I used to believe in love. In two hearts becoming one To hold and to have I used to believe in together as one I use past tense because my reality took a shaking I was robbed of what I held dear I stopped believing My heart filled with fear I am afraid To hurt so bad once more To touch pain with my fingertips To shake again to my core I used to believe in love But the makings of today’s love is deceit Lies to honest hearts and knives to trusting backs I still believe in love.
For Lilly, life was as simple as life came. Eat, breathe, sleep. For her, life was routine. She was an average student. She attended church every Sunday because it was what her family did. She did what was required of her under her parents’ roof and there were no complaints. She had three meals a day and socks on her feet. Life was modest. Life equaled eat, breathe, sleep. Lilly took her KCPE in 2008, scored a total of 361 marks and got admitted to Kipsigis Girls High School. She found herself in the strange land of mursik drinking girls …
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There are people who smell like money. People whose price of cologne alone could feed a small village for two days straight. These people have a spring to their step because they know for a fact that their families will never have to worry financially for generations that don’t even have names yet. People who breathe money. They sit and their bank accounts talk for them. They don’t have to do anything, say anything, because they are loaded beyond one’s own imagination. They can hire people to wipe their butts if they so wish. These are also people you never …
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At 7, you were probably still riding your bike with the training wheels on. At 7 you hold a grudge for 4 minutes and forget about it. You have a favorite princess dress that you will wear any chance people are going out and at 7, a football was your best friend. At age 7, Julian Wagumba was returned to the gates of Nairobi’s New Life Children Center. He doesn’t remember much about this specific time other than the cologne of his then ex-foster father, a smell that follows him till today. He remembers a call from a social worker …
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Alcoholism is a disease. It is characterized by drinking uncontrollably and being preoccupied with alcohol. Everyone I ask about it quickly becomes a child caught stealing sugar from the sugar tin. Talking of they can control their intake, as if their throats come with an alcohol meter and an alarm that goes off “Out of control, Sir. The intake is out of our control”. People who accept the fact that they have the disease seek the help of Alcoholics Anonymous, or, as was the case of Jackson Biko’s Drunk, are forced to go to rehab after dire and life-changing circumstances. …
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I need to know one thing Before you lay to rest tonight I need to know who you are Who are you when I’m not looking? Do you close your eyes on a messy bed Are you turned on by the color red Are you also a man on the wire Or do your principles keep you from the shire Have you felt a divine kind of emotion Do you fall on a couch with caution Who are you when I’m not as around? Is your coffee white or as dark as my heart Do you own a dog or …
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I had something in my bed. Disclaimer: There is no concealed meaning to this. Something means something and “in my bed” literally means just that. Heck, this may end up being a ramble and you may not like it as much… Before we begin, no, it was not a boy (ha-ha, who would want this mess?). But I really did have this thing in my bed a few weeks ago. And yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I write about it on the morning it happened? Because I don’t tell you guys everything about me Nosey Shirley. And …
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For the love of food, I think Hashalla just cracked “mashakura”. Definitely trying this
I have never been on a boat. Never floated on an ocean. I never even learnt how to swim. Until I was in high school, the only swimmable water I ever got in to, and I use “swimmable” loosely, is the River Awach in the hills of Seme. This might be the cause of the shortness of my breath and my sweaty palms when I first stared into the deep end of a swimming pool. I don’t understand floating. Maybe because I can’t do it for more than 4 seconds before imagining clawed hands reaching up for me. Water was …
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Writing is not easy. You have to be creative and funny and coherent and weird and unique, all at the same time. There is a whole unwritten list of things to do and have and be before you even sit behind a computer to write. Then you have to think of where to begin the story from. Starting a story from its conception to its termination is also not allowed. I mean, you can do it…but people get tired of reading the same goddamn thing all the time. You also get tired of always starting from when someone was born …
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It’s been a couple of years since high school. Well, not a couple…few, maybe? A couple sounds like a number you don’t want to disclose…plus, I’ve been told ladies do not disclose their age and I might actually consider myself a lady, so to speak. I am also aware that immediately I state the year I left high school, ye undiscovered math geniuses will resort to work finding x. but I am not old, except for the aged woman who lives inside me and gives me constant insight on how to live my life, among other things. Ah, just know, …
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