I really love whatever’s been happening to me this week. Well, it’s only been two days of waking up at 5 am., and I kinda love that I get to have a longer day:-) I woke up at 5 am. on Monday, then at 9 am yesterday. (this is the person I really am), and I’ve woken up at 5 am. today (the person I aspire to be). I read the book, ‘The 5 AM. CLUB’ by Robin Sharma sometime in 2020 and I got the hype about waking up early, and did it for two days, and stopped, cos let’s be honest – in 2020, the world demanded that we slow down. Hello Covid?

I know I’ll be feeling sleepy by 4 pm., but it won’t matter cos by 9 am. today, I’ll have gotten four hours of work in, so I can have a slow afternoon, of reading, napping, painting, or whatever. My dad and Solomon would be hella proud of me, lol – my dad is a HUGE ADVOCATE for waking up early. Solomon in Proverbs 31 lauds women who wake up before dawn to prepare food and plan the day. Guess who he was talking about there? Me, guy. Njoks.

This post isn’t about sleep, or alarms, or rising early, though. I just needed two paragraphs of celebrating myself for being an early riser, haha.

This post is about that thing on your head – your hair. Your mane. Do you have a name for it? No? I don’t either. I probably should, like those girls who name their boobies – Amanda (left boobie) and Alexis (right boobie), or Amani (left boobie) and Upendo (right boobie), or Wanjiru and Mumbi… I would probably name my hair ‘Uwepo’, which translates to ‘Presence’ cos one thing my hair has been, is PRESENT . I’ve just always had it, even when I was studying in Nyanza and had to keep it short.

Recently, I had an interesting experience – This may sound like story za jaba, but here it is – I think there’s actually something spiritual about having locks. For 25 years of my life, I had loose, black hair – predominantly in cornrows for the first 13 years (primary school), and cut short in high school, and in braids or bantu knots or twists or twist-outs or puffs in campus. In 2023, I locked my hair cos I was tired. I was tired of washing, treating, detangling, periodic heat styling, and having to choose a hairstyle every four to five weeks. Plus, I was going back to school and felt like I just didn’t have the energy nor time to manage my big, thick hair.

Now, when left alone (zero to low manipulation (just keeping it clean)), an African person’s hair locks automatically, cos of how curly our hair is – think about how your hair gets when it’s loose, without straightening and combing daily. I wanted to hasten the process, so I went to the hairstylist for lock partitioning/sizing and left it alone – it’s been 1.5 years since. I only wash it, and barely apply anything. In fact, for a year, you’re advised not to even oil it – just wash, and let it be. Sebum, the oil produced naturally by the scalp, suffices to nourish the hair as it locks, and even, I think, when it’s loose.

Being a loose natural almost automatically makes you a product junkie – consumerism is promoted like no one’s business- prepoo, shampoo, rinse-out conditioner and treatment, leave-in conditioner and treatment, oil, butter, mousse, styling gel, different combs and brushes, a laundry list of braid types to choose from…

Now, I only have shampoo and a hair spray, and somehow, I feel soo connected, to something, to God, to myself, to my ancestors also? That might be a bit farfetched. I don’t know much about what Ellen White’s work, but I know she says somewhere that we should be ‘modest’ (I put this word in quotes because I don’t like it – ‘modesty’ is used as a weapon against women to sit pretty, not speak up not provoke… I’ll invite Millie Odhiambo to speak about this sometime in future, lol) by wearing our hair out as is, natural, avoiding hair extensions, braids, and wigs, and by so doing we encourage mental clarity because ‘wigs add baggage’ both literally and spiritually, as it were.

In the past, whenever I’d hear Adventist pastors say that, I’d be like, ‘Alaa! Really? Sounds a bit farfetched tbh… What’s really wrong with braids and wigs? Y’all are being a bit extreme…’, cos boy, did I love knotless braids!? Fluffy kinky nyasuba braids? I’m not saying braids and wigs and chemicals and treatments are bad. No. I’m just saying that somehow, I feel better and different without them.

I locked my hair, and I think I understand why God asked Nazarites to grow theirs out – why Samson had locks – why it represented/was his strength. Why the powerful Mau Mau who fought for our independence had locks. Even Rastafarians know something we don’t – they keep their hair like that to show devotion to God (they call him ‘Jah’) and to avoid the materialistic and oppressive Western world – the materialistic world that made us believe that straight hair is the only ‘perfect hair’, introducing relaxers and flat iron tools and everything. I have to say, again, that every woman/person should wear their hair as they please – even now I can throw on a wig when I feel like it. You’re allowed to texlax or relax it, or to dye it red, or to install long braids… This blog is just your cue to rethink how you see and take care of your hair, because there’s something there.

In fact, my friend and I were talking sometime last week and she said, ‘Btw, I shaved my hair. I felt like it was carrying a lot of trauma…’ She was basically saying that her hair was carrying bad energy cos of some experience she had when having that hair, and I agree with her fully, cos a few days before we had that conversation, a man randomly touched my hair in town (a tout at Koja, Nairobi), like, ‘Wow! Supuuu! Uko smart na hizo locks zimeweza…’ He also had locks, really long and luscious ones but I didn’t touch him cos I respect people’s personal space. I don’t like being touched by strangers. I know you don’t either. Anyhoo, when he touched my hair and held some of my locks in his hands for a couple of seconds, I literally felt as if power had left me… It was a very strange and interesting feeling. Perhaps it was just in my head, I don’t know.

What is your hair? Does it mean anything to you? Other than for spiritual reasons that you may not believe in, don’t you think that growing your hair out as naturally as possible is better for our planet’s health, and consequently, ours too? Don’t you think it’s more sustainable? Braids are made of plastic fibers. Do you know where they go after you’ve uninstalled them, every four weeks? All those oils and conditioners in your bathroom packaged in plastic? Do you really think you need four tubs of conditioners and so on – for rinsing out, for leaving in and so on? Do you think it’s sustainable? No?

The planet, our home, demands that we do better, as it flashes red warning signals. Pluuusssss, our hair, loose or locked, is cute and big and more often than not, it defies gravity, so why not wear it natural, with minimal products, more often?

Let’s think about it.

Yours, thoughtfully,

Njoks, with 389 locks. Samson had 7.

Today, you are Sharon, and I need you to calm down. Do you feel like you should? Yes? I thought so.

Hi, reader. What’s good? I hope you have been alright. I’ve mostly been well, and I thank our good God.

Now, last week, I did not blog even once, and yesterday, briefly, I beat myself up about it because ‘Njoki, look at you being inconsistent. You said you’d be blogging daily. See, you’re breaking your own promises to yourself. Are you even serious about your goals and all the plans you have for your blog? Get your act together.’ I sat in that for a short while and then remembered something I learnt a while back, about speaking to yourself, or thinking about yourself, in the second or third person perspective, especially when tempted, or already are, to talk to yourself harshly – negative self talk.

Granted, self- accountability is important – it is healthy and productive to check in with yourself on your goals, but it’s not okay to put yourself in a bad mood by talking to yourself as though you’re your own enemy, or your own mean primary school teacher. I know you are a decent person, so how would you talk to your friend if they failed to achieve something? (2nd person). How would you talk to your friend about your other friend who didn’t do what they had said they’d do? (3rd person).

I know, for sure, that I wouldn’t tell my friend, ‘Peggy, look at you being inconsistent. You said you’d be blogging daily. See, you’re breaking your own promises to yourself. Are you even serious about your goals and all the plans you have for your blog? Get your act together. Stop making excuses…’, but I can talk to myself like that? Neither would I tell my friend Kimetto, ‘Kimetto, look at Peggy being inconsistent. She said she’d be blogging daily. See, she’s breaking her own promises to yourself. Is she even serious about her goals and all the plans she said she has for her blog? She needs to get her act together…’

We are kind to other people, but sometimes, we’re very unkind to ourselves. Today is the last day of March, meaning that the first quarter of the year is done. You probably set goals at the start of the year:

1. Work out four times every week.
2. Avoid Quickmart hotdogs.
3. Drink 3 litres of water daily.
4. Get at least 7 hours of sleep every night…

Perhaps your reality is:

1. Worked out in January only.
2. Been eating Quickmart hotdogs three times every week.
3. Last drank water 3 days ago cos it’s been raining and cold, and I only drink water when it’s hot.
4. I sleep at 2 am. scrolling mindlessly on Instagram and wake up at 5 am. to prepare for work – I’m grossly sleep-deprived (seriously, though, you need to take your sleep seriously, if this is you, lol. This is me telling you gentlyyyyy, in 2nd person)

Can you do better in Q2 and the rest of the year? Absolutely. It’s okay that you’ve not achieved everything you had set out to achieve – let us respect the limits of our humanity. To be human is to not get it ‘right’ all the time. I mean, even God, your Creator, extends grace to you, His creation. He’s superior. Why would YOU, the creation, be that hard on yourself for ‘failing’? Let’s rethink that.

So, yesterday, after sitting briefly in negative self talk, I leaned in to the 2nd person and said, ‘Njoki, you are serious about your goals and the plans you have for the blog. It’s okay that you’ve not blogged for a minute – you’ve been feeling unmotivated, you were in the throes of a break-up, and you also had an assignment that required more of your time. Plus, you have been consistent. It’s okay that you didn’t have the inspiration to write, and you don’t even have to do it today. WordPress will be ready when you are. Your readers will be ready when you are. Take it easy, okay?’ That’s how I’d have talked to my friend, and I am my own friend. I should be. Are you?

Have you been hard on yourself about anything – some goals or some habits you want to cultivate or break? Talk to yourself in 2nd or 3rd person today. You wouldn’t be mean to your friends, so do not be unnecessarily mean to yourself, either.

I’m getting my mojo back so I’ll be writing a lot more – I’m excited for Q2.

Thank you very much for being here, reader. I hope you missed me cos sure as hell, I had missed writing.

Talk soon.

Yours, with gentleness,

Njoks.

It’s a beautiful Friday afternoon – starting to write this at 1357 hours, hoping to be done by 1430 hours, right before my nephew, Armani, gets home from school. Where does time go?? He is now a whole pupil who knows the alphabet, number, and colours, and he has opinions!? He was a cute teeny-weeny child just the other day – the real OGs know. Where does time go?

I’ve asked that question two times now, and I find myself asking the same question whenever I’m on my phone, usually on Instagram. I never go there to do just one thing. Well, sometimes I do, like, ‘Ah! I saw furniture store X somewhere, let me follow them on IG so I can be seeing more of their work…’, then I get on Instagram and ‘forget’ to just follow them. I end up scrolling, even for an hour. Perhaps I’m undisciplined. Certainly, the algorithm ensures that we’re glued to our screens, because that’s how they (the social media platforms and advertisers) benefit, as they monetize our data, AND ATTENTION. I learnt this sometime back from a docuseries called ‘The Social Dilemma’ on Netflix.

They are all interconnected. Think about it: you search for a product y on your chrome browser, say, a linen shirt. Then you scroll for two minutes trying to find the best store, there on chrome. A few minutes later, you check your IG and suddenly see about five posts from stores selling linen items. The same thing will happen on YouTube, and before you know it, it’s been 2 hours. Poor eyes. Poor thumb. Poor brain. Information overload. More money for those guys. Perhaps you’ll purchase the linen shirt from one of the stores, or not.

They are smart – they have to be. They use algorithms to create addictive experiences, analyzing your data to personalize content and advertisements, which translates to higher revenue through advertising and possibly, selling.

I primarily use WhatsApp which for a long time didn’t feel like ‘social media’, cos it was just about me connecting with friends and family, and acquaintances from church or school or wherever. Then, gradually, Meta started ‘social-medializing’ it – they introduced status updates (which I love), then introduced channels (for football, entertainment, education, etc.), and communities (for hobbies such as hiking, for church activities, and so on). Then very recently, they added the music feature to the WhatsApp status section, and I ABSOLUTELY DISLIKE IT. WhatsApp is starting to feel noisy, and I know I love to make noise on WhatsApp – I post almost daily, and engage with my community daily, but I’ve been able to do that because WhatsApp felt more regulated. Now, I’m afraid, it doesn’t. I don’t have X. Neither do I have Snapchat and TikTok and everything else – I use IG and YouTube, and only created my IG account when I started doing business – first, in 2020 (Forever Living products) and deleted the app when I left the business, then reactivated IG recently for www.econjia.com.

Granted, social media has NUMEROUS BENEFITS! I mean, a good number of people have built careers off of social media, and that’s GREAT. We, businesspeople, use social media to share knowledge, create community and market our products/services, which leads to referrals, partnerships, revenue generation, and all of that good stuff. I’m into that. Oh, it’s also great for entertainment – my friends and sister are always sending me reels. I send them some too. It’s fun, until one funny reel leads you to fifteen funnier ones. You know how it goes.

My friend, Kimetto, taught me how to post properly on IG and I had fun yesterday – posting polls and all, and interestingly, gaining a few more followers today. Just like most things, it’s a system – there are things you can/should do to increase engagement – post reels, follow other creatives and comment on their work, post more frequently, post at certain times… It’s a lot. It feels like a lot of work, and although consistency is the name of the game, I feel like social media isn’t for me.

Furthermore, I am a highly sensitive person, so I absorb emotions through the screen, and sometimes I need a few minutes after doomscrolling to calm my nervous system down, because there’s always something negative online – someone was thrown out of a moving SuperMetro because they didn’t have KSh. 30. A kid was raped and murdered, and her body was dumped in a dam. A man poured acid on his wife. The president continues to make terrible decisions. Gaza. A French woman was gang-raped for years by her husband and his buddies. It’s a lot.

Then, there is this other side of consumerism – the side that makes me want to buy almost every good thing I see. La Roche Posay sunscreen is great. Try the Uncover one too. CosRX does the job well too. You want a console. Furniture Palace has such good stuff. So does Ashley Furniture Store. There’s a cheaper fundi at Kasarani, actually. No, actually, you can DIY. Here are three videos showing you how to make a console at home. You want to design your space. Here are 10,000 interior designers, with 70 different styles. Decision fatigue. Mental tiredness. Comparison, because the girl from your high school who was in form one when you were in form four now has three cars, a wealthy husband, a child, a private chef, and a dog, while you’re there trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, so you can set your alarm, to wake up early to go to work a job you hate.

Social media is a tool, undeniably, when used in a controlled, intentional manner, like, ‘I’ll just get on there, create one post for EcoNjia, follow guys with similar interests, respond to inquiries, and leave. I’ll be there for 20 minutes max.’ If discipline fails, and your screen time is crazy, I think it’s important to rethink social media use. What is in it for you? Entertainment? Is it? Enhanced connection? Access to information? Anxiety cos of comparison? Eye problems? Time wastage, when you could have been doing more ‘real’ stuff, as it were? Connecting with people and things around you? Reading a book? Being involved in actual community work in your church and schools around your home?

I’ve been feeling like social media is not for me. I also know that I need more people to know about my work to boost impact and revenue, so it’s a dance – trying to figure out other ways to market my work, possibly hiring a social media manager to deal with EcoNjia’s online presence so that I don’t have to, and/or blogging more consistently, delivering high-quality material, and hiring an SEO expert to ensure that my website can be found more easily, without having to use IG or TikTok or X.

Yes, I feel calmer and more grounded whenever I’m off social media. Yes, I’m afraid that quitting will hurt my business. Yes, I know there are other ‘quieter’ ways to market my work. No, I’m not sure that I’ll delete my IG soon. I’m just really seriously considering it. I think I’ll quit – we’ll see what happens. Do you like social media? Has it enslaved you or are you using it mindfully and sustainably? Let me know – I’m curious.

My nephew isn’t home yet. He should be here soon, yay!

Now, I’m about to go brew some tea (read this tea if you didn’t, and get some tea CELEBRATING A WIN), and enjoy the yummy chapati my aunty oh so lovingly cooked earlier today, yay!

May you have a beautiful, restful weekend, surrounded by love, from your family, your lover, your friends, or from yourself.

Be well, reader.

Yours, with care,

Njoks.

I hope you sang this line.

Well, first things first, I hope you know that song. Here’s a short clip: https://youtu.be/HlBYdiXdUa8?si=b-IoFdDN8B_MS86e.

Now, tell me why. Tell me why these things happen (to good people like you and I). Here’s a list of random not-so-random things I don’t like:

1. When I’m eating crisps from a bag mindlessly, and then I put my hand inside the bag to grab more crisps, only to find that the bag is EMPTY. Like, my taste buds, teeth and tongue were ready, and there are no crisps in the bag?? Are you kidding me? Who else is in this house? A ghost? My ancestors who never ate potatoes from plastic bags? It better be those guys. This feeling is similar to the one you get when you’ve had a long day, and then you’ve been looking forward to getting home to eat the yummy piece of salted caramel cake you had left in the fridge, only to get home to find that someone else ate it.
2. When everything in the house decides to ‘vanish’. It usually happens at the same time – the day you use the last drops of skincare items will be the day your cooking oil runs out. It will also be the day that you put the last spoonfuls of sugar in your tea. If the devil has visited you, it will also be the day that your cooking gas runs out, in the middle of cooking ugali or rice. You will need to buy gas, sugar, cooking oil, and skincare items, and you will part with a pretty penny, and you will not like it.
3. KPLC power outages!! We need to fire these guys. The lights just go off at the worst time possible – when working on something, when watching something… They need to do better.
4. When I knock my teeny-weeny toe against my bed, somehow. That shit hurts like hell. I know you know what I’m talking about, right?
5. When listening to music with someone, and then they keep pressing ‘NEXT’ right when you’re starting to sing along, vibing to the song. Like, ‘Karen, I was really enjoying ‘Nenda Lote’. Why are we now listening to ‘Suzanna’. Give ‘Nenda Lote’ time, please. Respectfully.
6. When random guys call and ask, ‘Na naongea na nani?’, like, ‘Excuse me, sir. You called. Tell me who you are and why you’re calling before tukosane vibaya sana.’
7. Is the number of completion. I won’t write about one of the things I dislike. On the contrary, I’ll tell you what I love. I love writing, a lot, and I love that you’re here, reading and sharing my work. Look at you!! Your presence here makes me happy. Put your phone down, and embrace yourself. Squeeze yourself, warmly, and tenderly.

I hope that you feel like you like yourself, radically. It’s important.

You like yourself. What random-not-so-random things do you dislike? People chewing loudly and/or with open mouths? Yeah? Me too.

Let’s engage below.

Thanks for being here, really. We’ll talk again soon.

Yours, with everything nice,

Njoks.

Desire.

I’m just gonna put this out there in case Santa comes across my blog, or in case you are the Santa. Are you?

Here are the things I want:

1. A Range Rover Sport. No, I have nothing against small cars, and I know there is beauty in humble beginnings, but then again, I have some Luo blood all in, and I’m a big girl. I can only drive a big car. Also, Nairobi weather has been quite fickle – the sun wanted to finish us last week, but now it’s raining. A car makes moving around easier, especially now that SuperMetro is misbehaving. There’s an incident I witnessed and wrote about (https://atomic-temporary-151151331.wpcomstaging.com/2025/01/22/ire/), and recently a tout threw a man from a moving bus!!?? What the actual hell? I need a Range Rover Sport, like yesterday.
2. KSh. 20 M. There are projects I want to run. I can’t rob a bank. I could plead with Santa, though.
3. A fully-sponsored trip to Southern Africa – I want to visit Cape Town, Maseru, Port Louis, Maputo, Windhoek, Lusaka, Antananarivo, you know!
4. An unlimited Furniture Palace shopping voucher because I have saved 1,001 inspo pics for house décor. Decorating is no child’s play – I need lamps, regal frames, sexy rugs, and all of that good stuff.

5. I want all of the above.

What things do you currently desire? If you could get just one wish granted, what material thing would you want Santa to deliver to you? Let me know in the comments section. Again, Santa just might read this blog. Yummm!

Yours, with desire,

Njoks.

Oh! I’ve just remembered something else I desire – some book collection at Sarit’s Text Book Centre – they have such a fire collection! I went there the other day and wanted to buy aaaaalll their books. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

You guys remember that I recently ate rabbit meat, right? No, I haven’t eaten it again, however much I’d like to. What’s your favourite meal, and why? Is it cos of its taste, or texture, or the memories associated with it? Food reminds us of things/people/places – e.g., whenever I smell/eat popcorn and/or sweet mandazi, I remember the times when my mother would cook and pack them for my sister a few hours before leaving for school. My sister studied in Uganda, so her departure was always an event – a lot of cooking, long goodbyes, a lot of popcorn. Food is more than just taste, aroma, and texture.

I am primarily Kikuyu, and recently, my neighbour and I had a conversation about what food means to us, as a people, as the Kikuyu, and why we treat food the way we do. She is Kikuyu, too. No, you don’t have to be Kikuyu to keep reading this – tribalism, be damned. I’d like to put a point across, to make you curious, to teach you, hopefully, so stay with me, Onyango.

Now, if you’ve been around West Africans, you know that they refer to us (Kenyans) as the most westernized Africans, mostly because of how/what we eat. I had Nigerian and Ghanaian classmates and their foods were interesting, I thought. I once met Rejoice on a Sunday looking tired, and she was like, ‘Yeah, I’m tired. After church, I went to the house to prepare soups for the week…’ and I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ She then explained that soup-making is a thing – blending 1,001 ingredients, adding pepper, and PALM OIL!!!! I was once invited somewhere and could barely eat anything cos their foods are oily, and very yellow – leaving the plate looking shiny and colourful. West Africans found our Kenyan food boring – like, you give them ugali, sukumawiki and beef, and they’re like, ‘Where’s the soup? This is too dry…‘ I once went to the market with Anthonette (Liberian), and Efosa (Nigerian), and Efosa bought some ingredients, saying, ‘These will go well with the snails I have left in my house, plus fufu.’ SNAILS!!! I was in shock. Those guys even eat cow skin. Beauty in diversity, they say.

This conversation with my neighbour got me thinking about two things: why Kenyans eat fewer foods (in comparison to West and South Africans), and why Kikuyus are known to mix everything in one pot – mashakura – only Kikuyus can cook githeri, cabbage, potatoes and carrots in one pot. Some even add meat to githeri. Only Kikuyus can mix maize flour and potatoes to make ‘ngunjamatu’. Kikuyus can just cook ten things in one pot – that’s what we’re known for. I didn’t get an answer to the first question, but our conveersation revealed the answer to the second question – why we mix stuff in one pot.

Do you want to guess what the answer is? No?

The answer is colonialism.

The wazungu came and settled in our region, Central Kenya, due to the region’s fertile land, cool climate, and suitability for European farming – we, Kikuyus, suffered colonialism the hardest. We had the Mau Mau fighting and hiding in the forests, and the wives and sisters at homes cooking for the men, sneaking to the Mau Mau hide-out joints to deliver food, when they were not being raped by the wazungu. Just like in any society, there were those resisting (hence fighting) and there were snitches, the sycophants, who worked alongside the colonialist government to oppress the resistors, and to tell on them, like, ‘Hey! Guku kwina nyumba ya Kangethe. Imwana ithatu ii mutituini na airetu matwaraga irio thaa kenda o muthenya. Ukai mwone makiruga…’ Translation: This is Kangethe’s household. They have three sons in the forests and their sisters cook and deliver food at around 3 pm every day. Come see…’ That’s how the wazungu would sometimes find the Mau Mau. That’s how they’d find women and girls to punish, so we had to be creative.

To deliver nutritious food, that can be prepared quickly, and hidden fast if necessary, we had to mix everything in one pot – maximum goodness in one pot. Our men needed energy to run and fight, so ngunjamatu, a mixture of ugali and potatoes, provided that. Githeri mixed with cabbage, potatoes, kales, and meat provides vitamins, protein, and carbs – a balanced diet. Whenever the women would hear the wazungu approaching, they would hide the one pot easily, usually somewhere in the earth (they dug up a secret hole somewhere in the kitchen), or somewhere above our traditional ceiling boards. It’s easier to hide one pot fast than to hide three pots, each containing a different meal -one with githeri, another with potatoes, and another with veggies. Food had to be mixed up to increase our survival chances, and something about that makes me proud to be Kikuyu -we may not be known to have the tastiest meals, but we are a resilient and smart people, and we continue to occupy space.

If you’re Kikuyu and still love to mix things up like I do, well, you got it from your ancestors. Now, no wazungus are trying to catch you cooking, to flog or rape or kill you for cooking for your kinsmen. You are safe, mostly, so learn some recipes from West Africa or Western Kenya or wherever, and invest in many cute, functional cooking pots, since your ancestors couldn’t.

Are you Kikuyu? Do your grandparents tell you about how they experienced the colonial era?

Are you Kisii? Could you kindly tell me why you guys like amabera maruranu with the floating liquid and sinking, dense balls?

Where are you from, and what’s your food story? If you don’t know could Let’s engage below.

Don’t forget to like, share, and subscriiiibe. I’m judging you if you haven’t, lol.

Thank you for being here. May your weekend be restful and nice.

Yours, insightfully,

Njoks.

A few metres from my house, there is a shop I love to visit. No, not because they sell items at a cheaper price (that’d have been really nice), but because the shop is run by a blind person – I’m talking about total blindness. not partial. He cannot see.

The first time I went to his shop, there was a guy there helping him to put charcoal in different containers (he sells groceries and charcoal), so I thought that the guy putting charcoal in the containers was his full-time assistant. I observed and noticed that the guy only helps him to open the shop in the morning, and then close in the evening, but the blind guy runs the shop solo throughout the day. Well, of course, it got me thinking – how many challenges does he face as a blind shopkeeper? How many conmen and/or thieves visit his shop daily? What does he think about, in his quiet moments? Was he born blind, or did he develop an illness later on in his life? I have very many questions but I cannot ask him because we do not know each other like that.

The other day, I went to an optician to get photochromic, blue-blocking glasses because of my crazy screen time – I’m mostly working on my phone and/or laptop, and my eyes were starting to feel some type of way.

As I was trying out the different frames, I remembered that in primary school, I WAS OBSESSED WITH GLASSES. I used to think that people who wore glasses looked really cool. I still think they do, but I am not obsessed with them, cos now, well, I’m grown. So, I’d feign eye sickness, saying, ‘Mum, nikiwa kwa class, sioni blackboard vizuri, na najikuna macho sana na zinatoa machozi…’, so after complaining a few times, my mum took a day off and we went to the eye clinic at Mbagathi Hospital. There’s that chart with numbers and letters of different sizes that they ask you to rea, while standing at different positions relative to the chart – it’s the first step of diagnosing short-sightedness or long-sightedness. Now, I could see all the letters clearly, no matter how far I was from the chart – my eyesight was perfect, but I’d look at that small letter ‘x’ and tell the doctor and my mum that I was seeing letter ‘y’. I could see the small letter ‘e’ but I’d confidently say that I was seeing letter ‘c’.

They never gave me glasses. We went to Mbagathi about three times within one year and they’d give me eyedrops, every single time!! Kids can be dumb, haha. I thought I could trick the doctor, darn it! I gave up and stuck to wearing sunglasses, especially when the Nairobi sun decides to overdo everything.

Yes, I pity the blind shopkeeper (I hate referring to him like that, but I don’t have a choice cos I don’t know his name. Let’s call him Njuguna.), but he also teaches me a lot! He doesn’t want to have to borrow, so he runs a shop. Granted, there are people who take advantage, especially when it comes to the ‘Lipa Na M-Pesa’ option, cos Kenyans can be funny. He wouldn’t know whether you’ve sent him 100 bob, or ten bob, or whether you’ve sent him a flashback message!!!! It’s all a risky, yet worthwhile affair. I respect him and his business very much, because running a business is not for the fainthearted – it’s even more complex with a visual impairment, especially because he doesn’t have any special equipment/aid. I will be praying for him, and buying from him more often.

The title of today’s blog is ‘SEE’, inspired partly by my recent visit to an optician, the shopkeeper, and mostly, by a Bible passage that spoke to me, where God quite literally told Abram, ‘What You See Is What You Get.’ For context, this happened after Abram and Lot returned to Canaan from Egypt with their families, and because the land could not support both herds, conflict arose between Lot’s and Abram’s herdsmen. So, Abram, the peacemaker, had Lot choose wherever he wanted to settle, and Lot chose the plains of Jordan, and he left with his people, leaving Abram and God talking to each other.

God has an interesting personality, because I think it’d have been obvious that Abram would’ve occupied the area not selected by Lot, right? Here’s what’s written in Genesis 13:14-17:

¹⁴ And the Lord said to Abram, after Lot had separated from him: “Lift your eyes now and look from the place where you are—northward, southward, eastward, and westward; ¹⁵ for all the land which you see I give to you and your ^[a]descendants forever. ¹⁶ And I will make your descendants as the dust of the earth; so that if a man could number the dust of the earth, then your descendants also could be numbered. ¹⁷ Arise, walk in the land through its length and its width, for I give it to you.”

God told Abram to look – north, south, east, and west – that all the land he could see, would be given to him. The further he could see, the more he’d have gotten, basically, and vice versa. It got me thinking a lot about what I need, and what I’m seeing. I’m building something so I need to see far, and not hang around people who complain all the time about the president and the economy and the weather. I’m hoping to build healthy relationships so I can’t be consuming negative news every time on social media, and I cannot afford to be listening to people who think that all relationships are shit. I am hoping to adopt a healthier lifestyle of clean eating and regular movement so I can’t be passing close to Artcaffe often because I don’t want to buy salted caramel cake frequently. (I had the yummiest Java caramel cake though – sweet treats once in a while harmed no one, lol!). There are soooo many examples I could give, but I know you get the idea.

Another perspective is that God told Abram to look ‘north, south, east, and west’, not to ‘just look around’ to emphasize that it’s not about the current situation, cos Abram could have easily just focused on the fact that Lot had taken the fertile section. Abram could have complained, and perhaps God knew that he would, so he asked him to look! It’s not about the unpleasant situations we find ourselves in, but what we can see while there – our only limitation is sight. How far can you see? How much can you see? We rarely get what we cannot see, so, like Christina Shusho, I’m asking God to ‘Nipe macho nione…’ cos as sure as death and taxes, what we see is what we get – you cannot ask for/believe for/work for what you cannot envision.

I went to the golf course to manifest wealth (https://atomic-temporary-151151331.wpcomstaging.com/2025/02/15/i-went-golfing/), and sometimes I go to Swarovski to do the same. Sometimes, I do mock presentations in my house pretending to be the Cabinet Secretary for Environment addressing the nation. I am learning Spanish on Duolingo because I can see that I will visit Peru, Argentina, and Colombia, and other Spanish-speaking countries. I don’t even have the relevant visas yet, but I know it will happen. There are many other aspects of my life where I have desires, and as I remember Abram’s story, I tell myself to start looking. ‘Njoki, God is telling you to stop looking around, to stop focusing on how things are looking right now, but to look north, south, east, and west, and to believe that what you’re seeing is what you’ll get.’ (Now, remove the name ‘Njoki’, insert your name, and read the statement three times or as many times as you need to to believe it). Clarify your vision. I’m sure the shopkeeper, Njuguna, sees farther than his visual impairment, and I choose to be inspired by him.

A vision board could help too – it’s a great reminder of what you saw/see when you look(ed) north, south, east, and west. I need to edit mine.

I’m sending you love, light, and many warm hugs. Get cuddles and cook sour porridge if you can. I know I need that porridge right now.

See you again, very soon.

Yours, with a set of binoculars to see as far as I can, as clearly and with as much detail as possible,

Njoks.

Recently, I was listening to songs on YouTube while doing chores – scrubbing floors and all. Then, somehow, a song I hadn’t heard in years started playing – ‘Wana Wa Israeli’ by Dagoretti Corner SDA Church choir, and I had to stop scrubbing the floors so that I could sit and watch the video, ten times.

Dagoretti Corner Church raised me – it was my church for most of my childhood, and we were active members. I’m talking about the ‘we-were-almost-always-there-by-8-am.-to-lead-the-Sabbath-school-service-with-me-mostly-doing-the-mission-reading-and-superintendent’s-report’ kind of serious, but that’s not why I sat. I sat because that was not just a song – those voices sounded familiar, yet forgotten – that song reminded me of my formative years, outside of school and home.

As expected, watching that video was quite an emotional experience – seeing the faces of people I loved, of people who loved me – Evans, the pianist, who was also my mum’s good friend. He also taught my brother how to play the piano. There was Cherest, the choir director whose wedding was amazing. I was a flower girl. There was Binaisha, whose girlfriend was ‘goals’. All of us were told to emulate her, because she graduated with a First Class Honours. Those days, going to uni was a big deal. Graduating with a First Class Honours was an even bigger deal. I don’t think they got married. There was also Elder Arogo, whose laughter was infectious. He was just nice, and I loved it when he was the elder in charge of announcements.

All the above are men, but this is not about them. This is about women – the women who raised me in sweet, small ways. I was born to my mother, my primary caregiver, who adored me, and raised me to the best of her abilities. She birthed my big head, nursed me, empowered me by speaking life to me, and telling off mean people. She disciplined me lovingly, and asked hair stylists to reduce the blow-drier’s heat level so I could be more comfortable, teaching me to stand up for myself, and to express myself. She taught me to wash my undies, and to wipe going backwards after number 2 to avoid infecting my vagina, and to avoid washing it directly with soap. I reported boys who’d write me love letters to her. She came to school once to confront a teacher for hitting me on the head for noisemaking. She also shushed people who’d try to tell me that I was too loud, or ‘too anything’. I was allowed to just be, and I’m grateful because that nurtured my confidence.

My mother, also, cooked for me, and took me to church, and paid for my camps, and gave me fare to go to the Kawangware CDF Library periodically to read story books. She also bought me books, and clothes, and really, just raised me. I am soooo grateful to God that that’s the first woman I knew, my mother, and that she’s the first woman that knew me, my mother. I’m thinking about her a lot this Women’s Day season.

While most of who I am, and most of what I know are tied to my mother, watching that video reminded me that I am many women. I am all of them – different women have taught and raised me. I saw Mrs. Githaiga who taught me pottery. She’d teach us on Sundays during Pathfinder classes. I also saw Tr. Beatrice Oirere who was soooo stern. She wasn’t a favourite then because she’d punish us for dozing off in church, for making noise, but now? I’m sooo grateful for everything she taught us. There was also Mama Bilha Obonyo who taught us how to make liquid soap from scratch. I also remembered Tr. Zippy Aoko who loved me deeply and made me teach my peers sometimes, and Tr. Lillian Odera, rest her soul, who taught me to crotchet mats and bags. In fact, I once made a pouch for a fair at Arboretum and we emerged second, yay!

I saw Mama Marren Omune, whose house was close to our church. She’d invite us for lunch, and her cooking was A1!!! She’d make some peanut soup and potatoes and other good stuff, and there was always fresh juice in her house. She had smart, generous kids – Herbert, Bilha, Lavender, Marren, and Leilah, and Marren was always giving me clothes. At the time, she was a student at KU, and her style was impeccable, and because she liked me, she was constantly giving me shoes. There was Mama Marion, my mother’s good friend, whose family and ours were close – we’d coordinate our Sabbath lunches, such that my mum cooks chapati, and Mama Marion brings stew and steamed cabbage. Then, periodically, we’d go to Pathways Hotel along Ngong Road after church for nyama choma, then do sleepovers. Marion, who was in Moi Girls’ at the time, would advise me, give me books to read… She continues to inspire me – now doing her PhD in Bioinformatics in Switzerland, hello??? The list is truly endless.

We are almost constantly surrounded, and influenced by women. It starts at home, with our mothers and sisters, then aunts and grandmas, and as we grow, the circle widens to include churchmates, our parents’ friends, our teachers, our mentors… You probably believe in yourself now because your teacher believed in you, and encouraged you. You’re probably learning a lot at work now, because a woman is mentoring you. You probably cook rice a certain way, because your aunt taught you how to. You know a thing or two about how to treat your hair, because a girlfriend introduced you to some products and accessories.

For a long time, the narrative has been that women are each other’s enemies, but it’s not true. Granted, there are some mean women who try to bring others down, but generally, honestly, women are GREAT. I love women. I love seeing women friendship groups, uplifting each other, doing fun stuff together…

This weekend, I’m honouring myself – the essence of my womanhood – the person I am, the lessons I’ve learnt, the aspirations I have, my desires, my story, my journey. This weekend, I am honouring all the women who have held and loved me, taught and encouraged me – starting with my sweet mother and sister, my aunts and grandma, my teachers and mentors, my friends, those I have now and those I used to have, and even the daughter(s) I’m hoping to have. I am each and every one of them, and so are you. I’m really grateful for the women in my life right now, and even for the ones I’m yet to meet and love.

Which women are influencing and loving you now? Thank and honour them, not just this IWD weekend, but every day. Are you a woman loving and uplifting other women? I honour you.

Happy International Women’s Day.

Thanks for being here, really.

We’ll see each other again very soon. Be well.

Yours, with introspection and gratitude,

Njoks.

P.S. I had an okay day. I made myself a nutritious meal, however much I don’t enjoy cooking. I should visit Mama Marren Omune soon. I love and miss those women very much. We moved from that side of town (Dagoretti) to boring Utawala.

I’m sooo glad you’re here. Bye now, for real.

Wozza, you good person? I hope you had a great day. I did. The cold that was trying to unalive me is clearing, albeit gradually, so yay!

I woke up missing the sun, so a while after having breakfast, good old ginger tea and egg toast, I took my shoal, laptop, stationery, and sunscreen, and went outside. It felt very grounding and peaceful, and my body really needed the warmth.

At the beginning of the year, I had a goal to be reading the Bible daily. I haven’t been doing it daily, but whenever I do, boy!! Do I get revelations? I swear, they knew what they were talking about when they said that the word of God is living – I’ve read a few passages so far that I had read in the past, or had heard in a sermon somewhere, but they seem to have newer, deeper meanings now that I’m older. Everyone needs God, but adults?? We need God times ten because adulting can show us shege, right?

I want to be summarizing my lessons in a blog or two every week. It will help to keep me accountable (I’ll have to read in order to write), and it will help me share my faith, and hopefully we can encourage each other on here – blogging evangelism, innit?

I’ve been wanting to do this for a minute, but the devil whispers, ‘Who do you think you are, you imperfect person? God needs you to be perfect and sinless…’ and although I listen to him sometimes, today, I was like, ‘(insert Nigerian accent) Shut up that your big mouth oga. God gave me a big mouth and I will use it to tell others what I know/learn/think. Plus, the last time we listened to you, we were thrown out of the garden of Eden and now we toil the earth to eat and suffer during childbirth.’ So yes, I’ll use my big mouth on my blog.

Here’s how I’ll do it. I’ll be reading a few chapters of a book, then afterwards write a one-pager of lessons and interesting facts. Interestingly, I’ve really been loving the book of Numbers. It has many gems, and random funny* stuff. If you’re interested, you could read a few chapters as you wait for my first post, so you can compare notes, and hopefully contribute to the conversation.

Imagine, I didn’t even know that the book is called Numbers because it starts with God asking Moses to COUNT the NUMBER of Israelites fit to fight – basically a census of men aged 20+ eligible for military service. They were 603,550 men. God and Moses had a fun, interesting relationship. The book of Numbers is fire, I promise.

While it’s true that I could write without caring about who’s interested, I also know that it’d be more encouraging to know that there are people interested in reading such blogs, and reading the Bible with me, and no, I will neither start a church nor ask you for offerings, haha. I just want to allow God to use me to do His work, my sin, imposter syndrome and shit notwithstanding.

Read the book of Numbers. You can skip the parts only containing names of the guys from the tribes of Israel, lol, unless you’re trying to find a name for your offspring(s). I’m excited about this series, and I hope you are too.

I’m also interested in something I got inspiration for while in a matatu. I sat next to a woman with burn scars on her two hands, and I wanted to ask questions, to hear her story. I didn’t broach the subject, but I’d love to do it here. I love listening to stories, so I’d love to make writing even more fun for myself by interviewing two to three people per month (virtually), regarding a particular topic, and writing their stories. Plus, I remembered that Jackson Biko also runs something similar, and I think it’s really cool, so I want to do it, too.

This March, the focus will be on burns. Do you have scars? Do you have a story? I’d love to listen to you and write about it, to honour your scars. Reach out to me via this email address: rustyfingers33@gmail.com. Do you know someone with burn scars? Send them this article. I don’t want to be writing about myself and my experiences all the time.

I’m excited about everything I’ll get to do with this blog this year, and I thank you for being here. I looooveee writing, to bits, and your readership and sharing are gratifying.

See you again, very soon.

Be well.

Yours,

Njoks.

P.S. I went to Tigoni Tea Farms today and did about 5k steps. I’m really proud of myself. Visit the farms soooon if you can, plus, some factories have shops – rich, affordable tea! Yummmm! I’m drinking purple tea right now. It tastes like nothingness, but they say that it’s loaded with more antioxidants so I guess a win is a win.

Hello, reader! I hope you’ve been well, and that you’ve eaten rabbit meat this week.

Have you ever been disappointed by someone, someone you thought would be helpful in enabling you to achieve something specific? Yes? Me too.

In fact, it happened recently. The other day, I shared that I had received some kind of help from an unexpected place – from my former boss. It was unexpected cos I resigned, gave them a short notice to train my replacement, such that I had to pay them (most companies’ policies dictate that if they fire you suddenly, they give you a severance package, and if you resign suddenly, you pay them.). I thought they hated/disliked me, but they were actually super helpful. I’ll tell you more about that sometime soon.

Today, we’re talking about one of my mentors, who has always been helpful since we met a couple of years ago. We had a conversation sometime last year, where I told her about my EcoNjia plans (www.econjia.com) and everything I was hoping to do, and she was like, ‘Well, I think you should get your PhD first. That’s what you need to do immediately after completing your MSc…’ I didn’t feel like that, and I expressed it politely. My brain needed rest, at least, from school. Man, I had been in school since 2002! I just told her that although I wasn’t ready for a PhD then, it’s something I’d be open to in future – very near, or very far future – just not then, to which she responded, ‘Oh, okay…’

My mentor is a phenomenal person and professional, probably earning more than the president, with a great family, impeccable taste, and everything nice. They’re advanced in age and did their PhD after their MSc, and it worked great for them. It made sense that she advised me to do the same. I just couldn’t. So, there was something they promised to process for me after seeing that I was firm on my decision, which would have been GREAT for my work, but after following up twice, hearing their (changed) tone and all, I decided to let it go.

I know we’re told to be resilient and persistent, but more often than not, we know what’s up. This is someone who’d move fast if they wanted to – they know the right places, the right people… It sounds like they’re saying to me, ‘I could’ve helped you if you listened to me and applied for PhD opportunities last year…’ which does not make my mentor a bad person – they’re just not the right person, at this time.

You probably have an uncle who is a CEO at a multinational who keeps telling you, ‘Send me your CV. I’ll see what to do.’ Or, you have a sibling who’s making bank yet they can’t send you a dollar to buy mangoes as you figure things out. Perhaps there’s an aunty whose connections would help your business, but they’re not doing what YOU THINK they should be doing to help you.

I hate to break it to you, but here’s the thing, they do not owe you anything, really (well, unless they do). At this stage, anything anyone does is because they want to do it, because God is using them for a season. The fact that they once helped you in 2019 does not mean that they should do it in 2025.

As I’m cruising through adulthood, I’m learning an important lesson, that letting go of expectations is not only great – it’s necessary. Do what you need to do, ask for help from people you think could be helpful, but don’t think it is mandatory that they do, simply because they’re family, or because they helped you in the past.

There is another side of letting go of expectations. It’s not just about saving yourself from disappointment – it makes you super grateful to those who come through for you, keeping in mind that they didn’t have to help you, but they did. It also surprises you when you receive help from unexpected places – a former boss, an ex from 10 years ago, or even, your local area chief. Do not limit God and the abundance of the universe by thinking you can only be helped by the 3 people you have in your head.

Do you resent anyone for disappointing you? Get over it. Let it go.

Is there someone you need to thank for helping you unexpectedly? Do it. Appreciate them.

Do you need to help people you wouldn’t naturally be inclined to help, say, a stranger texting you on LinkedIn asking for advice? Absolutely. It’s not always about you receiving assistance.

Do you need to share this post and subscribe? Yes, I think so. Do it. Don’t disappoint me, haha.

Enjoy the rest of your week, and may you receive, and give, help unexpectedly. Just be careful not to help old, stranded people in Nairobi because that’s how you might lose all your belongings. (Read the ‘Ogopa Nairobi post here if you didn’t: https://atomic-temporary-151151331.wpcomstaging.com/2025/01/16/the-o-in-nairobi-stands-for-ogopa/)

Be well.

Yours, with care,

Njoks.