Herispeak

One gets tired. You know...of being asked the same stupid question over and over again. Girl (That's me). Let's make that Beautiful curvaceous girl. So yes...girl meets boy (Some guy who is working hard to get beautiful curvaceous girl to like him. Boy asks girl "You are so beautiful (BUT OF COURSE)...and you are such a nice, wonderful woman (Yes I am)...So why are you still single? Hurrmph! Why am I single? Why is beautiful curvaceous...might I add delicious girl single? Why...Oh why is she? Let's ask God. Day I Me: Why is beautiful curvaceous delicious girl single? God: Uhh......give me a minute I will be right back on that one. Me: *Waits endlessly and finally walks away. Day 2 Me: Say God.... God: Yes beautiful curvaceous delicious girl? Me: Am still waiting God: For...? Me: Your answer? You know...for the question some guy keeps asking. God: (Playing all naive)..which question again dear? Me: God...come on....I was here yesterday. I know you ...

The room is filled to capacity. Men and women of various ages and backgrounds have gathered this early Saturday morning with a common purpose in mind. A burning desire to write…and to write well! The Creative’s Academy at Daystar University’s Valley Road campus is in full session. The frantic movement of pens, keen eyes trained on the guest speakers, peals of laughter every now and then. These are some of the sights and sounds emanating from the room.  The participants look normal…your every day regular guy or girl…but trapped in these minds are stories and narratives of the future..dying to escape these intelligent minds. Stories that will burst forth in splendor. Stories that will demonstrate the mastery of the written word…stories that will touch individuals and capture the attention of nations. In this room are East Africa’s next literary stars. Literary giants of their time! Master wordsmiths! This is my first session and within the initial 10 minutes , I am filled ...

The giant is me and no other.  For years, I have done one thing successfully….year in and year out. I have added more and more weight to my frame. Compared to my former self…I am indeed a giant. I know precisely when it started. I know precisely why it started. It is not a complex reason or one that is even justifiable.  I met and started dating this guy in 2001. His name was John and when I fell in love with him…I fell HARD. We met at an IT Conference. He was one of the panelist and I remember spending most of the time staring at him. When the conference was over, I walked up to him and asked him a question that could have been answered by any other panelist. In fact, he even referred me to someone else. It didn’t matter though…I walked out with a smile having told him where I worked and exchanged email addresses. Those were the good old days of Yahoo Chat. The following day, I got an invitation to add him as a friend. As they say, the rest is history. I learnt later...

I can feel it. I don’t have to close my eyes or reach deep inside me to feel it. It’s right here on the surface, close by. Close enough for me to touch, yet I cannot. On the days that I do not feel it, it is simply because I get too caught up in the present. I see the pain, I see the failure, I see the lack, I see that which I cannot provide. I see that which I cannot offer.   I see too the looks from people around me. Some are looks of pity, some are empathy, some are sympathy, some apathy pretending to be empathy. In some of the looks, self pride stares back at me and I see the mockery deep in their eyes. I suppose I cannot blame them. Perhaps life has been kinder to them and they have made better decisions than I. But then, perhaps they really are just filled with the pride of life.     It will not last this darkness. I know this. What I wonder however is whether I will survive this. I know I must but will I? Do I have what it takes to ? Only I can answer thes...

Taking care of her daughter Zuleika was an easy task. Zuleika's mother enjoyed it immensely. No, she ADORED doing it. Zuleika was a pleasant little girl. Chubby yet not fat, with beautiful round brown eyes and deep dimples on each side of her cheeks. Her mouth was love-shaped and naturally lined as if someone had taken a black liner and tattooed her lips. She had long, naturally soft hair which was always neatly held or plaited. Her mother took great care of this. When she smiled, the world seemed to brighten up. It was as if she was the most important person in the room. Well, to her mother she was.   Zuleika was the kind of child who would tempt you to steal her just by flashing one of her smiles. One was immediately compelled to smile back, even the harshest or most severe of persons. Like Mrs Migwe.   She lived a few houses away from Zuleika’s home in the heart of the small village of Mukeha. Everyone avoided Mrs. Migwe. She was a widow and a loner. Her children h...

She stared out of the window, with tears running down her face. Oblivious to the stares from other passengers in the No. 46 City Hoppa from Kawangware, she was lost in her own thoughts….in her own pain.  Her rural home in Nyeri seemed so far away. She felt misplaced in this big city of Nairobi. This thought immediately reminded her of her parents. If only they were alive. The HIV virus took both of them years ago. Wacu barely remembered her mother. She had a vague memory of her and her maternal grandmother had brought her up since she had been only 5 years old when her mother died. Wacu’s other siblings had remained with her paternal grandparents. Luckily, they had lived only half an hour apart from each other and had gotten to see each other often. Nderitu now lived and worked in Mombasa. Whilst Mumbi was now married and a stay at home mum. She and her family of 4 lived in Nyeri.   Of her father, there was nothing. It is as if he had never existed. This was underst...