ADULTING IS THE SOUP AND I’M THE FORK: LESSON ONE

One of the best things I thought “adulting” would offer, growing up, was the sense of
independence; having your own money, spending it on whatever, not having to be asked where it
went or what it was spent on and having to defend your expenditure is what I thought I would
live for. Only being accountable to me? Oh Yaaas bring it on!

So here I am at twenty one. I have just walked into a store. Five thousand is the budget and I
have a shopping list at hand; every item with its estimated amount. I am organized like that (let’s
have a quick laugh at this, haha). Anyway, I am one of these people who have read Arese
Ugwu’s Smart Money Woman, Darren Hardy’s the compound effect, Robert Kiyosaki’s Rich
dad Poor dad, David Bach’s Smart women finish rich (name them) and I am currently
implementing the lessons (I think), so let’s say I can navigate my way through a store with only
five thousand at hand and ready to spend not a shilling more.

I have learnt to do the boring bit of the shopping (groceries and everything kitchen) first, so that I
spend what usually seems like an eternity at the skin and beauty products shelves; yes I am a
Tina typical, I do love to glow. I grab a cart and begin my fifth favorite adventure. You should
see me during the first bit of shopping, I have this way of “grab-and-drop in cart” that usually
signifies I’m in a hurry, which is never the case because it’s all planned for. I only occasionally
stop to check the expiry date and briefly compare prices. Otherwise, I’m taking these short rapid
steps like my shoes are too tight.
And then, I begin to walk unusually slowly. The moment the light waves from anything that can
go into my bathroom or dresser hit my iris, it’s like I’m someone under hypnosis in one of those
Brain games episodes. I enter a stupor of sorts. In this section, ingredients to every product are
carefully scrutinized and googled even. From the sanitary towels to tooth paste, from hair gel to
nail polish, everything. It’s only proper for me to let you know that this is where my austerity
meets a roadblock. Hold up, roadblock is a huge understatement. It always appears like there is a
never-ending colorless screen from ground to sky that only lets me through and not my primitive
austerity. It never occurs to me that it’s left behind until I’m back home withering in regret. Once
I unconsciously walk through this screen, my eyes don’t glance back even for a moment, the next
time I’ll see the list is never. My face is buckled and I go in a downward spiral; spending more
than intended because I cannot resist the urge to try new products regardless of how I get the
extra money.

Take 4987693625, once again I’m the fork.

The thing about being an adult is you think, if it’s up to you, you got this. And you’re always
reminded that it is up to and you don’t got it even when you think you do. You can make rules,
you can build boards, write them in big bold reds and you can make them as stringent but this is
a process of invention and reinvention that never ever stops. Personally, I have never wanted to
intentionally make mistakes my peers have made so I strive for prevention. Sometimes I win and
other times… well let’s say I fall short because fail or lose isn’t vocabulary I allow near my
dictionary.

Mastering money I think is something you learn and learn and practice until you get better at it
because I think you can never be outstanding at it.

When I get home I will call my mom, I will
ask for lessons, though I already know what she’ll tell me; it’s a shame, but restraint isn’t a
joyous and mellow ride.

I think I liked it better when everything was managed but I have to grow up.

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“HEART” matters.

There probably isn’t a trustworthy person in the country who won’t say at some point that campus sucked. I mean I’m still in campus and trust you me I’m saying it kinda sucks big time. There’s the drama, the freedom, the same people, learning how to function as an individual and the monster of them all a chaotic dating scene. My opinions may be different from yours, but hey this is my column, not yours so let me pour all my jibber jabber down for you to criticize. 

We know, we know. The pressure to date in campus is simply overwhelming and often all-consuming particularly for those who came here as adorable snow whites. The dawning of a new stage and the twilight fading to blackness, lit a fire in all our guts. Not just literally but metaphorically as well. The drabness of the day being burnt away. Downtown the neon lights shining from clubs and bars and no one cared who anyone really was, we sparked in ourselves the kinda fire that made us go nuts and wanted a second party to confirm that maybe we still had a little sanity even while we were so deeply lost trying to find ourselves, looking for the so called soul mates. In clubs, ladies in skimpy little dresses with makeup I can’t even quite describe. Cat eyes, smoky eyes, matte lipstick, bullrings and knee high heeled boots. The DJ hits the button and “kamatia chini” booms and all their heads disappear and let their a**es do their job. It might just be up to having a good time but oh well if you pick up a n***a in the club and he makes you feel some type of way… the one you let destroy you, devour you, pick you clean. Others pick them at discussions, the way he speaks just makes you feel like there’s a stampede of all the African desert animals in your stomach, or maybe the cliché butterflies. Maybe at random conferences or walks at the farm… no one knows.

 And day by day you waste watching as he bleeds you, his knives slicing shallow cuts in your armor and you’d still blindly beg for more. You’d crawl to him on your knees and ask for new wounds, new injuries for you to endure not just for him but for you too. You’d let him burn you, scar you until your fingers, your face blurs and sweats down all your beauty into nothing and you’d keep on rebuilding it and pleading for more. He ruins you with every word that oozes out of his mouth and you crave for more like it was a congenital addiction that no remedy in the medical history can cure. You look at him ready to cry, to beat yourself up, all the time. Not out of pain nor need but because those very words rub that part of your soul that suffers and wants to be explored and craves occupation, appreciation and most of all transformation. You both burn on the edge of sorrowful beauty, your flames raging against the dying light. You want him to hold your hand, wish your skin warms against his but the mercy you need for the witchcraft that you find yourself in just to feel your heart skip a beat. Personally I wouldn’t want a heart attack, I mean with the way this is going. But you anyway build an inferno in homage to your love knowing only embers would remain even when everything else is gone. You go in circles and circles, the torture whirls your mind. No tornado has caused a greater destruction than this and to only think it’s the beginning… “Does he love me, does he love me not” becomes your daily portion. You’re certain about how you feel, you wish you’d be the “it” for him too. 

He seems like he feels some type of way for you, but in a world where tissue engineering is no longer just for accident victims, but for anyone who has a need to camouflage, you take a pause and watch out for the horizons. You may think they’re peaceful antelopes grazing by the savannah because of how their soft brown hues blend with the backdrop just for them to emerge as freaking lions. It feels right to follow the beckoning of your heart and leave what feels insecure. You finally realize that you are addicted to the pain, that it is what feels familiar. Being used only when he needs to. It was never really your choice to be in the situation. You only did it because all your friends were in relationships and it created a want in you to have someone to love you. Anyone. You know you deserve better but you no longer remember how to be alone. It’s a scary prospect to walk away. Until you finally see what you did not want to see. That you were not exclusive, you were alone together. No matter how much time and love you poured into this, it wasn’t enough for him to make you his one and only. Then you begin your cat and mice games. You make an attempt to avoid him while he searches for you possibly to say he is “sorry.” You both know he is sorry for getting caught, maybe sorry for you thinking it was only you but not apologetic for breaking your heart. When you talk about it to your friends and everyone says he is a jerk and you deserve better you can’t help talking about the first day you met. That when you asked him to talk about himself, he declined and said all he wanted to do was hear more about you. How could you not fall in love with that? 

You cry silently by the night, wear smiles that NEMA would probably have you arrested and fined 4million because they’re plastic, waiting for your heart to be returned to you. Your shattered heart and every damn piece of it counts. In your desperation, even a new one at this point will do. You need to recollect it and sit in the dark stitching it piece by piece to the a millionth.

Babe, you’ll pull through, we always do. Don’t be afraid to wear your golden scars as a badge of honor. I mean you were put through the hottest of fires and came out stronger! Just because you have scars doesn’t mean that other people won’t see the beauty that lies beneath them. You may have been foolish then, but you know better now and someone else could benefit from the tragedy that once was. Someone out here needs to know that they’re not the only ones that have gone through this or is going through this. Let’s empower one another. 

 (But hey not everyone had such bad first relationships. Some had a pretty amazing love life and some had none at all. People experience stuff differently. Don’t kill me haha)

CHAINS and SWORDS

I know how it feels like to be in chains 

To pull back and forth in vain

I know what it is like to fight in the dark

To fight monsters you don’t recognize 

When you stick and stab with needles

but just through air

Yet they have swords 

Thick and made of the toughest of steel

They pierce through your skin

And cut and slice as they please

And you cry and wail and scream and beg for mercy

But they don’t speak your tongue

they don’t comprehend your language

They go on and on

no rush, no hurry

You watch your flesh drop in cubes,

and your blood splatter like paint

not on walls or shoes or clothes

but on faces

faceless faces

your hair falls strand by strand,

your mouth dries,

your voice becomes coarse,

your nails like thin glass begin to crack

so do your teeth

and in no time, your bones follow soot

you are cold and broken and distorted and lifeless

your body can’t take it

no more

it gives in

you give in

and suddenly you can see them

and feel them

and smell them

you can understand when they speak and move

you can communicate 

Then it occurs to you

all they ever wanted was for you to be on their side, in their world

for you to torture

to suck and squeeze life out of people just like they did to you

all the things you’ve never thought of doing 

at least not to people

but it’s a little too late

you’re one of them

Faceless 

putting people in chains

and you don’t hesitate to use your swords

it’s a game

chains and swords

A certain injustice in which not everyone always gets what they deserve.

Let me just begin this by jogging your mind a little bit. Have you ever encountered a caterpillar? What about a butterfly? Great! Its common thought that a caterpillar is gross but a butterfly is beautiful. Well if you did science at any stage of your life, you may have been taught the life cycle of a butterfly. The caterpillar is the larva stage and it does almost all the work. It’s the stage at which most feeding occurs, molting and what not. So why is it that the caterpillar does all the work and the butterfly gets all the publicity? Isn’t that some type of injustice? Do you ever notice it as a person? Ever thought about it?

Well, before I wrote this article I never noticed it. Being a science student I know that the butterfly is responsible for mating and for me that was way more work than just feeding, excreting, feeding some more and then shedding some skin or in this case exoskeleton. But now that I’ve just sort of thought it through, the caterpillar deserves a lot of respect. It’s not easy looking for the right green leafy plants to feed on, and feed until it’s more than full. And as if that’s not enough, it has to shed its exoskeleton which I’m assuming has to be a painful process and it also looks gross and scary. That’s a lot to deal with to be honest.

And now I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing this. Like how is it helping you in your life? Well I don’t know but what I’m thinking is if such injustice happens naturally in nature because society chooses what to glorify as it sees fit in its eye then it’s for sure worse in humanity. But even if it somehow happens to you, know that even if you’re not getting all the fame or popularity or acknowledgement, there’s someone out there that will one day recognize you for what you’re doing and the amount of work you’re enduring just for survival of the next generation. That’s if you’re patient, because it may take longer than you actually anticipate. I’m, however, not totally against the idea of you taking matters into your own hands and taking that publicity for yourself if you do want it as opposed to sitting and hoping that someone brings it to you.

Stay positive though! 

My Kenyan dream

I have a dream

That one day elections in this country will be nothing to be nervous or worried about

That we will treat that period as any other

That it will not be a time for Kenyans to be divided along ethnic lines

But a time to unify under our democratic right and constitutional duty

I have a dream

That one day we won’t worship political leaders

That we will understand that we hold the power

That we the people, choose them

That we don’t think that they are better than us but that we believe in them to lead us

That they will not think of us as vessels of violence

But as the masters to their service

That one day being a governor or senator or whatever

Won’t mean anything else but service to the people

That it won’t mean “an opportunity to get oneself to Forbes list of the world’s richest people”
Although that’s not a bad thing as long as it doesn’t involve swindling and any other malpractice
I want to believe that one day we’ll understand

That at the end of the day, we’re all tax payers

At the end of the day, we’re all Kenyan citizens

Kenya is bigger than all of us

Dear politicians,

And I’m only using “dear” in the most conventional sense

Not because I have any affection for most of you

But because it is traditional and respectful to begin a plea that way

Kenya is bigger than you too

You have a following, platform and influence, sure!

Use it to make the world a better place

The world needs all of us

Africa needs us

Kenya needs us

And we need each other

Amen.

Hurt

Pain pain

Go away

Come again another day

I’m tired of being trapped

Tired of trying to get you to notice me

Tired of pulling all these stunts

I want to be the real me when I’m around you

But the you I see doesn’t like people like me

Doesn’t want to be associated with the likes

You see me, maybe

But you don’t see me that way

There’s so much to me

Than just the girl in glasses

Than the girl that spends eighty percent of her time at the library

Than the girl that spends her leisure reading Dan Brown

Than the girl who is socially impaired

You pretend to like them

To be like them

To do stuff they do

When you’re just like me

And in this imperfect world,

People like us should stick together

It hurts

To like someone who may never give you even an ounce of their attention

To like someone who is capable of liking you back

But is too scared to risk anything

Because they seem to have everything

It’s not like I want everything

I just want you

And I hate the fact that the heart wants what it wants

Because I don’t get to choose who I like

If I could, I would

Unfortunately,

All I have is pain.

Pain pain

Go away

Come again another day.

Waiting

Do you know what it’s like being in solitary confinement?

Just the feeling?

I know you don’t

But I do because you’ve put me through it

When one is deprived of

Sunshine

The external environment

Human interaction

When one is treated like a caged animal

Like they don’t deserve to live

Like they live on loaned air

And the only right they have is of them being alive or dead

What’s the point in living anyway?

What’s the point in fighting so hard for someone you know you’ll never have?

In holding onto a love that already faded?

In listening to love songs when you know you’ll never have love?

What’s the point in breathing?

When the only breath I want to feel is yours in my ear

Is there a point in longing to get out?

In wishing to see the rest of the world?

I’d rather not live

Than live to see another day in a world where you aren’t with me

I’d rather stay in here if I have to

And be insane

Go mental

Than leave and be constantly tortured by the image of you with her

Do you even know what it does to me?

To my soul?

You probably don’t

Because you can’t understand something you’ve never felt

You can’t comprehend something you never knew

It truly is detrimental in here

But it’s a price I’m willing to pay

In hope that you’ll be mine again

Even if that little candle of hope is slowly burning out

And soon all this will just be some stupid history and I’ll be the foolish persona