#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks


Puffed paths pass through a rich man’s gut.
Starved stars strut in poetic poverty and sass.
Ni ngori kwa head man anayefanya kazi kupata head rest.
But the chief point remains the existence of a cozy nest.
May we borrow in unity but pay individual taxes.
Piecing together redials of liberty from missed texts.
Figurative language becoming reality to fit in boxes.
Ticks for the win as they suck through our losses.

Perfect pal pats the back that soon receives the kicks.
As past proverbs find the man at the mic through teary sums.
Bas bas bas… mwanaume tulia hakuna haja ya kutense.
Rebuilt bridges burn taking down those on the fence.
Liars are firm as they fill tills for they believe the words they say.
The victims perpetually disillusioned when they finally have their day.
A bite of the national dessert where everyone wants to pick a bone.
Few want to work for the home yet everyone wants the throne.

Puff puff pass the responsibility requires a dose of bluntness.
That’s why we intercede but never have the time to confess.
Wasi wasi ukipata utaambiwa uinue macho kwa clouds.
Building speed tracks in the air in search of a higher ground.
The snaking smoke gifts vivid dreams from night terrors.
Cursing the waking hours with the weight of a turn of errors
Entangled in a web of our choices that sometimes makes us sensitive.
Memory evaporating when reminded our voices are truly representative.

In the end we smash the mirror to avoid our reflections; forgetting we are all sinners under the tree of our selections.

#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Politricks


Oh God of all creation, poor or rich, from the wet sands of the Coast to the dry sands of the North.
Bless this our land and nation with rains for our fruits and sun for our growth.
Justice be our shield and defender, even when judges won’t defend us.
May we dwell in unity of all tribes as one, recognizing the origin of the fuss.
Peace and liberty be truly felt than just words on paper.
Plenty be found within our borders, more than enough meat, for our newspaper.

Let one and all arise awakening the mind from its colonial slumber.
With hearts both strong and true finally punch our number.
Service be our earnest endeavour to our neighbours and strangers.
And our homeland of Kenya be protected from all dangers.
Heritage of splendour from our farms to our seas.
Firm may we stand to defend from the mountains, never again on our knees.

Let all with one accord to leave our country better than we find it.
In common bond united from the chosen to the misfit.
Build this our nation together without qualms or complaints.
And the glory of Kenya fly free of any restraints.
The fruit of our labour improve our standard of living.
And if we ever forget, fill every heart with thanksgiving.

Original parts of the Kenya National Anthem included written by: Graham Hyslop, G. W. Senoga-Zake, Thomas Kalume, Peter Kibukosya, Washington Omondi, 1963

Kenya Flag
Dad, Life, Love


I furrow my brow a lot. Mostly as an involuntary reaction to filter out the glare of human “stupidity”, incompetence, ignorance and prejudice. And also, the sun. 😅

I’m light sensitive you see. I have every type of “chromatic” in my glasses. Even my stunnaz/shadez/goggles (80s, 90s kids 🤭) are prescription. You can also be sure for reason number one. I have used it in the mirror too. I am quite self critical.

I didn’t really ever notice it that much till my dad passed away. 5 years today. The photo chosen to be used for his obituary was one where he was doing exactly that. Sure, the sun was in his eyes. However, he could also have been doing it because someone had forced him to wear a tie that day. Probably one of my sisters or all of them. It was hard to get this man to agree to something. I wonder who else I know with the same need to see logic before agreeing to something. Cue mirror again.

The moment I saw that photo on the family group as it was being chosen for the newspaper, it finally hit me why it looked so familiar. I had seen it in my own photos before. Photos as old as when I was just a toddler. You see, my dad didn’t really take many photos of himself. With his old camera and then newer shinier black Kodak camera, he took most of our photos when a studio was not available. Getting him to pose for one was another story altogether. And the few photos I had from before had never captured this moment. Since that day I started a quest to find as many photos from the family albums where he is doing that. They are not many but I found some more.
In fact by watching all my siblings. I realized they all do it. Even the ones who don’t wear spectacles. With time I even see it in his grandkids. Especially in the boy named after him. He usually does it when he is hell-bent on not doing what the mum is saying. Coincidence? Methinks not. Sure enough most humans probably do it. But it is the uniqueness of the lines that form on their faces that makes my heart skip a beat. The lines that remind me of you.

Today I celebrate you. As you celebrated all of us and our achievements. You probably wrote our CVs out to people you met as you spoke proudly of your children. I have met people years later who only knew me all the way to the personality core, just from your words.

It is why today’s words will not be sad as that poem from years back. It’s why I can manage a fair amount of jokes as I write you this tribute. I remember the number of times you had me guffawing at the jokes about politicians, wrestlers and most frowned upon by dear mother, religion. And so, today amid the tears that we can’t dry or deny, I get to smile. I get to know that one emotion can be expressed as two. I also get to see that furrowing our brow is more than just a reaction or a way to judge. It is a way to take a stance. A way to strive forward through hardships. A way to turn up even when we might not feel like it.

A few quick updates.

Your 2 elder sons have since decided to wear caps as much you did because your warnings on baldness fell on deaf ears. 🏃🏿‍♂️🏃🏿‍♂️😂
The other one (mirror moment) won’t shave his hair because he is caught in your spirit of the 60s. He also didn’t heed your warning on early grey hair.
There’s 2 more grandkids. You would have loved to meet them.
Your family has grown so much we take the family photo in panorama.
It sure would have been a lovely excuse for you to avoid more photos. 😁😁❤️❤️

We still miss you in our midst.
We miss your toughness. We miss your kindness.
We miss your glares. We miss your cares.
I miss the furrows in your brow that said: “This is how I got you this far.”

Koma thayû baba.

Culture, Life, Prose, Travel, Work


Today is a special day for me. It has been 10 years since I started working at Nielsen, to the date. December 1st 2010 was my reporting day. On the 2nd day I was off for graduation rehearsals and on the 3rd which was my first Friday I was off for my graduation at the UoN. However, because the stories and lessons from 10 years might be too much to write on, let me first take a step back to where and how this journey started.

My last month on campus was July 14th 2010. It was exactly one month after my birthday and meant having to study and clear my final exams at a time I would have chosen to be partying. But I was used to it. The Kenyan 8-4-4 system having exams or at least midterms in June was something I was used to.

After a few months of lounging, series watching and overall lazing around. Ok, I lie, I still had evening classes for my IT degree but for the first time in 4 years I had freedom during the day. This freedom proved too much for me to cope with and by October 2010 I was working as an online researcher at DAPROIM (Data Processing Information Management) Africa, the name may have changed since. I was a wage earner payable based on the number of validated questions answered. And this is where our story begins.

On October 21st 2010 at 3:29 PM (I still have the email to date), my elder brother forwarded me an email titled “Circulate Urgently”. The email originated from his best friend and roommate from his campus days. The reason I make sure to mention the time the email came in is because that vacancy was expiring the next day by 4 pm.

Now, these were not the days of smartphones, laptops at home or easily accessible internet. Even getting somewhere to type up a CV could prove a challenge then. Yes, I know I make it sound like 10 years ago was the dark ages, but maybe it was. More than half of these photos were taken on cameras not camera phones. However, because I had started my online research career where the personal email was used daily to share back the data, I did not miss this email. That night after I was done with work, I applied for the position. So quickly that I barely got the full info on the document correctly. I had never come across market research before then. The vacancy was a 6 month per rotation for 3 rotations young leaders program for a total of 18 months, basically a job. My understanding as I clicked send on the email was that it was a 6 month internship and we all know how much we are on the lookout for those after school. Before we have any proper experience in the job market. I just hoped they gave fare or lunch or something.

At the start of November I received an email from a company I did not know. Because how many in Kenya knew the name Nielsen then or still do? I had no recollection of my application due to the speed with which I had sent it in, to make the deadline. This was the first time I read up on the company properly. This time I included the full scope of market research and more as I prepared for the interview which by the way was just the next day from the invite email. There was therefore the small matter of attending the interview while still working elsewhere. My naivety or boldness led me to not my supervisor’s but the company owner’s office. Now deceased, his words remain the best push I could ever have needed at such a time. I was feeling terribly guilty to leave so soon. He said that my work for him was always meant to be temporary, it was a stepping stone to greater things especially for those recently out of school. He then proceeded to give me the next whole day off to prepare for the interview.

One face to face interview and two virtual interviews later, which included some parts in French because the role would require interaction with our Francophone countries, I was hired. With the requirement to get a passport as soon as possible. This is where the 10 year journey truly starts.

I could write pages upon pages of the lessons, the mistakes, the joys, the lows of the last 10 years but this post is just a celebration of time past. It celebrates the seconds, hours, weeks, months and years we have lived through, sometimes survived through as a working adult.

Most importantly, most people I know still make fun of not knowing exactly what I do. I have done loads and that might be the reason. Or I have done such specific work it is sometimes unknown to others. I will make sure to tag them on this post.

So for the last 10 years, here is a brief layman-termed breakdown of what I do or have done in the last 10 years.

  • Data Acquisition Specialist (DA Young Leader Program) – I managed projects including budgets, field personnel for fieldwork. I was learning the market research trade at the same time and hence the various trips for learning workshops. I completed my first BPI (Business Process Improvement) project by the end of the 3 rotations.
  • mRES Tech. Support Reach and Read E.A & C.A – Company transitions from Pen and Paper to Mobile Research. I become in charge of vendor training, technical know-how and online data quality analysis for East and Central Africa
  • Technical and Help Desk Manager, SSA (Sub Saharan Africa) – Same role expands further as more countries move to mobile research. I travelled to train new helpdesks to support the country. The French we might have forgotten comes in handy. Next thing I know, I am a manager by 25.
  • mRES, SOS & RRES Technical Leader; Back Office HHT support – More countries, more softwares, more data analysis, more people management.
  • Quality Management System (QMS) Lead – Emerging Markets – Provided insights for 64 emerging markets based on quality, cost, timeliness, productivity etc
  • Operational Insights Lead, Global Markets – All markets, any possible insight for operational cost effectiveness. Includes insights that could lead to enhancements to existing apps or new app development. Includes presentations on analytics and data studio dashboards.
  • Module and Process Owner/Lead, Navigator App – Liaison between software developers (Tech team) and user needs. Includes loads of documentation and follow ups to clear the product backlog. I get to learn and use JIRA as part of Agile product development.
  • Platform Support Specialist (QMS, GSR, GDA TM) – Analysis of root causes that make platforms and different modules unstable to the user. Document root cause analysis all the way to resolution while updating troubleshooting guides on a website that will guide the users in days to come.

All this while learning about work-life balance. Managing to keep my life of writing as intact as possible though the onstage performances may have suffered a bit. So as you enjoy my CV or decide to skip it, we come to the major question that reared its head even when I wrote my 5 year anniversary piece. “Why are you still in this one place?” The list is long and it includes many things from stability, excitement, innovations, use for this brain that won’t quit but my most important one is, managers.

There is a cliché that goes: “People don’t leave bad jobs, they leave poor managers.” As much as there is speculative truth in that for most people. It rings extremely true for me as I turn the page on this decade. 10 years, 8 titles and 11 managers later I am still here, having met only 2 of those managers face to face. It is great proof that a company is its culture. And there is no culture without people accepting and propagating it. Culture crosses borders, accents and screens. Culture makes employees feel needed and useful in their teams. Culture got me to a decade.

So this post is not only a celebration for me but an appreciation to those who laid the steps and kept me going for this last decade. My appreciation for that email forward from Pablo to Kevoh to me. My appreciation for the late Steve Muthee for the honesty and positive vibes he left behind and with me as I looked to start this career. My appreciation for all others who have made this 10 year journey not only manageable but enjoyable. And lastly to my Creator, who has seen it fit for me to see this day. Excelsior!!

#IAmKenyan, Culture, Hip hop, Kenya, Life, Politricks


Nilianza kuandika nikiwa form 2.
Enzi za ESir but nikakosa visa ya kustudy past the studio hii story ni true.
Nikarusha dice, nikaangukia ofisi kama kamari.
Lakini usanii hatutawahi sare.
Nitacontinue kushoot shots kama Alehandro lakini nitabakia mkarimu kama Benzema.
Nilitunga mistari kabla nipate ID lakini jina nikajipa sikuwa nameless.
Live up to the banditry najipox kila time ndio niwapee presha.
Shash ikareplace gomba kwa lyrics, maneno yanapaa juu sio moshi wicked.
Nimeflex kwa jua kali najenga future, it’s not all for the ladies.
Narusha macho kwa manzi wa Nairobi nasema rest in peace Lady S.
Pilipili hainiwashi bali yanipa morale ya kuknow nini ndio next step.
Tones ziko na genge mpya limemuok sio warazi tu wanarep.
Msanii ni kioo cha jamii, sauti ya umati lakini fikra za wengi.
Ndio maana artistes hukaa manarcissist juu lazima waiinsist.
Kubadili perception inayoharibu reception na kutoana rangi.
Ningekua reckless na message ya wakiritho lakini wako ritho.
Wanaeza ita SWAT na sio time yangu ya kulambana na the law.
So nitazidi kusema mi ni divine, “I’m a miracle, baby.”
Nimechungulia family nikaona hatutabaki kukohoa kwa Corolla.
Kama Femi tutawezana na wale wana vitambi Major?
Nani atatoa gang kwa boondocks and sail us kwa hao iko in a better state?
Juu maKartelo wamekuwa millionaire na pandemik, sealing our fate.
Nimenyongwa na ethics ndio nasimama kuchachisha.
Nitainama tena, haja ya haya maneno thao ikiisha.

#KenyanMusic #Genge #Gengetone #GengeNotes


(d)ivine musings #5

Just 48+ hours since International Men’s day. It would be a disservice not to write about the mental health aspect of it. The little I can with hands that burn up with pain every 15 minutes. Again, I reiterate repetitive strain injuries from typing are a thing. Keep a look out for numb fingers or hands. That said, you can be sure this post will take a while to write. Therefore, let’s get to the points quickly.

Instances that I consider having almost lost my life:

Passed out for hours at M. Patel hospital (real name should be Limuru Nursing Home I think) circa 1995 because I was dehydrated and in pain. My body for hours as it had done before kept trying to throw up food that was non existent in my stomach. Yes, I grew up such a sickly child I missed most of my lower primary (nursery to class 3) schooling. Primary school friends had learnt to help me stand and walk home when I was too weak from vomiting anything I ate. But this particular day was different. Feeling the heaving tension almost break my ribs and spine. I remember letting go. I knew when to give up. I hadn’t before. Also a child shouldn’t remember. But I do. Because this particular brain is designed to hold onto information. Too much information sometimes. You learn how to handle it or live with it as you grow older. Teachers call it genius, some call it creativity, others call it madness. I call it the pursuit of happiness.

Saba Saba riots circa 1997. My eldest sister and I are in Limuru again. I am sick again but this time sickness is not the issue. It is just tonsillitis. The political meeting happening near Limuru market is. As was common during the Moi regime, the meeting was broken up by the GSU as tear gas and beatings soon rent the smoky air. Remember by then Rev. Njoya had already been badly beaten 7 years prior. The late Queen Wangari Maathai had also been hospitalised some 5 years before fighting the oppressive regime. No one was safe when the GSU arrived. Possibly resonates to date doesn’t it? I digress. There was no escape for us as more cops with batons chased people from the market towards the shopping centre where we were. Shop owners hurriedly closed their doors and we soon had nowhere or no one to turn to. But my sister did not give up. She stood in front of one door and kept banging and pleading. I on the other hand barely had a voice with my painful tonsils now on fire from breathing in teargas. Seconds seemed like actual hours as in the artificially dreary afternoon I prepared my back for the landing of kicks, sticks, blows and stones. I was ready to scream for the broken young bones. In the last second (so last second we could hear boots and screams outside the shop) the shopkeeper finally heard our pleas and let us in. A tiny tailor shop where we had to squeeze in with the Singer sewing machine and the clothes hanging from the walls. The space was so cramped our bodies had to touch the 2 sheet thin closed metal doors. Internally we prayed (or I did) for no stray bullets as they ran rife then. Again, a child shouldn’t remember that much detail.

Circa 2016, carjacking, pistol on my head. Jerky nervous hands. Shot goes off. Lagertha my beautiful white queen (ok, car..Men 🙄) courageously receives the bullet that passes by my right ear. This story is told online in a few words because our security is so internal it is upon you to keep the right shields (grill doors) up.

Circa 2019, 14 Riverside attack. I put off going to get my lunch at Secret Garden for 1 hour. I was going to be seated or walking from the restaurant when the suicide bomber blew himself up right outside it. As many in our building remember. We all trooped outside thinking it was a gas explosion heading for the fire point. Our building being the first from the entrance. We almost rounded the corner when our IT guy, a few paces ahead of me, seeing the men in all black and ski masks walking in through the gate, made the best split second decision he probably ever has made. Or at least to all he saved with his words. He said and I paraphrase, “These guys are not cops. Go back in. Forget your fire training. This looks like an attack.” The men barely got a chance to see us. No one came into our building. We were some of the first people out. Those who had to crawl out as explosions and gunshots still tore up the calmness of the river-side greens. Those people later made into memes because they seemed like men afraid for their lives. Yes those men. A year after in 2020, almost to the date they almost died, they were locked up in homes, lost jobs and loved ones to Corona. An adult should remember this.

The objective of this writ (as some that I do are usually for more my benefit than yours) is to give this clear message:

We are similar but are not the same. We are unique but still familiar. We find courage in spite of weakness. We find bravery in spite of fear. We smile when there’s so much to cry for. We live and we learn. But most importantly, we strive, for our dreams…and yours. We are men. #MensDay #MentalHealth

Life, Prose, Work


I have been meaning to write this for a while now but the inspiration comes then time goes. We all know how that works. Let’s hope this time I see it all the way through.

I have been an admin of several whatsapp groups. Usually the ones that are for a quick reason and then are quickly disbanded or those that are noisy then fizzle out and die. Others include family groups. I remember being an admin of our nuclear family one at one point. That role was well handed over to one of the elder siblings at one point.
However, the one group I have indulged myself the most in, to the core, is my high school group. I did write a post last year about all the work they have done and continue to do. This will not be the topic though as the title already sold out. It is about the unexpected but not unwelcome insights gained from having to constructively manage the conversations that happen in a group of over 100. One hundred very unique minds. Some of these lessons I may have come across before in my career but I hope this puts it in a more relatable and palatable format.

  1. Empathy is the only way I can truly hear you.

The reason I made sure to mention the number of people in the group and how unique they all are is to articulate how differing their opinions would be. Without truly understanding why someone is whom they are; the journey they have been on and the path they are still walking. I can never truly relate to why they reason the way they do. This also means I am seeing them through a blurred lens when they opine contrary to me or the usual world view. Leading sheep is easy, it’s the GOATs that present a problem. 😉 Any football manager knows that.
I won’t say I have everyone or anyone figured out. Fortunately or unfortunately, they don’t all post at once or always. I do however know I breathed easier once I removed myself from the discussions or arguments. The view gets way wider and brighter when you step back.

  1. A leader’s reaction always outweighs the original action by those he leads.

We are all prone to emotion. We get angry, we get sad, we feel irritated by different events, actions or even words. Yes, we would all benefit from having a little bit of Emotional Intelligence (EI) but nothing can fix it when the leader is the one who has lost it.
No matter what a member has done. The next action by the admin, be it a warning or a removal has to be carried out in the most unbiased, objective way possible. With this said, it also means, not everything needs an immediate action. Emotions calm down after a few hours. That is the best time to discuss the next course of action.

  1. Leaders don’t put people on scales, they find the balance.

The admin of a WhatsApp group being answerable for the group content (as per the laws of our land last time I checked) means coming up with group rules. In such a situation there will always be proponents and opponents to any idea. A leader as a human being will also have an idea of what he likes or doesn’t like. But in the end and most times, neither the proponents or opponents are truly wrong. A leader discusses the idea and not the person. Where concessions can be made, they are. The idea is to find a new rule that both sides can find; not worth breaking.

  1. Leaders know what matters but are not masters of all.

The best part of a leader’s job is when they just get to listen. In this case, to just read pages upon pages of new knowledge or insights. Amongst all these group members are people well versed in their trades. They have gained various experiences being employed or self employed, building or buying, scams vs opportunities, married or single 😅😂 etc. In the cacophony of usual news, memes and small talk. We are surrounded by a wealth of doctors, engineers, finance experts, lawyers, analysts and many more. The best group moments are when a topic is raised and the experts in their various fields come out to play. Sometimes for hours or days. As a leader, this is the best time to sit back and let others drive the conversation.

  1. You can only manage but not lead those who don’t trust you.

In writing to thank the group members for the gift and the work they have done over the years, I mentioned that due to fundraisers, we have to walk the slippery accounting road. This in itself comes with its own height of trust but I am looking at trust in the wider sense.

People use groups as safe spaces to let out their opinions, sometimes personal news and frustrations. Whereas not all that they send out to a group will be received positively by everyone. They need to know that in the end, they are writing to a platform where they are respected and not judged unfairly.
Since group members being many cannot always be the ones to project that, it is upon the admin to make sure a member feels safe when they translate their thoughts into words. The same goes for a leader and when the people they lead present ideas to them. Members and employees will only be vulnerable with those they trust.


  1. Maybe you were meant to lead at different times, at different things

My commonly used name in high school was Kîmemia. I tried to get the rest of my dormitory (we all know that is where the name that sticks is wrought) to call me Edu or Edwin to no avail. Some might think I lacked pride in my African name. My issue? I was the only one. It was or remains that rare. And yes I know we have had a CS by the name.
However, this meant once my name was on a punishment black book. There was no escape to be found. I doubt many prefects ever took my admission number which was meant to be the great differentiator. This did however teach me and steer me towards activities away from that punishment parade but I digress.

The group members rarely use my name anymore, when they text me or call me. There are different monikers they use but bar the obvious one “Admin”, the 2 most common ones are Idi Admin (from when I would refuse to bend) and School Captain or SC for short.

In form 1, at the ripe (I say ripe because I was like a ripe round melon) age of 13, I got to be the one who had to stand next to the school captain on the parade ground. This was simply just by virtue of being a form one in the house that I was in. Many form ones before and after from my house have got to do this. I am not special. Here I go digressing again.

You see the school captain was a figure to be revered, the deputy school captain was to be feared. More on that on another day or never. 😂 This meant I would spend time as we waited for the assembly to start imitating the SCs non smiling face and crossed arms, nonchalantly of course so as not to be discovered.

And that is as close as I got to being a prefect. 😂😂

Sure, the person I was then might be different from whom I am now. Even so, I do like looking back on the past when I can even if to just glean one last ounce of wisdom from the experiences. I got to remember that 2 years after high school I was leading and training a salsa dance troupe to collegiate competitions. In campus, I was a French class representative and French Club Chairman. (I am not writing my CV I promise, I have a point.😅). I also happened to be the class representative in the other campus.

Of note is that some of these positions of leadership I took up myself while others were bestowed upon me. I don’t know what exactly changed and when it changed between high school to then to now.. Did it happen due to confidence gained on stages acting or dancing? Did it happen because I was doing something I love? One thing I do know is everyone has their place to lead. Even in a team that already has a formal leader. Be it in something that excites or a new uncomfortable place. All I can look back and say now is that: When it was my time to lead, I didn’t even notice it happen. So take your chance, today!

“Wisdom must be acquired. Experiences must be examined. Lessons must always be learnt.”

#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Life, Politricks


I write from the roots that hold me firm to my faith.
The seeds that germinate inside my cranium like the tree that I don’t cross.
I’ve been awake, my ALARM CLOCK rang a decade ago.
Eyes have been dead set on the living evolving colony.
Alone, didn’t want a loan but now everyone’s blowing up their phone.
The gaps from scraps to burps getting WAY TOO BIG.
Metal trucks drive away with the earth’s vibration.
Though “wenyenchi” and their actions are NAUGHTY BY NATURE.
I still find the rhythm in my lack of naughty despite their nurture.
Before TIME FLIES away from us and we never get to speak the Sauti of our soul.
Let me tell you a SECRET as we follow the FLAME to enlightenment.
The same one that burned within Wangari and scorches when ONYEKA speaks.
Your parents are strong but your ancestors were AFRICAN GIANTs.
Read the wrong books and now look at the MONSTERS YOU MADE.
You were meant to be huge, a big man oga.
In cracked mirrors you created the illusion of an ogre.
Walked down your throne and yet you’re royalty in REAL LIFE.
Take this journey I will tell you WETIN DEY SUP.
At 23, looking out to the universe from OluwaBandit’s lap.
How beautiful and WONDERFUL because with love came laughs.
The past is the past, wisdom says I should walk TWICE AS TALL.
The most important part is that I answered His call.
There’s memory in my forgiveness, I NO FIT VEX.
There’s also strength in my mind than what you see in pecs.
I can already see the ladder, my feet are already stepping up.
I choose to walk for the scenery, I fly when I LEVEL UP.
I see we are walking the same journey now that everyone has come out.
About to rouse the entire galaxy from its coma.
I am not done learning but this knowledge you can BANK ON IT.
It’s why I choose to end this monologue with a COMMA,


(d)ivine musings #4

“Romeo & Juliet

Act I

Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sampson: I do bite my thumb, sir.
Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sampson (to Gregory): Is the law on our side if I say ay?
Gregory: No.
Sampson: No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
Gregory: Do you quarrel, sir?
Abraham: Quarrel, sir? No, sir.”

My lower lip is almost always red or scarred as it is in this photo. This reminded me of an older photo on this profile 6 years back when one of my sisters commented that I’d burnt it with alcohol. 😅😂

The truth? I bite it. A lot. Throughout the day. When writing, like right now. When analysing data. When musing.
This would seem a bad habit but considering in high school I was chewing on my inner cheek, I have made progress. To put it in further perspective my recently wed brother will almost cut his tongue off when working. The more manual the labour, the more that tongue is held between the front teeth. An artistic friend of mine used to chew through one of her knuckles when painting. And darn could she paint!

What is the lesson of the day? There is usually none. Just closing another open tab in my brain. However, I wondered. If we were Capulets, how many Montagues would we offend with our wayward biting? How many people do we currently offend? Have we started lifelong quarrels? 😅😂😂

And if we have, did you just see the offence and miss the art we were creating?

Kenya, Life, Love

Love in the time of Corona

Have you ever visited the Nairobi National Park, Amani?
On an open top van surrounded by nature and its eyes, with no civilization in sight, as you push away daydreams of the man-eaters of Tsavo?
To stand where your forefathers stood as they prayed for your destiny?
I want that one more time.
I want to be lost on a street in Delhi, to feel the energy before the lights turn green and a hundred tuk tuks breeze by.
I want another meal in Douala, to get my muscles infused with plantains washed down with a soda that is too large.
I want another roadtrip and then another.
I want the warmth of a wooden fire in Meru, cooled by the breeze coming from the river.
One more night of spoken word at stages past and future.
I want to stand on balconies and share ideas with strangers who become friends when the sun is up.

Walk on the Eletric avenue again.
Climb the Longonot.
Ride the Sagana river.
Dance like the age of the discos.

I want to go out and make as many new experiences as I can.
But most of all I want to survive. I want to live my dreams, see what becomes of the man.
Give me that chance. One more time.
That’s why I won’t allow that virus out there to get my mind from me, let alone the last of me.