Posted in Inspirational, Lessons, Life, Short Stories

Learning to be the Hero of my own Story

Photo by Pexels

Yester-night, I listened to my little 19 year old brother finding it hard to accept that the people who he thought would always come through for him disappoint him.

A little background information: we were raised by a single mother who loved us fiercely, provided for us in every way, put our needs before hers, protected us fiercely and who sadly died last year after a short illness. I had just turned 22 and in my final semester in varsity, my little brother was 2 months shy off 18 and in his final year in high school. Her death left us hurt, alone and confused but despite all that, he passed his final exam, secured a place in a good university (he studies Bsc Computer Security and Forensics) and I graduated with a B.A Degree in Economics and Sociology.

My little bro arrived home this week for a 4 months holiday and being smart as he is, he has secured an internship in a Tech Company at the capital. He needs a place to stay during the internship so logically, he started making calls to people he knows there. As you can probably guess, he got either negative feedbacks or no answers or no call backs and text backs. This is excruciating and difficult for his young mind to accept and that is probably why he kept reassuring himself that they will come through for him. This of course means I am caught between the rock and hard place of whether to tell him the truth about how most people are or letting him learn it himself and praying that he has the strength to handle whatever he learns.

It has been a year and seven months since we lost our mother and in the ambiguously short and long time, I have matured a lot, learned a ton and wisened up a few years. I have learned that some people are very big-mouthed at making promises and tight-fisted when it comes to delivering them while others don’t make them but surprise you when you least expect them. I have learned to just smile beautifully when someone makes a promise and how not to take it at heart as that leads to disappointments. I have also learned to shut my mouth when I am about to make a promise and only surprise that person when I can as un-kept promises lead to pain and resentment.

I have learned that as much as no man is an island, we don’t need people to succeed. Who we need is God; to fully trust and hope in Him. What we need is to know that people are not reliable. That we can’t depend on them and if we do, we get hurt which might lead to hatred. That is not heathy now, is it? That the only person on this earth we can really depend on is ourselves. That constant self-improvement and resilience are the top recipes for success.

I have learned that everybody is busy living their lives and jumping over and stumbling on their own hurdles. That is probably why they are unreliable. Therefore we can’t hold it against them. Hypothetically, if this person is your grandfather or a very close relative, you have to cut ties with them to save your precious little big heart from their toxicity *wink wink.

I have learned to be my own strength, my own hero, to be my knight in shining armor, to stand up for myself, to be my own happiness and to be my absolute BEST SELF.

Above all, I have learned to treasure those who go hard for me cause that’s a rare beautiful thing.

Keeping all these in mind is freeing, peaceful and opens greater paths to success.

*I originally published this on Medium using my real name but made some few changes here.

Posted in Day to Day life, Experiences and Creativity, Short Stories, Thoughts

Self-pity is not a Good Outfit on Anyone

Photo uploaded from google

Recently, I felt the urge to talk to a certain beggar I usually see on the main street of my home town. On a hot Saturday morning, after stepping out of the supermarket, I walked over to him and sat next to him. I had it all planned out in my head but once we exchanged greetings, I found myself speechless.

I started fidgeting with my bag before blurting out “why do you sit here?”
“Because I have to get food or because I am poor.” Something similar to that.

In my young mind, I thought asking him about his family was the appropriate next question. So I did exactly that. In a piteous voice, he told me all his family depended on him. I had nothing else to ask or say so I made my apologies for the intrusion, lots of them, deposited some money on his hand and left.

Even though deep down I knew it was no fault of his to be a beggar, I found myself quiet annoyed with him for feeling sorry for himself.

It hit me then that the couple of times I have used self-pity (lost mother card) to get what I want (discounts), I must have annoyed the salespersons . I made a mental note to never do it again.

With that, I am leaving you with:

Photo uploaded from google
Posted in Experiences, Experiences and Creativity, Short Stories

Who Murdered Mr. Frog?

Photo uploaded from google

My little brother and I have always been partners in crime. I still remember the morning mommy brought him from the hospital, after his birth. Mommy sat by the dining table and told me to sit down so that I could hold him. I took one look at him and decided I wanted nothing to do with him because I couldn’t believe anyone could be that tiny. I don’t remember what happened that brought us close, all I know is that one day, we were inseparable and it has been so since then.

When I was 12, he was 8 then, we developed an unquenchable interest in frogs anatomy. I can’t tell whether it was because of Nat Geo or the big McGraw-Hill anatomy books we had at home. Anyway, after our own amateur research, we decided we were going to operate on a frog.

The day of the crime was a hot Sunday afternoon. You know how lazy people get on Sundays afternoon, after church and a heavy lunch. So it was the perfect day as mommy wouldn’t be paying that much attention to us.

After making sure mommy was doing her habitual Sunday afternoon reading , we set out to look for a frog. It did not take us long to identify our victim, a male frog hopping by probably looking for food or going back to his family. We kidnapped him and ran to the front of our house which was our rendezvous crime scene. I sneaked in to the house and stole the sewing kit. We had just cut his tummy open when we heard mommy’s footsteps. We quickly gathered our incriminating evidence and ran to the clearing on the left side of the house.

“Shah… Phil… Is that you?”
“Yes mommy.”
“What are you up to?”
“Mhhh…. Just kicking a ball around.”
“Okay then, don’t play any rough games.”

The two minutes exposure of the frog lungs caused it to inflate. All we wanted to do was cut it open and sew it back up, you know, like people do on TV and the pictures in the books. We did not want him to die on us.

“Hold it down by his limbs to keep him still while I sew him up, okay?

I frantically started sewing him from the neck down but the lung just kept ballooning. We were now desperate to keep him alive.

“Why don’t you tuck the lung in?”
“He will die.”
“Then puncture it a little to release some air.”
“Don’t you get it? That will kill him.”

After one more failed attempt of sewing him up, I threw the needle down.

“I guess he is going to die anyway. Let us release him so he can spend his last few minutes in freedom.”

We released Mr. Frog and for a moment, sadly watched him limp away before gathering our stolen kit and headed back to the house.

We had planted maize on the shamba at the back of the house and mommy had a habit of checking it every morning before settling for her tea. The next morning, as usual, mommy went to check on her maize. We had just started on our breakfast when she came back.

“I have just seen the most unsightly scene on the left side of the house.”

She liked pausing to let each sentence sink in whenever she was telling a story.

“This frog was lying dead on his back with his tummy open and what looks like a busted lung.”

Our appetite for mommy’s delicious pancakes was gone just like that.

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.