Andrea was a typical twenty one year old university student trying not to be swallowed by the sharks of life even before she had the chance to prove her worth to the world. She did not take education lightly. Born of parents who expected effect results and her being the only child received all the parental pressures. There was nothing about her that stood out… for those who did not know her well it was easy for them to lose her in the crowd.

University life is like a phase in life. All the craziness expected and presumptions that are weighed in everyone’s mind did not show the best quality in the twenty something year old guys that struggle so hard to finish and fight the competition in real life in order to make it. especially for Andrea. but so what? she was a crazy- fun girl who loved outings and night walks and wild fun that came with the freedom of being a university girl. She was not good at relationships  and couldn’t survive in one for long. She loved being free. She was a Qeep mistress, a social network princess and a fun goddess. Andrea loved success, the smell of it drove her mad with motivation. She wanted that BMW X6, that big compound, big family and circle  of friends that was loyal and most of all a man who would celebrate all her successes with her.  There was no much difference between her and Marlia, her tall, petite, dark skin devil child who like Andrea was not afraid to go out and see the world and be fun and social. Jade was a little bit different from the two though. She was a silent, opinionated but polite model. Marlia and Jade were always conscious of their dressing and loved cladding in heels to accentuate their body walks and well…(don’t say i told you, they are a cruel lot) it boost their self esteem a tad too much. They always aim to please.

Andrea loved shopping and eating. she did not have a model body. No, she was luscious and well kept. not fat, not thin. Get it mall was her it deal. every week was a get it week for her and Marlia. ‘ Marla that car!!…’ she exclaimed every time they went to shop at Get it. It was a BMW X6 series, maroon car with dark tinted windows , always packed at the same spot every time they were at the mall. They loved using the far left entrance just to see that beauty. Marla was already tired of all her ranting every time and would ask her to hush .

On this particular day as the three friends approach the far left entrance, Andrea looked at the car and said ‘this is why I am in school…’ Marla sighed and someone spoke out ‘you should encourage your friend instead of lashing at her all the time. I’m Ronald.’ ‘Please tell them’ Andrea replied laughing at the pissed friends whose expressions demonstrated hostility. weeks passed and Ronald would greet the everyday but Marlia and Jade never really warmed up to him. No one complained though.

On the eve of their semester end it was tradition for the three to celebrate then prepare for examinations. This time they decided to eat at a favorite coffee shop. Ronald however crashed their eat out and took them out to a different joint. they had fun. ‘I have fun with ladies i don’t know…. what Im trying to say is i would really like to know you,’ he said. Oh i am Dina(Laila professed), Lindah and Velarie. they lied about everything. He will never find out they said…


A blessing in the face of tragedy

I am  bored, a whole day indoors, no one to talk to and no cat to play with. I am not interested in making friends in our new neighborhood. Dad says its good for my social life. But oh well. I already lack one. My father is a merchant who owns a fleet of ships at the sea. I do  collectibles at my own free time, but then again its hard to have ‘me times’ these days. Ever since ‘Lady Cruel-la’ appeared, from Lord knows where, life sucked. I am the second born of three, only girl in a family infested with boys (not that it is a bad thing, I love my two brothers). Raised on the road with a ever busy father, I turned out just fine. A silent, rebellious girl, who looked like a boy, with short hair that had no specific colour (black with specs of a dirty brown – gold rusty finish), full round cheek bones that penetrate from the skin, ‘a clear indication that you do not eat well’… some say. We live with our grandmother, my father’s mother. She is amiable and easy going, quick to love and of ripe age. I do not know her real age because we do not discuss it. My brothers, Josh and Komu, are my cartoons, full of energy and hard to contain in one place. Josh is the eldest with Komu right behind me ( he chases after me fast, or so father says everyday. This is because he is getting taller than me as the years go by proving father’s point of my wanting diet).  The two are busy helping workers at the barn which I cannot tell, they love keeping secrets from me but I love them still.

There is a loud commotion at the barn so I drag my body off the bed to peep through the wooden window. Father is busy trying to talk to a tall, dark, giant of a man in hushed voices. I cannot quite make out their words. My father is a 5’9 stalwart man with broad shoulders and a ponytail( he does not shave his hair. Says mother liked it that way). He has a deep, rough, throaty but very strong voice which can be quite loud if he wants to be heard. I ran down the stairs ignoring the creaking sounds emanating from the wooden steps as  if they are threatening to let go and break from the amount of ‘bad treatment’ they have suffered since time immemorial and the tragic unrest from my ungrateful thumping. They give way and my foot digs deep into the hole beneath the steps. A sharp sound full of pain and surprise leave my mouth and I scoot to check if my skin has broken. Blood slowly drips from my wound but I quickly wipe it off  and despite the pain, try to speed out to eaves drop my fathers’ conversation.

‘It is too risky. No ship is in business. we have run out.’ The stranger shrugs and announces that the business is closed. People start shouting and throwing down their tools cursing softly at the economy. I am confused. ‘ What is going on papa?’ … no reply. I get more confused. People are starting to leave the compound but my father stops them reassuring them and urging them back to the barn.  What happens inside there is a mystery, only my brothers are allowed in… me? well father says the business is for boys.

Night approaches and it is upon me to prepare supper. All the workers are still around warming themselves around small fires they  have created in the compound, just silent probably thinking of the what misfortune the devil has struck them with. Lady Cruel-la is seated some distance from where I am cooking, trying to warm herself. I dislike her. She sneers a lot and makes negative sentiments about the results of my work but makes no attempt to work. That makes her lazy. I look at her and she gives me a disapproving glare. I sigh and look down, when will she leave?.

Grandma is seated next to me warming herself and suddenly  starts to sing worried man blues by Woody Guthrie. She has taken everyone by surprise. She continues to sing  and everyone starts to slowly gather around us and chip in one by one singing following her pace. In no time the place is filled with the sound of everyone’s voice singing ‘the worried man blues’. I smile. Father comes towards us with followed by my cartoons behind him playing catch using a hardly round, dirty looking cloth that  seems to be filled with sand? I am not sure. I leave the pot on the fire and run to the house to take bowls to serve the soup. I grab a large wooden basin like thing full of bread and hurry back the outside gathering.

The soup is more than enough  but the bread is not, so grandma cuts them into smaller pieces hoping they will be enough for everyone. One worker misses a piece of bread. I feel bad. It should have been enough. One piece for each of us. I look around thinking thinking of this misfortune and extend my hand to him. ‘You can have mine,’ I say smiling. I would not eat bread, just drink soup. I knew i would still be hungry whilst going to bed and I felt tears start to form. It had been a hard season. There was no food in the market and the little that was sold was so expensive not everyone could afford. My father was a good man. He tried to make sure the workers got something small  to eat before they called it a day because they would probably sleep hungry. We were not rich but we managed and father made good every cent he made from his shipping business but now their was no market for his business. The economy is a devil they said. Tomorrow maybe a good day they hopped, but it was always the same, ‘no business person is shipping their merchandise frank!’ they lamented. His business was going off the rails so he decided to try selling timber and even make beds, tables and seats but it had no guarantee of success. I notice Lady Cruel-la trying to hide a  second piece of bread between two piles of wood and quickly snatch it and sneer at her. ‘Thank you!’ I retort and quickly down it with my soup and stomp off the gathering. ‘A fiery one that one!’ I hear someone exclaim.



Fay Fictitious

Lord, here is a sinner who has come with a petition,

I have fallen all too often was thinking it was my damnation,

I got all these scars and bruises requiring medical attention,

I have this pain in my chest in need of a cough suspension.

But ain’t it all in vain if I lack your love and affection??

I know on your side Lord there is good reception,

Cause am on my knees begging for your divine intervention,

You died on that cross but I took for granted my salvation,

I acted like a fool and now lost my redemption,

I went out of my way in search of compassion,

I knew there was you but you was out of my options,

I know now I was wrong and fallen short of your expectations, don’t blame the deceiver it was my fault to succumb to temptations,

I saw it…

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how to manage anger and frustration

I hope that you find this helpful in your endeavor to manage your anger. let’s face it, we all get angry when we feel like someone has wronged us. It may be because of a reason that we do not understand and in the moment when the feeling of frustration or being looked down upon, or not being understood kicks in, it multiplies and rises above all reason and all one thinks of is how they have been wronged. Here are some of the things you may do to cool down or manage your frustration and anger that might actually work.

  1. Taking long walks.when you get angry it is better to avoid conversing with the person you are mad at. Do not talk to them or try to solve the issue at that time as it will lead to more anger and frustration, the possibility of understanding is minimal and harsh words will be thrown around and people will get hurt.  Keep your thoughts intact and unsaid and take a very long walk. Everybody has their own taste in music. I love soft and soothing music. Indie rock for example and bands like Daughtry and 3 doors Down . Take your head phones with you and listen to music as you walk. It gives a soothing effect. It also gives you time to think about what happened, how it happened and your way forward.
  2. Do something that you love doing. Especially that which gives you patience or rather tests your level of patience and determination. It may end up reducing your anger to a minimum.
  3. Try explaining the situation to someone you look up to and trust and get an opinion. Maybe there is something that you understood, in a different way from the way your friend or the person you are mad at wanted you to understand.
  4. Sleep. When I am irritated or angry I usually take a nap. a short one. When i wake up the anger or frustration is usually gone.
  5. Cry. I know this may sound absurd but crying helps a lot. OK, most of the time that I am usually extra mad, or rather too mad to a point that i am shaking, I usually cry. It is like the tears just wash away the anger and frustration and a feeling of peace settles in and I am no longer mad.

I hope that you may find this useful. It is not scientifically proven but it is experienced either by me or it is feedback that I have received from someone I have asked or opinion that I receive from my friends. Feel free to try any of these methods out and any input to this topic would be greatly appreciated.

The Theory of a drop of water 

Its been two weeks since i attended the African Leadership Exchange and Development seminar in Nairobi. It was enlightening. From all the seesions we had… I was touched by the session about the drop of water in a cup. This session inspired me so much because it was like a link to the culture that of ‘Ubuntu’  that was inspired upon us delegates by Daudi Valia( the chairman to the conference) . I am because we are. We can all change the world together . Each drop of water poured into a glass can fill that glass of just takes a drop , another drop and another drop of water . For us all to fulfill peace and humankinds potential we need to be these drops of water. Together , it will be easier for us to change the world we need to unite, in our jobs, at home, socially and implement  whichever dreams we have that seeks to have a better world just not for us but for the generation that is coming up behind us . 

Tick tock…

It was the darkest hour of the night, Marriane made her last round of her house ensuring all rooms were locked and retired to her bedroom. It had been seven o’clock at the crack of dawn when Philian, her best friend, had offered her a shoulder to cry on. Marraine was an orphan and the closest person she had to family was her brother, Nathan Osindi. Their relatives and taken them in when their parents died and in the process exploited their parents wealth. Little life, most love. Thats what they called it.
Three years down the line and Marriane just wanted to die. Her brother passed away and she had noone else to “most love” with. Philian cried with her too. It was a sad life story for a lonely girl. But Philian was there! She tried to let him go to no avail so she wished it… Tick tock.

Abraham Fundi hated his carrer. Too much work, inadequate sleep and a pathetic pay check. He just wanted what everybody else wanted, a fair payslip for the work done. But we do not always get what we want. Thirty minutes of sleep was all he got that night. Incessant ringing from his mobile phone was annoying, could this not stop! He draggged himself off the bed and went to attend his duties. His life plan was not working very well.

The girls body was untouched, unscathed and the smile plasterred on her face meant she may have had a peaceful death. The corpse was laid on the bed tucked in the blankets and the dreamy eyes meant she had been woken from sleep. He sighed, what a death. ‘Did she wish it? Whatever happened to her was something she was cognizant of,’ he thought.

Back in Westlands a man relaxed in his resting room, staring at the fireplace and smiled. He put down his wine glass and headed off to sleep, it had been a good day. So he sang
“tick tock it is the darkest hour of the night,
The angel may be passing by,
For where he goes death suffice,
Tick tock goes the clock…”