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Not That I’m an Afro-Haired, African Literature Reading Kinda Babe

I have had my nose stuck in a book all week, ever since getting to the conference. Spell bound. Every free moment relieved of its freedom by further creasing the spine of the book. Current read, Kintu. I inhale it day after day. Sometimes I worry that perhaps I am not socializing enough. Networking. There’s pretty impressive individuals in attendance at the conference.

people overestimate what they can do in one year and underestimate what they can do in ten

I often find myself dragged, more like enticed at the prospect of an open bar, to several tech-business-y events every so often. At tech-business-y events, to be honest, you are more likely to find more employers of techies than techies themselves.

Mother and Son

9 years old and he has just recently started insisting on getting himself prepared for the school day. It is allowed. Growth is natural, it cannot be stunted. He is much slower on his own but won’t take kindly to any assistance. “I’m not a baby anymore,” he will say to her. She used to sit by him as he went about his morning routine, in the hope that dictating instructions would help him pick up the pace, but even that he objected to. “I can do it on my own mum.” Now she makes sure he is up, then heads downstairs to wait for him, preparing breakfast. Today she’s been anxiously looking outside at the sky, wondering if the weather really was dreadful or if the darkness of dawn was simply giving everything a tint of dreary.

Taking Stock – The Stories Never Really End

Here’s a little ‘Taking Stock’ style post, I’ve never done one. There has never been a need to. Now the need has a risen. I’d like to update you guys on a few things concerning a couple of previous posts, but none of the updates is substantial enough to stand on its own as a post so here we are.

I shall back-track in chronological order.

Childlike Humanity

I normally walk to work. How blessed am I to be able to do this? Walk as I watch Nairobians’ productivity melt away like the fuel in the engines of their stationary cars in traffic, all this while I practise my Spanish. Blessings upon blessings upon blessings these are! The Kileleshwa-Kilimani environs are residential so I walk past very many houses, apartment blocks, little gated communities, the likes, most of which have watchmen.

‘Why Are You So Loud?’ Sentiments of a Silent Soul

Do loud people know that they are loud? I feel as though this is something I have previously thought and written about. I don’t think it had a whole post dedicated to itself though. So here goes… Do loud people realize how loud they are? Do people occasionally, casually, point out to them, as they so often do with quiet people, how loud they are?