when you ignore the lump on your breast. No it doesn’t, it only prolongs the inevitable. Being aware helps us make informed decisions.

The skepticism towards information is not baseless, it comes from a series misuse and abuse of power, neglect from those we trust, un-standardized information, all backed with facts.

Burying the seed of doubt relies on accountability. Self inflicted or enforced with a code or laws that govern a nation, that every one is charged with the duty of being accountable for their actions.

Information is not the enemy, those who hold it, replace some truth parts with lies, use it as an ideological weapon , might be.

I swear, some people can make you feel like you are a D student applying to Harvard.

It is a prime practice that, after a win as human beings we like to have celebratory chants and dances in recognition to the milestones we have bested. It is even tens-fold better if humans (strangers or the known) can party with us as we love the day away. Good results have a way of metamorphosing our frowns into smiles but you know what isn’t? That smile being washed away because we were made to feel inadequate.

There are situations in life where circumstances or people can make us feel like we are D students applying to Harvard University. P.S Harvard accepts nothing short of a genius.  

 Now there has been events, that make us feel in-genius, one such event is a heart break. When we fall in love, we disregard talks of how it didn’t work for others and proceed to imagine ways it will miraculously work for us. After all, our actions will be different from those who have tried this partnership before. Innocently, we love with all of our hearts, never stopping to question anything that doesn’t add up, then one morning our joy is stolen. The lipstick on his shirt, the receipts in his pocket, the tall muscular man she calls her third cousin, and you sit there and wonder, “how could I have never guessed it?, it was right there in my face.”

Then a series of self doubt and pain follows, and you vow to never let another person make you feel so stupid. Love is stupid and you want no affiliation, because the  last time you fell in love, the aftermath made you feel like you were a D student applying to Harvard.

By the way, anyone thinking of hanging out with a self-actualized person, yeah, people who know the ins and outs of their higher and lower mind, people who use their quiet time in meditation as that helps them recognize their scattered thoughts and they can then re-arrange them in order of importance, let me give you a heads-up, its going to be educative but at first, realizing that all this time you knew little of yourself, and that your own thoughts have been your enemy, will hit you like a detonated bomb. 

Whether we know it or not, like it or not, admit it or not, we spend a huge amount of time talking to ourselves.  Alone in the washroom, taking a bath, reading, the words we use on ourselves can hurt us. A self-defeating monologue looks something like this, “am not smart enough,” “Am stupid,” “Its never going to work out for me,”. It’s not healthy.  Our own thoughts can make us feel unqualified, like we are D students applying to the one of the most prestigious universities in the world. 

It would not be life if we did not have somebody reminding us of how other people are waaaay better than us.

‘oh so you wanna have a career in rap, I legit think the only amazing rapper in the world is X(X being anyone who you think is a awesome rapper.). No-one can ever top that.”

They are subtly suggesting that it isn’t going to work out boo-boo. Hurtful, I think. Its funny how in people’s eyes actually that they can never be anyone who is good enough for anything.

(A dark skin exists)

Critiques: You are too dark for modelling. 

 (A light skin exists)

Critiques: Why always a lighter skinned girl? Let’s give to a dark skinned one.

There is forever going to be people who think we are not good enough for success, just don’t that person be yourself. Choice of words from people who may not like, even defeat can often make one question their competence, their character , like you don’t belong. Like you are a D student applying to Harvard. Your never going to get in. It for the chosen few. 

This is not a counselling session, it’s a,,, okay you got me. But I have got a valid point, of all the people who come after us, tearing us to the ground, don’t do it to yourself. Don’t  let current circumstances make you feel in-genius  and not qualified.

A moment of prayer to anyone who blocked our contact or just anywhere.

Eyes dancing, our glasses filled with whatever we are drinking, we are wearing the party mood but most of all we are making friends. There’s a mindless chatter rising and you can almost hear the voice of beautiful girl on the other end of the dance floor tending to her phone. Her words are characterized by regret. She implores,

“Hello, ebu sema tena, sikuskii. Nasemaa, sikuskii. Hello,”

(Hello, I can’t hear. I cant hear you. Hello)

We don’t know who that is, could be her mom, her boyfriend, roommate, and really it’s none of our business. We shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

“Ahh, Stella, imagine ameniblock. Natry kumkol back na hachukui,” she tells her friend.

We seriously should not be eavesdropping.

I have been there, you’ve been there. Blocked-zone. It cuts like a two-edged knife but …. no matter.

How many days has it been huh, 708 days, 200 days, 3 hours? How does it feel? Does it bring you joy? Moments shared thrown to wind just like that… no matter.

So dear brothers and sisters we are gathered here to celebrate the blocking. A moment of prayer to anyone who downloaded the true caller app so that they could block us in the texts, calls and everywhere. Our thoughts and prayers goes to everyone who thought they could live without our sassy memes we post on our status walls.

Brethren, it was not a good idea. Let not haste emotions dictate our future endevours, call me and we will talk this through.

A moment of prayer to anyone who tripped over the dirty dishes, fell into the bucket of dirty water, got a crack on their screens, got hit on the shoulder by the neighbors window(Which is always open on a 45 degree angle), almost hit the five year old toddler who is always playing by the corridor, while in a rush. You were trying to get to the shop to purchase yourself some airtime, then buy a huge chunk of bundle which you will later use to block us on every social media platform. Seven extra minutes of prayer if you used a different account to stalk us.

A moment of silence to anyone who blocked us in real life. Won’t talk to us, won’t secretly pay for our lunch when they spot us in the restaurant( well okay you did not do it when we were friends either) know that we wish you the best even though whatever we had, this, this did not work out.

A moment of silence to anyone who hasn’t blocked us yet. The shitty things we post, the silly things we say, for all the times we used your name to get out of bad situations( hopefully you will never know of them.). Here’s one;

“Am really sorry to cut this awesome , totally not boring meeting short but I have to go home and feed my cat. She gets grumpy when not fed on a schedule.”

“I thought you lived alone.” a group member interrogates

“Well, I have to go buy a cat… then buy cat food.. then go feed it on a schedule.” You then pose mid-sentence and then scream,” and the cat’s name will be Wanjiru.” (Sorry Wanjiru)

Why you continue putting up with us is one of the world’s wonders.

A moment of silence for most of us because at one point driven by our emotions we pacely searched through a block button and hit it like life depended on it.

A moment of prayer for anyone who reads this too, comment and tell me what you think of it. Am out here trying to scribble cute and beautiful words for you only. Also you can follow me on my blog to receive posts instantaneously once they are published.


LET’S DO IT … “OR LET’S NOT” with Erica

“Are we doing it again?” she asks stiffly.

“What are we supposedly doing again?” I respond with a question while I cut slices of the freshly green cucumber.

“Doing the green diet thing again…”

I swear sometimes Erica is more judgmental than my writing critics.

“Yes Erica. It is the new proven diet that boosts body performance: a good immunity, good memory, I could go on and on… “

“Please don’t… I simply will not eat it,” she grunts.”Not while Culinary chefs all over the world are mastering the art of blending complementary flavors and making meat be our weakness.”

15 minutes earlier we had visited a nearby market and procured every green and healthy thing out of it. Am talking of green kale, ripe avocados, grown pumpkins; decisions we collectively agreed upon.

“What would you have us eat… my queen?” I say as I frantically bow.

“Lets fry some potatoes, or order in some pizza… you know awesome stuff.”

Erica has always been an adventurous soul while me on the other hand, lacked the fun-gene. Erica is the name I have gifted the sassy, obnoxious, loud, lass in me.

I know its spooky giving a name to the inner you but I figured, if Beyonce gets to label her alter ego Sasha Fierce then by all means, I’ll borrow a line from her book. So my the power bestowed by me I hereby decree and declare that ERICA is the name I gift my alter ego.

Erica consciously refines all that is good into naughty. Has the grandiose notion that ‘there’s no such thing as too much sugar and chocolate.’ In retrospect , she uses wit, charm and mischief to unfold her actions to those close to her.

“Listen, that dish you are preparing is cute but think of them chicken thighs. Sitting behind the counters of chicken Inn, lonely, waiting to be picked. Let’s do something good for the world, let’s go pick them.”

” Oh how I admire people who like to do something good for the world,” (don’t judge my sarcasm towards her attitude).

Hail the queen of good and glory. I tell you, there’s nothing in the clear air or the blue sky that would give anyone the inkling of what she will say next when it comes to defending her quest.

So here I am wedged between picking a dish of plant based diet or … her KFC chicken thighs. But I mustn’t let go of the pain I have endured the last few days. My palette has already gotten used to plant taste. She will not be my ruin and for that I will confidently roar to all that care to listen and say,

“Twende chicken inn,”

After all you only live once. On a side note; blame Erica for all the bad decisions.