I wouldn't really classify myself a list maker but once in a while I do indulge in the practice. Today is one of those days. I am loving:-
* My house and filling it up with stuff!! Its so much fun to fill mine and Dennis's abode with love and things and cozy it up. Totally enjoying it.
*counting down the days till I meet my little 'Temo. I really cannot wait to kiss him and tell him how much I love him!!
*a clean kitchen. Its just nicer to cook in.
*seeing Dennis after a long day. Gosh such a good feeling.
* the rocks that Claire brought for me from the Red Sea. Loving them! I also loove the scarf (thanks Claire, you're awesome!)
*The stuff I got for little 'Temo when I went baby shopping. so adorable, I could cry :-) ;-)
*having guys over at my house! (MY house!! unbelievable! we grow up so fast)
*my non stick pan. It makes cooking so much fun
*For colored girls. The movie.
*the islamic call for prayer, I'm hearing outside my window right now. I actually enjoy listening to it.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Losing myself..
The other night I was up at 3 AM, bonding with my son. That's what I do when the insomnia kicks in. I talk to him & I relish in being the only one who he knows yet. I thought about married life. Do I really want it. I mean, ofcourse I do, but I also want to hang on to being my parents' daughter. Memories came flooding in, time really does fly. Just the other day I was 7 years old, sitting on my dad's lap. Now I'm 7 months pregnant with my first son! How did that happen? Actually when is the question. Anyway, I sat there and wept at losing my childhood. here is a short list of some of the things I will miss about living under my parents' home.
*Coming home to mum after a long day of school and later work.
*Watching mum wear her make up (To me, you are and will always be the most beautiful woman on earth mum)
*When dad came from his trips and brought us (read, me :-) goodies. (That was fun!)
*The cosiness and comfort of home. The smell of chapos, 4 O'clock tea, good food
*Gossiping with mum.
*Coming home to mum after a long day of school and later work.
*Watching mum wear her make up (To me, you are and will always be the most beautiful woman on earth mum)
*When dad came from his trips and brought us (read, me :-) goodies. (That was fun!)
*The cosiness and comfort of home. The smell of chapos, 4 O'clock tea, good food
*Gossiping with mum.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Being pregnant and such like things...
This will be the first forum in which I announce to the world what many have already been speculating about. And to borrow Ellen Degeneres's catchy coming out title, Yep, I'm Preggers! I'm exactly 4 months pregnant and the experience has just been amazing. In fact it's been so life changing that I wouldn't be doing anyone any justice by trying to explain what it feels like. But I will attempt to share some of my insights. Hmmm, where do I start? Well, right now I'm experiencing what experts call 'quickening' which is basically the initial baby movements and as you can guess it is beyond exciting.
To know that this baby is alive & kicking & responding to me is just overwhelming. Nothing could be more real and intense than carrying the baby of the man you love. It is the deepest, most beautiful part of our love & seeing Dennis transition into the role of a father is simply divine. I'm glad to be experiencing this with you babe.
Funny thing about being pregnant though is the pregnancy books. I don't know who writes them but that's definetely a post for another day.
Meanwhile keep happy & pray for my little one. I love him/her to bits already & am looking forward to sharing more on this exciting journey of mine.
To know that this baby is alive & kicking & responding to me is just overwhelming. Nothing could be more real and intense than carrying the baby of the man you love. It is the deepest, most beautiful part of our love & seeing Dennis transition into the role of a father is simply divine. I'm glad to be experiencing this with you babe.
Funny thing about being pregnant though is the pregnancy books. I don't know who writes them but that's definetely a post for another day.
Meanwhile keep happy & pray for my little one. I love him/her to bits already & am looking forward to sharing more on this exciting journey of mine.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
watching a man die
Yesterday I watched a man dying. It was at around 8 PM and I was leaving town for home after a date with Cugu. I was in a mat when we came to this huge crowd of people. We didn't know what was going on. We got word that a thief had been killed. Had he been lynched, shot, what? I asked.
Before I could make out the confusion. I saw the convulsing body of a man on the ground. He was lying face up. He looked around 25/26 and had three gunshot wounds on his head. It was a shocking sight. It was terribly tragic too.
A young man would lose his life. He had barely gotten a chance to live out his full potential. It was sad and I couldn't help but think of all the little choices that had led him to that moment.
Lying on the ground, surrounded by people who were clearly relieved(excited even) to have him out of this world.
I thought about his childhood, what made him so hardened that he chose a life of crime rather than be a normal young man, striving for society's acceptance and approval. I wondered. I thought about his family who had now lost a son, a brother, a husband, a father..it broke my heart.
He must have died a few minutes after our mat had passed. But it made me think of the choices we make. The brevity of life. The finality of death.
I pray that I live my life forever conscious of these three things.
Before I could make out the confusion. I saw the convulsing body of a man on the ground. He was lying face up. He looked around 25/26 and had three gunshot wounds on his head. It was a shocking sight. It was terribly tragic too.
A young man would lose his life. He had barely gotten a chance to live out his full potential. It was sad and I couldn't help but think of all the little choices that had led him to that moment.
Lying on the ground, surrounded by people who were clearly relieved(excited even) to have him out of this world.
I thought about his childhood, what made him so hardened that he chose a life of crime rather than be a normal young man, striving for society's acceptance and approval. I wondered. I thought about his family who had now lost a son, a brother, a husband, a father..it broke my heart.
He must have died a few minutes after our mat had passed. But it made me think of the choices we make. The brevity of life. The finality of death.
I pray that I live my life forever conscious of these three things.
Monday, February 8, 2010
an excerpt from Donald Miller's book
Ok so I finally gave myself permission to be obsessed with Donald Miller and his type of wisdom. And how can I have a somewhat blog and not mention him. It's simply unacceptable! Here's an exceprt from his book 'Through Painted deserts'. Haven't actually read it but I'm looking forward to owning a copy. Hopefully very soon. Enjoy.
* * * * *
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.
* * * * *
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.
Feeling lost and out of it..
I spent probably 55% of my day yesterday thinking about work today. Dreading it. Worrying about it. Wondering why I wake up so early to go to a job I don't like. I have to. That's my response to that nagging question. In the western world people have options to live their jobs and pursue careers in art or homemaking. In Kenya, the corporate world is our ticket to happiness (or so we think!). A well paying job in a huge corporation is our definition for success. Never mind how stressful and emotionally draining it can be. But do we have a way out? Is it possible to live a comfortable and happy life of authenticity in Kenya? (please feel free to indulge me)I used to wonder why I couldn't fit into the system. Am I lazy or backward or a coward. I ask myself over and over again.
But I've come to this conclusion, that our search for our authentic selves cannot be deterred by social barriers and stereotypes. I must never be afraid to seek the truth about who I am regardless of how cast out and broke and alone I might feel. Because for me, knowing who you don't want to be is a step towards finding my true self. It may not be clear how my life will turn out but one thing I know for sure is that I don't want to be soulless and lost in this corporate illusion of happiness.
But I've come to this conclusion, that our search for our authentic selves cannot be deterred by social barriers and stereotypes. I must never be afraid to seek the truth about who I am regardless of how cast out and broke and alone I might feel. Because for me, knowing who you don't want to be is a step towards finding my true self. It may not be clear how my life will turn out but one thing I know for sure is that I don't want to be soulless and lost in this corporate illusion of happiness.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Why I don't write
Today I got home resolved to write something. I read on Don Miller's blog that every writer at the end of the day knows that they must devote time to write. It may not be easy or fun but it must be done. And it got me thinking that I should put time aside everyday for that cause. So I throw my self on my bed immediately I come from work and fight the urge to reach for the remote and turn to E! (for the latest scoop on Brad and Angelina's marriage). I lie there facing my bedside clock...'just 5 minutes and I'm heading to my working desk' I think. 5 minutes come and go and still no movement. I'm always more relaxed after a dinner and a shower anyway, I argue with the more practical side of me.
When 10 O'clock reaches I get the courage to admit to myself that another day has come and gone without having written a piece, a poem, anything!. I suffer in the arms of self induced abhorrence for a few minutes, I enter my bed and finally mutter under my breath, the mother of all cliches 'Tomorrow is another day'.
When 10 O'clock reaches I get the courage to admit to myself that another day has come and gone without having written a piece, a poem, anything!. I suffer in the arms of self induced abhorrence for a few minutes, I enter my bed and finally mutter under my breath, the mother of all cliches 'Tomorrow is another day'.
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