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Girlfriends' Day -2025

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 I spoke with my friend today (if you ever read this, just know that I had a great time catching up). He was talking about a friend of his and how her personality affected the way their relationship unfolded. I think it was such a fitting conversation for Girlfriend’s Day. As I thought about the conversation, my heart started to bleed for the girls. Girls, in general, as we navigate this world. We create different versions of ourselves to stay sane in this world, to keep up not with trends or what’s in vogue, but to survive and maintain our sanity in a world where people see us as conquests and playthings, a means to an end.  My heart bled for all those versions; The one that people have treated in ways that have damaged the people they could have been The versions of ourselves that we will never get to experience again, because people forced us to bury those versions The versions of ourselves that we gave to people, because only them could have handled it The versions of ours...
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Taken - Naming & Shaming the Guilty

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  I hate how we talk about death like it is not guilty and responsible for the things that it has committed. We speak of it like it is absent and guiltless, a phenomena that exists but can't be touched. We blame the person, their habits, the system, the people, the things, even time gets a hit, but we never blame death. We talk about it like it isn't there in the midst of the conversation looking lovingly at who it takes next or the watching angrily at the one who got away. We go round and round in circles seeking explanations from whatever it is that we can find, but we never hold death itself responsible for its actions and the resulting consequences. But what exactly do we hold? The same emptiness and void that ceases not just a person's life, but their very existence - their smell, their touch, their presence, them. So bad that you see their body but it's not them. You touch them but it's no longer them. The same destroyer that works with time to slowly remove t...
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The Adulting Series - Time is Running Out

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 Adulting Series - #1 They say "na who first buy, na him buy old model" as a way to console you when your peers seem to be getting ahead and you're putting in the work but nothing is coming forth. They say in your 20s the pressure you feel is only in your head and there's so much ahead of you but what no one tells you is that you're running out of time slowly. You want the things you want at the time you want them and though they say there still time to get these things, some of the reasons you want to these things won't always be there. The day I felt I failed as an adult? It was the day I realized this truth.  My dad and pillar of hope and strength had done it all for me. Raised my sister and I alone after our mom died, being such a true support and everything you can dream of in a parent. Well, time passes and health trails, he became ill. He stayed that way for a while, we tried what we could, patching up what we could with the little we had until that cou...
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To them who feel, the true winners

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 Dear Individual, I met a girl once, she was the pride of her mother and she knew it. She was everything that her mother had ever dreamt of - she was courteous, loved by all, getting an education, skilled and beautiful.  Her mother often told her of how even though she was one of the most beautiful women in her town, she had to bear many woes - circumcision because merely having female genitalia meant having a susceptibility to sleeping around, not getting educated because education was the men's rights, not getting a say in family affairs because the she wasn't the head - her strength was to be in execution not in instruction. In the midst of these, her mother swore that her daughter will get the life she didn't. Her mum was the most open person she knew, she spoke carefully and never insulted, never wronged anyone, gave her all and minded her business. So when it first began as whispers that she was a witch, it was the worst thing to hear. Whispers became rumors and rumo...
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The Woman - IWD

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 Dear Individual, Do you remember how as a child you looked forward to growing older, and even as you grew into an adult and realized it was a scam, you knew things won't always be bad and dared to hope. Well, what if someone told you that your value as an individual was reducing as those processes were taking place. The audacity of the stupidity of humans, yeah? Interestingly, this has become the reality that women have had to face. How? Hold my glass, let me explain. Sexual Market Value, that is what it is called. It is the phenomenon that after thirty years, the value of the woman decreases majorly; this is because it is believed that her fertility starts to play "suwe" and she is not as sexually appealing as she was in her 20s. While it might seem like I am taking sides (which I am, lol). Let's see why sexual Market Value is a thing. To those who believe in it: 1. Women are considered majorly to be sexual creatures, attractive based on physical feautures and kept ...
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I lost my friend

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  Hey there! It's kinda rude to just show after disappearing unannounced. I missed this space, I hope we can move on. Many things have happened and I've decided to talk about one of them. I lost my friend. It was such an excruciating experience to let go of someone who has been there for you, seen you in many phases, moods and seasons. It's sad to say the least. Just in case you're wondering she didn't die, it was I who let her go. You see, life comes to us sometimes with a plate larger than we can consume, offering that there must be no left overs. We all go through gloomy days and because life is moving so fast, we just tend to move on and not heal. Healing is such an integral part of life that we soon forget that there are no replacements to this process. When you refuse to heal, you shove back emotions, thoughts and patterns that are only waiting to be relieved. Moving on is not healing. Until these patterns repeat themselves, we don't see that we're n...
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The Gift - IWD

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Kariowi..that's what they called her. Intelligent and brave as a kid, always caught spearheading many childhood escapades. The day came, when she alongside the village boys had bullied the young rascals, they had told her Father "she's a woman and acts as though she is not, tame her". Mama Aare had gotten the job to bring her into full blown feminity - to not speak except when spoken to, to not want just anything because of her disabilities - her female organs, to not look into the eyes of men for what slave looked into the eyes of her master, to not run but walk, to not speak but answer in submission. Countless beatings and scourings and she became the photocopy they wanted. She became a shadow, the lights in her eyes dimmed and just as those who went before her she became the perfect actress. Living with mama Aare, who had become too preoccupied with being who the society says a woman is, to be human. Three nights in a week was the roaster, her husband helped hi...
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