Writing articles is an art that demands a certain level of sanity, which I believe I have not yet achieved. Although I would usually journal in my book, I lacked the courage to share my thoughts here. Many things can break one’s heart, and it is at that moment that you realize the heart is more than just a physical blood-pumping organ. It is the willpower that drives you to engage in your day-to-day activities.
What do you do with your exes? Do you block and delete them on all platforms, or are you like me, and from time to time talk to them, triggered by circumstances? Maybe it’s a movie we both loved or a phrase we had a secret coded language that only the two of us can understand. Well, that’s my coping strategy, and everyone has theirs. What can I say? I’m good at keeping my enemies close. I play it safe, and I know it’s not the best, but this is my story.
With the recent rains, I have found myself writing so late in the night enjoying the company of the drops, I live on the 9th floor so unlike other tenants I have the rare privilege to relate with the sound of raindrops as they hit the iron sheet extension outside my window, the iron sheet is a box profile maroon red color, not more than a strip, its temporarily attached to the stone wall, in my view, its purpose is more aesthetic than functional the rain drops still slide in the space between the sheet and stone. The rain drops however, drop and drifts my mind so far away, this is my thought nights, and ooh these moments are sweet but a therapist will tell you that those can be early signs of depression. Please do not listen.
My neighbor on the left is a trio of Kalenji brothers, from time to time there’s going to be a knock at my door , and right there He stands with avocados the size of a new born baby head, the red sweet potatoes, and unripe bananas, I’m fed healthy, what do I say. We don’t go to the same church, I doubt they even have any but our relationship is so amazingly beautiful, maybe coz it’s lonely at the top. Sunday evenings are our favorite days as we listen to evening country music by Jeff K from an Oraimo Bluetooth speaker. Sitting on some Kenpoly chairs , I honestly feel like the landlord should be charging us more coz, we enjoy so much space,, a good thing he is not part of my audience and you won’t tell him.
I developed a passion for plants, and I’m now a mom of 4 succulents the youngest is barely 3 days old but she’s so sweet I have decided she is not leaving the house, I have her at my window overlooking the side of the house not so beautiful., I’m eventually going to own a garden these baby plants give me the responsibility of knowing I have to take care of something. Maybe before I get a real baby . More than that I love how looking at them bloom makes me feel every morning.
My apartment overlooks JKIA, it’s so beautiful especially in the night with all the lighting, so from time to time the plane landing will disrupt my thoughts. The weather is very heavy sometimes like in this rainy season and I can feel, the planes grumping so low and loud, I have not been on one yet but I can tell the pilot is almost cursing this weather. visitors who sleep over always complain how the landing planes startle them from their sleep while I sleep so soundly. there was a time my sister spent over and she would count the number of planes that had landed
I’m now singing in church, my church is a small intimate church, or at least that’s how I will refer to it. Not that I wasn’t singing before, but I’m now doing the uniform thing and holding the microphone standing on the pulpit, who thought I would have?, And how I started it… it’s just so unique and different, I was in the house then I decided to go wash the church or maybe wipe chairs, just to make my Saturday less boring. One thing led to another and I was on the pulpit the following day. In black and yellow. that was new, but we can keep being new every day, it’s allowed.
When I think back to my days as the Christian Union Secretary at Masinde Muliro University, I am transported back to a time when my weekends were filled with Friday services and two services on Sunday. I remember how I used to dress elegantly in long, flowing dresses that swayed with each step I took. As I reflect on those days, I see how naive and inexperienced I was, and I miss the simplicity of my life then.
I recall spending my days like a plant in a greenhouse, where my heart was pure and untainted, wrapped neatly, and still in its gift box. I was green, naive, and beautiful, with an unwavering belief in black and white, without any shades of grey. Although I miss those days, I do not want to go back to them.
My heart has since broken, cracked, and bled, with a few punctures here and there. But, those experiences have made me who I am today. I am grateful for the happy moments, the beautiful moments, and even the ugly moments, as they have all helped to shape me into the person I am now. Despite the hurts, pains, and wounds, I have come to realize that they are all part of the journey. I am home now, and I wouldn’t change a thing.