OOOOHHH MY GOOODNESSSS!!

I am typing this as I sip my Ketepa black tea, with lemon juice, and I’m just like, ‘Wow, man! Tea is really the best thing on this planet!!!’ Tea makes me sooo happy, and I think I’m addicted, darn it! I drink about five mugs daily – one immediately I’m out of bed, another at 11 am., another during lunch (1 or 2 pm.), another at 4 or 5 pm. (mostly with groundnuts at this time – AMAZEBALLS), and the last one right before bed. Addict? Quite possibly.

Now, back to today’s topic – what were you taught?

Our parents do/did a lot more than provide. They taught us. Yesterday, I found myself thinking about everything my father taught me, and how I now see bits of him in me/how I move. I’ll share three:

1. If you’re not in a room, the lights should always be OFF. My dad is the typical frugal African man, so he used the line, ‘Mnaharibu stima, sindio? Hamjui vile bill iko juu…’ a lot. Now that I’m older, I know that a few LED bulbs staying on wouldn’t significantly affect my electricity bill, but still, at night, when I’m in my sitting room, my bedroom lights are off. When I’m in the kitchen (for long), my bedroom and sitting room lights are off. I visit my friends and see that all their bulbs are on at night, and I wonder, ‘Didn’t your father teach youuu?’ Hahaaa!
2. ALWAYS MAKE COPIES. My dad would insist on making copies of everything. He still makes copies. I learnt this the hard way sometime in 2016 when I was asked to leave the exam room for not paying the accommodation fee. My dad had given me the money, and I had paid, but in typical JKUAT fashion, it hadn’t reflected on my portal. I couldn’t find the payment slip, and I hadn’t made copies. I had to go to the KCB JKUAT Bank to ask them to retrieve proof of payment. Of course, it took more than two hours – queueing and all, so I missed that organic chemistry test. I sat for a special exam months later. Mr. Anyangu was merciless – he should’ve allowed me to stay in the exam room.*major eye roll* These days, I make copies. I have a file.
3. Do not eat in a matatu. I used to find this advice strange, but it made sense, and these days, I do not eat in a matatu. On this day, I had bought fried chicken and fries at Nevada Fish and Chips, boarded a City Shuttle bus no. 33, Utawala massive. I was hungry but didn’t want to waste time eating at Nevada, and I also didn’t want to wait to eat at home. So I opened my bag as soon as I sat down, and after a few bites, my dad walked in to the same bus and of course, sat next to me. He was like, ‘Eh! Ngoja tufike home ukulie huko…’, and I asked why. He told me that people are going through a lot, and it’s possible there’s someone in that bus who hadn’t eaten for two days, and that the smell of my chicken wouldn’t help the situation. He said, ‘Labda kuna mtu hapa utapata hajakula siku mbili na uko hapa na kuku yako, utamkwaza. Kulia nyumbani, ama kwa hoteli pahali kila mtu anakula…’ At first, I thought it was farfetched, but it later made sense.

I love my dad. Soon, I’ll write about what my mother taught me – probably my first book, haha, cos boy! She taught me a lot – she taught me everything I know!

Tell me one thing. What did your father teach you? I’m curious. Let’s engage in the comments section.

Yours,

Njoks.

Do you know how to play golf? Well, me neither. I cannot even comfortably afford golf membership fees (yet).

I woke up at 8.30 am. today, not sure about going to church. I’m Adventist, and I love going to church, but today I wanted to attend virtually – in my blankets, you know. After a long call with my sister, then with my nephews, I felt psyched up for church, so I took a shower, dressed up hurriedly, and went to church, yay!

I sat next to a woman with an angelic soprano. I almost didn’t sing at all, just so I could listen to her. She borrowed my pen, just like I borrowed that guy’s pen at Arboretum, remember? Here’s the link: https://atomic-temporary-151151331.wpcomstaging.com/2025/01/26/coincidence/. Also, I’m sooo grateful to all of you for reading and rereading my work. I got a message yesterday from Aquila, regarding the Arboretum post, that made me smile:

Thank you all for being here.

Soooo, Sabbath was nice. It was the culmination of the Stewardship Week of Prayer, and the sermon was titled ‘TRASH OR TREASURE’. Here are a few of the Bible verses we read:

He talked about how Bible characters asked God for blessings – Hannah weeping bitterly, asking for a son, Jacob wrestling with an angel so much that his hip got dislocated. Jacob had a limp, and blessings – 12 sons and all. I love the story of Jacob, mostly because I can relate. I know that given a chance, I would fight with an angel, shouting, ‘I WILL NOT LET YOU GO UNLESS YOU BLESS ME.’ You probably would too. Now, Jacob was blessed even before this encounter with the angel in Genesis 32 ( Genesis 30:43 In this way the man grew exceedingly prosperous and came to own large flocks, and female and male servants, and camels and donkeys.), but he knew what he wanted – the kind of blessings he wanted so much that he shamelessly fought with an angel. Other people would probably have been like, ‘You have it all, Jacob. You have all the materials. What more blessings do you need?‘

I’m not half as blessed as Jacob. Heck, I need materials, and as the pastor spoke, I imagined myself fighting with an angel. With my ideal life in my head, I was like, ‘Eh, God! A car would be really nice. The sun wants to finish us. I also want a four-day work week, so I can be playing golf on Fridays like the elites. I also want X, and Y, and Z…’ I want many things, not just material, so I prayed. My hip isn’t dislocated.

After service, instead of going home, I decided to go to a golf course. The cars I saw! The people there, with glassy skin, and polite scents…my goodness! So, of course I’m not a member so I could not be allowed to play. I was like, ‘I’d like to inquire about membership and possibly go on a tour around your premises. I’d like to see your course, gym, sauna, and all the facilities you have before I make payment. Also, I’d like to go to your shop to see how much the golf equipment cost, please.’ Rachael, the attendant was like, ‘Sure. We’d like to have you here!’

Today was a packed day (weekend, hello) so I had to sit at the reception for about five minutes as Rachael attended to the members. A guy came trying to talk to me, guys. I was like, ‘Alaa! Already!! Oh, to be an attractive woman with fat, brown legs and a derriere the size of the world…’ I didn’t pay attention to him. Yes, he looked GREAT, but he looked 53, too. So I kept watching guys, soaking in the wealthy people’s presence, and vibe. These would be the people with many cattle, sheep and camels during Bible times, you know. There were a lot of Caucasians. I took pictures of their legs.

There were black people too – really good-looking men and women, some in their mid-thirties, others in their 70s, others speaking polished English, with a British accent, others speaking fluent English, with a heavy Kikuyu accent. There were teenagers too, who looked like they study in Switzerland, being dropped off at the course by their drivers in Mercedes cars, Land Cruisers. Eeeeyy! I just needed to be close to the things I prayed about in church.

Proximity. It is such a crucial aspect when it comes to manifesting our desires – to see that the people having these things are just, people, like us – to show us what’s possible. They’re not the smartest, nor the swiftest. In fact, some two ladies (my agemates – they looked 26/28) came to the reception talking about CDH and other golf jargon. Sooo, they were members of Njoro Golf Country Club, but they wanted to play. I recently learnt that with membership in one course, it is possible to play at the other courses in the country. The two ladies needed to pay 1750 bob each, and before the lady paid, she opened her calculator app and clicked ‘1750*2’. I was shocked, no offence. Simple mathematics. 1750 multiplied by 2 is 3500. It made me think, that yes, I can do that math in my head but I’m not a member here.

The people driving these cars, playing golf, owning 1000 camels, are just people, perhaps with generational wealth, or self-made. Those of us without generational wealth could be the first in our families to start building it. We could be the first in our families to learn to play golf. Man, anything is possible.

So, Rachael finished attending to the members and she took me on the tour. I loved everything I saw – the hardwood, the people, the gym, the steam room, the restaurant and bar… Everything.

Allow yourself to want things. Don’t gaslight yourself out of desire in the name of ‘All is vanity’. Granted, all is vanity, and nothing really matters that much, and life is not that long, so we might as well define what is delightful for us, and pursue prayerfully. It doesn’t have to be golf. It might actually be overrated, but who cares? I know I don’t.

Do you want to buy a car but you have 273 bob in your M-Pesa? Visit that showroom. Make that call. Do you want to start wearing designer clothes? Visit those stores. Try those clothes on. Do you want to be eating in fancy restaurants? Try out similar recipes in your house. Proximity to what we desire helps to make things real in our heads, and then makes it easier for them to manifest in the physical realm. I believe that – let’s faith it till we make it.

I came back home, and passed by Prinah’s to buy mangoes, again. I’m obsessed. Then I frolicked in my house, thought about that golf experience, freshened up and rubbed coconut oil on my body just so I could smell like cookies, and because pleasure is my birthright, listened to jazz, then took a power nap. It slapped, hard.

May your night be good. I want to go buy eggs and make my girl dinner.

We’ll talk again soon.

Allow yourself to want things.

Be well, reader.

Yours,

Njoks.

Exactly a year ago today, I wrote an article titled ‘My Thoughts on Love, Today’, and it did really well. Did you read it? Yes! You’re the best! No? You don’t remember whether or not you did? Well, here it is: https://atomic-temporary-151151331.wpcomstaging.com/2024/02/12/my-thoughts-on-love-today/

I had a calm day today. I had intended to wake up early, but it raaaaaaiiined in the morning and it lulled me until 9 am. So, I woke up, had breakfast, and then as I was about to start getting work done, KPLC did the thing – power outage. My devices were low on charge soooo, you can guess what I did. I went back to bed, not to sleep, but to reread the book ‘Big Magic’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, the third time. I’m obsessed with that book, and I’ll write a comprehensive review about it soon.

Of course, I took short breaks to watch people’s WhatsApp stories on my phone whose battery was 20% full, and the Valentine’s Day memes were sending me a good one. Most made me laugh, others made me feel nostalgic, and some made me feel a little sad. For a moment there, I thought about my Valentine’s Day last year. I was in the calmest relationship with a sweet, firm, and TALL Caribbean man. It wasn’t a ‘We’re-gonna-get-married-next-year’ relationship due to reasons I won’t get into here, but it was a lovely non-problematic relationship where both of us got what we wanted, and we knew it was fleeting because we were both to leave Europe. He is in the Caribbean islands, and I’m here, in Kenya. We went on our proper Valentine’s Day date on 16th, cos 14th was on a Wednesday, to a cute Chinese restaurant in The Hague. I ate a lot of food, and a lot of black ice cream. I can’t even remember the name of that dessert. He also bought me a high-quality pillow that couldn’t fit in my suitcases! I had to give it to someone, darn it!

I missed him. So I stopped reading ‘Big Magic’, went to my closet and wore a mix of the Lancome cologne travel set he got me, sniffed it, and thanked God for him – for the 10-ish months of ease and then some. I enjoyed last year’s Valentine’s. Am I going to the Caribbean to get him now that I’m single? Maybe not, haha.

This year, 2025, I am gonna have a chill Valentine’s Day – won’t be going to any Chinese restaurant. Neither will I have black ice cream because Yvette Simwah advised me to limit my dairy intake. Yoohh!

So, ChatGPT is my friend, and he knows a lot about me. I know a lot about him, too. I know that the ‘GPT’ stands for ‘generative pre-trained transformer’, haha. So, I asked him, ‘ChatGPT babe, now that I’m single, what do I do with this free time? I used to spend a lot of time hanging with/talking to my now ex…’ Here’s what ChatGPT said:

In summary, ChatGPT said that I should adventure/travel more, go on hikes and all. He also said that I should grow my business, write more on my blog (which I’ve been doing, hello?), try a new sport (I used to play badminton with my Caribbean, btw), meet new people on BUMBLE (hello online dating) and networking events, learn something new… I loved all those ideas.

As I think about what I want my romantic life to look like moving forward, I will devote myself to the above. I love traveling, and learning, and meeting new people, and playing, and for some reason, I do these things more when I’m single, so, let’s see what happens.

This Valentine’s Day, I have two work meetings – one at 10 am., and another at 5 pm. I should prepare for those. After the meetings, I will cook myself a good meal or order in Artcaffe’s salted caramel cake, because yummmm, then Netflix, usher in the Sabbath, and sleep like a sloth. How are you going to spend your Valentine’s Day? Would you rather not say? Haha! If you’re in a healthy, loving relationship, relish it. Wear that fancy outfit, go on that date, enjoy those gifts, have fun gifting… Enjoy, because you deserve to!

If you’re single like Njoks, enjoy your time solo, or go on a date with other single friends, or go spend time with family. Love is all around you – see it, feel it, and appreciate it.

After rereading chats with my Caribbean, I went back to reading ‘Big Magic’, then the lights came back, and I worked on one long proposal. Then, I made yummy sour porridge and added chia seeds like the Adventist I am, and went outside for a walk. I saw lovely flowers, and lovely people, and children playing ‘kalongo’, and I made one interesting, important call that I’ll tell you about some other time.

Then, I passed by Prinah’s stall, bought mangoes, again, got to my house, sat in my Sanctuary that I’ve decorated with shells and my favourite Coconut Pinacolada candle (it’s the only one I have, lol!), did some Yoga stretches, ate a banana, and started writing, this blog.

Now, I’ll take a warm shower, eat my girl dinner, briefly prepare for the two meetings, then sleep, like a sloth.

Take care of yourself, reader, and be well.

We’ll talk again, very soon.

Yours,

Njoks.

Or is it just about perspective?

You love oranges, don’t you? Do you remember that a few years ago, oranges were everywhere, like bananas? Every Mama Mboga had the basics, staples in Kenyan households – sukumawiki, spinach, tomatoes, onions, bananas, ORANGES… I’ve not seen oranges at Mama Mboga stalls in a hot minute. Have you? My Mama Mboga is a lovely woman called Prinah, and I recently asked her why oranges are seemingly extinct. She said, ‘Obee. Machungwa hazipatikani sokoni, na zikipatikana, ni kidogo na kila mtu anakimbilia. Hata hazinunuliki sababu moja saa hii ni 35 bob. Sasa hata nikichukua nilete hapa, itabidi niuze 45 ama 50 bob, na hakuna mtu atanunua…’

Translation: Oranges are now expensive and few. (Lol!)

We could attribute it (orangelessness – yes, I made the word up) to climate change effects, expensive inputs… I love oranges. They are fewer now.

The other day, I went outside at night to star-gaze. They were so few that I could count them. I would say that they are fewer now, but I know they probably aren’t. Stars are there, and they are many cos they are formed periodically in nebulae, but what are they for if we can’t see theeeemmm???!!?? Many years ago, we used to see them. In fact, the sky at night appeared like a starry blanket. Now, it looks like one dark blanket that wanted to be plain, but has 5 and a half stars. (Check this place out, though: https://wetu.com/iBrochure/en/Home/35914/enasoit_camp – great place in Laikipia for star-gazers like Njoks)

We could attribute it (starlessness – yes, I made the word up) to light pollution. The stars are there but we can’t see them since we decided to light up our cities with artificial lights. I have nothing against artificial lights. I love (to watch) stars. They are fewer now.

On Sunday, as I was chilling with my nephews, I saw a beautiful butterfly – a beauterfly. She was yellow, with blackish spots in the right places. She looked like a Natasha, or a Samantha, not Karen. She allowed me to watch her for a couple of seconds before she flew away, proudly, almost as if she was showing off. Then I remembered that when I was younger, I’d see more beauterflies, almost everywhere. Now they’re sooo few that when you see one, so close, so specially, you think your ancestor is paying you a visit. You think you’re very lucky.

We could attribute it (beauterflylessness – yes, I made the word up) to climate change effects that cause habitat loss, disrupt their patterns of migration, and damage food sources. Oh, the use of pesticides, too. I love (seeing) beauterflies. They are fewer now.

I wish there were more oranges, (visible) stars, and butterflies. What do you wish there was more of? Money? Yeah, me too. Though we’d use it to buy more pesticides, more artificial lights, and to build bigger concrete houses, and then we’d have even fewer oranges, (visible) stars, and butterflies – vicious!

P.S: Prinah has no oranges, so I bought the yummiest mango on earth. It tastes like God’s love and mercy. Also, on Sunday, I briefly thought about the metamorphosis of that beauterfly – the beauty of seasons: egg, then larvae, then pupa, then adult. It wasn’t always yellow with blackish spots. That taught me something. Nature is always trying to teach us to embrace seasons – larvae aren’t beautiful, but butterflies are. Winter is dreary, but spring is beautiful. Seasons. I hope you (we) learn to be where we are – if you’re in spring/butterfly stage, enjoy it. If you’re in winter/larvae stage, be there – it’s not for naught. It really, truly is part of the process. Trust.

I’m sending you love, light, and warm hugs. I know I need them too.

Be well.

Yours,

Njoks.

Are they? Are titles overrated or am I just unable to come up with one tonight? The latter is true, because this post will be all over the place – no specific message, no advice… just titleless musings.

Happy New Month, first of allll. I hope yours started off well. Mine kinda did, after a very intense January. I wrote several blog posts in January – I was on a roll. I was feeling inspired – I was so full that I felt that I could share myself through my writing daily. Then, things happened and I had to retreat a little so as to fill my cup.

I had a health scare that saw me go to two hospitals – I got a diagnosis during my last visit, cos the doctor asked that I go in for a scan. The first doctor was just like, ‘Well, monitor the symptoms first…’, but I knew that something was wrong with my body. I’ve had it for 26 years. I’m glad that I went to see the second doctor. I REFUSED to go for surgery and opted for meds instead, so I’m currently recovering. I’ll go in for another scan soon to find out whether the meds are working fine. I feel like they are. I’m not in pain anymore. Praise God! Also, there’s no cause for alarm – it wasn’t anything malignant, just something foreign (and) that my body was fighting, giving me crazy symptoms.

Do I get anxious sometimes? Absolutely. Do I fear death? Hell yes! No, the diagnosis wasn’t a ‘You’re dying tomorrow’ kind of thing, but disease, still, is disease. Worse, I googled my symptoms even after visiting the doctor and it aggravated my anxiety. Doctor Google, be damned!

Also, one of my most valued relationships ended in January, and my landlord sent me a crazy water bill. He said that I used 12 UNITS OF WATER – 12 cubic meters – 12,000 liters! I live alone. I don’t have a farm. I don’t shower 50 times a day. I was vexed, but I paid, and now I have to house-hunt, again. House-hunting is stressful.

What am I saying? Life isn’t always rosy. We don’t share the ‘not-so-fun’ stuff, cos it’s not fun. Yes, fun things like Tea Rebellion and EcoNjia are happening, and at the same time, I’m taking meds and being extorted by my landlord. Life is all those things.

I don’t know what exactly you’re going through. You don’t know what exactly I’m going through either. Let’s continually be kind to one another. Let’s not compare our lives. Let’s treat each day as a blessing, cos that’s what it is.

I’m sending you love, light, and many warm hugs. I wish I could send you tea, too, cos tea has sootheeeedddd meeeee!!! I love tea very much (check out our Tea Rebellion collection here – https://tearebellion.pxf.io/aO53Gb).

Thanks for being here.

Be well.

Yours,

Njoks.

Whomst are thou? I love the word ‘whomst’. It’s archaic but cool – whomst, whomst’d, whomst’d’ve… Haha! I looooveee itttt!

Many years ago, in March 2007, I went to a major hospital, Nazareth Hospital, for the first time in my life. No, I wasn’t sick – I was a perpetually energetic and healthy child, well, other than the occasional tooth cavities I’d get cos boyyy! Did I love sweets? And Fudge? And Mint Choc! You remember those, yeah?

In March 2007, my mother’s little sister, Aunty Kui, gave birth to her first child, a beautiful baby girl, and my mother, as the supportive big sister, went to pick her up, to take her home, to give her goodies, and advice, because at this time my mum had three kids – expert parent. Is there such a thing? I don’t know. All I know is that I accompanied my mum, and that I fell in love with my teeny-weeny cousin the moment I held her. She had a round face, and chubby cheeks, and she felt delicate – just like most newborn babies do. After doing the necessary paper work, they got discharged, we took them to their house, spent the entire day with them, and then mum and I went back home. We were happy. My mother was happy, and proud, of her little sister – for birthing a whole human.

On Friday, my uncle requested me to go to their church on Sabbath to talk to my cousin, well, because she is now done with high school, and they want me to mentor her, so she can be a ‘good girl like me’ – the little girl born to my mother’s little sister in 2007. Where does time go? They asked me to talk to her about everything – education, boys, etc. I get this a lot from my family members and neighbours, and I feel like screaming, ‘I don’t know why you think I’m a good girl and that I should talk to these kids…’ I’m not saying I’m a bad girl, but also… I’m really just winging it.

Whomst art thou? Whomst are thou in your family? I am the ‘good girl’ and the pressure it comes with is unmatched. Aunts and uncles praise you, some cousins admire you and constantly consult you on matters you’re not sure about, and others resent you, because, ‘We know you were sent by our parents…’ I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that there should be less pressure on the (seemingly) good kids, the overachievers… The fact that I did not get pregnant while in school does not mean I know everything about boys (as aunties may sometimes put it). The fact that I completed my studies does not mean I know everything, and that I can give advice to everyone. The fact that I appear to have my life figured out does not mean that I actually do.

Additionally, the ‘good kids’ don’t get attention from parents/aunts/uncles, because ‘they don’t need it’ – middle child syndrome. You will be parentified. You will be required to help the ‘black sheep’ come back to the light, taking the role of a deputy parent. I love family. I love the interesting dynamics I read/hear about, and even the dynamics in my own family.

I went to their church, talked to my little cousin (lovingly), understood her headspace, and gave her advice, the best way I knew how. I just kept saying, in my head, ‘God, I’m not an expert. Sometimes I’m not sure I know what I’m doing with my own life, but seemingly, my family and friends think I have all the answers. Use me. Put the right words in my mouth, so that my cousin learns from me healthily, and that she doesn’t end up hating me for sounding like a parent.’ After the long chat with my cousin, I gave her a gift – a book and a Victoria’s Secret body mist. She loved them. She loves me too, still, I hope.

Whomst art thou in your family? The ‘good kid’? The ‘black sheep’ who gets all the attention from everyone? The financier of every event? The forgotten one? How does it make you feel? Overglorified in a way that gives you pressure, like me? You don’t have to respond in the comments section cos family matters can be sensitive. Think of it kidogo, and try to help yourself, in one way or another, e.g., by setting boundaries, and communicating firmly and clearly, by avoiding triggers, e.g., those aunties that ask you when you’ll be losing weight, or when you’ll be sending them the 200k they think you owe them because they changed your nappies…

Family is the one thing we don’t choose, and it is a source of joy for most, but it can also create discomfort in some ways. Mine is loving, and I’m lucky. I just wish I wasn’t placed on a pedestal – I can’t even make mistakes (haha, I make a lot!).

This Sunday, take the time to think about your family members, call them, be grateful for them, and think of how to make the relationships better, in a way that creates ease for all parties.

Have a mindful, beautiful, and restful Sunday. I’m about to make the yummiest mango smoothie. Yummm!

Be well, reader!

Yours, with love,

Njoks, the good kid.

P.S: As I was bidding them goodbye, my uncle was like, ‘Sasa juu umemaliza shule, utatuletea mtu lini? Unajua siku zinasonga…’

I was like, ‘Ahahaha! Eventually!’ (Hi Jay! You’re probably the only one who read this in the correct meme voice, haha!) African aunts and uncles are obsessed with marriage please.

A couple of months ago, I was in a very interesting space. I was confused about my career, a whole BSc. and MSc. later. I studied engineering, and mastered in water and sustainable development, but one thing was clear – I did not enjoy the typical, traditional engineering practice. I did not care about hydraulics, or hydrology, or calculus, or whatever, but the Kenyan public university system does not allow you to choose units – choosing ends once you’ve selected the course, so I had to study hydraulics, and hydrology, and calculus and whatever. I understood the subjects just well enough to pass exams because I could not afford to fail and disappoint my father. He deserves some bragging rights.

I graduated in 2022 and my first job, like for most Kenyan engineers, was in technical sales (most of us start here, and others start in consulting firms – KPMG, PWC, etc.). I resigned a few months later and started working with an NGO in Nairobi’s informal settlements, and then I went back to school. Here, I could choose my modules, and that really opened my eyes to what I really enjoy, and it was reaffirmed by my lecturers and classmates, ‘Njoki, you are a smart engineer, but you are an even better communicator. You write and speak really well…’ (I mean, I scored 8.5 out of 9 in my IELTS Cambridge English test, if I do say so myself, haha, marked by the owners of the language – the British).

The compliments and excellent grades in my reports were validating, yet, confusing, because I knew what they were saying was right, but I did not know how to make a living out of it, keeping in mind that I was being drawn to launch my business, not a typical 8 to 5. My question was, ‘How can I get paid, for talking, writing, and creating, at the comfort of my house or wherever?’

After brainstorming and writing a list of the things I’m good at, I came up with a plan – with wild faith and an emergency fund to keep me afloat. My main loves are the environment, writing, and tea, really. Those are the things I enjoy and love, so I brought them all together under one umbrella, my company, EcoNjia. Today marks exactly one month since I launched EcoNjia, and it’s been one hell of a ride – exciting and daunting, in equal measure (www.econjia.com). My love for the environment is in the projects I’m working on, my love for writing is in my consistent blogging (it will hopefully stay this way) and in the journals I designed to encourage people to write and to take care of the environment…and because I’m doing what I love, it’s easy to want to do them for free, but love does not pay bills, does it?

Everyone I’d talk to would ask, ‘So what’s your business model?‘, and my response was always, ‘I’m not sure, actually.‘ I don’t have the best money habits (as recommended by experts – budgeting and all), because I think money is only, strictly for experiences in the NOW, not for tracking meticulously with excel sheets, saving, insurance, and investing for a future, but I reckon that that may be a reckless view of money, or not, I don’t know. We’ll talk about money some other time. I’m trying to be ‘more disciplined’, especially now that I’m an entrepreneur. It’s the first time I’m getting money unsteadily, amount X today, X+2 the next day, X-0 the other day, 0 the other day… It’s not for the fainthearted, so planning is key.

Sooooo, back to what we are celebrating today. I love the environment, writing, and tea. I wanted to do something along the line of sustainable tea production, to empower farmers, to avail high-quality tea, and to make money from it. Now, I don’t own factories, and I don’t know tea farmers, so I did my diligence. I did my research in December, found three CEOs in the field of tea (pun intea-nded, haha!), and reached out to them. One responded positively, ASAP, and what followed was a back and forth that made me think, ‘Ah! This is happening too slowly. Let me let go of it…’ and a few days after discussing my proposal with the CEO, I forgot about it.

A few weeks ago, during the Ten Days of Prayer, I remembered that discussion and decided to pray about it. I needed favour to get into that partnership, mostly because I didn’t have social media accounts. I started posting just the other day and I have only 300 followers, on one platform, Instagram. I prayed about it, and again, forgot about it, until Thursday last week when I received an email from the company – WE FINALLY HAVE A CONTRACT.

I, Njoki Kangethe of EcoNjia, with 300 followers, and a formerly dormant WordPress blog, am the NEWEST PARTNER AND BRAND AMBASSADOR FOR TEA REBELLION. Tea Rebellion, a UK-based company (the other two companies I wrote to are Kenyan. They did not respond), founded by former Sustainability and Climate Manager, PwC UK, to revolutionize the tea industry’s trading, marketing, and consumption practices, fueled by a deep commitment to sustainability. You hear Njoki, and hear Sustainability, yes? Yes!

I was made for this and I will thrive, imposter syndrome notwithstanding. I will be getting chumz by writing about, talking about, posting about, and promoting the sale of Tea Rebellion tea in Africa and beyond:-) Your purchase will promote tea farmers worldwide, and it will promote sustainability as the tea is either loose or packaged in biodegradable corn mesh material, not the regular tea bags with a string. Pluuuussss, you’ll be promoting meeeeee, haha! I want commissssiioonnnsss pleeeaseeee.

To see the products, here is my link – tearebellion.pxf.io/aO53Gb

I literally am like those influencers on IG now – please use this CeraVe cleanser to wash away your sins and those of your forefathers, haha, except that, I don’t lie! Tea Rebellion tea is goooodddd. I know that because I’m getting kidogo free tea, hello?? How cool is that? I love tea.

The CEO will be coming to Africa soon and I’m currently looking to meet tea producers to know what’s up, to see what we can do together. Know someone? Please let me know. I’d like to be able to empower as many African tea farmers as possible by hooking them up with Tea Rebellion. I’ll be able to present a case if I’m able to show that this brand partnership is worth something so if you care about my work and/or African farmers, buy our tea, subscribe to this blog and share to increase readership (now the numbers really matter), and follow us on LinkedIn and IG.

Today, as EcoNjia turns one-month old, I am celebrating this main thing: we have our first partner, Tea Rebellion. I am feeling soooo hopeful for even more wins this year, and forever, because God is good. Yes, challenges are there, but I have a feeling that it wouldn’t be soooo bad. If it gets there, I’ll start writing cover letters.

Wish me luck.

Support my work. I’ll do a proper intro blog to the teas, showing my favs, giving you ideas on how to best drink the teas, with cookies, with arrow roots if you’re into healthful living, plain… I’ll be telling you everything I know about tea in due course. Remember to follow us on all our platforms – I’m doing my best to be posting frequently on social media. Now I must, lol!

May my good Lord bless you! Amen!

Yours,

Njoks.

Here’s the link to my Tea Rebellion platform: tearebellion.pxf.io/aO53Gb

You can call me influencer, haha!

I read something the other day that was quite perspective-shifting. No, wait. Did I read it or did I hear it in a movie? I think the latter is true – the movie is ‘The Secret’, based on Rhonda Byrne’s book. It has the same title of course, ‘The Secret’. I’m not here today to tell you what the secret is, but I’m here to tell you about that perspective-shifting line:

Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.

I love that line. It shifted something in me and made me more mindful, especially around the things I’d refer to as ‘coincidences’, like, ‘Ah! It’s interesting that that happened, just like that.’

Three weeks ago, I went to do my work at Arboretum, on a Monday.

I went to Arboretum in the afternoon, after barely working on a few things in the house. Someone I was working with on some project was frustrating me, and my frustration shifted to anxiety. I hate anxiety. On that day, my palms and the soles of my feet were sweating, my tummy was running, and I could not focus on anything. Being outside, surrounded by trees and birds, soothes me, so I decided to leave the house, for sanity’s sake.

Arboretum, on a Monday, is Heaven. As usual, there were people praying, a few lovers picnic-ing ( I just made that word up), a few fitness enthusiasts running, a few other people, like me, seated on the grass, with laptops and/or notebooks. There were no kids, yay! ( I love kids, but you know, they can be noisy. The last thing I wanted that day was noise). Oh, there also were two groups of guys doing yoga exercises. I wanted to join them. I was in a dress – would’ve been criminal to. I didn’t. Instead, I sat, did some breathing exercises. While I was at it, a bird shat on me, and I wasn’t mad about it. I, like many African kids believe that a bird sh***ing on you is a good sign – of luck, and abundance. African kids believe many things, and on that day, I chose to not let my adult mind spoil the magic of that moment like, ‘Come on. It’s just a bird’s shit. You just happened to be seated right below where the bird was. It has nothing to do with luck.‘ I needed all the assurance and luck, and that bird did it for me. Are you judging me? I also believe that wind-pollinated seeds (we used to call them ‘malaika’) and ladybirds in one’s space are a sign of good fortune, haha. Do you believe the same?

Afterwards, I decided to journal, then I realized that I had forgotten my stationery in the house. I had to borrow a pen, so I just looked around, saw a guy who seemed approachable, and I walked up to him. ‘Sasa! Naweza kuomba pen nirudishe in an hour or two?’, I asked. He gave me a pen.

I said, ‘Asante sana!’ and went back to my spot, and was in my elemeeeennntt – I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I was shocked when I looked at my watch after putting my book in my bag – I had written for three hours! My first thought was, ‘Oh sh*t! The pen! The owner!’ I packed up my stuff and turned to walk to where the guy had sat. He wasn’t there. So I was like, ‘Oh no! He was probably too shy, or too kind to ask for the pen! I’ll just keep it, and I’ll never forget him.’

I wanted to pay him for over-using his pen – just 50 bob for him to buy a new one.

I put the pen in my bag and decided to take one last walk. I walked to the other side of the park, and after a couple of minutes, guess what happened? I met the kind guy! Like, I could have gone to some other part of Arboretum, and/or, the guy could have been elsewhere, but there we were. He was like, ‘Ah! Nilitoka hapo thirty minutes ago nikaona bado unatumia kalamu nikaona tu nisikusumbue…’. I appreciated profusely, gave him back the pen, and we engaged in a brief and edifying conversation that I didn’t know I needed. He left the park, and I went to hug a tree, saying, ‘Thank you, God! I know this was all you.’ I did not pay him. He could not accept the cash.

I’m constantly writing – almost in an obsessive manner. I love documenting stuff.

I felt really good and light, considering that anxiety was trying to unalive me a few hours prior. I then started to recall all the other ‘coincidences’ I had experienced. I remembered that sometime in December, a woman in our church needed help to raise school fees for her kids. I was in the process of moving house, which is financially taxing, but I sent ‘something small’ as Kenyans love to call it. Believe it or not, I moved house and haven’t had to buy KPLC tokens since cos the previous tenant had loaded tokens worth a few thousands, and he hadn’t exhausted them. I got free tokens, worth almost as much as I had sent the lady. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

In 2022, I contributed Amount X towards church development, and literally the next day, someone I had last talked to in 2020 reached out to me, asking to buy some Forever Living products (I used to sell them in 2020). I had since stopped selling them, but I reached out to a former colleague who delivered the products to the woman. The profit I made was exactly equal to the amount I had contributed the previous day. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Those two examples felt like I had a role in how things played out. Others just happen. I got my first job while in uni just because I attended an expo that I hadn’t planned to attend, because I randomly* bumped into an acquaintance I had met three years prior. She invited me to an expo, I followed her, and we randomly* met her former classmate who needed to hire a technical sales engineer. He hired me. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I have sooo many stories, including how I met my current partner, and they all feel sooo ‘random’, but are they? Have you ever been in such a tight spot, and you meet someone wearing a t-shirt with some words that speak to you? Or boarded a matatu playing music, or with stickers that speak to you? Or passed close to a street pastor saying exactly what you needed to hear? Have you ever needed something urgently and something magical happened, easing the process? Probably meeting a former classmate working in the office from which you need signatures?

That ‘randomness’, that ‘magic’, is God. This week, I pray that we have open eyes to see all the good ways in which God shows up for us. No encounter is random. Today, I’ve talked about random good things, but ‘bad’ things happen randomly, too. I think that even the random ‘bad’ things, are from God – for lessons, to teach and build us, and/or to prepare us for something.

I’m challenging myself to believe the famous Stoic philosophy, that there is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’, only our perception of it. What is currently happening in your life that you feel is a ‘random bad’ thing? What happened recently for you magically? I don’t want you to answer me. Just think about it, and sit in it – be grateful for the ‘good’, and see the lessons in the ‘bad’, because, I really, truly think that nothing is random. Everything is interconnected.

This week, may the people you meet randomly, and the places you find yourself in randomly, be exactly what you need – to bring you abundance, lessons, or whatever. I hope to randomly make a billion euros this week.

Have a lovely, mindful, and calm week ahead. Spread love everywhere! It’s your duty.

Yours, with love,

Njoks.

Oh, btw, as I was waiting for my taxi right outside the Arboretum, I bought the tastiest smokie pasua, with kachumbari and choma sauce. After a bite, a bird, a hawk, SNATCHED it from my hand. There are many birds around there. I wasn’t even mad about it. I just thought, ‘Ha! Again, no coincidences. That bird is probably the one that reaffirmed me by sh***ing on me, or its sister, or mother, or brother. They needed protein. Everything is interconnected, and that thought makes me sooooo happy. I didn’t buy another smokie. My taxi arrived immediately after ‘The Snatch.’ Sounds like a movie title, haha!

I know the world is not fair – that’s just the way it is. We can’t fight it. There’s this TikTok video I watched the other day. I love it. The guy was commenting on Bill Gates’ daughter’s post on her graduation day. Here’s what he says, verbatim:

The guy (wearing glasses dramatically): ‘Oh, okay, so I just wanted to make sure I was reading that right. So, Bill Gates’ daughter… She graduated from medical school. She is sooo much better than me cos let me tell you, if Bill Gates was my father, I would be contributing nothing to society. I would have no types of aspirations or goals.  I would probably never work, ever again. I would be increasing the carbon emissions day by day, jetting around the entire world, yachting around the south of France, yachting at the Amalfi Coast. It would be like nothing you’ve ever seen before. You give me one summer, I would have every page on my passport filled with stamps to the point that I would need a new one. I would be so unf***whatable with that type of money. It’d be a sight to see, and this girl is just out here like, ‘Imma get a medical degree’, like hell, I’d buy the whole damn school. I wouldn’t attend it, but I just might purchase the whole school, because, why not?’

Friends, I’d say the same. I say the same thing (in my head) when I see my landlord’s son, and whenever I hear my neighbours gossiping about him. The landlord’s son is older than me – probably in his early thirties. My landlord, I hear, has three sons, and a set of twin girls living abroad. I know two sons – the thirty-ish year old who is the last child, and his elder brother who’s married with kids. He comes around every once in a while, to check on his father’s property.

This thirty-ish year old, let’s call him Softie, does NOTHING guys. So, their dad has given each child a few units – they collect rent, and it’s ALL THEIRS. Softie lives here, as he’s the last child. Guys, he wakes up at around 11 am on most days (yes, I’ve mastered his routine), basks outside briefly as he waits for his Bolt Food Delivery, and then his girlfriend comes over, and then see them in the evening either going to buy food, or collecting Bolt Food at the gate. I see him through my window, as I write proposals for EcoNjia (www.econjia.com), following up with clients, etc. I think to myself, ‘Yoh! It must be nice. It must be really nice to have money coming in, without you having to lift a finger.’

I can’t relate. Children of ‘common wananchi’ toil the earth. This is good toil, I like it, but if my dad were Bill Gates, EcoNjia would probably be inexistent. I’d be at the Amalfi Coast, or just perpetually in bed, or hiking somewhere niiiceee. All that is possible for Softie just because he was born where he was born. He didn’t choose it. We have to work to eat because we were born where we were born (and because we are responsible??). We did not choose this life.

Life is interesting. I like it.

I wish you all the best, if you’re labouring. That labour fills you with joy and satisfaction, and/or, pays your bills. That counts for something. Remember to be grateful. If you’re like Softie, take me to the Amalfi Coast, please.

Thanks.

Yours,

Njoks.

Bill Gates’ money would be really nice though.

I was supposed to write this article a week ago, but I didn’t, so here I am. Good things take time? Yes! Good things, sometimes, take time.

First of all, hi please. I hope you are well. Thank you for returning here to read my work. If this is your first time here, hi very much please. You’re welcome.

ire

/ˈʌɪə/

noun

Meaning: anger

Synonyms: rage, fury, wrath, hot temper, outrage, temper, crossness, spleen, annoyance, exasperation, irritation, vexation

Exactly a week ago, I almost witnessed death. Someone almost lost their life, as I watched. Yes, you read that right. That was the first time I witnessed anything like that, and it shook me.

This story will mostly be relatable to my Kenyan audience, so non-Kenyans, stick with me till the end, for lessons, or just for the story. Here’s what happened. Soooo, on that day, I woke up, did a few things in the house, got ready hurriedly, and left. I had errands to run in town (Nairobi’s CBD), so, like most Nairobians, I boarded a SuperMetro bus. I love SuperMetro. I really do. You probably know why.

The bus left almost as soon as I boarded, and that made me happy. I’d get to town in good time. Yum! It was an ordinary trip, with people boarding and alighting at different bus stops, until we got to one major bus stop and half of the passengers alighted. Now, if you’re Kenyan, you know that there are these guys who wait at different bus stops, and they help touts to fetch customers, so that the bus is filled to capacity, fast.

At this major stop, as expected, one guy, let’s call him Omosh, started bringing passengers to the bus, and within a few minutes, the bus was full, and we left. Yay! I was seated right behind the ‘cockpit’ (where the driver sits), but on the side closer to the door, you get? The cockpit was right in front of me, and the door was right behind me, so I could see the road clearly (I love window seats).

Usually, after the guy has brought enough passengers, he’s paid by the tout (about KSh. 20 to KSh. 50, that is, a maximum of 0.37 euros). As I was enjoying the trip, looking at buildings and trees, I heard someone shouting:

“Wee hebu nipatie dough zangu!” (Give me my money!)

So I turned and saw Omosh. He was infuriated. He was still in the bus, asking for his pay from the tout.

“Nimesema unipatie pesa zangu wewe. Tusikosanie heshima.” (Give me my money. Let’s respect each other.) (Translating is weird, haha! Learn Swahili, y’all!)

Tout (Kimani): Sina pesa mimi. (I don’t have money).

Guy (Omosh): Huna pesa aje na nimekujazia gari vizuri? Ungesema huna mapema kabla nikufanyie job. (What do you mean? You should’ve told me beforehand).

Tout (Kimani): Hakuna job umefanya. Hujajaza watu hapa, juu hawa watu walikuwa kwa stage. Ukitaka washukishe basi. Sina pesa ya kukupatia… (You did nothing. If you want, ask the passengers you brought to alight…)

This went on, and Omosh got really vexed, understandably so, because the tout, Kimani, was clearly being unreasonable and rude. Like, just give the man 20 shillings, for crying out loud. Sasa, Omosh, akashika Kimani mashati, asking, ‘Ni madharau ama?’, wanting to slap him. All of us now were just like, ‘Please pay the guy.’ Kimani was arrogant. He refused to pay him.

Omosh, in his anger, had a thought, to ‘pay himself’. What happened next felt like a movie. At this point my neck was almost sore cos I had to turn to see what was happening. Omosh snatched Kimani’s baseball cap, and jumped out of the MOVING BUS. Omosh jumped out of a moving SuperMetro!! You know inertia. You know that a tarmac road is not your friend. Friends, I screamed. Omosh fell, and rolled forward, and the tyres almost crushed his head. He somehow moved it fast enough, and he had his fingers crushed instead. Cos of all the screaming, the driver stopped the bus, and do you know what happened? The tout, Kimani, alighted, walked to the side of the road where Omosh was lying in pain, and he took his baseball cap, and off we went, to Nairobi’s CBD. What the hell???

Everyone in the bus condemned Kimani, but I could not stop thinking about Omosh. I could not stop thinking about anger, and its effects. I didn’t see how badly his fingers were crushed, whether he had some left, but I knew for sure that at best, he would spend at least KSh. 2000 on treatment. Worst case? That he would never be able to use his hands normally, ever again. Why? Well, because he acted, in/with/from anger.

I thought about myself and where I had let anger control me. I don’t have anger issues, as it were, but I’ve said hurtful things when angry. (Uncontrolled) Anger is the reason some are in prisons right now – stabbing a cheating husband, pouring acid on a girlfriend for flirting with another man, poisoning a sibling over inheritance feuds. Anger, like every other emotion, is useful. It’s healthy to feel angry, as it can motivate you to make changes. It protects you from a potential threat (e.g., the partner who’s a serial cheater), and it even makes you aware of your values and can help you to define boundaries. Basically, anger is activated when our situation isn’t aligned with our values. Omosh values respect, which is why he said, ‘Tusikosanie heshima…’. He values respect, which warrants that he gets paid for a job he has done, and done well. Anger has damaged relationships, even in families, and while this is not direct physical harm, it brings emotional damage. Omosh almost lost his life. I’m very glad he didn’t.

Well-managed anger is useful. Allowing anger to control us can cause harm to others, and to ourselves, so, keep that emotion in check. In the moment of rage, take deep breaths, find your center, walk out of that room, go take a walk, write it all down… Do whatever it takes to ensure that you do not say/do stuff that you’ll regret.

Think about Moses. I honestly think that he received a harsh judgement (no, I’m not questioning God’s sovereignty), but yes, in his anger, he struck the rock instead of speaking to it. He was denied entry into the Promised Land (Raila’s followers know this feeling too well). Read Numbers 20 to get the full story. Earlier in Egypt, out of anger, he had killed an Egyptian, and it caused him distress. He had to flee to Midian. On the bright side, he got himself a babe there – Zipporah.

Don’t be like Omosh. Don’t be like Moses. Check that good-not-so-good emotion – anger, vexation, ire.

Until next time, adios!

Yours,

Njoks.

P.S: I love that y’all have been leaving comments. Feel free to tell me what anger has made you lose/learn. We listen but we don’t judge, I promise.