I had a glass table once. I smashed it to pieces with a cup full of tea.

For a long time, I struggled with anger that would strike like a thunderclap headache. I lost many cups and plates to these fits of anger. But the day I lost the table is the day I knew horse-manure had hit the fan. Something had to give.

I searched for outlets. I joined a women’s study in the church, Wisdom for Mothers. This study exposed my heart and helped me grow. But it also gave me wonderful women who became my closest confidants. There’s very little I can’t tell this crazy bunch of wonderful women.

Before the anger outbursts, I had grown increasingly uncomfortable in my ‘situation’. I was a stay at home mom. Each day when Mr K went to work, I was left feeling like I made the wrong choice. Like all I’ll ever be is “Mom.”

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He lies on the cold Sao Paulo ground in the park outside the cathedral. It’s cold. I’m used to the sweltering heat in Mombasa, anything below 25 degrees is cold for me. But I’m told it’s summer here. These people have not seen the summer, I muse.

He has a blanket. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look very dirty. My host, a catholic seminarian informs me that they are supplied with blankets and food by well-meaning Brazilians. Mostly Christians because they somehow see the face of Jesus on those once clean and handsome faces.

He’s not alone, but I note with interest that most of his ‘roommates’ are men.

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fresh fri8

She emailed and said this was the kind of conversation that required a quiet corner in Java at 11 AM. Apparently, there are not many people there at such a time. She can speak without straining to not whisper, and I can tell you she whispers like a cat that saw a dog.

You don’t want to be hiding with this one in any situation. She can’t whisper to save her life.

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How to survive the baby witching hour


When my baby was younger, I experienced something ‘strange’. Every day, at around 6 pm, she would start fussing. She’d just get restless and cry herself hoarse.

Unknown to me, what we were experiencing is called the witching hour.

The witching hour was like a hangnail. It drained all life and joy out of my first days of motherhood. I often was on the brink of tears. Exhausted like a donkey in Mwea.

At those time I felt like auctioning her off to the highest bidder. But I was sure none of you wanted a screaming beauty.

So we braved on. Everyday. It was like waiting to visit the dentist. You know what’s coming and you can’t prevent it.  I got so used to it that I didn’t even notice when it stopped. But I dreaded it!

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I’m a good girl by the basic standards. No, allow me to just say it this one time. I’m a good girl. I’ve never been drunk (does wine count?),  never smoked (not even weed) and never did the walk of shame.  I was proud of it all. Until I was not so proud of it.

Josh Harris is no longer a Christian. And he’s getting a divorce. I don’t know if you understand the weight of those two statements, but I can make it simpler. It’s like saying the pope is no longer catholic and he’s getting married. Although that wouldn’t be so bad.

It feels like my whole youth life was a lie. If you’re still using a yahoo email account, Josh Harris is (was) a pastor and an author. He wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Boy Meets Girl.  For a Christian girl who believed Sidney Sheldon was evil and never read Mills and Boons, Josh Harris was my dating and sexuality compass.

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Stupidity and virginity

stock-photo-yolo-road-sign-you-only-live-once-concept-556147753.jpgYesterday, someone called me ‘old’.

I know him from my University days. There we were talking about children and spouses and the forgetfulness that comes with being a parent. And then it just hit us like bird poop on the head — we’re old!

Afterwards, I tried remembering the girl I was when we met. I was young, naïve, a little stupid and oh-so-thin. I was a third-year university student with a heart that was still healing and a promise not to love again for 3 years. I don’t know how I got off imagining that it takes hearts 3 years to mend. I said I was a little stupid, didn’t I?

If I met this girl today, I’d give her a long, long hug. I’d tell her to be her own best friend because people come and go. More often than not, they go rather than come. The person who’s the best friend could become a stranger who blue-ticks her on WhatsApp.

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Parenting with a microphone – why I need to stop shouting at my kids.

If you hope to get children one day, you should rehearse your conversations with them often. You can practice with a stone, they produce the same response.

Before I had kids, I swore to never shout at my kids. I visualized myself sitting them down for some little ‘adult’ talk about their undesirable behaviour. My speech would be smooth and chocolaty even. I was to be the calm and composed mother: the one who doesn’t lose her cool in the supermarket when they are screaming for candy and chocolate; then one who bends down to their kid’s eye level to avoid looking like an intimidating mammoth.

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Does how you react to rejection reveal your mental health?

“It’s over, I can’t be with you anymore.”

How do these words make you feel? Desperate, infuriated, depressed, suicidal ..?

While it’s normal to feel all or some of the above at some point, how you choose to deal with the feelings says a lot about your mental state.

In life, disappointments are inevitable and more so in matters of the heart. If you find it hard to accept rejection and even toy with ideas of violence or even murder, you may be standing on emotional quicksand

Worrisome trend

Murder and suicide cases have been on the rise in the last couple of months. The Global Study of Homicide by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (2018) lists mental illness as a key motive for murder, among other factors.

In the cases where the murder was a crime of passion, many claimed that if one spends money and time seeking your affection, then you are obligated to reciprocate. But, are you?

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A mother’s Phone Call

It’s 9:02 AM. Miss. T and I have just dropped Miss. Z to school and we’re now back in the house. The heat here feels like the sun came to whisper something in our ears and then forgot what it was. So it’s hovering around scratching it’s head. And did I mention it’s 9:02 in the morning?

Miss. T is generating some other heat of her own with a tantrum the size of a mini tornado. I can’t believe such a tiny being has lungs this powerful! If the Malaysian plane hasn’t been found yet, I can bet you my yesterday’s Chapati that it’s in her lungs!

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Navigating Nairobi Town for Dummies

Image result for citi hoppa next

I’ve always been fascinated by the books that purport to have guidelines for dummies. Or idiots. It makes you want to pick it up because, I mean, here is someone who will dumb it down for you enough to gain entry into Punjab University.

Making fun of the people who come to Nairobi from shags has made people famous. It’s not funny anymore though, someone needs to tell the now (not-so) funny man from Ukambani to take a break on his show. This is no laughing matter anymore. Still, comedy has not yet seen what Nairobi can do to an ex-Nairobian who comes visiting after many moons.

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My Coffee Needs a Coffee


There are days, then there are DAYS. Those days when even your coffee needs a coffee, and your masseuse needs a massage. This week was one of those.

I’m nursing a terrible hot-tea burn on my thigh. It’s hard to sleep, and even harder to wear clothes! The things we take for granted! Venezuela is struggling with having two presidents; Maraga is struggling with his sloth of a judiciary and I’m struggling with wearing clothes! But I’m definitely doing better than Venezuela.

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Instant delights: Baking a cake in the microwave

It’s way past midnight. I’m the only soul that’s awake in my house, my office hours start at 10 PM. I’m in the guest bedroom, which used to be the baby’s room but the fan in here is undecided; it rotates like a footballer’s warming up session: Sprint, stop, sprint, stop.

I’m getting hungrier by the minute. Every word I write seems to get an ounce of glucose out of me. This article ought to be sweeter than Ezekiel’s scroll. The curtain is pink and peach, with images of Mickey Mouse smiling at me. I forgot to remove it when I switched the babies’ room. It reminds me of ice-cream which is not helping with my glucose situation.

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Zawadi Has a Boyfriend, And I’m a Horrible Mom


Today I felt like a horrible mom.

And this is not because I let my one and a half year old pick pop-corns from the floor and eat – which I have done. Albendazole is only fifty shillings, why should I lose my sanity and ear drums because of fifty shillings? Eat away, Miss. T, we will de-worm later.

This is also not because I dozed off in the middle of Miss. Z’s incessant interrogation.

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What if You Fly?

There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask, “What if I fall?”
Oh, but my darling,
What if you fly?

What’s the worst that can happen?

I’m in a Uber, on my way to the airport. It’s a Taxify cab, but since all toothpastes are Colgate and all washing powders are Omo,  it’s an Uber Taxify. The driver, Mr. Man, is a brawny guy, he has thigh muscles that make me want to sing, “All things taut and beautiful the Lord God made them all”.


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My struggle with Misophonia – Suffering without silence

We had our first major fight with Mr. K on the last day of our honeymoon. He woke up singing and whistling while I wanted to sleep! The whistling is what removed the pin from the grenade. It set me off so badly that I was blue with rage. Understandably, Mr. K couldn’t understand how anyone would be so upset by such a harmless noise.

As it turns out, he had triggered a reaction caused by Misophonia also known as selective sound sensitivity Syndrome. According to WebMD, Misophonia is a strong dislike for specific sounds.

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Oh, Here’s One!








The romance of the SGR has long waned. We got all kinds of ‘reviews’ when it first started operating, some telling us how to print tickets and others telling us where the toilet flush button was. (It’s right at the sink, I’m sure some of you still have no idea.)

This is not about where to find the garbage bin (It’s near the toilet, by the way). This is about my brother from America. And his blonde wife. I promise this won’t be about ticketing (although I read somewhere that someone is issuing invalid tickets, it’d be therefore very wise to print your own tickets or triple check your details if it’s printed for you.) Continue reading

Are You Happy – Or Married?


Oftentimes, I get very conflicted while writing about marriage. I’m afraid of coming across as a know-it-all in my quest to tell it like it is. I struggle with feelings of inadequacy seeing that I have only been married for ONLY five years. I hear that I’m still on honeymoon, that I haven’t see it all. That by the time we get to past 7 years, i’ll just come back to earth and watch the cookie crumble.

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We love to be tickled. Humor has been a great ingredient for happiness, even taking a higher seat in the arena of cures than drugs – laughter is the BEST medicine, remember? Ask anyone who’s in love what makes them love, you’ll hear a common answer; he makes me laugh!  If you’ve been looking for love but aren’t so lucky, maybe you should evaluate your sense of humor – or lack of it.


No one knows that better than the film industry, especially the one whose target audience are children. While many producers have come up with films and animations to make our children laugh, we need to wake up to the realization that they also have an agenda. And it’s not an agenda for good or godliness. Far from it.

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No Exercise Beats this One!

There’s an obsession with the outward appearance that is neighbouring on insanity. Take the weight loss craze and ‘team Natural’ euphoria – both of which I must add am a devoted life-member. I love my hair natural, it’s fuller than it has ever been but the maintenance my friend is another ball game altogether.

Let’s not even talk about the weight loss ‘program’. I find it ironic that a section of this country needs a feeding program while another percentage needs weight loss programs. Can’t we just switch sides like a volley ball game? All the people over 80 kgs be ferried to Turkana and Kilifi for three weeks, and the emaciated people of Turkana come to the big cities and get living space in all the chips and chicken dens.

exercise-faithThe issue of weight is not a light matter, and I hope no one gets offended by my humour attempt above. I’m a victim myself, the kilos are following me like flies on trachoma. I hear wheat is bad for me, but of late all chapatis know me by my three names and they call me loudly at 1 AM. But while I will try my best to plank, and squat and drink mint leaves and cucumber water (I’m not ready for detox yet, I think I need pre-smoothies counselling first), I have been reminded of a more important exercise and I would like to throw this other challenge in the ring — Soul Exercise.

I have thought of the importance of having a great body, free from unwanted fats and flab, curvy in all the right places and what wouldn’t I give to rock that crop top! Oh, shoot! I don’t wear crop tops, so let’s go with what wouldn’t I do to just fit in my campus jeans without suffocating in the process! But I have also looked around and seen that there is little emphasis on growing our spiritual muscles and getting rid of the things that make us ineffective in our spiritual walk.

1 Timothy 4:8 says “…For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.”

This is what I would like to see more of. People encouraging and urging one another on to godliness and going at it with as much psyche and determination as shedding the kilos. And I don’t mean all those ‘type Amen’ empty promises that are aimed at threatening people with a view to generating traffic to worthless courses. When will you understand that God cannot be blackmailed into blessing you? Even if you type amen, Monday will still come after Sunday, your boss will still be a pain in all the wrong places and you will most likely still be broke on the 19th of every month!

But if you read your bible and pray every day, if you set aside a day of fasting and actually keep off food to seek God, your life will change. Because change starts on the inside. Most of us want to change the way we look so as to please our spouses and loved ones. Granted, I want my husband to be proud of me and to actually desire being seen with me on the road. Nothing wrong with that. But if I change from the inside, I will have more energy for the outside and even more beauty from deep inside.

I’m seeing a gap that is being filled by religiosity and self-appointed prophets. That gap needs to be filled by good meaning brethren who desire to see people filled with the Holy Spirit and who seek to advance the Kingdom of God to the ends of the earth. As we exercise our bodies, let us also exercise our hearts by walking with God. Grab an audio Bible on your jog and listen to the word as you walk along, let your walk with God not be affected by your walk with jog buddies.

Just like you need to tone your body muscles, your faith is also a muscle that needs to be exercised. Heart attacks also happen in the spiritual, prevent the devil from attacking your heart by having an “it is also written”.. counter-attack on the ready.

It was Billy Graham who said, “the very act of reading the Bible will have a purifying effect upon your mind and heart. Let nothing take the place of this daily exercise”

Maybe then we will actually have the discipline to eat clean and healthy. And we will have a total change of life, not just the body.

Now, bring on the smoothie!

O.k, maybe not.