What anger does best


Mitch said ‘Learn this from me. Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.’

Do not hold onto any negative energies. I learned how not to do that the hard way. Don’t wait for your turn. Only a fool waits to learn from their own experience. Don’t hold to anger, hurt or pain. They steal your energy and keep you from love.

always winnie

I won’t sit and watch you hate me

It is almost 9p.m here. I have already taken my supper and am sitting with my cup of warm water contemplating on how I could get my stomach abs totally in shape.

My harmless thoughts are interrupted by the thought of how couples fight and go apart with bitterness and broken hearts. Some even kill their partners and I can’t help wonder how it came to that.

Call me cold but every time I sense a guy doesn’t like part of me that I don’t want to change, I only stick around enough to confirm my suspense. There are definitely aspects of you that not everybody is comfortable with and for me it is and will always speaking out my mind. When I am mad I will say I am mad. No going back. There is no way that is going to change. I can sense dislike for that with reactions I get and no matter how much I like a guy, if he isn’t comfortable with that, I won’t sit back and watch him hate me. There is no need of sticking around and making him hope that maybe one day I will shut up when somebody does something wrong against me or when there is something I don’t like. I will say it always.

Everytime I see a bitter person, I wish they could have walked away at the earliest signs of dislike. If you aint planning to work on that part that he or she doesn’t like, why do you just sit there and wait for that dislike grow to hate?? For me, I refuse to sit there and just wait to be hated.
Ellis once said all the art of living lies in a fine mingling of holding on and letting go.

always winnie

Indian love

It is a sad thing for me to accept that I will never be a Winnie Patel Shah or even Winnie Singh Patel or any other Indian name I might have gained after marrying an Indian.
To be honest I love Indians.. the accent!!! Darn it.. it’s funny and sexy.. Their hair.. ah.. it makes me want to just have part of the Indian genes in my kids. My love has been growing over time because my aunt has been making me watch the Indian channel on Dstv; zeew.. Their soap operas are hilarious.. let’s just say I love Indians.
However my stomach might come in between me and my love for the Shahs and Patels. A cow is too enticing as meat to be a god.  No no… that is food for me.. I see roast meat every time I look at a cow.
The other thing is dowry. There is no way my very old fashioned parents will want anything less than cows, honey, pot, and goats for their daughter’s dowry. Thinking that they might for dowry, I might be disowned on the brighter side. You can think of the dark side.

The cast system of the Indians amuses me. From watching their channel, I discovered that certain cast has to remove their shoes when they meet the landlords.. what the heck!!!
I really love Indians but when I see all the barriers, I decide to settle for any other husband apart from Russians.. nothing personal against these people but I fear for my kid. He might inherit the bad Russian genes.

always winnie

Dear life, an Arab now???

I leave home today in the afternoon. I cleaned up today because I have to meet up my cousin and other friends for a certain meeting. I have my hair loose. Most of my outfit is white and I feel good about myself. Picking my aloe lips, pink wallet and sunglasses I leave the house feeling superb.

I wait for the bus for a few minutes. I position myself comfortably and I have an urge to look at my gallery photos and I can’t help smiling. After a few minutes I get a seat mate. A young built guy. I glance up and resume going through my photos. Few minutes pass and I note the guy is also staring at my phone. I quickly turn it towards the sun rays. He leans towards me and asks who I am chatting with on what’s app. I don’t answer him. He keeps bugging me with questions and asking my Facebook details. I really hate such passengers. I curtly give him answers and he doesn’t  seem to understand he is bothering me. I really regret cleaning up well. I would have had my back pack, jeans and a hood, I would have been a free woman. The guy keeps leaning against me and I have to tell him to just sit well, which he does for a few minutes and then leans on me again. I think of changing seats but then just as we get to the new mall on Ngong road, he alights..
I breathe in and smile. I can look at my photos comfortably.

Ten minutes later the bus picks up passengers and someone sits next to me. This time I don’t even look up. A few minutes pass and then the seat mate taps me on the shoulder

‘You are very beautiful ‘ ( put on Arab accent and garlic stench).

I try hard not to react on the smell. I turn put on a fake smile and mumble a half hearted thank you and keep looking at my phone. Just that I saw how my seat mate looks like.
He is short, Arab with a long beard. He has some specs that make him look weird. His head is covered with a white arafat and he is in white.
He isn’t put off and as he taps me again on the shoulder, I can hear myself praying

Our father in heaven, holy is your name, please help him shut up or move from here

I turn towards him with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t note. (Put on Arab accent or if you can’t, do the Slovakian one)

What is your name?
Winnie ( me)
How old are you?
What do you do?? As in occupation?
( surprised) at a university?
What year are you?? As in first second?


You know you are very beautiful

( me whispering) our father who art in heaven…

‘ GPO ICA!!! GPO, ICA!!!’ That’s the bus conductor asking who alighting at that stage. I could have hugged him. I genuinely smile at the Arab and tell him
‘ thank you’
I step out of the bus and all I can do is breath in lots of air. It might not be that fresh but at least it doesn’t leek of garlic.

always winnie


I sink into my cold bed early in the night and i feel really tired. All i want is to sleep and since i am not expecting any calls, i place my phone on the floor. I don’t remember if i said grace or gave thanks for my life  but i remember i felt myself drifting away.

First it is peaceful. Sound and the beauty of nothingness when you want to sleep.

Then i see myself with my mum and brother in one of the farms my mum plants onions. I don’t see onions though. I see some shiny weed that we harvest for our animals and feed them to increase the milk output. We are busy picking and as usual, my mum is quiet listening to my brother making fun of me being single and all she can do is laugh. She looks happy.

Her phone rings and  we look at her as she listens. She suddenly throws the phone on the ground. For us, that is a bad sign. The only times my mum breaks her phone is when someone calls her with news on sudden death.

We try to talk to her and all she can tell us is that it has something with our eldest brother. She doesn’t say he is dead or anything. All she does is lay on the ground as if she is crushed. As if somebody took from her hands the will to live. I try to raise her up but she can’t and won’t. My brother picks up the phone. I stand a few steps from my crushed mother and start complaining about our elder brother. I beckon at my brother who we were with and tell him

‘Look at the woman who has been our mother and father for more than ten years. Look someone has crushed her spirit. She can’t wail. All she does is lie there with tears rolling and being absorbed by her hair. I really do not know what to say to Tim this time.

My brother looks at me and says ‘Stop it. Whatever Tim did, he did it to protect you”

I am shocked and i can feel a lump on my throat as i look at my mum lying on the ground with the sun against her. I want to console her but she looks as if she is just totally broken and touching her would make it only worse.

I start crying and i am woken up by my own sobs.crushed-rose

My water rant.



If you take two twenty minute showers a day you need psychological help. No one is that dirty. The only way this is acceptable to me is if while you’re in there, you grab some bleach and get to scrubbing.
If you take even a single TWENTY minute shower a day you are just a douche. People drink less water in a week then you just let run down the drain. It takes ten minutes, TOPS.
If you turn the water on and wait five minutes for it to “heat up” you are a asshole. Turn the damn water heater up!

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Ladies if he asks whether you can cook

I must admit this is becoming a bother to me now.. what is wrong with a lady who can’t cook??  All I see are updates like
‘ women be drinking like their fathers instead of cooking like their mothers
I see articles on how to keep a man at home and bam!! Cooking is there.


Okay, lemme get this clear first, do you seek a wife or a cook???

Times have changed and the kitchen is no longer the woman’s place. Women should cook if they want to, not because they ought to. However, if men continue to be this irritating and insist a woman should cook almost as good his mother, fine. I will let you be. But I will also expect you to:

Know how to repair furniture, fences, trim flowers, milk the cows, feed them, and know what is wrong with them.
Pay school fees, carry kids on your shoulders, know who to call when anybody gets caught in my family..
Come up with the amount money wanted in times of crises..
And the list goes on.
Well, you can blame me. That’s what my father used to do while my mother was cooking.

always winnie

Dear God

Today is a fine day. I am grateful for it.
Forgive me for being  a moron, ungrateful and disobedient most of times.

Create me a big heart.
Bless all people in accordance to your grace and will.
Give them a good day for those in my time zone and for those sisters I have met whilst here in other time zone, be gracious unto them.

I believe in you and always will. Amen

always winnie

If we knew the day we will die

I am feeling dead beat and so lost. I don’t want to sleep because I might have nightmares of rats jumping on me. I have no new movie and actually I don’t think I want to watch anything.

So here I am. In a cold bed between cold purple sheets. Staring into darkness wondering, what if I knew the day I would die??

First if I realized that I would die young, I would avoid marriage and kids. I don’t want to leave them being watched by anyone.
I most likely earn money and give it all away.. 
I would avoid most romantic relationships because I don’t want anybody broken then quietly die young

What if I was to die old?? Then what?? I would still die. I would watch my kids grow and then I would watch my kids grow. Maybe some of them would be predestined to die young. Then I would be heartbroken because I can’t share my years.. what if my husband is to die young?? What if to keep me he lied he would die old..  then I would be heartbroken.. then I would be old and sad..

Vanity of vanities..

All the what ifs might happen, but I will live everyday as it comes. I will fall, rise and move on. I might die young or old. I just want to have lived.

always winnie

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