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The 3:1 Lifestyle

In the past few months I have had the opportunity to interact with a gentleman who has challenged my faith. I am a Christian, not the best of the bunch, more of the type that is constantly reminding you to not judge because they have so many things they can be judged on. I tend to complain a lot. Especially lately. I have complained about the things that went wrong in the past, the things that are wrong and the things that will go wrong in the future.

Gentleman reminded me about the lessons I learnt early in life about living the thankful lifestyle. Maybe, I have built a house in my spirit where all the bad things that have happened to me live. Every time I want to say I am glad good things are happening, the size of the house reminds me of all the pain I might have endured.

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Implicit Memory

Our past experiences color our actions today. We make decisions based on what has happened in the past. According psychology implicit memory uses our experiences to remember things without actually thinking about them. It maybe that house in my spirit that reminds me that, “anytime I have been excited about a new opportunity I have failed to achieve my goal”. That wound that tears open every time you try to move forward in your life. Implicit memory is a good check on behavior. It cautions you when you are about to do something stupid. But when you dwell in the dark little house in your soul where hope goes to die, it cripples you. It destroys the good in you. The fact that you were hurt, or conned before does not mean everyone you meet is planning to do the same.

Back to gentleman. He said that at the end of everyday it helps to think about three things you are thankful for and make one request of God. It made me think about my prayers. Lately, I think God has not enjoyed our pre-bedtime talks. I complain and barely listen. Yes, it sounds like I am making a long list of requests but in truth it is complaining. And it has made me think of my more thankful persona. No, the change has not been because of COVID19, I have complained for two years about how badly my life has been going. I did a bit to change things but I could have done more but I was too focused on what I didn’t have. On what others had but I had been denied.

Habbakuk 3: 17-18

This is my all time favorite bible verse. I am diabetic, if you been here before you know that. When I first got diagnosed, the idea of “in all things be thankful” was difficult. I yelled at my doctor so much, he cried… Well my 15 year old self likes to think that. But I had a stammering issue, so he might have been biting his tongue really hard so he did not laugh. To my teenage self in that moment and for at least a year, I hated what I called “keeping me alive with medicine”. But then with time, I made my peace with it. I had medicine, food and shelter. At the time a months supply of insulin cost about Kshs 2000 so it was a big deal. In my late 20s I stumbled into Habbakuk 3:17-18. And it taught me that I could love God with or without getting stuff.

credit: Faithlife Media

We do not have faith in God because he gives us stuff. Our faith should go beyond the stuff we have, the stuff we could get through God. Remember, it is your responsibility to get stuff. God blesses the work of your hands. So whether there are no grapes on the vine, no sheep in your pen or cattle in your stalls, don’t complain. I am not saying that you shouldn’t have stuff and should celebrate lack. No, I am saying being bitter about it, will gain you nothing. It will muddy your soul and your prayers will no longer unburden you.

The 3:1 Lifestyle

I want to go back to being more thankful. There is power in positive thinking as Norman Vincent Peale says. Even if you do not get everything you want, Vincent Peale argues that focusing on the good helps you see yourself succeeding even when you have just experienced failure. Think about Thomas Edison, he said that he did not fail 1000 times but that making a light bulb required 1000 steps. Taking that kind of positive approach is good for you, body, mind and soul. You develop a healthier self image and are more likely to pursue challenging tasks, make new friends and become more successful in your romantic endeavors. In prayer, say three things you are thankful for and make one request. As Rumi put it “If you only say one prayer in a day make it Thank You”.

Liberate Yourself…

In the words of the gentleman, cast your burdens unto Jesus. Let the past, the failure, the pain go. Free yourself by giving it up to one whose yoke is easy and his burden light. Even if you do not believe in a higher power, demolish that house of pain in your soul, let it all go so that you can face the future happier and unburdened.

Show me that smile baibe…

If We Stay Here We Die: Finding Happiness Again

Back in the day when I actually believed I was cooler than everyone else around I had a favourite song. Ok, that’s not the beginning. More like I was a moderately cool rocker chick…? I could not afford the face paint but I totally loved my black eyeliner. Plus, I prefer hiding my true feelings especially unpleasant ones. If I am actually showing you discomfort, then shit has hit the fan. I was more into the church than I am right now, and had to be appropriate at least on the weekend. hehehe

Anyway, my favourite song. Often, when I was sad and taking long walks away from the endless pages of Arthur Conan Doyle that I luxuriated in reading (I was fascinated by Sherlock Holmes, cocaine addiction and everything nice.), I listened to The Rasmus’ Ten Black Roses. And it has been years since I had the urge to go back to that place where the little lost emo chick, who thought no one wanted her lived. I have felt that same helpless desolation again. Fighting against a force that refuses to let me go.

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Ten Black Roses

Life is like a boat in the bottle
Try to sail, You can’t with no air
Day by day it only gets harder
Try to scream but nobody cares
Through the glass you see the same faces
Hear the voices play fade a drum
When your life’s a boat in a bottle
You’re surrounded, drifting alone

Lately, I have been feeling like I live in a bottle. No one sees that I am trapped and there are people everywhere. I know it may sound ungrateful, but I am tired of always looking on the brighter side and arguing that a better day is in the offing. I have often told you to look on the bright side, to think about what you have and what you could probably have. But the thing is I am tired and I am beginning to see the bottle around my little boat. You can only take so many punches before you throw in the towel, and I feel like I am about to throw in the towel.

Straight Shooter

Let’s get this straight, I don’t deny that the 7 billion inhabitants of the earth probably feel worse than I do. They have less money than I do, have smaller houses than I do. Problem is I have preached this to myself for so long, It’s beginning to lose its appeal. Why do I have to be miserable? Because 50 million people around the world, have it worse then I do? Why are their problems more important than mine.

Here is the thing, when I was diagnosed with Diabetes, I told myself, it was for a reason; that I was going to give hope to someone who didn’t have it. Then I was diagnosed with Asthma, and I told myself that it was a challenge for me to beat the weakness in me. Lately, it feels like, I haven’t won in any part of my life. Yes, I can afford medicine, but I have not got healthier. Maybe I do not have a lot of healthy food and drink habits. But all I have wanted is to win something. Maybe to have a wonderful romance with someone I can talk to till the wee hours. Maybe to get a nice cushy job and drive a nice little car. Maybe, be healthy enough to eat cake or sleep without my inhaler.

Reality

In truth, none of that has happened. And I feel trapped and there is no one sending me black roses. No one knows how hard I have tried to have at least one thing, they take for granted. That is why I think it is incredulously unfair to say I should suck it up because I said I am depressed. I have sucked it up for a large part of my life. I have told myself to hold on because things were getting better tomorrow. Now, I feel it is tomorrow, and it is my turn to be part of the very sad 7 billion people who have sadnesses and miserablenesses.

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I despise wallowing. I really want to wallow though. I am 34 and I feel like I have achieved nothing in my entire life. Even people with a low IQ can find a husband and get married, as in seriously, you do not need to go to school for that. It feels like I have failed at life, seriously. And Doing the same thing over and over is pointless and Einstein agrees. I feel hope and trying have completely lost their appeal. I really want to wallow and it’s a struggle to wake up every morning and do my job sometimes. But then, I am reminded, sometimes near tears in the shower, that I have great smelling, shower gel (yes, send me soaps for Christmas) and 2 Kings 7:4.

2 Kings 7:4

If we say, ‘We’ll go into the city’–the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let’s go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die.” (NIV)

I think about these four lepers at the city gates. Out of choices, low on options and who kept going. As in, at that moment they were like 90% sure they were going to die. At that desolate point, they chose not to give up, to look the hopelessness in the eye and say “so what bitch!”. A little like, The Walking Dead. The people stare death in the eye every day and do not walk away. Do not throw in the towel when the only possible end to their story is death, or turning into cannibalistic zombies (Ok btw how come the zombies in The Walking Dead eat other parts of people? Like I just saw one chewing on some dudes liver. Like come on, you are a zombie, have a brain… pun intended)

Why stay here until we die?

I want you to picture these lepers like someone made me do this evening. Sitting in a semi-circle, half-starved, clothes worn out, bells clicking lightly when they move, missing toes and an ear or two hanging on for dear life. The people in the city will not be exactly excited to see them and anyway, they are hungry and there is no food within the walls. They can’t go in there. And then they brilliantly hit on the fact that, since they will die anyway, why not do something in the meantime. If things work out, well and good, if they do not, oh well… And that is what we need to start doing. Instead of simply sitting idly by and waiting for the inevitable, we could keep moving forward. Keep fighting back.

For Athens!!!

Remember Seaplane from Jumanji. He spent 20 years terrified he was going to die if he kept trying to finish the game. And I know how you feel, you do not want to be disappointed ever again. You do not want to have your heart broken again. You do not want to continue actively participating in your own disappointment. But that’s the thing about life, even when you are not trying, you get disappointed. Why not make that disappointment worth it? Why stay here and die? Like Tanzania’s John Stephen Akhwari who said, “My country did not send me 5000miles to start the race, they sent me 5000miles to finish.” Even with his dislocated knee, he kept going. So why should we stay here and die.

Wallowing Breeds Bitterness

See, you can give up and be miserable but the problem is, you become bitter too. You see enemies everywhere. The past happened and goodness it hurt. It still hurts. That said you cannot live your life on a reactionary path. Your lover cheated on you, you cannot spend eternity trying to revenge. Live child. Staying is basically killing yourself. It’s suicide. The 23rd Psalm speaks of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. See valleys are generally hard to get out of but when you are shadowed by death… it’s even harder. Yes, things did not go your way, but you can try to get out of the valley. When David said, “Shadow of death” (KJV) or “darkest valley” (NIV) it came from experience. David had been in some pretty dark places. From losing a child to getting the people killed for his folly. To be in that place is the hardest thing you will ever have to do. But, you have, as Jesus would put it, “Get up, pick up your mat and walk.”

I Know You

We probably have not met, I just mean I know how it feels. To sit outside the city gates, to know death awaits you within and to feel the suffocating grip of misery. I know it is harder said than done and it will take you time to walk down to the Arameans camp, but you MUST. You cannot stay here. You cannot sit here and wait to die. Yes, you might get disappointed again but you also might not get disappointed. And remember, if no one understands you, I do. And I will send you black roses.

From a place of love…❤️

For the Love of King and Country: Kenya Edition

John F. Kennedy said, “ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country”. What exactly did he mean? Did he mean we should join the army and fight in a variety of places we have no right to be in? You know Americans like my primary school teacher used to say about the Maasai are a very warlike sort. They are always fighting in some war. If there is no war they will go create one somewhere and fight in it. Did JFK mean that we should not wait upon the government to provide opportunities but create them ourselves? Or did he say it so that teachers like me can throw it in our students’ faces when they ask good questions.

The Status Quo

I think JFK wanted the Americans of the time and now the rest of the world to challenge the status quo. To make choices that change “how things have been”. Growing up my father was very strict. There were so many rules, that as I write on my bed I am sure I am breaking at least three of them. The number of rules grew with each family meeting. There were always new things that were illegal, new don’ts. One time my father decreed that there would be no more TV or newspapers for us, (unless we wanted to watch the seven o’clock news). (No. no. He was going to buy the newspaper, we just weren’t supposed to read it). Instead of nodding like the sheep she was supposed to be, my youngest sister looked him in the eye and said no since that was an unreasonable rule. Then walked out and banged the door like a total diva. I think she was tired of quietly complaining but looking happy and satisfied all the time.

Think Not

Often we watch things happen and do nothing about them except complain on the internet. I have asked once before, why do we keep looking for a supernatural solution when a natural/physical solution is available. Karma and hell do not solve the actual problem here. Karl Max called religion “opium of the masses” and in the Kenyan situation it keeps us all drugged up waiting to watch COVIDMillionares burn in a hell whose existence we cannot ascertain. A hell that is not even part of our culture and tradition. We hope that they will be punished by deities who I believe are looking at us going like, “Are these people for real”.

credit: imgur

Maybe something bad will happen to their children and their children’s children but my question is, What about our children in the here and now?

Faith Without Action

By the burning bush God asked Moses “What is that you have in your hand?” See Moses wasn’t sure that the Israelites would follow him anywhere or even listen to him. He also wasn’t exactly keen on going back to Egypt. He had a nice life in Midian, a bunch of sheep and a wife. In that question God pointed out that we have the tools in our hands to free ourselves. God won’t show up and carry away your problems but he has put in your hands the power to liberate yourself. I am not saying God is not capable of such action, I am just willing to admit that he says, “I will bless the work of your hands.” You have to do something about your circumstances. You have to choose to get out of the murk. To demand better.

Do as John F. Kennedy

I challenge you today, to do something to fight the corruption in this country. What is in your hands? Do you have a bribe you were going to give? We feed the system, we make it thrive. It is not the devil and it is not the fact that the Kenyattas of this world are rich. No. We have glorified mediocrity and built an altar to amateurism.

You need to stop applauding comments like, “At least for once it won’t be possible to be blamed for what someone said “started in Wuhan as a virus, landed in Italy as a pandemic and now in Kenya as a multi-billion shilling corruption enterprise”. Wacha niendelee kama spectator. ISORAIT,” This person should have stood up for you as a citizen and for us as a nation. He should have stood up for your cousin, friend, mother, workmate who may die from COVID19 working in a hospital with no PPEs. This person, spectator or not is just as responsible for the missing money as his friend. Probably even more because he stood by and watched as the funds were stolen and never said one single thing.

Do for Your Country

In a time like this, challenge the status quo. Things are not supposed to be the way they are. We deserve better, demand better. Arise and fight for what’s right. Fight for the here and now, for our children going hungry today.

credit: shutterstock

Surviving The COVID Hopelessness: Your Abyss Friends

credit: forbes

Since the COVID happened, I have lost a lot of jobs. At some point I was so sure that my life was over I did not leave my house for a long time. Might have forgotten to brush my teeth a couple of times too *gross*. I struggled to get out of bed because although I have often felt like I was failing in life, at that moment when I had no job and no one to talk to, I felt defeated. I have talked about my academic dreams here before. I waxed lyrical about my male companion dreams here too. Thing is I sat in my bed, unable to get out because I felt I had done everything and still at the end of the day I was the first employee to get the pink slip. I thought about the fact that if I had been brave enough to say no at 18 and not walk into that teacher education college. If I had listened to my little sister when she said, “Carol, this is a bad idea…” I might have been in a different place. Maybe I would have had my Masters degree at least. You know being an indefatigable nerd and all that. Regret my dear, stinks. Steals you soul and puts it in a slicer on steroids.

Carol, This is a Bad Idea

See I have had my heart broken twice in my life. The first time by the entire faculty of education at an institution that shall remain nameless and the second by a man, but that’s a long story. I had a whole plan, a huge plan and I was going to make it happen if I could scrounge a scholarship. Put my academic career on the fast track so that I could confidently say “heretofore” to people at highbrow dinner parties. It didn’t work out like that. And boy did it hurt and I really wanted to scream. But a lady doesn’t scream or show that kind of overt emotionalism in public. I said a lady.

Wallowing in Regret

That was how I ended up without a Masters degree (Mistress, if you like) and jobless. I hated myself, my life and everything I had ever tried to do. If I could have, I would have jumped out of my life. Left for some distant planet where I would have a job and enough money to save for a BMW. I am a good girl, I deserve it. And sitting in my darkened bedroom (thick curtains🤷) I really cried. Yes, I am supposedly smart but why have my smarts not given me a PhD. I know I refused to consider that I actually couldn’t afford the fees before the COVID showed. My smarts haven’t given me a little Toyota with a broken headlights (…terrible driver). But even as I worried about that, I wondered why I had the diabetes and the asthma. See I was ignoring the preventer inhaler, it was cold, I was crying so I could barely breath. But, I think part of me just wanted to make the problems as big as possible and the darkness blacker than the tar pits of Mordor. Misery loves company.

credit: wikipedia

Being Ungrateful

Let’s be honest. I wasn’t crying and refusing to eat and take my medicine because I had “basic-need” problems. The rent was paid, power was on, I had food to feed 3 families and money in the bank. I still had unexplored job avenues and I could still afford medicine (can i hear an amen from from the chronic illness corner, 💁😂😂). I should not have complained so loud because all hope was not lost. Like my mother says “as long as I got strength in my hands…” or something like that I could do something about my everything.

The COVID Hopelessness

We use work, alcohol and large groups to hide from our insecurities. When you take away the the refuge from reality we are forced to confront our worst fears. Before COVID I woke up at 3am and worked all the way till I keeled over at 10pm. I worked 3 jobs and at some point my doctor was worried I was in the middle of a soon-to-be heart attack or stroke (you know High BP and all that good stuff). COVID took away my armour. I was confronted with the fact that the one person I wanted to talk to wasn’t here anymore and I had made nothing (of note) of my 33.5 years on earth. I am really sorry if you have felt this way. Because, even with my sunny disposition and love of logic I could not light up that dark abyss of missed opportunities and a heart that had felt enough. A heart that was ready to throw in the towel.

That plan is illogical, they will die

Strangers in the Night

I wanted to pull a Hemingway and drown in a pool of Mojitos or simply just bring in the liqour like Poe did. Instead I found strangers out there in the abyss of despair who helped me focus less on just giving up and going to live in my parents hacienda. They stopped my descent into the bottomless chasm of defeat. Made me look at the what I already had, like with Moses and the burning bush they made me ask “What’s in your hand?”

Hemingway’s pain go bye bye juice

Ma Chérie

I believe to give up trying would be worse than death. To say you will not do anything anymore is not only to kill that which is in you but also that which you could have created in others. It sucks, trust me, I know. But the mark of a great man, great woman is never staying down when life pulls the carpet from right under you. Everything takes time, COVID will suck for a while but like Mohammed Ali said make the days count don’t count the days.

credit: Giphy

Nothing is impossible and pain doesn’t last forever. You will survive, you will thrive. If you give up, if you let despair win, you will miss out on the journey. And chérie, isn’t that what counts. The Journey.

Feminism, Silk Ropes – The feminism of Proverbs 31

photo credit: Alamy

I am traditional, well in a liberal sense. I do not believe that women belong in the kitchen, but I also firmly believe they should make their husbands dinner and play Proverbs 31 as closely as possible for them. If you have read this part of the bible or gone to a lady’s seminar on this subject, you felt you were being asked for too much. One lady once asked, “If I do all that, what will my husband do?” the preacher who must have been of Bi Msafiri variety pointed out sternly, “Be a husband.”

What is Feminism?

As Purity Wanjohi points out, “Feminism wasn’t meant to be a tool to pit women against men…” feminism was meant to build a more inclusive society. Patriarchy puts men so high up there that women suffered oppression even in the most comfortable setting. It made it seem like they were nothing, of no consequence, and could not in any way think for themselves. Feminism was meant to include women. So that when men, debated abortion, contraception, marriage, property ownership, a woman’s voice was heard. So that I can be romantic too. It’s not much of a surprise if I have to borrow the money to buy caviar, and neither is it a loving sacrifice (fish eggs are expensive, just like truffles).

Feminist Literature

For you to clearly understand the idea of being included, consider fairy tale African or European. The ogre captured the prettiest village girls (yah, ogres preferred beautiful girls) with cassava light skin, broad hips, and a few other none PG13 attributes. Ok, the ogre captured this helpless girl whether while fetching water, stealing mangoes or getting firewood and carried her away to his house to eat. Roast and eat, of course, medium-rare, ogres have a very discriminating palate. Then a tall, strong, and fearless man rescued her in the nick of time (yes, I know a gentleman who would say “Damn straight Caroline…” and sip his scotch triumphantly).

disney princess: piniterest

The Silk Ropes

I have nothing against being rescued or tall, strong men. I love the feeling of safety when a good man is in charge and can save me from my own flightiness. Think Nalini Singh’s Raphael. But I don’t want to lose myself in my rescuer, I still want to pursue my interests, succeed and know he will say “Good girl Caroline” (mention my age, I dare you…) Let’s consider literature again. Thomas Hardy’s Tess was a victim of a system that saw marriage as a way to wealth. Tess’s parents believe marrying her off to her “cousin” would change their circumstances. But then this cousin takes advantage of her, and she gets her pregnant. Maybe she is lured by his wealth or parental pressure, but he takes advantage of her innocence. Think, isn’t that what E.L James’ Anastasia is afraid of. That Christian’s strength and power will make her forget to grow herself. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be pampered, its that she doesn’t want to lose her individuality. This is different from using feminism to advance your anger and bitterness.

Yes, I read a lot of “romance novels”

Bitter Feminism

Tess is ill-treated by the world. Her parents put her in a bad position, and society had no way of defending her because she was immoral, and she deserved punishment. The problem in today’s crop of feminists raised by the “what men can do, women can do better” brigade is turning the feminism fight into a crusade to harass men. They want to teach men a lesson. For them, empowerment means “power over men.”

What is Women’s Empowerment?

As a woman, as a feminist, empowerment means that you have the space to do the things men can do. It means you can compete for the same jobs, read the same books, and run for the same political positions. Look at the woman of Proverbs 31. She is empowered. She is strong. She is a feminist. Even as she runs a business empire, she still wakes up early to make breakfast for the man of the house.

Darling Sister,

You can be empowered, you can be strong, but all of these things have to be positive. At the end of the day, you want a man who is proud of your achievements. But, let’s be honest, you will not get the “Good girl Caroline…” if you talk down to your partner because he hasn’t got your success. If people, including your philandering boss, get your respect, why shouldn’t the man who loaned you his name or who you hope will favor you thusly…

Are you beautiful inside too?

Empowered Feminist

I want you to be great, to be empowered, and a mighty feminist. If you must make a lot of noise about your feminism, find a worthy cause. Your cause must never be to make the man in your life feel small. Instead, do things that bring him honor at the city gates. Give your submission free and leave your work persona at work. And if you like a little silk rope with it *wink, wink*, drop a lot of hints, after all, madam Proverbs 31:10 did trade in silk.

The Power of Talking

I am a talker, mostly because I am a teacher but more for my crazy genes. My mother’s side of the family is made of storytellers and dramatists. In a different world, we would be the Chaucers and Shakespeares. But we are a humble lot, and notoriety is not in our collective blood. The one thing talking gives you, though, is the opportunity to make yourself known, share who you are and what you find acceptable.

The Kids

When I was in standard 4 and about 9 years old, my school headmaster was a friend of the family, and so I got access to a lot of reading material. Nepotism, for me. Granted, I had read everything my parents had, and all the old textbooks the older kids threw out. I had a spot I hid found books so I could read them when the catechist didn’t show up for class. It was a great time, and I still love reading and having lots of books to smell. If you want to see where I get my high, see my dealer (different story for another day).

My Mother and The Talk

We are getting sidetracked, so when I was 9, I used to get Pied Crow Magazine from the headmaster to read and return in perfect condition or you know, 90s brand of justice for ruining paper things. This one issue had this story about this girl who was pregnant while in school, and her parents were throwing her out. Like a nice little girl, I asked my mother to explain the situation, and cue her version of “Birds and Bees- Coffeetable Edition”… “If you get pregnant, like this girl” (dramatically pointing at the pregnant girl, “Your father and I will throw you out of our house” (emphasis on “our”). And it gave me a terrible fear of men because I knew that if my mother was going to throw me out, my father would stand behind with her and send his Pseudo-Alsatians after my little pregnant ass.

Rampant Teenage Pregnancy

I am not saying, using terror and mental torture is a perfect parenting method, but it worked for my mother. Maybe if she had known how many copies of her old Parents magazine I had read, she would have used a different tactic. (80’s Parents magazine issues just had angry, violent men who beat women because they didn’t have jobs, no one was happy in those things).

Aww That’s so Cute

Thing is I believe an honest conversation with your daughters is essential. I know children have rights (which is cute), but do you know who should dictate what those rights are? YOU, the PARENT. It is your house, no one should come and go as they please, the little imp doesn’t pay rent and eats like she has a combine harvester somewhere in her sparse anatomy. You are in charge of her calendar and who she meets. She should never feel comfortable following a random cute guy into his house when her day’s schedule says she should be squeezing cabbages at the market. I don’t mean, terrify her, but there should be an understanding so that she learns to respect the owner of the house, holder of the purse strings, and feeder of combine harvesters.

Boys, boys boys oh boys

They are so damn cute, especially the ones who get little village girls pregnant. All that stuff I said above applies to boys too. These random girls he has in his room, where do they come from? Yah, I know revision. Fudge revision. Who are their parents again? Are they aware that your lanky second year, eating you out of house and home son with the drinking habit, is teaching their little slip of a girl Math… Alone. And what sort of math is it that she couldn’t do with Regina and Mr. Kamau’s daughter, who are both studying Biochemistry? Why is your Bachelor of Education (Arts) son suddenly the master of mathematics? Because he is understanding and not jealous of their hair? Oh, is that why she is wearing clothes that begin so late and end so damn early?

Question, You Own this Damn Place

There is nothing wrong with discussion, there is nothing wrong with boys and girls hanging out together. It’s mostly harmless, and also it helps them learn how to relate. But if it’s always kababa and Rita, never an odd number group, holder of Rita’s calendar, please supervise revision. Let them revise with people their own age too, 22-year-olds should have very little to do with 16-year-olds. They have zero in common.

Trip to the Museum

Ever seen a tiny tots class visiting the National Museum? Or the Archives? How many adults did you see? A driver and a teacher can transport kids and show them stuffed birds, but they are not enough to protect the kids from themselves. You need more people saying, “No,” “Do not touch that,” “Read the Sign,” “That bird eats rats, no it’s dead, won’t bite,” and “I care about you little one and will keep you safe.”

It Takes a Village

They are our children, we are the adults, and we need to realize that every time that kid born to teenage parents cries out of lack, we are responsible. We should have done better to protect that baby, to ensure its parents could provide before they had children, and we didn’t. We should teach, advise, reprimand, and be a lot of harsh while ensuring that they never doubt our love. It is on all of us, not only parents, all of us; the village.

I am a Feminist: This is my Feminism

Feminism had its day on the Internet about a week ago. There was a lot of shouting about “my body my choice” and the occasional “Wacha tuone” from a man and even a few confident lesbians.  I know you are picturing women demonstrating in the street defending mama mboga as an essential service. Maybe you think they took to the internet, to demand Corona virus test kits for expectant women or their grandmothers.

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Credit: Shutterstock

Rebel Without a Cause

I must apologize because I have to disappoint you. The modern feminist takes off her clothes and takes pictures of her generous bottom. I have nothing against bottoms. I love a good bottom. My last relationship was held together by a good bottom. Guy had a cute butt, what can I say; the heart wants what the heart wants. I, however, object to taking pictures of your buttocks in the name of feminism. When in truth, you trash our gains by being nothing beyond male entertainment. You turn us all into nothing more than what patriarchy says we are; sex objects.

When Wangari Maathai (God rest her soul) stripped in the 90s, it was for a cause. A good cause.  It was not to prove that, the members of her tribe had buttocks. We are aware of that. Based on your appetite for KFC chicken and 3 biology lessons on the human digestive system.

Naked Protests

Public nudity of women has always been viewed with a certain superstition. In Kenya, if you see old ladies naked you will go blind. Naked Protests like Maathai’s have been a tool against male oppression. They are meant to shame men into doing things the right way. When an African woman threatens to take off her clothes, she is at the end of her tether. She ready to lose everything to get what she wants. And such protests have been effective. 

Now these lovely young ladies, with skin smooth and as soft as harvest time cotton, seem to take off their clothes regularly for a feminism without cause. See with the internet you expect they are well-read. They can get feminist journals on the internet for free. They can read books. These girls went to school after all. I don’t mean girls in porn, not even the exotic dancers or the sex workers putting up ads. It is those that choose to randomly take off their clothes for, “see my lady bits, I am a feminist”.

What is Feminism?

Feminism is about fighting for the rights of women. It is about defending the rights of women; creating a safe place for women to grow into who they are meant to be. Making it possible for women to make choices about their bodies, money, marriage, education without needing a man to allow it. These lovely ladies have not lived through the days when women couldn’t have bank accounts. You worked and your husband got your salary. If you were lucky he gave you half. See women weren’t good at counting money or thinking for that matter. Feminism imetutoa mbali.

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Credit: GettyImages

It gave women the right to vote, better healthcare, equal pay, and education. I believe that every young lady should take a moment to assess the reasons for her public nudity. Do not call it feminism if your undress has no cause. Many suffered so you could have the right to use a phone without male supervision. Do not denigrate their sacrifice by calling your nude twerking video feminism.

I am Feminist

I am a feminist and I do not want to grow male genitalia because that would be the only way I could be equal. I am feminist because I want to live in a society that considers me as human as a man. I can eat when he eats and I can sit where he sits. I can be heard when I speak and my words will hold as much weight as his. That people, will disagree with what I say and not my femininity. I don’t care to hold a man’s place, I care that my place matters as much as his. This is my feminism.

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credit: istock

 

 

Transformation From Within

Image result for 40 under 40 forbes

Today I read Victor Mamora’s piece in the Forbes Africa Magazine, the march issue where he discusses the direction that the African Corporate needs to take in order to continue effectively competing with the world and of course remaining profitable. He argues for the benefits of focusing on problem solving in order to solve problems of humanity and make better profits. It is these ideas that he expresses that I feel can be applied to our own individual lives.

Victor Mamora  says something that resonated with me in a big way. He points out and I quote “…an entrepreneur will not take on activities on the outside that he or she is not capable of on the inside.” What one has the capacity to do is more important than the size of the problem. The willingness not to give up in the face of failure is more important than the amount of money another can throw at a problem. If you do not have the willpower to keep going, if you do not have the faith that your business will succeed, if you lack drive or passion you are very likely to fail because you can only do without what you can do within.

This got me thinking about my approach to life lately and my behavior over the last five years. I have never really been very far from home. I am terrified of moving to a big city because all those hungry people sitting in the streets terrify me. I am afraid of becoming one of them. I don’t want to be in a strange place where no one is friendly. If you read “I Speak for the Bush” you will get where I am coming from. There is a running joke in my place of work that every end of year I swear I am leaving and go back the next year swearing I will not last the year.

I teach, I am very good at it or at least with the children. I am experienced and think i have seen and survived the worst a teenager can throw at me. If I think about it I have become that person from 10years ago wanted to be but the problem is I still don’t feel good enough. I often say I am not afraid of work and I am not. People say I am smart, sharp even but I don’t believe that. I think they probably have never met smart, they should know my sisters or other smart people. And they haven’t seen my KCSE certificate which has spoken volumes to many people.

Like Forbes, Victor Mamora says, I want to change my inside so that I can achieve outside. I want to be a better problem solver but I need to change what I consider my abilities to be. Do you share this feeling? Come on this journey with me, let’s try to remodel our insides so we can try for that management position and get paid enough to buy  some Jimmy Choos.

Aren’t you weary of all those Chinese characters in your shoes that you can’t brag about?

My Dream Man

All my life I have been the kind of girl who wanted to have that man who would turn heads. You know the kind that everyone wants but can’t have coz he is all mine. Truth is that’s all any girl wants. But this is about me so lets pretend I am the only one who wants a tall, gorgeous man who commands respect in his peers but would do anything to make sure I am ok. You know sort of like this

actually now that you ask, Khal Drogo, I do!

Ok maybe not like that, more like,

Khal Drogo  queen daeneys husband

 

He can call me moon of his life or such other things and put on a shirt sometimes…

Hello I’m Carl, I’m gay

Problem is you never really get to meet such a guy because if you find one with those attributes he is either taken or gay. If he is single he either has a psychological problem or an ego the size of the Rift Valley. Maybe someone broke his heart and he is too terrified of a repeat or he is far too busy showing is freshly polished 3D joystick and doesn’t realize everyone in town has seen it. Point is you cannot make him trust your loyalty or be loyal.

Of Thomas Hardy and Tess

Thomas Hardy says that when the one to love shows up it is not yet time to love and when it is time to love the wrong man shows up. If you could see the future maybe you would choose differently so that you love the right person at the right time. I have said on this before, women want security. There are those things that have terrified me in the past and I want a future where those things I know are scary don’t keep happening to me. I mean what happened to the men who were not afraid of the dark behind whom you could hide. With whom you knew you were safe. These days they want to go ask their mothers for permission to have coffee with you because you put on extra eyeliner that one Friday.

Master of his destiny 

He doesn’t have to have a kingdom or an army just strength of character and of the mind. A man to whom I can submit myself to without the fear that he will abuse my trust and submission. I need to know if I let him be the head of the house, basically think for me, that I will be fine. That he truly knows best. So that when he calls me a good girl it feels like a hug and not an insult to my womanhood. Sort of like this…

2,482 Me gusta, 26 comentarios - Emilia Clarke (@emiliaclarkelive) en Instagram: "Good girl "

 

*I got the pictures on Pinterest and everyone should see Aquaman and GoT.

 

My Neighbour and I

I am worried about my neighbor. I am worried in the way neighbors are worried about each other. Selfishly, very selfishly. See this person has had a riches to not exactly rugs just more like t-shirts with average size holes in them. He used to be a ladies’ man. You know the kind that loves them then leaves them without a backward glance, rides on to the next conquest like Don Quixote on Rocinante. On ward mighty stead! Unlike Don Quixote he had many sidekicks that left around the time he lost the horse. He can no longer have them over for parties or treat them to a night of reverie at the local ‘Hilton’. Do they have reverie at the Hilton? It has always sounded too stiff upper lip for the images that word conjures.

Anyway, back to my neighbor. Having lost the horse and the sidekicks and the side-sidekicks he went through all the stages of grief. Yes, I have a window and I am nosy. So he tried to pretend he wasn’t facing tough times, he grew out his beard and put on ratty t-shirts for a while, then he disappeared into his house for a month and then he was back to his usual self. The beard was the highlight of his entire grief for me. If you have met me you know I am a facial hair enthusiast. Handlebar moustache *fans self* oh babe.

I said I was worried. See lately my neighbor has gone back to the ratty t-shirts. They have holes and might be abit unwashed but don’t trust me on that I haven’t cleaned my window properly either. Now, his buddies keep knocking on his door and shouting his name and he won’t let them in. The other day he was trying to get into some ladies place. It is probable it was innocent but then he could have called instead of trying to sneak in.

What if he comes to my house next? I have this steak knife that is my whole security system and I am always losing it. What if all the single girls move away and families move in? I don’t want to move. Not because I don’t like children playing outside at 7 on Saturday morning but I don’t want to feel like the INVENTOR OF SINGLE.

PS: If you are in Kenya and have a position for Political Science graduate, tell me about it.