Here’s to the Invisibles…

It’s cold outside…..

Everyone can see it’s been raining….

Everyone has something to say about the weather…..

Something good, something bad, a complaint, an appreciation…..


The windows still have dripping rivulets…..


On the window box in one of the ordinary houses along the streets

Sits a lone soul, a solitary soul

That has been watching the rain fall, drop by drop

As it formed little streams along the street…..

Drawing parallels to the many other little drops it hides

This here lonely soul, craving affection

Comparing the flowing streams in the streets

With those flowing down its face…….


The ordinary people living in the street come out, finally

And the little lonely soul watches,

Watches as the children play in the puddles……

As the boys whip out their boards……..

As the girls sit in groups and gossip…….

As the adults sit in the porches and relax……..

Another tear, this time big and heavy, rolls out…..

And splashes on the attic’s worn wooden rocker

Paving way for more….

And more……..


And more……..


This little lonely soul,

Clinging to what once was…..

When it was visible, alive…..

Hoping to be seen…..


Maybe loved……

To mingle……

To feel the rain, the sun, the snow…..

To smell the rain, taste it

In the company of another…..

To join the rest…..


To stop being lonely….




Yes little soul…..

That’s the attic door…..

Another child walks in, a little boy….

The soul leaps……





……*harder wave*……..

……*frantic wave*……..

……*sad sigh*……..

…….*resignation to fate*……


“I’m always gonna be invisible….

Nobody sees me…..

Nobody understands me…….”


What the whole world doesn’t see and understand

Is that this very invisibility

This loneliness…..


was the reason this little soul

stopped being a little boy…..


Life was taking too much

So he took his…..


……and now, it was exacting its revenge.

CTS 2010


Stress Diet


With exams around the corner, I have found this diet to be really great in helping me manage stress and boost my concentration… You have to try it!


1/2 grapefruit

1 slice whole wheat bread

8 oz. skim milk



4 oz. lean broiled chicken

1 c. steamed zucchini

1 Oreo cookie

Herb tea



Remainder of Oreo package

1 qt. Rocky Road ice cream

1 jar hot fudge



2 loaves garlic bread

Large pepperoni pizza

2 Milky Way candy bars

Whole frozen cheesecake, eaten directly from freezer


Helpful Hints:

  • If no one sees you eat it, it has no calories.
  • If you drink a diet soda with a candy bar, they cancel each other out.
  • When eating with someone else, there is no need to count calories if you both eat the same amount.
  • Food taken for medicinal purposes, such as hot chocolate, toast, and Sara Lee cheesecake, never counts.
  • If you fatten up those around you, you will look thinner.



Smiley, Kendra K. (2012-06-28). Live Free: Eliminate the If Onlys and What Ifs of Life (p. 57). Moody Publishers. Kindle Edition.

I Need To Go

“Please explain it to me. I don’t understand.”
“I… I…. It’s rather hard to …. To….. I dunno…”
“C’mon! There’s gotta be something… an explanation…. A reason why you just woke up someday and decided to end this…”
“I told you I can’t tell, really – it just – just doesn’t…”
“Doesn’t what? Doesn’t feel right?”
“Ummm… not exactly…”
“Come on! What’s with the unsure act? You told me it’s something you do, but I’m starting to think you’re using it as a shield… to – to hide…. Look at me! Look me in the eye!” As he said this, she turned her head away to hide her tearing. “LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, jerking her head so she was facing him directly. “Tearing now, are we? Aren’t you a special one…” he mocked, in part to hide his surprise at her state.
“Nick… I – I need to go. Let go.”
“leaving already?”
“Like hell you’re leaving. You’ve still got a lot to answer, THEN you can leave.”
“Nick please…”
“Answer me Toni! Doesn’t what?!”
“Nick, it’s complicated. I already told you. Just… just…” Her voice faded as she felt a huge tear roll down her left cheek. “Please,” she whispered.
Nick let go of her and looked on in disbelief. She was looking at the ground, arms clasped together, biting her lower lip towards the left side. He’d been with her long enough to recognize that look, although recognition and acceptance were two different things altogether.
“Okay Toni, talk to me. Please. Help me understand why.”
Silence, another tear.
“What did I do wrong?”
“Is there someone else?”
Nick was getting desperate. She knew this but… At this question, she actually semi-rolled her eyes through the tears. This was getting hopeless… She couldn’t speak, what could she say anyway? That she didn’t have a solid, speakable reason as to why she was leaving a perfect guy? He would deny that, say he is flawed, but he was perfect for her. Perfect. What would she say? That it was right, it felt – even looked right, but something in her gut told her to walk out? He was desperate, she was frustrated, so she raised her face and looked him in the eye. Directly. The gaze lasted long, then she raised her palm to his cheek oh-so-gently and held his face, using her fingertips to explore it one last time and to commit him to memory. Then she turned and ran, hailing the first taxi she met.
She had told him, in her own way she had.

So I found this when going through my old pieces… I really wish I had finished it. It should have made for an interesting read, but unfortunately, it is all we have for now.

Peace and love

The Wrong One

By Jamike Ekennia-Ebeh (Nigeria)

What do you do when the wrong one loves you?

When the wrong one cares and thinks about you

What do you do when you make the wrong one fall?

When the one you don’t want comes to answer the call

What do you do when the wrong one seems perfect?

And the right one is wrong, no hold, no prospect


What do you do when the wrong one is there?

Always ready and helping and loving and fair

What do you do when the wrong one loves you right?

When they’re ‘right’ in your heart but ‘wrong’ in your sight

What do you do when the wrong one brings it all?

But the right one does nothing to even try to make you fall


What do you do when the wrong one makes sense

Starts making you dream and feeling all tense?

What do you do when the wrong one is right

Do you accept the fates or take them to fight?

What do you do when you love the wrong one too

Because the right one never came and the wrong one loved you…


You can find more of his work on his blog … where I just spent the past maybe 4 hours or so, going over posts as far back as they go (The stalk is strong with me…).

Cheers, and see you soon.

Love and hugs.






So I received this challenge to answer the following questions about me… If you ever were lurking somewhere and wanted to get to know a few more things about me, here’s your chance! A bit lengthy (100 questions!), but yeah. And maybe you can also do it yourself, or challenge other friends.

1:Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

Ehh… Closed, because paranoia is real.
2:Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from the hotel?

Sometimes, if I like the smell of them. And all other goodies that hotels give.
3:Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?

Out, definitely. How else would I get to kung-fu in my dreams?
4:Have you ever stolen a street sign before?

Are they even stealable?
5:Do you like to use post-it notes?

6:Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?

Only when Nakumatt used to have them on the back of their receipts.
7:Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?

Is that bear a teddy?
8:Do you have freckles?

No. But I find them amazing, unique. Probably have wished to have them sometime…
9:Do you always smile for pictures?

I don’t usually know what to do in front of the camera…
10:What is your biggest pet peeve?

People that don’t get it. You know the kind? They just don’t get things, and I am not very fond of repeating things.
11:Do you ever count your steps when you walk?

Count steps, not step on lines in the pavement, count seconds… That’s right up my alley.
12:Have you ever peed in the woods?

13:What about pooped in the woods?

I have contributed to the dispersal of guava seeds in rural Western Kenya.
14:Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing?

Oh yes!
15:Do you chew your pens and pencils?

Another pet peeve…
16:How many people have you slept with this week?

17:What size is your bed?

3 x 6? Campus bed… the one at home is a 4 x 6 (Juliani fans, anyone?)
18:What is your song of the week?

Jesu Rato La Hao by Joyous Celebration
19:Is it okay for guys to wear pink?

20:Do you still watch cartoons?

Cartoons give me life man.
21:Whats your least favourite movie?

Horror films… wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole.
22:Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?

When I was a child, I would run around the compound and imagine I had treasure to hide, but I never really did get round to doing the hiding. So now? I still don’t think I’d know.
23:What do you drink with dinner?

Tea. With dinner, and with everything else. #maragoli
24:What do you dip a chicken nugget in?

Salt… Ketchup… BBQ sauce… Chili… Sweet and sour… Whatever is provided.
25:What is your favorite food?

Wow… For the longest time it’s been rice and beef stew… Maybe nice, dry-fry tilapia with ugali and lemon?
26:What movies could you watch over and over and still love?

Ha! Pitch Perfect. Confessions of a Shopaholic. Any movie with Captain America. and Wolverine!!! Gladiator. Transformers (if Bumblebee asked to marry me I’d say yes.) STAR WARS!! Guardians of the Galaxy. The Age of Adaline. The Notebook. Legally Blonde. Music and Lyrics. Notting Hill. Any other Hugh Grant. The Hunger Games. Any Drew Barrymore. Sweet Home Alabama. Breakfast at Tiffany’s. HSM. OMG and I have not even started on the animations!!! The Book of Life. HT. The Lego movie. Legend of the Guardians. Rise of the Guardians. How to Train Your Dragon. Rio. Madagascar, and its spin-offs. Brave.

***These are actually (mostly) the only movies I watch, over and over.
27:Last person you kissed/kissed you?

Daisy smooched my cheek for a selfie ❤
28:Were you ever a boy/girl scout?

Yes, for 3 weeks!
29:Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?

30:When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?

Last week.
31:Can you change the oil on a car?

I don’t even know where that is done.
32:Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

Cannot drive.
33:Ever ran out of gas?

In a matatu, yes.
34:Favorite kind of sandwich?

Cheesy, and meaty!
35:Best thing to eat for breakfast?

Cornflakes!! Weetflakes!!!
36:What is your usual bedtime?

11:00 pm.
37:Are you lazy?

38:When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?

In whose house? Riswaa!
39:What is your Chinese astrological sign?

40:How many languages can you speak?

English, Swahili, Maragoli, bit of French, bit of Kikuyu… written German, as well? And some snippets of Spanish. Greek too… but very little.
41:Do you have any magazine subscriptions?

42:Which are better legos or lincoln logs?

Everything is awesome…
43:Are you stubborn?

Mules are stubborn like me.
44:Who is better…Leno or Letterman?

I don’t know those people that well.
45:Ever watch soap operas?

Haha! Yes! But not any more… Amongst all the ones I watched, the Brazilian ones were bomb. Shades of Sin, A Love Story India…
46:Are you afraid of heights?

I hide it very well.
47:Do you sing in the car?

I sing everywhere.
48:Do you sing in the shower?

Like I said…
49:Do you dance in the car?

Oh yes!
50:Ever used a gun?

Water gun.
51:Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

Are passport photos portraits? Sometime this year…
52:Do you think musicals are cheesy?

53:Is Christmas stressful?

Getting all the little ones to church and back, yes…
54:Ever eat a pierogi?

What is that?
55:Favorite type of fruit pie?

I don’t really eat those…
56:Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Ha! A pediatric cardiologist, chef, secretary….
57:Do you believe in ghosts?

58:Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Weekly-monthly basis…
59:Take a vitamin daily?

Technically, my body synthesizes Vitamin D daily… or something like that.
60:Wear slippers?

61:Wear a bath robe?

I once had this blue satin-y one… Though it was more of a dressing gown than a bath robe.
62:What do you wear to bed?

A dhera
63:First concert?

Can’t remember…
64:Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

NAKUMATT!!!!! Nakumatt is my happy place…
65:Nike or Adidas?

66:Cheetos Or Fritos?

67:Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

68:Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?

69:Ever take dance lessons?

From Wacuka, in high school. Expert choreographer!
70:Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

If he’s not a doctor, all my medical puns will be wasted!! But then, on a serious note, I don’t know. Doctors get extra points, still.
71:Can you curl your tongue?

It’s in my genes baby!
72:Ever won a spelling bee?

Oh yeah!!! Twice.
73:Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

Story of my life…
74:Own any record albums?

75:Own a record player?

76:Regularly burn incense?

77:Ever been in love?

78:Who would you like to see in concert?

Christafari. Jars of Clay. JOYOUS CELEBRATION!!! ABBA. 30STM. J Monae. P!NK.
79:What was the last concert you saw?

80:Hot tea or cold tea?

Cold tea.
81:Tea or coffee?

82:Sugar or snickerdoodles?

What are snickerdoodles?
83:Can you swim well?

84:Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

85:Are you patient?

Yes and no… it’s very relative.
86:DJ or band, at a wedding?

87:Ever won a contest?

88:Ever have plastic surgery?

I’ve been in theatre during a plastic surgery, but not on the table.
89:Which are better black or green olives?

90:Can you knit or crochet?

Yes to both
91:Best room for a fireplace?

Is there a room like a cosy room?
92:Do you want to get married?

93:If married, how long have you been married?

In my mind? To Bumblebee/Captain America??
94:Who was your (HS) High School crush?

Hey Mo!
95:Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?

No, but that doesn’t mean I’m not passive-aggressive.
96:Do you have kids?

Not yet…
97:Do you want kids?

In high school I wanted 13
98:Whats your favorite color?

Green. Blue. Black. Red. White. Gold. Yellow.
99:Do you miss anyone right now?

100.Something that happened to you in middle school.

8-4-4 equivalent? Upper primary-ish? That’s all vague to me…


So yeah, that’s a bit of me. We’ve barely scratched the surface, but it’s a start.

XOXO, and peace!

Wh… What?

I know that the problem I am having and facing currently can only be solved by God. And yet, I cannot bring myself to ask for his help. Because I feel like He had a role to make sure I do not end up in this place, and he let me down. Because, why did he allow the many unfortunate situations that led up to me being in this place to happen? Because, why do I always end up in the same place? A place I do not want to be in, over and over? A place that is more than just raw emotion, where my cognition is twisted and the morbid and bizarre become cool to me, and I suddenly want to be engulfed in darkness? A place where the only people that can get to me in are Sheeran and 30STM and P!NK and Creed and the Script?

I do believe, I believe that Jesus is Lord, that he has authority over everything, and that he is coming back. I do wait in joyous anticipation (at least when I can afford it) for that day, maybe more so because every tear will be dried and I won’t have to feel like this, and I will rejoice in my Father. Oh yes, how I do wait for that day. But now, I feel like I do not even believe. Like that man in the Bible said to Jesus, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.” His child had been plagued by an evil spirit for long, and he believed that Jesus could cast it out… but he needed his unbelief helped. Isn’t that the situation my funks land me in all the time? And how does the Lord come through for me in such? I honestly feel like I have to be a certain way, to think in a certain way, to be helped. But that also feels like I actually am saving myself, only giving God the ‘glory’, so to speak. Like, yes, I followed religion, read  my Bible daily regardless of what I feel, prayed to my ceiling, and that the following of practices and norms and rituals got me to a place where I feel sufficiently happy with myself, and so I end up thinking that God has indeed saved me from my funky episode. On and on, until the next episode, which will then have me wondering whether or not really God had any role to play in this.

You see, this is my dilemma. I do not feel as though God can relate with me in this place that I am in right now. Yet, I also cannot let go, because, like Peter said, “To whom shall we go Lord, you have the words of eternal life.” So what does a tree that is not sure of its absorption of the living waters go to next? Where does the hungry man that does not see where the bread of life is go? And how does the 98th sheep explain to the rest of the flock why it is always feeling lost, despite the good pasture and watering holes and security it has always received, that it is lost despite not taking any of these for granted? Even though it has never gotten to sheep 100’s level of lost, although maybe that is what is needed, for the shepherd to go out and get it in a way that shows it is the one that was being deliberately looked for? That if, indeed, Jesus is the answer to everything, and his joy is the strength of our lives, then where does the Christian battling depression, anxiety, personality disorders – where does this person go, without sounding like a heretic? How does this person express their lostness, their dismal outlook, their raw, unedited emotion, without uttering a blasphemy? How does such a person stare into the deep, unending abyss, contemplate a state of non-existence, and still somehow fit in the flock? How does such a person, with self-inflicted cuts and bruises, and dead afraid of social interactions, distance themselves from others – blatantly disobeying the exhortation to not give up meeting together, and still be okay? How does a person like this, who is always encouraged to ‘pray it away’, pray? Or to ‘meditate on the Word’, when their mind is stuck in a state of rumination, think of scripture? When all the other well-meaning sheep encourage them to ‘find their comfort in the Lord, for his yoke is easy and his burden light’, yet they’ve been yoked for so long, so heavily, that they are one with the yoke? That they are the burden, at least in their sight? How does such a person ‘die to self’, when they cannot even find the self to kill? When the good book assures them that ‘they died, and their lives are now hidden with Christ in God’… how do they know that this is for certain, for real, when they feel like all they did is die, and that all that surrounds them is dark, black oblivion? How do you trust when you have been consumed with despair? Where do you begin to find hope, when all you are wallowing in is defeat and helplessness?

For Me, It’s You

Who had the audacity to decide which plants were weeds and which were flowers?



There’s nothing I want more than to take up my phone and text  you. To tell you how you are my writer’s block (click here for post). How I cannot write because of you. How everything I put down has a memory of you. How I was a fledgling writer, just starting to put my thoughts out there, when I met you. How I shared everything with you first, how I lapped up your affirmation… How you were the wind in my face on that game drive, the cake I really savored, how my literary sun rose and set with every word of yours. How, one day, I held my musings up to the light that was you, and you declared them juvenile. Half-baked. Not well thought-out, because who cares that famous people have died if we will all die anyway, if our existence is but fleeting? Because my angle was skewed, because all men are like grass and how dare I suggest that some deaths are “more important” than others based on how well-known the deceased was? How dare I?

Well, now, more famous people have been dying of late. And, again, I have been getting reflective, but not because of their fame. I think I know death, I have seen more death in my field than you ever have, maybe more than you ever will even. Yet, I still wonder at the “famous deaths”, because I get to see worldwide and nationwide reactions to the death, and how it manages to galvanize people, and how, for the few days afterwards, all we do it try to find the best in the deceased and in each other and it’s all about tributes and celebrations of achievements and/or mourning what we deem to be too soon. What makes it weird is that now, instead of concentrating on these aspects that had formed the very core of my thinking in earlier times, I concentrate on the justification. I justify it, in my own head, to a fictitious figure, why I have the right to be moved beyond social media condolences, why I have the right to think about what has been and what could have been in that life, what they could have done different, better, and how I can learn from that. Do you see how you changed it?

I find it funny, this thing death. It comes and takes, and takes, and takes. Without second thought, without remorse, without apology. Just *poof*, just like that. And the living are left to grapple with the aftermath, to find a way to survive, to adapt, to keep on keeping on, to hang in there and be there for one another and think and muse such strange musings. But what’s even funnier is one person’s ability to stifle another’s voice, to act as grim reaper to an honest-to-goodness fellow’s voice, even if their naivety is off the charts and may maybe need direction. That, when Pat Monahan (of Train) strains to deliver in “For Me, It’s You”, as he sings of what he would prefer to sing about, to laugh about, to talk about, my thoughts shift to writing and I think that for me, it’s you.

The only difference is that he actually wants to do it…



Her Best Friend


Cold on the outside…

Cold on the inside,

As well…


She placed her palm on the window

And watched the raindrops,

Trickling down,

Forming mini streams,

Collecting at the base

On the other side of the windowbox.


The beauty was amazing

Yet she felt…

Empty, alone, dejected…

She thought she’d shed enough tears,

She wished her reservoir would run dry


There was always more,

For every day,

Every situation,

Every little thing –

Or lack thereof…

She thought it was weak,

Pathetic, even.

But every time she was

Among people, her friends even,

She felt it acutely.


She’d never match up

She’d never amount to anything.

They were all so accomplished,

So achieved, driven…

She was surely just a shadow,

A gnat in their sight.

So she shrunk back

And withheld…


A little mouse

Watching life from a little hole

In the wall – her hideout

Wondering if, when

She’d break out of her little shell…


Taking a stroll out in the rain

Hoping it would hide her tears…

Hooded to inrecognition.

She bumped into a wall,

A wall of a person.

He promised to be solid ground,

To be there for her…

To hide her tears, at first

Then dry the reservoir later…

By and by, as time passed

She could raise her head,

Look crowds in the face,

Feel like someone

Without caring what someone else thought…

He taught her independence,

Took her by the hand.

Into sunny meadows he led,

Taught her to be happy,

Taught her to live.



It was cold outside again…

She sat at her windowbox

Looking at the raindrops


On the inside,

This time around

Was the warmth that came

With the satisfaction of knowing

She had a best friend.

Sat, Nov. 6, 2010

My Writer’s Block

What exactly does it mean to have “writer’s block”? Many people have said that they have experienced this, that this is the reason for their not putting out any work… Does this phrase have a specific, fixed, direct, immutable meaning? Well no, of course not, but then again that question was dumb. I just googled it, and apparently, there’s even types of writers block. TYPES!!!

I would say I have been experiencing it but then that wouldn’t be entirely true. I have had content to write about. I have written all about everything, and then so much more. The only problem is, everything I write has boiled down to one topic. One. I could be writing about the beauty of the wind in my face on a game drive, and then you become the wind. It could be about how I had the most beautiful cake in the whole wide world, and suddenly you’re the cake. It could be about the beauty of the views I have of the sunrise and sunset from my room, and then there you are, my sun rising and setting with you.

Truth is, nothing I churn out is untouched by you. The thought. The idea. The memory of you. You are everywhere. Usually, I wouldn’t mind. But I want to write, I really do. I want to put all this beauty around me to paper, and not have it infused with yours. I want to capture the sights and sounds, and not have them filtered through you. You are forbidden fruit, and it has to stay that way.


Hey people!

Yes, it has been a while, buuuut, I am now done with what has probably been the craziest exam period of my entire life… And I’m still alive! Ha! God is great!

So, news item number two, and the reason for this post…. I have a new site! It’s still here on wordpress, and ehh… I created it because I felt like it would be weird to put everything together over here and have sijui tabs and stuff (or it could be because I don’t know how to, or because of my OCD categorizing things….) but it will mostly have insights on life, spiritual things, you know? And then this one will have arts – written, crafts, hair, the non-serious things. This makes a lot of sense to me, by the way… Plus, I had another blog, but it was under a different user, and so I don’t want to keep signing in and out to post here and there, so that content moves to seshthinks (that’s the new site) 🙂

So yes, both sites will be active :). Double joy! And… (I just forgot what I was going to write there). But catch me on 🙂

See ya!