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Writing is all that is left – Part 2

2 a.m in the morning. I just got into bed after a hilarious one or so something hours of Zoolander (Dear God that movie is stupid!). I tossed and turned for a few minutes before accepting that I’m just not sleepy… yet. Then I remembered that the thing I craved most of all about getting a new laptop is the chance to do something constructive, or just active, with my insomnia. And, well, we all know that writing is my go-to. So here I am.

I don’t exactly have a topic I want to embark on tonight. To be quite frank I have no idea where I’m going with this. But God it feels so good to write!! It feels like… like I’m in another world if I’m honest. One where all my dreams are not only possible but are actually real.

Actually here.
In this world, I’m traveling to coast by plane. Not because I feel entitled and can’t ride a bus or anything, but only because I haven’t been on a flight yet. I get on that small gadget the Wright Brothers invented, and the beauty of this all is the excitement, the exhilaration of doing something new. At this moment, I totally understand what my buddy Richard Branson meant when he said, “Don’t ever lose the excitement of discovering something new.”
In this world, I’m sitting by the beach. The sun is not nearly as blisteringly hot as it would be in reality. The palm trees are more aloof than could ever be. There are laughter and shrieks all around, and I’m watching it all, smiling quietly as I write all about it. The little kids are running into the ocean and then scampering back ashore as the waves roll in. The lovers are walking hand in hand, probably on their honeymoon. The beach boys are shouting out all sorts of services they offer for a tuppence. It’s a typical day at the beach. I love every minute of it.

I get back there in the dark of night. This time, all is quiet, all souls are deep in slumber. All but the ocean, whose spirit is alive and ferocious. The only thing I hear is the crashing waves as they hit shore. Tide after tide after tide. I have to tell you, few things in this world bring out inner peace. The heart of the ocean is one of them.
In this world, I’m back home. Only, I don’t live with my parents. I have my own little apartment. It has a balcony with a beautiful view of the sunset. It has a small kitchenette where I make cinnamon pancakes when I’ve got cravings. There are paintings all over the walls- some made by me, some by actual artists (hehe, not that I doubt my skills) My loo has a tiny stack of magazines and novels (100% comfort as you do your business if you ask me) My friends won’t quit teasing me about it every time they come over) On the balcony, there are little pots of flowers. I don’t know them by name, but they make me so happy every time I sit with my coffee just gazing out. Among the flowers are a few herbs that Winnie said were good for me. Their scent, Lord their deep, earthy smell just gets me. That little garden makes me so proud. Maybe I should do a bit of spinach here while I’m at it.

In this world, I wake up each morning full of energy. Before I get out of bed, I remember my mantra; “Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in Spirit, serve the Lord.” And that is what I am dedicated to. Each day I purpose to follow excellence because I know that success will chase my pants down. At this moment (the real moment), I don’t see that distinction is being a teacher. I don’t know that it’s a mentor. I don’t know that it’s an artist, a counselor, an agribusiness consultant. I don’t see that it’s all of these things, or that it’s none of them. What I do know is that whatever the combination, I am definitely kicking ass. When I get into my oh-so-cozy bed each night, I smile knowing that I have lived my mantra, and now I can rest.
In this world, the thing I see almost most clearly of all, is a moment such as this one. Whether in a coffee shop, trying a new variance of latte, or in a bus, on my way to Tafaria (I’m definitely going there soon) Whether in my office, on a lazy afternoon, or in my house, listening to Tanya Stephens. I’m seated as comfortably as I can get, I have this beautiful machine on my lap, this goofy smile on my face, and I’m typing. I amuse myself with little jokes I’m inserting. Sometimes I cry because the story is too emotional. On some days I even forget my laptop. So now I’m at Java, waiting for a friend, busy with a pen and notebook. I don’t know that I exist without writing, even the dumbest of things. I don’t know that I ever was not connected to this great lurrrrrve of mine. But the thing I see most of all, even without knowing how, is that my words shall impact people. And someday soon I’ll be the one getting interviewed (whoop whoop!)
So, back to 2a.m. Back to reality. My tush is a bit sore from sitting up. My eyes are starting to get a bit heavy. But my heart is doing a little dance in excitement. This is the first piece on this laptop. Hopefully the start of many. Hopefully the beginning of a legacy. Because these dreams, they remain nothing but… dreams. And who wants to forever swoon at fantasies when they could actually turn them into the real deal?

Via Maggie Mungai

Read Part 1 of Writing is all that is left.

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Mkeka: The fading gem

When my grandmother sent for me, I knew whatever she wanted to show or tell me was of importance and it couldn’t wait. Once at her place I was fed to the brim as usual,you know how grandmas are right? Done, she called me in her room that had this warmth and always felt like home. Next to her bed was the decorative mat, mkeka wa chole.

“Take it” she said.

Puzzled, I asked why. I knew I was supposed to be given one on my wedding and so i couldn’t understand why she was giving me one then.

“You are different and you will need it. And maybe when the day comes, I might not be here to hand this to you”, she said in a frail loving voice.

Baffled, I sat next to her on her king size bed draped with silky sheets.

“I know you already know how important the mkeka is. And I want you to pass this down to your children’s children because we are living in a world that is evolving as the sun rises.”

As of this very moment, as I write this, very few of us do possess a mkeka and we all  know the cultural significance it has.

Mkeka’s importance in Swahili culture is also embedded with Islamic/Arabic culture. Mkeka is a woven mat, mostly used during the early days made from an indigenous palm tree found at the coastal parts of Africa. It comes from two Swahili words woven together- mke (woman) kaa(have a seat). Mkeka is mostly used as floor mat but it has other many usage such as wall hangings, table, prayer mats and on beds. But the most cardinal use is when one dies and it is used to wrap the body, then taken to grave.

Back in the day, a newly wed woman would be given one as a present for her new house. A brief reminder of the mkeka from grandmothers and aunts to her would go like this; “Mkeka huu, wafungua kwako, kama mama wa nyumba. Mkeka huu mtaswalia, mtakalia, mtalalia, mtapigana juu yake, mtapendana juu yake na
wakati wako ukifika wa kutokua mja hapa duniani, utakupeleka mpaka kwenye kaburi lako. Mtunze mkeka huu Kwani ndio ufunguo wa nyumba yako“(This mat will be of great significance to you as the mother of the house. You will play and pray on it,sleep on it,sit on it,cry on it, fight and love each other on it. And when your time to depart this world comes,this mat will carry you to the grave. Take good care of it as it is the key to your home).

These words are just an echo of what you’ve always known your entire life but now are transformed from being words to reality of the life one is about to embark after that day.

Mkeka nowadays has flourished from being a palm tree mat to sisal, string, clothes and many other materials. You will always find a mkeka in a mosque, the only thing separating the cold floor and one’s feet in the house of God.

Creativity has also played a huge part in mkeka evolution. You will get baskets, fancy wall hangings, table covers etc at coastal markets and other cultural shops. You will find it in Swahili houses but not on the floor. It will be wrapped somewhere in the corner, only used when necessary.

Mwacha mila ni mtumwa – A Swahili proverb.

So get your mkeka, be it for decoration, or any other personal use, beautify and preserve the culture.

Via NayNay.

ALL HANDS ON DECK!; ABANDON SHIP!

Loose lips sink ships is something I’ve heard said on one or more occasion thus probably why sailors hold a reputation of having the most vulgar and coarse language. They tend to be rowdy and are often involved in drunken bar brawls when they make port. Alongside being scandalous lovers akin to long-distance truck drivers, their devil may care attitude may be attributed to the fact that at a point in history almost a third of the crew on a ship was buried at sea. A dangerous occupation although one may argue a majority of them were on the run from terrestrial demons, perhaps all the fables of sea monsters did not point to the certitude that probably the devils were pretty adept swimmers.

A particular breed of sailors are the pirates of the Caribbean majority of whom were actually naval officers sanctioned by her majesty’s the queen of Britain government to loot Spanish vessels as privateers: a medieval trade war. On the surface, they seem a bunch of, but on close inspection, one finds that discipline is a core trait of the more successful companies, plus the benefits were equally shared in spite of rank as opposed to other official outfits that relied on wages thus spoils in the latter were skewed top to bottom.

The threat of violence is key to the code of honor among thieves. This is how criminals who by virtue are serpents are able to collaborate. It is not just the rudimentary use of brutality that poised one to higher ranks, but how far one is willing to go that is to say a scoundrel that merely used his fists to settle scores is less feared than one who resorts to cloak and dagger wars, but a more sinister villain has a clique so loyal as to do the dirty deeds for them without fear or hesitation. These sorts tend to be alpha males but even they from time to time get tested any glimpse of weakness doesn’t go unnoticed.

Aside from murder, a challenger to authority may be subjected to less fatal punishment or humiliation to humble them enough to be a productive adherent. Some crimes were punitive for example larceny, but acts of insubordination were remedied by flogging or starvation, maybe even shunning and demotion or rank.

One interesting, pardon me I meant horrendous form is keelhauling, where an offender was tied to a rope that was looped beneath the vessel, thrown overboard on one side of the ship and dragged under the ship’s keel( either of two parts: a structural element resembling a fin that protrudes below a boat along the central line; or a hydrodynamic element. These parts overlap). The culprit is either pulled from one side of the ship to the other, starboard to port perhaps or the length of the vessel from bow to stern if you like.

“mwenda tezi na omo, marejeo ni ngamani.” ~ KISWAHILI PROVERB.

The above-stated event resulted in a death sentence or torture so severe it permanently maimed. The bottom of the ship is covered in barnacles leading to lacerations and most probably drowning. Thus a sailor’s worst nightmare is a boat keeling over and a famous maritime quip after ‘shiver me timbers’ and snarling is the adage: the captain goes down with the ship. This is because his or her attachment to a man-of-war or floating bucket is supposed to be so strong that they were conjoined twins where one is buried in the other as a corpse and casket. This may, in fact, be in a line of the view that a commander must try all they can to win a battle while preserving the lives of his charges or in this case save the ship or ensure at least every person on board is off the vessel before they disembark. By so doing they retain the respect of their underlings, more so since persons sailing under the skull and bones black banner often tend to be damaged goods, neglected archetypes that lacked a father figure.

Of course, the opposite of losing a ship is gaining another one coupled with the promotion of rank to that of a Commodore which is bestowed on one with a fleet. What else would reward your second in command, a loyal first-mate than their own domain? My question to you is quite simple, are you captain of your ship yet? *BON VOYAGE!*

Via Sir Alan

New New ; “Service be our earnest endeavor”

PROVERBS 30:7-10(NIV)
” Two things I ask of you, O Lord;
do not refuse me before I die:
Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
but give me only my daily bread.
otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
and say, ‘ who is the Lord?’
Or I may become poor and steal
and so dishonor the name of the God.
Do not slander a servant to his master
or he will curse you, and you will pay for it.

The antonym for this piece is probably for all intents and purposes ‘same old’. It is not quite an original thought of yours truly but I only recently came to that realization. Even though the sobriquet of the antagonist in the romance theme in rapper T.I of the ‘ I invented trap music’ trope, debut flick ATL is New new, it is while writing this I find her character an antithesis in that even though she comes from money and got her agnomen because her clothes and what not were always new, as in fifth avenue New york or Rodeo drive california store bought brand new, she insisted on going to the same school in the hood her father had clawed and clamored out of. Here was a creature with the option of having a better childhood experience than her parents but instead chose willingly to go through what her father went through in the gist of keeping it real.
It’s a movie but for a teenager,it retrospectively sounds enlightened but on first glance looks stupid if not ungrateful.
In light of the above I wonder what unbridled accumulation of wealth portends if it cannot or will not be used to satiate our desires and that of our loved ones. This is in juxtaposition of the mega scandals in my country in which corruption is now infamously now seen as an art-form although there is nothing elegant in the schemes which are more or less smash and grab. I am more intrigued by what the monies pilfered will buy and whether there are consequences to these actions. I am a big fan of poetic justice and I tend to believe the children of the looters will probably not be bedridden but will be socially awkward people who feel or have to be the one buying drinks in order to have friends. I say so since it is not in my nature to wish anyone ill.

A million shillings in cash or in the bank is a pipe-dream for at least 99% of the citizen of Kenya. It may not seem much to the top 1% of which I’m most likely situated but to one is not frivolous a quarter of that amount can afford you a two bed-roomed corrugated iron sheet bungalow on a 1/8 of an acre just 30km away from the capital city’s CBD in Kitengela, the remainder of that sum could subsidize your daily needs for a decade, but as the legendary poetic thespian American Christopher Wallace postulated “more money, more problems“.

Therefore every time a scam worth billions is unearthed my thoughts wanders to persons on the fringes such as a middle aged man who has never seen the inside of a classroom or a bitumen paved road and sustained themselves via herding other peoples cattle. Whether they can relate to the quoted figures or is it only us the elites who can readily be envious of the inane things the loot could afford us. In conjecture perhaps the herdsmen in the northern frontier view our comforts with a hint of jealousy or maybe quite the opposite they pity us for need of all this trinkets to be whole that is a roof over our heads while they get a galaxy of stars.
I read the verses in the beginning with apprehension since I understand to an extent the philosophy of the here and now but as a humanoid differentiated from other beasts I seek a buffer against the unknown, the tomorrow even though it may never come. With the knowledge of what has transpired that is to say yesterday, whether good or bad, what is yet to come seems to have a greater hold on us and even seeks a ransom.
Anyway before I founder and end up ‘ circulus probando‘ let’s finish with a devious quote.
Those who say money can’t buy happiness obviously don’t know where to shop“.

~Sir Alan Leo

‘Mandatum’(It has been spoken).

 

[edsanimate_end]Kennedy space center, a rocket taking off , this was engraved on my tiny tee, my favorite Tshirt to be precise, a Tshirt that I wore every weekend when I was 10 years old. There was something about that shuttle, the flames beneath it that my small brain couldn’t comprehend but only got fascinated by.

The image was something like this.
The image was something like this.

Did you know that Thad Roberts, a NASA intern, spent 7 years in federal prison after having sex with his girlfriend on a bed full of stolen moon rocks? 🤪

Hoots here, hoots there, fast life, no this is not the outer space. Bright lights, strange waves, what’s there to worry? Nothing to lose each time you get knocked down. No fear of the unknown, just floating in a frequency only you can feel. Anything more exciting than this?

Well there is, I just came across a field, a field that we’re all entitled to plough, we’re are farmers by design if not by default. Is it a calling? Or do we stumble upon it by sheer luck? I told you about restoring your system to default when you feel like your software isn’t responding. It comes to a point that you have to pick the jembe and be a mkulima, scrub the mchagua jembe sio mkulima code off your script.

I just started ploughing my shamba, there are no bright lights, life isn’t fast here, every move matters. Every tool I use. In this field it’s ploughing ploughing but for the fruits that I’m sure I’ll enjoy tomorrow.

The shamba really looks fabulous so far, it rains sometimes, other times it pours, most of the time it’s like watching the sun set with the birds singing, thunder rarely comes. I’m not planning to put my tools down, not anytime soon. This is my Space center. I am the astronaut.

Farming I realize is within us all.

Reprogram, change your ways, there’s a field that awaits you. A space that is only meant for you.

Be good do good.

Woop Woop. Lock me in Watamu and throw away the keys.

I consider myself an introvert but i think I’m an extrovert,depending on the company I’m around. I can be crazy, be the best dancer, be the loudest in a group and at the same time be the most reserved person in a room. Does this make me an ambivert? I don’t know. I will continue with these online tests until i figure it out, anyhow, thats a story for another day.

In my posts i told you about my amazing trip to Watamu via Gedi ruins.

Traveling is the next best thing i have realized after solitude. I usually find myself thriving in solitude and its not up until i decided to make a small random trip off to Watamu that i realized theres more to life than i had imagined in my tiny mind. A mind that I’m realizing with each new day has lot of hidden capabilities. My craft really comes out best in solitude, as it depends on it more than anything, feeds on it like everything . For me theres no better way to do what i enjoy doing most while i am all by myself in the comfort of my own skin. Solitude i came to realize exists in all people but to varying degrees as it starts with the initial days of life. “Did you know that babies routinely turn away from their parents not because they want to sleep but because they need to disengage?” something i just read the other day. Well now you know. So with seclusion comes healing, finding, discovering ourselves, what we dropped off along the way trying to impress the wrong ones, things we sacrificed for the wrong cause.

Back to Watamu, there is one beautiful world out there, a world where i came to realize there is no fear of the unknown, a world with literally endless possibilities(not Maleek Berry’s), a world with crystal clear waters, super friendly and feels like home yet you’ve never been there before . A world with each day as it comes. (sounds like paradise yeah).

Told you how i felt when i saw dolphins for the first time,(wanting to scream out mamas name and show her lifes most beautiful moments) nothing beats that feeling for me. The way they show off swimming in numbers,playing hard to spot, i was told that we were on our best luck since there were a bunch of them that day. It was like running after a beautiful girl, getting turned down each time you thought you had them (my best description). I had the fear of deep sea diving and it all went away when i saw those beautiful fishes(or is it fish,my fiance told me “there are no fishes”,sigh) for the first time, the way they rub on your skin. One had a brother living on an island in an aquarium in a five-star hotel somewhere out there. I even got to meet dory, but she was in a hurry still looking for her family, sigh.

I visited one of the most secluded private island that i never knew existed, WakaWaka Island, named after its superhot sands, where one local told me that you could literally light a ciggarete from the sand.

The guys here were the best and most welcoming crew, I’m not a fan of seafood but a grilled chicken(one that had crossed the road) was specially made for me.

These guys are responsible for the upkeep of this beautiful island and are the friendliest people you will ever come across. On top of that they have the best coffee,Italian made, and they spoke fluent Italian. Per favore and Prego are the only Italian words i am familiar with.

We were entertained to a traditional dance and only the ones who could withstand the heat would take part in the dance.

It was time to leave the island and go back home. Sigh, how time went by so quick.

All I’m trying to tell you is that once in a while visit a place that you’re not sure off, my advice, start off with Watamu, your experience will be priceless and it won’t set your pocket back that much, the vibe about this place will make you want to go back for more . You won’t regret a penny spent here. Life is what you make it. Pack a bag plan a trip. Go, work for WakaWaka (just playing with words here).

Life I’m realizing is more pleasurable when we don’t feel the need to control it. Be good do good.

Reset.Default Settings *Happiness*

In my pursuit of happiness and finding a sense of personal fulfillment I decide to go on a small mission that I’ve been procrastinating for the past six months now. The modern Maasai and their contentment with life.

By now we all know that the Maasai are the Poster children of Kenya and the tribal Africa in general, Wakanda forever 😄.

They’re found at southern Kenya and Northern Tanzania. You hear the word Maasai you see Men jumping and beautiful women shrugging their shoulders.

On your way to town from Nyali at the buxton Malindi stage you’ll see some Maasai guys with strands of hair on their hands.

In the evening after work I decided to pay them a short visit . Luckily I come across one and I tell him about my happiness project. He is hesitant at first and I tell him the project will help a lot and he’ll be a part of it. He gives me a look of approval and we sit down for a chat.

He is 28 years of age and he introduces himself as Yakobo. Yakobo used to be a cattle herder in his hometown a small village off Arusha Tanzania . He had his formal education in Tanzania but he decided to come to Kenya to look for greener pastures.

He ended up working as a hairdresser after being inspired by a friend and he has been practicing it for the past two years. He tells me the knowledge he got back home from his Moran roots. He tells me he gets his products at Ksh 70 and his price for braiding the famous thin Rasta like dreadlocks ranges from 1000-3000 depending on the preference of his customer.

Apparently there are over 100 guys in buxton who specialize in the same field as him. On a good day he’ll go home with ksh 3000 and most of the days he’ll go home empty handed . I asked him if he ever tried other jobs but he replies that it’s the only one he’s comfortable at. He pays ksh 30 a day and he’s responsible for maintaining the cleanliness of his open hair salon spot. He’s very happy with his work and he tells me it took a lot of courage to leave his hometown to come out here to forge his happiness. I realize he prefers working on his own as he tells me he has a dream of starting his own salon in the area.

Midway through our conversation another Maasai passes by who’s curious of what’s going on, he introduces himself and I notify him about my project,I ask if his willing to share his story and he exchanges a glance with Yakobo communicating with an expression too subtle for me to discern. I tell him that it’s a story that’ll inspire others out there. He sits down takes out his tobacco pours a little on his palm and sniffs it.

He tells me how he helped out another young lady with a school project, he proudly tells me how the girls project was the best and he asks if the story will benefit only me, but I get to convince him that the story will be read by hundreds if not thousands of people who’ll get to know his work. His name is Moses , 53 years of age but he looks 40 , physically strong and he comes across with a good sense of humor.

He has a good demeanor and he portrays a feeling of pride something he flaunts with his posture and a bright smile.

Health is all that matters to him.Moses sells traditional medicines and he owns cattles back at his home in tanga . He tells me he decided to go into this work after he came to work as a watchman only to realize that the money he was making wasn’t enough to sustain his four wives and twenty one children back at home. He tells me one is allowed to marry as many women as the number of cows he can afford. So his option was to become a herbalist a knowledge that is instilled in them from their childhood days. Moses tells me he specializes in head and stomach related illnesses. I ask him what the blood in his jerrycans heals and they all burst out laughing, he composes himself and tells me that it’s a type of tree and it’s never blood, how ignorant I’ve been all along, sigh.

With a broad smile he proudly tells me how you’ll rarely find a Maasai at the hospital getting treated as they all maintain a good healthy living condition. He tells me again it’s hard to find a Maasai convicted of crimes as they keep themselves busy. He asks me to share his story and how he is angered by the copycats (people from other communities) plying their trade.He is worried with the pace at which the world around him is changing. I cut him short by asking him about the famous Maasai aphrodisiac. He bursts out laughing telling me it’s true. He calls it Mburgeri and only found in a specific location during August and November. A small one goes for 3000 and it’s purely natural with no side effects.

He asks for a photo with me and we take one with Yakobo too.

To me these guys are the epitome of contentment, a good path I took in my pursuit of happiness journey, I hope you find something that’ll keep you satisfied and give you a sense of purpose and happiness, don’t stop until you find it, destroy anything that will stop you in your quest to find the ultimate satisfaction, create good vibes and spread it all around.

Be good do good.

Unravel… This way? That way?

Ever sat down and question your purpose in this universe, like where you’re headed, every step of your journey, if things are taking shape and all that?

I’ve been trying to figure this for quite some time now. I never got the chance to tell you about my second tragic accident, how I survived it, only He knows. I believe there’s a reason to it, this not being the first time I cheated on death, you know about my first accident.

Ever felt like you’re an instrument, in an experiment of some sort? Reason you come across certain people in life and how you influence their behavior vice versa? Ever felt like you’re Frank from sausage party or some character in a movie given that if a book or show was based on your life it’d be a bestseller?

I try finding the most exhilarating event of my life either through people and through the journey of whom I’m meant to be.

Who’s even sure of what they’re supposed to become? Sometimes we hide, pretend and we keep ourselves busy trying to distract our minds but we can never ignore that voice calling inside us. A voice that is only distinctively meant for us.

Most of the the times we crave aliveness and fulfillment in people and in the process we find ourselves wasting energy and heartache continually chasing the things that will fill us up.

We’re the ones in charge of our destiny by the choices we make each day. This one time I lost my identity through social media, something I never talked about only to realize it can destroy someone if not carefully managed. I’ll talk about this in my next piece.

Surrounding ourselves with the things we love and engaging in desired activities really has an effect.

There’s nothing better than kickstarting each day with the ability to fully express yourself and inspire those around you. In doing so setting values for yourself and honoring them. Stand for something and let it push you daily. Through this you’ll get rid of the mediocre, the ordinary, people’s expectations and opinions.

You’re allowed to be a badass once in a while, you don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea, or going with the programmed theme of society with misguided teachings and mindsets that will push you off track .

I try orienting my life to what excites me and looking for adventure that I feel calls from within.

The next hour isn’t guaranteed, leave alone tomorrow. Set yourself out and go knocking down each boundary you’ve created and help others along the way find their potential.

Ask yourself what’s stopping you from being happy and work on getting rid of it. Remember everything you come across and going through is preparing you for something big, let every lesson be worth it and don’t forget to be grateful. And pray and pray and pray.

Be good do good.

Reconnect : In Pursuit of Happiness, My way.

Who wakes up at 2am and just laughs at the mistake they made a few days back ? Well you guessed right, that’s me, only that this time the mistake is a word pronunciation I made while we were going through the list of the most spoken lingua in Africa with my workmates.

I came across “Berber” and pronounced it as written. One of my workmates bursts out laughing but the other one moderately corrects me. I pull off a quick one telling them the berber I’m referring to is a tribe in Somalia. Well played Moulid well played, I pat myself on the back.

But hey did you know Swahili is the most spoken language in Africa with over 100 million speakers, and that researchers find those who crack self-depreciating jokes to be happier and more sociable, well you can read about the latter Here and thank me later.

So back to reality, I have been procrastinating for quite sometime now when it comes to writing. I’ve been selfishly writing for myself not sharing it out with you guys, always avoiding nagging questions from close friends on when I’ll be putting up something on my blog. I had to take a small break, as usual.

Is this age catching up with me? at 27 I feel super old and a bit left behind trying to catch up with life. 26 was one eye opening stage. I failed in a lot of things, businesses startups, relationships, pursuit of small dreams and a few things I’ll share with you along the way when the time is right. But 2017 ended in the best of ways, the last three months to be precise and the lessons learnt will always be invaluable.

Remember when I told you I find solace in depressing music a while back? Now I find it in people who’re going through tough times in their life and food and lots of food.

This one day I woke up to a post on Facebook of some guy who had committed suicide. I was shocked given that the guy seemed to be one happy soul from his posts on social media. Never knew him in person but It really left me feeling empty. So I decided from then I’d be checking up on a friend or even a stranger, analyze what they post on social media, and the ones I could reach out to physically I talked to them one on one, try finding out what they’re going through.

It was one of the best decision I made up to this moment, as people even strangers could open up to you when you decided to listen and be part of them.

This one time some matatu driver on my way from Mtwapa told me about his dreams and how they were shattered by the mistakes and choices he made, how no one ever got to listen to his story, how he normally perceived things, I listened to him and gave him some encouraging words and to my surprise his energy changed and he was really optimistic on what was ahead. I usually tell the people close to me about my “big ears“, I can listen to you all day and I’ll speak less.

Listening, I realized also helped me in a big way. Removing people’s obstacles, the ones created by their minds,setting up boundaries that they think can’t be broken, became a norm. I had to check up on anyone going through a rough patch. I’d travel miles just to sit down with someone and listen to their story.

It reached a point to where I was overwhelmed and it really had an effect on me, I opened up to a friend and it did help me. (Thank you Zinquisha Mobetto. )

To me, it’s the way I’m built, seeing everyone and everything around me doing good really pushes me forward.

This was my pursuit of happiness where I almost lost myself but luckily I’ve learned to balance it all. Most of my posts are on happiness, I’ve tried running after one, searched inside myself, looked for it in friends and family but only to realize that happiness is me. I just read that the Indian government have introduced a “happiness” classes in their curriculum, well. I’ll leave it there.

Be good to yourself, change your routine, try something new even if it’s a small thing each week. Eat that vegetarian dish at lunch if you always eat meat, listen to some music that isn’t your normal cup of tea. Create variation and expand your comfort zone regularly in small ways. Pray and pray and pray. Be around friends who motivate you, friends who’ll listen to you, be kind to your folks, reconnect with what you used to love if it has fallen by the wayside and let things fall into place, focus your energy on the good things, don’t get lost buddy, forgive others but don’t forget to forgive yourself, feed the young child In you, you’re nothing without it, focus on your bright moments most, let the rough patches build you up, believe in yourself, all will be well trust me.

If you want happiness for an hour – take a nap

If you want happiness for a day – go fishing

If you want happiness for a year- inherit a fortune

If you want happiness for a lifetime- help someone else

Chinese proverb .

*Be good do good, if you need someone to talk to, feel free to hit up my dm or mail, I will respond.*

Cheers.

Waffles and honey… The Cheat-codes to Happiness

“Morini wangu, najisikia na ile ii ile mende”.

Somewhere back in 1995, pre school. Ibrahim has just ripped one of those melody singing robots (can’t seem to find its name) from one of the cards and he has carried it to school. Back then you had this, and you were ‘the man’.

Break time and the robot is singing melodiously as Ibrahim tries his best to hide it, this time we’re doing the above song that’s to be dedicated to one of our crush who’s a class above us. A light skin lady, legs so straight like the bamboo,super sleek with no blemishes, her face I can’t describe well up to this day,Sigh. Cindy Crawford comes close. We rehearse this song for a week and during each break session we’d try to approach our lady morini who never even bothered throwing a glance our way.

Two weeks down the line, I get transferred to another school but the hymn still playing in my head. Guess morini will never hear it,even in her dreams. I don’t know if Ibrahim made the move that day but all I know is that I let Love slip through my tiny hands, and the first love song I ever composed went down the drain.

Twenty two years later, still trying to figure out how a candle lit the sun, with the clouds that had covered everything. The sources that I tried all this while ever since the moon left with my shine.

I’ve been watching this candle from the sky all along,just looking at it lighting other sources , wax dripping off it but holding itself up each time.

Not until I left my dark clouds to talk to the candle did I get my rays back shining. The candle with its small flame did magic that day.

“There’s a girl living in my neighborhood……. Two souls where a river meets an ocean somewhere on a quiet beach freestyling to this John Holt’s song, “when she walks…… “love love love” another song pops up midway…

Cheat codes, you know those cheat codes in games where you can pull off and do special skills,well that you can do too in real life. I realized cheat codes is speaking your heart out, not holding anything back, turning a blind eye, deaf ears to anything that will try compromise your shine. Not sending your light to the wrong objects. Look for a source, shine your light upon it, if it doesn’t boomerang you’ re allowed to look for a different source. Ok this is not science 🤦🏽‍♂️.

The other day I played the mice when all she wanted was a camel, hump hump we pulled it off, everyday gets better. Life’s too short to not speak your heart, sing that worse tune in your head. Speak that gibberish language, make those stupid dance moves, count the stars because there’s someone who’ll understand it at the end.

I don’t understand this article but all I know is that a fish and a bird can fall in love, where they eat and live is up to them. I’m just a city mice leaving on a sandy beach in love with a crab and you bet we’ ll fish and live on it.

Be good.

Morini is Maureen….

By now you’ve all met Superstar… and now that I’ve met my solitude it’s time to protect it.
&l
e’re all a little weird, and life’s a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”Dr.Seus