Rain 1.0

I love the rain How the drops sound on iron sheets How my body feels in my sheets I love the smell of the first drops hitting the soil And the sound of roaring thunder like it hits foil And as it grows colder outside My heart fills and bursts like riverbeds ©mirawu

My Mama Mboga and I

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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20-somethings without kids

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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David’s Demons

After their wedding, David’s new father-in-law paid for his Diploma in Management. He left his wife just 2 days into their new lives knowing it would all be worth it. He studied the same way he won her heart. For her. For his angel. He did odd jobs to support himself in school and sent money back home to Sylvia. It is what a man would do, and David was a real man. He said he never looked at any other women when I asked. Sylvia is his soulmate. She saved all the envelops that came to her from Nairobi …
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David’s Angel

Somewhere between the confines of the blue mesh and the white walls of Mathare was where Dave Kalalei Junior learnt to accept his fate. Going in, he had sworn to never let the crazy people doctors anywhere near his head. He was alright. He was of perfect health. In fact, his father was the one who should have walked through those gates. His father, David Kalalei Sr is one tough cookie. He was raised in Baringo county, where I assume he literally had to cross rivers, fight crocodiles and brave storms just to get to school. He actually raised himself..I …
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Modern Day Musketeers

Don’t you just hate exams? It’s like the teachers don’t believe in themselves, right? There thinking testing us is the only way to validate themselves. Constantly not believing in us and that we really went to class and concentrated the whole time. Minus the few times we looked into our phones or just didn’t go to the class, because there are some of those classes that we just have to purposely miss. Every semester they give us exams to test us, rather than teaching us those exact things that they test for. Like 10 questions are the scale to know …
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Jacked Up Stranger: The Test

Growing up without the guts to punch people who piss you off in the face is cowardly, yes, but also kind of interesting. I know because I lived it. Barely being able to tell people who did you wrong that they had. What I did instead is probably the most cowardly thing you have ever heard of. I would write. Write down what they did to make my chest burn. I would sit down and describe, in gruesome detail, what they made me feel. Pages filled with words describing how I felt when I was facing adolescence filled my notebooks. …
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Delusions of Grandeur

Isn’t social media a crazy place? A mess of the wealthy and the wealthy wanna-bes, the high schoolers and the campus-ers, the odis and the classy all mixed together in one gigantic cauldron. Everyone has forgotten those terrible blurry selfies with the ridiculous poses and just as bad captions. I recall a time when we identified our accounts on Facebook (because Facebook was all we had) by our profile pictures. “Nilikutumia friend request na hukuaccept,” a classmate would say 2 weeks into a new term. “Who? Me? No you didn’t. What account did you send it to?” “Si wewe ndiyo …
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The Afghan Hound

She hasn’t texted. It feels like I have so much unfinished business concerning her. The Jacked Up Stranger chick. Link to it if you are among the few who know not what I am talking about is this: https://notyetadults.wordpress.com/2018/07/13/jacked-up-stranger-the-meet/ Is it right calling ladies chicks? Sometimes people remove the ‘k’ to make it more bearable. But doesn’t that only serve the purpose of enhancing the effect of the word? But this is not a morality piece. This is about she who has not texted. It sucks, being blue-ticked all this time. I posted the first post about her thinking that …
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Being An Introvert.

First things first. Coast was amazing and hot and beautiful and chaotic and did I mention hot? It was so hot I seriously considered sleeping outside on a mkeka and being a Nakuru person, that is saying a lot. There was so much to see and do and complain about and enjoy and have a bus full of students lost in its industrial area. It was actually my first time there and I have never been happier to lose the v-card as I am at the moment. If you haven’t caught on yet, I am trying to say that I …
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Jacked Up Stranger: The Meet

Sitting in a matatu has to be the most stressful thing of this lifetime. I’m not only talking about finding the perfect seat. It begins with the matatu itself. It needs certain levels of perfection that need to be quickly assessed. Are the seats well spaced or will I reach my destination with cramped feet? Does it look roadworthy or will it disrupt your schedule by breaking down somewhere in no man’s land where you can’t get another means of transportation? This assessment is done in the three seconds you have as the matatu glides magestically past. One wrong move …
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