Blog

On Fear

Collins, this one is for you. 😉

I went swimming recently. On Sunday. Remember my triathlon athlete dreams? Still in the works, I’ve been running and swimming is the latest addition to the repertoire. Anyway, I went swimming. There’s this thing I like to do in the water, just float on my back, navigating from end to end of the pool, as a sorta break between reps. Heh heh, ati reps, who am I kidding, I could barely do a lap without needing a breather.

Sundays

All week, Pam had looked forward to Sunday. To be honest, it had been months. Months since her exam results had come out and she had had to pretend to not see the disappointment on her father’s face every time he looked at her, before he could catch himself and hide it. She had not attained the minimum grade to go to the university. Not even a technical institution for a vocational course. Nothing. All those years of schooling, the fees her father had paid through the nose term after term. Every time she was sent home for unpaid fees, he sacrificed a little more each day to put away enough to send her back. This education thing, they said it was the key to a brighter future. He believed them. They said one should educate girls as well as boys. So he gave a deaf ear to all marriage proposals for his daughters and took them all to school.

Take A Break, Don’t Quit

I’m on this journey…life. Yeah, let’s call it that. I am on the journey of life. I’m at this place on this journey where I reckon I’m finally learning a lot of things. Finally, not because I’ve been hard headed and refusing to learn or anything like that but because some things come with time and it has been quite some time since I started this adult-ing thing. ‘Real life.’ A lot of my favourite words (quotes) are starting to make sense, starting to take on new meaning. I am learning to say what I mean and mean what I say. I am learning patience. Patience. Patience. Patience. Did I mention patience?

Haba na Haba Hujaza Kebabs…(My auto-correct is an idiot)

Why is my auto-correct an idiot? Well, like they say, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid. Does this not definitively determine that my auto-correct is an idiot? Its one job, ONE JOB, is to make the people I am texting think I never err on grammar or spelling. More often than not, it introduces errors and makes me sound like an idiot. Let us not even start on the, perhaps the Kiswahili threw it off argument. I refuse. It is an artificial intelligence. It should pick up Kiswahili as well as it does English. I hope you are reading this auto-correct, I am disappointed.

Sometimes Life Happens(Even at 5 am)

 

I like early mornings because of the silence. People are asleep, the surroundings are still, my brain is just waking up so there are yet to be a million thoughts cascading over each other in there. The neighbours’ chicken will sometimes be clucking in the morning. Yes, I get it, this is what chicken do, but that does not make it any less annoying. Occasionally, the neighbours’ dog will be barking about one thing or another, probably chasing its tail round and round. We have a dog too, but it is generally silent, docile. The rowdy one, my little Benjamin Button, was exiled to ushago. A story for another day, but yes, our dog is silent. This morning however, I could hear a disturbance from somewhere outside. Voices, sounds that may or may not have been there. You know how sometimes the mind plays tricks on you, like when you could swear you just heard someone say your name but then no one did and you start to low key question your sanity. I ignored the sounds but they persisted so I decided to venture onto the balcony, be nosy, snoop.

Beginnings and Endings

“Raisa!” called out her mother and not for the first time.

“What’s taking you so long?” she added although she already knew. In the living room was a guest, a guest that any 18 year old girl would dread… a suitor. Her mother hoped this would be the one for her. Rashad was kind and respectful. Hopefully, this was not just a front.

The Pseudo-Biological Clock

I am 22 years old. Naturally this is the average age of my closest friends, the people I have grown up and gone to school with. The early twenties. I went to a girls school for most of my life and even after school I have found that among my close circle of friends, there are more girls than boys.

Let’s talk about the biological clock now. Is it something that women actually feel? Or is it a social construct that tells a woman it is about time she took up her role as wife and possibly mother because looking around all her peers seem to be doing it? Or is it a manifestation of the advanced neurological development characteristic of girls? Or is the fact that women have so much pressure put upon them to be in control of everything and take care of everyone while the men kinda just need to show up?