2022 changes

Well, it has been a minute since i wrote anything. Honestly i don’t think i can write any longer but i will try.. Don’t judge me.

I have been on this site since forever and i have decided it’s time you all crowned me ‘Grandma of WordPress’.. Whether you like it or not, i will be giving you advice on how to live day to day life instead of writing about my Nairobi life. That bit is dead now. I work, look after my twins and have zero social life..

This change was bound to happen as you know, ‘Change is inevitable apart from a vending machine’.

I really hope you all enjoy. Happy and blessed 2022.


When i first hear her screams, i don’t react. I just lay on the cold mattress wondering how i am going to get through my own pain. I keep thinking that i don’t know how to get through this. Her screams get louder and women start talking.

‘She should be quieter’ , one says..

‘She should control herself’. another one chirps

I just stare in the ceiling wondering if she is gonna survive.

As she draws nearer, my mind concentrates on her screams. I can’t hear the other women. Her voice is anguished and she sounds like pain itself. I don’t understand how women keep doing this.. My mind drifts to the many times i have ran into women with five kids and all i can think of is how crazy and strong they are. This shit isn’t for the light hearted.

I dunno at what point i drift off but the next thing i know is that a nurse friend is tapping my shoulder. ‘I am going to help you walk. There is something i want you to see and hear.’

I want to argue i don’t have the energy but i don’t. We walk slowly and join a few women sitting outside the ultra sound room. The nurse nods at the women and we sit. I don’t know exactly why i am here but i sit anyway.

I observe around me and there is a pregnant woman held by an older woman. They are both crying. With them are other three women. They all look downcast. At some point the pregnant woman starts screaming. It is the same anguished cry..

Before i can ask, a doctor comes out the ultra sound room. He also looks beat. He asks if he can speak and all comes up with is ‘i am sorry’.. The pregnant woman lets out an anguished scream.. I don’t understand still. My nurse friend helps me up and on our way back she explain.. ‘ Her baby died in her womb. They are going to take her to theater immediately. She is still at the same risk of losing as much blood as you lost. She has to fight to keep awake otherwise her blood pressure plummets.. Yet after all that, she leaves that room with no baby.’

As she helps me up the cold bed I can’t help but feel the tears fall.

Hello 2021

Crazy, right? I don’t even remember if i have posted anything this year. This has been a blur… Fighting, learning and surviving.. Mainly surviving. I just hope everyone’s okay and well.. I am back hopefully.

Happy 2021!!

Maybe we will see better days

Today, the sun is up.. Neither too hot nor too overtaken by the breeze. I can feel just the right warmth… Only that the warmth doesn’t permeate into the heart. I sit alone on some bench. The bench is outside our usual beans joint.. The only thing is, the joint is closed. So I am alone.

The dust isn’t as much. The rains, just a few days ago settled the dust.Once in a few minutes, a kid will run by and others will go chasing after them. The freedom.. The kids are barefooted.. They are happy and stress free. They scream their lungs out and laugh. I just can’t help to wish that I can go back to those days when my biggest worry was how to avoid homework.

The wind blows gently and doesn’t rouse much dust. I want to cry so hard for those mothers that can’t feed their families.. That are watching their kids waste away due to lack of food.. I want to weep for kids that are locked up with monsters that are molesting them.. But what good does weeping do?

I shift my thoughts to our politics.. To our country. My brain freezes. The greed in this country is just depressing.. I can’t think.. So i prefer to dwell on my own woes.. The sun no longer feels as warm.. The breeze no longer feels as good…. I want to watch for birds.. but what for? I want to hope for better days.. Maybe, maybe not..

Maybe we will see better days… Maybe we won’t.. Maybe we will waste away with pandemic.. Maybe we will always wear masks.. Maybe children will never go back to school.. Maybe this country will eventually be divide between China and our politicians.. Maybe we are royally screwed up..

Or maybe, we will see better days..

Did you know?

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.

George Carlin

.. Keep smiling no matter how hard times are.. 💋

How are you coping?

Ever sat down and thought ‘Damn..I am royally screwed’? I hope not because it is an awful feeling. As if Covid-19 and hard financial times isn’t enough shit to deal with, i went ahead and got myself into a mess that i will probably will never get myself out.. And that i will probably will tell you about in 5 years time.. lol

Anyway, how is it on your side?? What are the effects of the virus?

The hardest bit here is the rate of abuse that is ongoing. It is like people are taking out their wrath on their kids. It is so heartbreaking that every day there are more cases than there were yesterday..

Of course the financial strain can be felt and touched.. As one who works online, ( https://www.ysense.com/?rb=59749332 ) job priorities have shifted to developed countries and right now i am looking for a white husband because i really need to shift to those developed countries.. People are getting laid off daily, people are taking paycuts every day. It is sad to imagine that we consider those taking paycuts luckier than those who are completely laid off.

I just don’t want to think about it..

I hope everyone is keeping very safe and sane. We need to hold on tighter than ever before. Be safe.

The Mighty might have fallen

Five o’clock in the evening… The sun is nowhere to be seen. It is as if the guys who feed its fire with wood are also quarantined. The breeze is quiet and chilly. You’d think it is past seven pm.

I am sitting on an old bench outside some very old shanty. With me is T and a two other women. The thing is, we are all sitting a bit far from each other. Nobody wants to catch the virus. Once now and then, you will hear us laugh. The laughter in itself is not jovial.. It carries with it a wave of sadness.. Who would have thought we would laugh and be sad at the same time?

T is wearing her yellow hoodie with some green pants and some black rubbers.. She looks like she is alternating between looking like a ripe and unripe banana.. Next to her is Mother to N. In my culture we don’t address women with kids with their first name.. It is always ‘Mother to so and so’. She is in a heavy grey jumper.. I can’t see exactly what she has on the bottom because she is covered in a Maasai shawl.. We are her customers with T. She does sell boiled beans and chapati.We always want to change the place we buy from, but she isn’t pure evil. One day we will get stomach upsets and spend the night outside the loo, yet other days, her stuff is good. So all we do is buy and pray we don’t fall sick.
The other woman; She is a stranger. I haven’t met her before. She carries with her some air of sadness. It is as if there is nothing you can do to take that sadness away. That is all i notice. I only realize later that maybe i’d have noted what she had on to shield herself from the cold.

‘I no longer know what to say to her,’ she says.
‘To him, i want to cut that dick off.’..

We laugh. That laughter is just a sound: hollow and devoid of any joy.. I look at her. Really look.

‘Why is he still not in jail?’ I ask.

She doesn’t answer immediately and i think maybe she didn’t hear me. I want to repeat the question but T gives me the ‘shut up’ look. I bite my tongue.

‘You know,’she starts so softly that we think we imagined it. ‘I don’t know how to tell my family that my husband, the protector of my kids is defiling his own daughter. I don’t know what to tell the world. I don’t know how to tell myself that my husband is doing that to our first baby. Our own flesh and blood.’ A tear falls down her cheek and we are helpless. She looks so alone, yet we are right here with her.

‘What if we take you and start by telling the police. It is a step,’ Mother of N suggests.

‘My baby, will be tested, she will be questioned and maybe have to testify against her own father.. Yet she is only 9. Why can’t he act like a man?’ she questions.

None of us got answers to her questions. I can feel my legs freezing up and my hands are dead… Weirdly, tears haven’t frozen in my eyes. I can feel them threatening.
T looks like she is far away. It is like we lost a war that we didn’t even know we are fighting. Fathers are supposed to protect..
I remember my dad. I thought nobody was capable of doing anything to him.. I worshiped the very ground he walked on.. He looked out for us and extended it to cousins and neighbors kids. What happened to that breed of men?


It’s T looking at me. I touch my face and realize i was crying.

As we walk on the dusty paths of Kibiku, towards the police station, our hearts are heavy, our demeanor is defeated and our shoulders are slumped.
Everyone is lost in their own thoughts about a girl whose life will never be the same again. Who will fight to survive, trust and love.. Who will fight to heal.

My thoughts drift off to our fathers.. The fighters, the warriors, the providers, even in their graves, our protection totems.. I can feel my tears fall and my heart sink…. It is sad and i can feel my heart sigh ‘oh how the mighty have fallen’.. 😢😢😢

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