Random Thoughts of a Girl in Nairobi

   I haven’t written anything in months. Forget half baked-drafts shoved into my laptop’s archives to maybe someday see the light of day. Forget sentences started and typed mid-way only to be hastily erased. I haven’t written anything in months, except that one book review last month when I was essentially performing CPR on my creative side. I haven’t written anything in months and I’m still trying to figure-out why.    Part of it is probably the fact that this internship is very involving. Fine, that’s more than an understatement. If I’m not working, then I’m sleeping. Or reading. Or watching a quarter of a movie that will take me 4 days to finish. Or responding to texts hours or days too late. ( I’m going to take a moment now to apologise to everyone I ever gave grief about being a bad texter when I was in med school because I was running on student-time and you were trying to adult! I have become a bad-texter ).    I’m heading towar...

   I have been learning this recently. It’s so easy to look at the finished product of a process and not appreciate what it took to get there. To forget the cost. To assume that it was easy. In our Christian walk we often ask God to ‘mould’ us in His image. We pray for growth and strength and change. But we don’t always think about what that entails. Being moulded means being broken down into the most basic form and then being remade in the image of the artist. The substance is pounded and squeezed and pressed and contorted in new ways until it bends to the will of the moulder. It’s all fun and games until you realize that you’re the clay. And life is squeezing you and crushing you in so many directions and you look up at heaven and ask God if He forgot your agreement. You say that He’s taking too long to give you the things you asked for yet you also asked to be more patient.    And in the moment, you can’t see where things are going and what the fin...

   This is a statement that many 90s kids growing up in this country might be familiar with. That and it's various variants: 'Hiyo iko na wenyewe' , 'not for the likes of us' and most recently, 'Stick to your lane'. When you've lived in mediocrity all your life it changes you. It seeps through your pores and permeates your soul. It becomes the glass ceiling that you place over yourself and your children. The thing that keeps you shackled in the dark when you had the keys all along. Maybe it's a result of colonialism. Decades of Africans being told what they can't do so much that they started to believe it. And even after they were freed, they never really experienced freedom.      You might wonder what these things that we've decided we don't deserve are. Back then it might have been certain restaurants frequented by foreigners, the idea of a family holiday to Mombasa or even the concept of demanding more from our leaders. I was t...

   The hashtag #WhatADoctorLooksLike is sweeping the internet and with good reason.  In case you're not familiar with the story, I'll catch-you-up. Last week a man on a Delta airlines flight collapsed. So the flight attendant did what we've all watched in movies but few have seen in real life.  She asked if there was a doctor on board. A young African-American OBGYN ( The kind of doctor that attends to women during pregnancy, pregnancy related issues and all other female-specific health issues ) raised her hand because duh! She's a doctor. And even th The flight attendant saw her but automatically assumed she wanted to ask about something else, so she dismissed her and asked again for a doctor. She managed to get the attendant's attention again and this time informed her that she is a doctor.  So the unnecessary time-wasting and possible patient-killing Q & A ensued. Apparently the flight attendant was having a hard time believing that our young Afr...

   What are the things that keep you up at night? Are they your studies? Work? The simple task of feeding your kids from one day to the next? It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that for the average Kenyan, a little ache here or a pain there can wait. A cough that’s lasted for more than a month despite having drank an arsenal of cough syrups is only slightly worrisome. Please don’t get me started on our unhealthy tendency to self-medicate. I’m guilty of doing it myself.  The average Kenyan goes to the hospital when the pain is so much that it wakes them up at night. When the headache starts affecting their sight. In other words, when they can’t put it off any longer. And who can blame them; they have bigger problems to worry about. They can’t afford to miss a day or even a morning of work to go to the hospital. They can’t afford transport to the nearest hospital or health centre. They have to choose between feeding themselves and their loved ones and...

  Human beings are such ridiculously myopic beings. Whenever a public figure makes a mistake, we focus on that one incident and completely forget all the good they had previously done. It’s easier for us to focus on the bad in a situation and forget all the good. Even in our own personal lives. When something bad happens to us, we focus on it, lament about, worry about it, tell the whole world about it and promptly forget about anything else that was positive in our lives. I think the author of this hymn was onto that. Because the lyrics hit so close to home with an accuracy that is timeless.    There is something refreshing about counting one’s blessings. It’s a reminder that whatever situation you are in is really not that bad and that this too shall pass. It gives you the strength to go on. It reminds you that indeed God is still here and He is still good.    So I don’t know about you, but I’ve made a decision to do it more regularly. For myself...

   My first encounter with sexism occurred when I was 12 years old. It was report-card day at the end of 2 nd term and I was in class 7. This was an especially important report-card day because it was one short step to class 8 and everything was taken more seriously by the school. In-fact to prove just how serious things were, class 7s and 8s had to wear their school-uniforms while the rest of the school got to wear regular clothes! I was a bit nervous but not that much. I went to school with a pretty competitive bunch of kids so by this day after the marking, verification and revision of most exam papers; we’d taken the liberty of compiling a rough estimate of our total marks and averages. I knew I was in a good place. I just didn’t know how much.    For the first time in a long time, I’d come first in my class! I told you I went to school with competitive kids. It was hard to maintain the top position for more than one or even two terms. We kept on shift...

  Forgive the apparent typo, but there really is no better way to express this than by the use of a recently-coined millennial verb. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the word ‘adulting’ made its way into next year’s edition of the oxford dictionary. We seem to be borrowing so much from pop culture these days. Now for everyone born before 1980, according to urban dictionary ‘adulting’ can be defined as ‘ doing grown-up things and holding responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups ’. Okay? All good? Now that we’re on the same page allow me to make my list.    Successful adulting is: 1.        Pretending to know what you’re doing 80% of the time and actually knowing what you’re doing only 20% of the time. I have early childhood memories of my parents being total ninjas at stuff. I recently found myself in similar situations and shockingly reali...

   I was reading an post by one of my favourite bloggers about how to keep loving God even after people in the church have hurt you . She says that bad people make bad choices but God is still good. And I felt it resonating with so many of the things I've been thinking about this past year and some of the things I'd seen people around me go through. We canonize individuals and raise them onto this pedestal of religious perfection while conveniently forgetting that they are human beings. Human beings fail...human beings are not good. They sure do try to be but the only person who is infallibly good despite all variables is God. People will dissapoint. Maybe not today, not tommorrow but someday. Maybe in a big way or a little way, but somehow. Because people are human, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. So when all is said and done and they dissapoint we take it really hard because in our minds they were supposed to be be perfect.    So the thing ...

   And by that I mean a generation that literally has no hope. And that’s ironic considering the sheer number of campaigns aimed at making us feel better about ourselves. Campaigns and strategies that we cling to with all we have. And it helps for a while. But you can’t put a band-aid on a bullet-wound and expect the bleeding to stop. It’s not practical because that’s not what bullet-wounds need.    We've lost hope in the prospect of wholesome relationships. We've lost hope in our parents. We've lost hope in the very systems in put in place to govern our society and help us live our day to day lives. Because most of us have been hurt ten times over or have seen the hurt in those closest to us. We tweet daily about corruption in the government and all the things wrong with the systems in place and rarely do we see our outcry come to fruition.    So it’s become easier to not care. To drink away into oblivion because it’s not necessarily our prob...

   This is not what you think it is. Or maybe it’s exactly what you think it is. I suppose that depends on what you’re thinking. But seriously. It seems like writing a ‘dear future husband’ letter is the new milestone for all female bloggers and micro-bloggers ( the people on tumblr etc ) under the age of 30. Talk about peer pressure! But I have firmly refused to fall into this trend because I'm a rebel with a number of causes under my belt. Maybe I’ll wait until the trend dies out. I like doing things that nobody else is currently doing. Like reading books like ‘The fault in our stars’ before they become super popular and they are my own personal best kept secret. Call me Miss Independent.  I think I'm digressing.    So anyway, most of these letters and posts are series of demands about what these women are expecting from their potential better halves. Or whatever Hollywood-inspired fairytale they may be thinking about. Rarely do you find one where ...

There is strength in numbers...don't you ever forget that    I’m not talking about the grabbing of public land or anything of that magnitude. Cases like those usually set our tongues wagging. They make us hold protests and sign petitions and cause a ruckus until the issue is dealt with. No, I’m talking about corruption on a smaller scale. Like when you go to get your car inspected and you have to give someone a ‘bonus’ or your vehicle will be deemed un-roadworthy...even if it’s brand new. Or when you use a Matatu and they charge more than the set fare...even though you all know you’re being conned.    My experience was the latter. I was on my way home on Saturday. I pick my matatus at Odeon. Just before the Matatu left, the guy in charge of the stage came and told us that the fare was 30 bob. He asked us to make sure we only paid that. We all nodded half-heartedly. This always happens. The guy in charge says 30 bob, but the conductor almost always asks ...

   Growing-up I watched my parents and their friends buy each other cards for birthdays, Christmas, success and we even got congratulations cards when my brother was born. I managed to fish out the cards that have survived in the house. I bought some of them myself and wrote Merry Christmas in my child-like squiggly hand-writing. So why don’t we do that anymore? Because I know from experience that card-buying is an art. You first look for one that passes on the message you want. Then you separate the gaudy from the tasteful. Finally, you pick the one the person you’re buying for would likely like the most. You see, it’s an art! Even the bank used to send me a card for my Birthday! Birthday cards Success cards...mostly mum's Congratulations cards My favourite: Christmas cards    For all the good that technology has done for us, it’s taken away that authenticity in our declarations of affection. Admit it, every time someone sends you an e-...

   Or chain - emails. Or chain-facebook statuses. I just don’t do chains! (Except the ones you wear around your neck ). Some of you may be in the dark so allow me to enlighten you. A chain text/email/facebook status looks a little like this: Look, it’s not personal but I won’t forward them... I won’t even read them...for many reasons. Get ready because I’m about to get sanctimonious.    First of all, they’re annoying. Most of them have the same format and are stories I’ve been seeing on the internet since 2005. Sure, the first time round we didn’t mind because the whole online messaging thing was a novelty. Now, it’s getting real old real fast. There’s also the fact that most of them are based on urban legends.    They have an aspect of emotional black-mail. Most of them end in a variation of the words ‘forward to 10 people and tomorrow you will meet the love of your life’ or ‘your crush will kiss you’ or ‘you will be surprised’ . And ...

   Religious persecution is stupid! You hear? Stupid! I don’t understand what makes anyone think that you can force somebody else to adhere to your religion. You came to this earth alone and God will judge you alone. So I don’t see how your neighbour’s ‘unbelief’ or ‘wrongdoing’ will affect you. Aren’t you supposed to be worrying about your own wrongdoing? And don’t look at me like you haven’t got any.    I mean sure, the Bible charges Christians to spread the Gospel. But it doesn’t tell them to hold-people at gun-point and make them pledge allegiance to Jesus! Our job is just to tell them not force them. Remember that verse where the disciples were told to shake the dust off their feet at a town where they weren’t welcome? Luke 9:5 New King James Version (NKJV)  And whoever will not receive you, when you go out of that city, shake off the very dust from your feet as a testimony against them.” Plus the whole idea of being hateful to others is pretty...

       Gosh I really need a boyfriend! I am not the first girl in history to have this thought and I certainly won't be the last. It happens when you're feeling sad...or want someone to vent to....or are lonely...or everyone around you seems to be in coupled bliss. And you only see the sunshine and rainbows that come with having a significant other. You only see the cuteness and the mushiness and the happiness. You are ready to settle for anything with an XY chromosome that has no aversion towards you.    But you forget that he may have annoying habits. He may be rude to your family. He might have nothing in common with you. You might fight. You might not like his choice of friends. You forget that relationships are messy. You forget that there is a good reason to be picky about guys. You don't have to be 'happily married' at 22, a few more years won't kill you. You don't have to settle just for the sake. Songs of Solomon 8:4 I charge you, O daughte...

I've decided to come out of the closet. And it's funny because I watched a video last year that had the same title but the message didn't really strike me until recently...when I was making a very small decision in my life. Now...hold on before your imagination runs wild. I'm talking about the closet that you might be automatically thinking about. I'm talking about Closet-Christians...get it? no? let me explain. I'm talking about the people who walk around terrified that their not-necessarily-born-again friends and colleagues would judge them if they found out that they were saved. I'm talking about the people who euphemise going to church on Sunday as 'being busy during the weekend'. I'm talking about the people who skip praying before lunch at school to avoid potentially awkward questions and possibly stares. And I promise I'm not judging you because I know what it feels like to be in your shoes...sometimes I still walk in them. It...

 There are fewer jobs today and machines are partly to blame. Sure, a dramatically increased population size is also a major factor but still, when you can have 1 piece of technology doing the work that 10 people could have done, then you don’t really need those 10 people, do you?  But what happens to them? Does the system find some other job that they can do and machines can’t or do the just fade into unemployed oblivion? It’s happened before in the 1800s during the industrial revolution, and it’s kept happening and escalating ever since. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not by any means technophobic. In fact, I’m the kind of person who feels lost when I wake up and my internet connection isn’t working! Sad, but true.     Today I read an article about 3D printers. Basically they are like the ordinary printers everyone knows, only that they can print actual usable 3D objects based on a design created on a computer.  A 3D printer  As of now, ...