Writing is difficult.

Photo Credit/oseh.wordpress.com
Photo Credit/oseh.wordpress.com

Writing is nothing easy. When you get into it you must be prepared to make your own slave. Am not sure that makes sense. Writing is difficult.

So it is three months since I was here last. With all the good plans I had for “bonarerimaisiba” in 2015. She was my number one new year resolution. I needed to customize my domain. Do posts twice a month. Commercialize the whole thing. I went as far as bargaining for the design and domain hosting. God knows what happened. Writing is a hustle. Needs too much dedication.

Maybe I was out there doing other things. Better things. More important things. Priorities. Plain lie! I know I have been busy doing less constructive things than I should have done here. Maybe I could have saved a life that was lost to suicide. Maybe I could have saved a relationship that is now a by-gone case. Maybe I could have saved my own relationships.

I learnt from a friend that the things I write here make sense, at least to the people who care to read them. People make different choices, different meanings from the the same scripts. We were coined differently. We read messages in diversified ways. And make our won interpretations, maybe customized to suit our needs at the moment. Writing gets more complex.

I read so many other blogs. A blogger friend Shiku Ngigi introduced me to an awarding winning blogger’s site that never disappoints. Biko Zulu. These two are my inspirations. I read everything they write, word after another. Biko Zulu does a bit long posts, I must confess. But I always find time to read his posts. Even when I am too busy to pick calls or even respond to text messages. It is that serious. I one day want to be like him. Dedicated and famous. Who doesn’t want to be recognized for what they do anyway?

All said and done. I am back. I needed something to bring me back. Something in record that I actually struggled to get where I will be, in a few (whatever that means). That when I will have beaten Biko and taken the award of creative writer from him I will refer you here. One step at a time. One day at a time. I will be there.

Ps. I write to put food on my table. I write to settle my bills. I write to clothe. I write to earn a living. So when I am not writing here, I am writing elsewhere. Undisclosed.


Second Chances………

You know that hypocritical promise “It will NEVER happen again?” I don’t trust it. It always takes me to the times of “I will NEVER hurt you.” Gets me thinking. How am I supposed to trust you for a second time that you are out to paint as first? Weakness. Once the initial trust is gone, whatever comes after will always be secondary, coming with limits. The preceding dark days hurt just a little, they are always expected, save for the unknown time.

I know all of us will ask for second chances at one point in life. It happens in various places. This is about me and you. The two of us. A chance into my life. A chance into my heart. A chance to share my delicate heart with you.

I hate being asked for a second chance; actually I never give second chances. Thinking of it I always say nobody deserves a second chance from me, God gives another chance all the time. I am human; allow me to be just that. The “its over” moment is always the worst, but one way or another it most times happens over a cup of coffee, over lunch or in rare cases over a WhatsApp chat. Sigh! It does gonna happen there, maybe. Then you will spend a day or two waiting for the response, which probably will never come. Silence is also an answer, you tell yourself and move on. Worst case scenario. Its only wise to man up or woman up and respond. You asked for it, anyway.

So here I am.  After days, months and years of soul searching, a couple of sleepless days and hardworking nights then you decide to accord that “second chance,” perfectly painted as a replay of the paused movie. These relationships actually are movies. So the drama continues. Some flashbacks here and there, the things that make you stick to the main role. Takes you to the weeks that went by without a word from either of you. Happens always. To the days you argued out on everything, all the time. To the” bounced” dates. To the things you hoped he stopped doing, at least in your presence. Scenes will always shift. The movie has to go on.

Now here you are. On it for the “second” time. This time by choice. Feels worse than ever. Should have avoided it. He feels less sorry, inside his head probably wondering why this “intelligent” girl can’t just see he is passing time. At times he will hint at you that it ain’t getting anywhere, focused on making the second chance work you will ignore all the signs.

Time waits for no man. I always remember this from my childhood friend, never waited for me to tie my shoe laces those cold mornings as we ran to school. As you stay wishing things will work out your counterpart silently moves on, slowly turning the hints to excuses and eventually to reasons. Your photo  appears and disappears as his phone screen saver all the time. Takes a day or two to respond to a “morning babe” message on WhatsApp. Mh! Probably never calls, picking the call that comes after the five missed ones. Will always be away from the phone. Develops a new trend of sleeping earlier than before, all calls past the working hours bracket are “late night” calls. It’s a second chance anyway, requesting for a third won’t be as difficult.

There is everything wrong with according second chances. Don’t abuse the freedom of choice. Never ignore the hints. Never abuse the first decision. If you have to burn bridges to avoid using them again, go ahead.

second chances

My 2014 Tragedy

This is not about the things I imagine while idling around. My 2014 was not a year to sit down and idle. It was one of the most serious years of my life, the kind of years I never wanted to get out. A few days into 2015 and it all got spoiled, that I never wanted to live t again. Matters love.

I listen to the Roxette hits. A lot. They seem to have the words that explain the mystery of love. But there is this specific one that I always listen to when I have to mend my heart. Yeah, it has happened a countable number of times. My friends call it “kissing frogs” but I hate the quote.

“It must have been love
But it’s over now
It must have been good
But I lost it somehow
It must have been love
But it’s over now
From the moment we touched
‘Til the time had run out.”

Trust me these are not the kind of words you want to hear barely a day to the new year. A time when love and family things fill the air. A time when most engagements and marriages are going down. A time when most “lovers” probably celebrate their anniversaries, for the kinds who met in some end year parties they had been invited by friends and such funny stories. Mine will always be different.

My foreseen 2014 tragedy happened around this time. I took it bitterly, accepted quickly and moved on. I had to anyway. However, I must say that this one happened in a very weird and rather awkward manner. It never caught me off guard, it was so clear and I had almost gotten over it.

Things do happen. Life has to move on. I actually shared with a friend or two and both thought it was a big joke. I had to make the story as humorous as possible. At some point I laughed at myself. I could say it was bad, but not as bad as it should have been. But there is always light at the end of the tunnel. This I must say. Life got better. Things changed.

“Love doesn’t ask why
It speaks from the heart
And never explains
Don’t you know that
Love doesn’t think twice
It can come all at once
Or whisper from a distance”

In my own little thinking, when it gets to a point where every action comes with a reaction, love is no more.

                                                                                                      love ends


An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life. She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands. She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar.”

You know your marriage day is almost when time and again love and marriage thoughts cross your mind. Right, it scares the hell out of me. Being one of the ladies that dread marriage life, I guess it freaks me out whenever I think about this. Of course I try to occupy myself with every other thing just to ensure the thinking gets nowhere, truth is the day is coming. Maybe not long from now. Maybe today.

One wonders how this is happening on a Wednesday morning. I know its ladies day or night? Whatever. It has little to do with my life. To me, Wednesday is nothing more than one of the days I dress up well, I do less on Tuesday and Thursday then obviously Friday is the dress down day (the next time you spot me in a suit on a Friday just ignore). So here I am, thinking about what it is like to be a wife. This takes me to Proverbs 31, any serious man quotes that. I want to marry a Proverbs 31 woman.

Yester night I burnt the midnight oil wondering how fast my classmates (primary, secondary and campus) made their marriage decisions. Not with a purpose of doing comparisons, but maybe to tell if I have personal issues with this institution, or it’s true it needs time to get there. People were created differently. People have different lenses with which they view life. While I am here thinking how difficult it can get being a wife, leave alone those 9 months that you have to walk around with a distorted shape, elsewhere someone is thinking of the sweetness of submission and offering motherly love. That’s life. So now that most of my age mates and friends are in there, I am out, I will stay out for as long as I want. I will keep thinking of it. I will one day get in. I want to be there but it’s not urgent. I will soon be there.

Here I am today. A friend calls asking me out for a cup of tea at 10:00 am. I see nothing wrong with that. it was not wrong, it informed this post. There is a time in my life I heard a rumor of I getting married to some dude in a few weeks. That was then, it never happened. A few weeks ago I met one of my many uncles in a hotel in town. (All men who measure up to the age your father qualify to be your uncle and Kisii is the only town where I come from). He is actually not even a neighbor. We stay 1 KM apart, but he is my uncle. I hadn’t seen him but he shouted my name, forcing me to walk up to his table. The handshake and congratulations!!For a minute I thought he had mistaken me for my big sister who has kids. He went on. “Am glad my daughter. I will buy you a big cabinet” (okay. He meant those old day wall units. I hate anything in the name of a wall unit. They make little sense). So this guy has planned a wedding for me with a man I am yet to meet? I thought to myself and walked away. I didn’t say a word. I just appreciated and left.

Today. Again! “You mean you are getting married yet you have not bothered to let me know?” This was the prayer my good friend made for our tea. Then it was a moment of silence as each of us sipped from that hot cup of tea. My phone rang. My feet moved back and front in my shoes. My car keys fell from time to time (hehehehehehehe). For a moment I thought I was still dreaming. I looked around with my eyes wide open and confirmed it was real. I looked at her and there she was, worst of all you are joining up with my distant cousin. That did not catch me by surprise. All Kisii’s are related. But I had a task at hand to deal with. I had to convince her that none of my friends even know who I am going out with. Maybe some do, lest I have to part ways immediately I hit the Publish button.

I recently read your post but thought you were kidding. She kept on talking, not realizing I was already fed up with her. I am not patient and anyone claiming to be my friend knows that. I had to find reasons to leave. And I actually did. The man purported to be walking me down the aisle in a few days is not known to me. He is not even a friend of a friend; he is a total stranger to me. For a moment I thought I could be having a twin sister whom I am yet to meet. I still dread marriage life; I am not wedding any time soon. I am still debating with myself if I will eventually go the wedding way. Especially when I know I will be confined to the church walls for hours, get women and men screaming as I take that hypocritical marriage oath. No. I am not sure I want to be part of this.

I have that hope of being the Proverbs 31 woman. I am yet to find probably a Chronicles 21 man or something. What will I use to gauge a worthy man? I am not old yet. I will one day get over the fears and uncertainties and probably walk into the institution; I have got no plans as yet. Don’t try forcing or hurrying me in, this may add up to the years already set. When I want to get there not everyone will know, but once in I will scream and shout, post photos and videos, tell of how much we love each other in all social media platforms, make him my profile and cover photo, tag him in all my posts, probably blog about him. I will be walking besides him when he wants me to and I will ensure I introduce me to you when I want to. In the meantime allow me enjoy by singlehood. Drag me not into relationships am totally unaware of and weddings I have not planned for. You will not even make a part of my wedding committee. I will/may not have one.

marriageEcclesiastes 3:11 “He hath made everything beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.”


You know it’s Monday from that photo of a young boy holding his head, wrinkles on the young face and tears flowing. It makes little sense. When I was young all days were just the same; unless I had somehow enjoyed too much of the hide and seek game until I completely forgot about my maths homework. It used to make me wear that face. Things have changed. It’s now years since I was there. Days have passed. Years. I am now old. Things have changed.

Anyway, what is the hype that comes with Fridays? You know it’s Friday when you walk into an office at 3:30 PM and the Secretary tells you to call in on Monday morning. Hey madam, the boss is away for weekend, kindly check in on Monday at 10:00 AM. This is what am always told when I go knocking on some government offices on a Friday afternoon. It happened twice, I thought maybe the boss had been away from the previous days, maybe on official duty somewhere outside office. I was wrong, weekend runs between Thursday afternoon and Monday 10:00. Am not sure people think before adopting such a norm. I know they thought it out before eventually setting into practicing it. That they think of the effects of their exaggerated weekends is what worries me the most. At some point I tried but it never worked. Maybe because I am still being bossed around. Just as I was enjoying my extra hours of sleep on a Friday morning I got a call from one of my many bosses. You know what that means.

Just a few years ago I was a student. My memory cannot take me back there, the reason am not sure I used to have Friday classes. But at least I remember Friday used to be one of my most active days. I remember meeting for group discussions on Friday nights, at a friend’s house of course. Then later for some nice dinner done by a male friend (I miss them. Whoever lied that men don’t do good cookery). It was during these Friday meetings that I came to like Larry Madowo and his trend show. I never used to care about it. At least not when I was not sure how he selects his guests. Then I remember when he bought his S 5 or was it S4? He was all over with it. I actually noticed. Then I thought to myself, it’s the Friday hype in him. It also happens with Lilian Muli Kanene. Okay, am just fixing these two into my Friday issues. Am not sure they have fit in well. I could spend the rest of my Friday night hours in doors with that clique of human beings I used to walk around with Shiku Ngigi, James Mwangi, Zephaniah Raduma(I know he will take offense of that name) and Stano. At least these are the people that faithfully kept all my evenings busy. It was amazing. I remember us arguing, disagreeing and going silent. But it never lasted. I also remember the days I spent quality time at evening prayers. Especially the unique days that we went in the company of Mwangi; the worship experience. It still defined my Friday evenings perfectly. Less of this hype am seeing “out” here but more fun.

Campus life was. It is now gone altogether. And here I am, in a world with all characters. An environment presenting to me more choices that I actually need.Not that my past years had no such choices, but at least they were not as good, demanding, compelling and at times determined as what I have at hand today. Especially this Friday evening. So much at hand to choose from. Well, I am number one fun of rugby. Thank me for having attended a mixed secondary school where rugby was the thing. I am torn between catching the next flight to Nairobi for Safaricom Sevens. Heaven knows I want to be there as badly as I want to get my way to Suneka Hide Out for some moment with a people I treasure (Am even not sure this is going to fall in place). Away from my campus clique is a new bunch of human beings who are just amazing. Dougy, Naf, Mc Kenyanch, Alex, Okeri (if you know this guy from MU don’t give me that look. He rocks. In his own little ways.) and Kenmo. You guys are amazing. Lest you are left wondering, I hang out less with girlfriends. I only keep one at a time. She doesn’t do Fridays. She is key in making my Saturdays work. Fanice Kerubo Obara. Thanks for your friendship girl.

And here a text comes from a friend. Mchoro? It got me thinking. I had not made my Friday decision, I may end up not until I get to understand this. I personally see nothing special in Fridays. Maybe that the next day is not a working done, probably only for people who have lost touch with their office seats. Am in love with mine. I sit in it for as long as I want to be there. I wake up on a Saturday night and all I want is that office feeling. This renders this ideology senseless. So what actually is it? I go out when I feel like. Actually my friends will bear me witness Thursday night is our nice Friday. It’s amazing. Yet we make it to wok on Friday still in a sober mood and with all the strength we need to move around. I am not saying that’s all we wake up to do, but the nature of our work makes us move around so much (seems today am set to defend everything).

Truth is I will be somewhere celebrating tonight. You probably will. But was the motivation behind it is may vary. It’s still well. Live life to the fullest. Have less time to worry of the stupid things you do. It happens pretty much. Take time out and be alone. Party as much as you can. Life and good friends can be such a reason. Have a lovely partying Friday evening.


I got this from my Whatsapp images. Am not sure who to photo credit

It is a New Dawn of Women Domination Unless Men Learn to Adapt_2

Mummy says this isn’t good for me, but I keep asking where she clearly draws the line, if ever a clear line can be drawn on this. She believes in affiliations, she believes in mentors and confidants, she hates a do it alone ATT (as she calls it) but at least she appreciates that is her, and not me. Maybe this shouldn’t be the case in a daughter-mother discussion, but am glad we both have very diverse personalities, sometimes I wish I had taken after her, her stress free life that gives the hope of seeing another day, the way she easily sails through difficulties that wear me down, the way she deals with very difficult people with little energy, yes I do love her for that, just that I can never be her. All said, I still remain to be me, the me that has to so painfully chase after happiness, the me that has to stand on her grounds no matter how much pain accompanies her, and the me that least often compromises on her ideologies.

I know none may agree to this, but a change of my ideologies causes me much pain than the chase after happiness. I say this since it took me almost a lifetime to come up with and stick to what I believe in, it was a process, one that cost so much heartbreaks, pain, time, relations and so much to be achieved, and every time I get a call to change this my heart sinks into pain. I recall what it took me to gain this, I recall of the people I had to shake off to make the process complete, I remember the chances I lost of having a better future, it pains my heart because I only can tell the tale of the process, I went through the process alone, and I swore to myself to defend its results to the very end. I feel so close to the edge and many are the times have found me here.

I sometimes want to sit back and watch things happen, but I always get a way through the wilderness. I consider this yet another time that have reached the end of the tunnel, never will I settle on turning back to where I was, not to the high density pain have ever gone through, not into me life of misery I dwelt in for so long, not to the days I could die to keep the relationship, I choose to set my eyes on higher things, I settle on a better life, I want to be happier than I am and more than I have ever been, I choose to continue with the race, the chase, the desire and the reality will soon dawn on me.

I wish not to speak for you my dear one, but I choose to acknowledge that you too are yearning for this. I have never known happiness, as I could say. I have known pain, I have known sorrow, I have been hurt and I have cried. If I could recall of an instance when I last had a genuine smile on my face, then I could go years back. The days I hadn’t known what life is all about, when the principle of ask and it shall be given worked pretty well for me. I never knew pain, I never knew struggle, and

I never knew sorrow. Sadly my happiness was based on an individual, I hadn’t known how well I could scatter my eggs, I lay them all in one basket, and the day they broke I lost all. I had never pictured such an occurrence one day, I lived in ignorance and naivety (as I could say), but still I can’t take the blame, it all goes back to my age. Am a strong believer of maturity beyond the age limit, but I equally admit I had no control over this. I fell in love, in pursuit of happiness; I lost friendships with unbelievable people, in pursuit of happiness. I knew of one person that could make me happy, I thought I could walk with my first love the rest of my life, he promised love which he did deliver, he promised life full of smiles and remained faithful to that, he never hurt me, never at any point, for the twelve years I walked with him, he remained faithful.

But I sure did lose him, and then my life became unbearable. I lost him to the monsters of this world; I count it a betrayal to me, that the circumstances under which I lost him still remain unclear to me. It was the people he trusted most, even with me that separated us, it’s the people I thought were positive with our relation that snatched him from me, yes I cried, not for a day but forever, there came a time and I swore against falling in love again, in pursuit of happiness, I settled into a lifetime mourning, if that could make him happy in his absence. I ran for happiness, I cried for happiness, my life was full of misery, I had to change my character, I lost my original self to another self, a self that I had to adopt in search for happiness, a self that I sure knew was not mine, but I had to stick to that, in pursuit of happiness. I say this with so much pain, I say this with so much sorrow, have run and sought for happiness, I know none can replace my love, I need not be made happy by others, I need not force anyone to make me happy, I need not cry for him since he is long gone but all this I did in pursuit of happiness.


I hadn’t learnt my lessons well. I could not pick his calls since he had kept me waiting for “hours.” I have never done it before. I am always on time. (No!!! A voice is telling me now. Lilian you have kept people waiting for ages, and they still don’t scream at you when you eventually turn up. You actually did it today in the morning.). I always ignore this voice. It was now five minutes and I had been standing close to White-stone Hotel (A now extinct hotel in Kisii Town). I did not understand why I could spend another second of my life waiting for someone. I do that almost every day. I walked away.

Patience is the word. It’s a virtue that most people lack. I do. If you’ve ever made me wait for you three minutes or so then you have probably heard a share of my sharp vocals. “Patience is one among the things that God faithfully denied me” goes the usual statement. I know it makes little sense, if it actually does, but time and again I do say it when angry. I don’t know where I got this from. I used to be very patient; too patient that my big sister used to tell me to stop being stupid. I remember the childhood patience I had with my primary school teachers. I lied down stupidly ready for the strokes of the cane (now this sounds too primary school) after having scored 98% in a mathematics test. That’s how bright I used to be. Lol…..not that so much has really changed, but I guess as I lost patience with people, so did I with books.

See, I wasn’t patient enough to tell the story to the end. Anyway all I remember is just as the teacher was about to drop it, my sister, then in class 8 and I in 7 rose and called on him to stop it. I was in sobs. I was not weak but I was too patient to stand for my rights. I was riding on the benefits of having had a big sister for a schoolmate. She stomachs no nonsense. She acts to face the consequences later. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. She taught me not to be stupidly patient with people and life. So I was finally not beaten. She saved my behinds from pain and suffering.

So many years later and I lost this golden virtue. Over years I trained myself not to wait. It all started in my high school. I will live blaming the school’s culture for my lost virtues and values on patience. What could you make out of an institution that offers you nothing but busy schedules whose importance or results you cannot tell? I hated those 15 minutes part of lunch mathematics practice things. It may sound weird, but thanks to Mrs. Ng’eno (I pray she got over that damn stroke) the then “Nakuru Girls High School” principal I had to do it. Then it clicks my mind I have been writing this post for the third day now. I have been stopping after running impatient with the Kenya Power Black outs that we are fighting back home. Probably I will not finish it.

Anyway, I need not talk more for you to note that I have not learnt to be patient with people, not even myself. My mind betrays me the most. From the words in this article it’s evident I have a long way to attaining civilization; yeah, for the few who think wasting time in useless meetings and hotels in the name of patience is being civilized. I rather be considered backward and naïve but save my time. Time that I will probably spend writing such pieces just for you. Or maybe scrolling through your Facebook and twitter timelines to know what you are up to. And lately my possession with politics. Had I been a bit patient with life I could have probably been a nominated MCA. Lolest…that broke my ribs.

It is a New Dawn of Women Domination Unless Men Learn to Adapt_1

It had never occurred to me before that the struggle towards equality between men and women had reached an almost uncontrollable stage. This remained true until recently when I was directly involved in settling down a family issue that to me was a bit weird. It took me so much time to understand why the mother of the house could refuse to carry out her chores as a woman, on grounds that she too had just checked in from work and was equally tired as the husband. She then decided on having a nap on the couch, which she repeatedly reminded her husband she had bought with her own money, probably expecting him to do the evening duties. I happened to pass by their place to check on them, not knowing I could be dragged into their domestic issues that were almost tumbling down their home.

Negotiating between couples over equality issues has seemed a hard task for me. To begin with, I did not understand my role in this negotiation. I did all I could to avoid taking sides in a bid to balance between the two and try get them out of this problem. I struggled through the truths and realities, at least to ensure that peace was achieved between them. I acted fully as a counselor and took all my time to listen from both sides then try my way out of the fix. I thought it over and over again; the effects my advice and decision could cause on the lives of these two people. A people I had known to have been so much in love and in agreement before there was a drastic turn in their lives and worst to say towards much negativity. I had to be brave and wise, I needed to play my cards well and get them out of such an ordeal. I could read between their words and in their eyes that they needed help so much. They seemed so tired and fed up of this fight for equality but could not find a way out.

I considered some time to make some reflection on my life as a person. I was not any better as compared to the woman that was involved in this situation. I had my own ideologies on what good life was and for a moment I took time to reflect on my past life, how much I hated being a slave of a relationship and being intimidated by men. People say I do feel so good of myself; I may neither quantify nor disqualify such a belief as truthful, but all I know I rarely do give up on the race and chase after happiness.

I cannot set it as a one pack, for reasons known to us all, it’s really a long process. I too desired it could never take too long to get, or rather achieve, but it has never been within my powers to decide. I know am this kind of a girl who sets her eyes on something and never rests until she gets it, but as long as what the subject here is worth the pain, struggle, and most importantly the time. I had set my whole self towards gaining happiness, what I desired most was the peace of mind that I was so assured could come with it. However, I went wrong in some way, and I know this I did but giving in to the facts has proved even harder than the main mission itself.
I am an injured party of these circumstances as I can put it, I say this bitterly because I never thought in life I could be befallen by such a tragedy.

I knew not how much good it could have done me if I ever thought of getting myself a confidant, I imagined of the betrayal I had experienced at the time I lost my first love and decided I was going to go it alone, the entire process, the pain and the hardships I went through, the many sleepless nights I went through, the precious tears I lost, the many days I had to spend in those hospital beds, the self I had to painlessly lose, I had to do it alone, in pursuit of happiness. I say this with pain, but at least not as much as could have been caused by the people I could have possibly chosen to trust. I rather had pain that came from me, than from the people I could have set my heart to love again, I rather had sorrow deep within me, but at least I could not lay blames again, I hated and still do hate this, I love it when the pain I have to endure through is self-made, I think am this kind of a person that wants to be unique and there can be only me existing, a life without so many attachments to so many hearts, a life of sole and self-governance, the life I always wanted to have.

This post was written in 2012. A time I was a freelancer writer. It’s probably marked as a term paper somewhere, yeah right, I just took the first two pages. I will bring it here in bits. For the next few days. It was a 15 page paper. Enjoy!

Of Men and Women

I grew up in a family setting that presented to me men as a different entity from women. Oh yes. Not even being a last born in a family of six saved me from answering questions I was so sure my brother was better placed to respond to. Despite being young, I always sought to know why mummy chose to ask me why there were no vegetables for supper, cows had not been fed to her satisfaction (any “normal” African knows this is boys’ chores) and worst of all why there was no firewood. I actually used to struggle with that heavy axe in pursuit of pieces of wood as my brother probably sat on the wooden fence listening to soka.

Life was unbearable. I hated it. I always wanted to know why. Maybe by then I was so young to understand; so many years later I am yet to make sense out of the whole setting. Just that am now old enough to fight for myself. Old enough to look at my mummy and tell her the boys should worry of the cows as I get rained on in the garden looking for vegetables (Rain is a MUST in Kisii. Such a blessing). Men should just be men and women just what they were meant to be; women.

I am not an activist as some of my friends may be thinking. But I have never ignored the fact that I tend to disagree with what society has made us believe men are. Contrary to what many of you may be expecting, I am not and will never be a proponent of gender equality. I used to be. I tried it. It never worked. I learnt. And now I know better. God designed us differently; that women have their abilities which men can never measure up to and vice versa.

Anyway, the content in this post is not the gospel truth, especially bearing in mind that I bring forth my arguments based on my brothers, my boys and the men I have happened to share with. I always imagine marriage will serve me right. Then I will know what it means to lose breath when that pilau I might have tried to surprise him with decides to backfire. My married friends tell me its taboo to serve a husband with some poorly cooked junk. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” It gets me thinking if, currently staying with my elder sister, some meal intended to be sweet turning out otherwise could really snatch some nice part of my evening happiness. It has occurred, so many times. Those many days I had to throw some good amount of lentils because they burnt(namaanisha kuungua) as i was busy responding to a tweet or maybe enjoying the google+ storify. I simply scream, curse everything, throw my phone hard on the bed and move on. I couldn’t do that before my husband.

Now, my fellow women. I write this to bring to your attention the realities of life. For quite some time now we have been living in the ideal world. a) We are not as fragile as the male ego. I can be a witness to this. Tamper with a woman’s emotions, she will cry it out and move on. Men and their ego!!! It’s sad news. I know of a man whose ego I teased close to 6 years now and he is yet to get over it. b) We are always at the receiving end. We always pay the price. Like it or not it’s us women who end up as victims of the “sins” we commit with men. Yes, that moment of love and sex will haunt you as the lady. Until the man puts on his pants and walks away when you start vomiting in the morning it’s always us. Until you are forced out of school to nurse that baby as he boldly denies ever having any affair with you. He will leave you 7 months heavy, move in with your best friend and probably do the same to her. Those are men for us. c) We always have a choice. I am one person who believes in choices as opposed to circumstances. Yes. Women choose to go to bed with the very men that will later dump them, leaving behind “fatherless” kids. Unless it’s a rape case, it’s you as the woman that dressed up for him that evening he asked to take you out. It’s you that agreed to spend with him in that posh hotel room, probably lying to yourself that nothing was going to happen. I am a bit sensitive with men; I always believe when they are being too good to a woman they are focusing at something. Darling, you had a choice.

I am aware the claims above don’t sound so good to any woman that has been in that situation, you are not alone. People make mistakes. I too have; from the platonic relationships that cost me so much energy to break to the relationships I have had to walk away from. I tend to agree with E.L James “You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince” I have. It comes a point in a woman’s life that you have to live by your principles and standards no matter how ideal they may sound. Sooner than later you will realize the thing you used to hold dear never really mattered to you. Then in a while you will notice you were hanging on to people that never deserved you. It happens. If a man cannot be good when he is working hard to get you home, run. He will never treat you better once you are 8 months pregnant for him and relatively unattractive. If he cannot afford you a simple card on your birthday don’t expect him to afford a low-cost jambojet flight to Nairobi for free. Be sensitive. Read between the lines. Guard your life. Flee for your life.

“You must make a decision that you are going to move on. It wont happen automatically. You will have to rise up and say, ‘I don’t care how hard this is, I don’t care how disappointed I am, I’m not going to let this get the best of me. I’m moving on with my life.” Philippians 3: 13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead.

In Love

I am in love. I have been in love, just for a while now. I can tell that it’s all genuine, that eventually it happening. After all the wrongs and hurts that were probably self-created. Yes. I always lack an answer when asked if I have ever been in a relationship before. I know I have, like twice or so. But am not sure what exactly those were. Maybe I was involved in things I was not sure I wanted to do. Maybe “they” had forced it on me. Maybe I was just too ignorant to know what it was all about. But I guess I could still stand and say I have been in a relationship. I was hurt or rather someone’s heart was broken; maybe mine maybe his. But I have never cried or felt a big difference when they walked away. It wasn’t a big deal for me to watch them leave as I silently moved on with my books. I was still in school.

That I am finally in love, committed and so sure about it is no doubt. I have never acted as a wife, I want to be. At this point I can stand him talk to me about marriage. I used to view it as a big joke. Maybe that’s why the whole thing was too casual to me. It was just a friend zone with a difference, I could easily call them platonic relationships, but some still feel we had something. Heaven knows better.

I speak of love because I now understand what it takes to love a man. Condoning all the nonsense that comes along with him being of different character from you; it’s the hardest thing I have so easily learnt to live with. Worst of all is when you have to face the challenge of letting him know the things he may need to work on if the relationship has to be kept. I guess am still struggling with this. Love life has taught me to compromise so many of the principles that kept me out of my previous “relationships.” Yeah, that I can listen to a 5 minutes lecture on an agreement that I possibly failed to remember and still smile at the end of the call tells me much. I sure am in love.

Until I got myself in this I had some beliefs that I have had to drop: a) Calling a man makes a girl look desperate. How wrong I had been. I remember parting ways with a “friend” after a month of knowing each other. Reason, I could never call him. Not even when I got a missed call. Communication is always two-way. Silence is golden to a one man initiated conversation. So I actually pick that phone and dial him a number of times in a day. I am not desperate. I am in love. I am protecting my future. b) It’s him to suggest an outing. I will not say much on this. Most times we are out; it somehow originated from my side. c) He can leave if he wants. So it actually was. They always felt enslaved and finally walked away. In as much as it never used to bother me much, I always thought it was unfair but was too proud to talk things over. It always ended just like that. d)He was a passersby. Don’t give me that look. I was the kind of girl who believed in the soap opera kind of love. It never happened, it’s finally happening but in another form. Had I walked into this with the same mentality am sure we could have part ways. He is the right one. At least for as long as he is with me.

Love is real for as long as the parties involved choose to let it be. I still believe in one thing; love lasts for as long as the two choose to protect it. For as long as they want to be in love. For better and for worse. In health and in sickness. In poverty and in wealth. I will always love you.