Author: mirawu

Japanese Splitz

I was with another amazing soul today and we were talking of the fundamentals of a happy life. Fundamental. That’s a funny word. 

He said that the Kirubis and Chandarias, with all that coin in their accounts, have a 98 percent chance of not being as happy as the Tom and Harrys who can only afford to get their basic necessities.

I know, this is something we all say. It might, on one part, be the reason behind the phrase “ukifika huko juu usinisahau”. 

Is it that we see the lack of content so early that we have the need to warn our kith and kin to not get overwhelmed by chedda so much that the past slips their minds? 

Today I’m having one of those RnB nights. All that’s going to play is some Fenty, Mariah, Ne-yo, Jordin and a little bit of Mario.

I am also hungry, but when am I not? I’m only a little bit too lazy to get up to cook right now. Plus who has the time to start thinking of what to eat right now? 

There are bigger issues at hand. 

I am avoiding social media tonight because of this yearly catastrophe. 

Saint Valentine’s day is tomorrow, meaning that almost everything that is on my online feed is related to matters of the heart and love and being single-and-not-searching, being single-and-happy, waiting-on-tomorrow and all things that I do not want to relate to right now.

It might seem hypocritical, especially because of the sounds from my speakers, but that’s irrelevant. It is common knowledge that I don’t like the dark.

I need some background noise so that when I turn off the lights, I do not put images of Ryuk (read Ree-yook) in certain shadows cast into this bedsitter by bulbs places outside to act as security lights. 

I get up to scramble the eggs and accomplish my never ending vocation of feeding myself ever so often. I should also join a gym for this developing layer in the area around my abdomen. 

I always thought the tummy could be part of the thorax for humans(because the waist is the separation line like in insects, but the waist is said to also be on the same tummy), and there was no mention of a human thorax in my four years of Biology. 

What my new acquaintance said to me keeps coming back though. How can you not be content with all that life has to offer? If you were stripped of it all, would you be happy? Perhaps feel free from the imprisonment of luxury? 

In honor of “alentine ay”, (I saw a meme about this, if you get it then good for you), I thought I should write of a few things about yours truly.

I like the simpler things in life. The small gestures that hit me right in my core. 

I like quiet nights in and sharing earphones to listen to the same song. 

Crisscrossed pairs of legs and genuine smiles. 

The softest of touches and the silence that comes with it. 

I like looking deep in eyes and falling deeper every time. 

 🎵…and these are a few of my favourite things🎵

I explained this to someone and they said I am a hopeless romantic. 

I have never thought of myself as one, but after she said it, I sat down to think. 

I might be a hopeless romantic. 

Would hearts be more free if the mind gets the freedom it so well deserves?

I might want to love deep and hard. To have one person that makes you smile just by existing. I might want to love so hard and be sure of a heart break. Because only then will you have truly loved. 

I might want a bond so strong it shows in our eyes when other people look at us. A bond so unbreakable it becomes sustainable on its own.

I might also want to argue, not a lot, just enough to get me so infuriated that I go banging doors while walking away. 

I might want to want to hit them just so they too can hurt. To have an anger towards the love I might have for them. 

I might want to dream of being with someone and miss them so bad that I wake up hugging my pillow. I might want to love hard. 

There are people with hearts like the one I think about I hope. People whose sole intention is not to leave as soon as possible. 

People who don’t want to love by the book. People who love outside the box. 

Who want to feel for a human the way I feel for Cadbury Eclairs. 

That they make them happy just by thinking of them, whether they are in the vicinity or on shelves. Whether they are available or not. The satisfaction I get when they are close. 

But then, what if I get bored with them? Not the eclairs. 

I have a short attention span when it comes to people. That’s why I have so few friends. It’s one reason why I want to own a Japanese Splitz one day, in a few years. 

I want to get home from a full day to someone who is as excited to see me as I will be to see them. 

I already know what I would call him. It’s the name my best friend stole from me and gave her cat. She doesn’t know it, but she did give her cat the name I want to give to my future dog. But what are friends for anyway? 

Like I said. I like the simpler things in life. A quiet night in. Socks for a birthday present. 

And as Sean Kingston plays and I wrap up all these lies and illusions I have been telling myself and having all week, have an amazing Valentines, whether you are spending it by yourself or with the ones you hold dear.

Millennial Boychild Doomsday(Part 2)

This past week I have been approached endlessly by the boys who read the first part of this piece, saying that I was only writing about what the girls thought of the situation. Now I tried to convince them that I needed more insight into what their side thought, so I could also tell that side of this story, before I also get accused of belittling the boychild. 

Boys claim to not be able to express themselves. That girls can talk about their issues without being judged by anyone, but once a male child starts saying what bugs him, he is shown contempt and asked to keep to himself. But I have lived with boys, and I don’t know much about other households, but in mine, equal opportunities are to all. 

I have not heard a time when my brother was asked to not speak his mind and this makes me an avid believer that both genders should be allowed to speak out. 

So boys, if you feel like someone will judge you when you ask for an ear to listen to your problems, I am here. Find me, let’s talk and heal together. 

Second, and this was almost unanimous, especially for boys who have younger sisters. Asking for money is hard for guys. I was told that for a girl, all we have to do is phone home and ask for money, and I thought this was the biggest lie of all time. If not, then maybe in my next life I should be a boy, only so I can understand this view. 

It’s not as easy, but they help us girls because we can’t go out to look for that money and still preserve our dignity for you to end up marrying girls with virtue. 

Our parents know that if they refuse to at least have the girl as a priority, it is easy for the family name to get tainted than for the boy who will simply be dusted off and back on the wagon. There were those of you who say that you will treat your boys and girls the same. That you will not let your daughters “misuse” your funds. It’s alright. But remember, I warned you to preserve your girls for the future of your family name, and you chose not to listen. 

There are those guys who are the first generation in their families to go to college instead of driving a tractor. Those who the weight of the success of their families is right on their shoulders and they feel burdened enormously, and then they look at the girl child and see how “easy” it is for her. It really isn’t. 

She has to bear the whistles of your kind and the unflattering remarks when she does not turn because she feels disrespected by the way she is oggled at and then later outwrightly insulted to the amusement of bystanders. 

She has to be strong enough to deal with those of you who undermine her and yet weak enough to have a need for you, because if not, then she is too strong and that can’t be good for your ego. 

She has to watch you have your freedom when she has to preserve herself for when you are ready for her. She deals with your chauvinistic remarks and your sexism yet still looks at your kind for help. 

You might have all these problems (which are not really in dire need if solutions as you claim), and this might only be my point of view, but don’t you see how much she has accomplished? How hard she has fought to get to where she is? 

All you are concerned about, instead, is your stature and how to not let girls stand for themselves. 

I think that the boychild should support each other. 

Create a forum for himself to help his cause. 

Listen to each other, since only you can know what is truly in your hearts. Yes, we know you have hearts, and they get troubled. Talk about it, together, not online. Stop with the comments that are aimed at making the girl child seem like a monster yet so untrue. 

Create awareness about your troubles and concerns. 

Form groups to empower one another. 

Get people to help you with funds to start profitable activities and functions to lift you up. 

If you don’t know how to deal with your situation, since you seem to think it is as bad as the girl child situation was for decades, ask her how she did it, who she looked to for help, and maybe you could learn a thing or two. 

Next time you want to type of how marginalized you are, of how the government focuses more on the girls, or of how much you are becoming an endangered species, remember there was a time that girls were not necessarily taken to school and mothers could kill their newborns when they found that it was not a boy. 

Remember when the girl could not lead her people or speak in public gatherings. When she could not speak her mind and nobody really cared. Then think hard if this is where you are now to call yourself a “sufferer” in these times. 

You are so used to the female being weak that you now feel threatened that she is as strong as you, maybe stronger. 

You settled with the idea that a woman’s place is at home such that when you find her in the office competing for the same job as you or in class doing as good as you, you get afraid of her and resort to try and bring her down. 

How about I let you in on a little secret. The more you try to make her weaker, the more she will encourage herself to soar and the more you will keep complaining without cause. 

Walk with her. Encourage her and she will do even more for you. It’s said that if you give a woman a house she makes it a home. This should motivate you to lift her so she can reach where you are. Deal with your troubles as she did with hers and rise together. Do not burn down then stay in the ashes. Rise. Like the Phoenix. Rise and burn as bright as she is, without trying to put her out. 

For this, karma will thank you. And if you don’t believe in karma, how about you try not diminishing the girl child’s success and sit back. 

What If I Was An Island? 

I made pancakes today.

They were pretty good. It’s weird how with time, I feel like I am getting better at making them.

Yesterday I had an idea of selling them to people. 10 shillings or 15 depending on the size.  That would be an easy way to make some money. Then I could get to buy some things that I know I need in this house.

But then my body is unwilling to move.

I know that I am a very lazy human being. And even if I start making those pancakes to sell, I would eventually stop because maybe I just couldn’t sit up one day. I just lay there all day knowing I would need to be active and make some pancakes, but I will not get up.

I am even more stubborn against myself.

I’ve just finished eating them. My almost 7 year old laptop is right beside me. The chocolate bar I got for my birthday is halfway on it, and a jar of honey is on my right.

I don’t want to do anything, think anything. But my brain is it’s own boss.

What if I was an island?

(Image from Fiji Guide) 

What if I could have water all around me and sit still while people vacationed on me? 

What if the only thing I had to worry about was how hard the ocean waters could hit and how deep I had to let the trees go before they were old enough.

It’s cold.

What if I was an island?

What if all I had to do was sit on my own, with my other island friends a little too far away for a daily hello.

What if I had my own problems, but couldn’t let my island family know because they would be worried and I don’t want that.

I don’t let people around me get too close because I feel like an island. Like nobody could ever understand the many little things that makes me tick.

Like they seem to have it all figured out and all I have figured out is maybe this chocolate bar doesn’t stay here for long.

Sometimes I don’t like being alone. I get lonely. And being alone then has me thinking of when I wasn’t alone. And that makes me try to find someone who wants to pretend to be with me, till my use for them is due then they leave me to be alone once more.

Sometimes I really like being alone. Because then I can rotate my mind around things that don’t really make sense.

So I can dance around my place in my own weird little way and feel, well not normal really, but me. And feel like me.

Sometimes being alone is my happy place. I don’t have to sit upright or listen to conversations that I might not have had to listen to.

I don’t have to hurt my eyes in the sun (I have a condition: myopic something : I don’t really remember the last part, but my eyes hurt in the sun and I have to wear glasses now, plus I am short sighted). So it literally really hurts to go out.

Maybe I am cursed to be inside the house. Maybe I will always feel like an outsider.

Maybe I really am destined to meet people in the comforts of my home. It would be really cool. If I didn’t need to leave my place and go outside to meet people. That there was a way I could sit at home and still have reasonable conversations with reasonable humans and make meaningful relationships.

Sometimes I am too philosophical for my own mind. I should loosen up a little. But how? Dancing around right now feels weird. I am typing with my phone.

My laptop’s problem is that it is old. I think. It shows movies really slow. It does any and all things while buffering every 3 seconds. So I can’t use it for anything but background noise to my thoughts.

I got it from my uncle after he was done with campus and I was starting.

Sometimes I feel like my thoughts are too compact. Like I need to use more sentences in my thinking and delivery of those same thoughts.

Maybe I can find something to watch on the laptop. There is a really cool series I was watching, “The End Of The Fucking World” it’s about this awkward boy and this awkward girl. And they are perfect together.

Today I’ll have a happy to be alone day. I never know it until about 4 hours from when I wake up.

©Awuor

Millennial Boychild Doomsday (Part 1)

I have wanted to write about the “boychild” phenomena for a while now, but I did not know which angle to take. There are so many ways to look at the male scenario in this age. Especially when you can’t possibly have a conversation with about five guys in a day without at least two of them claiming how “boy child anaumia”. 

One time, after such a statement was made to me, I asked what made him say that, and honestly, I did not get a satisfactory answer. All he did was mumble words at random until I opted to change the topic. 

This is why, during the last two weeks, in almost all conversations I held, I have almost always ended up asking for views on this “boychild doomsday” that is upon us. I got responses that could fill a novel series, and this actually motivated me to write this. 

One friend, a female, said that the boys were “triggered” by Cyprian Nyakundi, blogger turned Boychild activist. Cyprian took to twitter in a series of tweets late last year that ignited the spirit of boys everywhere, reminding them of how discriminated and used they are. Since then, everything has ended up being about how the male gender is being stepped on by the female. 

You see a post where a girl was taken out to eat. 

In the pictures that she took with the guy, she put emojis on his face when posting. And the boychild is in a rage! You see a gentleman tying the laces of a girl’s shoes and the almost all male millenials are tweeting and commenting while saying how they are discriminated. 

Here are the type 1 thoughts on this: (most of these responses are from girls, however, some boys also had this type of thought) 

1. Complain without basis

It is believed out here that most of these comments were claiming that the boychild is raging on and complaining without any strong support of the argument. That the boys need to remember there was a time that girls had nothing to hold on to and were not taken to school just to be married at an early age, and it was acceptable. 

2. Exxageration

Some people feel that boys have taken this male empowerment thing a little too far. That they bring up the issue of discrimination even in situations that do not warrant such kind of “empowerment”

3. “Online empowerment ”

Boys tend to fill comments online about how they are being discriminated. That they only go to online sites like twitter and Facebook to add comments and do nothing else to help their case. That they should grow a pair and that if, their arguments that they are being undermined are substantial, they should do something to empower themselves. Not to only go online, leave a comment under a “Boychild Injustice” post and leave it at that. 

In general, this group of people says that if the boys truly believe that there is a problem, then they should stand up for themselves. Because otherwise, all we see is comments online and hear you cry endlessly without any affirmative action against said undermining. 

“Boy child haumii; anataka tu kubembelezwa” Agnes Nyambura

Stabbed Students, Robbed Citizens

If you have not heard of this already, here are the facts. 

1. 35 students from Jamhuri High School in Ngara, Nairobi ,were injured using knives they had last night in an overnight confrontation. 

2. Four students are admitted at the Kenyatta National Hospital and one with stab wounds was admitted at Guru Nanak

3. The main reason for this is an allegation that there is religious discrimination in the school by the school head. 

4. Nairobi Police are carrying out investigations 

There are various reactions on social media about this. 

Now, there are a few concerns with this matter. 

Why would there be religious discrimination in a school that has proven to be comfortable with all religion, particularly Muslim and Christianity? 

Why would the school head, who is supposed to maintain unity and be a symbol of stability allegedly favor one religion compared to another? 

How were students between the ages of 13 and 18 be able to get knives to use against their peers? Are they allowed to bring knives to school? Were the knives made available to the students? 

How could students attack each other overnight and later in the morning without any authorities being involved? Aren’t there security measures in these schools? 

There are so many questions that arise with this unfortunate incident, together with the insecurity issue in Nairobi’s CBD at the moment, where a gang is said to rob people in broad daylight. 

In this, the gang of 10 or so is situated in various places, the information is found on this spreading Whatsapp message. 

The gang attacks unsuspecting individuals and rob them of their belongings.

Hopefully, the required authorities will get to deal with these issues before they become a nationwide matter. 

©Awuor

TWO REASONS 

I have always wanted to write about you 

Tonight I think I’ll come up with two

Two reasons to why I wake up

Two reasons that bring me back 

The first has to be those eyes

To wake and be bathed in their glory

The last has to be that skin

To sleep after touching the heavens

©Awuor

PLETHORIC THOUGHTS

Do you know what I think about? 

As an introverted insomniac? 

Sometimes I myself can’t tell

But the few times I have 

I still thought of being alone 

Of food, deliciously tasty

Of strangers that will become friends 

And friends that are now strangers

I build so many castles in the air Disney should hire me

Then I think of war

And of strands of hair

Of innocent little beings

And of weather so cold it causes frost bite

I think of nothing and all things

And I don’t know when or how I think it all

©Awuor

A Poisoned Family 

We were given an anecdote in class today. The lecturer told us of a typical family that is served food everyday by the same house help. One evening, the said house help purposely poisoned the family’s supper, and everyone got sick and was rushed to hospital. Luckily, the effects were not severe and they all got treated and were back home to go on with their lives. 

On getting back, the wife wanted to let the help go but the husband was reluctant. His excuse: The wife has had a number of house helps prior to this one and keeps letting them go. The husband claimed he was good enough to let all the previous ones go but “Not this time” he said. The wife was clearly going out of her way to put all their house helps out of work. Plus… He continued, where would they get a house help who understood the kids and knew exactly what to do without being told? 

Now, if you have heard this story before, good for you. If not, it’s still okay. If you were in my class and you heard the story differently, yes, I changed bits of it, but still kept the main theme going. 

The challenge here is, there is an intermediary that handles a very significant factor in the family, and one part is ready to fix it, but the other remains reluctant in choosing what is best for the family. 

All in all, let us hope that the family will still be united in the end. Because if not, trouble within any family is never good. Dirty laundry may start getting aired out. 

PS. Understand at your own will. 

SCHUDDER’S LESSON

There is this piece, by Samuel Schudder. “Take This Fish And Look At It”. I read it in class last semester and it did seem farmiliar, but I just could not place it. A few days ago, however, before I wrote “Looking At The Drapes”  I remembered where I had first seen it. I was thirteen years old, and in my final year in primary school. The head mistress had called me to her office, and as I waited on her, I saw it on a seat placed outside her office. 

The reason I recall this particular piece is because of a number of things. The story itself is one. It tells of a young man studying to be a scientist. He goes to this class and the professor basically gives him a fish specimen in a jar. Over time, the professor asks what the young man saw while looking at the fish, and every time, the student, though struggling, manages to come up with an observation. He tries so hard to look at it that at one point he draws the fish down on paper. 

Schudder’s article reminds me of a number of things. Persistence in our endeavors, hard work, humility, love for what we do, together with lots and lots of patience. These are things that we often forget as we go on with life. At least I know that at one point I get too lazy to see something through and this piece is actually more for me than for you. It is to remind me that no matter what, we need to get up, dust ourselves off and take one more step. One more look at the fish, because you do not know what you might just learn unless you look more closely. 

JULIA’S LETTER 003

Hello Jesse

I am going to phrase my disappointment in as few words as possible. I am amazed with you. I would never have thought that you could sink to levels of being that petty. 

Yes, I know I was not the best or easiest person to be with, but considering you professed your love for me on that bridge by the botanical garden, I thought I meant something to you. But your letter, long as it was, proves to me how much regard you had for me. 

I am sorry if it was me that drove you to such an unmanly state. Truly, I am. 

I am so disappointed by you. You blame it all on me. As if you didn’t take part in anything. But Jesse, it’s alright. I accept the blame. If only to stop you from becoming the child you are forming yourself into.

I am sorry about my first letter. I know I started us off down this journey. I just did not realize how much it would change you. How much you would become so engrossed in pointing fingers that you would shift all the blame. Forgive me Jesse. 

I do miss you. But not the you that is portrayed in your previous letter. I miss the real you. The Jesse that would hold my hand and look into my eyes to understand my soul. So yes, you were right. I miss you. But not the being that you have become.

And I promised this would be short. So, goodbye my love, whichever tiny bit of you that has remained.

Love, 

Julia.