The Spice of Life

  “I was born at home, on the Third  day of June, 1985, to a single mother of one. Immediately my mother gave birth to me, she dumped me in the toilet…”   This is the story of Martha, who like many others, came to learn later in life that motherhood does not always come with love for the offspring. She narrates how her complicated relationship with her mother drove her into countless convenience marriages and almost suicide.    “I am told that well-wishers who heard a baby crying inside a pit latrine rescued me and took me to the Thika General Hospital. On arrival, the doctors cleaned me up and stabilized me. There was a couple that was having a difficult time getting a child, and they happened to be at the hospital at the time of my admission. As soon as they heard the story, they offered to 'buy' me.     The nurses and other hospital staff were secretly conducting my sale. My auntie, who had accompanied my rescue team had briefly left to record a statement with the police whe

Anyway, Even me I almost became a deleter the other day. A deleter is Gikuyu for an adulterer. To delete is to commit adultery. This mubaba I met used to tell me very sad stories about his crazy baby mama. I was not pulling very well that time and I also had red and green color blindness. So I was seeing red flags as green flags. Anyway, we spoke and spoke and spoke He future faked and faked and faked until I entered box Now the most hilarious thing happened on the day of deleting You know how most people complain deleting was a waste of sin because the deleter did not have enough furniture for the room? Weeeh…. That one it is like he is a descendant of donkeys Me I saw that thing and realized it is not going to work Anyway, we tried Vaseline and lube and he started joking about low mileage. I refused discomfort, He went home very angry Then he posted a photo of himself, his ‘crazy’ baby mama and their child Alaaar!!! I did not even respond to the vayolens…I have a lot of respect for

Another issue that I constantly handle in the communities is boundary violation or lack of boundaries.(Also a fruit of co-dependency) Over time, I've come to realize that majority of the generation before us didn't really understand boundaries and the sovereignty of their children. As in their parenting style was: "You will act as I want because I gave birth to you," I remember love letters from random boys being intercepted and read by parents and teachers in my teenage days. Then we'd get lectures for being written to...something we didn't have control over. Some people shared that they had letters read at school assembly, followed by a lot of bullying and jeering. Gross boundary violations normalized. Actually Posta Kenya had grounds to sue these teachers. I also remember having journals read at home in teenage. It never seemed like much of an issue. Until in adulthood the issue extended to people opening letters from TSC (my then employer). I was appalled

  On Thursday, 30th June 2022, my brother dropped by my place in Watamu. He had business in Mombasa, and Malindi, and decided to drop by and say hello to me and his niece. We made tea, and spoke about home. The worry was our mom’s state of health and I kept telling him: “Si tumwambie ajaze early retirement, I think she needs to slow down,” he told me she doesn’t go when she’s not feeling well, and the school management is very supportive. In fact, she hadn’t been in school for close to a month. We talked about her retirement and how the upcoming change was probably stressing her out. See mom was 59, and the current age of retirement is 60. We talked about the heart failure diagnosis given by Nairobi West Hospital on 15th June, and he told me the upcoming clinic-slotted for Tuesday the coming week, would help figure out the best medical intervention. Then my bro left for Nairobi. I assured him I would head out when Ayanna finished her exams. On Sunday, the 3rd of July, I woke up at aro

Two examples: A while back, someone called and told me they wanted to vacation in Watamu. I was gracious enough to take them through all the local nice places to visit. The client then disregarded the fact that she was calling me because I have a travel agency and went ahead to book directly with the hotel. She has the right to do what she wants with her money, so I understood that. Then, She told me that she has no one for company on her trip-would I be willing to show her around. Her proposition was that she would cater for drinks and entertainment. I told her I charge a daily tourguiding fee of 6,000, and invoiced her the same. She went mute-but proceeded with the holiday. It was wonderful and I was happy for her. I proceeded to work through that weekend and made that 6k through another avenue. We were both happy. Example 2: Someone came to my house and asked for a copy of Lisa. She pobably expected that I'd give it free because she's a friend. I waited for a week, on the s

Yesterday we had an awesome emotional safety webinar and as usual, there was so much to learn from Jessica, our therapist.  Being emotionally safe means that you feel secure enough to express your true self to someone without the fear of abandonment or rejection. About 95 % of the population, especially women, are thousands of miles away from this state of where they have set themselves free to be their true self in all the attachment relationships they have.  It is why many dialogues are full of…  ‘Hide my ID…my husband is doing this…I hate his behavior but I can’t tell him because the marriage will end…” “Hide my ID…I had sex with my cat. But I wouldn’t like the other church members to know” And other similar stories.  Of course, like all the other dysfunction around, this lack of emotional safety starts in childhood.  When I lived in Ruiru-I experienced this interesting ‘friendship’ with a lady who would buy beer and come to drink it in my house. She would tell me that her Christian

  I grew up in the village. I went to Kiawambutu Primary School in Kandara, Murang’a County. I was a great student throughout primary school. After sitting my KCPE, I got excellent grades and an admission to a Girls National School. It was an exciting time for my parents. I think only myself and another girl called Mary qualified to go to the national school in the entire school district. I will always be grateful to my Dad for working so hard to ensure that my fees got paid in time, and I had my basic needs. I wasn’t a poor or needy student. But that school did a number on me. My parents met all the financial needs and obligations on time. They showed up for all meetings and visiting days. But there was this social stratification and caste system that hurt you all the way down to your soul. Kids were rich, proud and conceited. Woe unto you if you didn't match those standards. I remember the beginning of my woes was a house meeting where I said my name is Mirricent, instead of Mil