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Imperfect Duo
The imperfect duo that gave me a home, and even when we disagree they are still home. A beautiful set sent only for my heart to experience not only, the beauty of humble beginnings but the elaborate joy of a firm family.
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Christmassy show-off
I feel angry with a sprinkle of bitterness. I have never been grateful to be far away from family like I feel right now. The last place I would want to be right now is with my larger family. I don’t want to share a meal with people who think you owe them your life. People who will stoop so low to remind you every chance they get how you would not have survived if it were not for them. People who act God.
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For the love of sex
I have been on mother earth long enough to learn to be more comfortable in talking about everything sex. A complex topic. Learning and unlearning what sex is and what sex isn’t. Most importantly I have unlearned that sex isn’t bad manners. Sex isn’t sin. I wonder how many people refer to this act as “tabia mbaya” bad manners. I picked that up as a child as sex always went by that description. For me, having been brought up in a household most of you would be familiar with, sex wasn’t and unfortunately still isn’t an easy topic to dive in with the folks and even siblings. Mention the word…
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Wet kisses on a wrinkled face
Sometime last year I had a vital grown-up conversation with my slowly aging dad. I hate to say aging because well, he is daddy and I want him to forever show no signs of aging at all, to stay strong and healthy as I’ve always seen him to be. I have the fondest memories of him. Like, I remember him bringing us vanilla and chocolate wafers anytime he came back home from work and us running to his open hands, him picking us up without staggering and one by one throwing us in the air and us landing back into his arms. At times we would cling onto his body…
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We lived and to more years
Sometimes I am a bit naive not to believe that there is evil in this world. That some people can be so hard-hearted and jealous in a situation they wouldn’t even gain from. Honestly, I don’t understand how someone can be so evil and negative minded to actually sit and plot someone else’s downfall. How they can wish for the worst to happen to another human being. How they utter hurtful and painful remarks on someone’s life. At what cost? At whose gain? I have been celebrating the birthdays of my two amazing younger brothers. Born back to back but different years. My mind took me back to when they…
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A struggling sister
Being an elder sister to my younger siblings, I’m not sure if I should be forever grateful to the higher being for awarding me this role or to sulk in the overwhelming duty I feel attempting to measure up. The responsibility that this role entails for me is sometimes too much or maybe I take it too seriously than I should hence why I have decided to write and share this. Maybe I have it all wrong and your insights or perspectives on this might lessen what I feel at times. I would very much appreciate your advice/comment/input below if you resonate. One of my major challenges of growing older…
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When loneliness kicks in and you miss home.
Things are completely different to what you were accustomed to. The air smells different too. When it rains, you miss that earthy smell in the air. It seems like forever since you last smelled it. This is something you never paid much attention to. And you dread to forget that smell. The streets are lonely. There are people yes, but everyone seems too absorbed in their own thoughts. You can’t tell really if people are too slow or too fast. But somehow there is that liveliness that’s missing. That liveliness that ascertains you of home. One of the little things you like to do is watching people and trying to…
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Spoil the child, spare the rod.
I would love to dance around the idea that I never bothered my parents during my adolescent years, or ever in my life. But who am I kidding? They might have a different version about that, which I highly doubt. Wait, they might tell you of that one time they sat me on the edge of their bed and lectured me about boys. I was in form 3. Sweet sixteen and showing breasts. Breasts I couldn’t hide anymore underneath my oversized sweaters. I still can’t recall why I was embarrassed of my body growing into curves. I developed a different walking style, bent forward kind of, and I was afraid…
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You left and were forgotten.
I recently wrote an article by the title Unloved, which I hope triggered someone somewhere to reset their line of thought and believe they deserve love and that they are loved. Hope you already checked that out. I‘m back here for those who have ever packed their bags or even none, but made the decision to leave home for reasons best known to them or certain circumstances made them to just leave. Found themselves in a far away town or country and by Gods grace they settled. Kind of. We can call them diasporas or run away kings and queens. I know that doesn’t fit so well. But isn’t almost…
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Unloved
There is a particular kind of people who whine uncontrollably of how unloved they are. I mean, we are all human and very needy humans at times. We all want to be seen, noticed, taken seriously, cared for, pampered, mention it, in ways we sometimes don’t even know how. And in wanting to receive what we crave for so badly, we will most times try to manipulate the ones in our lives to get it. I completely sympathize with people who received close to no love while growing up. Because I know it has affected certain aspects of their lives in ways only they can comprehend. Those that walked through…
true storytelling from personal experiences and inspiring stories from my perspective