MARRIAGE ---- XXX??

Is it for me? 

Well....

For years, I have hated and loathed this institution. Unashamedly so I must say. I have seen what it has done to us, to my family, to us the children. The way, it has scarred us and psychologically damaged us. Oh and my parents. God knows.

Do they hate each other? I don’t know really. Maybe? All I know is that there is a very thin line between love and hate, that you can hate someone equally in measure with the same passion you love/d them. And I think that’s where they are. That’s where they have been for a while, for more than 2 decades actually.

I wish I could write my emotions and feelings out. But I cant. Not that I wont, I just cant. I cant find the words to express myself. Its one of those things. Its hurt. Its anger. Its despair. Its hopelessness. Its helplessness. Its sadness. To the core of my soul and mind. 

The arguments and insults. The hours and hours of cursing and screaming and disrespect. The cheating and the lying. The lack of communication. The allegations. The pushing of each other and us to the very edge of the cliff. The threats. The religion. The anger and frustration. The alcohol.

We have lived with it since I was born as much as I know and even probably longer they have been dealing with this.

It may get worse. I mean, it has only gotten worse with the years. Why they wont leave each other be, I don’t know, beats me. No love lost there certainly. I feel horrible for saying that but it seems that way and has seemed that way for decades.

 Its sad that our pragmatic African beliefs can condemn two people to a life of unhappiness rather than separate definitely happier lives. Unbelievable that religion condemns separation and divorce; or so we are taught, that its sin. Sardonic that society judges divorce as failure instead of viewing it as a weirdly packaged gift of an option.

I will leave this here, after hours of heartache from another episode. But before my ulcer kicks in, I pray that I do better because after all, one can never judge shoes they have never fit in .

Love,

Nyandia.

I am.

Loves, 

I wrote this about three weeks ago while in tears and pain, before I moved back home. I wrote this from the bottom of my heart but couldn't bring myself to post. I wrote this for anyone going through a season filled with teaching and a lot of lack. I wrote this because I know it's darkest before dawn. 

Who am I?

I find myself asking the very same question. To me,

I'm the techie, the computer engineer.

I am the girl who lives her life openly through a blog.

I am the girl who graduated top of her class at 21.

I am the girl who rarely ever drinks and doesnt do drugs.

I am nearly everyone's go to guy. Does that make me a doormat? Hmmm I wonder. Am I a doormat?

I am the introvert.

The tshirt and jeans girl.

I am the girl next door.

I am a model and I am a beauty queen.

I am huge on philanthropy and social work.

I am everyone's helping hand. Yet my Mom asks why I never seem to help myself. Hmmm I wonder.

I am currently habitating on someone's kitchen cum living room floor.

I am the girl with very little to her name.

I am also the girl who sometimes goes without food due to lack.

I am the girl with Kenya fortune 500 company's CEOs numbers on speed dial.

Yet I am the girl who never seems to be able to get help for herself. Why? Boundaries? Limits? Faith? Religion? Hmmm

I am a stupid nice girl

I am the sarcastic and hilarious girl who keeps everyone but herself happy.

I am the girl who wears the most beautiful smile to mask unimaginable pain inside of her.

I am a survivor of physical, psychological, mental, sexual and emotional abuse.

I am the stone they threw away.

I am the one they laughed at and spat on.

I am the girl who cries herself to sleep every other night.

I am the girl with the unknown Connective Tissue Disorder.

The girl who has fortnightly visits with her doctor to update the medication and frequent hospitalizations

I am the girl who hasn't gone a day without medication for the past 5 years.

I am the girl writing this testament

Because

All that is changing soon.

I am the girl about to have a new testament.

About to rise from the ashes;

I am the girl who will be the one to watch.

This girl says:

Watch this space.

It is always darkest before dawn.

I am,

Nyandia.

MY CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR WISH

Dear Diary,

I really don’t know what wealth looks or feels like but I know I’d never want to be like most of the filthy rich people I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.

I took a few months off blogging; because of so much that was happening in my life and I wasn’t yet ready to share, some of it I still am not. But I will, it’s a world of joy and lessons out here for a girl in my shoes.

LESSON 1:

Two or so months  ago I was on my usual contract hunting with some of my powerful ‘friends’ who had promised me one at a private residence. I’d been stringing along to social calls with them and a few others and we were getting somewhere. I badly needed the job cause, money.  For that, I had to take some very uncouth conversation, sentiments and remarks from the fold of them. Knowing that he had been around with some girls I know; some even friends, I was cautiously walking the fine line because he had made known to me and others his intentions with me, nay with my body.

Cut a long story short (for another day though), after my relentless efforts to ensure that he knew I wasn’t interested sexually, he told me to my face that I would never get anywhere without ‘sponsors’ and that that was the actual reason nobody with power and influence was helping me with my projects. That I lacked compromise. Burning red hot with my ears steaming, I exchanged words with him and asked him to see me in 5 years, and I’ll still be without a sponsor. I didn't get the job duh

LESSON 2:

Fast forward to this week. The bae took me to one of his extended family member’s new home in an extremely plush hood. Wait, it’s not even a hood. I was there for an hour or so, didn’t touch anything and even sat outside on the manicured lawn to take it all in. Hours later, Calls come in asking why he had taken me there and this, that and the other. Mind you, the house had at least 7 other visitors who are staying there as the family tours but me! Oh Lord Forbid!

I don’t mean to jump into conclusions but there has been a series of events; disrespectful ungodly and cowardly events that have led to the conclusions: 1. I am not of their social-class lmao whatever that means and 2. We are different nationalities lol xenophobia in my own country

My wish this Christmas:

1. BE HUMANE: if you can’t be nice just give people the benefit of the doubt. Let them prove you wrong.
2. When you have more than you need, build a bigger table not a higher fence

It doesn't hurt to be nice and if it does, in the end it will all be worth it. 

Love,

Nyandia.

KNOW YOUR WORTH: UNDERSTANDING YOUR VALUE THROUGH YOUR HUNGER

We've all been there: through the disrespect, the pain, the victimization, the bullying. We always tend to look for a deeper reason behind it while in all truth, the common denominator is YOU.

You allow people to treat you the way they do. Your energy, confidence and attitude is the currency that others will transact with. I know loads of people who have settled for less, simply "accepted" cards dealt because deep inside, they don't believe they deserve more OR maybe they do, but never amass the strength to go for what they really want, need and deserve.

In my 23.8 years (shit! I’m getting old), I've created my destiny within my career, friendships and community. I have painfully learnt to let go of that which simply doesn’t build me or make me happy. I have learnt to not sweat the small stuff. I have also learnt to appreciate the different types of situations and people that there are and trust me, I have met a loadful. I have learnt to keep my inner circle sacred in each and every step of life.

Mine is a case of throwing a vodka party with the lemons and not making lemonade.

At the Workplace:

This was the most painful of all. The jobs I’ve lost and have had to resign due to disrespect and being picked on constantly. I’ve had those in senior management insult me due to my age and gender: both men and women. Simply as they can’t figure out why and how I get up the ladder so fast, or why someone very senior chose to believe in me and gave me a shot or how and why I happen to be very ambitious yet I am just a girl. More than once, I’ve had involuntary tears fall in front of my juniors or peers after someone senior found it necessary to exercise their power and humiliate and insult me. It took a while but I drew the line. You cannot pay me enough to address my body in front of fellow workers or even to me, you cannot pay me enough to scream at me, hurling insults. It is not worth it and this means a lot coming from a member of a major entrepreneurial community.

Jesus didn’t get crucified for this nonsense.

In Relationships (personal and public)

I've tolerated men and women: friends and lovers who don't appreciate me, who don't value my heart, who take and take -- I've allowed people to not treat me as I'm worth. This is all a matter of self-esteem and my sense of self-worth in the realm of being a woman and a friend. I've made excuses, justified even for them. I’ve been physically, emotionally, sexually, mentally and psychologically abused and eagerly re-entered the game of push and pull with people who clearly don't really value me much at all. And in the end it just chipped away the low self-esteem that got me there in the first place even more.

It took me years of being hungry for love and someone to give a crap, even desperate for it at times, heart aches, heart tramples, misuse, obsessing, infatuating, idealizing, you name it, for me to finally wake up and realize that my most important relationship is the one with myself.

I've learned to embrace self-love.

It took me a health condition, my family's tears and being hospitalized enough times to learn that I mattered more than even the very cheque I was chasing. I may not have been the most vocal and talked back but I learnt my worth and what I brought to the table. I have learnt through pain, tears and blood.

In the words of Sima Kumar, "Be the gatekeeper." Your body is a temple. Your mind is sacred. Be selective. Respect your entire being and be respected. Love yourself and be loved.

Know your value and don't accept being treated in a way less than you deserve. Now, I don't mean to start going out there with unrealistic expectations, demands and a sense of entitlement. I am saying that you deserve to be treated the way you treat others, and vice versa. The minute you negotiate your self-worth and accept less, you say to the universe that you don't deserve any better, and the vicious cycle/pattern begins. 

Above all, know that someone out there who probably hasn’t even met you yet, loves you above and beyond and wishes you nothing but everything you deserve.

Love,

Nyandia.

The Street Boy

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, Christian and I met a boy. (Yes Christian and I decided to grow up and work things out) A Boy. This Boy touched our hearts and souls in more ways than I can possibly explain.

This Boy is a Street boy.

Driving past Jamia mosque in town; which is a favorite of the disadvantaged especially the street families due to the giving nature of the Muslim especially after prayer, Christian parked and started talking to this 10 or 11 year old boy who came at us kindly asking for a few coins to purchase a meal. Christian, whose father is a bishop often has the tendency of talking to strangers and conversing with people most cannot even imagine approaching.-One of the traits I so love about him

The boy explained how his parents passed away and he was left under his Aunt’s care…well, depends on an individual’s definition of care. The Aunt beats him physically, mentally, emotionally and psychologically. The poor boy is scarred. My heart drops. This individual has 4 children and a husband. Every morning at 4 a.m. the boy wakes up, makes his way to the local river and fetches water to clean the previous night’s dishes, make everyone’s breakfast and prepare all their baths. After this is done, he may or may not get a beating and is sent off to join the others at school.

The poor boy is from Eldoret. Miles and miles away from Nairobi.

Once at school, two things will definitely happen: He gets a beating for being late OR he is sent back home and can only return with a guardian. The latter is worse as he finds his Aunt already off to work and the same for his boda-boda business uncle. The poor angel doesn’t know the name of the Auntie, only the Uncle’s surname.

How he ended up in Nairobi?

His friends pressured him and he gave in. Friends like himself, the only people he can possibly relate to. He figured, anything is better than living under the wicked witch. Right? Right? So they began the treck, from Eldoret to Nairobi (almost 300 Miles) often begging for lifts on the way. Once in the city, his friends scattered. They already had experience of the City Street life and he probably was a burden to them.

The boy wished to go home. Yes, he has learnt that anything is better than the Nairobi street life. Even living under the witch! It’s tougher here. He sleeps at a street corner if the building askari will let him which happens rarely. Other times, under the Ngara roundabout. The issue of Kanju chasing them is a constant and the cold and lack of basic needs haunt his gnawing stomach day in-day out. Need I go on?

After this conversation, we gave him something so he could buy some food.

My heart bled for this young soul; For people like his Aunt who take advantage of other’s misfortunes, for the thousands of kids who are abused every day, for the kind of his Uncle who never say a word despite everything, for the people with the ability to help but can't and won't because well, it is none of their business and they are too absorbed in their own lives.

Want to know why I pray to God for wealth and riches? It is so I can help others. I know how it feels, what it means to lack a meal, to wear near-tatters to school and at home, to drag a shoe sole with your foot. I know the feeling of being abused and unwanted. I know the meaning of ‘Victim’.

For this, I look to change my world and touch the hearts of as many people as I can. For this, God has to bless me, so I can bless others.

Next time you’re on the street and its member comes up to you, don’t hear them…listen to them. Open the ears of your heart and listen.

Next time you’re off to lunch, take a street child with you and show them they matter, show them you care. After all, good people still exist.

Love,

Nyandia.

IT CONTINUES…

Dear Diary,

It has been a while. I have neglected you: Not because of much but because I lacked the words to explain a lot of what was and still is happening to me and A LOT has changed since we last spoke. For Instance, I lost my best friend. Turns out people do change, especially when things and circumstances aren’t in their favor at all. I got myself into a situation which I’m still struggling with and my former bestie did all in their favor and power to use this situation in their favor.

I wish I could divulge in detail, I really wish I could. But I think I’ll soon be seeing a shrink. This past month has seen me experience life through so many eyes: Of the so called righteous, of the godly, of the hurt, of the know-it-alls, of the victim, of the fake friends. I have seen betrayal like I have never before, I have known hurt like almost never before, I have known fear like never before. I have been mentally, psychologically, emotionally and physically abused and there’s not much I can do about it. One day, the great reveal shall unveil.

As you probably, may or may not know, I got a new job: just a short term contract to keep me busy as I get some capital to drive my newly-registered company (which I  no longer am sure of being an co-owner as the ex-bff claimed and threatened to take everything I had since we are co-owners) man! Too much drama. I am currently dealing with people who I can’t understand in any way, I’m always anxious and in fear of consequences to anything. In this case, the consequences are verbal and physical abuse.

I almost forgot, oh yeah my parents received a call each asking for my hand in marriage. I should be exhilarating in all mannerisms and sorts of joy but why am I not? I no longer understand and comprehend my own emotions. i am everywhere but nowhere at the same time. I wake up every morning and pray for strength almost every minute of the day and as I write this, I’m on a hospital bed because I finally crashed. Yup, like my HP G6 once did. I have no idea what ‘Friend’ means anymore. No idea what ‘I Love You’ means anymore. No idea what ‘Relationship’ means anymore. So I everyday place it in God’s hands and pray for the Holy Spirit’s strength to find a solution and do what is best for me and my health.

Catch you soon! I Hope it will be of demented laughs and joys, of forgotten pains and healing wounds. Of nothing but abrasions.

Love,

Nyandia.

TIME TO GET A RASTAFARI FRIEND

I think, nay I believe that each and every one of needs a friend who smokes weed. Yes, I said it!! I mean, have you seen how these people are? And not the shadiest of the ‘fake Rastafari’ but the real thing? They’re like probably the most peaceful, most contented people on earth well, next to the monks.

I have one. And Jesus knows the guy keeps me in check on most things in life. He keeps me in check of what matters: the small little things and details in life that matter. Reminds me to live life as much as I want to work too hard and make a dollar, to laugh at the silliest of things even those that seem non-prudent, to basically LIVE.

I look at his life and others like he and they probably are the most hardworking people I know, the peeps can hustle Jesus!! But theirs is a clean hustle, and are the calmest souls I know. They don’t argue, they don’t scream or shout or any of those Harlem behaviors. They believe in Karma and letting her have her way with you. They believe in God fighting their battles and acknowledging that all that happens is his will and in the end it shall be well. They live on the virtue of ‘Do unto others as you’d like them to do unto you’

They really are fun people to sit and listen in on, especially during one of their ‘sessions’ lol this is their ‘Yoga’ they dig deep, at least that’s what they call it and it seems. To us, who are not in session, this normally seems like some crude joke but really come to think of it, a lot of things and facts on life come up as they partake of the holy herb through the ‘puff’.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to campaign for the ‘Holy Herb’ tsk, just to write facts on what I have seen for myself. Yes? Oh, almost forgot, a friend of mine flew in for a wedding. They were a bit late and weren’t there when some announcements were made including one that was very important as you’ll read. Due to the pangs of hunger they were facing, after a while during the reception they went straight for one of the cakes placed on platters in the room. And they had their share. He woke up a day later in hospital oblivious of what had happened the previous night. Poor guy had ingested too much of the ‘Happy Cake’. Yes, that exists. It had earlier on been announced that there was a happy cake and people should be wary when partaking and be keen on amounts. LOL the lesson here from the doctor’s mouth was: ‘Fangi diri yooraga mundu’ lol in mothertoungue. Which translates to ‘Bhang never killed anyone’

Hilarious, Yes? Don’t think so? Oh well, I don’t care.

Love and Humor,

Nyandia.