I Wish You…

28 missed calls, 57 New Text messages and 9773 WhatsApp texts. I still hold on to my simple stand. If you have a plot for me, don’t call me or text me, just come home and tell me about it. If you don’t know my home, kindly lets meet on the jungle at January 15th, 2017.
At this point in time, if the plot doesn’t involve tagging along my football team of kids and playing around hide and seek and performing flips on the grass by some thicket or a walk in the park, count me off.

We start off the car and all kids got to their feet in excitement and took their positions at the windows peeping outside. Some excited about the trees ‘following’ us. Others are singing Christmas carols as they pull the tip of my Santa cap and ‘hide’.  Others are excited about the cloud of dust left behind by car.It was all filled with excitement and noise that showed what this road trip meant to us.

The kids throw in hilarious questions from all angles and I responded instantly to avoid making them look at me. This was easy when they needed a Yes or No for an answer.But immediately they needed explanation, I was tired.
Dan why did God make mountains out of rocks instead of using metal?
Dan why did God make the tarmac road to the mountain narrower than the one at the supermarket? Do you know the boots you bought me can stamp of Satan till he cries?

It’s all giggles and screams until I found myself literally chocking with emotions. I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. They all were looking at me and asking why I was crying.
I burst into a dry laughter and pretended to be surprised.
“I am not crying. There’s so much heat in the car that my eyes are sweating!”

Thankfully they started wiping their eyes as they too  started feeling the heat. Deep down the truth was different. I was undergoing an unbelievable transition. It all started twenty years ago. Ever since I started walking, I have been walking barefooted on this trail. To the market. To school. To the fields with a flock of sheep. To the river to fetch water. And everywhere else. 20 years later, I am now going to all those places seated, holding the wheel or at the back left examining this reality. Indeed life changes.

Before long, we reached a road block. The traffic police were as excited as the kids were. It’s probably been years since they last saw Sleek Car ,and/or with a foreign plate along this road. We were inevitably stopped. This could be Christmas Jackpot for them. They won’t be getting ‘Kitu Kidogo’ this day, with big cars come big things.

They examined everything as they take several cycles around the car but there’s nothing to jump start a conversation that will lead to our leaving ‘Christmas’ to them. They all salute and make way for us to pass.

Ten minutes later, we finally got to the Game reserve. After hooting for some minutes, a gentleman comes running. He was in a grey shirt and brown short. Needless to say the original color of the brown short trouser was white, while the grey shirt was black. But life happens you know.

He asked us to feel free and wait as he goes for the keys to the Reception/Office. We walked around the littered compound as we watched numerous livestock grazing around the ‘office’.
I got a little busy reading the prices on the sign post besides the office that I pretend not to comprehend the conversations between two men who attempted to clean the compound after seeing us from afar.

“These ones don’t come from around. They seem to have lots of money. We should ‘Milk Them!’ ”

Thirty minutes later the gentleman returns with a key and opens the door to the office. He overstated the price by 100% claiming that the sign post on his office was outdated.  Indeed they were determined to ‘Milk Us’.

Immediately after paying the gentleman offered to take us around the park. We walked for ten minutes without seeing any animal. We could only see a malnourished Zebra from a distance looking at us. We turned to be the wild animals running around its ‘kingdom’ disrupting the peace and tranquility that it had grown accustomed to.

This is when he disclosed to us that almost all wild animals that the park was famous for, died long time ago. Including the rhinos. The only reason I chose the park despite its proximity from the town was because of the rhinos. Ever since I was a kid, I used to hear stories about them and wished I could see them but I never had that chance. Now when the chance and money came, the rhinos were missing. I was disappointed.

This would be my ideal holiday. My most awaited one.

Surprisingly, I was the only person who was disappointed. All the kids were already having moments of their lifetime.They  ran around the bushes and screaming at the top of their voices. They played hide and sick along the way and made fun of each others’ walk.

Isn’t it funny how we spend all our life looking forward to a moment that will mark an ideal job, vacation, spouse? Consequently, we forget to enjoy the process. Yet the value is in the process. The fun is in the process.

There is no destination called joy, happiness and success. Joy is waking up and traveling safely to see your family and finding them all fine. Happiness is embracing them momentarily and dining together, regardless of what you eat. Success is losing toxic people who made you focus on material things to give you Joy and Happiness.

I wish you Joy, Happiness and Success in 2017!





Herfrica is the kindest ladies you could ever wish to encounter in your entire life. Her amicable spirit and warm personality is one you wouldn’t trade for anything else. So when she invited me for a coffee date, I couldn’t give it a second thought. This date let me  into the world beyond her beautiful smile. A world decorated by tears, sweat and blood.

So this girl was only five when it happened. She had been in a family of three…her mum, bro and her. Her mother had previously moved to the city to seek employment after successfully fleeing an abusive relationship which would have certainly ended her life if she didn’t call Jesus on that fateful night that she escaped.

She left her two children with their grandmother amidst threats from their father that he would surely torch that grass thatched house that the grandmother lived in one night if they don’t consider getting back to him. Luckily he didn’t make good his threats.

After a tough year, her mother was able to secure a job as a PTA teacher. This helped to live with her kids to her new place.  Her children could not join school immediately because they could only communicate in her vernacular. They had to stay home for a whole year. Meanwhile, the kid’s uncle also came to stay with the family after dropping out of school. Let’s call him Uncle Devil. They all lived in a single room partitioned into two by a silky black curtain.

With a salary of Twenty thousand Kenyan Shillings, Queen’s mum could not sustain her family together with uncle Devil. She had to start tutoring students at different homes to get extra  pay.

One day, while Herfrica’s mum was out in her usual tight schedule and Herfrica’s brother was out playing, Uncle Devil called Herfrica into the house. She ordered her to get behind the curtains and lie on the mattress at the floor. He then closed the door moved towards Herfrica. She was terrified but she couldn’t scream because she knew the uncle would beat her up. She felt something was totally off and got more confused.

The uncle proceeded to undress her. He tore her inner pant and blocked her mouth while pressing her against the mattress. He forced himself into her. She cried in pain but nobody was there to help. He then took a machete besides the mattress and held it on her neck. He promised to chop off her head if she ever spoke out to anybody about the incident. She was forced to lick off all her blood from the mattress and clean up the house. Henceforth, Queen grew up traumatized and detached. She became afraid of darkness and quiet places.

All the while her mother was so busy making ends meet for the family. She barely noticed the immense changes in her Queen’s character. She kept wishing that the Uncle proceeded to chop off her head immediately after the act so she wouldn’t have to live on and experience her life after. She says, it was like dying every day but you don’t get to the other side each time.

Her worst experiences every day after she started schooling came when Uncle Devil had to help the mum take her to school. He always insisted to carry Queen to and fro school. Unlike other kids who looked forward to going home after school, Queen always cried whenever she imagined being carried home by the uncle who molested her sexually and staying with him in the same house.

When she turned 13, her mum noticed the discord in her conduct and took her to a counselor. She shared all her traumatic experience. This helped to nurse the wounds in her heart. Queen’s mum apologized for her absence in Queen’s life but the damage was done. She had learnt to face her demons alone. Though she forgave them all, it took time to trust anyone around her. She had developed a solid personality where she’d rather smile and dismiss people, than let them know that her heart was in flames.

 YouTube Video; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtxbyiQ1-xo&t=198s

Tears Of The Son- GoodBye Phills ’16!

I was seated there, broken hearted. The ONLY piece of biscuit I had preserved, had escaped my mouth. Immediately I dipped it in and out of my juice, it broke off and fell on the floor. On normal days, I’d apply the 3 seconds rule- Grab it before it gets to the floor. Even if I missed it, I’d pick it from the floor. Germs are not aware. This day was different. I had three awesome visitors. My prayer partner (PP), Mercy, Emily and Joe. I tried to secure the place my biscuit had fallen so that in case they leave early, I’d pick it up and eat it. But you know Mercy. In her jumpy state, as she tried to forcefully reach for my peanut butter, she stepped right on it. My heart scattered into pieces. I tried to grin in pretext of not knowing what had happened. My biscuit was Gone! What happened to submission?


Muchai the PPs you gave me bully me all days. Do you mean all the discussion about submission didn’t bear fruit? I heard there was a heated discussion on this topic when I missed BS the other time. Immediately after reading Colossians 3:18..all potential feminists became vile snakes almost spitting venomous words against the society’s requirements for submission. Sadly I missed it. I really wished I were there to see how BS was that day. The kind that makes Felix forget to ask whether there is Tea afterwards or a bigger cup for refreshments.


I was shocked to discover that even in her ever quiet sense during most Bible Study, the Persian Butter cup was an ardent contributor to the discussion, I wonder which side she supported. I wish I saw her in action that day. All I know about her is her characteristic silky, black, natural hair that typically identifies her with her elderly beauty pageant wise sister Joyce, and her chubby cheeks.

I would have asked Benja about the proceedings of the day but I know he had absolutely no recollection of the ongoing discussion. Given that I know the effect of the intense day we had had, he wasn’t really a reliable person at the time to ask about the details of such deep conversations. Well unless there is a Lingala background music playing. In which case he would be very attentive by all means. I wouldn’t want to speak much of him because I might find myself confessing that I catch him off guard 100% staring at…

Dottie too was there! She is famous for her mellifluous voice and the way she sets the mood of singing. She puts on a somber face of cluttered emotions almost like one who is about to cry and goes…”We worship you. …We lift your name Lord!” Then the congregation transcends the mood…worship begins.


Evelyn is so adroit in God’s word! When we are amidst a tough argument about why Fello shouldn’t eat meat slaughtered at a Makumbusho by his neighbors back home because it is meat offered to Idols. Or Kove’s neighbors who regularly steals cows from another Christian neighbor expecting renewed forgiveness, you just see her shoot up her hand, burning with passion.


Then you notice Josephine, Pricillah, Joyce and Ndanu too are burning with zeal. They want to deliver the biblical perspectives. First, Josephine shouldn’t be given such chances. She always makes me feel like I have never touched the bible. She just knows so many scriptures related to one thing. She intelligently brings them all in her explanations. By the time she finishes, I always feel BS should be halted and an altar call made. Refreshments can be served as we meditate henceforth.


Ndanu is another one. She is soft spoken and gentle with her words, but full of content. She speaks with a speed governor, editing each thought that comes off her mouth. I knew how smart she is during Trivia. Like other contestants, she picked about 12 random papers with bible verses written on. She was able to recite the texts from the quoted verses flawlessly! I was challenged. Backto the BS session, because many people want to contribute, she humbly passes up her chance.


You guys know Joyce. When she says she is going to be very brief or wants to say something in a sentence, she takes 5 minutes and 47 seconds.  Her one sentence has 17 comas and 13 verses right? The problem is, she engages you in her talk that you hardly notice the time flying. We agree now that she too shouldn’t be allowed to speak right? Her wisdom is saved for the last minutes.


The only person who gets this golden chance is Evelyn. And she never disappoints: One verse, period. The verse is succinct. It explains every question asked by everyone. You can’t imagine she was in her phone texting while the question was being asked yet she managed to answer it perfectly! She really encourages me to ‘…join Padh-We.’ (Pathway-a discipleship class in church)


This is where you know who Muchai is, a wise leader. She always knows who to pick for what duty. From someone who will make good Ugali during sleep overs to one who will plan what to buy when Fancy is shopping for Sophie’s kid, Baby Myles. Sorry I mean when WE are shopping for Baby Myles not Fancy. She knows who to call when she’s going for banana ride at Luna Park.

You don’t expect Evelyn’s chance to speak will come easy, do you? When the debate is heated and Kove is bringing more complications on a simple topic, everyone starts speaking. That’s when you pity Muchai whose shrill voice is suppressed. You can hardly hear her shout, “People. ..People…People. ..” All you can see are veins in her neck and you know indeed, leading a BS is a real struggle.


Anyway, after Evelyn’s verse everything is settled. Kadima is all smiles, I don’t know why. No I do know, I just won’t say it loud. Anyway, after her verse, two more people may cement it, say Pricilla with a real life analogy talking about the aspect of engaging one’s brain when reading the bible and not merely accept everything bombarded on their heads. Finally Fancy says what her mentor said and we move on. By the way, given that we know the gentleman behind the camera, needless to say Pricilla’s pictures will come out best.


This is where the two Engineering Zombies, Benja and I come in. To read the next verse. We are usually caught off guard wondering how such young people can have that much passion for Christ. To read and explore the bible to this level where they have all answers at finger tips. All I have at my finger tips such times are dirty, oily nails. After spending half my day standing in the Laboratory doing an experiment without getting results, only to be told four hours later that the equipment we are using are faulty.

Just after reading the verse, I notice someone in specs seated at the farthest corner with her legs fold. She is staring at me like a class 7 English teacher who used to beat us up because of errors in our compositions. You all know who am talking about. Mercy Muchai’s name sake-Yes Wincie! Precisely Teacher Wanjiku.


I always have a feeling that Wincie is the cheekiest person in our BS. But like Jacky and Esther, she is ever quiet following the proceedings. I have a feeling during the session, she’s just correcting every person who speaks. Silently in her brain she writes vile comments e.g ‘Poor English’ before awarding Oxygen marks (O2). I always looked forward to that day when she’ll get up and pinch everyone’s nose sighting collective mistakes, ‘Hapa dio mnapatililianga Ujinga!’ One day, this will happen people. It’s coming, Beware!

Alternatively, I’d have asked my neighbor at Mamlaka-Joe. But I doubt if I’ll concentrate seeing him explain. I’ll probably burst out laughing. He always reminds me of SpongeBob Square Pants. One of my most spectacular scenes was watching Joe amidst SLVs struggling to coordinate the movements of his hands and legs in the name of dancing. You were really awesome during  ‘Salt Leavers Special presentation’ Joe.


I’d have asked about the proceedings from my PP Mercy or Benia’s PP, Emily but I didn’t dare. You know those two WhatsApp emojis that show happiness and smileys? If our BS was a WhatsApp text, Emily and Mercy would be the two emojis.  Ever cheerful, a little clueless at times, but like Joshua, when an opportunity to speak comes, they are always on point.


Joyce and Chenye would be the laughter emojis, they are always happy. I only remember Chenye for her wide smile and passionate laughter. Remember your Form 3 Chemistry-Nitrogen? There was something called laughing gas. I think these two always have this element in their diet. Like Chenye just wakes up in the morning, washes her face, brushes her teeth and eats Chapo, Smokey and a cup of Laughing Gas. Keep it up Chenye!

I once met Tasha at agony Hill in the evening. I don’t like hugging her. Tasha has a towering height and physique of a model. When she hugs me, she has to crouch a little. The way you would bend to reach for Pastor John Lwawi’s hand for greetings. It is called being vertically challenged. Don’t you dare say short.


Anyway, I asked Tasha why she has been skipping BS sessions. She tells me, it’s because she was taking some Chinese/Japanese classes. This was not a surprise to me, given the size and shape of her eyes, Chinese is the way to go. Unfortunately she’ll be the tallest, black, Chinese girl. In USA blacks are called Niggas. In China, blacks are called Chiggas. Tasha you are my Chigga!


I wonder where Ruth disappears to on Mondays. I’d have concluded that she’s gone for a photo shoot. But as a qualified PSI- Private Secret Investigator (NOT stalker) I can confirm that she hasn’t had any significant recent shoot that’d guarantee her absensure. Her dp is that same one she had last Semester, with her lovely mum. From other sources she recently had just a minor shoot with core fashion. Ruth, where art thou?



Vinny is visually impaired, but when he decides to laugh at you, he does it really good that it pricks. He literally Laughs Out Loud. It mocks the hell out of you. He tells me often I look sharp. I mean am I this cool that he can feel it? See how bad I am in dressing? Always trust RaeDan elgant Wears for men’s official Wears in your life, wedding, graduation, Everywhere!

My most dear topics in Mathematics is Ratios. One of the things we were taught is the Inverse Proportionality Relationship. This precisely means one is the opposite of the other. Charles is inversely proportional to Wilson. Charles is Tall, Wilson is Short. Charles is Outspoken, Wilson is Reserved. Charles wears Official Coats, Wilson wears Jampers. Wilson Sings so well, Charles just makes a Joyful Noise to the Lord.


This has been my family in campus. With all her Glamour, Beauty and Brains Muchai intelligently stirred up family warmth amongst these crowd with diversified personalities. We laughed together, had fan together, ate together, fellowshipped together. But when it came to crying, they did it alone. While they were in captivity at Pangani police cells, I was on 540 Seat B02 destination Lamu! Hahaha I was happy to discover that Muchai and I share one thing in common. Despite all our intelligence, we given Supps at Pathway level One.


Now she’s passed the button to this warm and compassionate angel with mad love for Christ, Kerry, my other PP. With her love for her pet Chicken, I can already tell how many chicken will be in Phills ‘17. I am Luhya Kerry, I don’t mind the company of chicken. It couldn’t be better!

It is 4 a.m in the morning. I am seated in my Einstein Chair, alone in my room, in deep thought. As I Sip my coffee, every drop comes with hefty emotions and big memories. Memories about each of these beautiful souls I have shared my Campus life with. I wonder how it will be next year. I’ll be seated with Joshua, Mercy, Kerry, Esther, Emily, Benja, Emma and Vinny, not seeing each of your beautiful smiles anymore. You know Joshua and Benja Never Smile.


With each Monday morning will come a special memory about you, you are always in our hearts. If you want to know the real character of a man, give him power. Money is power. It is easy to be obedient when you don’t have money. It is easy to be God-fearing when you don’t have money. It is easy to hold strong to your values and principles when you don’t have money. It is easy to commit to church and other believers when you don’t have money. Watch Out! When money Comes your way, let it not make you Go Astray!

Keep your passion for Christ alive. Live for a greater course. Remember us wherever you are. Know that we are on our knees praying for you. Don’t Give Up! Grand A-Pic Photography is waiting to capture your beautiful smile on your wedding day.

And am looking forward to host you and your families monthly in my ranch.

These are my tears. Tears of the sun. Goodbye Phils ’16. Hell yeah Phills ’17!

Wanyonyi D.W


I Am Too Full Of Life To Be Half-Loved!

Long before my body learnt to initiate a chemical reaction just by a thought of a lass I came across by day. When I could look at a perfectly formed gorgeous lady without inadvertently having any underlying risqué thoughts. When I never got to worry about being arrested by luscious gyration of a female’s hindquarters. My mama taught me that, if you give your whole to someone, and it still is not enough, then you are giving it to a wrong person.
After years of consistent change of character, interest, passion and personality to please you, thank you for giving up on me. Thank you for believing that I’ll never be good enough and for making me feel like I’ll never be someone you appreciate or respect.
If it wasn’t for your constant disapproval and rejection, I wouldn’t have found my own voice and I wouldn’t have found the courage and the strength to fight your voices and follow my own.
Thank you for giving up on me so easily, you taught me how to fight for myself.
Thank you for not waiting for me or giving me a chance. Thank you for being impatient and thinking that this is all there is to me. Thank you for pushing me away and guiding me to a better place, guiding me to find better people who believed in me and accepted me and thank you for giving me a reason to walk away from you forever — a reason never to look back.
Thank you for not missing me when I was gone, thank you for not trying to win me back, thank you for showing me how l meant nothing to you. You made me realize that you were full of lies, you were fake, nothing about you was real and we never really had anything in common.
Thank you for your lies because they showed me the truth and thank you for your departure because it forced me to find new beginnings, to find new roads and to let go of the past that you were once part of.
Thank you for making me feel like I’m hard to love, thank you for choosing other people over me, thank you for making me feel unworthy because you taught me to see my worth, you taught me to choose myself and you taught me that no matter how difficult I can be, I still deserve to be loved. I deserve to be embraced with all my flaws, but more than anything, thank you for showing me that I don’t deserve you.
Thank you for giving up on me when I needed you to be there. Thank you for letting me down when I thought you would lift me up and thank you for closing the door when I came knocking on it.
You taught me how to survive, you taught me how to depend on myself and how to find my happiness away from you. You made me realize that I don’t have to be defined by how you saw me or how you treated me. You made me realize that I can redefine myself and my life.
Thank you for getting out of my life, I know now that losing you was the only way to find myself and I know that I needed you to give up on me so I can never again settle for someone who would easily let me go.
Thank you for giving up on me when I didn’t love myself, instead of destroying me, I built myself up, instead of making me cry, you made me smile.
I’m smiling because what you thought was a tragedy turned out to be my happy ending, and what you thought was an ending turned out to be my beginning. I lost you, but I found me, I WON!


The Lil' Mermaid

It’s 2016. I have decided that I’m gonna start to speak my mind unapologetically by writing my absurdly wild thoughts within quotation marks and tag them as ‘The Little Mermaid’ to make them sound more credible so that people believe every shit that I rave about. Let’s just do it sassy and a wee bit smart-assy.

“If people actually made love to the mind and soul with the same flaming passion as they made to the physical body, we would have long had an illuminated generation of spiritually, morally and intellectually elevated species.” 

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

View original post

The Politician You Have In Mind, Won’t Save The Country!

Those who are waiting for Raila Odinga to save this country, I am sorry.

Those who are waiting for Kalonzo Musyoka to save this country, I am sorry.

Those who are waiting for Peter Kenneth to ascend to the presidency and save this country, I am sorry.

The problem is not with the leadership. Even if we imported Obama or Kagame or Magufuli or a Mandela, we will still languish in the same soup of problems as before.

Kenyans are the problem. Our attitudes are the problem. Our apathy is the problem. Our lackadaisical nature is the problem. Our leaders, sorry to admit, only mirror the wants and attitudes of people.

We are all corrupt- and so, we get corrupt leaders. We are tribalistic- we elect leaders on the basis of the tribe they come from.

Look, what did you expect when you pocketed the politician’s hundred bob to vote for him? When they know that ascending to power is dependent on your financial muscle, they’ll do all they can to hoard funds in preparation for campaigns.

Like it or hate it, they hoard that money so they can BRIBE you to vote them into another term. And, fortunately to them, you will still vote for them.

Dear fellow citizens, what we need now is a change of attitudes- a cultural transformation. If we voted in leaders purely on merit and charisma and ideology and ability to lead and transform our country and our constituencies, then the leaders would hate to be caught up in any scandal.

But they know you don’t give a dime. They know the antidote to a bad reputation is greasing our hands with a few shillings and we’ll forget about their corruption scandals!

Let’s fight the monsters within us before we go to the forests to hunt for ghosts.

We need to resolve within ourselves not to engage in acts of corruption.

Stop giving out bribes to traffic police officers. It may be an inconvenience, but for the love of our motherland, brave the inconvenience. Go to court and say the truth.

Stop accepting handouts to vote in a particular candidate. Tell them off. Apprehend them. Vote them out. If you can, report them.

Stop sitting on a Sambaza in PSVs. Don’t board overloaded PSVs. Don’t be the extra load.

Generally, don’t cut corners.

I am not blowing my trumpet, but I have tried very much to give corruption a wide berth. I am fallible. I sometimes compromise on the principle- but I rise quickly and remember I need to stand up against corruption.

Let’s end corruption. Let’s start from within ourselves.

Share this post. I Just Did.


Get Up You Little Hypocrite! Go Build Your Nation!

KFC chicken is so expensive. It’s like their chicken lived a great life and grew up in a loving home with both parents, went to a private school and graduated at the top of the class with good grades. Having grown up in a continent infested with corruption, I don’t take this lightly. Someone MUST be behind this.

If a country is to be corruption free and become a nation of beautiful minds, I strongly feel there are three Key societal members who can make a difference; The father. The mother. And the Teacher.

We keep talking about Corruption, Poor Leadership and Pollution of Morals as if it’s a thing that exists outside our windows. We just see it through the glasses. It doesn’t do as much harm to us anyway, right? The closest it can get into our house is through a newspaper story of a land grabber adorned with the name ‘Private Developer’. Provided we have something on our table three times in a day, the rest can go to Hell! Tea for breakfast. Rice for Lunch. And Ugali-fish for dinner.

We reserve such issues as good morals for our idle time. After having a sumptuous meal and lacking a story to balance our diet with, we can think of such then. Immediately after, we fall into a deep sleep and forget everything. Such are blessings that come with a full stomach and an empty head.

In the morning you wake up late and rush to work. You drive with blithe disregard for traffic rules. We got nothing to worry about anyway right? It only costs Ksh.50/- to fix any broken Traffic Rule. That’s the beauty of being in Africa. In the US when a traffic police sees you reaching for the wallet, they reach for their guns; But in Africa, when a traffic police sees you reaching for your wallet, he bubbles with joy. Indeed we have made a difference. Proudly African.

In the evening our news are decorated by hundreds of accidents all over the country. Immediately after our sumptuous meals again we flee to social media. Condemning Bad Governance, Reckless Driving and Corruption. Some politician picks up the issue and decides to get controversial for PR purposes. We hold different views of the same problem. But we can’t tolerate each other and respect others’ opinions. We start fighting ourselves. The focus shifts from the Problems to out anthill EGOs. In the words of apostle Paul I will humbly ask, Ohh Yee foolish ‘Patriots’ who has bewitched you?

The ‘Caring’ government ‘Listens’ to our cry. A Commission worth billions is formed to investigate the accidents. The billions are depleted in one sitting. I guess such meetings are held in planet Mars hence the budget. After all there are no suitable places in our country to discuss such ‘Matters of National Concern’. Then Mr. ‘Chair’ calls an emergency press conference and release the commission’s report. We listen actively for hours. But we can’t tell the difference from what was released six months prior by a similar commission. The only difference we can see is the dates. But they assure us ‘it is different this time round’. As patriotic citizens, we believe them. ‘They said it, it is True!’

We celebrate the most decorated politicians in town who throw hundred shilling notes to youths. In one week, they spend 973% more than their cumulative salary for one year. Oh how generous they are! We even forget the rumors about their shady deals in drugs, murder cases and money laundering. Surely such a ‘kind’ person who gives generously to the thousands who attend his forums is indeed a good person. And haters are just trying to bring him down politically.

Here are a few facts for you;

– An imported fish from China to Nairobi (7894kms away) costs Ksh.30/- ; A fish transported from Kisumu to Nairobi(342kms away) costs ksh.170/- – Imported maize cob from Tanzania costs Ksh.7/- ; A maize cob transported from Kiambu to Nairobi (26Km) costs Ksh.30/- – Imported Sugar from Brazil through Somalia to Nairobi (11,342 Km) costs ksh.20/- per Kg. ; A kilogram of sugar transported from Mumias (where farmers dues trace back to 5 years)to Nairobi (326kms) costs Ksh.167/-

– A Kg of Rice from Pakistan(4736 Km) to Kenya costs 12/- ; A Kg of Rice from Mwea to Nairobi (6.6 Km) costs 155/-

– Approximately 10 people die every day on road accident in Kenya

– 12 Africans die of Hunger every 60 Seconds

– 95% of lethal Drug Barons are Politicians we elect to power

-The social media accounts for the politicians are managed by sycophants who are paid to play PR and bring good news. The negative issues on his/her leadership that you post on their walls are not taken to the ‘LEADER’(Mis-Leader) because the sycophant managing the account stands to lose his/her job. Social media will NEVER solve the entire societal problems in a holistic way.

All these ill-willed, hard-hearted mongrel men with morass morals are not all to blame for the discord in our life system. The fabric of society is not polluted by the misdeeds of the bad men, it is polluted by the silence of the good men.

Well, I have good news for you. You can change this polluted system. We need more principled lawyers, judges, police, doctors and officers. Instead, y’all want to be rappers and IG models soliciting fake popularity on Snap chat then complain about the government from a distance. To change the system, become the system.

So Get Up you little Hypocrite, Go and Build Your Nation! Be a good Father. Be a good Mother. Be a good Teacher. It can be done. But it can only be done if you play your part.

Dear Baby Siz

You’ve spent so many years looking forward to this phase of your life. And it always looked so cool. So glamorous. So filled with love and laughter.

Yet here you are. With knowledge that it’s anything but.

It’s messy buns and messier lives. It’s baggy shirts and overflowing laundry bags. It’s a lot of work and never enough money. It’s freedom with responsibilities. And life is no longer what it seemed.

Different people are doing different things.

Your best friend’s getting married. Your old classmate is killing it with success. Your ex is happy in love. Your old mate is drowning in drugs. Different people are doing different things. But not you. You’re just existing. You’re getting through everyday a little better than the last. But then you have days where you can’t get up at all.

You spend your Friday evenings holed up in a corner because you’re too responsible to drink your night away. Too control freakish to lose yourself to someone else’s tunes. But somehow, this isn’t enough. This life you’re living doesn’t feel complete. Loneliness wraps around you like a blanket you love and you wonder where you went wrong. Why you became different to everyone else.

“Did I do too much too soon? Did I not do enough? Was there a reason why it was never me? Is this going to be the rest of my life? Alone? Unsuccessful? Filled with dreams that never come true?”

And your hands reach out to your phone. One text. One call. To that someone who might make you feel pretty. Who might make you feel important. And your need takes over.

The need to feel accepted. To feel appreciated. To feel adored. To feel loved.

And it is so strong, you forget your sanity for a few minutes of flattery. You lessen your worth for dishonest words. The hurt in your heart, camouflaged. If only for a few seconds.

But it’s never enough. And when you wake up, it’s worse. The hammering of your heart so loud in your ears. A memory of last night frustratingly haunting. Yet another mistake. Yet again.

You scream hateful words to yourself. When will I ever learn? You go over those messages. Those conversations. How you fell right back into a ditch when you knew better. Just for a moment, you wish you weren’t yourself.

And in that moment, read these words:

Breathe. It’s not so bad. You think I don’t understand. But I do. Because I’m there, too. I’ve made that call. I’ve texted that wrong person. I’ve woken up with regrets. I still do. I understand that need to be held. I’ve felt that silent green monster towards a friend in love. Yes, we all make those mistakes. And we all think nobody else does. But they do.

So please, don’t hate yourself. And don’t stop. Don’t stop loving with all you have. Don’t stop wishing on every shooting star. Don’t stop dreaming of fairytales and being as amazing as Malala Yousafzai, Mother Teresa or Nkosazana Dlamini Zouma. You might not always get there, but don’t stop.

You have so much left to do. You have a world filled with life waiting to happen. You have books to be read. Steps to be taken. Places to see. People to meet. You haven’t lived half your life yet. There’s so much ahead. And in ten years, when you look back, you’ll wish you were here again.

So don’t waste it wallowing in your own sadness. Don’t lose yourself to your self-pity and non-existent boundaries. Use everyday. And I don’t mean spend thousands of cash and visit the extremely priced places. I know how you’re struggling to make ends meet.

Do the simple things. Stop procrastinating. Take a walk with nature. Go to the gym. Read your favorite book for the millionth time. Watch a movie. Write your novel. Sketch until you’re better than the best. Eat like you’re dying tomorrow. Call Mum and let her know you love her more often. Be part of her best thoughts as she ages. And most importantly, make mistakes. Your heart will heal. But today will never be back again. Don’t live with “Could-have-been’s.” Take chances.

And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS remember – It’s okay to be alone.

There is time to let your life revolve around someone else. But today, let it revolve around you.

Not because you can’t find someone. Not because you can’t be loved.

But because you deserve to wake up with a smile. You deserve to live life. To make memories so wild, you’ll be the coolest grandparent they’ve ever known.

Breathe. It’s only your 20’s baby Siz.

You’re going to be alright.


‘We Want Love,Not Commitments!’-Twisted Generation

We want a second coffee cup in our Instagrams of lazy Saturday mornings, another pair of shoes in our artsy pictures of our feet. We want a Facebook official relationship every one can like and comment on, we want the social media post that wins #relationshipgoals. We want a date for Sunday morning brunch, someone to commiserate with during the drudge of Mondaze, a Taco Tuesday partner, someone to text us good morning on Wednesday. We want a plus one for all the weddings we keep getting invited to (how did they do it? How did they find their happily ever after?). But we are the generation who doesn’t want a relationship.

We swipe left in hopes of finding the right person. We try to special order our soulmate like a request on Postmates. We read 5 Ways to Know He’s Into You and 7 Ways to Get Her to Fall For You, in hopes of being able to upcycle a person into a relationship like a Pinterest project. We invest more time in our Tinder profiles than our personalities. Yet we don’t want a relationship.

We “talk” and we text, we Snapchat and we sext. We hangout and we happy hour, we go to coffee and grab a beer – anything to avoid an actual date. We private message to meet up, we small talk for an hour only to return home and small talk via text. We forgo any chance of achieving real connection by mutually playing games with no winner. Competing for “Most Detached”, “Biggest Apathetic Attitude”, and “Best at Being Emotionally Unavailable”, what we end up actually winning is “Most Likely to Be Alone”.

We want the façade of a relationship, but we don’t want the work of a relationship. We want the hand holding without the eye contact, the teasing without the serious conversations. We want the pretty promise without the actual commitment, the anniversaries to celebrate without the 365 days of work that leads up to them. We want the happily ever after, but we don’t want to put the effort in the here and now. We want the deep connection, while keeping things shallow. We long for that world series kind of love, without being willing to go to bat.

We want someone to hold our hand, but we don’t want to put the power to hurt us in their hands. We want cheesy pick up lines, but we don’t want to be picked up… for that involves the possibility of being set down. We want to be swept off our feet, yet at the same time remaining safely, independently, standing on our own. We want to keep chasing the idea of love, but we don’t want to actually fall into it.

We don’t want relationships – we want friends with benefits, Netflix and chill, nudes on Tinder. We want anything that will give us the illusion of a relationship, without being in an actual relationship. We want all the rewards and none of the risk, all of the payout and none of the cost. We want to connect – enough, but not too much. We want to commit – a little, but not a lot. We take it slow: we see where it goes, we don’t label things, we just hang out. We keep one foot out the door, we keep one eye open, and we keep people at arm’s length – toying with their emotions but most of all toying with our own.

When things get too close to being real, we run. We hide. We leave. There’s always more fish in the sea. There’s always another chance at finding love. There’s just such a little chance of keeping it these days…

We hope to swipe right into happiness. We want to download the perfect fit like a new app – that can be updated every time there’s a hitch, easily compartmentalized into a folder, deleted when we have no more use for it. We don’t want to unpack our baggage – or, worse, help someone unpack theirs. We want to keep the ugly behind the coverup, hide the imperfections with an Instagram filter, choose another episode on Netflix over a real conversation. We like the idea of loving someone despite their flaws; yet we keep our skeletons locked in the closet, happy to never let them see the light of day.

We feel entitled to love, like we feel entitled to full time jobs out of college. Our trophies-for-everyone youth has taught us that if we want something, we deserve it. Our over-watched Disney VHSs taught us true love, soul mates, and happily ever after exist for everyone. And so we put in no effort, and wonder why our prince charming hasn’t appeared. We sit around, upset that our princess is no where to be found. Where is our consolation prize? We showed up, we’re here. Where’s the relationship we deserve? The true love we’ve been promised?

We want a placeholder, not a person. We want a warm body, not a partner. We want someone to sit on the couch next to us, as we aimlessly scroll through another newsfeed, open another app to distract us from our lives. We want to walk this middle line: pretending we don’t have emotions while wearing our heart on our sleeve, wanting to be needed by someone yet not wanting to need someone. We play hard to get just to test if someone will play hard enough – we don’t even fully understand it ourselves. We sit around with friends discussing the rules, but no one even knows the game we’re trying to play. Because the problem with our generation not wanting relationships is that, at the end of the day, we actually do!


This Dainty Angel was my Eye-Candy.Her breathtaking beauty was divine. It’s not a case of beauty that lies in the eyes of the beholder,her beauty is the standard for heavenly measure of how Angels should be adorned.

The radiant eyes,well trimmed nose and pretty lips brought my fantasy realm to existence. Her buxom blossoms and well calculated gait coincided rhythmically with the Comely hips as they gyrated left-right,causing dizziness as my head followed the motion inadvertently.

The curvaceous view of her back resembled a clear bottle of fanta. Her neck as slender as an a axe rod matched the P-shaped bottom that set the sliding magnificence of her fine legs at Utopia.

When her pretty lips opened,it was intelligence at its best,a true African goddess.It’s hard to decipher how she ended up barefooted in the lonely forest with a heap of firewood on her head and two malnutrition kids;one on her back and the other by her side.

On the eve of her 15th Birthday, when she refused to undergo female genital cutting,she found herself blindfolded and firmly held by six men.She couldn’t fight them all in defense using tactics taught by grandma.The men molested her in turns, one after the other for hours till she could scream no more, cry no more,feel nothing more.She passed out.Getting up she discovered this was done by her father,her uncle and 4 community leaders as a punishment for her ‘rebellion’. All along her mother was outside the house basking.All activities went on normally as though nothing had happened.

The council of elders dismissed her complaints as they termed the act “Consensual Sex”.

What the Hell is ‘Consensual Sex’! To me “Consensual Sex ” is just Sex.To say that implies that there is such a thing as “non Consensual sex” ,which there isn’t.That’s rape.Do not teach people that rape is another type of Sex.They are two very separate events.You wouldn’t say “breathless swimming ” and ” non breathing swimming ” , you say swimming and drowning.

The problem with organizations dealing with rape just teach women how to defend themselves against men who intend to rape them.They don’t teach men how not to rape women.Befitting solutions only come when we address issues from the roots.

Herfrica made me believe that at times the most beautiful smiles hide the most tears.She’s beyond what caught my eyes first.I apologize to all women I have called pretty before calling them intelligent or brave.I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crashed mountains. From now on I will say things like,you are resilient or,you are extraordinary.Not because I think you’re not pretty. But because you are so much more than that.

I would love to live and see a just world for Herfrica run on equality,with No domestic violence! No forced Marriage!No female genital cutting! But if need be,I will die advocating for it.