Sometimes

Sometimes I wake up with a story,
sometimes I wake up with smile,
and other times I wake up with a cry!

On this particular day, I woke up feeling good!
Im ready to face the world...
So I run to my mummy's room,
she is still sleeping!
Mummy why do you sleep so much?
Wake up mum! The sun is up already!

My mummy does not want to wake up.
She likes to sleep a lot on Saturdays, and Sundays, and on some days when she does not go to work.

The other day I woke up with a story.
I told my mum that my bed was wet, because, you know, when I was sleeping, a ghost entered my room!
Yes, it did enter! Can you hear that noise outside?
It's the ghost running away.
You know, the ghost came and cut my pipi.
That is why the susu poured out!
My mum looks at me and smiles.
She says she will catch that ghost and beat it up!
And she tells me, it's a good thing the ghost does not come to cut my pipi everyday.

Sometimes I wake up with a cry!
Sally! That's my mummy, come!
I just want her to come and carry me from my bed.
Sally! She doesn't say ...yeeess”
oh, she already went to work.
I really miss my mum when she goes to work, you know.

Whichever way I wake up, I just want to play.

Story of a life...

I don't know what brought me back to this blog after so many years....I guess the older I get, the more responsibilities I have and I can afford less and less time for such pass-times. So here I found something I wrote some years back and I decided to post it.

It was at the Main Campus cafeteria. Our eyes locked. I starred on. He looked away. I remarked to myself....black Africans rarely have such brown eyes...then I scolded myself. Why am I looking at such a young lad? Probably he is just an undergrad. Who is interested in young lads anyway? I continued munching on my fries, lost in my thoughts.

 A tray was placed on my table. I looked up. It was him! Damn him! I don't like small boys trying to hook me up. "Mind if I join you?," He asked. "Why not?" I answered. As straight faced as I could muscle. He looked into my face. I guess he expected me to look away. But I gazed on. Thinking to myself...I don't loose small battles baby! His friend had just settled at the next table. I noticed as they communicated though their eyes. He got a little bit confused. Probably he had not expected to be invited at my table. His friend was waiting. He profusely apologized for not joining me...and proceeded to join his friend.

 Moments later, and probably an appropriate excuse to his friend, he brings back his tray to my table. "Will you still allow me to join you?" He asks. "My offer still stands," I reply.

Dreams dreams dreams....

Dreams can come true, and oh, sometimes we dream and we don't want it to come true!

Last night I had a dream, one of those that you really can't believe you have dream't...In any case, how did it come close to my mind?

So here I was, I can't remember where, when suddenly I hear Julie Gichuru is looking for me...What? Me? No, it must be a mistake....and then she was like, oh, so you are...Word has gone round that you are the best presenter around, and we needed to hire someone chap chap....No, at this point of the dream, you are telling yourself, wake up, this is not real, I have NEVER wanted to be a presenter...why can't it be like, We are looking for the best writers and political analysts and it suddenly occurred to us that we could use your services... that would be better...

Bad dream, and I finally woke up, and it has not happened. Well, thinking about it, being a presenter is not a bad job....what with the rumors about some salaries these presenters earn...but I must give a thumbs up to most journos...that job can be stressing, everyday you have to come up with something new, trust me, from my days in a leading media house, where you need to produce a newspaper daily, it can be pretty stressing, but I still loved the adrenalin of working in media...but of course, not the harassment of being known by every Tom, Dick and Kamau, or the speculation with things the public should care less about.

Back to dreams that come true or don't. I once dream't I was on a holiday in Egypt, lying next to the ocean, sipping juice in a long stemmed glass, enjoying the sun while dressed in a yellow bikini, trust me, I did not want to wake up!

Between High school and University, I once dream't that I had gone to India for my University education...well, this one never came true. It was in those days when If you didn't make it to public University, your next option would be to go to India...or other such places. I made it to UON, but somehow I wish I had gone to India, and experienced life in another continent.

Then I dream't I had two sons...one was light skinned, and very intelligent, yet I loved him less. The other was dark skinned, and not well endowed intellectually, yet I loved him the most! Worst of all in this dream, I had died, and I was watching how my two sons would cope without me. Of course, the elder light skinned one did a remarkable job bringing up his brother, in this cute little house I had built overlooking the shores of Lake Victoria, set on a hill near the new tarmac road that connects Lwanda K'Otieno to Bondo...near Ramba. The only part I wish to come to in this dream....owning that pretty house on the hill.

Dreams, dreams, dreams....dreams.

Martina's Gift

I never used to consider myself so lucky, no, so immensely blessed...until I started reflecting on the life and times of my grandmother, who passed on early this year.

Martina is one person who instilled on me the value of hard work. I still think about her a lot, not because she was just my grandma, but for all the values she stood for. I think I have all these blessings in my life because of her.

Every morning, she would wake up before dusk, just to say her prayers and recite her litanies...growing up in the Catholic tradition, she instilled in the whole family good work ethics, the spirit of giving and especially to the needy and most importantly, always to pray and thank God for his gifts. I am indeed truly thankful for her gifts.

It was just the other week when I stumbled upon the story of a Ugandan woman whom the press nicknamed "bad black". The part that got me intrigued was that she was convicted of having squandered money from a company that she co-owned with a British partner. This reminds me of so many instances I see of my fellow women folk, one of them being my own mum. They are so eager to spend money they have not earned! Thank God for lessons from my dear grand-mum, I have never paid rent from money I did not earn, nor do I depend on handouts from men....I think this is the hallmark of being independent, one of those rights that women fought so hard to earn, and some, e.g in Saudi Arabia, are still fighting to earn. Being independent is not just being able to drive your own car, that you bought with your money, but, being able to provide for your self and your family, not being a pest that squanders other people's hard earned cash.

I was listening to some "girl gossip" recently....the discussion was on some lady who had got herself a diplomat of a boyfriend....the girl apparently used to live in an apartment in up-market Nairobi where the rent was like 70k per month. And then she bore this diplomat some "twins"..., from the discussants points, the girl should have meekly played housewife, and ensured she had a house in her own name, to continue enjoying the perks provided by the diplomat, some black Muslim guy from a West African country.

Apparently she was not the main squeeze - she enjoyed the status of what Kenyans call "clande". Now what she did wrong from the point of view of the gossipers - she actually still continued hanging around Westlands with "Umoja girls" waiting for "handouts" of course after granting "favours" to "mzungu" men. And when the diplomat found out, this girl got kicked out of the house, and thus, the big fall from grace to grass...since she now had to move back to "shags."

Girls, girls, girls, why can't you just work to earn your own living?

I still thank God for the lessons from my dear Grand-mum Martina.