A Butterfly’s Sanctuary

Is it just me ama does this not sound like poetry?

That One Blog🌷

Micasa Sucasa

Not my waist doing the most as I’m vibing to Victoria kimani’s ‘wonka’ in the kitchen, when the rest of my family is awaiting me to serve supper. I’m not burning any onions and I’m not overcooking anything, it’s just the perfect environment to cook something nice.

Yes, I cook!!😌

All this time this song’s been on repeat and all I can say is *

kimanion the beat*👌. I just discovered this song last month when a friend recommended it on a QandA I posted. Did you ever listen to as song for the first time and knew it would be one of your best?Good way to acquire new music if you ask me.

Nice music taste by the way.😚

My playlist is the only place I could take an entire evening trying to put in order. This type of effort, I would never willingly put…

View original post 352 more words

Advertisement

Cases of exes

My name is Ashley. I am in my mid-30s. Childfree by choice. Single and mingling. I enjoy dating. I do not love long-term relationships. At this point, I am probably okay with dying alone.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Alone by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find m
y soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

 It’s 9.39 pm. Martin just called me. This is the third time he has called this week. I liked it the first time, the call- that is. It made me feel flattered.

The second time, I hated it and so I blocked him. But because I am getting old and somehow I do not know how to use my phone, he called and I picked yet I had blocked him. How that happened I am yet to find out. I guess he has an app that makes his phone number block-proof. These IT guys. Not so good after all.

Martin is one of my exes.  One of the guys I dated in my 20s.

I have had my fair share of men. I can tell endless tales about my experiences with men.

There was the rapper. The two years we dated were pure bliss. I was a completely different person. I was gangsta. I was naïve but I loved life. I loved being with him. But he was broke. His music career eventually kicked off well so the money issues are no longer a problem. I left him because I thought I was too boujee to date a ‘broke’ man. Thinking of it now, that was dumb but it made total sense to 21-year-old Ashley. That’s all that matters. “Given our (and especially his) change of money situation, the relationship will work.” I wish on those lonely Friday nights. We can now go to all the places we dreamt of going. Smoke weed by the beach as we watch the sunset while dreaming of how one day we will go to Vegas. Invite a stranger; a girl to be precise and preferably one with blond hair aka a blondie then take her home. What we will do at home is up to you and your imagination. Speaking of imagination, I wish his runs even wilder. How I wish he is still as stupidly foolish as he was. I hope he still looks at life from an artistic angle. The things we would do with our kidogo money…. I wish that was Mr. rapper’s call. His call would excite me but I am 90% he will never call me. We ended on bad terms. We didn’t have closure but it’s okay.

Then came the daddies. You see, there is an age apo 24 when you start having that adult glow. I do not know what causes it but I think mine was because I had started making some good money. And so I was glowing. See, when you look a certain way you attract certain kinds of men. The better you look, the richer your suitors are. The richer they are the older they are. The older they are the heavier their baggage and so daddy’s calls would probably be ignored but efficiently kept for emergency. You never know when you need quick cash. There was a time I felt guilty. You know the thought of “Aki naeza kuwa nafanya bibi ya wenyewe ashinde akililia mungu baba usiku na mchana ati bwana yake anaibiwa” but right now, I do not feel guilty about them. As you grow older you make peace with many things. Among them that life is unfair but it deals us the same blows. As long as you are human with human abilities, you can do nothing about so many things and especially those in the past.

The good boys. These were mostly my campo tuboyfriends. They are very dangerous and will ruin your life because you met them when you were naïve enough to fall for the lies. So you fell for the lies. For my case, my good guy exes like Martin are all still accessible. When the relationships ended we got closure. So we are in good terms. However, we do not ati call each other every evening to gossip or flirt or do whatever exes do. Somehow, or maybe it is just for me, the attraction is still there but we know we are now very different people from the naive babies were back in the days.

You see these good boys, they do not call often but when they do, they changanya you bad. When Martin called, I guessed he was probably bored, and now that most people were out of Nairobi for the holidays, I was the only option. Either way, I still agreed to meet him. Apart from the fact that he is shy everywhere including where men are encouraged to be beasts, he is a cool guy. His pockets run deep and he is good-looking.  So we met at the craft beer garden in Karen. He came alone and we talked and talked. He’s still not a good communicator and so at some point, I was bored. We later went to Movenpick to do what adults do at night in hotel rooms.

Although on very few occasions, the good guy haves the last laugh.

My creative contribution to the universe

Hello Friend,

The year is coming to an end. I am excited about the new year. Yeah, I am one of those who get excited about beginnings. I am vain like that. Is there a better way to mark a new beginning than a new year? Twenty Twenty Two. Twenty Twenty Two. Just feel the newness.

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

 I start making plans for the coming year in November and by December I am full mode on what things I am excited about in the coming new year. Like now, I am excited about growing my dreadlocks. They are around One and a half months. Two days ago, I felt like undoing them. I didn’t though. Now I am excited to see if throughout twenty twenty-two I will still be loc’d..

Right now, the only plans I have for the coming year are to hike 12 times, read 12 books and get serious about this blog. This year I have been to places(literally) because of the blog and so my mind has been drawn to how much potential it has.

 This morning, I woke up and thought to myself. “Why did you start this writing thing especially the blog?” I am struggling with consistency. This was just some little introspection on why.

In my adult life or at least since I got a smartphone and joined Twitter. And just a few months after learning about Chimamanda and feminism. I have always written long captions on my WhatsApp status. Cheers to being vain. After some time, I realized that not everyone can put sentences and words together and get meaning out of them with ease. Yet to me it was sort of natural. I realized I can write. I am not the best writer around. But I have good sentences. I can communicate in written English better than the average person. Also, I sometimes want to tell people storos about things. I often note and make stories out of scenarios that to an average person are just mundane experiences with nothing story-like. I realized I notice a lot of things that I can put in writing. I have opinions which I can put out there. I have personal experiences which I feel like sharing. But for what? As my creative contribution to the universe.

Photo by Sindre Stru00f8m on Pexels.com

See, I am one of those people who love thinking. I am a thinker. I love engaging my brain. I love looking for answers. However, I have realized that sometimes, things just happen. There is no reasoning behind them. No logic. In fact, if human existence might not have a why. It’s possible that there is no reason for our existence. It might just be a random occurrence that has no logic and reason behind it. You create meaning out of this existence. You decide how you want to contribute to existence.

When I started this writing thing my reasons were to share me. My brain, my experiences, my stories, my life, my world. The me that changes every so often. The me that resonates with you. The me that is human. Humanly faulty. Humanly dreamy. The human part that is similar with yours.

So as the year ends. I am excited about this blog.  I have plans to be consistent and get more serious about it. I want to invest my resources in it and see how it goes. It is possible that by the time the year gets to August I will have forgotten about these plans. I have learnt that maybe that’s just how life is. You plan and dream and desire. But somehow, life still takes it cause. But even when the cause of life changes, I want to continue sharing me. This is my creative contribution to the universe.

Bye Friend.

I hiked.

Nairobians are a unique lot. It is easy to differentiate them from the crowd. That’s what I have heard from those who have been lucky enough to travel beyond this city, which for some reasons I love but many Kenyans living in it hate.  I love Nairobi and by extension Nairobians. I think the things people hate about Kanairo are what I love.

When Nairobians come together a few things will definitely happen. First, almost no one will keep time. If the arrival time is 6 am like it was during this Longonot trip, be assured, the majority will arrive at 6.30 and by 6.45 will start complaining how no one keeps time. The hypocrisy makes me chuckle.

For me, I do not like waiting for people. I make sure I am strategically late. I will be late but it will not be obviously late. I make sure to be in time just before, the early birds, who I love and admire for their discipline, start getting impatient. Anyways, since time is a mental concept, I do not take the chronic lateness offensively. Infact, it is something, I prepare for.

This year, I have been exposed to many things that I had no idea happen. One of these things is tour companies. My money mind just made a note- Those people probably make a kill. I recently went to a trip to Mt. Longonot and Lake Naivasha. It’s like one of those trips we went to in primary school and high school. Only that right now, your company is of full grown adults with grown up problems, assumptions, ignorances and addictions.

 Also, over the years we have gained many calories thanks to KFC and its many flash sales and discounts courtesy of social media influencers who at home we call “masoshi”. As such, the hiking experience for the majority was not as fun. It was like the first work out after 5 years of being a corporate babe with a desperation to climb the corporate ladder.

Fat kids and overweight people like me had a hard time going up that mountain. But there were the fit ones who were hiking the mountain for the 3rd, 4th or 5th time, had a goal to go round the crater and take a certain amount of time while at. They inspired me to do that. So next year, I have a goal to hike the mountain again and go round the crater. Inshallah.

During the two hours I took to go up the mountain and back down, I encountered a few cases that made me question whether being rich is really something to look forward to. See, I think it comes with a few social disabilities especially for your kids. Like this one kid I met from an international school who came to hike in Yeezys. And this other overfed kid who you could tell ate KFC for dinner and pizza for breakfast. He was barely a quarter the mountain but was almost dying. For God’s sake rich people and future rich people, can y’all do better with what you feed children?

After hiking the mountain, we went to Lake Naivasha which was uneventful. Oooh, apart from the overcooked Tilapia thanks to Wambui. Something about us Kuyos and cooking. It is not in our blood, we might as well accept this soon. Us guys, who come to Vasha to enjoy food by the lakeside (please don’t picture anything fancy) should hire an Odhis to come train Shiko and her mates how to make Tilapia. Also, like typical Nairobians, we turned the area to a mini 1824- “Above the head….” Only that when this happens, again we lose track of time to the annoyance of those with things to do back in Nairobi.

As we went back, we were tired, most were drunk and of course, for memories sake, we did not miss a case or two of alcohol going wrong. And obviously, two singles meeting and a possible romance ensuing thanks to a hike in Mt. Longonot and a boat ride in Lake Naivasha.

Just Four

When I met her, she stood out from the crowd.  Her tall frame caught my eye, then I noticed her innocent looking face and the fact that she looked unbothered yet present enough to know what was happening.  That would be a day of many firsts. The first time they would out rightly objectify her, the first time she would question herself, the first time she would experience emotions she had no idea existed in her….

Photo by Kebs Visuals

Right now, you cannot miss the difference four years have had on her. Physically- have you seen how intimidating her eyes are? Devoid of shyness. 18-year-old her could never. Emotionally- She is finally securely attached. Spiritually- She just experienced her awakening. Psychologically- She is one of those people who always have something to teach you.

What if someone had told her that he’ll leave and she’ll be fine. That what is meant for her will never miss her. That they are not as perfect as they look. That they do not care about her life as much as she would assume they do. That she will learn many things that will unfortunately leave her confused and uncertain. That she will unknowingly put herself in trouble and embarrass herself.

Fortunately, at the end things would make sense. The different emotions, she would feel through the years would turn her into a better being. She would turn into a person who is important at certain tables. She would love to hate life and that would be the biggest paradox of her existence.

You mean those have been four years?

Hope; what it does

You are 24, fresh out of college.

Everything you thought would happen to you in Uni might have happened- new friends, emotional, mental, and physical growth, a glow-up, and for people like me who love things with layers and a bit of depth- unforgettable experiences that came with unforgettable lessons.

However, it has recently started occurring to you that there is some sort of disappointment that flashes back and forth from your mind. Then there is the realization that they lied to you. ‘Hey, go to school, get good grades and you will get a good job then everything will be sorted.’ With a good job comes all the things your teenage self (the naïve girl who knew no impossibilities) dreamt of. A nice apartment in a nice neighborhood, a car to avoid the noisy Rongai and Ngong’ Road matatus, weekend gateways to ‘Vasha’ because the gram lied to you that it is the hotbed of all things fun, brunch at Milan or Gemini where you can afford overpriced Mimosas.

It is now six months after the overrated day ( graduation) and all those dreams still seem like meager wishes. You are still struggling to live off the 19k salary that you get from being a social media intern at this recently set-up start-up.

Those dreams for brighter days begin to fade. ‘Why did all the hope I had about life go? How is Alice from high school managing to live large yet my future seemed brighter than hers? She is getting sponsored.’ You conclude in an attempt to convince yourself that your life is better. ‘At least I have a job. At least I can afford rent. At least I am not borrowing. Plus the start-up seems like it is growing, so there are chances that my salary will increase. Better yet, I am building my CV. Maybe soon I will get a better job. Maybe soon, all these dreams will become reality. Maybe soon, I will live the life my teenage self-hoped for and was convinced of the prospects.’ With this, you retire to bed and look forward to another day. Tomorrow might be my day for a breakthrough.

And so, you sleep and wait.

THAT IS HOPE FOR YOU. That is what it does.  It makes you leave another day because MAYBE, just maybe, tomorrow things will be better.

Kenyan journalists need to do better

As an ardent lover of history, one of the things I can bet on is that the media is perhaps the most powerful contributor to what a country is and what it will become. From the eras of Nazism, the world wars, cold war and the popular golden age of radio, it is with no doubt evident that the media contributed significantly to the events that formed the basis of the history of most countries.

I am not sure whether Kenyan journalist know the power they hold in their hands. If I was to gauge by the events in our media stations recently, my inference would be that Kenyan journalists are oblivious of the power they have and the responsibility they have in bettering Kenya.

The media is the unofficial fourth arm of government. It propagates the government agenda. It influences what the masses will believe. If it paints CBC as the right education system, Kenyans will believe that indeed it is the right one, despite its racist roots and the contradicting public rhetoric against colonialism and racism. No wonder if the media does not look at issues critically, Kenyans end up accepting policies and ideologies that are laced in good and difficult words but are derogatory to the economy and society in general.

Recently, Sophia Wanuna interviewed former chief justice Maraga and just like it was expected, the questions were the usual one. The government is doing this. Do you agree? Why or why not? And you know the issues of discussion were just the same- BBI, CBC, the budget, how Corona is being handled…

Although from face value, this looks like the questions journalists should be asking, they do nothing to the minds of Kenyans. If anything, they just push the government’s agenda instead of critiquing it and informing Kenyans on what the policies and issues in Kenya mean to them.

By not questioning, journalists are just unknowingly supporting the autocracy of the government that only favors those in power. Journalists are not thinking. The system cannot even allow them to think and read between the lines since making profits and being on the good side of the stakeholders is more important than public interest.

Unfortunately, as long as young journalists in schools are still taught on how to hold a microphone and the theory behind interviews instead of learning how to decipher information, think and have solid conversations, I guess we are doomed.

‘Westernization’ is Ugly on Kenyans

We cannot compare the Kenyan world with the western world. No wonder any form ‘civilization’ is met with a pinch of salt by many of us. Civilization is in quotes because does the western way of life really depict civilization or is it just sugar coated secularism.

See, I love reality shows, I have watched almost all that have existed. However, I believe Nairobi diaries is the gherroo. I feel like the attempts by the girls to come out as fun, modern and outgoing makes them look ratchet rather than boujee.

When Quarantine Radio by Tony Lanez started, I was the biggest fan. I used to tweet about it like I am being paid. Then the Kenyan version by Xtian Dela came up and I could only enjoy it for the first day. By the second day, it became too ratchet for my taste.

Now the last week, WAP by Cardi B and Meg the Stallion was released, I know 90% of the Lyrics and l play it at least five times a day. I genuinely enjoy it. Yes, there’s some hoes in this house.

Today, the internet is mad because one Otieno Aloko , an ohangla musician did a face book live and performed this song that to say the least is derogatory in all form and shape. I cringed at the few luo words I could understand. How does such an old man talk about sex using such terms. Awuoro!

Look, the messages in both songs revolve around the same thing- sex. Both Aloko and Cardi B are talking about sex without filtering it or calling it nyundo kukutana na kabati or some ridiculous thing like kuhihinya ihuha.

It is unfortunate that Aloko’s career is close to going down the drain for doing something that if Meg did, it would be excused.

I think Kenyans, even the seemingly liberal ones like me, are still too conservative for some things. I am still not comfortable with seeing Nairobi diaries -it is cringe worthy. But I rewatch love and hiphop, yet the cast on both shows are just doing the same things.

Fact is, westernization is ugly on Kenyans . Periodtt! This form of civilization does not fit us.

Inside Out

There is this documentary on Netflix about how young girls, about 18 years join the porn industry. It is sort of eye opening but as a journalist, I would rate it 2/10. My point for writing this is not to tell you how I rate a documentary on Netflix. However, something caught my eye about the girls. All who have joined the industry joined as a route to chase the modern form of slavery- likes, money and popularity.

Child, you are more than your looks. Trust!

See, I love money, so bad. But I know what the obsession of it can lead you to. So, I tread the paper chasing road carefully. And I hope all of you who are materialistic would do the same. Know the power money has and be careful not to lose your soul in chasing money aka vanity.

In the course of the documentary, one of the girls said she had made 10,000 dollars and she was about to go get her boobs done. I am a supporter of plastic surgery. In fact, if I live long enough to have 2 million as loose change, I will get my body done- get my waist snatched and get a mastopexy. Haha. Yes, I am allowed to dream and do whatever with my body, just like the girls on the documentary.

Nonetheless, I know that getting a ‘perfect’ body is the least of my priorities and should not be anyone’s priority. This is because, there is more to a human being than their looks. If anything, most people who do plastic surgery to fit societal’s standards of beauty get addicted to it.

So when an 18 year old gets a boob job to look good for social media, chances are by the time they turn 30, they will be unrecognizable. So what is my point, Child, work on yourself inside out. Use your body however you deem fit but first work on making sure that you are happy with the inside before you work on the outside. Thank you for reading my unsolicited advice.

Becoming by Michelle Obama – A Review

Just finished reading the famous becoming. I have tried reading it like two times before but somehow I could not get beyond the first chapter.

My thoughts
It is well written and Michelle’s story is inspiring. However I felt like she explained details that were unnecessary and missed the important ones like her life as a law student in Harvard.
Also reading the book has debunked so many myths I had about her relationship with Obama.
See, when people want to make sense out of ‘struggle love’, they are quick to mention how Michelle was Obama’s advisor at Sidley( I am so impressed I can remember the name of the law firm where they met). But the reality is Obama had already achieved so much before he went Michelle. Also Michelle mentions that Obama was admirable- physically and intellectually because he was handsome, smart hence could get a job anywhere he wanted and he was not poor. Yes, Michelle says that Obama was not poor when they met. So I do not get where the idea that Obama was a poor man rescued by Michelle comes from. If anything, Obama made Michelle. He made Michelle want to seek identity and go after things that were fulfilling- not what she had always known( becoming a lawyer and practising it because that’s what society expected from her).


From her story I have learned that it is okay not have things figured out. There’s this guy in the office who is overly focused and knows exactly where he wants to be in the next 5 years. Then there’s me who is just trying everything and anything that seems interesting. I have no idea what I want to be doing in 2025. Sometimes this makes me feel unfocused and unintentional with what I am doing but becoming made me realize that the fact that you have no idea what your future looks like is an indication that it is brighter than the wildest of your imaginations. You just have to live a day at a time, be delightful in your becoming and be the best you can be in any position you hold.

Most importantly I have been reminded about the role a spouse plays in your life and why choosing one should not be a gamble.

I now want to know how life as a first daughter is like. Malia or Sasha should write a book some day.