Our Millennials!

All babies come to earth with sheer innocence on their faces wondering where they are. I can try to picture their bafflement and being flooded with emotions. The immediate environment becomes cold on first instant as used to their mommy’s warmth. They are then subjected to pain when some defy the rule of squealing while other fluids are sucked from their nostrils and all. If you have seen it on delivery rooms or on videos you will think they are being subjected to torture because they are so small to overwhelm them with all this procedures. But in the end, it’s all part of coming to this world.

One thing for sure that should click to our minds is that if you look further, their tiny hands are tighly clasped. You might think that’s the only thing they are holding onto for support. In their terrified state and all the commotion going on in their world of thoughts. As compared to a person in their drunked stupor, inebriated, rocking back and forth and are all over the place, they have to find a posture that will make them feel composed or grab something to be steady.

So someone said that these babies little fists are a symbol of coming to earth with a purpose. A talent. A gift. And God sends us down holding those things. Some of us open them earlier than others. Some of us later on in life and some of us never do.

It is only you to sit down with yourself and contemplate if you have.

As we grow up, we embrace our teenage and youthful lives in different forms. But most of the time we always want to fit in and not be left behind. Every age has a trend that is cool and somehow you find everyone flowing with the tide. Our era was a bit calm and there are things that were considered like going overboard. But the current generation, the millennials, they have nothing to conserve.  They engage in every kind of miscreant activities. Every day is a party day. They never get tired or even have an ounce of subconscious talk to themselves. Starting with heavy drinking, scruffy ghast dressing, acting too cool to care, acting all entitled, talking non stop and even talking back without good decorum. The list is endless. We all have heard of them expecting too many perks on their first jobs, not being focused in life, driving carelessly and engaging on casual sex like it’s no big deal all come so swiftly without a care.

Some will feel like throwing daggers at me right now when they read this but it’s just the truth. Some of us or at least those a bit younger than me can be a little reckless. We see them; Our girls with over made faces, with their screeming lips and goofy pouts, chokers and weird hairdo’s.

It’s mystifying that these girls start engaging in sex while they still are too young and do not fully understand the repercussions of it all. Our boys; All truant with so much energy throw themselves on drugs and sexual abuse with the pressure to exhibit manhood. They do not get that it’s just the 10% of who you really are in the midst of all the hype and that it fades away just like smoke. That sex is not just swapping of fluids and the ogasmo of the moment.  They don’t get that ‘You’ as a person, are much deeper. A spiritual being and someone of more value and deserving.

That you have to fulfill your 90% and know your real purpose while still young to start reaping and enjoying real life benefits instead of settling for lust. May be us as Africans do not really know how to tackle this sex topic and that is why we have so many youths going astray. Preaching abstinence without cultivating a deeper understanding of sex only creates closeted perverts.

It is high time we understand and make our young adults understand that craving for sexual pleasure only leads to emotional pain and complexities that are not necessary in life. The emotional roller coaster of unwanted pregnancies or baggage of trying to be the cool kid is not worth it at all. The anxieties and depression after seeing nothing of value has been gained on both parties does not make you a better person. It only leads to growing cold over time as well as emotionless. The best life is keeping yourself from all negativity which includes guzzling of alcohol like there is no tomorrow, draining people and environments, engaging on sexual innuendos and exhibiting self control. Girls must confront the overwhelming stereotypes of sexually provocative body images, whereas males must confront macho images reinforcing masculine control. Re-defining masculinity should be the way forwad for our boys. All a human wants is intimacy. And we can create this by creating an all rounded ecosystem of connection.

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Parents should be encouraged to introduce the topic of sexuality and sex education early in a child’s development. How early this occurs is again influenced by the personal values and attitudes of the parents. Parents can also assist as interpreters of negative media images that foster inconsistent and controversial attitudes toward early sexual activity and promiscuity.

In addition, parents are encouraged to become knowledgeable about their children’s social lives. Monitoring children’s activities includes not only knowing where one’s children are, but also who are the friends and peers.

Positive psychosexual development is important in making a successful transition through adolescence. Adolescents need safe opportunities to relate to peers and develop meaningful attachments without bringing harm to themselves.

Let’s not let our generation fall. Let’s all rise together and make this world a better place. Leaving behind our purpose to help those behind us as our legacy.

Depression Sucks

Every time I come around the word ‘depression’ a tingling sensation is sent down my spine. This comes from the ‘affected’ side of it since I know how it feels to watch your loved one fall into this dark pit that they cannot come out easily. Not only if you have alot of patience which sucks and makes you want to scream at them to get a life as they are dragging you down as well.

I agree people get depressed under different circumstances when something really bad happens. And it’s sickening to undergo such situations when you had every ounce of a different shade of picture of how life was going to be. But just like a bang! life takes a turn on you. Maneuvers, slamps you down hard on the ground. Leaving your arse all bruised and may be  your coccyx broken.  Speaking of coccyx- there is nothing as painful as a bruised tailbone. I went to Karura forest months ago for cycling and my did I fall or not?! I knew how to cycle but it had taken years since my early teenage life. So a little reminder wouldn’t hurt anyone. Would it? Plus all my friends were doing it.

In Karura there are slight steepy slopes when you are approaching the waterfall if you have been to the forest.

So am on full gear, everyone is screaming and cheering and as I veer, I approach a rugged patch down slope and few meters away a mzungu lady and husband are jogging on my oncoming lane with their fluffy dog. There is no way to stop for me but clamp onto my breaks and jump to my feet only for my ass to land on the hard metal as it brushes the seat of the bicycle. And keep in mind it’s not just sheer brushing!

Shock, pain, embarrassment and tears which I tried so much to hide all overwhelm me. I let go of the bike and sit on the nearby bush as I try to put on a brave face. But it’s too painful. I cannot control my breathing. I clutch myself, cold and rigid yet put a smile for the mzungu couple who lovingly whisper ‘sorryy’ as they smile back and pass. My friends come and scooch beside me asking if I’m okay but of course I brush them away gallantly telling them I am totally fine I just need a moment.  Off they speed away and I still need more minutes to figure out the torturers long jouney back because I cannot ride again. To cut the long story short, I had bruised ankles, bruised coccyx and apparently even the sole to my shoe was torn apart gaping at everyone to see. For a minute I thought I was bleeding in there! I limped all the way back pushing the bike and cursing everyone for looking at me funy and for my friends not knowing the severity of my pain. It took three weeks of sincere dabbing of hot salty water and pain killers to my bottom ritually for me to start bending normaly. – Even coming out of bed had to be done tactically.

Anyway, back to my depressing story, a very close person in my circle got sipped into this dark pit where nothing seemed of importance anymore. She kept all her friends and family at bay and did not even answer calls or reply to texts. It got worse when she could call her office and miss work oftenly. I tried probing and asking but as I did, she brushed me saying she was fine. I knew she wasn’t and this was sending panic attacks on me. My mind would run down a ledger of slights trying to find ways to help her. I googled, asked for help from mutual friends, I vehemently prayed God to appear in what she was looking for but every night I felt I hadn’t done enough. My efforts felt like limbs stuck in some putty and this resulted to anger in myself. Anger in them.

She wanted to be okay but it kept drowning her back. And this affected everyone in her circle. The emotional tension was becoming un bearable. I remember having a happy exciting weekend and when I went to sleep I questioned my happiness. I felt I didn’t deserve it if my friend was slowly dying in some dumpster of a house because she could not even bring herself to clean the house. Many times I knocked on her door only to go back as she didn’t open. Her family could not get hold of her either.

My heart was sad and bitter with my stomach tight and twirling pushing staff down my anal cavity whenever I thought of her.

I pray silently that she does not sink or succumb to suicidal thoughts if she had them. And finally I resolve to send inspiring messages and biblical verses that encourage her even if she doesn’t respond. She sure gets them because they blue tick or I get a delivery message.

Occasionally she responds and each time I hope she is finally getting some light. Only for her to go back down the pit. I pray for my own sanity and I pray she gets tired of the darkness even if it’s her absolute last reason to get over her depression.

Days pass, weeks and even months until one early morning I get a text saying,” morning love, thanks for being there for me” And I slump down my chair with giddy warm relief and gratitude to God. I know she is in her journey to recovery and I know she is a winner. I keep praying and believing she eventually gets her life back.

On what I discovered about depression is that it never goes away when you want to. Some days you feel better, some days you feel being sacked in. Don’t underestimate the seriousness of depression. Depression drains a person’s energy, optimism, and motivation. Your depressed loved one can’t just “snap out of it” by sheer force of will.

You can’t “fix” someone else’s depression. Don’t try to rescue your loved one from depression. It’s not up to you to fix the problem, nor can you. You’re not to blame for your loved one’s depression or responsible for his or her happiness (or lack thereof). Ultimately, recovery is in the hands of the depressed person.

Sometimes it is hard to know what to say when speaking to a loved one about depression. You might fear that if you bring up your worries he or she will get angry, feel insulted, or ignore your concerns. You may be unsure what questions to ask or how to be supportive.

If you don’t know where to start, the following suggestions may help. But remember that being a compassionate listener is much more important than giving advice. You don’t have to try to “fix” the person; you just have to be a good listener. Often, the simple act of talking to someone face to face can be an enormous help to someone suffering from depression. Encourage the depressed person to talk about his or her feelings, and be willing to listen without judgment.

Don’t expect a single conversation to be the end of it. Depressed people tend to withdraw from others and isolate themselves. You may need to express your concern and willingness to listen over and over again. Be gentle, yet persistent.

On Yourself,

Set boundaries. Of course you want to help, but you can only do so much. Your own health will suffer if you let your life be controlled by your loved one’s depression. You can’t be a caretaker round the clock without paying a psychological price. To avoid burnout and resentment, set clear limits on what you are willing and able to do. You are not your loved one’s therapist, so don’t take on that responsibility.

Stay on track with your own life. While some changes in your daily routine may be unavoidable while caring for your friend or relative, do your best to keep appointments and plans with friends. If your depressed loved one is unable to go on an outing or trip you had planned, ask a friend to join you instead.

Seek support. You are NOT betraying your depressed relative or friend by turning to others for support.

It all works out at the end. Just be present be consistent and never get tired of motivating them. No one chooses to get depressed.



There are people with golden hearts in this world. I am a true believer of true inherent good from people. And you receive what you believe. You receive what you honestly ask and pray for.

Today I was earlier than usual at the bus stop. There were beautiful traverse sunrays that lingered, unlike the dark clouds and cold winds we have been experiencing lately. So I’m like, “thank God, no mud no cold and no traffic” I wait patiently for the matatu to arrive. On the other hand, so many people are waiting which means it’s not such a good sign. I resign myself to wait and push that thought away, but minutes later I start to wonder and at the same time panic. Where are this mats held at?

Standing in one position gets on my nerves after waiting for almost 15 minutes. I slug up and down trying to think what to do next. Just like that, I remember to say a little prayer to ask God for a means of transport and most importantly not to be late.

I dont know if it’s just me because I pray at the smallest miracles to happen when I see myself getting stuck. Be it talking and getting a point across to someone, I always pray. Be it having constipation, I ask for God’s help to get it out and it always does.

So I prayed asking God to show up. And  hardly five minutes had passed, a lady friend/an acquaitance whom I hadn’t seen and had already passed me stops, reverses to  where I was standing, says hi and tells me to hop into her car. I almost dropped down with so much grateful mirth and warm fervor deep inside my heart of how God truly answers prayers. I hardly know the lady that well but the few occasions we had met now created a deep bond just like that. And most importanlty to testify truly to trust God when we pray Him.

I left the crowd gazing and wishing it was them. And the thing with God is that when we sincerely ask, He actually gives in double portions. There was no teeny tiny traffic. I even had time to pass through mpesa shop and do my leisure accounts. Halleluiya!

95% Introvert

I dwell and thrill more in silence. You will find me hibernating in my room whenever am not doing something substancial. My haven! Yes. Am that introverted. I recent lazy talk which makes others ask me if am ok. (I totally I’m mostly). The weird thing about this character of ours is that it always nudges you to dread meetings. Be it in the supermarket, the streets or even that party you were over excited and confirmed to attend.

Whenever I find myself on such meetings I always pray that they go smoothly. That I find one person who we can really connect and we can always hang together. I wish to find a baby I can make myself busy with or gatherings that will just be ‘listening meetings.’ No interactions whatsoever.

So… have you ever found yourself in a matatu and there’s a person who happens to know you. An acquaitance for that matter. You exchange greetings and you being ‘You’ avoid the same sitting because really- what are you going to talk about? So you head to the back sit where when it’s time to alight they have to go their way without waiting for you. You wish they won’t wait up for you for that chinwag of “how have you been, its been long and other ados that finally end with ‘Otherwise…’ because of some sort of awkwardness in between.

You pray silently that they do not pay your fair because;

  1. It’s just 20 bob.
  2. You have to make an effort to thank them after arrival which leads to that lazy banter you were avoiding in the first place.

I mean, there are times when am broke I wish to find someone to offer paying my transport but sometimes it just is indistinct. It would quit be significant if you paid my bus fare to coast. And so I suck it up, smile and put up with the most uncomfortable moment before I get to wherever I am going. I don’t know if it’s just me but there is always that quiet serenity when you are in your own thoughts in that matatu or bus especially when you are next to a window. I can literally go to london and back in my head. I can remember 2011 fun scenario and chuckle at myself. I can look at someone and smile but am not really smiling at you.

I have a serious and real conversation going on.

Anyway, at the end of the journey I thank your kind soul and gesture for that fare. I will make sure to pass it on to the next person.

Living by myself has really made me learn to talk to people even though my desire is to keep it to myself. For starters, I could not live with a broken flush handle in my toilet. It’s not that I don’t know how to bring it up, it’s just seems alot of work allowing someone inside your circle. Inside your protective case. Your heart races at the thought of breaking the ice. This is especially when you have to explain yourself and give answeres. You have so many thoughts flushing in your head. All bouncing without answers. Buzzing of what if’s and How should I? etc etc.

Hanging clothes from the second floor was a nightmare at first. What if my pegs all drop down, worst case what if that white towel spews all the way down?

Mind you there’s water rationing. Am already tired from a busy day. Then I get back to kneading the towel? What happens to the clothes hanging from the first floor now that the person is not in to take them out as they have already dried? And if they are in how do I start knocking at their doors asking them to unhang thir clothes? My mind is a fog of thoughts that may or not have answers. Implementing them is what seems like  rock science for any person like me. It was insane!!

But now I get the hang of it. I can embrace my introversion and still be independent. Act and ask for my rights at the same time. It’s all in the adaption process. But am trying. I get to enjoy my quiet moments alone. It’s everything! Of course visits from loved ones are cherished, but when it’s over, I cope.

Until next time, lets keep hiding 🙂




Lovers Song

Pick up the pen, put it on the paper…
Write on my skin, bring me to life
Can’t start again, there ain’t no eraser
All of my flaws, you got them so right!

Everything is blank until you draw me
Touching on my body like you know me

You are my friend, straight and no chaser
Burns going down but it keeps me alive
Tell me the truth, I like the danger
Cause in the end you will be mine

Everything is gray until you draw me
Touching on my body like you know me

Write on me…
Color outside the lines
Love the way you tat me up
Baby take your time
Write on me
Give me some wings, I’ll fly
Love the way you tat me up
I’ll never change my mind
Write on me, write on me
Write on me, write on me
(Write on me)
Write on me (write on me)
Write on me…

It simply means that you are telling your lover to envelop you with their words, make their mark on you like you’re a blank canvas as Camila explained (Fifth Harmony).

Its valentines day and the above song just gets me so loving like,mushy, sentimental and all tender. Its soft, slow and so special for this sweet sweet thing called love. I close my eyes and imagine myself wearing a red tango flappy short dress in a dark lit room with my special one dancing, making rounds in the room matching the beats while I go down on that drum beat that is infectiously blushing synchronized with some acoustic guitar cords. Twirling, twisting, breathing each others exhale and inhale while holding each other close, giving salsa dance it’s true groove. (Retard romantic self me…Sigh)  It’s truly a special song and makes you appreciate true genuine love or crave for one if you have not it.

As we mark the day, let it not be about the society or how people make you feel sorry if you are single. Do not load yourself with pressure or the misery of not being in a relationship. Be happy and know that what matters most is the love you have for yourself and those close to you. Uphold and compliment yourself. List in your head why you are so great and intend to buy yourself something you love. For it’s in loving yourself that you will appreciate true genuine love when you find it.

If with a lover, take a moment and think of how they have been there for you. Send them a lovely note/text of how you really feel for them. Let it not be a competition between your friends or colleagues in the office. Of who got the biggest bouquet, most expensive chocolates or gift. It never is about the money. Just make it real. And let it signify your love for each other by the way he/she really is (In terms of preference likes and personality). Have a special moment and go a bit out in adding a smile on their faces.

With that said, I will leave you with St. Valentines prayer patron saint of lovers, love,happy marriages, young people and the affianced or engaged etc…Recite it like a poem to your love. Coz it’s rhimes are magnificent! At the same time you would have prayed for your special one… Amen.

Dear Lord, who art high in the Heavens,
Giver of Love and Passion,
And He who strings the heart’s cords,
Lead the Lovers this day, February ten plus four.
The day during the month of two,
When the date is the perfect number of God
Greater two souls and two hearts.
Some Loves are fleeting ,
But that which is built on you will never fail.
So guide the Lovers to know what is to be.
Your truths the Lovers’ mouths should speak,
For Your truth is that which is honest to the heart.
Only this, then, should pass over the red lips of the Lovers.
Your art, the Lovers simply a medium.
It is only with True Hearts that You can create a Masterpiece,
So let the Lovers remember that their Soul’s Desire
Is the one for which You light their Fire.
And let it be You who creates the Art of the Lovers;
The art of two into one.


Happy Valentines gang!

There is a rat (mouse) in my room

This rat chose to hibernate in our premises just before christmas. I saw it dash across the room and I immediately took measures. Bought poison and rat cakes and shoved them in every corner. How could it choose this festive period? When there are visitors all over! When you need to cook and make merry whilst  it busy dashes and makes fun of you because you can’t catch it. It’s too sharp, too sensitive even to the sound of a cockroach. So we played cat and mouse for a while, it sprinted everytime while I was unaware and in turn I squealed and jumped on the nearest bed or put my feet up on anything nearby. Afterwads I cursed and dared it to be a man and just come out without always surprising me. You know.

If it got all- it figured out! If it knew what it was doing and sure that it could out-do me.

It got more frustrating when I put all the traps up including indocid powder but nothing worked. It was small and dark with lots of fur. (Some scary shit.) Actually thinking of it, it’s not a rat but a mouse. Has a pointed snout and incredibly fast. I got so scared that whenever I went to sleep I prayed that it was not in my sheets. Or in my clothes. I made sure my handbag was always zipped closed cause who knows, next time am in a psv looking for fare and a mouse jumps out! (Lord have mercy)

The other day am busy minding my own muse in my bedroom then my sixth sense tells me something dark just dashed off past me. I stop whatever am doing and become still silent. All this time my feet up hanging in the air, am ready looking for something heavy to throw at it if it emerges back . I can’t find anything but a comb (dang! it always gets me un prepared) But it’s ok, my aim ain’t that bad. If it doesn’t die it will get a limp. Definitely.

So i waited. Seconds, one minute, two and then just like a bang, it emerged again and went behind the door. It’s super swift, so I wait again. Counting, my heart racing and my armipts starting to feel itchy because apparently am not sweaty enough. I get hold of my spectacles and put them on to make sure I have my focus and sharp focal point towards it. But Just as am ready, the most implausible thing happens. First it’s snout appears under the door, then its mouth and head then torso. Of course it senses a predator so it’s very cautious as well.

And in that moment, I become motionless. I can’t do it anymore… It’s simply so innocent and has this cutest face that for a moment I want to trick it into becoming my pet friend. I think this is how white people become friends with their pets. It melted my heart. I want to hold it and give it a back rub. I want it to be mine and we can continue torturing my sisters as well. And while we were lost in our reverie of fantasy (It took its time deciding if it wanted to be with me), it remembered it had to hide again. Withing a second it had darted and gone leaving me speachless, as silent  with my comb.

Let’s just say that I had this idiotic look- fear plus being all worked up and daring ready to leave a dent on it, with tenderness in my eyes for I suddenly fell in love together with me cursing it for walking out on me ( with a banging door behind). It never turned around to think about those special seconds!

Men I hate rats, I loathe mice! Simply revolting creatures.

Ps: I have no idea which corner it’s still hiding or how it’s living or what it eats but am not sure if it’s end will be nice. Bye lulu.(That name just came up. I baptize it)

Finish You Fiercely

I have muscle crams on the back of my thighs up my derriere because of the damn squats I did. Don’t get me wrong I love the mind blowing ravishing energy I get after, but today when I went to squat in our antique asian toilet I had a hard time maintaining that position. Its painful and am absolute cranky. I cannot walk fast nor do I want to sit for long. What solution do you have guys?

So lately I have been reading my mentors blog ‘The Jeannie Mai’ of the real daytime and I bumped into her self nourishing routine that she follows every morning. And I said I will try it. Its all about having some few minutes for yourself before starting any long busy robust kind of day.

She talks about how having so many things to do and taking care of our loved ones takes up all our time that we rarely get that time to reflect and re-set our goals, un-do what we are doing when we get stuck and taking another high road of direction to simply have a sense of accomplishment at the end of it all. Give or take we all make resolutions and targets and goals but by the quater year, we probably have all failed without anything substantial to show. This is the time to sit back and pull your disciplinary muscles!

Since we get home super tired and have so many errands before going to sleep she suggests you have your morning routine and your you time early in the morning. Let’s say your day starts at 6. am and you rush to make breakfast and head to work,  change that and start your day a little earlier. Make it 5.20, when those early birds just start chipping. Have some minutes to yourself and reflect on your life, your values and your goals. It’s necessary to find your inner peace and reflect on all you are grateful for. You can do some yoga while doing this or some excercise. (This is where I did my squats and lunges for too long- cringe). It’s necessary to remind yourself that before you be a Carol or Meg or Sandy, before you be a wife, a sister, a friend, a mother,you got to first do something that fills YoU.

Spice it up with puffing prayers, promises and gratitude for all He has given you. Every day, find your way to do YoU and give yourself a moment that separates you from the rest; to have that fuel to jumpstart you and at the end to finish it fierce! And it doesn’t have to be something hard, or be in the wee hours of the morning, 30 minutes early is enough.

This really got me going and inspite of my crampy legs, am willing to continue till am immune and familiar with this self- loving routine. Yes it will be hard and you will want to go back to your bed but it’a all worth it. Just try it and let this be your daily goal to just be you and relax.

Love Meg.

And thanks Jeannie Mai for inspiring me so much.





Eeew Eeew Eeeew

Had the most weird morning being forced to be sandwitched between a rider and another male passanger. Okay, to start off well, I dont understand why every December holiday there is mad annoying traffic along Jogoo road. It simply frustrating. Traffic starts in Hamza and woe unto you  if your driver does not use his head to use meandering roads such as Jericho and Makadara!

How does the holiday affect people going to work? It’s absurd because I don’t understand if guys from rural areas come in the wee hours of the morning. And how come they are all heading to town instead of their homes? How come that when schools are open there is never traffic?

So to stop the many upheavals, today I got jammed in traffic. Again. Almost as usual.  From the onset of my journey, the first matatu had issues. First, we got interchanged to another one which took it’s time before I arrived to alight. The stage to where I board another matatu is like 200 meters away so I have to walk all the way.  I literally ran this time and took another matatu that seemed chap chap. If I only had known…Once off, I thought the matatu would crumble down! Snail paced, making squeeking sounds on its engine made me think it would break down at any secong. Keep in mind It’s already 8.15 am, reporting time 8.30 am.  I was like ” Really! Is this the best that you can manage” The driver was even too scared to overtake while other matatus came roaring past us. I mean if several of them are overtaking that means there is no danger ahead. No blue boys! No kanjo! I tell you we stayed there, stuck. I started counting seconds, getting antsy and thinking of Patel’s reaction to my lateness. I looked around if I could spot a motorbike but nothing. Miguna Miguna and Pasaris topic was not even hitting any sense to me on classic 105. I feel agitated.  Its already 8.40 am. The time I should be arriving. Finally we break through. But there’s still one more matatu to board. I rush to find the nearest bodaboda. We negotiate the price and am on. Another male customer comes beckoning at us to join since he is heading the same place. I try to resist because am already occupying the seat. And we have no helmets on or reflectors. But he insists and begs. I shove to the middle and he presses himself on me.

Makere.jpg Continue reading Eeew Eeew Eeeew

The Absurdity Of Her Personality

She got the mind of a geezer. Weird and kind of bizzare from any normal girl or woman. May be it’s me stuck in this dumpcell preserved cocoon of my mine -that a lady should bahave in a certain manner or its just down right true. Dont get me wrong, am not perfect and I shouldn’t judge. Am just airing what seemed vexatious to me.Her mouth is filled with filth. And dirt. All about her stories are how she got it on last night. How she pictures every guy’s favorite position by their body anatomy and how she can make them bow. Peter came by the wee hours of the night and she was massacred. Mwenda likes it rough and Bitok likes ‘kifo cha mende’ more. (You know what I mean.) Her sexual orientation is that of a man.

So Jessy was a tall flared pear shaped girl. Skin soft as sheen and only her temple had dark spots that were always covered with heavy foundation. Her lips were wide and full. Her teeth milky. Teeth that could bring life to a dim lit room. Her eyes were small and deep socketed. Her voice horse as if her volume knob had frozen from taking too many shots of whisky. She had a pleasant face but her over wide square jaw left her short of pretty. Although she had unfathamable pride. Her friends wondered how she could always look in the mirror and not see the absurdity of her own appearance. But she never gave a chance to nay sayers. You either were her friend or she booted you out her squad tarnishing your name all over social media. So they all murmered when she was not on sight.

Jessy had plenty of guys. Old and young. Whites to Africans. Short and tall. All rich and who were sure to tip her at the end of their sexcapade. She was easy. She was like a harlot only that she did not wait them by the road side. Bars and clubs was where she met them mostly. She had what she called fuck mates. Just when it was dry spell. Or in a ravenous state. Jessy thrived in telling these tales to her peers. It was like some sort of pride she owned of how men worshipped her charms. Her friends marled at her in form of approval and as if she won a battle. All licking her wounds and being her subject. Wanting to follow her shadow. Whenever she started seeing Peter, Aden called demanding his need for her.  Jessy enjoyed the coitus. Almost got possesed by it. Who was she to deny what all these men desired. And although it was thrilling, it left her confused on who to settle for. Deep down she longed for re-assurance. Despite loving one Andrew guy from high school, she could not depict him in her life. He was not posh like the others. On her lonely nights, she found herself thinking of him. Of his sympathy rejoinder. How she admired his blackness-a colour so pure that there was a blue tinge to it. But she could not settle. And so her life became one craze of a lifestyle. One time this guy Odunga tortured her badly leaving her all blistered. After several visits to the doctor without help, she gave in to sitting on hot salty water which made her sprint off the bucket and scream in her bathroom. She cursed her obscene nature but she couldn’t just let it go.

Every passing male that brushes Jessy’s side is welcomed with grace. Her demeanour with men is almost static and magnetic. (May be it’s neediness.) She cannot say no to passers by, those who want to use her. Those who take advantage of her. Those who want to satisfy their cock’s sparklight. Just a romp that passes like a glide. She is always game. Ready for the grind. Its appalling Jessy never insists on protection. Simple cajoles fill the emotional void in her soul and she ends up giving in. And all the mushy revolting fluid goes in her insides.

Leaving her vulnerable to all kinds of viruses and diseases. Gonorrhoea, genital herpes, syphilis, HPV which is also called Human Papilloma Virus, HIV/AIDS and even ovarian and cervix cancer.

Its a shame very few people know of the asymptomatic HPV because its the deadliest as one doesn’t know they have it. The strains of HPV, which cause a person to develop warts, is not the same group of HPV strains that cause cancer. The strains of HPV known to cause genital warts are low-risk HPV 6 and 11, while the strains of HPV associated with cancer include high-risk HPV 16, 18, 31, 33, 45, 52 and 58. If HPV has contributed to the development of cancer, a person may become symptomatic of the cancer itself in the later stages of the disease. These cancers include cancer of the cervix, vulva, vagina, penis, anus and oropharynx.

Our main focus being the cervical cancer, steered this topic well because most cervical cancers are caused by a virus called human papillomavirus, or HPV. You can get HPV by having sexual contact with someone who has it. (without protection) Jessy is a fine example of someone who can get this type of cancer.

She might say that she can live with HIV/AIDS for 15/20 years but what of cancer? Isn’t she causing her uterus more danger by swallowing those P2 pills after sleeping with every partner. What of that raw contact with those many men? Disaster is sure looming in her life. In her health and in her ‘being’ mentally and socially. Give or take Jessy will succumb to either sooner or later.

Does she really value her life? Does she hold her esteem high? And does she have true pride for herself? Do her parents and loved ones matter -that she can jeopardize her presence with them? Definitely not. Its time we put more awareness to this killer disease than before. Cancer destroys, tortures, kills and torments even the bereaved. Sure they may ask God questions but we should ask ourselves this hard questions. Do we really care of our daily lifestyle?

I remember a lady who suffered of cervix cancer succumbing to death in less than a year. Being confined in a hospital bed led to the bill shooting sky rocket. Her family had no other option but to take her back home. At night no one could sleep because of her sobbing and wailing . She was in dreadful pain and everyone asked why God did not take her soon to end her suffering. She oozed out foul clear fluids because even normal blood was drained out of her system. Adult diapers were a special need. The room she stayed in was a torture to anyone who went to see her. It stung and left the atmosphere bleak and awfully stinking no matter the temperature or the winds direction. An intangible feeling of foreboding and doom inextricably hang inside. She withered infront of everyone’s eyes. Finally her body weakness yielded and her sobs became deep mournful whimpers living her eye balls gouged out. Her insipid frail frame could no longer take it. Her pain left everyone in tears. And after her death people mourned her suffering but gave thanks for finally resting.

It is upon us to reflect on what kind of deaths we want. At least if we can somehow control it, lets take charge.. Take charge of your sexuality. Get knowledgeable of the kinds of diseases out there and take precaution. Love  your life more than anything else in the world. And let God take care of you by taking care of yourself. I hope Jessy realizes this before it’s too late. Change your life today. Change someone’s life today. Especially our young girls in campuses and colleges. Our sisters and our friends. We know them. Please also remember to have screening and check ups at least once a year. Take such opportunities especially during October month. Where many of these tests are free. Get the HPV vaccine as it’s available in many hospitals and most importantly if  you cannot abstain or have monogamous sexual relations, then use PROtection.

For your mama’s sake to say the least. Deep down we know she will cry most if she loses you.

Blessings Meg.


Is it really Pica or Stone is simply tasty?

It chokes the lungs with delight. It inebriates deeply and leaves  you wanting enough. It intoxicates the air so heavenly that each inhale is not enough. Swift and light like a sweet whimper so deep. The moment you sense it everything comes to stop. Everything ceases. Time lays off. For a moment everything becomes the subject. It seduces and teases and tortures your pores. Hell, it leaves  you reeling for more the moment it hits your nostrils. There is nothing more divine like the smell of fresh rain drops on our dear earth. The first 10/20/30 drops before it becomes soaked. It’s simply beautiful and divine.

Apparently it has a name. That earthly scent  produced when rain falls on dry soil is called Petrichor.  During rain, the oil is released into the air along with another compound, geosmin, a metabolic by-product of certain actinobacteria which is emitted by wet soil producing the distinctive scent. It is important to note that when a raindrop lands on a porous surface, air from the pores forms small bubbles, which float to the surface and release aerosols. Such aerosols carry the scent, as well as bacteria and viruses from the soil -seemingly bad for us who love the smell. Those raindrops that move at a slower rate tend to produce more aerosols serving as an explanation for why the petrichor is more common after light rains.

So many of us ladies suffer from this addiction of stones or wet ground that it drives us to purchase them for consumption. At one time it got so bad for me that when I didn’t have one at hand, I would pour some water on our stone wall and suck it up. I would stay there inhaling and sucking till my mother found me and chased me away. She got me into it when she started taking clay when she was pregnant with my little sister.  And she could munch it like food. Scratching and crashing then eventually grinding.

This would be followed by a glass full of water that signified satisfaction. Then a belch.

Offlate I’ve started even noticing and loving the smell of dust alone. I absolutely endure it, perfectly knowing that I may be a victim of bad flu and tonsillitis. But it’s like nose candy. One puff and then it’s two puffs. Like curiosity that is not quenchable. The smell of a vehicle that is on a flooded road sends me gasping for more intake of the scent. I don’t understand if it’s the cooling of hot metals and tires or the petrol and water that sends me dispairing for more. Those few seconds are heaven. I literally look forward to coming across anyone sweeping their sand earthly pavement of their business.And  am absolutely sure I’m not alone. To my bewilderment, I came to a term PiCA which means an appetite for substances that are largely non-nutritive, such as ice, hair (My sister loves the smell of dirty hair), paper, chalk, metal, stones or earth, pencils, colgate and feces (AM YET TO HEAR THIS).


It speaks of underlying issues that one may have but I hugely disagree because it is simply like being addicted to any kind of drug or substance. And everything addictive is not bad. As long as you are still in control of it. You just have a particular craving at certain times. Thats all.

That said I do not want to cause wars with anyone. I just want to say that you are not alone. It’s a bit of a struggle but am with you in this. Though probably you will want to avoid them or be more careful of their source since some stones are dug near pit latrines, sewage areas or mixed with animal feces. So no matter how hard you scratch, the bacteria is still there. And it may cause harm to your health in general. Thats why I’ve taken a pre-caution to warn all the fans out there.

Be careful chikas and mamacitas.