Chickpea/Gram flour Chapatis

We all look and crave for new delicacies because food can get very boring if often repeated. So I came up with something delicious easy and so fun to make. Why? Because you get to incorporate all your favorite fillings as you please. Without farther ado, let’s jump in!

So all you will need are the following ingredients;

1 cup gram flour,

1/2 tsp garam masala,

1/2 tsp turmeric powder,

1/2tsp black pepper,

1/2tsp salt,

Half green bell pepper,

1 shredded carrot,

Cilantro,

1 garlic clove,

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl. Add water and keep whisking to form a paste. Once it’s all smooth without chunks, add your additives like the bell pepper, garlic, cilantro, and carrots.

You can even go an extra mile and fill small pieces of chicken or ham or cooked minced meat. All I wanted to myself for this treat was green greeny no meat chapatis. (Vegan for some minutes lol.)

After a good mix, heat your nonstick pan and brush over some oil. Pour some paste in and flatten it a bit. Add some more oil all around and let it cook each side 3-5 minutes. Finish all your mini chapatis and serve hot.

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This can be taken as a snack or tea accompaniment, as well as dinner with some soup or stew.

All gluten-free, all eggless for those with allergies or if you simply want a break from the wheat flour.

Enjoy!

XOX.

 

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Health Is Gold. Full stop!

I always try to pray for the sick as often as I can remember despite the many times I slack off and just mention it lightly. You know those times you find yourself too tired or too occupied to really pray from the core for the suffering and the sick until reality hits you when you visit a hospital… Yeah. It did hit me. And this experience made me focus more on them than I had ever been. So I had to visit a patient at KNH and the severity of sicknesses and diseases and casualties slapped me hard with what I saw.  The building is huge and clean from the look of it. Though the reception is a bit unnerving… The gatekeepers look frustrated to answer any question regarding direction or parking. At the parking lot, cars are literally on the road. Parked to the brim! But you find your way in.

At once you see the grave faces of people coming out and some going in, others in groups vehemently praying, children so young innocently asking for their mamas, patients being wheeled in and your heart shadders. A cold cement of bleakness grasps you and your mind runs with all manner of thoughts. Something of intangible anticipation, doom, and dread hangs in the air.

So we walk into the wards and people are crowded waiting for the lifts. We choose to use the stairs instead and up we go to the sixth floor where casualties are treated. By the third floor, I’m panting, my knees almost giving away. The stairs are packed and the humid is unbearable. We finally land and I have to take a minute to catch my breath. After we forge in.

We look for our patient and get a glimpse of him lying on his back, still, his eyes closed and two other solemn visitors standing beside him. My stomach makes a churn tightening as I hold my breath praying for the best. We approach and ask almost whispering how he is fairing. This sweet little 14-year-old boy Kariuki was involved in an accident with a lorry. Speeding, it rolled over and caught him off guard. Breaking his spine from the neck downwards. He is bandaged up all through his body and covered to the neck by a hard collar. It’s a miracle he survived but I’m not sure of his future.

Most of the casualties are bandaged with heavy casts. Broken limbs, slings on fractured arms,  tied up, some moving around and others just resting. Some in critical conditions in patches over their eyes and head. The ward is crowded. There is hardly enough space to pass through to your patient. It is hot. Leftover food which was basically this calloused Ugali served with beans or dengu was still glaring at 5 pm. Not yet collected. Some of the patients had no visitors and they look bored and frustrated. You could tell they would rather be anywhere else but the hospital.

Out of the damage, Kariuki could not take any kind of foods. Only drips. And making it worse the nurses are overwhelmed due to being outnumbered by the multiple patients coming in due to the ongoing strike. You can hardly spot one to attend to you. And those around look distressed, tired and in a foul mood. Kariuki’s one drip should last many hours before being given another.  His lips are chirped and one moment a rush of sweat breaks his forehead, one moment he has goosebumps. He tries to open his eyes but you can tell he is using most of his energy doing so. He can’t fill any of his limbs. All the four limbs. He complains of hunger in his whispers. The fruits, food, and juices he is brought from day one are strictly prohibited as the doctor verifies to us that he has some internal bleeding and is not allowed to eat. That is the fourth day without food. He is irate with everyone for not giving him food.  I am told that at one of the visits her mother tried to sneak some juice to his lips and was caught in the act. She was apprehended and forced out. She left sobbing. My heart crumbled up for her.

There is nothing as worse as dying of hunger while seeing others being served. No matter how awful the ugali and dengu looks, your hunger multiplies a dozen times.  We try to entertain him and give him some of the latest news. Once in a while, he tries to smile. And then his brain registers again that he is starving. He closes his eyes. Bitter and angry at the world he threatens to eat besides the doctor’s orders. My heart breaks. My mood is downcast. He is just a boy, so innocent with his whole life ahead. Yet fate has already shoved him to disability. I feel chills looking at him helpless. I cannot contemplate how his mother is feeling. How much she has cried for her little boy.

This jolts me to reality when I start worrying of the small staff that makes me feel crazy. Those small issues about life not going as you wanted, that flu, that traffic, being caught unaware with rains; those are merely non-issues. That crap doesn’t matter. What matters is life and health and possibilities. There is someone crying for a glimpse of hope. Someone hanging on a thin thread of life and death.  Someone looking for answers. Someone asking why me, why their husband, why their mother or simply why an innocent child. If they could have done this or that to avoid a disaster or a terminal illness… It’s an endless circus of questions and we don’t realize how much we are blessed or should be grateful, for those little things we term them as normal. That shelter, that meal, that peaceful night and even a peaceful country.

As much as I wanted to help in any way possible there was nothing much I could do. The least was just to pray soulfully and heartily to God for his mercy on this young one. For grace and strength upon him. That his fate was not going to destroy him but bloom him to his magnificent future. For people rise from the very basement of sewers. For you are much stronger than what stands in your way. Though so young I pray he doesn’t give up. And that he holds on. And that his future becomes brighter even though he cannot see it now.

That visit altered my casual way of taking things lightly. Be grateful every day for ending the day well. Do not take it lightly. Do not think it’s normal or it’s your right. You are not special than the other. And so don’t take it for granted. Be grateful. Cherish it by living right as well. And before going to bed, remember to thank the Almighty. But most importantly remember all the sick, all the oppressed. Because health is gold.

 

 

Body Insecurities & Critics

Pretty much most of my life I have been this timid slender bony girl. My reservedness- which I came to understand much later (97% introvert) made other students keep off and so I had few friends. At the time I did not understand myself too. I did not like the way I was, why I didn’t I have many friends and so forth. I struggled with acceptability. Every friend always asked why I was too thin and slender. Them wrapping their hands on my wrist and even some grabbing for some ‘Nyama’ on my waist. Telling me to eat more. Of course, I did not have answers and I would shy away from the topic and bring something else up. I didn’t have the temerity to speak up and stand tall.

This went on and heightened in my teen years. Struggling to fit in. To create ghost boyfriends when others were discussing their boyfriends at prep times and getting their letters well calligraphed. Wishing and drowning in my misery of esteem. You see I didn’t have a defining African arse… Nor breasts. At the time I did not even know I was beautiful. I did not realize I had positives. Or I was a positive on that note! A force of its own. That I had lips like fine pillows or diamond eyes and skin as light – a – fur coat. If I could just shift my mind a bit. If I could embrace my smile and just how beautiful I was…

But I did not see it. I did not have the features to inspire desire or lust or attention for that matter. Of course, with time my imagination and thoughts expanded further. And slowly I started letting go so much of what people said. I got tired of mulling over what I did not have. Fate had already decided and shoved me with this model figure. It had married me from the very beginning. That seemed beyond argument. Who was I to reverse it? No matter how much I ate it made no significant change on my body. Squats never did much. And I realized, health was more important. And I didn’t need to change to what the world was demanding from me. The right people would accept me. And the right man wouldn’t let physicality determine how a relationship would be based on how I was. Because it’s deeper than that. It’s more than being ‘fine.’

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It isn’t as easy as said though. The pressure of  ‘your collar bone is too deep’ never end and we all have our bad days when we feel inadequate. But it’s best not to let it control your happiness. We have too little time on this earth to let people define your life. Embracing your uniqueness, your abilities, the fun you like to do, your every part of your body and most importantly your faith is whats sets the tone of your happiness.

Believing in yourself even when the world gives you a dozen reasons not to.

Confidence is not saying I hope they like me. Confidence is saying – I’ll be okay if they don’t like me.

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And most importantly, it’s knowing God created you perfectly wonderful. That he is with you every step of the way. When you fall or sway or feel insecure. Stop Comparing yourself to others. It’s a thief of your joy. Kill that voice whispering to you that you ain’t enough. God is so great to choose and mold you the way He saw best fit. And only His opinion matters.

 

Realizing and understanding this made me write a letter to my daughter. My future daughter.-Enjoy-

“Dear daughter, I write to you because I’ve loved you even before you were conceived. As you grow up baby, most probably you will take it from me. My genes. Daughter, you will be petite. And most likely you will have some a level bum. You know.. All I want you to know is that the world’s goals keep changing. From fake booties to enlarged boobs to full lips. Next, I’m sure it will be the jaw line. You can never keep up my Pearla. You have to be you. Ignore the rules and be different. Be the Pearl; My Pearl; that God made you to be. Imperfectly perfect. So create your own rules instead. And refuse to be judged by your body. Loving mum; Megaga.”

So in this life be you, the authentic you. Feel you. And dance yourself out. Whether big, small, dark, short or tall, big nosed or foreheaded… name it all.

The world will adjust.

#Live love laugh.

 

 

 

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 in delivery rooms or on videos you will think they are being subjected to torture because they are so small to overwhelm them with all these 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 tightly 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 drunken 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 nonstop 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 in 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 screaming lips and goofy pouts, chokers and weird hairdos.

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 for 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 by 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 you 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 forward 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 include 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 a lot 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 slams 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 steep 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 the 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 torturer’s long journey 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 funny 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 normally. – 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 often. 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.

 

A TRUE GOD & GOLDEN HEARTS!

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 🙂

 

Adios.

 

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.

Amen.

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.