Success is….

….When your friend shows out & shares your joy & excitement for winning.



When I came across this image of Key on a seat, losing his mind over Peele’s win, I was reminded of the side of friendship we rarely talk about. We seem to dwell on who was with us at the bottom of the pit and forget that some of our best moments are shared and more beautiful because someone else let loose on our behalf.

We should strive to be the Key in our friends lives.


I love the Oscars for the pageantry and sometimes shocking wins. Jordan Peele’s win was awesome for the simple fact the chatter leading to the awards was that he would go home empty-handed. His script and movie did not conform but the script he almost stopped writing 20 times earned him an Oscar and that is resilience .



I do not watch comedy because I don’t get it, I do not laugh on cue. But Key & Peele was my jam. Plus I loved Key as Obama’s anger translator. It is great to know that they are real friends and not just co-workers.



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God & i



I have already booked my apartment in heaven. We will not question why an apartment and not a mansion. Any who, since I am British by English language, I have booked my flat. It is a 3 storey flat with 6 units. My neighbours are Moses & Deborah on the ground floor, some random folk in the middle who we shall screen on the day and then I and Joshua at the top. Why is Joshua my neighbour? Well, he had a dream and very late in life it came to pass; which is technically how I feel. Not the ‘it came to pass’ but the section of ‘very late in life’.


Of late, I have been wondering how most of the people I see professing Christianity in real life or media have some super cool relationship with God. Everyone talking about his grace and mercy and quoting scripture in such lovey dovey tones. No one ever talks about doubt, the feeling that you may be getting played or the fear that on the day you choose faith ,something will happen to show you that you were right to doubt all along. That following Christ is an adventure you really might not enjoy sometimes. And, the bible as a whole is dramatic at the minimum. Heck, it is a relationship but there seems to be a conspiracy to ensure that those of us with questions do not ask them and if we even attempt to we are shut down with “He is able, just trust Him”. I say ‘us’ because I am making the assumption that there has to be more than me out here with questions. And yes, I have trust issues, I trust people to a point, why would it be different with God? I am the constant in all these relationships, No? And so, as per the norm, I play little Jesus and the Holy Ghost rolled in one sometimes. Which also means that God and I have moments of tension when I can feel him giving me the look of “Why do you try me?” And I am usually like “Well, you do not live here and never have so what would you know?”. Yes, I talk to God and sometimes I have an attitude. Real conversation, not “Dear Heavenly Father, ……….” But, “What is really going on, it seems you have forgotten me.” Very therapeutic and cathartic conversations and sometimes I do get answers and other times, He sits ever so still knowing fully well that makes me more agitated.


The general idea is to be still and to trust.


Our pastor gave us the target for the church for 2018, we need to win more souls for the kingdom. Each one; bring one. On my part, I am the one soul, one step at a time to stillness and trust. Not what the pastor wants but the reality is how do we bring people to church when those present are unsure of the gospel they should be sharing? Maybe, if we stopped and had real conversations about Christianity, we would realise my homie Jesus wants a real relationship and that those who have figured it out could use a dose of WWJD.


I had begun the habit of asking God for ‘small’ things, that way I would build my trust levels to the big stuff. Small stuff = chewing gum, packet of crips etc. Perhaps I graduated from that class and did not notice that I now more than ever needed to be still and to trust, which actually means be vulnerable to the Creator. Being still to acknowledge that He got it and is working .Trusting that when the storm does come, rock bottom is safe.



I read the book & it was awesome.

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Today I scrubbed the kitchen wall, which means I became mum’s BFF for a couple of hours. I woke up and just felt that I should scrub the cream walls off any food or smoke or whatever else is emitted from the kitchen.

No intention of writing, actually thought of just closing down this blog. I am losing or is it have lost something I thought I would always have. And that is words on a page. You never realise what is a luxury until it comes up missing. A friend gave me a book and it sits unopened. It is not a bad book, it would be a bad book if I read it but I just stopped reading when I begun avoiding bookshops. But I am writing because I said I would try this for 52 weeks in the year, I can at least try to keep that promise. And I will read the book.

Since my mind is jumbled up with a whole lot, this is just as random as it gets. I could write about Black Panther (the movie and not the political movement but is it not political?) or a jazz concert (funny how I don’t like jazz but I am quite available to attend concerts) or the fact that I am giving God the side-eye. But I will not because today I scrubbed the kitchen wall. Once, I heard that we should honour the season we are in. I want to put on my heels and be seated in an office somewhere and look all serious and change the world but I am currently in t-shirts and perfecting the art of vacuuming.

Mousey is not coming back here because this is not the forum for her. I wrote the first bit one evening when I was sad. The story just tumbled out in a dark room. By the time I got to the second instalment, all my english lessons came up. Stylistic devices, sentence construction, structure, protagonist vs antagonist etc etc and it became something else. Seems studying communication was actually founded in an English class and not the fact that I starred in the noisemaker list.

For a person who is mourning the loss of words, the only class I really want to sit in is a music class. Just to find out if I was wrong to trade words for music and dream of what could have been. And maybe, just maybe, after two decades I will once again here my voice.



This post has broken very many English rules but that was actually the essence of blah blah in traffic.

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Mousey 2



It was morning again and he was still tired. Tired of the cycle that awaited him and tired that he would be tired at the end of the day because he was tired. But he needed to leave his bed and get to work. He had heard Musa pass by with the milk cans as he went by to make the morning delivery at the milk centre, and he needed to be ready for the transplanting when Musa got back from the roadside.


He swung out of bed and the cold floor welcomed his feet with such force that he shuddered.  He kept forgetting to buy a bedside rug but that would mean something else he needed to get cleaned. And, he was also afraid that a rat would eat the rug. He had gotten a cat to solve the rat problem but turns out the cat was useless at killing rats. All it did was chase them around and around and then look at him like it was his job to kill the rat. He was either utterly incompetent at figuring out he was a cat or the rats had him under a spell. But today was not a day to deal with the rats or think about his failure in getting a real cat because he had lots of work to do.


He heard Musa before he saw him. The ever-smiling whistling old man, with a heart of gold. He had just made it to the patch of seedlings and was glad that they had all survived. He watched as Musa walked towards him, with his sure steps.

“Good Morning boss”

He hated it when he called him that and had told him so, but Musa was Musa and he said what he wanted to say.

“Good Morning Musa, slept well?”

“Yes, I did. Kamau the neighbour said you need to talk about the fence.”

“That can wait, let us sort this out first before the seedlings wilt. At least these are protected from those pesky rats. I sometimes fear they will figure a way to get into the greenhouse and wreak havoc.”


They loaded the seedlings into the trays and moved them to the beds on the other side of the greenhouse. Working in silence, they removed the seedlings from the containers, shook the roots gently and planted them into the fresh soil bed. Remove, shake and plant. Remove, shake and plant. Remove, shake and plant. He loved the rhythm and found it very comforting. He reached for the next seedling and at the corner of his eye he spotted a shadow. A rat! He dropped the seedling and ran out of the greenhouse but could not see anything. Had he been hallucinating?


Musa watched the boy run out and chuckled under his breath. He found it very entertaining how the boy kept himself busy chasing after rats. He had advised him to get a locally raised cat but the boy had insisted a trained cat by the vet in town would do. And now the farmer was doing his work while the cat sunned itself on the veranda.

“Did you see that?”

“No, boss. What did you see?”

“I thought I saw a rat pass by.”

“I did not see any rat.”


He watched Musa as he continued to remove, shake and plant. Calm and expressionless. He was sure he had more to say but would not, because Musa knew he had been right about the cat and was too good a man to rub it in.  He looked at the spot he had seen the shadow and noticing nothing he got back to work.


“That was close,” muttered Tix.

He had overslept, which meant he began his breakfast run after the farmer had woken up and started working. He had not expected to find him in the greenhouse and had scampered as fast as he could back into the cabbage patch once he discovered he had been spotted. He was hungry and needed to find food fast. In moments like these he wondered why he had to live so far from the chicken coop. Yes, it was closer to the house which meant that it was closer to that cat but the walk everyday was just as dangerous if not exhausting. Something needed to change. He just did not know what. But before he thought about a solution, he needed to eat, but cabbages made him sick so they were out of the question.






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Once upon a time ….


Mousey opened her eyes and listened to the morning movements. It was still early and the field was quiet save for the rustle of dry grass and the footsteps of ants. Another snooze would do but she had to get up and make it across to shed before the farmer showed up. Her breakfast would be waiting for her, spilt feed from yesterday’s dinner for the girls.


The girls were her friends, had saved her many times when she was spotted by the farmer. There was Bez, Cee, Dee and Apia, four at the moment since the farmer had only recently decided that he wanted to keep dairy cattle. This was great for Mousey since the cow shed was a shorter distance from her hole than the main house and therefore less of a security threat.


She quietly slid out of the hole, checked out to make sure that the nasty cat was not in sight and scampered across to the field as the morning sun warmed her coat. She lived for this ritual, the feel of the sun as blood pumped fast into her legs. Round the bend past the cabbage patch, cross the path and scurry along the green house housing the tomatoes, cross another path and a short climb up and she was at the back of the shed. She respected the farmer and that is why she did not eat the farm produce. Unfortunately, the farmer did not feel the same way, he was hell bent on finishing her and it was beginning to get to her. But what goes around comes around, she figured she had survived this long because she kept off his livelihood.


Scanning the surrounding, she quickly slid through the hole that was at the back and that lead to Dee’s stall. Dee, nice, round and top milk producer. The farmers fave but the feelings were not mutual. She did not enjoy having someone pull her udders every few hours and the fact that he stole her child. That last bit broke her heart and every chance she got she tried to give the guy a good kick in his face. He smartened up and stopped milking her himself. The job was left to Musa, the aging farm hand, who she felt sorry for as they were in the same boat; under the power of the farmer. So, when Musa showed up with his smile that cracked his face showing all the crevices life had made, she stood still and let him get his job done. He sang to her, songs from his youth, songs about lost love and yearning for home. Songs that soothed her aching soul, that made her dream of walking out in the field and nibbling on green grass rather than the dry hay they fed her. Being the best came at a price and she was tired of paying it. But it was either this or death, for now she chose servitude.


Mousey, entered the shed silently, as she did not want to startle Dee who after milking loved to take a nap and would get cross if interrupted. Her Highness Dee, Queen of Last Mile Farm had an attitude that suited the title. Of course, she was not aware of the title, since it’s the goats from the last season who bestowed this title and they were gone before the grapevine would get the news. How did Mousey find out? Well her neighbour Tix, who preferred chicken feed ,had chanced upon this info from Lo the cockerel, for 2 acres this farm had too much gossip and drama.

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Roses and chocolate … Sugar and spice and all things nice. Who does not like these two? Ok, there are those who don’t but since they are not the writer …..

I love love, the idea of love and every romcom in between. That said, my track record with love is patchy at best for various reasons, some me (I am old enough to own my stuff) and some them. But I want to date! I want to sit opposite someone and be all giddy and warm inside. I want to think through what to wear, why the particular heels could trip me up and have me tumbling down in embarrassment, why the lipstick MUST stay on etc etc. I want to hear the phone ring and reach for it and smile  because I like the caller and the caller likes me. I want “Good Morning” texts and “Good Nights”, long walks in the park as the sunsets. That last part …. neither Uhuru Park nor Nairobi National Park make the cut for obvious reasons. What I am saying is sometimes it seems like the clock struck midnight and I missed the pumpkin.


Where is Prince Charming? Wedding has been planned and plans have been changed sooo many times that I no longer know if the current plan is my plan or an idea from a movie.

Why am I single? Good question. I know someone who would say “It is because you want everything to make sense.” Hell , yes I do. Ok, my choleric, melanchonic self would like to know the end from the beginning just like the Holy Ghost. I love calling him the Holy Ghost, spirit is all calabashy Naija movies but ghost …Casper, the friendly ghost 🙂 . Ok, I am focused now.


I am single because there is a time I decided to date myself so that I could understand why I attracted the kind of man I did not want to attract. It does not help I liked that kind of guy. Dudes who were half in half out ;available today and then not available and then I got ghosted from a situationship and my ego took a hit. It was a situationship because it could not be a relationship, an alarm in my brain was ringing LOUD, and of course the situationship got tricky especially when the ex or current girlfriend wanted to start a RHOA kind of drama and I am more of The Crown peeps and then I discovered the set up I was walking into was Love and Hiphop Nairobi edition. The ghosting was a good lesson on my people pleasing tendencies and it also cemented the fact that tomato and basil soup does clear the head.


Fast forward, I decide to attempt dating again, and I discovered I love the idea of love but would like to watch others because I have a fear of rejection so I will leave you before you leave me which means dating me is having an underlying feeling that I am not fully vested in the deal. Quite a number of men picked this up and quietly exited stage left.


And having learnt that about me, I readied myself to take the big leap but then we have crickets … Throw thyself at someone, nothing, drape thyself on their bonnet ….natsing….Why me Lord?

So why am I single? There is no one to date.


And that is how I start thinking of an online platform. I have exhausted my pool and maybe just maybe, I should try an online platform. Because I love love and another Valentine’s day is passing by where I will not get any chocolates or roses and hanging out with my girlfriends is great but not the same.

I love love and want love just for little tiny me.



Snoring , a lullaby? Discuss. 20mks.

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Lessons from a broke wallet

The ability to not have an income earned or otherwise comes with ample time to look back and evaluate one’s life. A philosophical statement to say that when you are broke, you think of how not to be broke and then you realise why you should not be broke.

I have a red leather wallet, gifted to me by a friend on my birthday. Like my Kanye West ringtone, I do not  know how to function without the said wallet and that is why I am eternally gratefully that it is made from real leather and ofcourse, that it is red because looking for it is easy. This said wallet has had seasons, not that I have ever had Arab oil money, but there have been times when I was not really sure how much was in it = I was liquidish = I was assured that the money tap was running. And of course, there are moments when I know how much is in it. To the exact coin and the different shades of the notes and it is in these times that I guard it with my entire being and sometimes hide it even from myself 🙂

My wallet is a great economics professor, graphs and all provided in the course layout and these are some of the units it has taught.

CLASS 101: An empty wallet can inspire a change of direction.

If how you thought you would make money is not working ,  you wil leave that particular route and head in another direction.

Yes, you have a masters in rocket science but if no one wants to build a rocket or the production of rockets occurs once a year, you will realise that keeping rabbits will supplement the missing rocket money & along the way realise that your passion may not necessarily be the money maker.

CLASS 102: Don’t settle!

Yes, your passion may not be the money maker but that does not mean you should sell your soul to the devil. Doing something that kills your soul harms you in the long run and even with money pouring in you will remain unhappy and most likely spend that money to cover up the fact that you are unhappy.

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  1. CLASS 202: Define what you do and enjoy it.

It is very easy to jump on the band wagon of what is ‘IT’ when you can bankroll the process. No questions asked to whether you enjoy the drink, meal or experience or the people involved. Life is about trying out new things and money helps you do that. Not a bad theory but there is something new everyday and you can adopt  a lifestyle then have no cash in the bank and realise that you actually were not enjoying whatever it was you were indulging in.


You enjoy plain coffee, then stick with it. Machiatto and the ilk might be fancy words to roll out your toungue and be seen sipping but if you are not deep down in your heart enjoying it, what are you really doing it for? So drink the kahawa No.1, read the book, take the hike and play in the jumping castle! If they are not paying the bill, let them mind their own business (and you should actually let them).

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In the same vein, some people’s company is actually not enjoyable. To enjoy their company one has to self-medicate with something (food +/- alcohol) and that is really not what life is about. Just easing yourself out of their life will bring such peace and clarity.

CLASS 304: Money is the great diffentiator.

Look the world over and notice the rich-poor gap but there are people who will only talk to you depending on what is in your wallet and then there are those who will talk to you but respect goes out of the window as your wallet grows thinner.

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I call these people the “call me/tutafutane” crowd. They stop calling you and make it your task to call them and of course they will not take the call or will be busy till 400 days later and if you chance upon them in a social setting, they will heartily say hello, try to gauge the temperature in the wallet and if they cannot ascertain that you paid your way there, the magic word “TUTAFUTANE’ rolls out their tongue. To be honest, I stopped responding to that nonsense. All they receive is a blank stare. What are you that I need to hunt you down?


And ….Wisdom also dictates that I do not announce any increase in wealth lest the said people fish out my phone number (because they do not erase numbers just in case) and call you so that you can catch up.

CLASS 307: Window shopping can be a depressing exercise

You stroll into a shop to see what is new. You know you will buy nothing because you can afford nothing. Then you spot that one thing that makes your heart stop. In a design you love and you are sure it is a perfect fit but alas you place it back in the rack and walk on and keep thinking about it for days to come. And you finally learn to avoid finding out information that will be detrimental to your mental and emotional well being.

CLASS 401: I do not like being broke … and who does?

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The discipline of putting the thought to ‘paper’ is a task. Maybe I do not enjoy writing or maybe I need to brush up on writing or maybe …….

I love emojis 🙂

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