24+1

The title explains itself ! I am so over myself for turning 24 yesterday . I thank God for everyday I live . Its been one of the years i have had to endure so much pain but through it all , God has been faithful . Its the first birthday in many recent years where my Mama was the first person to wish me a happy birthday . It was very special . And notably , it was the first birthday in recent years my first love did not call me at 12.00 am to wish me a happy birthday (signs he has moved on i guess ) . All that aside ,I am happy that I am a year older , wiser , more sensible ans still enjoying my cheekiness .

One of the best things I celebrate this year is learning the art of letting go and being contended with the little I have . I am becoming bad at keeping grudges everyday , a good thing huh ? i love the way it sounds . Letting go ? Not so sure but its better than last year, at least am sure . I am living a day at a time . Its kinda am growing a bigger heart to accommodate (or love) more people .
There are so many things i have not accomplished as I had anticipated but i choose not to wallow in regrets but hold my head high and live in the hope of a better tomorrow .
Things I enjoyed in m 23rd Year
1. Living life to the fullest
2. God remaining my number 1 in all
3. Getting in touch with my feminine side more
4. Realizing that being single is not a curse but an opportunity to have more time with me .

P/S.. I wrote this a day after I turned 24, sometime in Late May

My Best Men

Crisp white paper, blue ink pen, a card board, some 80’s classical music in the back ground. The wind kissing the cheeks tenderly and the balcony becomes the ideal place to pen down your thoughts. This is not the normal diary you write under the bed sheet, religiously from the age of 5. When you realize that ranting cannot save all the anguish under the skin on some topics were too tacky to discuss with your “sitaki tambia mbaya” preaching mum. This is a letter, to the beloved one. The one you can only feel, remember, think of but never have a chance to touch. For me, it’s the only way I try to be in touch with the people I miss. Those who left too soon, albeit some without even a good bye. For those who managed to say bye, I am the kind of lady who just can’t handle good byes. It’s one evening, it’s not the usual spot at the balcony, and this is on the couch. Its cold and am all wrapped up in blankets, a beer mug turned coffee mug by my side, steaming with lemon tea, my favorite drink. I suddenly feel so lonely. I miss my men. All I can do is maybe write to them, despite all aware there is no connection between our worlds.

Dear My Men,
I miss you my dears. Ohh! I am sorry I could not bring myself to start with salutations. How are you doing? I guess you are all very good. I imagine there is milk and honey in your land. I guess there is merry making, partying, laughing and peaceful co-existence in your land. Dear daddy, you went quite early so am sure you are so used to the place. I can’t bet on it but maybe you remember so little of my siz and I. The last time you saw me I was your little girl, and still I am. But the other people call me a woman now. I am sure my little brother; your dear son has updated you. Even my grandmothers now ask when I will be bringing “cows”. I tell them really soon. But Daddy, am not quite sure you would be asking the same question, at least since mummy has not started asking. Probably you would be pressurizing me to go for a third degree or some professional training. Maybe you will be sitting down with me during the 9pm news to watch the NSE trends and advise on how I should invest.
I never knew if you loved football or not, but being a man, let me assume so. Please be informed that Germany won this year’s world cup. Your local football club Ingwe is doing badly. Tell my brother the same. Let him know that Fellaini shaved and every Manchester united fan hopes Van Gaal can bring the magic to Trafford.
Daddy I now have long hair and can finally understand how painful it was to maintain my ponytail until you and mum decided to get rid of it. My eyes got worse and I now put on spectacles. Though I think I would look more approachable without them. They bring out the seriousness in me too much. Don’t be surprised that I now put on dresses. Yes I do though I am yet to fully embrace them. Ask the baby of the family and he will tell you how good I look in them.
On to something worth laughing about, though am sure Dessy already told you. I have your dental formula. Its funny I know but I love it. I am not even thinking of braces. I want to hold on to something that at least am sure is 100% yours. Did dessy tell you that we moved houses? Or maybe you saw it. Yes we did. I think it was the best decision especially that we now all moved out and it’s only mum at home.
I hope you are taking good care of Dessy . I miss you two guys. My best men. I sometimes wish you were here but I Know God had better plans. I imagine if I walk down the aisle, as per the preferred norm, I would not have the joy of being walked down by either of you. I even don’t know how it will feel to have some other man chair my dowry negotiations. I have never known what it is like to have an earthly protection from a dad. But maybe it’s what has made me even stronger. God has been good to make me stronger every day. Daddy I sometimes wish I could just call you and ask about men stuff. Those things I only know daddy would have understood. I sometimes go shopping and see a fine bottle of whisky and just wish I would buy it for the man I love/d. I would have wished to see your face. From mum, I know you were not the emotional type so maybe would wait to see your face as you sipped it. That looks of appreciation on your face.
And to you Dessy, I was so looking forward to having a trophy bro. I remember mum and I discussing what a muscular man you were turning into. Maybe I would get you some “ill” fitting shirt, a pair of shorts (yes you had great legs) and maybe loafers. We would go out and I would bask in moment seeing the female version of #TeamMafisi.I can only imagine. I miss you lil bro. You knew I don’t know how to say bye, but yours really got me off guard. I remember that last call at around 4 pm. It was a little business like. I have lost track of my dowry worth (you only had that tracking system). Your dream of calling your baby girl Lizzie was cut short. But maybe I will just do that, call my baby girl
Lizzie, though most people want Annette and I to give birth to sons so that mum can have a chance to see more boys around. If so I wish they will all have a big heart like yours and maybe have less female lovers though (pun intended). By the way, I have no one to share t-shirts and shorts with. I miss your guilty face, hehehe! Especially when you came past curfew hours. I miss the way you would coax mum into relaxing after some tongue lashing. I miss your tales of your girlfriends.

It’s hard to talk to anyone about how I miss you. No one in the African traditional society was to talk about the dead frequently. But on paper, I have no limitations. After daddy, you remained my man number one. You were a boy turned man after my own heart. I miss you. To me it is not a cliché that nothing will ever fill this void. I knew we were so attached when even our own mother could not distinguish our voices over the phone. 18 years on and I still miss daddy, the person I spent less than 7 years with. You can only imagine what happens to you, a man I spent nearly two decades with. It’s not easy but as each day passes on, I learn to live with it. I just hope daddy had not forgotten you. Maybe you were taller than him already. I think he still keeps his hair afro. I think he still likes his chapatti. And his Nyama choma too. I just hope you are all fine. We are fine too. Don’t be worried. Though pained, we are all ok. Mum still loves her chicken and siz her sweets. I still do my pasta . The only thing is that am now trying more feminine pair of shorts.
I have done enough of gossip here my best men. I wish you all the best. Don’t be sad, God knows why and his work is always perfect.
Yours truly,
Aseyo (or Ngudu is still ok for you daddy )

Fikira

Staying up most of the night thinking can at times be healthy. Thinking about me myself and I. It is funny how I have rarely taken time to think about me. Mostly, I will be thinking about someone or something. That is selfishness. I ought to think about me more often. And so why would I want to think about me? Do I really have to? Oh yes, I do. I have spent endless hours figuring out what people are but I have not done that to me I tend to think am extrovert but I have known me to recoil into a cocoon that I doubt if it’s me. I am so bold that I think I can almost do anything but in the same breath I rarely hold gazes. I don’t look into people’s eyes unless am on a mission.
One of the major things that I kept on thinking about was how I deal with pain. Induced emotional pain that mostly arises form let downs. My weakness is that I am very slow to getting it that I am hurt. You may do or say something hurtful that will take me up to one year to feel that you hurt me. It’s very sad that when it hits it’s so painful that I feel just not the pain but also hate, betrayed and let down. I usually try to figure out why you had to do it. During this period all I want is space. Physical space. I hate a cluttered space when am hurt. I hate dirt when am trying to deal with pain. I loathe disorganization when am pissed off.
Sometimes I tend to imagine physical pain is very bearable and yes I have induced it, not once, or twice just to try and substitute my emotional pain. I have not gone overboard to hurt myself so much but I have thought about it. Have you ever seen guys sweat out the pain? Or at times cry it out? Some fluid out of the body seems to go away with the pain. At times I tend to think since blood is thicker, a little shedding may take away all the pain (though I have never tried) . Unlike love break ups where somehow it’s the norm, little betrayals start a chain of betrayals that keep on haunting us for the rest of our lives. Below it just a little of my confession
“A few years back, we really din’t know each other. A few years back we turned into more than acquaintances. I don’t know what bonded us but it was a bond that he (let’s call him John), warned me against. This was because I was bitter with her (Damon). Damon had hurt me so much in the past. Though to date I have never had the strength to confront Damon, I got all the evidence to feel betrayed. It’s a thing to be betrayed by a friend but another to be hurt by a close friend. Before I dealt with my pain, I thought getting closest to Damon was the only way I could heal (read get even). John sat me down and explained the pros and cons of my decisions but I pretended that I just wanted to forget the past but not revenge as he put it. Deep down I knew I was lying to myself. John clearly explained the risk I was running into; being hurt all over again. I dismissed him and went ahead. For the few years I never had a plan, a revenge plan, despite watching all Revenge seasons. As much as I admire Emily, I just couldn’t borrow her basic revenge lesson, have a PLAN. I went in blindly. Luckily along the way I somehow got a way to hit back. To hit back I did. It was the sweetest feeling. The feeling that doesn’t last for long but as it lasts, it’s so nerve calming, I had, in one package, pricked Damon’s emotions, personality and pride. I had exposed the nativity and stupidity that had for so long been carefully concealed. It was bad. I felt bad every time I looked at how stupid Damon was. Trusting me (I thought so) yes I was getting my way. For as long as it lasted, it was the sweetest revenge I ever had. Damon is a fool. I could always do it again but I don’t want to. I think the best thing would be for me to speak out. To wail, curse, air my grievances. I just want Damon to that I know the cause of the pain I have endlessly aired. I want to do it but I just can’t .I live with the guilt of revenge I had. Along a revenge mission, maybe for a woman, we get emotional attachment. Didn’t Emily also somehow get too involved with the Grayson’s’? Mine may not be the exact Emily situation of a man and woman falling I love, getting married and divorce. Mine doesn’t involve putting a ring on it but I know when you play dirty, just know you won’t come out with sparkling clothes.”
I have listened to some audio from TD Jakes about letting go. I have listened to it over and over again. Truth be told, it isn’t as easy as clicking the play button of the audio. Letting go of something/someone that suffocates me has never been easy. But it reaches a time when you have to turn the key, open the door, get out lock the door and dump the key into the septic tank. You walk out your held high that you can suffer no more. It’s the feeling am finally getting after getting rid of some old clothes I have held on for so long. Get rid of anything that hurts you and embrace something that makes you happy. Turn on the music, put on your dance shoes and swirl your skirt. Life is too short to be stuck in mediocrity
N/B: By no means is any of the situations related to matters of the heart skirt. Life is too short to be stuck in mediocrity
N/B: By no means is any of the situations related to matters of the heart

reality check

This is my best quote . Delivered by Obama in the first speech as an American black president
We need to steer clear of this poverty of ambition, where people want to drive fancy cars and wear nice clothes and live in nice apartments but don’t want to work hard to accomplish these things. Everyone should try to realize their full potential.