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.

1. Them: What would you really like to achieve by 2024?
2. Them: What is item numero uno on your bucket list?

Me (answering these questions in 2020): Heck! Visit FRANCE!

I did.

I visited France, and stayed there for a month! Now, everyone would tell you that if you’ve not been to the Eiffel Tower, you have probably not been to France. It makes sense, because the tower is a prominent symbol of France, and it’s undoubtedly an engineering feat.

I remember the first day like it was yesterday. As soon as I saw the ‘Welcome to France’ message on my phone, I started crying. I’m crying now as I type this. It felt surreal, because it had been my dream since 2020 after reading the works of Albert Camus, the famous French philosopher and author. I loved his book, ‘The Plague’, and just started reading about the French – their passion, their pastries, their wine. Them. I was fascinated. So my tears on that first day were not the cute, girly tears. I sobbed – ugly crying, because I had achieved my goal. I WAS IN FRANCE.

I experienced France for a whole month, so I can’t give you a whole breakdown of my stay. Let’s focus on the Eiffel Tower and what I learnt. It could be a great lesson for you, too. So, before going to Paris, I had travelled to Lyon (second-largest city in France), stayed in the southern parts of France, in Montpellier (a Mediterranean coastal city), and in Grenoble (most beautiful place on earth, in the Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes region), and while I loooooveeeed these places, I could not wait to visit Paris. I could not wait to see the Eiffel Tower.

My friends and I organized a road trip to Paris, finally, and I could barely catch sleep, the night before our trip. We woke up early, bought snacks, and off we went. After what seemed like eons, there we were – I saw posters of Kenyan athletes like Kipchoge who had represented us in the Olympics and felt proud to be Kenyan, then, I saw the Eiffel Tower from afar, in all its glory, and I screeeeaaammmeeddd. I could not believe it!!

We finally got to the city center, and the tower was right there. When I got to Grenoble, I cried, because of the beauty of the Alps Mountain Range. Yes, the Alps are not only in Switzerland – there’s the French Alps, Alps in Italy, Slovenia, Austria, and Germany, but that’s besides the point. This is not a Geography lesson, haha. Here, in Paris, I was more shocked than pleased. Paris is not as dreamy as I had imagined, as influencers had made me believe, as literature had convinced me. First of all, I expected that Paris would smell like a dream – a mixture of smells from the many boulangeries (bakeries), rich coffee from the coffee shops, smells of new books from the bookshops and old ones from the libraries, expensive perfumes from the artists strutting the streets of Paris… I was wrong. Many parts of Paris smell like PISS, and cigarette smoke. Paris smells like pollution.

Granted, the architecture is yummm! Tourists are in droves, but that was all. I got close to the tower and was like, ‘Is this it? It’s just metal. It’s just tall metal in a polluted place with a million tourists and a thousand and three Senegalese hawkers trying to sell Eiffel Towers keyholders…’ That was all. In that moment of questioning what the hype about Paris was all about, I thought about my time in Grenoble and Montpellier. I enjoyed those two places, but they were, for lack of a better word, ‘Placeholders’. They were holding me, before I could get to my dream city, Paris. I wished I had enjoyed them more, fully, without the obsession of wanting to be elsewhere. Still, in Paris, I took pictures, went to a cute coffee shop, and visited other tourist attraction sites such as the Champs-Élysées Avenue. I had to make the trip count, the smell of piss notwithstanding.

They have a name for it – destination addiction – always striving, never arriving.

I love good things, and I think I’m hella ambitious too, and while these have had positive impacts, they’ve also given me mad anxiety at different points in my life. I am rarely where my feet are, because I’m often stuck between nostalgia, and over-obsession with the future. While in my final year of undergrad, I was like, ‘I can’t wait to finish school so I can start working…’, then I started my first job and was like, ‘Now I miss school cos of all the free time I had and I don’t think these guys are paying me enough…’, then I got a better job and was like, ‘This is really good. What if it ends?’ Then I went back to school and was like, ‘So, what’s next?’ months before graduation. I don’t know how to take it one step at a time. Then I started a business and sometimes I’m like, ‘What if I cannot sustain myself?’

Anxiety is not all bad, because it motivates you to be aware of risks, and to stay prepared. Anxiety, in the right doses, protects you, while too much of it can be crippling, and it can make you sick. Being anxious about a job ending will motivate you to save, being anxious about transitioning from school will motivate you to apply for jobs, and so on. You catch the drift.

Planning for the future has its place, but I think that the ‘NOW’ is more valuable. It’s what you have. It’s criminal to be so obsessed with the future, or to be so stuck in the past, that the present becomes burdensome. I have heard the phrase ‘Live in the now’ numerous times, and my goal is to truly, live in the now. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Heck, I don’t even know what will happen five minutes from now.

I don’t know the stage of life you’re in. Perhaps you’re a new mother and you feel like you can’t wait for your little one to join uni so that you can have your time back. They will go to uni and you’ll crave their cuddles and them being in your space. You will start begging them to visit you. Enjoy the now, or at least try to, even with your interrupted sleep schedule. Perhaps you’re in school, living with your parents, and you can’t wait to start working so you can have a place of your own. You’ll start working, and you’ll start buying curtains and maize flour, and you’ll wish to be back home. Enjoy the present. Perhaps you’re employed and you can’t wait to get to a managerial position. You will, and you will miss not having to follow up with people and their tasks. You’ll miss not having to be responsible for a big team. Enjoy the present. Perhaps, like me, you’re in a new venture and you’re making Amount X weekly, with one employee, and you can’t wait to start making Amount 1000X daily, with a big team. You’ll get there, and you’ll start dealing with the Kenya Revenue Authority. Perhaps you’re single and can’t wait to start dating/get married. You will, and you’ll miss the freedom that comes with singlehood – more time and space to yourself…

What am I saying? Allow yourself to dream. Allow yourself to want things. Allow yourself to want to go to Paris. Plan. Save for it. Shop for it, but do not let your planning for Paris stop you from enjoying Grenoble and Montpellier. You might get to Paris and find that it smells like piss. Plan for the future, but be here, in the present. Now, breathe in deeply, hooollddd, breathe out, and repeat four times. You are doing great. Be where your feet are, and never forget to breathe.

The Eiffel Tower is really, just metal.

I hope you have a great week. I know I will.

Be well.

Yours,

Njoks.

P.S: Don’t forget to like, share, comment, and subscriiiiiibbbeee! Thanks for being here. Oh, I bought an Eiffel Tower keyholder from one charismatic Senegalese, well, cos he looked like me. We, are made of black.

Two blogs in two days? Yesss! New year, new me, haha. Seriously, I’m doing a 50-day challenge that requires me to post at least one blog, daily, about absolutely anything. Good stuff, right?

Yesterday you read about how my character was developed by a carpenter. My favourite carpenter is Jesus – He put it in my heart to forgive the (bad*) carpenter, which brings me to my first point about the things I’m currently loving (read, ‘obsessed with’):

1. The Ten Days of Prayer – this week there was a session about forgiveness, which happened to be right after the session about ‘God will provide’. The pastor, Douglas Ochanda, is using the Lord’s prayer approach, and for some reason, I, like many Christians, love to hear ‘good’ things like: If you ask anything in my name, I will do it (John 14:13). God provided manna for the Israelites in the wilderness (Exodus 16), He met their DAILY need. I love this part of the Lord’s Prayer: give us this day our daily bread. The next part gets tricky: ‘…and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.’ That carpenter really trespassed against me, and before listening to that sermon, I was bitter, especially whenever I’d walk past his workshop. I’d feel a ‘kiwaru’ in my throat, then after the sermon, I decided to let it go, even just for my own good cos as sure as death and taxes, that carpenter does not think about me. I was the only bitter one. Also, my gracious Lord forgives me of my many trespasses daily, as He provides the bread, so… Do you need to forgive anyone today, even though they have not expressed remorse? Do. All that to say, I am really loving the Ten Days of Prayer (it’s an Adventist program held once every year. You could find the sessions on YouTube if interested). I also love being an Adventist (sips chia seed + flax seed + banana + turmeric + black pepper smoothie because, hello health message? Seriously, I read somewhere that black pepper increases the body’s ability to absorb turmeric’s compounds, so turmeric + black pepper is better for the body than turmeric alone.)

2. My brown hair. Yesss!! I dyed my hair a couple of days ago, after having black hair, all my life. I needed a symbol of doing things differently this year – a constant reminder that I could see and touch, and because I’m not into getting piercings and tattoos, I dyed my hair. I’m so glad I did. Below is a screenshot of what I wrote when I got it dyed:-)

3. This Ordinary facial cleanser that my sister put me on. I loooveee itttt! I’ve always loved foaming cleansers, like the CeraVe one cos I feel like they get the job done, since I have oily acne-prone skin. This cleanser feels like lotion yet it cleanses my face quite well. I’m into it.

4. The MSK face mask that I got, again from my sister (People without big sisters, how do you do this life??). Wearing it feels like someone is hugging my face. I love taking care of my skin, without the expectation of it being flawless. I last had smooth skin in 2011, right before adolescence hit, and at some point the acne got so bad that my dad took me to some dermatologists. I even had a phase of applying everything everyone recommended on the internet – apple cider vinegar, turmeric and honey, lemon juice, egg white, y’all!!! I got tired, and found three decent products that ensure I have minimal break-outs – cleanser, moisturizer, and sunscreen.

5. This nail care set that I got from my sister. She gets me everything, really. It’s soooo cute, though I don’t know what half of the items here are supposed to do. I only use the pair of scissors, clippers, files, and cuticle remover. Also, it’s greeen!! Helllooo?

6. Miniso stationery – the truth! Functional and beautiful items from Miniso are an aphrodisiac, I promise. I got this set from my sister, yet again. It’s not green. It’s grey. I love grey, too. Do you?

7. Seven is the number of completion. I love my sister – she is not a thing, but I’ve been loving her, since 1998. She washed my nappies and now I get to enjoy all these gifts. Being someone’s little sister is my favourite occupation. Whoop whooopp!!

What’s one thing you’ve been loving? The pair of socks your girlfriend got you? My consistent blogging? Yes? Haha. Thanks for being here. See you again, very soooonnn.

Be well!

Yours,

Njoks.

‘Ogopa Nairobi!’ is a phrase you have heard, or used, severally. I know I have used it a million and one times, especially, since the year began.

Happy New Year 2025, first of all. I hope you have been well. I’ve been alright for the most part. The other part that hasn’t been alright has been dealing with the fatigue, self-doubt, and imposter syndrome that plague new business owners. We’ll talk more about that some other time. In the meantime, read more about my work on http://www.econjia.com. Whoop whoop!!

Now, back to ‘Ogopa’ (English translation – Fear). People have been showing me dust. Exhibit A – let’s talk about service providers. On the 28th day of December 2024, I requested a carpenter to do a painting job for me. I needed him to repaint three wooden tables, okay? A table has two parts – the top, and the bottom, so he had to unscrew the wooden part from the metallic stands to properly paint both sides and to varnish the metallic stands, yes? Yes!

Trouble began on the first day. He said he’d collect the tables (from the house to take them to his workshop) at 11 am. He came at 3 pm, without any communication about getting (significantly) late, he collected the tables and I paid 50% of the total service cost. Then, he said the paint would have dried enough by 7 pm, and that he’d bring them back by 7.20 pm. At 7.40 pm, after getting impatient, I decided to leave the house to go buy something, and I met him and his colleague bringing the tables back, so I had to walk with them back to the house. I did not even get to the shop.

We got to the house and my first thought was, ‘These stands don’t look varnished…’ but I dismissed the thought, attributing it to the fact that it was dark, that he couldn’t not have done what I had paid him to do. So they put the tables in the house, I paid the remaining 50% and walked back to the shop briefly after they had left. I, then, came back home and slept, like a sloth.

I woke up the next day at exactly 7.44 am, which is when my daily alarm sounds, brewed tea, and sat to enjoy my tea, to teatox. That’s when I found out that the carpenter had played me!! Not only were the stands not varnished – they looked worse because white paint drops were all over them. He had done a careless job. He should have wiped the paint off where it wasn’t supposed to be. Worse, he had only painted the top part, and completely ignored the sides, and the bottom. My friend!! At this time, my blood was boiling because I had initially thought that he was overcharging me, but I decided to just pay him, telling myself that he values his work highly, meaning he’d do an excellent job. I was wrong. So I breathed in and out a couple of times to calm down, then I called him and complained calmly, and he told me he’d collect them by 3 pm. He did not come and he did not pick up my calls. This story is long. Let me try to summarize it because typing is making me feel angry again.

After a few days of him lying to me, the new year celebrations were upon us so I went to my grandparents’ place, and ‘forgot’ about the tables. I remembered on 3rd January when I got back home at around 2 pm. I called him, and he said he’d come at 4 pm. He did not, and again, he ignored my calls. So, the next day, I got some other guy around here to take the tables to the workshop, and I passed there and told him, ‘Tafadhali nitengenezee hizi meza by kesho saa tisa. Nafaa kutoka…’ and he said, ‘Sawa. Nitazileta.’ He did not. Is reading this making you feel mad? It gets worse.

For three days, I passed there and there were always stories:

‘Nitazileta jioni’ and he doesn’t. He ignores calls.

‘Unajua lazima kwanza ninunue rangi na kuna pesa nangojea…’ I had paid him the full amount so I didn’t want to care.

I got the tables back, just the other day, after wearing my ‘fluent English’ cap, and threatening them. Before, I’d talk to them like the regular girl next door, using words like ‘Please’ and ‘Kindly’ like my mother taught me. On this day after running errands in town, and being frustrated by someone who was supposed to deliver EcoNjia journals (save our WhatsApp number to see what our journals look like – Message Eco Njia Limited on WhatsApp. https://wa.me/message/5AQN3WQLBKN6D1), I went to the workshop and gave them a piece of my mind. In fact, I may have given them my full mind. I told them that if the tables weren’t in my house by 5 pm the next day, they would face the music, in English. I also told them that at 5.05 pm, I would be at their store to check their business permit, pretending to be a county government official, using the ‘Hamjui mnacheza na nani’ line. They fell for it. In fact, I almost (fake) called someone ordering them to visit the workshop the next day, ready to collect the items at their workshop for auctioning purposes, because I was certain they weren’t compliant. I didn’t have to, though, cos I could see they got scared.

Friends, I got my tables back the next day, by 5 pm. I even feel like cleansing them to get rid of that bad energy. One of the tables actually got burnt-ish on Sunday. Bad energy. I shall do the cleansing – burn sage or something. Haha!

The other reason that makes me say ‘Ogopa’ is because of how people disrespect other people’s money. Yesterday I had to beg for my money from a friend I lent money to in 2021. They promised to pay me back by July this year. They said the same thing in 2023.

I’m learning that fairness is quite normative – a very subjective concept, that may even be foreign to some people. For a long time, my expectation of other people’s fairness was based on my own metrics of fairness, like, ‘I wouldn’t do that to you. Why would you do it to me?’, and I’m not claiming to be morally superior. I just know that I wouldn’t do anyone dirty – not intentionally. If you paid me to paint X and Y, I would paint X and Y, not X only. If I borrowed money, I would pay it back on Wednesday as promised, not five years later, and if I was really unable to refund, I would communicate it to you on Tuesday.

In Nairobi, and probably everywhere else, there seems to be minimal regard for doing right by others. Now, if your character, like mine, has been developed, you need to adapt. We need to adapt, by learning to say ‘No’. It’s a full sentence. Lend money mindfully. Also, I need to adapt by making a lot more money, so that I just go to the BoConcept Showroom, buy exquisite ready-made tables that would need repainting after 84.5 years, if at all.

Nairobi has shown me dust. I have wiped it off (like the carpenter should have wiped the paint drops off the stands), so I can see ahead. Has your character been developed? How? Let me know in the comments section so I can laugh at you, or empathize with you. We’ll see.

Be well. Talk again soon.

Tread carefully in the dusty Nairobi streets, please.

Impact-Site-Verification: 4a1d6822-379f-4ffe-9c8a-3c9682f143ba

I have become dishonest – lying to you, my reader is what I’ve been doing the last couple of months. I want to give you what I had promised (two blogs per month), but I’m seemingly somewhat incapacitated. I’m sorry. (Insert Pastor Ng’ang’a’s voice: I’m very sorry, aah, hata nasema sorry ya nini na si mimi nimekata hii internet? How can I say sorry? I’m not sorry… Here’s the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuDbx3gS7vs&t=4s )

Hey hey! I hope you’ve been fine. I have been well, and excited, and busy, and sleepy, and grateful, and cold, and happy, and most importantly, I have been alive. We’ll do a proper catch-up session in the new year, yeah? I just caught myself in a really good mood and decided to blog, a short and sweet one – ten things on my mind, not in the order of importance:

1. How is today 18th December? I swear, it was 3rd January just four days ago! I love that time is flying, but I also, equally, don’t. I’ll soon turn 84, damn it.
2. Cheese is unnecessary. I don’t understand people’s obsession with it. Thembi and I went to the supermarket yesterday and she got excited about the different varieties, took different packs of cheddar cheese and almost bought some cheese sticks snacks. Milk is okay. Yoghurt is awesome. Ice cream is heaven. Cheese is disgusting, bitter and smelly. In my (not humble) opinion, it’s better on pizza, not the sticky kind – a crispy layer, as thin as your hair strand – as thin as my father’s patience.

3. Men are nice. Whoever said they’re animals should be sentenced for life without parole. Truly, I love how men (who like you) can actually bring you joy, or flowers. Have you ever received a bouquet of flowers? Yes? I’ll feel jealous only if they were yellow.

4. What can I do next year to actively give back to society? How can I put my skills/talents to good use? I don’t want to annoy God by hiding my light under a bushel. I feel like I’ve been doing that a lot.

5.Why didn’t I invest in candles sooner? Burning candles in my house has been oh, so therapeutic! They make me feel like I’m on top of my game.

6. Manchester United can be embarrassing. They’ll be playing against Liverpool today and I’m not sure how they’ll want to kill their fans – a 7- Nil loss, or a 3 – Nil loss? There’s one way to find out. I have their jersey. If they lose again, I’ll burn it.

7. Am I one of the two people on God’s green earth who add ketchup to potato crisps? Do you? Do you think it’s gross? If you answered yes, consider yourself, as a matter of fact, blocked.

8. My parent is growing old. I hate to admit it, but it scares me to think that they’ve already lived most of their life. My old man’s beard is grey now. I pray he lives long – 107.25 years.

9. Sauti Sol broke my heart. I am actually mad at them for deciding to split. Which is you favourite Sauti Sol song? Mine is an oldie titled ‘Awinja’.

10. I wonder why you read my blogs and fail to subscribe. Are you a bad person? No? I thought so. Subscriiiibeee. RustyFingers will blow up in 2024 and you’ll be proud to be a subscriber, I promise.

Now, tell me one or two things on your mind – have you found a one-off solution to climate change, or a cure for cancer, or are you thinking about why you can’t sleep without socks on, or why you’re always losing your scrunchies? I’m here for it all. Talk to me.

Later, alligator. Thanks for stopping by!

Starting to blog on a lovely Friday afternoon, as I drink ACV water cos Dr. Google says it helps to manage blood sugar. Google has a lot of opinions, just like I do.

Do you want to know why my fingers are sore? Of course you do. It’s why you clicked on the link, yeah? Thanks for caring! My aunt made me slice vegetables, and I’m not talking about ‘spinach and kales za twenty bob…’ I am talking about kales and spinach worth about KSh. 300, not bought from a nearby greengrocer, but from a farmer – a generous one. Do you know what that means? It means they were many, and because they were fresh, straight from the farm, they were dirtier than your roof. Dirtier than earth even. Today is Friday, and we’re Adventists, which means today is Preparation Day and in most homes, it means cooking chapati or githeri (what’s the English word for this? It’s corn mixed with beans.) I prefer chapati, yay! Aunty cooked some.

1532 hours (East Africa Time) on 19/09/2023 – Njoki opens her WordPress account to blog, after three long years! The last blog she wrote was a stock-take of the things she was enjoying in 2020: https://rustyfingers33.home.blog/2020/11/15/i-am-here-now/ , and at the time her nephew was barely three months old. He’s three now and is the reason she didn’t start writing at 1300 hours – he wants to either cuddle or destroy her laptop by hitting it with a ball and trying to remove the keys with his cute, fat, greasy hands. There’s no in-between. Njoki has missed blogging, so she’s back at it, to do it consistently, or so she hopes.

Hi. My name is Njoki. I have a 3-year-old nephew with cute, fat hands (now greasy, distracting my work). I have another cute nephew (currently in school, definitely not distracting me). I love to write. If you know me, I bet you know that, don’t you? I write on my journal from time to time and almost daily on my WhatsApp status, and those expire in 24 hours. WordPress is forever, and I hope to make this blog my primary creative outlet moving forward. Yaaay!

Before I started writing this one, I called my ex boyfriend. Do you talk to your exes? No? I had to call him because ‘RustyFingers’ was our passion project. We met many years ago and hit it off immediately, partly because of our shared love for literature, for writing, so when we finally started dating, we decided to run a blog together. The call went something like:

Njoki: Heeey! Did I catch you at a good time? Do you have time for a two-minute quickie conver…

The Ex: (before I could say the word ‘conversation’) Haha! I am never a two-minute man.

Njoki: (Major eye roll) You didn’t let me finish talking, and the word ‘quickie’ means anything that is done rapidly or quickly, not just coitus.

The Ex: Of course, Njoki. We can talk for ten minutes if you like…

Njoki: Can I make ‘RustyFingers’ my thing now?

The Ex: Yes, that’s not a problem. I have a few drafts saved by the way- wrote them about a month ago.

Njoki: Cool, thanks, Ex! Do you remember our Gmail account’s password?

The Ex and Njoki: (both laughing hard, one with a very deep voice) You know I do, and you do too… Hahahaa!!

(We talked a little longer and bid each other goodbye)

That password remains our thing. The blog is now ‘MY THING’, purely. I think after we broke up I found it hard to detach blogging from our relationship as we had it, so I never blogged since we weren’t together anymore. Additionally, procrastination (read ‘laziness’), questioning whether or not my work matters (like, who cares anyway? No one’s life depends on your writing, plus there are other bloggers that talk about what you can talk about so there’s probably no point.), and really, life just getting in the way.

LydiaKM in a recent reel said, ‘Keep creating. Honour that desire to create. You have no idea what your light could do to someone. That special thing you want to let out, please let it out. If you’re bogged down with doubt, remember that your light matters…’ Here’s the link: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxVAn6SIhJl/?igshid=MWZjMTM2ODFkZg%3D%3D

Now, because I can, I have decided to get out of my own way, to stop being lazy, to stop being a terrible steward of the gift God has given me and heck, to stop questioning the essence of my work. My light matters, and so does yours. It may not be writing for you, perhaps it’s baking, singing, preaching, teaching dance, web design, name it. What (good) thing have you for a long time wanted to do but keep holding back, for whatever reason? Let this blog be your cue to keep going, or to even just start, and while at it, we can stop selling ourselves short and monetize our skills. A 2kg bag of maize flour goes for KSh. 230, and electricity tokens cost an arm, a leg and the left breast. Not fun!

For now I’ll commit to posting three blogs per month, so this is the first of many.

Thanks for stopping by. If you haven’t subscribed to my blog, I’m judging you. Subscribe noowwww, it matters. Don’t talk to your exes, well, unless you used to run a blog together, lol!

Until next time! Thanks for stopping by.