Hey, hey, hey! I want to know- how have you been? It has been a minute, yeah? I hope you missed Rusty Fingers.

I have to say that we have made huge strides as a people- as Africans, and specifically as Kenyans- cos it’s my nationality, hello! I wasn’t born 84 years ago, but some of our grandparents and older friends were. I know most of our grandmothers were married off as soon as the society deemed her ‘woman enough.’ Perhaps your grandma got her first child when she was only fourteen.

Most found themselves in that situation simply because their parents thought, ‘What is school for the girl child? She should bring us cattle as soon as possible.’ I hate to think about how sad those girls must have been, seeing their brothers going to school or whatever those were- classes under trees! Whatever! It’s probably why they are always asking about education, to see their dreams fulfilled in us, or is it just my grandmother? Who keeps saying she wants to me get a First Class Honours? Ha?

I am a happy child cos people are pushing for gender equality- that women are in technology, in engineering, in the medical field, et cetera. I’m happy that there are almost equal opportunities but that’s not why we’re here. At this point I’ve realized that I tend to talk about a lot of things before actually getting to the thing. Am I apologizing?
We’ve grown so much, but there’s one thing- traditional masculinity, that we have refused to let go of. Now, masculinity in itself, aka manliness, is a good thing. It is a set of attributes, behaviours and roles associated with boys and men. It is pretty much a social construct. Toxic masculinity, a cultural concept of manliness that glorifies stoicism, strength, virility and dominance; that’s socially maladaptive/harmful to mental health. When we started Rusty Fingers, I kinda had a list of things I’d want to put out there and I have to admit that this topic wasn’t one of them.

My two girlfriends and I were having this discussion about our dads and men in general and how we feel the effects of how they were brought up in how they associate with us. These are our dads, our husbands, boyfriends. We talked about our brothers and how we’d want them to be different in some aspects, from our dads.

You see it every time- a baby girl will trip and cry for three hours and it will be okay. A little boy, the same age ast the little girl, will fall, lose a tooth and he even, almost loses a limb and he’ll be told, ‘Get up. Usilie(don’t cry). Mwanaume ni kujikaza (I’m afraid translating this to English will make it lose its meaning’s intensity, so I won’t!)’ Men are taught to suppress their emotions from a young age, and we know where that gets us. Heard about the line, ‘Hurt people hurt people’? I bet you have.
Sophie Walker, a former leader of United Kingdom’s Women Equality Party said, ‘I’m not saying all men are terrorists. I am saying that the vast majority of those involved in acts of terror are men. Refusing to make the link between violence and toxic masculinity means that we are less equipped to halt it. In my view, toxic masculinity is the cause of very many problems in our society today.’ Here are general characteristics of toxic masculinity:

1. Shame, disassociation and avoidance of emotional expression.
   Men/boys don’t cry, leaving them with few acceptable (according to standards set by the society- our society) emotions besides anger. We all know angry people aren’t fun, are they? More men than women are depressed. More men than women commit suicide. Men deal with mental issues- anxiety! Google that!

2. Extreme aspiration for physical, sexual and intellectual dominance. This would explain why some men get an ego-boost by having multiple partners. This has been the cause of frustration in more relationships than you can imagine. Of course nothing justifies cheating, but toxic masculinity is a good reason for it.

3. Extreme self-reliance/the need to do everything on their own.
This makes it less likely for men to seek treatment or reach out for help financially. Heck! I know a guy that would rather die of starvation than call the parents to ask for money, and he keeps telling me ‘Wanaume ni wa Mungu’ as if women belong to any other One. I’m not mentioning names, or should I? Haha! I appreciate you still, friend!

4. Devaluation of women’s opinions, body and sense of self.
Rapists are animals? Yes? Also, rapists possess this trait, toxic masculinity, in such a great way that if we could package it, that toxic masculinity, and sell it, we’d get enough money to feed the people under lockdown, for 84 years! Who’d want to buy the Toxic Masculinity Package though? Rapists. They certainly would.

5. Condemning anything feminine within another man or equating affection for another man as being sexually-attracted to other men, resulting in higher isolation and loneliness/ lack of social cohesion. I keep asking my boyfriends why they cannot hug like normal people, you know! A proper hug, where you actually embrace each other. Perhaps it’s for the culture that they do what they do- a very loud (I think it’s painful) high-five, then bumping shoulders and hitting the other’s back simultaneously. That’s how Kenyan guys hug* each other. I met a guy some time back who would properly hug his friends and I almost asked him to marry me, because!! My heart! Ah!❤️

Can we normalize some of these things? Can a guy just put on a pink hoodie and not have his friends question whether everything is okay? Can we normalize men walking around with lip balm? Seriously, do you like seeing those dry chapped lips? I don’t 🙃. Nivea has good lip balm for men in a navy-blue container, FYI. It’s not glossy at all, yet quite moisturising. (Ad not sponsored. Haha! Although, seriously, working with a brand would be really cool, don’t you think?) You are welcome! Normalize having men at the nail parlor to get manicure done by a professional, with no one looking at them. With absolutely no one judging them! It’s not just a girl-thing to want good nails, you guys! I’m glad, yet again, that there are brands coming up- creating even face masks for men!! Beard oil! All those good things!

Human beings, men and women alike, are social creatures. We’re all somewhat alike, and there’s need to normalize some things we’ve termed ‘too feminine’ in men. They don’t need to be tough all the time, and we should teach our boys that crying isn’t a sign of weakness. It is these that have been linked to aggression and violence (hurt people hurt people, remember?), leaving boys at risk for school discipline and even health problems- ulcers and hypertension. It is very okay to seek emotional and financial assistance. Having multiple partners is not cool, and rapists are sick animals.

A healthy, happy society will be one in which these men are not judged by any man or woman for doing what we think is feminine. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie said, ‘By far, the worst thing we do to males- by making them feel they have to be hard- is that we leave them with very fragile egos.’ I believe her. I know you do too!

No, I’m not saying y’all should dress like this. Don’t wear a lace romper, please.

Follow Rusty Fingers for notifications immediately we post! Merci!

Be well!😊

Hello, wonderful person! I am very excited to write this article- you have no idea! Rusty Fingers was nominated for the Liebster Award!! I mean, how cool is that? Someone thinks we are doing a good job and I’m here for that, and I hope you are too.

We got the nomination from Kimathi Makini, and listen! Finish reading this article cos you should (hahaa! This is the confidence we’re having in 2020!) and head over to his blog. Kimathi’s brain should be registered as a national treasure, and I’ll let you find out why: http://youngdocnet.wordpress.com.

The Liebster Award is an award that exists only on the Internet and is given to bloggers by other bloggers. I must admit that I didn’t know such a thing existed, and it makes me so happy. Writers are out here creating a beautiful community, where the pen is our best friend, and we’re not fighting for it, cos it loves us all.

RULES FOR THE AWARD:

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.

2. Answer the questions given to you.

3. Share eleven facts about yourself.

4. Nominate 5-11 bloggers.

5. Ask your nominees eleven questions.

6. Notify your nominees once you’ve uploaded your post.

ANSWERS TO KIMATHI’S QUESTIONS:

Would you rather the Truth or Dare?

Truth! All the way! I’ve made peace with most things in my life, thus I don’t think there’s anything I’d want to lie about, or hide. Someone would dare me to kiss a lion, or slap a stranger, and it’d be ridiculous, and I’d probably not do it.

Of the wonders of the world, which one fascinates you the most?

The Great Wildebeest Migration! I think it is such a spectacular phenomenon, and for the fact that it happens in my motherland, it is my favorite. All the wonders of the world are wonderful (I recently read about Taj Mahal- it’s a proposed wonder. It’s amazing what human beings can do).

What do you think would cause the world’s end? E.g. in the line of global warming, a microbe, a zombie apocalypse, alien invasion…

Global warming is the realest! We’re already seeing and feeling the effects, and I have a feeling it’s gon’ be terrible if we keep doing what we’re doing. However, with Covid-19, it’s hard to tell. Could this be it? A microbe? Who nose? Hahaa! (I hope you’re covering yours with a mask when necessary!)

Who/what is your favorite fictional character?

I’ve never really been a fan of fiction, so this is a tough one, but I’d say Snow White. I love her story!

Who do you regard as your role model? Why?

I look up to several people for various things – I love Jennifer Lopez’s enthusiasm on fitness and health. I love Oprah for being so honest about her journey – her sad past, her weaknesses and her many victories and glory. I looovee Michelle Obama for everything. I recently read her book ‘Becoming’ and I love that she works hard, and doesn’t just ride on her husband’s success. Her contribution to the community is commendable. She handles criticism so gracefully (remember this time people thought she was a man?? Shame on you, body shamers, and I hope you’re not low-key one of them). She is a phenomenal woman!

She said, ‘If you don’t get out there and define yourself, you’ll be quickly and inaccurately defined by others. ‘Becoming’ isn’t about arriving somewhere or achieving a certain aim. It is a forward motion – toward a better self. The journey doesn’t end.’

One of your favorite memories?

Being a child? Does that count? I legit miss everything about being a child, and I know you do too. I miss not stressing about anything – what to wear (cos I had no power whatsoever. You wear what mum has bought – woven sweaters and dresses with pleats! Whew!), relationships, financial security, the ‘Am-I-really-on-the-right-track’ question. I miss everything about being a little child!

Favorite/most used word? Where did you pick it?

Wow! Shocked? Wow! Surprised? Wow! Impressed? Wow! In disbelief? Wow! Wow is my favorite word, and I can’t remember where I picked it. Wow!

If you could get a tattoo, what would it be and where on your body?

Let us be honest here. I am not getting a tattoo. I don’t love pain and I don’t want my grandmother to pass out, just after saying I’ve been recruited into an occult. To answer the question, I’d get a tattoo of a face- my mother’s or Christ’s, somewhere on my upper arm, so if my grandma happens to see it, it’d be easier to explain to her.

Would you donate your body to science?

Hell no! No! I’m not even explaining this.

Favorite quote?

The famous Dr. Seuss’ quote: ‘Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!’

What’s the one thing you want to accomplish in life?

I want, at the end of it all, to be able to say, ‘I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here… The hearts I have touched would be the proof that I lived – that I made a difference.’ I truly want to live a full life: be there for my people in all ways possible, have so many stamps on my passports, and be able to buy myself nice things without stressing about price tags, cos, why not? LIVING is the one thing I want to accomplish in life.

11 THINGS ABOUT ME:

1. I find talking about myself rather weird, so this is a tough segment. When I asked my sister what people say when asked to say eleven things about themselves, this is legit what she said I should write: Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. That goes to show that I appreciate food! It is the love of my life.

2. I fall in love with people’s voices- not just in singing. (someone tell Johnson Mwakazi I have a message for him!)

3. I am an extrovert, half the time!

4. I have facial hair, and I’m one of the few ladies that have hair growing on their chin. I trim when I remember to. You can call it a beard.

5. I share a name with my sister. We are both Margaret Kangethe. A lot of people find it interesting.

6. I am not a morning person. I am more productive at night.

7. I am a natural hair enthusiast. I just wish it was as enthusiastic about respecting me and actually growing long. *sobs*

8. I love cats, and I can’t trust anyone who doesn’t like cats. Lol!

9. I love to be grateful for many things – scents, people, places, food, animals. It kinda keeps me sane.

10. I am not huge on spontaneity. You can’t just wake up and tell me you’re taking me to the Maldives. I have to plan and prepare psychogically for almost everything – even waking up. Especially waking up.

11. I believe in God and I can’t imagine living my life any other way- believing in any other deity. Believing in God gives my life meaning.

(I had to add this- I love Beyonce, and I think artistes like Alessia Cara and Shimile are underrated. I haven’t watched Money Heist.)

MY NOMINEES:

1. Marion Nyaboke

2. Alvin Ang’ienda

3. Kamencu Nelly

4. Bronze Doll (Joy Ngugi)

5. Chome

6. Aluoch Onyango

QUESTIONS TO MY NOMINEES:

1. If you had the world’s attention for 30 seconds, what would you say?

2. Do you like your name? Would you ever change it? If yes, what would your name be?

3. What do you regret the most?

4. When you’re worried/scared, what do you do or think about to help you feel better?

5. What’s your pet peeve?

6. What is item numero uno on your bucket list?

7. Which part of your body do you love the most? You can tell us why if you want to.

8. What are your five favorite songs right now?

9. If you had to work but didn’t need the money, what would you choose to do?

10. What did you learn a little too late?

11. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

Also, describe yourself using one word.

That’s about it! I have had so much fun writing this article, and I hope you had just as much fun reading!

Like this if you did! Share this! Follow this blog, cos why not? Spread love and light in the spaces you’re in, okay?

Be well!

Now that love is in the air, let’s continue to have the masks on, and whoever said love is the key, someone changed the lock! What a week for love? It has been blows and eviction for it (love) for from the south of the country to the capital, love is unwanted. In the meantime, Northern side is peaceful and I hope that will be the case for long for I will represent the East and West. I hope Wangari’s son got to read his C.V. I am also here to drop one. I hope it has such remarkable qualifications in it and the job will be secured.

It will be rare in the life of a Rasta man to have to display a soft side as one to show he can be vulnerable. Stoicism is one of the attributes the street teaches you especially when you decide to pursue the ‘dreadlock’ ways. I will try spill only that which will show me as human as any other proper man for now being a single soul and searching, I need a proper woman for I am mingling.
I am sorry I did jump before the gun. I told you the end before the beginning, is that not what synopsis are for?

Her name today will be Silver. Thinking about Silver, evokes life and death. Life for I lived for another being and death for my heart was pumped to detest and repel betrayal, contempt and pretense. It is the collection of thoughts one litters in your mind, and going through the memory lane is like going through a family album seeing versions of you and your family members morph to what is at the present time.
I have but few happy moments and lasting bad times. Times when with the sunrise I would celebrate, walking out on my balcony to have the rays of the sun caress me as her face(Silver’s) I would see it on the surface of that orange object as it made its way out of the hills yonder. And moments when with the sunset I would long to follow it, for it was peace I longed, for I thought the sun had taken some break of sorts. For me it felt a gulp of air for a suffocated body, a sip of water for a thirsty man, all efforts dedicated to save a life as slowly life made its way to worlds unfathomable.

Silver was a bullet. One that when you had possessed it, to you it seemed a treasure for even to a vampire this was a deadly blow. Never one time in your possession would you think this very priced ornament between your index and thumb brought close to your face between your eyes as you admire it will one day be the strange thing to be in your body.
Silver was beautiful. Dark skinned, a body petite, such defined features, her hair would take up any style, and there was just no limits it could get to for the many, few times I got to see her, she had this vibe as if to have a new head every morning. Her legs were a killer. And when she walked you would bet I would be slightly behind not as an incorrigible manner less man to scout and satisfy strange desires but to have to see, what walking with grace meant. She looked light, as if walking on air. I tend to be convinced if she indeed in her graceful steps stepped on insects anywhere either they didn’t die for no weight was on them or it was promotion to glory. Her eyes, lovely to behold. Her nose well put and mouth well in place and all this was in not a long and neither short face that had these chubby cheeks I would peck every time we met.
I ain’t no insect; that is how she walked in my life. Beautiful story of when for once the mind and the heart worked in unison. For it was what the mind determined the heart pursued. It was a system of cogs in perfect synchronization, a perfect symphony in play, chords having to be the very right, light and touching notes, the rhythm soothing and luring that when I tried not to be in tune I paid the price with a chamber in my little heart. She occupied the four of them. Love stricken, feeling all lucky and loathing all gamblers and bet winners not because they did win handsomely but for how it was they celebrated such cheap winnings as compared to mine.

If slither is a bad word that is not what I did. Chronicles of the hunter started this particular day on a chilly morning when I first set my eyes on her. I am a patient predator. But this time I was to forfeit my every instinct I had acquired in the jungle and didn’t care whether my foot steps were loud enough or even that my waft scent had been given away. I seemed not to care to camouflage with my surrounding. I was announcing myself so loudly that caution was to the wolves. Love is blind, I sure couldn’t see, she was the light to my soul perceived and having had darkness for ages finally I would be free. It was that light at the end of the tunnel.
It was on this morning I said hi. In the evening we were under the light of the moon, the shadows of the acacia trees on a well elevated not completed structure wrapped in ‘shukas’ and there was endless chatter. I had led her away from the bonfire lit and our friends playing around it. We seemed not to care of the cold night for the only fire that mattered was this spark I perceived would burst into a furnace. Two souls were delicately weighing their words before they tumbled out. Say what you will dear reader, I believe in love at first sight and this was more than sight. I wish I did take the laughter from the hyenas at a distance seriously for if I had listened keenly they laughed at a joke they made, “It will end in premium tears.” But we had and deep in our world we were. In my head the story of the beauty and beast was repeatedly played for here was my salvation and finally to a form that I would be human.
We were camping in Maasai Mara. Stationed at Aitong’, a vast plain punctuated with hills strategically placed in the way of the sun in that in its rise and set there was a romantic reddening of the sky with it. And so it was for every morning and evening of everyday we were in this beautiful Maasai land two pairs of eyes set to savor this beauty from the heavens would religiously minutes before the either phenomenon unfolded be well stationed at a site for the sight was nothing short of exquisite.

She knew I was chasing and she kept and made it worth the thrill of the chase. She kept me in wonder of what she was thinking and even to get her digits I labored for them.

She was a principled lady and this I swore not to make her any less. I was not helpless romantic as Njoki would put it. Here was my tingle, a niggling urges out of my senses, damn cupid! His arrow messed me up.
She returned to the city earlier that the supposed time for my team and I. A dark cloud for the few days before we would return to the concrete jungle was not healthy for me. It was a bitter pill to swallow. This camp had to end before the wolves, snakes and the infamous hyenas in the city…this thought I discarded and dismissed fast as it came…
Fast forward to when in the city, my mind was made up. Creatives never lack ways to amuse a soul. After days that turned to months my intent was more clear than my reflection on my mirror. I felt sure that day if there had been a scale of surety my confidence was the maximum. It was two weeks to when I got my feedback. On one of the city’s tall buildings, this place being close to heaven with this more than good news, I was in heaven. So here was my start of keeping diaries, documenting the times and important dates lest I forgot and forced to apologies profusely, accompanying this, with bribes(gifts) for the next decade. I adored this lady. She didn’t make me go gaga, but I was madly in love. Poems flowed from the very fountains of my existence, Shakespeare clearly had nothing on me. Next to paying tithes was the joints I endlessly would scout and take my lady. Walking her on the streets to where she would take her train home, were priceless times: flowing conversations, completion of each other’s sentences, the bursts of the loud laughter we would have from the description of things we would see on our way through the avenues, the joke filled and sarcasm …Ah! This must be heaven!

Texts and calls were in loads. This woman was a treasure. She had this smile she knew I loved and she had it on unless when we were arguing. Troubles came knocking and out they went how they came. It was always us getting to the other side despite and in spite of. And so the highlight dawned, we both happened to be ‘sick’ almost in the same week and a vacation was reckoning. We took a flight. The land of coconut, palms and sandy beaches saw the best of us. The culmination of the days we spent in this ‘Wonderland’ would end under the stretch of the sky, littered with the twinkling stars, below the streets where no one would see the intertwining of two beautiful souls on the rooftop the night breeze bringing to us good tidings and what beautiful and positive vibes to shower us.
Back to the city our souls and body healed, the devil had a gift. My works entails lots of transfers and here was one handed to me to a land thousands of miles. A test we had not signed up for. However, we knew nothing would come between us. There we were at the airport. Like two kids, drenched in tears, devastated. I had to leave. A moment our souls sank to the lowest, at least for me.
Texts and call were in floods. Though in different time zones we did hack and with this assurance guaranteed than that of the insurances I was secure. It was to be for a couple of months and I would be back. By the second week there was the drop in the messages and calls. Not once did I call only to be notified to call later and my texts went unanswered. I tried to be in the city alternating weekends and each meet up was colder than the last. “What is the issue?”, “Do you still love me?” I never got the answers. I still held on. Could be her hormones.

On a surprise visit to the city with gifts from the distant lands, there she was. That evening she walked out of the glass doors out of the building and as I left the place I stood as to ambush her, I saw them. She hugged him with such familiarity. This was not normal. I decided to wait to see the whole drama unfold. My heart was wringed. All it’s life was gone. I needed Jesus, only HIM at this particular time knew what a ‘Judaical’ moment I was going through. A stab fits not the description. Paraded naked to the guillotine carries not the feeling of rejection and the famous plague of darkness was such light as to that moment of her and him. They kissed. I watched them exchange pleasantries and my turn around was one of a made up mind.

Solemn moment:
I asked to meet her the following day. There in a restaurant I had the imagery of a hospital. A life support machine switched off and slowly watching life ebb away. The room is silent apart from the faint breathing from he or she on the bed. No one prepares you for grief. There is a lump on your throat, tears have formed waiting for you to blink so they may roll, it will be a silent cry.
So out she walked. Having feigned anger, disappointment and brokenness. This was my silver bullet served on silver platter. This was to be the last time I would see her. I saw her dress fade in the distance, as the doves around flew to the heavens. I sighed, I promised not to die for I needed to see the sunrise and take out the bullet.

Uhoro waku? We have been doing international and clearly, we do it different today, just like everything else going on in the world seems- different! Now, if you’re Kenyan, ‘Uhoro waku?’ is basic in the language of business here, yes? If you’re not, I ask, how are you?

This article is definitely long overdue. You have to believe me when I tell you that the devil has paid me a visit. No! I’m not talking about COVID-19, cos y’all know that it feels like the devil is here to stay, and we involuntarily feed and house him for all the while he feels like being around! Devil, please! (I read somewhere that what’s going on is pretty much the world being like our parents telling us, ‘Go to your room and think about what you’ve done. Is it okay?’ Anyhoo!) I say he has paid me a visit because bad things have been happening – my laptop charger is spoilt and I can’t get another soon-please don’t ask what brand of laptop it is. HINT: I am a student at JKUAT and the school makes laptops. Whew! So I had to write this article on paper, and again type on my phone, which, if you blog, you know is not fun!

We have been doing a lot of philosophy lately- on matters death, entitlement and stuff. Today’s is a bit different, just as the title suggests. We have no title guys cos I’m going to say everything, and nothing too!

See, I had a conversation with my girlfriend the other day, who happens to be in a very stable relationship with this guy who adores her. Heck! He wants to marry her right after she graduates from uni (we are agemates, and she’s certain she’d want to marry him. I can’t even decide which I love better- Krackles or Tropical Heat potato crisps. Bam!) You know how it goes, ‘Tell me about you Njoki. Any new guy?’ As I usually do, I shrugged my shoulders and tactfully evade the question, ‘Ah! Zangu tusiongelelee. Tell me about the man!’ Today I am here to answer you baby girl. Here is the answer!

There is no new guy!

I’d have left it at that cos that in itself is a complete answer, but I won’t, because there’s a story. I have truly loved before. There was this one I loved to call ‘muru wa Wangari’, that is, Wangari’s son. I have had special things with people. I have liked some men, but not half as much as I did Wangari’s son.

At this point, those who know me are mad and are probably like, ‘Are we still talking about him?’ and I am here to tell you that yes! We are talking about him. Grab a seat and a glass of juice, or a cup of hibiscus!

‘MOVE ON SIS!’ If I got a dollar every time I heard that line, I swear, Bill Gates would have nothing on me. Right after high school, I decided to take care of my father’s poultry and that meant that I regularly had to go to the feeds store to get feeds and sometimes, drugs for weak shells, and for a heart that was slowly but surely, falling in love. No, I wasn’t in love with the shop. I loved to go there on Saturday evenings because that was when the shop owner’s son would be around, helping the mum. This boy, Wangari’s son, was (still is) the cutest thing (after my nephew) and OMG! He speaks so well (Aluoch, we are yet to get a name for this.) He had an afro bigger than my life, and it was usually uncombed. It was love at first sight! Ha! No, I had a crush on him! A thud! Suddenly I’m not sure which is more intense.

You know the anxiety, the butterflies in your tummy? I’d have a million and I couldn’t say anything more than, ‘Sasa! Nisaidie 2 kgs of layers’ mash.’ So one time we talked for around five minutes and I can’t even remember what we said to each other, because!! Sis. Was. Excited. As excited as can be! Those minutes felt like the best I had had in ages! Then I started asking my girls to accompany me to the shop so they would see this guy, like I was leading them to a treasure unknown to the rest of the world, and I loved to hear, ‘OMG he’s so cute!’ As if I owned him.

Ours happened a bit fast, because a few days later, we coincidentally met at a mutual friend’s stall and he was legit excited to see me(at least I thought he was, and that was what mattered to me), and so was I. He walked up to me and was like, ‘It’s 5 pm and I’ve had a really long day. I woke up feeling blue and decided to put on my lucky boxers yet nothing good has happened so far, until now that I have met you. How are you?’ Ugh! My heart! (First of all, who owns a pair of lucky boxers?)

The second time we met was a time we had a hang-out at our friend’s where I got really late and when everyone told me, ‘Drinks zimeisha,’ he got me a blue bottle of cold caffeinated Azam, which he really loved, from his bag. He saved me a bottle of his favorite drink! I drank it as he taught his friends how to play guitar! He was ahead of his game, I thought!

We went on and on, and somehow, that was the beginning of a beautiful part of my life. He became my first boyfriend!

Now, I don’t think I’d be writing this if it ended as beautifully as it started, and I’m not even sure I should share this with you, but after talking to a few people like me; people who love deeply and don’t move on within three weeks, I thought, why not?

Wangari’s son was a huge part of my life – I let him be. He is the reason I simply cannot listen to a song and enjoy the lyrics because he would make me shout, ‘Acoustic guitar. Electric. Drums. Piano…’ any time we were listening to music, which was basically all the time (his love for musical instruments and beat-making was unmatched!) He’d look at me goofily with his beautiful eyes when I’d get it wrong, and if we could freeze time, then, I would.

He somewhat made me a perfectionist because of how delicately, carefully, he’d chop potatoes when making fries, or how neatly he’d fold his clothes. Also, his best guy friend and I were beneficiaries of his good cooking, and terrible fails at making black forest cake.

The boy’s honesty would easily pass for rudeness when he’d seriously tell strangers, ‘No! Don’t touch my hair!’ and I’d get so embarrassed whenever he pulled that until he tells me, ‘Ketchup, if you don’t know me don’t touch my hair. I’m not touching yours.’ Wow!

He was a huge fan of decluttering and he had good taste, I’d get his jackets and sweaters and when I’d express how grateful I am, he’d hit me with, ‘Yeah! For taking all the trash.’ When he got me some really nice top which no longer fits but I refuse to dispose, he said, ‘Good things for good people’ and being called good by him felt like the best thing! Ugh!

Our love language was sending voice notes and creating playlists for each other- songs that I listen to and want to cry a river, or hug him, or shoot him ten times in the head (with a toy gun full of water). If you think I’m savage, you should meet him. I loved him more for that. I remember this time, we were peeling carrots and I swear I almost chopped off my finger and I screamed ‘Ouch!’ He ran from across the kitchen to where I was and I was like, ‘Aaaww! You care about me that much!’ He looked at me and said, ‘No! I just didn’t want the door to get stained with blood.’ I still get excited when I meet his baby sister and she runs to hug me, and when I meet her mum and she says, ‘Kairetu. Siku hizi umepotea. Huwa sikuoni…’ and I feel like explaining that her son and I are not as tight anymore, but I can’t, you know!

I will never again date a guy from around our home because low-key (very high-key) everything would would remind me of him- that’s where I would buy him chocolate. This is where we’d take walks and this was our favorite spot and and after hugging goodbye, he’d say, ‘I love to watch you leave,’ as he stood to watch me walk to our place (he loved my figure so watching me leave- he loved to do that! Lol!)

I have read a million articles on How To Get Over An Ex. Heck! There was one I read the other day where the lady had a mathematical formula to calculate how long it takes to get over someone- boyfriend, boyfriend-ish(situationships), whatever! I won’t even go into that cos it annoyed me that the formula didn’t work for me.

All relationships are different, and so are break-ups and how we heal. Some may miss their cup of hibiscus at a given time more than they miss their ex. Others may miss Oreo biscuits more than the people they were in situationships with. It varies!

We see it everywhere- in movies (watch Best Of Me if you haven’t). We read about such love stories – stories that seemingly have no ending, where people cheat on their spouses with their exes from their teenage years. It is real- it seemed so to me for a while. The tips I got are as follows:

1. Cut all forms of communication. Do not beat drums or send smoke signals or send an email nor text, until you’re sure you’ve completely healed, however long it takes.

2. Do not think of what you would have done differently to save the relationship. It is what it is.

3. Do not wallow and depress yourself with the thought of ‘He’s the only one for me. I’ll never get another like him/her.’ Yes, that is mostly true. You might never get another Son of Wangari, but there are other amazing people you’d build great relationships with, when you have healed and are ready to experience someone in that way again.

4. Don’t overthink it. Again, it is what it is. Channel your energy into things like making art, dancing, journaling, learning a language, instead of stressing about what happened ages ago.

Start the healing and be a bit more deliberate on it- I don’t care if it’s Marvin, Benjamin, Alejandro, Paul, Achieng’, Akinyi, or Nafula. You will get over them and you will be fine, okay? We need to heal so we can be better people who do not hurt others. Also, you are luckier than you think if this information is useless to you – if you have never gone through a terrible break-up.

For the 84th time, I have made a decision to neither call nor text him, and I hope I will keep my word to myself this time, cos I should. In fact, I will buy sand paper to erase the writing I made on my bed’s board on the first day we kissed, and I might delete the selfies I sent to my sister of me crying that very day, or not, because there are things we don’t forget, or do we?

Spread love and light in the spaces you find yourself in. I hope those spaces are just your houses, because, QUARANTINE!

If you relate to what you’ve just read, please download the song ‘Didn’t I love you?’ by One Republic. You are welcome!

Be well!

Hey! How are you? What have you been up to lately? I have been eating, sleeping, reading, working around the house, getting very shocked on watching news from all around the world, because of, you know what- COVID 19! You’ve probably heard enough about this whole thing and I am definitely not here to echo all that and make you scared, if you’re not yet. I hope you are staying safe, and that you are in touch with your friends and your grandparents (you’re blessed if they are here. Hallelujah!)

I know, the topic is rather different. You are not special. You’re so used to hearing words like, ‘You are very special. No one is like you. You deserve to be treated well by everyone. You are extra-ordinary…’ No! YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL.

Here’s why. See, I grew up in Dagoretti Corner, and that meant that the closest supermarket was Nakumatt Junction (Nakumatt was the real deal then! It went down like our economy is right now, and sadly, some of our hopes and aspirations). That was not the point. I remember seeing very rich families- Kenyan, Asian and American families, and the shock on my face when a kid would scream in the supermarket so the parents would buy a toy that cost 100 US dollars, or a box of Belgian chocolate. I think what shocked me more was not the kids’ drama nor the parents’ helplessness and lack-of-options that made them buy the very things. It was imagining myself crying like that and seeing myself spending a night or three in the hospital bed because of the injuries inflicted on me by my folks. The people that bore me. Yes! Such behaviors would simply not be entertained, and we understood that. Perfectly! We would never go shopping minus a list- of maize flour, sugar, wheat flour, soap, and other basics and snacks whose prices made sense, to my parents. Hello, my sister Margaret and brother Peter! I love you two.

Our baby has that thing too- where ‘NO’ cannot be an answer. ‘I want yoghurt right now,’ and I tell him we will buy the next day and he gets mad. I am talking about entitlement. I think it is innate to want good things for ourselves and want people to give us what we want, and treat us how we want to be treated, and tell us things we want to hear, like ‘Yes. Let us go buy yoghurt right now.’ I see it in my relationships with people- with friends, and family, even strangers. A woman heavy with child would expect you to open the door and let her pass before you do even though you got there before she did. You should not let her queue. She should be the first one to be served, and I am glad our society mostly has respect for women, and for people who are disabled (read, abled differently), but really, it is just for that! Respect! Kindness! Being considerate! They are not entitled to it- a person who refuses to give up their seat for the lady will not get arrested, yes?

I got curious and decided to do a bit of research on matters entitlement. According to psychologists Jeffrey Young and Janet Klosko, entitlement is one of several self-defeating behavior patterns, called ‘life traps.’ There are three types:

Spoiled entitlement
A person sees him/herself as special, is demanding and controlling and wants everything his/her way.
Dependent entitlement
A person feels entitled to depend on other people. They place themselves in the weak, incompetent, needy role and expect other people to be strong and take care of them.

Impulsivity
A person has difficulty controlling his/her behavior and feelings. They let other people assume responsibility for their everyday affairs and their decision-making. They lack organization and structure and have trouble tolerating frustration while completing long-term boring or routine tasks.

I am not a psychologist, however I am definitely a people person who seeks to meet people and experience them, to know why they do what they do, you know! I have interacted with those who feel entitled for whatever reason, and I am not oblivious of the fact that I also exhibit signs of entitlement, and on such days I force myself to slow down, because I should. Entitled people do not look at themselves and often blame others for their problems. They lack empathy and feel entitled to more than that they give. Entitlement, let’s agree, is such an ugly way to be in the world. Can you remember reading about incidents where a man axed a girl to death because she rejected him? He could not handle a ‘NO!’ in a healthy way. It is why an old uncle will want to rape his niece because the girl’s parents died and he has taken care of her all her life. So she owes him that. Her body. It is why a priest will sodomize boys in the orphanage he established to help children from poor families. It is why a politician would refuse to accept defeat in an election. ‘I was supposed to win. I deserve victory. How could they possibly refuse to elect me? ´ You know what happens next? War! People lose their lives. Terrible, isn’t it?

From another angle, entitlement can be valuable. The belief that we have the right to take care of ourselves, the right to be respected by others and the right not to be hurt by them is crucial to our emotional well-being. It helps us set boundaries- it defines what we can and cannot accept- something any sober person would totally advocate for.
We are social creatures and while we interact, it is inevitable that we will have expectations from people. It is expecting my boyfriend (where are you?) to remember everything, and I will get really mad if he forgot my birthday. I expect him to remember. Parents are expected to be there for their children. I tell my dad I am grateful every time he gives me my fee slip, because as much as I am his daughter and he is responsible for my financial issues right now, I know there are people with fathers that are not really there for their children. I am not talking about those that genuinely don’t have the ability. This is about the irresponsible ones- you know one or two. We all think they are terrible, right? There would be more happy people in the world when there are less frustrations in relationships; when expectations are realistic, and when not met, addressed in amicable ways.
We need to understand that others also have their needs. Only when we learn to manage the balance between our needs and those of others can we have genuinely satisfying, intimate, life-affirming relationships with other people.

A Christian blogger, Trent Hamm puts it like this, ‘…being respectful of other people’s needs and wishes, while not neglecting our own is satisfying.’
I hope you will purpose to only pursue healthy relationships, that you will not be toxic to anyone by expecting too much from them, that you will not allow yourself to be manipulated by anyone into doing things for them because they made you believe that you owe them that. Boyfriend, do not forget her birthday. Also, get a new toothbrush because it has been a minute.

Now more than ever, be well.
Share this with those you love, follow Rusty fingers. Merci beaucoup!

Also, can someone share this article with a politician? We are entitled to access to healthcare facilities, equality, security, etc. That’s by all means a healthy sense of entitlement- you can take that to the bank.

“The temporality of all things, even of those we most cherish and most wish would stretch into eternity so that when love does vanish, we are left with the irrevocable gladness that it had entered our lives at all and animated them for the time that it did.” These are some of the words of Epictetus. Words to be borrowed and wisdom is to be found. How much soberness and a somber mood, these words bring. The shadow of grief. The suffering inevitable, the pain unimaginable, the paths, a horror to walk on, and such a dark tunnel to walk through.
In the preceding words, of this stoic philosopher, (perhaps this is where I should have started-“…That the antidote to this gutting grief is found not in hedging ourselves against prospective loss through artificial-self-protections but when loss does come, in orienting ourselves to it and what preceded it differently in training ourselves not only to accept but to embrace…”
Leaves you to ask,” how one would then be used to the, “temporality of all things”?” I honestly have the balancing tears as I write this, for dear are them I have seen take the journey of no return. Never getting to say what I would want, see what with time I have become, the future in my mind I wanted us to be in…but what is death?

“It is useless,” the man of much wisdom once said. A much lesser quote by Joan Didion,” Grief when it comes is nothing like we expect it to be.” It is whole in many pieces, mixed feelings and at times a tone of thoughts and endless questions. It’s such certainty, a central certainty of our existence. Life is surely unfair. I close my eyes and the images of them left are so clear in mind. I can almost touch, feel and talk to them but then…
It is a raw nerve that is touched. Nothing can hoard us from its consuming grip. One would think from much of the news about loss at some point it is going to get better. The breaking news is: It will be new, like again witnessing the rise of the sun, that though yesterday you saw it and experienced it, today is another day, you will still see it and have to experience it afresh. Where is this joy that comes in the morning?
Knowing that twitter lies a little, and though with a pinch of truth it is sprinkled sparsely, one finds tweets that so resembles if not reflect such truth times and moments and, at times with this, so much sense is tied in these succinct words. Donovan Mitchell tweets: Man if 2020 is telling us anything …. it’s telling us: enjoy the moments we have and don’t take any day…. anything… or anyone for granted.
I saw you nod your head. It feels as if one would unplug this year and run it again to just see whether the “glitch” that is here will still be there. The head of death has really glared its ugly head from the coverings and the shadow it’s casting…OH! LORD!! St. Augustine said, “Love, but be careful what you love.” How do you even do that? How do you then live? Man is not an Island, and if he be he will have inhabitants. We will ever be social; we are social beings. It’s love we crave, it’s a partner we want, it’s a pat on the back, It’s the voice to remind us we can, it’s where home is.

So here with a loss: a lost pat, a lost assurance, a lost laughter, lost love, lost home, lost a piece if not the whole of you. What great raid?! Ah!
With such wise words did Abraham Lincoln write in regards to a friend dealing with loss and in grief, “…The memory of your dear Father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer and holier sort than you have known before.” Though not your father you have lost, grief has knocked and resides in some place in your heart. I am sorry; I really am. With such astuteness Maria Popova observes that, to retain the memory of love’s sweetness without letting the pain of partying and loss embitter it, is perhaps is the greatest challenge for the bereaved heart and its greatest achievement.
Grief most times narrows and blunts the wider and longer view of life. To what “…wider and longer view of life…”be (back to Epictetus words) “… that the antidote to this gutting grief is found not in hedging ourselves against prospective loss through artificial-self-protections but when loss does come, in orienting ourselves not only to accept but to embrace the temporality of all things, even those we most cherish and most wish would stretch into eternity so that when love does vanish, we are left with the irrevocable gladness that it had entered our live at all and animated them for the time that it did.”
Acceptance….
Take a moment…
You see them? They are gone…yes! They left us … It is a void they leave with us. They were not selfish regardless their exit. The wheel of life turns, “Why did it have to be them?” who knows? Are we not all on a journey, sojourners in this phase of life? What do you think of the uncountable stars in the sky? If there be a GOD, is HE unfair? How the beam balance has to balance?!
I wish not a paralyzing devastation, that though no perfect relief except with time, you sure to be happy again. You sure to live a life, you sure to enjoy the blissful times that are to follow. Endeavour to go through the hard times of sorrow, mourning, heartbreak and misery. The sun will shine again tomorrow. Flowers will once again blossom. The grass will again be green.
And to them before us preceded, from time to eternity, in this time to hold eternity, to the memories, to the smiles and tears, to the aches and ease, to the tears and cheers thank you for the little or much.
To end this, my reader, rusty fingers entreats you mull over this,’ The greatest dignity to be found in death is the dignity of the life that preceded it.”
Endeavor to live, will you?

Bonjour! We learnt Hawaiian the other day (Aloha, remember?) You otherwise would have parted with some good dimes to get these lessons, but I am here for you. You are welcome! How are you? I mean this in every sense. Socially? Physically? Emotionally? Spiritually? How are you? I truly hope you are fine, and if you’re not, I truly hope and pray you will be better sooner than later. You need to be fine, yeah? (You better respond “yeah”)
I was to write this article two weeks ago, but I could not, so here I am now.
Are there not moments your eyes get to see beauty, beauty beyond, awesomeness in its fullness, that not only your sense of sight gets to see but you get to relate with every sense and though intense, every sense senses.
Here is a story of my sense of sight and other senses, I hope it makes your senses intenses.
(Based on a true story….)

My friend and I were walking hurriedly to the exam hall, all tensed, anxious, and almost scared, for the “beast” we were supposed to face. You know, those units that make you doubt your intellect and threaten your sanity? That is beside the point anyway. Here is the point- I witnessed something that I hadn’t ever. No! Not a comet that was falling on earth…I saw a beautiful woman!
Don’t get it twisted. I have seen very many beautiful women before, but this one was B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L! I don’t really know what words are appropriate here, but, stay with me. The world has somehow set a standard for beauty for women mostly. She should not be heavy, she should be slender, petite is the “thing.” Flawless skin is what is acceptable. American height? Yes to the yes! Don’t be too short. Stretch marks are not attractive at all. Cellulite should be hidden in jeans and long-sleeved tops, even when it feels like the sun is closer to the earth, or they (the sun) are suddenly two! Also, very kinky hair is neither professional nor attractive. Straighten it out or better yet, please relax it (like it is stressed. I hope you have watched the movie Nappily Ever After). That is why most beauty magazines will have slender women, with faces beat for the gods on their cover page, and in the few instances they have a BBW, as people love to refer to them, they follow it up with expert advice on how to lose weight, especially belly fat (did you not think of the “potty”) and fat around the arms.

That is why at the very back of these magazines, there are adverts of skin-lightening creams, weight-loss pills and teas, whose mode of operation I don’t understand. There are also a million options of hair-relaxers, but they forget to mention that they burn our scalp and cause our hairlines to recede, and make our hair control us and what we can or not do- do not play in the rain. Swimming is not fun anymore. Don’t go for boat-riding with unbraided hair.

The lady I beheld, in all her glory, her grace, had everything going on for her. I hope this sounds okay- she actually was about twice my size. More than 100 kilograms of awesomeness! She was short, making her weight more pronounced, and had worn a short dress, without sleeves. I couldn’t help but notice the cellulite on her thighs, the stretch marks on her arms and I said it out loud, ensuring it was not loud enough for her to hear whatever it was I had to say. It wasn’t until my friend responded that I realized how terrible I was. My exact words were, “Wow! Look at that girl. She is very confident. Yaani haogopi kuangaliwa hivyo vyote na watu?” She attracted a lot of attention from people. I felt disturbed by the fact that I actually thought something was wrong with some of the aspects of her appearance. That she needed to hide some things, not because she wanted to, but so she could avoid being looked at, some type of way. My friend turned and said, “Yes! She is confident. Njoki you cannot even wear a vest because of your back and arms…” Ouch! This was my wake up call. I was shook, then I realized my reaction stemmed from my own insecurities.

Recurrent eczema and severe acne on my back made me prefer tops that hide all that stuff, so I didn’t have to answer the questions that I would find annoying, “What is wrong with your skin? What happened?” For those that knew not to ask any question, the long stares were louder. For a long time I loathed going to the swimming pool, not that I know how to swim anyway, but I just did not want questions.
Perfection is really an illusion, yet it is what we are all chasing. It is okay to not exactly love everything about ourselves, but it is not okay to let our insecurities hold us back. The flatness in places you would have wanted curves. The scars you would give anything to fade. The stretch marks, those lines, are extra lines to love. Your hair that doesn’t seem to grow as fast as you’d love it to, or isn’t as soft and curly as your sister’s or mother’s, is yours to take care of. The nails you keep biting, are yours to really take care of, and love!
The one suffering from obesity would, do a lot better when reminded of the benefits of having a mass within the acceptable range, for the health reasons, not when told to take expensive pills to lose weight fast, nor ‘Men don’t love big girls.’ We should be taught to take care of our different skin types, not getting tips on how to be lighter in 7 days. This cuts across, for men and women alike. Men who lack sleep because they think their girlfriends have cheated on them because they have one strong village where they would have wanted six packs. We will be celebrating Women’s Day, and for the women that came before us- the women that bore us and raised us, let us love ourselves and love each other, and create healthy spaces where none of us feels inadequate because of what we have or don’t have. Let us root for each other enough to say, ‘Yes! We will work out together to achieve your goal weight, but I am loving you anyway. There is more of you to love and experience, than your weight which you wish was different.’ Don’t get it twisted. Loving and accepting ourselves does not mean we will not improve aspects of ourselves that can be improved, but we will not beat ourselves up for things we have no control over, like our unusually big toes. Ha! We cannot trim those, or our size 7 and 8 feet, for which we cannot get shoes at thrift stores.
You are enough. It is ridiculous how enough you are. I hope you believe me. Meghan Trainor in a song I love (All about That Bass) says, ‘Every inch of you is perfect, from the bottom to the top.’ If you don’t believe me, at least believe her, cos, she’s awesome, and if you believe in God and His Word, and you should, David writes in Psalms 139:14, ‘I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works: and that, my soul knows right well.’ Know that right well. Spread love and joy in the spaces you find yourself in.
Till next time, be well!

With the red theme, it’s time I joined the masses. The old adage has been and still is “if you can’t beat them join them.” Now, is when cupid has random arrows in his quiver and me (the faithful assistant) I’m painting people red especially them, of completely no match. How the red screams danger and aliens here on earth are screaming love!! Human beings in Jupiter, must be dying to get on earth to witness this rare spectacle. Earth must have changed its color from the lively blue to red, boiling magma.
It’s to be 14th if it is already not.
Valentines!!
“Yaaay!” I mean @!&^#@.
I meant to say shucks but we all do that in the toilet( It’s funny how things have changed and all for the worse especially for the common folks who being on either side of the poverty line, (them the line is chasing and them chasing the line) the demand to supply is more than the supplier can fulfill the ‘market’. The economic times at this particular time is of no favor to anyone. I’m told meat is no longer sold in the famous “kaquora”, “kanuthu”,” gakiro” and for them from the suburbs”. (Forgive me rich kids, I’m only fighting for the scraps here.)
I’ve taken a keen interest to have my x-ray glasses on so as to see the “inner beauty” of the men and women, as I walk by the streets and it’s like opening history from the incognito tab. (we all know we have sinned…. And here is a prayer, ”forgive us Father for we have sinned”)
Walking with cupid has been fun. Until now he has shot no shot. I’ve tripped over and over and rather than paint deserving men and women red, I’ve randomly spilled on them the paint and none has complained. That’s a red flag! (It could be you were painted red!!) You are not in danger you are the danger! And here you are screaming love at the top of your voice, Buoy!! That is messed up.
“Akili ni nywele” and rusty finger has a Rasta man, therefore no way this would be anything below a dissertation by a PhD holder defending their thesis.
I’m not submitting one, however I will have my observations and my story about person x, why they are now retired, the slang is “ex”, and if there is person y, and why? These are some juices, you have to be hydrated remember.
On this cursed land I have seen beautiful stories. The candle marrying the wax. The moon going for the sun. The chaff going for the wind. The peace going for the storm. The innocent going for the guilty. The prey going for the predator. The loyalty condescending for the commoner. The beauty going for the beast. White going for dirt. And the question is why always that?
We will possibly grow old faster trying to decode this. Though there are lessons to be learned more than there is to shun the “L” word. It’s always beautiful until you want to keep it for yourself. It is for the good of the people, by the people, to the people. Keep it to self and you eat the apple and you mess life in the garden of Eden and it’s now a life of toil, sweat, regret and death.
Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it does not boast, it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not self-seeking, it keeps no record of wrongs. It does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
In all definitions of love this is more home. No wonder love “misfits”. But is it really misfits? Is it really blind?

Aloha! (This is me practicing my knowledge on the Hawaiian language cos that’s my next holiday destination. Amen!) Aloha is “Damn January!”
So hello!? Are you alright, in this year called January? Or Njaanuary as most of y’all like to call it? Let’s stick with January for the sake of our readers from America, Timbuktu, Ouagadougou, Kiribati and South Africa who don’t know what ‘njaa’ is, you know!
Most people have this attitude about this month- it for some reason feels longer than it actually is. I’m told to write this in small fonts, January might see and swallow codeine. The pockets are more often than not empty, actually, they are non-existent!! All of a sudden there is a silent declaration you are a vegan and the meat you have is what you have on your bones. January is sure the enemy of the people. The enemy of progress. An abusive relationship, such strong adhesive forces at work until death….
Having some you exposing your perfect lives, I happen to snoop around. And one thing is true for a majority of you – YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR THE MONTH TO END! Talk of the devil…

I really don’t get why you’re feeling like that.(My apologies) January is when I have the most money and I feeling like I’m on top of the world. Everything is perfect on my end! That’d be me lying to you. I really have nothing much against this month. Being broke has never been much of a big deal though (I have no salary, so brokeness=lifestyle! Ha!) Also, I feel like the month should stay here with us longer because I have exams early next month and I low-key (actually high-key, like the highest key there is) feel that more time would ensure more preparation. You Feel me? No? Yes? It’s whatevs! Whatever we feel or want or need will not change time’s mind. Today is 29th January, and the next will be the 30th day of this month in this decade.
(Disclaimer: Rastaman here is as white as snow. I suffer with all you folks in this quicksand. In this slough of despond I relate and feel you. Njoki knows Bill Gates, how does Njaanuary not affect her?)

There is a woman I love, Patricia Kihoro, if you don’t follow her, you really should. She’s so real! So perfect, yet so human. Ah! I could write a 10000-word blog about her but that’s beside the point. In her most recent post, she asked, ‘Anyone else struggling through January? I’ve been feeling like I’m stuck in really thick mud or quick sand, and it’s taking so much more effort to do things that usually don’t require so much energy…’ She went on to ask people to share their experiences and boy, oh boy! People are having it rough! From finally acknowledging past trauma that is affecting them, being in abusive relationships, trouble acquiring an education, others being diagnosed with severe depression with psychotic features, anxiety attacks even while having a basic conversation about the weather, etc. Very many things are holding people back and I don’t know what your issue is (read, issues are). If you’re struggling to build momentum for this New Year, this new decade, you are not alone. One day at a time! Seek help when you need to.(call a friend, visit your grandparents, unplug for a day… Do whatever works for you!) Take care of yourself even when taking a shower feels like a task.(We know with the current weather, you are free of your sins.)
If you haven’t hit the gym yet, or if you did only on 4th and 5th January, if you drank water last on Saturday morning, if you’re still getting late to every place, if you haven’t read a single page of any book, do not be hard on yourself. Actually be hard on yourself!(though not too hard). Tell yourself it was a trial month (though there is really no such thing) and purpose to do better, because you deserve better. You better “bet,tetter” your better.
Time is a holy mystery. It does not matter what kind of time it is- Greenwich, Standard, Mountain or Pacific. We just never seem to have enough of it, and that should not stop you from doing what you ought to – you are here now! Life, in January, in July and December, is like a series of surviving quicksand; there are always things to be done. Don’t let the quicksand swallow you. You won’t love it!
Also, February is just (count your fingers lazy bones!!There is no way you will fail to go to the gym, fail to go for the morning jogs and I still count days to your date! Huh!) Februar-yay!

If there’s nothing you love about January, I thought you’d love this:
Leap years exempted, January. In leap years, January always begins on the same day as April and July! How cool is that?
Enjoy every day of your life, and spread love and light in the spaces you find yourself in. Be well!

Aloha! (This is me practicing my knowledge on the Hawaiian language cos that’s my next holiday destination. Amen!) Aloha is “Damn January!”
So hello!? Are you alright, in this year called January? Or Njaanuary as most of y’all like to call it? Let’s stick with January for the sake of our readers from America, Timbuktu, Ouagadougou, Kiribati and South Africa who don’t know what ‘njaa’ is, you know!
Most people have this attitude about this month- it for some reason feels longer than it actually is. I’m told to write this in small fonts, January might see and swallow codeine. The pockets are more often than not empty, actually, they are non-existent!! All of a sudden there is a silent declaration you are a vegan and the meat you have is what you have on your bones. January is sure the enemy of the people. The enemy of progress. An abusive relationship, such strong adhesive forces at work until death….
Having some you exposing your perfect lives, I happen to snoop around. And one thing is true for a majority of you – YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR THE MONTH TO END! Talk of the devil…

I really don’t get why you’re feeling like that.(My apologies) January is when I have the most money and I feeling like I’m on top of the world. Everything is perfect on my end! That’d be me lying to you. I really have nothing much against this month. Being broke has never been much of a big deal though (I have no salary, so brokeness=lifestyle! Ha!) Also, I feel like the month should stay here with us longer because I have exams early next month and I low-key (actually high-key, like the highest key there is) feel that more time would ensure more preparation. You Feel me? No? Yes? It’s whatevs! Whatever we feel or want or need will not change time’s mind. Today is 29th January, and the next will be the 30th day of this month in this decade.
(Disclaimer: Rastaman here is as white as snow. I suffer with all you folks in this quicksand. In this slough of despond I relate and feel you. Njoki knows Bill Gates, how does Njaanuary not affect her?)

There is a woman I love, Patricia Kihoro, if you don’t follow her, you really should. She’s so real! So perfect, yet so human. Ah! I could write a 10000-word blog about her but that’s beside the point. In her most recent post, she asked, ‘Anyone else struggling through January? I’ve been feeling like I’m stuck in really thick mud or quick sand, and it’s taking so much more effort to do things that usually don’t require so much energy…’ She went on to ask people to share their experiences and boy, oh boy! People are having it rough! From finally acknowledging past trauma that is affecting them, being in abusive relationships, trouble acquiring an education, others being diagnosed with severe depression with psychotic features, anxiety attacks even while having a basic conversation about the weather, etc. Very many things are holding people back and I don’t know what your issue is (read, issues are). If you’re struggling to build momentum for this New Year, this new decade, you are not alone. One day at a time! Seek help when you need to.(call a friend, visit your grandparents, unplug for a day… Do whatever works for you!) Take care of yourself even when taking a shower feels like a task.(We know with the current weather, you are free of your sins.)
If you haven’t hit the gym yet, or if you did only on 4th and 5th January, if you drank water last on Saturday morning, if you’re still getting late to every place, if you haven’t read a single page of any book, do not be hard on yourself. Actually be hard on yourself!(though not too hard). Tell yourself it was a trial month (though there is really no such thing) and purpose to do better, because you deserve better. You better “bet,tetter” your better.
Time is a holy mystery. It does not matter what kind of time it is- Greenwich, Standard, Mountain or Pacific. We just never seem to have enough of it, and that should not stop you from doing what you ought to – you are here now! Life, in January, in July and December, is like a series of surviving quicksand; there are always things to be done. Don’t let the quicksand swallow you. You won’t love it!
Also, February is just (count your fingers lazy bones!!There is no way you will fail to go to the gym, fail to go for the morning jogs and I still count days to your date! Huh!) Februar-yay!

If there’s nothing you love about January, I thought you’d love this:
Leap years exempted, January. In leap years, January always begins on the same day as April and July! How cool is that?
Enjoy every day of your life, and spread love and light in the spaces you find yourself in. Be well!