Whatever happens. They are still family.

Once in a while I am required to visit my aunty who made the life of my sister and I horrible when we were young. She is still horrible but we are older and we can handle her. 

Yet I am surprised I am able to stand her and I am surprised with how much my family have to stand each other for the name of family. 

My rural home is like a close neet neighborhood who lands were divided between them and they build homes next door to each other and family gatherings where they all unite and have meals and underneath it all…

They all had secrets. 

You would never know the grandmother I hug and watch her have a hearty conversation with my Aunty. Never knowing this grandmother abused this Aunty when she was young and was also the woman who molested this Aunties brothers. 

Yet they cook a meal and drinks with fellow cousins and everything is buried. 

Not knowing that once upon a time I cried when my grandfather died he had continuously raped my mom and her big sister when they were young. 

They all moved on not forgetting but they had no one to turn to. No one knows and if they knew at that time nothing would have happened. It was kept a secret…

It completely makes me understand why most of the women in my family are bitter women. They are very bitter women who have never gotten any kind of justice and they can’t because family is family. What can you do? 

I do not have that kind of strength to stomach it like they did. They go and make a meal for a man who molested them. They laugh with their wives and their children. They pay medical fees for them. Help them. Because of family. 

This post is random. I as a Kenyan and African in the East African. What I want most is for our soldiers to get out of Somalia. With the assumption that they are there to keep the peace. we all know that is bullshit. 

They are our neighbors and we better sort our shit out and stay out of their country and wait until they need out help but the fact that soldiers are there? So many? 

I care a lot for the well being of those unprotected women who can’t speak out and once again if you try and say our soldiers are not somehow doing something messy over there then you are something else.

My friend asked “who cares about what’s happening over there? Do you? Kenya is safe because our armies are there”. I was wounded. If she has such a mentality. Then perhaps most Kenyans. 

Why are we getting attacks? What did some of out people do to warrant such attacks. That should be the question asked. 

First days in my new job.

Well let’s say I said it was awesome soon.

Its just been three days.I am experiencing.

1: Doubt.

My  co workers all speak my mother tongue Kikuyu that I was not fortunate to speak. 

They speak to me in Swahili the national language and you can’t help it but think they speak about me when they turn to speaking Kikuyu. 

But I am sure they talk about Me because they speak in Kikuyu and lower their voice. 

My other mistake. This was embarrassing. 

I used the toilet which I hadn’t known at that time but it was the bosses toilet and there was no water. So imagine the horror of asking them where to fetch water and this woman had seen me and as I was walking out with the bucket to fetch. They were like (Oh my Godding) me in Kikuyu. *you know? Like OMG she didn’t go there! And she didn’t flash?* 

Like hello!! I was heading to fetch the water. 

Then they resulted to tell me that we don’t use that toilet. Too late. I want to bury myself underground.

I am tempted to snap at them to stop talking in Kikuyu but what can I do? 

Tonight i have a connection to you.

I hold her in my arms. She licks her hand and I look outside my curtain drawned window. So bare and I see you.

Shinning down at me like a beacon in the night. I always whisper words to you. Sometimes so nonsensical that I laugh. 

Tonight. I whisper to you. So bright giving me light in the dark. 

The clouds keep you from me. They like an army gathered together to block you from me.

“Baby girl. 

The moon…look. It shines just for us. Shines despite the obstacles. 

Look. The cloudy army guards again flowing past but look like they aren’t moving,  Keeping us from such beautiful light.”

Such a beautiful night.

I have a debt collector who I owe an unlimited amount of debt.

You gave birth to me. 

You went to a far way land to support me.

Years passed. Connection fell apart.

You became a stranger who is very familiar to me.

Pays the house I live in. The food I eat. My education.

I have been a stubborn girl.

I rebel.

I am an atheist.

I am undecided about my future.

I am 23 years old.

I really made you mad this time.

I made you mad because of something I don’t really see any wrong with.

You have to have everything your way.

You expect me to turn to your tunes.

I rebel.

You say you are fed up with me. You have been silent for a long time and you have kept it to yourself.

I want to move out so bad.

I want to have a job and just get out from under your thumb.

I just don’t know where to start.

I don’t Want the words to hear every time I upset you is “if you don’t like it. Then move out.”

Someone would think you live here with us but you still live in that far away land and still want to run this household. My life.

I don’t desire to go to that faraway land to you and go deeper under your thumb. 

Its scares me most.

I do not want to need you.

Needing you is scary.

I am supposed to need you. Want you. You gave birth to me.

But your like a debt collector to me. 

I want to repay everything you have Done for me. 

I got into an unlimited debt that can never be enough no matter what I do.

Your a debt collector I want to repay this unlimited debt and I want to stay away from you.

I don’t want to build my future around you.

Makes me such a bad daughter. I am a bad daughter.

Staring at her…

Well that Title couldn’t get any more creepy…

I stare At her. 

The only thing I can accept that its a miracle.

She never asked to be born but something, somewhere, it was decided that she was to be born. 

I stare at her and wonder if she is born to be just a character but all I can want for her is to be the main lead character in her story.

Two months into my life and she has put herself into my future plans.

She is not mine. I didn’t go through nine months and gave birth to her. I exist in her life because of blood. Our blood ties us together.

I watch her rise abruptly from her sleep and stare at me and I grimace because its not been long since she last slept and putting the munchkin to bed is similar to me going to the gym. 

She then investigates her surrounding. Investigates her own body. How she feels. If she is hungry. In response. She opens her mouth and wails.

And I am back to the gym. 

Wanting but not getting…yet.

I want so many things. 

I want to get out of the house and have somewhere to go that is not planned.

I want a friend to hang out with and this friend to want to hang out with me.

I want a group of kindred people who will sing ‘one more day’ with me.

I want to have a man.

I want to miraculously wake up backpacking all over Asia.

I want to move out. 

I want a table where I sit and get lost in scribbling my stories.

I want to do something with my life that I will be so proud of.

I don’t want to go America. (Not cause of Trump. Lol.)

I don’t want to be waken up in the middle of the night by the mere fact that I hate my life.

I want to make a fresh start.

I want to eat without someone mentioning how many calories its got.

I want a lot of things.