Monday, 14 September 2015


 This post has taken me a while to write. Why? Well, I guess it’s because it’s personal. Most writers fear leaving a trail of truth in their words that could be traced back to their real lives. It leaves you exposed, and thus opens a door for criticism. I am listening to Jessie Ware- Say You Love Me. Goodness, this song tears up my emotional tendons- if such a phrase exists. (Random, I know!)

So, let’s begin peeling off my thoughts. It is amazing to fall in love. Not because it makes you feel safe, happy and non-lonely, but because it reminds you of your self-worth. This applies to the ones who get into the right relationships. Fine, so maybe there is nothing like right or wrong relationships. But some people get unlucky when they end up with demons for partners. Sorry if that’s you. Anyway, this post is not about how everyone should be slow dancing to Ed-Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud song (But it’s such a good song though).

Remember when you had a crush for the first time? How did it feel? I remember having butterflies for days just by seeing the person’s throat jolt while he swallowed. I am weird like that! Moving on…. My mind was paralysed, rationally! I thought that he must have been the first flawless human being to exist, apart from Ryan Gosling.  Confusion got real when the crystallised perfection began disappearing. The ‘spark’ was gone and the rush that came with spotting his silhouette was gone. This is when love seemed hazy. I thought that a crush would result in long term feelings of affection and excitement. Now that I am older, my rationale back then can be deemed as plain STUPID! But one thing I realised after the crush faded was that my confidence seemed to dwindle too. It’s not like we had ever spoken or anything. He would throw a glance my way once a week; maybe not directly at me but at my direction-ish. I didn’t understand how my infatuations could possibly be linked to my confidence. I pondered over this one recent weekend over a large bowl of ice-cream and of course ‘The Mindy Project’ drama!

It hit me. I was linking my happiness to the feelings that came when I thought of myself as someone’s significant other. That is why my past relationships were so hopeless. How could I think that I was a better person when I was with someone else? It took time to love myself. That involved dire intervention from the gym and a revamp of my wardrobe. Happiness is not what you look like but how you perceive yourself. I was not happy with my weight. I did not desire to be skinny but I often ran out of breathe after taking 10-steps uphill. My sense of fashion was poor and I rarely paid much attention to my attitude too. I would exude too much negativity towards myself, unconsciously. I had forgotten that happiness cannot be created by a union of two people. It comes along when you learn to accept yourself and treat yourself right. If you know certain foods are not good for you, then you have to love yourself to prioritise your health rather than cravings. If you wear skimpy clothes just to attract someone else’s attention, remember that you are demeaning your self-worth.  In other words, until you learn to see yourself as enough, you will never be satisfied no matter what relationship you conjure yourself into. You will constantly enquire from others if you look good enough or wait to see how many likes your posts get to rank your face value. Be you, love you and enjoy a bowl of kit-kat-as I am about to do! 

Sunday, 23 August 2015


I read articles written by avid writers and I turn green with envy. How are they able to marry simple words to create captivating stories? When do they get these inspirations? Could it be the many times they plunge themselves in volumes of literature? How do they play around with simplicity to form art through writing? If I was brave enough, I would make an effort to attend one of their book signings and have my curiosity quenched. Maybe if I engage them I will receive the wave of energy that passes through their veins as their hand meets paper.

Some women, sadly, don’t understand the fascination with enthusiastic readers. I used to be one of those. I never could get how someone could turn down a shopping date to curve themselves in their blankets and undress a story, page by page. I was not born with talent, at least not any I know of. Thank goodness for acquisition of skills. I first gained interest in books when I discovered how intelligent women often buried themselves in books, either to add on to their pool of knowledge or for simple entertainment. I did always admire these type of women. They rarely looked at the fashion columns in magazines, but dived straight into the feature stories. They became a bubble of excitement whenever they came across a best-selling novel, whether romantic or fiction. They beamed when a person with similar interest in books approached them. They would get lost in their own world as they discussed characters I had no clue about and analysed writing styles used by authors. When jargon were thrown around, a tint of shame and sadness would always cloud my face as I just sat there most times, nodding my head in unison with the rest to remain relevant as an active participant. Oh, did I mention this was when I joined a book club with no clue whatsoever how much books could emotionally affect readers.

When I met Kate, I finally understood the power a good book had on its readers, especially when it came to self-motivational books. It was the Bible of depressed people who would go through transformational change just by setting eyes on the first chapter. I requested Kate to supply me with books that would charge my interest in literature to see if my fate lay in writing. My Oh My! The first book I was handed was Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi. Of course I was sceptic of the content at first since I was not much of a feminist. In fact, I was ashamed of admitting that I had never heard of Chimamanda until I read her book. My mind sipped into the pages of the book, feeling exposed with each page I turned. I would have been a tint away from turning pink, if I wasn’t of a dark complexion. All I needed was a passionate activist with an objective mind to get me to understand the essence of fighting for opportunities for women in a patriarchal world. On learning the possibilities that would be present if women were embraced as much as men, appreciated, honored and empowered, we would be living in a much sane world. Now I am just digressing, It primarily focuses on racism in America. Well I looked at it from a feminist aspect. 

Kate did not stop here. She would drop off more books at my house over the weekend as she enthusiastically gave me a synopsis of each book. Her eyes with each narrative. Just as she had predicted, my mind was soon lost in the words of the authors, leaving  me hanging onto the promise each character made in the books, or empathising with the victims in the narrations. It all began making sense. You get plunged into the author’s hypothetical world. You thirst to reach their point of enlightenment in a world they have brought to life, knowing very well it will all end as you draw near to the last chapter. You soon begin to see the author’s perspective on life and before you know it, you want to help them write sequels!

Authors have the gift of undressing your thoughts and clothing you with new imagination. They get you hooked and somehow tie you to the pages with words put together in an artistic way. I am yet to get a fancy way to make you understand what I mean. Some endings are great, some you hate and if they get you too emotional, you slam the book into a wall hoping hidden chapters will fall off and satisfy your crave for a happy ending. 

After this, I honestly don’t know what to write. I love books now and I hope to write captivating volumes one day. So, I will keep writing until I turn into a fine writer. Until I get the readers raging or smiling. Join me on my journey.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015


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Yes, as paradoxical as it sounds, it's the truth. Why? The most beautiful people see the most imperfections in themselves. As a result, ugly screams out at them when they stare at the mirror. For as long as someone sees themselves as 'unattractive' they will forever exude low confidence, an ugly trait. That one ripe pimple close to the visible scar that reveals the contours of a face that could be fixed is where the problem begins. 

We may be a product of society, but we are individuals. Distinct features, characteristics and habits distinguish us from each other. Society taught me what beauty is. But i had to redefine it for myself. You want that celebrity's flawless skin? Have you seen her without make up? Oh that long hair makes you cringe when you look at your kinky thick hair? Have you seen her take off the extensions each night as she lays her real body to rest? They all shade off the fake when they are alone. 

Beauty is vanity, but so is life itself. Nothing lasts forever, not even those perfect legs, deprived of any childhood scars from riding those dang bikes down the hill. We all have a life to live. Our lives. Always waiting on society to accept you is like waiting for pigs to fly. It will never happen. Don't you get it? This same society sets goals and legitimate means to attain these goals. Yet, some people are barred from reaching these means because they are parallel to what society would prefer. 

It is ugly to watch a beautiful person subject themselves to someone's definition of beauty. It is ugly to watch a beautiful person immerse themselves in the world of plastic only to reduce their perfect imperfections to pure imperfection. It is ugly to have to make a beautiful person understand how beautiful they are. Create your own pedestal and purpose to attain your own goals. 

Ugly is a label like many other words that we ought to rid this world of- like the word bitches, which I will not get into right now. Ugly is a word used to victimize the beautiful souls that seek to move from mainstream living. The ugly people are the ones who appoint themselves as the judges of looks. The ones who have a comment for every attire that doesn't look appealing to them. The legs that are too thick when they shamelessly flaunt their toothpick-like form. The ones who flip their weaves, which we all know are weaves! The ones who tell you to get that mole on your lower lip, 'fixed' yet they use eye pencil to draw one on their own faces! The irony of life.

Yeah, let us leave it here. you get my drift!

Sunday, 9 August 2015


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We often remember injustice done to the women but at times overlook injustice eluding the men. I always imagined that the women had it rough more than the men,but the men too have experiences they'd wish to forget.

It was one of those long nights when the random talks started dying down and confession session began. Fred decided to jump in with his, 'I have bills running me down,' intro. Suddenly, more confessions were flooding in, as the candles slowly burn out and the light breeze is keeping you glued to the chair as it catalyses anticipation to hear the beans spill. 

It was interesting hearing of marriages that we all knew were on the rocks being confirmed. But when Andrew broke down after whispering the words every man dreads to speak out, 'my wife treats me like a bank account'we all went silent. It wasn't the statement that invited the awkward silence but the realization that marriage keeps losing its value, day by day. Too some, it translates into a wise business investment and others, an easy fix to the piling pressure to commit so as to appear progressing by society.

The men are not appreciated as they ought to be. They are born with the inherent nature of sole provider, but it is also important to appreciate them for working hard to sustain the family, together with their lady of course. Andrew's drained eyes played witness to his exhaustion, rising up early and getting home late. Grinding all day long, only to be greeted with financial demands, diapers that were supposed to be picked up  and an unhappy son who demands gifts. The man of the house cannot believe his daughter just turned two, when the father is fixated on her tiny form when she first left the hospital. He does not get as much time as he would wish to watch his daughter grow.

Andrew represents the dads that would love to come home to a kid that is genuinely happy to see him and not busy compiling a list of demands for the coming week. A warm welcome from his wife would be nice, rather than a cross look that screams out 'you forgot to pick up the diapers'. 

Men are naturally the bread winners in man homes, yet we don't pay two sense to their needs sometimes. Let him wake up to go grind as a happy man. A thank you always would be a start. Pick up that phone and thank your father, husband and friend. Not all men set out to break hurts. Many are building homes, and saving communities, running economies and slashing that grass, to keep their family surviving. Give them credit for their effort. They do try!

Sunday, 2 August 2015


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It is startling to witness incidences on the news reporting fathers opting to get intimate with their daughters. That is beyond retrogressive behaviour. It is unheard of, at least in the era I reign in. The acts have been taking place for quite some time, according to sources, and the culprits, being the legitimate fathers of these young women are not about to quit these habits. 

I grieve for the daughters about to be born into such families. It is not everyday you witness a father copulate with his flesh and blood, more so his daughter. What happened to sex education among marginalised communities? The illiterate members who find no shame nor error in defiling their daughters ought to be served justice, coupled with fines and be forced to attend sex education classes. As harsh as my proposal appears, it is my firm belief that most cases in relation to sexual defilement of children by their family members branches from past customs, yet to be fully shunned by the respective communities. If this fails, then the government's intervention ought to drive the point 
e that are thought o be defending them. 

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It lends the question, where are the mothers while all this is taking place? Can this be attributed to poor marital relations? Even so, to what extent are these marriages being trampled on that daughters turn to become target? There appears to be underlying issues that lead to such atrocities and are to be dealt with accordingly. 
But i fear this could be swept under the pile of other 'non-issues' that impede growth in this country. 

Wednesday, 22 July 2015


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I recently came across an article on the lifestyle section of a mainstream newspaper that encouraged women to spy on their future husbands before declaring their vows. The disturbing bit of all this is the disrespect modernisation has lured in, disguised as evolution. Spy on your fiance? My grandmother would turn in her grave if she ever heard of such a proposal. Yes, trust needs to be bridged on so many levels. Relationships, both professional and romantic are suffering. However, when did prying into another’s life secure any relationship? In fact, I believe it turns you into an all-time loony.

I do not condone any sort of lie, whether a white lie or otherwise. However, it is my belief that relationships are built on trust. Maybe it’s my naivety barring me from getting the bigger picture but why stay with someone you don’t trust? Take a professional relationship for instance. If a customer is sceptic of a certain product or service, they opt for another alternative. So why not do the same? If you are 50/50 about your partner then find another one. I know that it’s easier said than done, but will you be snooping on your ‘babe’ all your life?

Besides, some people go overboard and intentions shift. You might have initially being spying because you suspected they were keeping another ‘honey’ warm, but then it goes too far when you use that as an anchor to feel secure about your relationship or reason to bring up  random fights. There is nothing as unattractive as an insecure partner. They will always be hovering around you and in the end suffocation could terminate the relationship.
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This is why trust seems to be dwindling. No one takes time to build a friendship which would eventually grow into a relationship anymore. Everyone is in a rush to be committed. By nature, humans are needy creatures; no man is an island. But what’s the rush? Take your time, study someone- their good and bad habits-engage in family history to be sure that no random lineage curses linger on. Spying will never secure a happy home. It only keeps your mind grinding on possible affairs that are non-existent costing you a relationship.

I empathize with the broken hearts that have vowed to never trust another. But in all fairness, not everyone is the same. It’s a tale we’ve heard too many times but truth be told, we are bound to meet cruel beings that are out to use and abuse tender hearts. Then comes along the angels sent to bless and heal the scrapped ones. What happens when they meet a hostile situation, a past lover’s mistake? Why does he/she have to be the one to pay?

If you can’t trust them, then you don’t love them. It’s that simple. 

Thursday, 9 July 2015


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When I scroll down social media pages and land on a feature article stipulating struggles of the girl child, I cannot help but pause and scheme through the article. The story I came across in particular presented a unique angle, in that, the young women of Mandera county are not only compelled to deliver while at home, but are shunned by the family when they fail to. it beats logic why we are purposing to evolve yet we ignore such impediments clogging our development graph.

Over the weekend, I made a new friends, Halima (not her real name). On realising that she was  a product of Mandera county, I engaged my interrogative mode. She was quite open about her upbringing, where waking up at 5am to trek in search for water had become a routine. This would prick her, especially because her brothers were beinn educated as the women received informal education from the older women. Truly at times some traditions are retrogressive. The family never saw the essence of empowering the women due to punitive fears of being dictated by them.


Halima proceeded to narrate a sad ordeal of how she witnessed her cousin, Fatma, bleed to death while undergoing delivery. Her father was reluctant to take her to a hospital, despite the stifling fact that it was barely a 20 minute walk from their home. After struggling while in labour, due to excessive pain, Fatma gave up the fight. Halima succumbed to depression as she was quite close to Ftma, often seeing her as her blood sister. Following Fatma's death, Halima found herself loathing the customs she once honored.

Finally, Halima's father gave in and sent her off to her aunt's place in Nairobi, where he hoped that his daughter would recover from the rattling ordeal and get back to her senses. Thank goodness for evolving regions which paved way for Halima's road to education. Her aunt, a primary school teacher, often rescued other girls from harsh customs that often oppressed them, and put them through school. Lady luck found Halima as she was educated until college where she studied law, and is not back to her home town, advocating for abolishment of decaying customs.

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Friday, 3 July 2015


So, I hope these figures will shock the rest of you as I was. I get how substance abuse is on the rise but it's baffling to have a median age of drugs and alcohol related cases beginning from the young age of 10. My challenge today is to enlighten the drug users what they are getting themselves into. This is not to guilt-trip anyone, just adding to the pool of knowledge, I guess.

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First of all, the fact that male tobacco smokers have a low sperm count is a red light. Yo, I want my generation to procreate and fill the whole earth as it was always intended, but that could impede population growth in the next twenty years. Oh wait, but for those who prefer going bald, then keep smoking until hair loss hits you, hard.

My blood boils at a high temperature of are you frigging kidding me when I am smacked with the, ' ... on average, smokers lose 15 years of life and kills 1,200 people a day...', do you care to know fact! Ayayayaya, can we get serious about our health, please. Are you aware that more people die from smoking than from AIDS, car accidents, suicide, murder and fires? And if you did are informed, why are you ignorant of the fact that four out of five lung cancers are caused by smoking?

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Now, on to the 7million Kenyan polite alcoholics. Society pleads your case every single time, urging us to relay empathy for your unfortunate downward spiral. Let's just be honest, no one really shoves the drink down your throat. The only sympathy you are getting from me is the truth. Keep on tasting that liquor at every first, 'it has been a while...'instance. Just don't forget that excessive alcohol can suppress some body functions and, in extreme cases result in death. Now, how excessive is excessive? Hmmmh, have the dark circles began forming round your eyes, yet? Don't forget that ant aging cream cannot save you from premature aging. The next time you crave that high feeling, please don't forget that psychosis is as real as sunrise.

Not all sinking ships can be salvaged. Be informed of the consequences of the decisions you make.
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Sunday, 28 June 2015


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 The recent revelation of child mums down at Kisumu reduced me to tears. Poverty and persistent backward traditions are impeding teenage girls from pursuing their future. Early marriages tops the list of challenges facing the girl child in this area; 43% to be precise. As a consequence of extreme poverty,some parents subject their teenage daughters (aged between 15-18 years) to early marriages.

These marriages are imposed on the girls as a means of reducing the number of dependents, or by proscribing her the role of a bread winner and compelled to sacrifice her dreams of completing her education. With early marriages comes early pregnancies, where the young wives are expected to bare children in exchange for monetary support for their families back home. Children end up raising children.

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Some girls are lured by men, as old as their fathers, who use goodies as bait. Shame became too heavy to bear for a certain girl, aged fifteen, who admits to having a boyfriend primarily to help meet her financial needs. She became fed up of the state of poverty that rocked her homestead as her mother could not afford to buy her essentials such as sanitary towels.

A headteacher at a public school in this troubled county expresses his distress at the escalating rate of early pregnancies witnessed at the institute. He reveals that during the recent teachers' strike period, 10 teenage girls fell victim to early marriages and pregnancies. Teachers took to the streets expressing their woes with unsatisfying wages. This left the girls wandering away from the school compound, some being forcefully married off, even as second wives.

Physical abuse in child marriages is growing, where the young wife is forced to labor hard by engaging in manual as a prescribed role of a wife. Once again, a girl's dream is tossed aside, her hues reduced to nothing but a nagging whine. Sadly, some child mums end up raising their children as single parents after fleeing from battering husbands who mark their bodies with bruises.

When poverty coerces a girl child into trading her dreams for pennies, it reflects a decaying society that has failed to protect her and her hopes of leading a life equal to that of the opposite gender. If she dares to reject this role, she is labelled a deviant and faces stigmatization from family and the community at large.

Rescue her, please!

Friday, 26 June 2015


At the risk of being labelled naive, I admit that it was not until recently that I got a clear understand of the ongoing devolution process.(like every youth in Kenya is well conversant with the term-do no judge me!) The irony of all this is that the media played no part in contributing to my new pool of knowledge. It took my friend five minutes to interpret . The government fish for such complicated words when relaying simple information to the public; they should really think of looking into that if the information is intended for every common mwananchi. 

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The devolution process is intended to spread out power to the local government; housing a decentralized power system. It explains the 47 county governments. This appears to be quite beneficial seeing that it provides enhanced checks and balances. For one, it encourages public participation which ensure leaders are held accountable for service delivery. With active participation from the citizens in the governance process, quality of leadership is expected to improve (at least that's what we are hoping for, though at this point I have more hope in seeing a  rabbit dancing to the yoga song  than that happening).

Secondly, with a decentralized government, funds will be distributed according to county needs. This saves the country sums of money lost in ghost projects since the local goverments will be held accountable for expenditure of respective counties.(I long to see that happening, but oh well,dreams are valid). And have we forgotten the growing public debt and the pending wage bill??

 Now I tried interpreting the Devolution Working Paper Series but Yawa! The media should chambua that document for us! But who am I to tell the media what to do? I hate on the media too much yet they are my prime source of information. Pardon me oh people who earn salary through the brown-envelope journalism system. Najua tu Mpesa (pun intended). 
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I have to commend the government for the developed agricultural sector and the roads rehabilitation process; even though the floods dealt thoroughly with some roads-potholes. (This is why Lamborghinies cannot be driven in Kenya- that and plus our red hot economy most times seems to highly favor the elite). 

Devolution does have it's downside. It is quite expensive to initiate. Seeing how we have to maintain the leaders' lifestyles off our pockets in the name of tax, I wonder to what extent the devolved governance can be actualised before the funds disappear into some rabbit hole. I need to travel a bit, being in Kenya all your life sometimes numbs your dreams of ever seeing a corrupt free government. (going off topic, again!)

Moreover, Kenya falls short of capable governors and sufficient support from the central government. Case in point is the recent internal wrangle involving county governments and the national government to attain national revenue. Sometimes I watch news while munching on popcorn- it is an unfolding telenovela. The popular impeachments which set the agendas aback are becoming too much! (Just remembered the Hii Ni Drama Video- suits the situation).

Now you know what I know.

Monday, 22 June 2015


I pray to live long enough to impart iron age wisdom to my daughter. To engrave in her palms the value of recognizing ones self worth. I wish to extricate her from the grasp of an insecure society that chooses to stamp the label, 'imperfection'  on whomever dares to deviate in an attempt to defend their individuality. the silence that was once mistaken for submission will reflect dignified consent from the other sex.
When she sees a slim lady on TV, she won't develop a blank stare of pain, deeming herself as flabby but rather curvy. She will grow to learn that hazel eyes don't draw attention fastest but rather the mastery of ideals that add on to the pool of knowledge. Blond silk hair will not raise the value of a woman or the shape of her butt. Light skinned women will not be fetching higher ranking on the 'she's hot' radar! Looks will no longer be equated to asset value.
 Meaningless talk will be intolerable to her ear because she will learn the value of time.
Once she comes into this world, I'll teach her that it is not about beating a man but playing fair in the same field. She will never experience discrimination based on her gender because the word marginalised gender will not be existing.
I will not get engulfed in paper chasing and neglect my duty as a mum, not if I can help it anyway.

Thursday, 18 June 2015


The thirst that MPs now depict is harsh! Following the scandalous ruling by the High court that CDF mullah would be handled by the Governors is driving these mafisi cray! Quite frankly, their defence which is clearly comes out as plain-white greediness, is that the funds can be entrusted to the MCAs since they have handled past county projects with a squeaky clean credible record of completing projects. Let's illuminate the fact that ever since CDF scheme started, more illiterate wanna-Be's aspirants have popped up, caressed our dry throats with empty promises of development, only to leave us high and dry. 

The once hopeless Dagoretti market has taken a plunge into a new low. The once pothole- infested road was a nightmare for most motorists. However, the unruly matatus still dominate the roads, utterly frustrating other motorists. The mathree drivers' arguments backing their unruliness holds water. The MP who vowed to designate bus stops during the construction of the road clearly had amnesia as he was carrying out his kifunga macho development project. By failing to provide an alternative location for the market traders has forced them to trade on the roadside causing traffic of people and cars. 

Don't get me started on the current cholera outbreak threatening to cripple the Kenyan population. My worry with this whole setting is the toxic fumes clouding the market air posing a serious heath risk to the neighboring residents and the pedestrians who stop to buy some greens on the way home. I wonder if the MP ever cruises by and rolls down his dungeon dark tinted windows to observe the state of affairs of the place he once considered home before upgrading to the good life!

But then again, that is not his problem anymore, is it? Oh no, our dear waheshimiwa are caught in a political affair of musical chairs as everyone tries to prove to be the Alpha in their respective political parties. Why do we make the same mistake and contract selective amnesia when the time to vote approaches? 

It's about time Kenyans start making wise decisions on who they hand their vote too or tears and whining will be our tune until the ends of days.

Saturday, 13 June 2015


A story recently broke out that a 47 year old man enticed two young girls with a Ksh 5 biscuit and defiled them in Mororo, Tanariver county. My oh my! This raised so many questions. First, few details have been provided surrounding the incident. For example, did the girls know this man who defiled them? And if not, then what were the children doing unsupervised long enough to be lured and abused?

These cases of child abuse are becoming as rampant as the DickSON-Nyeri incidents.  It's a reflection of a decaying society. The economy may be making an attempt to improve, but ethically, we are a diseased globe.The perverts are popping up now more than ever while parents seem to be neglecting their role of first protecting their children before providing. What happened to the days when every elder was considered a parent figure? Now they are potential sexual predators!

What angers me the most is how the media still prioritizes politics over social injustice. The story barely receives coverage in the daily newspaper, leading me to question the extent to which the media gives a care about it's audience! Honestly, as the gate keepers, the media is privileged to set the agenda for Kenya depending on how they frame a story. Yet, these sexual assault cases are merely stated but the hard news comprises of detailed political battles every now and then. Due to the M-Pesa and brown envelope journalism, the journalists have abandoned relevant news values and find themselves bound to unethical practices where political headlines dominate mainstream media.

What happened to the professional mantra of objective reporting and prioritising issues that impede positive nation building? Who is now playing the advocacy role by bringing to light stories often swept under the rag?

Friday, 12 June 2015


I am one enthusiastic woman, heavily supporting the two-thirds gender rule being pushed for in parliament. For a change we are not focusing on blows being handed down by opposing political figures to their playmates. 

However, I frown when I look at how misrepresented women are in the media houses. The Kenyan media sector has been in existence for over 100 years yet the voice of women is still being stifled to date. The international sphere is run by men and so the agendas of the other gender are rarely addressed with the seriousness they deserve. Out of the 110 media owners, how many are women? Do we ever wonder how many women are even at top-media management levels in Kenya or do we just join the bandwagon and scrutinise the female news anchors searching for flaws to belittle them?

It saddens me to read statistics stating that only 19% of views read or heard in the media are by women. To what extent will the women continue being marginalised? Forgive me for pulling my feminism hat on but if only men’s views matter then how is gender empowerment ever to thrive? Are we fighting a lost cause? Sadly, the views often perceived to be important are those of men yet they claim to be at the forefront championing for gender equality. At the education level, only one out of every five journalism graduates is a man. Paradoxically, the creme De la creme of media are men!  

This fungus is widespread across all media houses. Only a handful of female news anchors, reporting prime time news, still have hairline; constantly adorning weaves and thick makeup to bring to lure an audience. Media houses thrive on high ratings. What does this mean for the female journalists that stand in front of the camera? Do they have to continue being plastic to remain relevant to the media houses? Whatever happened to Catherine Kasavuli? Grew too old to captivate audience? How many female writers have their stories taking the lead in the newspaper hard news section? 

Women are not to be viewed as objects of desire.  I long to see more women take charge, not just host shows or write feature stories or fashion columns, but rather be more involved in development and policy-making within the top level in the media. Moreover, the media houses have a mandate to educate their personnel on equal treatment of female and male news makers. More airtime should be dedicated to informative shows that advocate for social change to enable the girl child rise in society without being discriminated.

My rant for the week!

Thursday, 4 June 2015



Great, now that I have your attention, why don’t we talk about our esteemed leaders for a minute?

Don’t you think that if Kenyan leaders would carry out awareness campaigns as they do their election bids, Kenyans would have a clear picture of how they are being governed? The opposite is what is happening in reality however, fundamental issues hovering over Kenya always seem to be waved away easily by our so called caring leaders. In real sense, only a hand-full actually care enough and actively vouch for change. The trust between the citizens and their leaders is almost nonexistent. We live in an era where the voter is inclined to vote based on ethnic affiliations and not bothering to know much about the person been elevated to power. Why? This can be attributed to the fact that once the leaders win the seat, the proletariat’s hues are tossed aside and the greedy dogs join the hunger game.

Land grabbing is not the only cancer eating through our economy. When the floods hit various parts of Kenya, the inept leaders cast blame on harsh weather conditions. How can heavy rains bare blame for the overflow of sewage water that grappled motorists for almost two weeks along Ngong road's tedious traffic as the county governor comfortably evaded traffic with an escort car clearing the way for his convoy? Only Makini school students can narrate the horror of having to spend the night in traffic. They had to watch in awe as the water levels caused by floods kept rising and almost drowning their bus on a highway! Still choose to point fingers at the rains, Mheshimiwa?

Every time I see my MP post a picture of a wonderful luncheon I feel the need to reply the post with the question, ‘When will you develop an interest in transforming my neighborhood's insecurity that causes me shivers as I hastily walk home at 7pm from school, in fear of being mugged or gang raped by jobless youth? Speaking of idle minds, can you address the fact that unemployment is still pricking our society with the number sky rocketing over the past decade?’

We can’t possibly blame it all on the leaders though as that would be irresponsible. We are the ones who vote them in over and over again after all. Our reasons for our choices are more senseless every time and perhaps, we should take ALL the blame.

Before we delve deeper into leadership however, it is about time we all sat down and did some good for our communities. We need more entrepreneurs which would inevitably create jobs, we need to engage in community projects such as garbage collection, we need to tembea Kenya and not depend on foreign tourists solely on that tip, there are so many things we could do. This is because I think that if we are responsible at home, right from the grassroots, there is no way we could be irresponsible when it comes to bigger things such as choosing the leaders. Charity begins at home after all.

I could vent all day, but i have a day time job, kujenga nchi nini nini. Please do join me as I lay out my frustrations on my blog though, for it is by finding the thing around our necks that we can find the solution to remedy the situation. Isn’t that right Adichie? 

My hope is to see this blog invite views from you on the direction you wish to see this country take during the development process. With each post, i desire to invoke a spirit of change in my readers' hearts and sharing different perspective on ways to combat social injustice in this great land and nation!