Posted in Day to Day life, Fashion, Short Stories, Thoughts

What is wrong with my outfit?

Photo by me

I bought the outfit in subject one Saturday afternoon from a woman in a second hand market. It was one of those days when I did not plan to buy anything in particular. I had been in the house for long and I decided to go out for a stroll when I stumbled upon a woman selling clothes at Ksh 50(half a dollar). They were that cheap because they were rejectees: you know those outfits that remain after people have picked out the best or decent ones.

I uninterestedly ran my eyes through the clothes and I was almost leaving when this black and white one piece, sort of jumpsuit caught my attention. I love monochrome, so naturally, I picked it up and tried it on. The saleswoman told me it looks good and as much I don’t trust the opinion of sales people, I trusted hers because I felt good in it. It was unique, edgy and just so me. I paid the Ksh 50 and happily walked home with my ‘sort of jumpsuit’.

Like a normal human being, I couldn’t wait to see myself in my gorgeous sort of jumpsuit. After washing and ironing it, a week later, I wore it with my black pair of sort of oxford flats and went to town to run some errands. That is when I took the photo. A couple of weeks later, my brother, who is younger than me by one and a half years and is a model other than being a student, came home from school for a short holiday. Excitedly, I showed him the photo of me in my sort of jumpsuit and he immediately rubbished it.

“What is this you are wearing?”
“It is a jumpsuit”
“I know a lot about fashion and jumpsuits and that is not it. It is ugly!”

That did not dampen my spirits though. On Monday, at the office, I showed a colleague the photo and asked him what he thought of it.

“You don’t go far from home whenever you wear it, do you?”

Next was my movie supplier. I was sitting in his shop while he was getting me my movies when I asked him what he thought of it.

“Well, it is…uum…different”

That was it! I had to defend my precious sort of jumpsuit.
I put the photo of me in it as my phone and laptop wall paper!

Ps: the original photo is actually good quality but it can’t attach in its original size and the cropping lowers the quality. I don’t know why.
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Posted in Poems, poetry, Thoughts

The old man

Yesterday I saw a man so old

Chewing at a grass

with the look of a mystery unsolved

Probably as he recalled

The smile so infectious and bold

That hid the heart so cold

That left him out in the cold.

Posted in Poems, poetry, Thoughts

A Shopaholic

Burning with vanity

And a touch of insanity

The high resisting gravity

Or the thought of being hit by sudden poverty.

Drifting in and out of stores

Seeking whatever gives the oohs

Not bothering to keep the scores

Just seeking more and more.

Posted in Anniversaries, Milestones, Achievements

Happy Blogivesery

My one year blog anniversary was on 20th of this month, I have had a crazy couple of weeks so I couldn’t publish anything.

In celebration of one year in WordPress as a poet and writer, I take you back to my very first article and my favourite one.

Of course I have grown so much from the girl who was hurting and self-absorbed after losing her mom;

Trapped

The room is dark

I can’t see

The air is musty

I can’t breath

The room is small

When I stretch out my hands I can touch the walls

The floor is wet

I can’t sit

My mind is clouded

I can’t think

There is no door

I can’t leave

No window

I can’t escape

I need to call for help

But I can’t make a sound

The walls are so high

I can’t even see the roof

I am trapped!

And the only light I have

Is the hope that somehow

Someone will rescue me.

….to the girl who cares for people other than herself; the girl who wrote this;

The pains of the African woman

Being an African myself, born and bred in Africa, I can say that I have had the displeasure of witnessing/seeing firsthand what the African culture/society has done to its woman.

Sure, I happen to be lucky enough to have a mother who made sure I know that my place isn’t the kitchen, that I can do anything and be anything I set my heart to, but that is not the case for every girl. The average African girl is brought up with the mentality that she is inferior to her brothers both young and old.

She has to serve her brothers as her masters. She has to serve them food and water even if they walk in when she is in the middle of her meal, and when they need a refill, she has to ‘pause’ eating and refill their plates. She doesn’t have a ‘name’ until she gets married and gets her husband’s name thus making marriage her biggest dream and highest achievement. Therefore, she learns how to be a ‘good wife’ from as early as she can walk; she learns to cook, fetch firewood, balance a pot full of water on her head cause, these are the qualities the man’s family will look at when the time for marriage comes.

If she falls pregnant while still in school or before marriage, she gets ostracized by everybody around her, while the boy, who made the same mistake as her, is treated with some sort of reverence because he has proved that he is a ‘man’.

When she gets married, she becomes her husband’s property. She is expected to just be seen but not to be heard. She can’t make any decision regarding the children, the family or even herself except what they are going to have for breakfast, lunch and supper. If the husband turns out to be violent, she is expected to receive every beating graciously because, well, there is no better show of ‘affection’ than a beating from your husband.

In the cases where the husband abandons her and the children, raises her children but at the end of it all, it’s said that the children belong to the man. If one or a couple of them end up ‘not doing so well in life’, then those are hers cause its assumed that they must have got it from her or she simply didn’t raise them well.

Video clips of cats drowning while trying to rescue their kittens, or dogs getting hit by a car or pleading faces of street kids begging for food are as sad as hell, but there’s nothing as heartbreaking as watching an African woman going through all this and so much more with a brave smile on her face.

I dedicate this one year anniversary to my mommy whose love for books was so infectious that I fell in love with reading and writing.

Of all my achievements, this website is my favourite one and it wouldn’t be running without your support, so thank you wonderful artistes and friends for your support.

Happy blog anniversary to me and this little website of mine !

Posted in Poems, poetry, Thoughts

Little Bird

Photo uploaded from google

Little bird settled on my window sill

Looking for food or time to kill

She pecked around for a deal to seal

I think she would have better luck way way up the hill.

Posted in Thoughts, Uncategorized

There is no honor in violence

I hate violence. Violence against women, against children, against human beings and against animals( those who load 400 litres of water on a cart pulled by one donkey and then lash the donkey to move faster all the way to their destination, you are pure evil).
What I witnessed on Sunday irked me to my bones. I saw two guys walking and entering a building which I believe is what we call a video show. A minute later, the guy who was at the front, who is built and strong, threw out the one who was at the back who is not built at all and appeared a little drunk.
The built guy then kicked him and stepped on his neck while the victim was just lying there, not trying to fight back and kept on saying “Go on, step on me, I have contributed a lot to this business.” And shamelessly, he kept on pummelling him while throwing victorious glances at me, probably thinking “oh she is so impressed by me now, seeing how I am totally winning this”. Well, screw you dude! I couldn’t be less impressed. Two or three more guys walked out of the building and pulled the victim to his feet and the built guy started slapping him on the face while again, the victim responded with” I have contributed a lot to this business”.
What angered me the most is that the guys weren’t even trying to help him. Nobody tried to prevent the bully from hitting him. And I just stood there, feeling very bad but unable to do anything cause I might have ended up being his next victim which wouldn’t have helped.
I disrespect violent people. Most of all, I disrespect those who fight against the weak. Those who fight against people who have no chance of winning against them. It is no fair fight. It is bullying. And moreover, there is neither honor nor glory in winning a fight against someone who had no chance of defeating you to begin with.
If you are one of these people, get yourself some class.