INSTANCES THAT PROVE THAT EARTH IS NOT FOR YOU.

One, you make a friends with someone. Similar likes, dislikes, you even hate the same person (now this is a stronger bond than love)You think everything is going gucci, its 2019 you know gucci means good right? You like this person so much that you introduce them to your other friends then boom they start hanging out and not inviting you.

Second, you buy a phone with a good camera, you’re pumped the world is yours for the taking. Superman gat nothing on you. You will win the hearts of strangers. You post a pic on social media and only get two likes. Worse still, I get two readers on my blog posts. My 0.00 friends , you traitors!

Thirdly, your are trying to save money. You’ve watched countless youtube videos on how some of the biggest billionares started. Quotes such as today’s investment is tommorow’s future. So that month you carry homemade lunch to work to save lunch money. Before it’s even ten o’clock you’ve eaten all of it and ordered two mandazis and tea. People who don’t even have a plan to be billionares have better self control and wait till lunch to eat their food. You fall off the train.

Fourthly, is there even a word as fourthly? No? Okay I’ll stop using it. You join a betting clique. These people have never lost, they assure you. Surely their good luck must be stronger than your bad luck. You try, you invest more than you have ever invested in your dreams or a relationship. Lets just leave it at woiiii!

Number five, you try to become a fashion icon. Balenciaga socks damn. A brown highlighter on your skin damn. Drawing them eyebrows good. You post a pic with a trending artsy position then boom you are a meme. A brown highlighter is called Kitengela dust. You live in a classy bedsitter netizens ask,” where is the rest of your house?” You buy followers they unfollow you in the middle of the night. God, where to?

Six, you visit upcountry (ocha) people they chocha you unachocheka ati

“Eh, mheshimiwa is here. Toa kakitu”

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“Eh mhesh! People like you even know the president. I actually saw someone like you in the gazeti. You know am always rooting for you. Nunua kasoda.”

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Such comments virtually place you on cloud nine. You are looking at them with the metaphorical bird’s eye view. You give them money, its not enough. You sell your kidney at the black market. You sell your blood to hospital banks. You please them but still they elect another as their MCA.

I have a friend, Mogonnah is her name and she said if I dont credit her for the title she will hire goons to teach me a lesson. Now that I realize gonnah rhymes with goons. Peace.

“YOUR BODY BELONGS TO THE GOVERNMENT”

I remember we schooled in a primary school where corporal punishment was discipline and not a violation of human rights. Times when kids belonged to the teacher and the goverment. You tell your parent-

“Aki mum leo nilichapwa shule..”

“Eeh wacha mwili ichapwe hio ni ya serikali.” (If your african mother has never told you this, does she even love you?) She responds.

Children were public property. Anyone could whoop your ass as they pleased. You go home crying to your mother and she asks,

“What did you do to be beaten?”

If you are a smart child you get beaten and shut up . If you dare speak out, you are whooped again by your parent.

Now kids are privately owned. You require a permit from the parent to lay a finger on a strand of their hair.

Schools have become a safe haven , a shrine where you can have a parent-child relationship with the teacher. Not long ago the relationship that existed between a teacher and a student was that of a criminal and ICC court.

“Eunice (superficial character) why did you not do the work?”

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Its a rhetorical question . Only those with warrior chests can answer.

“Mwalimu, I was not- ”

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“You was not what? Did I say you can answer back?”

Somewhere near the staffroom there is a tree. Its home to birds who are witnesses to the war thats happening on Eunice’s body. Loud continous screams follow there after. Birds flee from the tree. The sun disappears in fear. Total silence befalls the whole school. Young hearts pound in fear, one of thier own is suffering in the hands of the enemy.

Teachers were feared creatures. You would rather meet a hungry anaconda sleeping on your bed than meet a teacher. If you went to a boarding school then you must have attended church services with them . With all the nigerian movies I had watched I expected fire to burn the church doors before they walked in. After all, they attempted to take our lives every once in a while (through thorough whooping). They were grave sinners.

Sometimes I felt like the motivational speakers who came to inspire the hero in us were in it with the teachers. Their words of affirmation and inspiration seemed like they fueled the teachers to beat the criminal tendencies out of us.

Treason in school was noise making. This act alone could lead you to be branded all sort of names – empty debes, kayamba africa, master of ceremony. This was equivalent to public flogging. Terms such as phlegmatic, introvert , extrovert are modern personality terms. Otherwise an extrovert is just a fancy term for noisemaker.

School was sometimes contradictory to biblical teachings. The bible said that your body is the temple of God while school said your body belongs to the government. Other times when convinient it followed the bible to the letter especially the part about, spare the rod spoil the child. In our school the rod was never spared. Yet after all this beating I have learnt the best life lessons from an empty pocket and a broken heart.

I have heard things that shook me, information that created earth tremors . Information such as,” I bought my teacher a car.” I can only hope that one day I will be as forgiving and generous.

ERICA

“Buy those booted heels,” she goes.

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“Ummh… #mychoices #doingme #shutup don’t tell me what to do.” I interject.

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“Ah wewe your not interesting,” she claps back.

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The nerve of this girl. We are walking down the dusty streets of Thika and she can’t even remind me to buy food but the shoes… she remembers.

You would think basic needs would be neccessities but not to Erica, she has not her priorities in order.

I look around for the boots, yes I spot them; gray in colour, inched ,a zip on the side, fluffy neck and homegirl is right- they are fabulous.

Erica is the reason I will not be a billionare anytime soon, that and the fact that blogs require readership. Yes those two factors weigh equally and poorly on my lifetime scale. Before I can reflect much on my choices her mouth alarm goes on-

“Okay, we don’t have to buy let’s go see,” oh reasonable Erica.

Wait , we have been in this ship before. I dont even know how to swim but yet I let her give me a lift on her boat. By the way, we have never just seen a product we always buy.

Erica is the inner rugged chick in me. She loves to breakdance, eat pizza, rap some songs, lowkey wants to buy booted heels, leather jacket, a cap and walk around stringing a guitar. My , she is so amazing.

“Erica, not today woman. I have had enough of your guitar and rap cover songs. I want to save and invest for my bright future #billionarethings. So no, I won’t go and ‘see’ ” I cut her bad plans short.

Few minutes later.

Boom!

I say,” Aki si this boots look good. I can’t imagine my life without them. Waah heri hivo nimenunua.”

We all have an erica in our lives just check closely.

THERE ARE 3 TYPES OF PARENTS.

Bear with me.

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So the kid comes in and says-

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“Mummy I am sick”

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The first kind of parent is unbothered. If your walking , breathing , bending , how are you sick? This kind of parent does not associate with hospitals . Medicine and the parent -two different whatsapp groups. The kid will moan and groan and still , no hospital. If there is ever a time to go to a hospital, is when one is unconscious, or being pulled in a stretcher or difficulty in breathing.

The second parent missed 0.00001 points to join medical school. Their hearts were not broken rather they use the gifts in a different way. Paracetamol for every disease, or in some cases drink boiled water or eat greens on the spot. All diseases; tuberculosis, bloated stomach,PMS, malaria there is a universal cure.

The conversation goes something like

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“Mum I just fall off the bicycle”

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“Oh my baby, take paracetamol.”

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“Hi mum, I just fell off the plane.”

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“Don’t worry hunny, just eat greens.”

Greens are not miraculous they will not work in seconds. But to all parents doing this, big up manze , your trying.

The third parent even a sneeze they will ask, is there a specialized doctor on sneezing. They will call anybody they know who owns a car and ask them to prepare incase the condition worsens. For a stomache resulting from bad food they will require an xray, a blood sample and fingerprints. They will take thier kids for ear check up, teeth check up, tongue check up, re-check up. They have a personal doctor AKA daktari give me your number I will call you and tell you the progress. Mind you this a public sector doctor.

The question is what kind of a parent will you be?

Mimi kwanza when I sneeze, chewooh! I start updating status ati, its been fun the short time I have spent here on earth, plan out an eulogy and say that I appreciate those who were there for me. Yes I’m one overgrown baby and thankyou my friends I appreciate you.

THE MODERN FATE OF LOVE AND BELONGING.

Is it a wonder that the modern love crumbles like bread after a few days?

Technology and education are two partners that have changed alot of fields immensely ;labour, minds and love is inescapable from the beaks of change. Throughout history change has been a good thing, there was a time one would have been hunged for what beliefs they shared , Catholic or protestant , now man is judged not but what they believe but what their action say. Change is a good thing whether gradual or fast, it remains a value that has engineered development socialy, environmentaly, politicaly and economicaly.

When it comes to love change has left the least to be desired. Narcissists who feel the need to take from givers because they deserve it. Two genders in opposition with each other , every of them feeling more important than the other by the second, which is rather ironic since we all exist thanks to both genders. Bottom line is, we are all important.

Not long ago, a soulmate used to be God, now a soulmate is a person with 0.00% failure rate in all the fields. Good with them kids, good with them neighbours, doesn’t get upset, always there on time , always there when you need them . Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, attributes that largely describe the Almighty Father. A perfect person who fits in a folder and excels in every checklist, is it really a wonder that relationships fall under the immense pressure?

There is a swahili saying which reads , kila mwanamke ana dosari yake, which easily translates to every woman has a flaw. Men are flawed too. No-one is a software or an object that gets recalled from the market after a survey analysis to fix the failure rate . An instagram filter can filter away the scars of the heart . A like on social media don’t take away the poor communication you have with imediate people . But we can learn , the same way we exel in a foreign language taught to us in school, love and belonging needs to  be a subject incorporated in our every day lives.

Every area in our life requires we know how to engage and associate with people. A foreign language may open doors for international success but the language of love earns you a lifetime of rememberance wherever you go.

The current fate of modern love is not doomed, it just needs an upgrade . Like Albert Ainstein famously said, the problems we are currently facing will not be solved with the same thinking we used whilst creating them , we have to research new methods. It’s all each of us needs to do, engage a new type of thinking in the subject of love and belonging , if we are going to change what we know about the subject, we need to borrow from the eagle and make a mighty fleet after dropping the ideologies that way us down.

CHANGE WILL ALWAYS BE A GOOD THING.