Aaaaaawwww!!! Babe I celebrate you



Indispensable impeccable invaluable jewel, you are babe! Can’t believe I have you around me for life. Babe, every day is a celebration day for me, for you have imbued my life with happiness, value, completeness, fun and security. You are my perfect company. In a few lines, babe, I celebrate you.

Every day, I celebrate you in our humble abode, but today with my household I want to make it public, how much you mean to me. This is a great day, honorary and special. Before it was a normal day in the calendar but meeting you made this day stand out.

A day like this, same month last year, was when you attracted me to you babe. Everything gave me no reason why I should not go with you. Your beauty, your sheen, your feel, your scent, your posture, your composure, just your general outlook, completely swallowed me into you. My first gaze at you, I didn’t know that, that would be the start of our great friendship honey. And indeed you have been. I feel, it took my enemies by surprise otherwise they would have done anything in their power to prevent us from meeting. It’s something worth someone investment of jealousy.

That fateful day when we met, I would love to share with everyone how unexpected, the whole thing of us meeting, was. It started as boring as any day; that one had to wrestle with lectures from the rising of the sun to the setting time of it. It was on a Saturday, right babe? Yeah and being on a Saturday, for some of us it is an official permit to wake up anytime of the day. Whether the previous day you slept as early as 7pm or as late as midnight after watching a series of movies, or simply because you went out for a dunda that doesn’t count. So don’t even inquire to know what I did the previous night that orchestrated my waking up late. I woke up when the sun rays were already hot to a discomfit of anyone who would have wanted to busk. It was nearly midday.

With all the tiredness engrossed in me, I felt like going back to my mother’s womb and refuse to come out, when I remembered I had a three week laundry to do. What! That’s torture, right? We shall talk about that later. The birds that always brighten up my morning, with their mellifluous voices, were also long gone. It was I, with my bunches of dirty clothes, not forgetting a lump of utensils piled up in my sink, after a previous night jamboree with my girlfyz at my place, who walked away without caring who will do their messes. Now everything is mercilessly looking up to me to do their cleaning.

Oh no! What a bad day for me? I thought. I always glory when I’m done with the torture of cleaning, for I know that will again come back after three weeks. Don’t be surprised. Doing a thorough cleaning after three weeks has always been my best choice. It’s economical. I get tired once, I get to touch the cold water once, I get to destroy my pedicure and manicure once, my back doesn’t get to be bent often, (unless I want to grow old fast enough), I use the detergents once and economically, and most importantly, doing my laundry has helped me curtail gossip with my fellow women in the plot. Washing time is always the gossip time for any woman, especially those who have no reason to go to the salon where real gossip is; may be because they have short kinky hair like mine.

Oh yes, so that perfect day, with groaning and mutterings, I finally finished the clothes, which to speak less, filled our whole compound with various colours of course. Again trying to be the perfect daughter that my mother once tried to raise back in the village, I went over to the sink and cleared the dishes and did some various necessities there too. Babe that’s how tiresome and abhorring the day started.

All in all as we have talked and inspired me, I did complete all the duties and even went for my own ablutions which took almost an hour. An hour? Yeah. It’s Saturday.

Done with the cleaning I sat down at my veranda, which was so cool for my haunches, wondering what I would do next. Treat my palms, nails and feet which were all sow with hard work, then? Watch a movie, then? Check how many likes I got in the previous photo I posted on Facebook, then? Call my crush for an hour or so, then? I was simply planning the evening. Of course for a lady like me, you don’t expect to find her seated cradled in a corner with nothing to do.

After much arranging, disarranging, rearranging, a weird thought crossed my mind. Taking a stroll in town? It’s weird, for who does that, with piles of literature assignments still pending to be done? Anyway, we the impossible, can easily do that. Just a thought of hanging around the supermarkets, (could be talking of malls, but forgive us, that’s what we have around this place, we know ourselves) made me to jump on my feet. Quickly took the sugarless coffee I had prepared because I had even forgotten to buy sugar the previous day and as jaded as I was, couldn’t go back to the shops that were just outside the gate and get it. Anyway the tiredness had to go at the thought of strolling in town.

And that’s how I found myself, as late as 6 pm, strolling from one supermarket to another. I should have been hovering around boutiques, best lady shops, pedicure and manicure stalls etc., right? But no, I was in the supers. Apart from not wanting to look laddish, as I think being around these places make one to be so, I also wished to escape back to my abode with free commodities. Have just told you my sugar back in the house had depleted. Not getting free things because of stealing, a lady like me, doesn’t steal, free commodities, because some pot bellies would like my smile and thus end up with a trolley full of things that I didn’t work hard for. Haha, I love me. Now in the laddish places, where would I get such people from?

But it was so unfortunate, that day seemed like the hard work back at home, made my smile to wan, for no one even said a hi. I was in the final supermarket. Of course I kept it final because to me anyone doing their shopping at this place, they must be of good money. Check-check by the soldiers and I was in. I had 25/= in my pockets by the way. Nevertheless my cladding that evening, didn’t look like I had such little amounts. Plus I didn’t carry with the intention of buying anything with it, I’m a Kenyan, babe, Kenyans can’t miss coins in their pockets, with this statement to back up the art; na nikikanyaga nyanya za wenyewe…

I went over to the decor corner, where I normally take my décor materials. I’m a guru of decor, right babe? Now I don’t want to be termed as vainglorious, let me leave it at that. Plus my old man, always says; kizuri chajitembeza, kibaya chajiuza.  After checking various latest flowers, ribbons and other arts, I decided to go to the deodorants corner. I was passing by, almost crossing over the other side, when something caught my attention. A wink, from a corner froze me on the spot.

Babe who does that? Your splendor rooted me to the ground. You stood right there at the corner with a certain completeness, perfection, in a certain fashion and design that I had not met before. A chill ran down my spine. You rendered me numb. You astounded me. What a perfect creation! I thought as goose bumps covered my whole body. Someone would have wondered what I was doing staring at a stationery shelf, especially when they knew that my stationery store back at my home was full, lacking nothing. But nothing but you babe, caught my gaze.

Your mellow maroon velvet outfit, with white dots bustled me to where you were. I don’t know what happened when I reached your spot, because when I came to my senses after a woman pushing her trolley around accidentally hit me, I found myself totally lost into you, filling your awesome embrace on my chest. You are tactile.

Though in imbroglio, I couldn’t part from you without a kiss on your forehead. It was love at the first sight. You took me by surprise, I didn’t know that my evening would end in such a quite amazing way. And ever since that day, you have forever been a dazzling creation in my sight. I thought that your beauty is only external, but no I was wrong, you are beautiful even at heart. You have come into my life and I can say you have been the best companion ever. An amazing friend, that forever I appreciate to walk around with, hand in hand. To confirm that truth, for the one year babe, we have stayed together so far, I don’t think if I have ever left you behind.

We have been to forums, to seminars, to concerts, to outings, to camps, to tours, with you. In you I have confined my fears, my doubts, my secrets, my joy, my love, my anxiety. I have shared with you my ambitions, my goals, my dreams, as weird as they are, as crude as they are, as encouraging as they are, and faithfully you have listened to me and reasoned with me. You know my schedules from morning to evening. You know all the places have grown attached to. You know all the people I love and cherish in my life.

My sweet diary, is it offensive or an illusion to call you my babe, my love? You are a friend, more than a friend. A trust worthy friend. The moment I saw you amidst the other dusty books and notebooks, I knew it would be so dolt of me to leave you. Your beauty, and the significance I thought you would bring to my life, was enough to make me pick you dear. Parting ways with the few thousands I had saved so I could surprise my landlord that month by paying my rent almost the first one, and not the usual last, was not a big deal. I needed no one to cajole me into taking you with me.

Sweet diary, my love and comfort, I love and cherish you. Happy birthday to you!!!

How much do you love your diary?





As visible as the stars amidst darkness are, so is the woman. In a crowd of people, no matter how great the crowd is, the woman will not miss to be seen. We take pride in that and give ourselves the credit. Why we are notable, among many things, is our beauty. For that we give credit to our creator. The beauty and the sterling shape of the star, is what makes the star to stand out in the universe and thus admired by many. It is what it is, that people have fallen in love with.

My attractive fluffy curvy, or hard iron straight body figure, my beautiful long black silky or short kinky hair, my long creased or short straight neck, my smooth flawless or rough bumpy skin, my impeccable hard to find natural dark or cheap self-imposed light complexion, my well carefully arranged or haphazardly effortlessly planted facial features, my expensive pure gold or cheap gold-coated jewellery, my body-hugging or lose body-detached outfit, and of course, my left to right walking style, orchestrated by the new pair of Japanese shoes or my stiff walking style beckoned with the cheap worn out Gikomba shoes, have all come together to make me. To give me the outstanding beauty, constructed for me the place that I stand on today, my womanhood. Forever I’ll be grateful of. However, what is supposed to give me pleasure has turned out to be my source of discomfort. The very things that I find to be natural to me, as they are part of my life style, are the very things that are sending me to the pit of hell and distress. Who is doing this to me? Who else but you and your accomplices.

Yes we do admire the little star in the sky, its beauty is what has been attracting our gaze, but do we settle in its beauty alone? No, we embrace and say thanks to its contribution of light to us. Why then are people focusing on what was simply attached to me, other than my impeccable contribution to the society? Why is it that all that matters is my appearance rather than myself? I walk through the streets, I enter offices and the only thing that is first scrutinised of me is my appearance. Like that is all I am. How is her hair? Where did she buy that dress from? Couldn’t she put on a blue shoe instead? Her artificial nails are cool, she has a taste. Well, I think that dress reveals too much of her love-handles – I would never put on that!

Both positive and negative compliments of me run through their minds as I continue delivering my content. Has what I have or carry around already not become normal? I thought it is normal for a woman to have the figure that your eyes constantly feast on. Isn’t it expected of her to have all the jewellery on her body? Is it abnormal of her to put on any kind of dress she wants? Is it not normal for her to have her hair as long or short as she wants it to be, or put on the colours that she prefers? I find it so abhorring to meet a person whose vision begins and ends on the shape of a woman’s body. I find it offensive when a conversation begins with the face and ends with the behind, as she walks away. This is what I would call barbarism. Analysing what I’m externally of, I feel takes us back as a people.

Can any stand up, can there be found a man, in this society that can look at a woman and go beyond her external appearance? A man that will go past seeing my well styled hair to see my brain that is carrying much, much that is useful in edifying the society. Can a man who will go beyond my cleavage and see my heart felt good wishes for the society still be found? Someone who will overlook, without missing, the colour of my eyes and see the vision I have for the society, the 2030 vision of our nation. One that will ignore the length of my nails and their shape and instead focus on what I’m doing in my own space to transform the society. Someone who will not die to reach out to my lips and place his own there, but instead listen attentively to what I’m saying.  Someone who will not be keen in analysing my walking steps whether I’m rightly swinging my ass or not, but instead check the purpose of my day in day out going out and coming in.

Together we can better our society, demolish the structures that are there to pull us back. United we can construct a new foundation upon which we shall erect beliefs that can better cater for the needs of everyone without intimidating anyone. I’m a woman, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m an object of stare. Within me I carry love and care for the nation, no better than your own, no worse, tap into it and we will see the groans, and hear the tears that are ongoing in the world cease. Within me I have a vision for a developed society, see it and help me bring it into reality. See the hard work of my hands, chip in and bring the project into accomplishment. Within me there is a mission and a goal, It is not etched on my skin, but, oh, believe me, it is as real as the very beating of my own heart, as alive as the beat of your own. Can we, together, work towards that shared vision of a better world?

Why then are we passed as objects of transaction? To attend your parties to be paraded. Why then is femininity the point of reference in our interactions? We are passed being public figures here and there to entertain your vision. There are better things to look at in me!

Street HELL preachers, a break please?


Isn’t it becoming too much? I think it is. Haven’t these people been on our throats for long already?

I’m not an atheist, no in fact I’m a staunch Christian. Hahah, I don’t know which scale anyway people use to rate the ‘staunchness’. Anyway I’m a strong believer, I’m a follower of Christ with no apology. I thought I would affirm this before I go on.

Atheists and my brothers and sisters from the other religions, you can stay aside for a while, there is a group of people I want to reason with. We are good? Okay. Thanks

My traveling times are the best times for me to meditate. It always does me good, watching the trees and whatever is on the road side, quickly vanishing behind me as the vehicle speeds on. On this particular day I had just closed a certain important deal, again with a very honorary person and so I was in the highest heaven, silently pouring many thanks to the Almighty.

A certain man well-dressed, according to him though, in a black broken suit, entered the matatu and sat beside me. In his hands he had a small luggage, I didn’t know what it was until when he cleared his throat and called all our attention to him.

“Sasa mabibi na mabwana, ningependa tuangazie neno la Mungu kwa muda kidogo tu,” his strong corrosive voice filled the small remaining space in the mat, after much of it had already been occupied by the piles of people in the old rusty matatu, that seemed to survive only by the oath that its manufacturer made when it was being released from the industry; that it will serve its purpose. I felt a bit disturbed, as I have told you, but again I held back my heart from feeling offended, as my Sunday school teacher many years back, had taught me never to get offended, when the word of God is being read out. So I put away every thought and gave him my attention.

He slowly opened his Swahili bible which he held so dearly to him, opening it with all caution, one could think it had hidden marijuana inside it and so the poor guy was simply trying not to spill the contents.  Were it not for the rain that was heavily pouring, I would have told the conductor to drop me off and board another vehicle. Through the whole 20 km journey, the guy was talking to us about how hell is? Was he trying to terrify us or?

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Are you pumping fear into us or faithfully shepherding the sheep that Jesus handed over to you? Is this the good news we are to hear on the roads and in streets? It seems like these guys are assuming that we are a bunch of sinners who do not know what hell is. To make it worse the guy is trying to show that the hell message is what is supposed to be preached in churches, like we are being deceived by the prosperity gospel? Yes we are being ‘deceived’ but at least they are encouraging us to enjoy life. Where is the unconditional love of Christ? John 3:16

Aren’t we supposed to enjoy life, not supposed to live our lives and instead cradle ourselves in corners, everyday crying and repenting as we meditate on how fierce hell is? Oh please! I thought Jesus came to give us life and life in abundance (John 10:10)? I thought Jesus came to give us freedom (Galatians, 5:1)? I thought Jesus is on the throne, with so much love looking at us, and wishing us good every day? I thought Jesus didn’t come to pump fear into our veins, as a way of wanting us not to go to hell and instead go to Him? I thought He gave us enough grace to live as His sons and daughters? I thought we don’t gain righteousness by works but by faith (Romans 3:22)? I thought Jesus calls me His righteousness (2nd Cor 5:21)? I thought He is a merciful judge John 8:11and thus always guiding me to the right way without eagerness of condemning me?

Have I cruelly attacked them? I know, but again I’m not sorry.

Jehanamu inawaka moto mara Zaidi ya vile unavyojua mpendwa…

Mpendwa unavyoishi unaajichagulia kwenye utaenda…

Jehanamu ni mbaya mpendwa…

Mbona unapenda raha za dunia…

Can we get new preachers?

Now listen to this, they are telling us sexual immorality isn’t godly, that’s true. They are telling me robbery isn’t good, that’s true. They are telling me taking drugs is also unforgivable, yes again that’s true. But do they think that by threatening me how fierce hell is, they are helping me out of the situation? By telling me how painful God’s punishment is, are they helping me to stop masturbating? On the contrary, I think they are furnacing my immorality.

Do they know that while we are doing those things, that we are aware that they are forbidden? That we are aware that abortion is evil, but we are still doing it? We have been chased by the moral judges everywhere and yet we are not even close to abandoning it, and now they come with the hell message? Even as we are eating the forbidden fruits, we are lucid. As we do the unthinkable acts, our consciences condemn us, we want to abandon all this but we just can’t. We take few puffs of bhang today, and we say tomorrow we aren’t going to do it but again we find ourselves at it.

Do you know what can help us? It’s another thing given us, that can substitute the pleasure that we get from all these immoral acts. Only love and confidence and positive attitudes towards us can help us. Will somebody appear in the streets and preach and teach just as Jesus would? Teaching us about what Jesus is saying. Telling me how He perceives me as He sits on the throne? Telling me about the internal inheritance which the merciful King, is holding for me? Connecting me with that person I was created from. The bible in Ephesians 2:10 affirms that I’m God’s workmanship created in Christ Jesus, God’s workmanship, created to do good works! Even God isn’t concentrating in the hell bit, He is after me doing the purpose He created me for. Ama niaje?

I don’t forbid the hell message from being preached, but the way it has been exaggerated, makes me feel that, we are to sit down in corners, not moving to the left or right, not talking, not greeting anyone, covered from head to toe, for fear of hell.

We have tarnished the image of a Christian, the worshiper God was looking for. Can we review our messages please? Can we get back to what the real apostles were teaching, Paul, Peter, and the rest?

We are aware what hell is, but up until then, when we are to meet these two unspeakable places, what better thing can we do other than meditating on how hell is?

Haha, hell preachers buy me coffee when we meet.


What is it that you want me to see in you?


Have you ever been in a situation as this, where you were so eager to hear from someone, who made you believe they have something good for your ears, only for you to remain dumb after the whole thing, trying to decipher what really was the point of it all?

Much worse is when a prominent person, or someone whom you have put much respect and trust in, acts in a way that causes you discomfit. You feel like detaching yourself from them and yet you can’t or may be you can. But why should that person cause you that much trouble to a point of wanting to run away from them?

Yayee! It feels bad. I don’t know what kind of people normally exasperate you, but i think you can identify with this question, which I pose to those who made me put their trust in and yet they aren’t acting responsibly.

Really what is it that you want me to see? I even feel our young siblings and children asking the same question. l imagine a kid who has been taught in Sunday school that their elders are  their role models, coming back home, finds their very own guardians quarreling, fighting, hailing insults to each another; really what is it that you want me to see in you? I gain see the society, with crossed legs, seated on a stool, asking the same question to a fine young lady, posing this way and that way in pictures that are all over the social media, showing her valuables;  what is it that you want me to see in you, daughter? Look at this also; an informant seated behind their cosy chair, ready to surf the net for important information, a notification pops up that they have a new post. Closing what they are doing, with eagerness they go through it, only to regret why they had left their work at the first place; what really does this person want me to learn or get from this? What about a congregation seated tactfully in the hall, full of expectation to meet their maker, only for the preacher to appear with their own drama of oh this oh that. Really what do you want me to see or get from you? Or a man of age, a leader of a family, a supposed leader in the society,  appears less than they are expected.

Oh it really irks. So dear friend, when we blog or  tweet or post on Facebook or when we do all what we are doing, what are we trying to show people or what are we telling them? What do we want them to see? It’s called the place of purpose. What do we have in mind for the reader? What are we trying to achieve in their minds? My friend Shalala Carol, (Shalala creations) has shared a post regarding the followers in Instagram, I love what she said. Getting followers in whatever platform you have, comes with a responsibility . The followers aren’t some kind of a bunch of lost poor surviving sheep, sitting round your table, receiving all kind of trash you throw to them. No, they are people hungry of knowledge, hungry of hope, aspiring to hear words of wisdom from you!

The other day a friend of mine called me an utilitarian, after I had asked what criterion he uses in choosing his reads. I mean why do you tell me to read a book without telling me it’s purpose? If it’s for fun tell me, if it addresses a certain issue tell me. You don’t just shove something my way and gladly expect me to take it…Lack of purpose is an issue that cuts both sides, the doer and the receiver. The receiver’s head will ache trying to demystify the purpose of all your drama as well as the doer’s heart will ache with expectation as they wait for the receiver’s feedback.

I’m entering my inner room to search me in me, to search and make clear my reasoning. Do you mind joining me? Before I continue filling my publishers’ office with manuscripts that have no direction, that aren’t building my society, that aren’t laying down any foundations for the future generations, for my offspring, allow me do soul searching.

To whoever is given much, much is expected from them.  With these platforms, we meet people both innocent and knowledgeable. What are we telling them? Is what we are doing, edifying them? Is it building them? Or we are simply filling their heads with our thoughtless thoughts and insights? Can we you use them for the betterment of the society and stop using them for some other unthinkable despicable purposes?

Will we next time have our audiences in mind while we make the posts? We have what it takes to change our society, only if we think a little harder. The best place, the strongest foundation that we can use to build our success, is purpose. Purpose is the only surest flight, trusted in taking someone from one place to another one of choice. We either have purpose or not.