The latest...

A watery moment of reflection...

I am bobbing up and down, feeling the extra hip, waist and love handles I have gathered in 2018 gently blob away as the water makes its deliberate, methodical way towards the beach in the rising tide.
This is fun for me, though you would not believe it is any fun if you listened to my relatives (including the ones to whom I gave birth) and friends gripe that I am not having fun because I am not doing the things they are doing, showing off, floating without a care and swimming lengths in the ocean, diving and staying under water for a while (gives me headaches, just thinking about that).
I am most distrusting of water that is more than a basinful or that goes above hip-high, even in a filled bathtub, and especially if it is continually moving as it wills. I cannot let myself relax enough to have my feet off the ocean floor. Terra firma is where my feet must rest. Yes, I know, I have flown a number of times, but phobias are not rational, are they? I sometimes wonder whether I began my exi…


Winds of wonderful fortune
Were blowing my way,
The day I met you.

May blessedness dance to your tune,
May it with you and yours stay,
To you it surely is due.

May all ill will sent your way,
Ever, always stray.
All this for you I pray.
From the depths of this grateful heart,

Where is the Love?

I climbed the
Tree Of Truth and Correction,
Climbed to the branches
Where I felt the most eloquent words grew,
Bypassed the branches laden with words that softly shone with
Care that would cautiously correct,
Gentleness that would genially urge,
Sweetness that would suavely soften stings of correction,
Temperdness that would tenderly teach,
Kindness that would cordially correct,
Love that would enliven...

Rather, I chose to be lofty, to climb
To branches laden with words that gleamed wickedly, untempered words
I heaved myself up to branches whose words froze with
Plain 'good' sense and
I reached out to the branches whose words fumed with
Say-it-as-it-is parts of speech, and
Heaved myself up further to the branches
Whose words festered with Feeling-less-ness and withToughness,
With inconsiderateness for your heart, for all your feelings,
With nary a drop of love...

I got to the top of
The Tree Of Truth and Correction,
I was lofty, lifted, heady,
I glanced downwards and
I saw yo…

The Stereotype Debunk

Unlike the day I enjoyed my first ever Madaraka Express ride, today I was in the SGR station with plenty of time to spare. Nairobi, here I come! 

I placed my luggage on the rack, placed myself in my seat and proceeded to observe my fellow passengers. 
Why did they make the seats face each other? I'm sitting opposite a man, rather portly, his hair threatening to do a full surrender to greyness, he is paunchy, he's the manspreading kind. I am protesting the facing-each-other arrangement because to straighten my legs, I would have to place them between his legs (Insert suitably shocked emoji) so I have kept my legs at a 90° angle and my knees began to complain after some time.
So I observed my neighbours and made conclusions. The portly man sitting across from me: I decided that he looked and sounded like the kind who get home and everyone scatters or goes very quiet, who speaks and his word is law, who is very certain about gender roles - he slices and dices and shares out all …

Once Upon The First SGR Ride

What. A. Morning!

It's only 11.15 a.m. (when I start writing this) of this 14th day of April, the year of our Lord Twenty Eighteen  and I have already cast hateful thoughts and looks, cast thankful thoughts and looks, had a near death experience and committed shove-crime-ish-es against the elderly...

I'm on the SGR (Shangwe na vigelegele tafadhali, it's my first time on the Madaraka Express! Yes, I know I can ride the SGR for the first time and not post about it. I also know I can post about it, so I am.)

Where was I.

Ah, yes, in the SGR (Do you know what SGR stands for, by the way? Find out if you don't. They might ask you that at your next interview just for the heck of it.) So I'm in the SGR, but I almost wasn't.

This train takes off at 8 a.m. (Actually, it started at 7.59 a.m. today. They're that prompt.) so I was all set waiting for an Uber at 6.30 a.m. I called the driver, an Andrew, planning to give him directions but he declined, declaring in a haug…

Culinary Sins Continue

There has been a coup!

Committee with a conscience disbanded and old culinary carelessness committee is back in place!

I'm back to grilled gourmet.

It is not without reason. Hear me out.

When you, Good People, prayed yesterday, you forgot to say little discomfort should accompany my new dietary consciousness.

The newly-constituted, well-meaning but clueless committee (made up of logic, calories-meter, conscience, good sense...) ordered strips of chicken in vegetables with a side of rice yesterday.

Big mistake.

My old committee has not let me forget that decision since that conscience-driven dish landed on my table last night.

First, it was the mouth and nose. My mouth made this great hoo-ha about how much pepper there was in the food, making me sound like I was chewing sugarcane while I ate. My nose was nudged into the broil, digging deep into wherever... ermm... (How to say this so you don't get disgusted?) mucinous nasal liquid comes from, so that halfway through the meal, I…

Culinary Sins

I am currently sinning.

Yes, you read that right.

No, it's not singing. Sinning.

You see... *Sigh! 😔 I promised my body that I would not indulge in dietary behaviour likely to increase the weight burden (or is it mass burden?) we bear and are trying to shed. (Before you conjure weird ideas, 'we' is [are?] my eyes, my brain, my heart, my taste buds and my now alarmingly prominent pot belly. It's quite a committee.)

So, yeah, in January of 2018 (and of every year 😔 ) we called ourselves to a meeting and rashly made promises to my body - we even took down minutes in the form of new year resolutions... we solemnly promised to eat healthy and shed kilos.

We have been failing spectacularly.

As if I have a failure record to beat, this week alone, I have to have overindulged more than a broke guy at a 1000-dollar-prize eating contest.

Yesterday, it was grilled tastiness. Today, it is pepper steak with a side of French fries. Yes, I'm hanging my be-dreadlocked head in sha…

PS: Thank You For Listening

So I'm the TOD aka OCS (Teacher on Duty, also known as Officer Commanding Station) this week. We can also go with TON - 'Ticha on Njute' as a dear friend of mine likes to call me before hooting with wicked laughter.
Being on duty at night entails being in school from 5.30 p.m. to 10.10 p.m. Today, Wednesday, Day 5, is done! Woooo hooooo! I refuse to pretend I enjoy being on night duty. I am not complaining, though... just saying... stuff.
Anyway... I have just received the roll call sheets, filed them and I'm preparing to leave. I am tired... so much so that the exhaustion feels like a heavy, suffocatingly wet blanket that I am dragging around. Just as I am putting my stuff together, a young one knocks on the door then walks in. I say a quick prayer that this will not take time.
"Yes, gentleman?" (Yes, he is a student. That's what I call my students - gentlemen.)
"Teacher," he starts (when did "Teacher" become a moniker? 🤔) "…

Of Literal and Connubial Fires

For some strange reason, the elders had allowed the eldest son of Mzee Kaukiwa to sit in as they listened to the complaints the Mzee had brought before them against his wife. He was not rejoicing in her. She might not be the wife of his youth, but she was his wife, and a man had a right to rejoice in his wife whether of youth or of... well, relative youth.

That son, ever conscientious (I rejoice in the chance to sneak in a big word or two - how will you know I know? Heheee...) about his parents' welfare, then briefed his brothers and sisters and, on the strength of his report, Mrs Kaukiwa received her second summons of the week, this time from the children who called her Second Mother. Their father had married her not too long ago after his first wife, the mother to the "summoners", had passed on to what we all hope is eternal rest.

So here she was, nearly dying of embarrassment when the children told her that they knew... heh... the CHILDREN KNEW why their father had re…