Dear Future husband.

I will want a lot from you a lot in the future but please…please…be a strong man who speaks up when something is wrong and steps forward to do something. 

I need you to be able to stand up to my mom. You see she is a narcissistic woman who loves getting her way and if it is not her way then she will say that you bewitched me or something.

And also…please, I hope your mom isn’t as batshit crazy as mine and too add. Please let’s make money and buy her a house and someone to take care of her when she is getting old. I am not planning on sending my mom to an elderly institution. Granted you are an African man…please. I have enough relatives issues in mine, I kinda hope you have a small family.

My grandmother had 8 sisters and a brother. So I have like 50…aunties and uncle’s.( My mother’s sisters are also batshit crazy like m mom.) so you should imagine if they get married and have kids. I can’t keep up with how many cousins I have and that’s just from my moms side. I have 50 cousins on my dad’s side. So I really can’t keep up with more large extended family if you  exist.

I’ll stay single if you are the type that involves his issues to the other relatives congregation.

Give me a heads up.

My Melanin, My Insecurities…

You might think African women have no insecurities about their skin color then you are in for a surprise.

How African’s perceive beauty is what makes everyone else more sub conscious about their skin color. No one wants to be dark. It has come to that point that when they describe someone dark, they use “she is almost Sudanese black”.

I have got neighbours, had class mates who were Sudanese and they have a complexion close to Purple. Dark purple and imagine if I constantly berated about my skin color how about them? I do it. I just did it now.

Kids are mean. They don’t know their names but identity them as ” Akina Sudanese” (the sudanese Guys) Not by their names and after they have gone I am suddenly overwhelmed by the guilt of not correcting my nephew. Telling him to go ask their names. 

I am in a country where they identify you by your tribe. If you don’t mention your Mother or fathers name then based on your complexion they will unconciously put you on a category. 

(“Anaka Mkamba”)(“she looks like a kamba”) but I grew up and wondered why I felt humiliated and angry when they thought of me as a Jaluo. I wanted to scratch my skin out. I remember joining college and there was this girl so tall, slender and I almost turned lesbian for her. She was so beautiful. She was a Jaluo and I came out of that prejudiced opinion that I had formed. 

That darkness doesn’t mean ugly. 

Brown skin is the popular skin color to be and the pointy. (“Pointy in which I don’t know how it even means what it means. Pointy is what we refer to Interracial babies.) The ones who you know one of their Parents are White or Arab or Asian…etc.

You will find most women just sleep with them foreign men just to have their beautiful babies…and before we know it. We are all going to be yellow skinned. 

The skin issue has gotten to the point of bleaching. Now those that do it are stupid on another level because you will discover they bleached their faces, neck and arms and perhaps forgot about their legs. 

There is this crave to not be dark and I still feel insecure about it but I am slowly starting to love this complexion of mine. 

But like when I say “I am fat” I didn’t mean I was ugly just fat. So when I say I am dark, don’t tell me that I am Still pretty like you need to console me.

Death After the Big Chop?

There is that assumption that once you chop your hair that you are done with the hair business. Done with going to salons or the expensive maintenance.

I have someone in my life that is dedicated to complaining about my worry over the hair.

When I ask her how much box braids would cost and she looks at me as if I cursed the ground under her feet. 

With which she answers. (I do not know. What ? Are you tired of your hair already? You chopped your hair. Forget about the salon.)

While in fact my head is swirling with countless ideas of what to do with my hair. 

What she wants me to keep to one style? Its not why I cut my hair. I didn’t chop my hair because I got tired of hair. In fact I love it and I chopped it for the natural hair. 

This is my journey where I experiment every shit available that’s going to make me and my hair look beautiful without relaxing my hair.

She then begins to mention how expensive short hair is. I want to tell her beauty isn’t cheap or easy. I don’t plan on staying short you know! 

I plan on loving the natural curls on my head because I got them. Patience. 

I am learning.

Learning about the hair products.

I have so Much planned for this head. 

When I had the relaxed hair. I was always worried about my hair getting wet. My hair cutting. Saving for my retouch after every two months.

Having limited styles on my head. Now I am all over Pinterest searching every thing. 

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? 

Co-Existing together in Peace.

So, where I leave. Kenya, Nairobi. South C. As your heading to Bandari Villas. 

As i walk the long dusty stretch home. There is a sight that out stands me and makes me happy and proud. 

I pass a Catholic church and then next to it, I cross the Mosque next to it. 

And there has been no quarrel. There has been peace. They co-exist together. Makes me wonder why some in the world can’t.

Come Back to Reality…

I have been told this line. That I should get my head out of whatever ass I am in. Lol. Though I am curious as to what reality am I not in?

As an Introvert. I am very picky with friends. I do not go out for the sole purpose of making friends. Its draining. I do not like it. I believe friendship that is meant to be will be. The fates have deemed for us to be kindred spirits so why the rush?

My lack of religion. Is the second thing.

I have very different activities that are focused on my phone. You would think I am busy chatting up with my pals but I just ended a 10 year friendship that was draining me…me who made the countless effort to work on this friendship but it kept getting tossed to my face.

Back to my activities. Yes. Activities that has a way of me never getting bored when alone. I yawn when I am in a crowd but I rarely yawn when I am alone. How ironic.

My activities center on using WiFi and if not WiFi my bundles. Thank you Unliminet Airtel for existing.

If I am not finishing up my projects, I am either watching a Korean drama or reading a Japanese manga (comic book). *and no Mangas are not only for kids. In fact they should not be reading Mangas I read.*

I update my stories on wattpad. 

I go to sheshung bar translation to pick out the next book to read. (*Sheshung Bar is a site that has links to various Chinese novel translators from the ancient novels to the wuxia novels and modern novels. Fantastically translated by certain individuals and making people more aware of Chinese literature.*)

If not. I am busy listening to an audio book as I embroider. 

I am bonified spinster prodigy only thing I am lacking is a cat.

As you have seen. I have a deep interest in the Asian Culture. 

No. I don’t find myself caring if Kaleche started going to the gym after she donated blood and was told she was too fat and realized that been fat isn’t healthy or that she celebrated her 40th birthday having lost (IDFC) weight.

Or nor I am I updated to exactly why people got pissed when Baraka sat on the presidents chair. 

Or nor I care about the latest Kilimani Mums hula baloo. I am not a mom yet to actually Care about Kilimani mums shenanigans.

So because I don’t keep up with what entertaines you that means I am not in reality. 

And my friends unfortunately do not share links with such entertainment. I don’t know why perhaps because our interest is centered on other things that do not revolve around the Kilimani mums kirende.

This big world of ours has become a small.

My interest will change with time. Just let me enjoy this out of reality interests that do not keep me bored. Just as long as they do not make better kdramas or write better Chinese novels or create better Mangas and Manhwas and webtoons.

You see Trash, I see Magic.

My room has been said to be a mess. Yes. It is is mess though the definition of a mess to you is what I see as neat.

I do not have dirty laundry. Never. 

I clean my room.

But my room is filled with “trash” because of the novels, books filled with my stories and sometimes I scribble on papers. 

The papers with my attempt at drawing.

My embroidery threads and the cut up fabrics. 

Its my little heaven of magical land with all my favorite things that you so crave to clean but your forgetting its not your room but mine.

I hang on to things and when I get tired of this things is when I’ll throw them away but not on your terms.