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Creative Non-Fiction


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Creative Non-Fiction

8 BOLLYWOOD MOVIES YOU PROBABLY SHOULD WATCH

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Photo Courtesy: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samir_Mondal

 

If you are thinking that bollywood is all about romance then you are getting it twisted. There are many moral and life lessons to be learnt but well, it all depends on your kind of thinking. Do you spend one/two hours watching something just because it was a hit and worth your cinema ticket or do you really try to analyze what is to be learnt from it? That’s food for thought but for now let’s get back to our topic. I am not always on track with the latest movies and most of what I’ve watched is many months or even years after it’s release. Nonetheless, I am critical in what I consider a good movie worth my time. These are just a few of which I think even if you aren’t a fan of bollywood, perhaps you should give a try to. They are quite some years old but their effect never get old on me. I am sure there are several more that have inspiring after-effects but this is what I could come up with for now.

1.Taare Zameen Par: My all time favourite. I have probably watched it a dozen times now. It still moves me. It still makes me cry like it’s my first time. The story revolves around a young ‘naughty’ boy who has a major problem in reading and writing. His father is very hard on the boy and keeps comparing him to his older brother who is just the ‘perfect son’; perfect grades, perfect cricket player. The young boy; Ishaan grows with a very low self esteem and becomes a loner. Only for his teacher to break it to his parents that he has dyslexia; a mental condition yet still a very talented artist. Coincidentally, Ishaan has several features like my baby sister. His height, slimness, the shape of his face, his teeth. Perhaps that is why it always gets to me but it has inspired me a lot. This is especially a good movie for parents (for teachers too); this exactly shows how scolding children really brings them down and how their support can make the best out of a student. How children should be allowed to persue what they can do best and for Ishaan, his art was simply spectacular! I’d just like to mention what the teacher told Ishaan’s father about a certain island called Solomon’s island where people don’t have to cut down the trees all they have to do is go in front of the trees and shout at them, insult, scold…and the trees die on their own. (Another food for thought).

I previously wrote an article about dyslexia which is also available on this site. That is how much this movie inspired me. You can always have a look at it! Well, to cut the long story short; it is definitely worth your time if you haven’t watched it already.

 

2.Bhaijang Baijarang: Well who hasn’t watched this?! A story about a very honest man trying to return a dumb girl back to her country Pakistan after getting lost in India. The obvious is that without anything this is already an awesome plot and a great story but there is about sacrifice here. How far do you go to helping someone even when you know you will be risking your life and not getting anything in return? Especially when you are dealing with a dumb girl and communication is such a struggle?! Crossing borders illegally is not exactly ‘an honest man’s way of doing things but he still tries his best to make it ‘right.’ I particularly like the similar ending of this movie and of the previous movie that I mentioned on Ishaan. The teacher throwing his student on air and in this, the saviour throwing Shaheeda (the dumb girl) on air too. Very moving! Very inspiring! Oh yes, stories involving children are simply the best! So, how much can you sacrifice for any human being?!

 

3.Ek Villain: Okay okay, it is a great love story alright but there is such a great lesson to be learnt from Aisha. Aisha is suffering from cancer and the doctors see no hope in her living any longer. So she has a bucket list that she wanted to empty before her death. A very interesting bucket list if I may add. But there is so much we learn from her. How her bucket list involves making other people happy more than herself. She keeps putting up very inspirational quotes on path ways. She is like a shining star that’s slowly falling. She smiles, she laughs, she has hope, she dedicates herself to fulfilling other people’s dreams even when she knew she was dying. But what I loved the most is how she taught her husband (who was filled with rage and pain over his alarming past) that darkness can never drive out darkness, it is only light that can drive out darkness. She was able to change her killer husband into something amazing. She was able to teach him that in life there is day too besides the night. We learn from her the art of being happy, of creating change in others, in being the light at the end of the tunnel for others. It is such a sad story and how it ended (or rather, started) wasn’t exactly what the viewers wanted but I like stories that beat the ordinary; unpredictable. Worth the watch, worth your time.

 

4.Three idiots: Ohhh boy. Amazing, simply tremendous! If you love stories about school life then this is definitely it. So much humour, adventures and craziness. But besides all that, this story evolves about three friends who invest all they have in their relationship. The kind of friendship that lasts forever. There is so much sacrifice, laughter, smiles, tears, sorrow, standing up for one another. Well, with our current world filled with fake friends maybe we can borrow a few ‘real friendship’ tips from these guys. Perhaps then we can start having the right definition of friendship.

 

5.Mary Kom: A tough girl who dreams of being a boxer and the obvious is that her father was totally against it. But she was persistent, still persued boxing, went training, had her many challenges but still became a champion. The twist of events happens when she gets married and gives birth to twins of which one was sickly. She had to stop boxing and training for a while and when she decided to come back to boxing it was like starting from zero again. But she still didn’t give up and struggled her way up once again. The perfect story for the saying, ‘where there is a will there is a way’. It’s all about dedication, courage, bravery, hard work and determination. You have a dream? It’s never going to come easy.

 

6.Baghban: Another very touching story of an old couple and their grown up children who decide to separate their mother and father after their house was sold. Really sad story in how it vividly potrays how children poorly traet their parents when they are of old age. The two parents are neglected and are hurt several times by their children and their spouses. The husband and wife miss each other but are miles apart and all they do is lie to each other that they are ‘okay’. Something interesting about this story is that their adopted son is the one who comes back to them, brings the two back together and treats them well more than their own children.  Yes, the story very well highlights that another man’s son could be better to you than your own family.  This is the ‘treat others right’ call. You just don’t know who will be good to you when you least expect it and who will be bad to you when you never expect it. Be good unto others, you just never know!

 

7.English Vinglish: Many of us take for granted our ‘illiterate’ parents and not just that, we rub it on their faces that they don’t know a thing. Well this is the same thing here. This story evolves around a very loving mother and wife who doesn’t know English. Her husband and daughter treat her awfully and mock her for being uneducated. When she travels to America for a family wedding, she secretly joins an English class. She gets to meet new people who really appreciate her and consider her delicious cookery as art. She starts loving herself for what she is and does all her best to learn English, which she does at the end. It’s a light story, perhaps not a super hit but one you can learn from. Again, where there is a will there is a way. She breaks all stereotypes around her and makes herself appreciated. The issue of parents come again; perhaps we really underestimate the damage we cause in our parents when we make silly jokes, mock them around or treat them misappropriately because of their weaknesses. Do only what you would want your own children to do to you!

 

8.BLACK: Being both blind and deaf from a young age is not any easy thing. This story talks about a young girl who becomes blind and deaf after recovering from some illness at the age of two. She becomes trapped in her own darkness and becomes a frustated and violent girl. Then comes this new teacher who is very hard on her at the start but he becomes the main reason of her learning and becoming better mannered. He teaches her to express herself. The teacher walks hand in hand with her in this journey until she is able to join university. She keeps failing but still continues persuing her dream until she finally graduates. At that time her teacher is already succumbing to alzheimer’s disease whereby he starts forgetting her and other memories too. On her graduation she ensures that her teacher is the first one who sees her in the gown and when he sees her he starts remembering bits from the past. They start pronouncing the letters together. It’s the teacher now learning from/with his student. Another inspiring story for teachers especially those dealing with special needs. What we learn? Teachers really have a great impact in our lives more than we assume.

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DISTORTED AS EVER

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Photo Courtesy: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/

By: ‘Mtoto wa Katama’

I remember when I was young, I was a penchant for the history of the world. Tales of ‘great men’, colonizers, freedom fighters, wars, politicians so on and so forth. If it wasn’t for the skewed education system in my country, probably right now I would be ‘languishing’ in the department of history in a university somewhere in the world. My love for history and how society came to be was greatly influenced by my father. A confusing character I must say, I would be convinced if someone confronted me and told me that my father lived a double life. He was an introvert by nature, and you could probably tell he had a ‘blast’ during his teen years, the endless stories of how he was the ‘coolest teen’ among his entourage. Yes, he had an entourage and one of my uncles who happened to be Mr. Kenya was part of his crew, and you can imagine the crew back in the 60’s.

Back to the endless stories, my father would narrate to me about the world war 1 and the sequel of it, and how Africans fought in the two wars which had nothing to do with them, imagine being ‘kidnapped’ a thousand miles away from your family, in the middle of nowhere standing with a rifle being ordered by someone who considers you his ‘subject’ to fight for your ‘freedom’. My father would just make you look stupid by asking you questions randomly in between the narrating like who Otto von Bismarck was, and while your just wondering trying to figure who the hell the guy was, he would pump you with ‘intel’ about the guy he just mentioned and heartily would sympathize with himself for paying school for a person who didn’t know who Otto van Bismarck was, but deep in my heart I knew he was doing all of that on purpose and probably found joy in making people look stupid by claiming that he is all knowing.

I remember this one time I was watching television with him, and all of a sudden a reggae music concert is aired on the television. My father with a lot of confidence he said that he knew the reggae artists, and they came from Taita Taveta, a local town just kilometers away from the city of Mombasa and that the television guys were not being honest for claiming that the guys came all the way from Jamaica. And there after he gave us a proper ‘lecture’ about fraud in the music industry during the yester years and how he gave a local promoter a beating of his life for failing to bring a Congolese artist after luring him to buy tickets for the whole of his crew for the concert and brought a quack artist, I can definitely picture what the guy went through, believe me when I say it was horrible. Later I came to found out through my brother who was an adherent fan of ‘Rastafarians’ who later was given the option to be a Muslim or Rastafarian after my father found that Rastafarianism was indeed a religion practiced by native Ethiopians that indeed the reggae artists truly came all the way from Jamaica but my father would not concede defeat and kept on to his word and even went further to claim that he even knew each artist and their whole clan. And that was my first disappointment with my first history teacher.

Through the years I came to learn that never learn about history through the society including my father but rather through the lenses of the society. This was evident in the history that I learnt in school about my country, its founding fathers, its heritage, its people and if I were to keep that and probably claim to be ‘educated’ I would have end up to be the greatest fool of all time but I hear they don’t give awards for that title. One thing I came to learn is that every society ‘sanitizes’ its own history according to its own political ambition and even betraying its own, I am not saying that we should not learn history from our own communities but rather we should hold its contents with a question mark and not subject it to total credence. Because overtime we have come to learn true ‘history’ after being fools for many years. Like back in junior school, we were taught to believe in that the Mau Mau literary fought the colonial masters and defeated them and such we became a free country, leading to our independence. With all the due respect to Mau Mau for their courage and valor, they were part of the struggle of the dream to liberate themselves and they paid it with blood, sweat and tears. A price so heavy that when we never taught in schools how they paid it in order to be politically correct and preserve diplomatic ties with your former ‘master’. I came to learn of the British transgressions after the former Mau Mau remaining members chose to sue the British government for damages and demanding recognition of the transgression, they were not able to mount a criminal case per say since the claimed transgressors who were acting under the orders of the Kingdom which is still in existence were not alive. I was overwhelmed with sadness for days, after reading through the atrocities committed especially against the women. But one thing that should not obscure our minds is what really happened, during the 60’s and the activities that lead to our independence.

During the early 60’s many African countries were gaining independence and it was by design, like in Kenya that transition was well organized and ‘peaceful’, it was a wave of independence glaring over Africa especially for the so called ‘African nationalists ‘who some neither never participated in any warfare but rather had the privilege to be learned others even in some foreign countries and assumed the realm of power. If Mau Mau so called ‘guerrilla warfare’ was solely responsible for the gaining of independence, why didn’t some of their ‘field Marshalls’ assume positions of power not even a single Mau Mau freedom fighters that I know of came even near to an influential post in the post-colonial  government. It was because Mau Mau was not a nationalist movement but rather an ethnic block which mainly constituted of ethnic Kikuyus and they had harbored no nationalist’s ideologies, their only agitation was to get their ‘fertile’ lands and protest their economic deprivation. Let alone the British, the Mau Mau never came near to defeat the home guards who were mostly Kikuyus and some even considered to be more ruthless than the white colonizers. Their uprising was short-lived and what followed was inhumane crackdown on Mau Mau followers which led to the arrests and detention of many ethnic Kikuyus which some other central and lower eastern tribes. With the continued state of emergency and ruthless crackdown some high profile Mau Mau leaders came out of hiding with the lure that they will be granted amnesty only to be arrested and executed after flawed court hearings.

By the time Kenya was gaining independence through ‘political goodwill’ from the colonial master, some remnants of Mau Mau were still hiding in the bushes not fighting but rather escaping arbitrary arrest and execution. And only after the assurance by the ‘founding’ father that they will be granted amnesty and a promise of having their land back which was the initial reason for uprising, they came out of hiding, and had ‘stints’ with the founding father and after a while their joy was short-lived, even the founding father held them with suspicion and did not want them in any process of engineering the country through self-rule. The questions to ask are if the Mau Mau uprising solely led to the independence of our country? And if yes, why did they come out ‘weaker’ from the bushes unlike other popular uprisings?  Like the Spanish and Napoleonic wars, with the likes of Simon Bolivar. If the Mau Mau were the political factor that lead to lead to self-rule, why did they become political weaker after independence.

The only reason why the Mau Mau were recognized was to hide the shame of the ethnic community which has already produce three presidents and hundreds of influential political leaders, they ‘sanitized’ their own history of betraying the Mau Mau and accorded them statues like Dedan Kimathi and a national holiday called ‘Mashujaa Day’. And forcing millions of Kenya through our education curriculum to learn that our independence was literary fought with armed resistance until we ‘defeated’ the British colony blinding the descendants of Mau Mau that their fathers and grandfathers blood was not spill in vain while they still languish in poverty. The British were so ‘defeated’ by the Mau Mau and thus leading them to ‘humbly’ invite our nationalists leader, the likes of Jomo Kenyatta, Oginga Odinga to the Lancaster house to discuss how they will approach self-govern. It would have made more sense if the representatives in the Lancaster house were the Mau Mau leaders. Long live the Mau Mau for standing and fighting for your land as and being heroes for your own communities. Your struggle shall never be forgotten and never be ‘sanitized’ to fit the political will of those who betrayed you.

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KISWAHILI KITUKUZWE

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Mwandishi:Sultan Karama Maji Male (kero)

Naam,ninaposhika kalamu kwa Mara nyengine tena, mara hii siandiki shairi kama ilivyo ada yangu bali ni kutafakari. Ni kutafakari tafakuri la sauti ili wasomaji nao wapate kutafakari na Mimi. Suala la uboreshaji was lugha ya kiswahili limepewa kisogo na muluki ya watu,sio kuwa wengi hawajui kiswahili Ila tu ni ile dhana iliotawala bongo zao ya kuwa kiengereza ni bora. Halikadhalika ni unasibishwaji wa lugha ya kiengereza na usomi.

Dhana ya kunasibisha lugha ya kiengereza na usomi ndicho chanzo kikuu cha kusambaratisha juhudi za wakereketwa wa lugha ya kiswahili katika kuikuza lugha hii. 

Stesheni za runinga na redio pia zimelemaa katika kuboresha lugha hii. Pindi nilipokuwa mdogo kulikuwa na vipindi maridadi kabisa vikiwemo:KISWAHILI KITUKUZWE KWANI NI LUGHA YA TAIFA. Ila ni kwa masikitiko makuu Taifa la Kenya limekuwa taifa lililo sahau chimbuko lake. Limekuwa taifa linalobeza tamaduni zake na kutupilia mbali turathi zake.  Waama tumesahau kuwa muacha mila ni mtumwa. Tamati ningependa kuwashajiisha katika kukienzi kiswahili. Kiswahili kitukuzwe kwani ni lugha ya taifa.

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HOW FULL IS YOUR PLATE?

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First step: Download the above photo.
Second step: Zoom the photo as much as you can.
Third step: Look at it keenly.

Do you see what I see? This is real. This is our real world.

You know what they usually say? You don’t miss the water until the well runs dry. You can never fathom hunger if you don’t know what it means to stay for two/three consecutive days without a drop of water or a piece of bread. You can never know what it feels like to have your stomach pinching you tightly like it’s about to excrete all your intestines. You can never really understand the value of the food on your plate until the day you probably get lost in a desert and all your water and food runs out.

A few days ago someone was telling me about a child in Samburu who was starving to the extent that his heartbeat rate was so low, people thought he is already dead. Can you imagine how many days this child could have stayed hungry? We fast for 12 hours and the speed at which we want to gulp everything down when we break the fast is supersonic. We want everything our hands can get to. We eat until we can barely breath anymore. Imagine this kind of ‘mini-hunger’ that we experience then triple that; that is what they go through DAILY. And mind you, it could be four/five, infinite times more.

Right now Israel has cut-off the water supply for the Palestinians in West Bank. This is not the first time, not the second and definitely not the last. So many in this same world that we live in stay for days without tasting even the tasteless, dirty, muddy water. Nothing in liquid form. They walk for very long distances in search of water and food. All they see is the mirage. The illusion of water. They think of water. They dream of water. Think of them, the Syrians, the Yemenis, Indians, our own Kenyans. All these countries either in war or in poverty. This is what they go through every single day.

If you are thinking that I am trying to make you guilty then you are on the right track. I am a victim of my own guilt. When your mother tells you just jokingly that there is no food today you will quickly question, “what do you mean there is no food?!” You will be miserable the entire day and probably the next too. “How dare they not cook food?!” You will whine. You will cry. You will not talk to anyone. Then what do you do when you have the food??

See how we go to eat in hotels and restaurants, touch food here and there then leave two potatoes, some soup and the juice only half empty. We pretend to be the elite class. We don’t want to be considered ‘greedy’ by clearing the whole plate so we leave bits of food here and there. I mean, who wants to be seen as ‘hungry?’ All we want to do is touch the expensive food, leave the plate almost as it first came, pay the bill with a tip because that is what the elite do or ‘should’ do. We have bars of chocolates melting in the fridge for days, half drank juices and lots of junk that ends up in the pit. We cook in extravagance and are quick to throw the food away the next day because ‘we don’t eat left overs’. My friend; if you knew what those left overs mean to starved people you would never leave even a single bit of anything that tastes or even smells like food. Let alone left overs, the rotten food that you wouldn’t give your cat is like wealth to them. When you see how happy they become when they receive food from those who remember them you’d think they just won a lottery.

The struggle is real. Not only here in Kenya but in so many countries. Hunger and poverty is eating people. We need to become really responsible on how we eat, how much we eat and how we use the water that we have in abundance. We need to start thinking of those poor children as thin as our fingers, those very old men and women seated by the fire, watching the empty pot as if food is about to miraculously appear. We have to think of those mothers and fathers who have to face their children once again to say the same thing, “we don’t have anything to eat. Be patient.” How they have to live with two kinds of pain; one of their own struggle and two, the pain of their children. We have to measure what amount to cook and how much water to use. We have to really REALLY try helping those who are hungry when we can. Let us pray sincerely for them and for their children. Let us also pray for all those who dedicate their time, money and energy to buy and provide them with food. These people are our real heroes and the least they deserve from us is prayers; they are doing what most of us have failed to do.

May God give these families the patience and easen it for them. May He protect us from hunger and grant us the hearts to feed others when we can. Ameen…and today, when you go to eat, check how full your plate is. Thank God for it. Share it if it is more than you need. Make a difference in someone’s life.

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KENYANS NEVER LEARN

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Photo Courtesy: zipo.co.ke

Something silly about Kenyans; they never learn. I mean, wasn’t 2007 post-election the biggest lesson for us as a country? Seeing the CORD anti-IEBC demos in Kisumu is just like watching the prediction of 2017 post-elections. It is dreadful. It is scary. It is alarming.

I have never been a fan of politics. In fact I never write about it. For a humanitarian, politics is just a filthy cloth to touch let alone wear. Although humanity is connected to politics such that it is best when they intertwine (i.e. good leadership and kind souls can do wonders to our country) these two things rarely ever come together over here. I am not politically affiliated, never have been and i’m not planning to be.

For the past few days the headlines have been about the CORD demos in Kisumu and how 8 Kenyans were shot by the police. Among those 8 injured is baby Jeremy who is just 6 years old. This angel at such a tender age already knows what it means to have a bullet in your body. This poor child has suffered the pain of having a hole dug in his body. He knows what it feels like going into the operation room, to be cut and to be bloody. You see his face and he is expressionless. But do you know lack of expressions is more saddening than it’s visibility. Seeing him cry means he is in pain but seeing him speechless means he is still trying to fathom what just happened. He is trying to let it sink in. He is drowning in the excruciating pain. His poor single mother doesn’t even know how to handle the situation.

But why, why don’t Kenyans ever learn??!

2007 post election violence clearly showed us what it really means to be a Kenyan. We were oppressed. We; the common Mwananchi. The local man who doesn’t have any relation to any politician. It was us who became IDP’s. Us who lost our mothers and fathers, our children and saw as our properties got burnt right in front of our eyes. It was us who were left with scars that will remain part of us for eternity. It wasn’t Raila or Uhuru or Kibaki or any other politician. It was us. They weren’t even scratched by all that happened. It was our floors filled with blood, tear gas, random gun shots and screams of agony. When will we ever learn that we are being our own enemies; digging our own graves??!

The demos in Kisumu have even affected the schools and businesses such that people and children are scared to go on with their daily activities. So now the minister of internal affairs has declared that there shouldn’t be any more demos due to the chaos taking place but will this rule be followed? And you know Kenyans hehe so long as it is not him or her who was injured, they will still appear the next time they are called for such.

If we are not careful, we are slowly creating another war to occur come next year elections. All this seems to be a shadow. If we don’t take it slow, we will definitely have more bloodshed, tear gas, police hitting Kenyans like dogs and more torture. Politicians are not your fathers to come nurse you when you are in the hospital after being shot from the chaos they started. Yes, it is true that it is our votes that count, that it is our votes that makes a good leader take the seat but let’s learn to play our cards well just like they play their cards marvelously. Be smart. Act smart. Learn how to see through your politicians. Be your neighbour’s keeper, and not the reason they are having a funeral. And most importantly, be a loyal Mwananchi to your fellow Wananchi.

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THIS THING CALLED LOVE

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Artist: Sunita Khedekar

They say too much of everything is poisonous. Everything includes love. But for love, too much of it is not just poisonous. It is disastrous. It is catastrophic. It is devastating. It is all that is beyond toxic.
It is what is making people commit suicide.
It is what makes people become murderers.
It is what makes people go insane.
It is what makes people lose themselves forever.
It is what makes people never trust again…
And not just romantic love but also material love, friendship love…whatever kind it is, it is agonizing when it exceeds the normal rate especially romantic love.
But let’s first rewind to how this whole thing called love starts.

I’ve always been a dreamer myself but when it comes to love I believe in reality as the clear picture. Perhaps it is because I have a very different view of love in general. My friends have always thought I am just too much of a hater to love and that I am too naive to actually understand it all. Well in this case, naivety is honestly bliss. It is actually ironic because I am such a lover of humanity and humanity goes hand in hand with love but I guess this is where my different definition comes in. I remember an instance years back when a friend told me of her relationship and I told her my honest thoughts of it in which her boyfriend decided to declare me jealous “because I had never been loved like that before”. Lol he should come to my home and see how my mother treats me like a baby. Love is love and when it is filial it is way powerful. I won’t say love is not something beautiful. I won’t say it is all pain and anguish but I will say it is not the most fulfilling feeling in this life as some perceive it.

One of the most accurate theories of love I have ever heard is one in Arabic language which speaks of how it usually just starts with a glance then a smile then greeting then a conversation then a date then it ends up in bed. It doesn’t happen so always but most of it starts like that. I always tend to look at the larger picture. Look at what is to be anticipated in this thing called love, ten years to come. At the beginning it’s such a fairy tale, a bubble filled with tinier colourful air bubbles, a fantasy of romance and anticipation of ‘happily ever after’. It is intense passion and that phase of ‘I cant live without him/her’ but slowly with time comes the comfort phase where the fire has calmed down and it is just the caring and loving feeling that keeps you together. But even that doesn’t always last long because this is when reality strikes. The honeymoon is over and it is time to pay bills and the house is dirty, needs to be cleaned,and the food needs to be cooked and each of your claws and flaws now start appearing. It is here when looks no longer matter and character and piousness is vital. It is at this point that you both need patience and understanding to break the walls. It is here when all the roses that were on the bed before start tearing you with it’s thorns. At this stage it’s either the comfort or the falling-out-of-love stage. Because trust me what comes next is either just routine with sparks of love here and there or just a gradual downfall of your marriage or love story or whatever.

I strongly believe in the wisdom behind the disapproval of teen love. Not because it is wrong to love but because we seek it at the wrong time with the wrong people. I have seen and witnessed enough to not believe in fantasy in the name of love. For me, life is the best teacher and the best experience. I have seen love-based marriages last only a month, I have seen couples who fought for each other for so long that you knew nothing would ever separate them yet I saw them fall out of love. I have seen the glimmer of love in the eyes die. I have seen lovers who ended up living together just as a routine yet it once started as one of the greatest love stories. Perhaps I am being a pessimist here or just that I am such an observer but I have learnt that love isn’t something to depend on entirely in your life. It dies. It ends. It gets buried. If you are lucky enough you will see the remaining sparks of it as you grow old and frail. If this is what happens to married people; people who’ve known each other inside out, people who’ve worn each other’s hearts on their sleeves then what do we expect from our immature brains and unfocused goals of life? I remember another incident of a mate who once talked to me about his girlfriend and when I told him it won’t last he said, “I hope I will still be in touch with you years from now so you see me marry her” Barely one or two years later he broke up with her and when I asked what happened he said, “Just like that…” Oh yeah…must be that he fell out of love.

Perhaps this is why I am not really a fan of writing about love or even talking about it because I know what I will say is not what you want to hear. You want to hear that it is beautiful, it is amazing, it is the best feeling in the world. You want to hear more of “happily ever after” but for me I will just tell you bluntly how much you could be wasting your energy and time on a person who won’t even look at you twice few months or even years from now. I know you want to object right now. You want to tell me of the lovers you know who are now happily married with cute children like themselves. I know you want me to bet on your life as well and that you are definitely going to be with him/her for the rest of your life. It’s fine. I know how being optimistic is important for you right now…and I won’t disagree that there are several love birds who actually married and are happy as we talk but let’s count how many they are. And when I mention love birds here I don’t mean those who fell in love and sought the right way by approaching parents, I mean those who were in a relationship or serious dating. How many of such have actually succeeded after marriage.

When that routine phase finally comes, it is when things just get cold and you barely have anything left to talk about. Sometimes it is just one partner who suffers it all. Perhaps still holding onto that teen passion that has long died in the spouse. She keeps fighting to bring back things as they were yet her energy all goes to waste. A friend of mine likes using this example about such love…it is like a wall between two people; two lovers and the wall is about to fall. Both of you need to exert pressure on the wall from both ends to make the wall stand upright once again. But here is the woman…or even the man maybe, exerting all the pressure yet the partner is not doing anything. He/she keeps pushing the wall, trying to make it upright with all her/his energy until it finally falls off on the partner’s side. Yes, it is because she was doing it single-handedly. Love is a two-way thing. He pushes She pushes. You both need to work hard to actually make it work. Yet you are here struggling so hard to make someone at least notice your sacrifices but they just never see it. This is when love becomes toxic. Because it ruins, it destroys, it makes someone lose themselves as they seek someone else. If they are not your spouse then it is definitely not worth it. Prior marriage love is most of the times either just lust or a fantasy.

When you see an old couple still finding comfort and warmth from each other then do know that they have fought battles and moved mountains to get them where they are. It takes a lot of energy, honesty, humbleness, appreciation, patience, upright manners to make two people go back to passion just when they were about to go to routine phase. Perhaps this is why you should really respect the humble beginnings of your parents too if they are still together. It is not easy to over look so many flaws from a person and still love them deeply and sincerely. So yes, true love does exist. But only at the right time and of course, with the right person.

If you are in any such fantasy about love then you need to wake up. You need to understand that love is not what you imagine at 18, that life has so many surprises yet to come. You need to understand there is something called fate, that it is okay even if it is the 21st Century, to be single. And when you are principled and attached to God then things couldn’t get any better for you. You need to know that you have to really really REALLY love yourself first before anything else. And most importantly you need and must understand that love is definitely not the purpose of our lives.

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DOCTOR; BY HEART OR BY THE POCKET?

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I always wanted to be a doctor, a pediatrician to be precise. That was my childhood dream and I grew up admiring the white coat and the stethoscope on the neck. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to make a difference in children’s lives. But isn’t that what many, if not all of us, grew up dreaming of?

We grew up being fed with the information that being a doctor is being a hero. Being a star more than superman or spiderman. It meant changing the world. We grew up watching series like ER, Grey’s anatomy, Scrubs, The mob doctors, House…and the list is endless… and we knew for sure this is it. This is what I want to become. Well, for me, that was before reality hit me hard and I hard to divorce the science and math world. Even so, I never really stop feeling nostalgic of my childhood dream. I would have had fun playing around with crying babies in the hospital oh without forgetting singing and dancing nursery rhymes lol is that even real? Whom am I kidding? ?

Going back to history when we didn’t have all these pills, machines and vaccines, even then, the herbalists were highly regarded. They were close to the king’s status. They were honoured and considered noble. Therefore it is no big surprise that more than 50% of the parents in the world want their children to be doctors. Doesn’t matter if it is a surgeon, a cardiologist, neurologist, psychiatrist, pharmacist, dermatologist, radiologist, dentist…you name it. So long as we have the ‘st’ at the end of the word then we good to go right?

We will all agree that the job done by doctors is a sacrifice that very few can actually take up to. Working over 24 hours, lacking sleep, operating for almost an entire day, dozing on the benches, missing out A LOT on family events and hanging out with friends…The course itself is too tiresome and going over a long period of time. It takes a lot of hard work, passion, dedication, energy, oh and college money to actually work it through. Perhaps this is exactly why they really deserve to be our heroes. But then the course of things in the medicine world started changing when doctors shifted their focus from the heart to the pocket. Doctors; is it by soul or by the money? This is where we got it all wrong. When our heroes valued the money more than humanity.

I usually wonder sometimes when I see very poor people getting really sick, I wonder, how do they get through to get their medication? Of course God doesn’t neglect anyone. He always brings ways for us during our hard times but apart from that, how do they survive? I mean, seeing a specialist of any kind let’s say neurologist or cardiologist costs one almost four thousand, five thousand, for just an appointment with the doctor. Just to look at his face and hear his golden words. No, don’t get me wrong. Yes, these doctors very well deserve it. It is their hard work. It is their hard earned money but this disqualifies them from being our heroes any longer. And this is how poor people die miserably in their homes because have you ever thought what this four/five…ten thousand is for them? That could be their entire salary. That could be the food plus school fees plus rent plus water for the whole month. That could be a fortune for them. And then that is not all. After that you tell this same person in a something that looks like a clothe because it can’t even be regarded as a clothe. It is similar but it is not. It is rags, they are in torn shoes and have rough sore hands. You tell this same person to make almost four tests which would cost them maybe another two thousand without forgetting the medication that would also cost them another fortune. What are you tying to tell them? Go away? Because of course you are chasing them away with your prices. You are indirectly telling them ‘you deserve to die miserably because you can’t afford to see me’. It is telling them ‘this is not your place to be’.

This is how we see poor souls crowding in Coast general and many other public hospitals desperately trying to get help. Anxiously waiting for the time when doctors would leave their private hospitals to come have a peep at them in the public hospitals. This is how nurses treat them like ‘you ain’t gonna tell me nothing. You are just here by our mercy’and treat them worse than the street dogs. They still come though. What should they do? This is the only place they can find a little bit of humanity left. So they wake up while the world is still dark and quiet, rush to the hospital to be the first in line and then wait and wait and wait for hours before the honourable doctor walks in to serve them. You see the fatigue, the helplessness, the anxiousness, the sickness on their faces all at once. What happened to our heroes?

But I will tell you this, although many doctors became what they became so as to acquire their current bank balance, there are some who continue being legends of our times. There are some who have put humanity at the front before money.

There is a doctor in our neighbourhood who is so kind; so humane that you would just be amazed by his nature. He works with his wife in their private clinic and over the years I saw this doctor not charging a shilling to patients whom he wasn’t able to establish their illnesses. He doesn’t charge the patients before but after. If he couldn’t assist you or if he just asked you to do a few tests he doesn’t charge you for talking to him.
I have seen him treating poor people several times free of charge. He sometimes even gives the medicines free of charge. He treats others on credit when they request so. I have seen him showing utmost kindness to his patients and I swear I am a witness to how much he and his wife prospered over the years. They opened their own maternity clinic which also keeps expanding with time. I have seen how God blessed him and his family. And it makes me think, if we just had a few more private doctors who served their communities whole-heartedly and with humbleness, how then would we have over crowded public hospitals with desperate patients crying their souls out for the pain? I am not saying the government is not to blame for not establishing more and proper medical institutions for the less advantaged communities but let’s accept it; we can always do better when we stand for humanity; when we support and help each other.

If you are a doctor and reading this, this is a challenge for you. Are you really the hero you claimed to be? Are you satisfied and proud by how you have held that title of a ‘doctor’? Are you a doctor by the soul or by the pocket??

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THE NAIROBI EXPERIENCE AND BAKE AWARDS

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Photo Courtesy: Bloggers Association of Kenya

You know the expression people give you when you say you haven’t been to Nairobi? ?? ‘Like are you for real? Who doesn’t go to Nairobi?’ They make it seem like you haven’t gone for the life-changing pilgrimage. They never even react like that when you say you never go to church or the mosque. So this time round I went, for the first time, to Nairobi. Well I once passed by as transit to Nakuru for a journalism competition but that was it.

Going to Nairobi for a paranoid person is not all that a fun trip. In my entire journey I thought of how I should have perhaps carried my ‘war kit’…you know, just in case, especially with all these scary theories about Nairobi and it’s residents. I should have carried a dagger, a knife, a poisonous spray, rat poison and a rope just in case I meet one of the robbers or psychopathetics. I would first spray into his eyes, followed by stabbing with the dagger, forcing the rat poison down his throat, hang him if all that doesn’t work then finally cut him down into into pretty pieces of what could make a delicious meal for the cats back home. This would be my souvenir from Nairobi because getting the BAKE trophy seems quite impossible at this stage. Having Biko and Magunga as fellow competitors is like jogging like Mr Bean then go on a race with Usain Bolt and David Rudisha. So perhaps having some fresh meat would at least make a few fellas happy in my neighbourhood. Okay people, relax, i’m no murderer. Just precautionary measures you know ?

On alighting at Nairobi; River road, all I could see are these very many people moving across back and forth in very quick steps. As I walked fast, I just realized that the place was rather scary. I mean, when was the last time I saw such large numbers of people in the streets of Mombasa? Perhaps it was during a charity walk or a political rally? Where do all these people come from anyway? It’s like God dropped a handful of people on the land of Nairobi and said ‘Go!’ then the crowd spread about like tiny termites each on their own agenda. Everyone busy. Everyone in a hurry. Later on I went to the loo of a certain mall and even there, the place was crowded. Too much chaos. In Mombasa you could go to a loo and dance in front of the mirror, record an entire song, apply make up and still no one appears to interrupt your peace ?

As I walked around town I kept greeting people then I just turned to my cousin, “oh I forgot…people don’t say hi here right?” What a life. I was totally confused which street is OK to receive phone calls and which taxi driver could take you safely to your destination without kidnapping you. I barely trust the tuktuks in Mombasa so what about taxis here?! And these people earn money wah! And that is without mentioning that there is no ‘near’place. No walking distance. Oh God bless Mombasa for it’s easy life?

I had heard of the pretty cold weather of Nairobi but when I arrived it was almost like Mombasa cold days. No big deal really. So I sarcastically started questioning ‘sasa hii ndiyo baridi nnayoskia?!’ (now is this the cold I hear of?!’ Going to bed, I wore a very light dress and a sweater then just as it became darker I started feeling the cold in my veins. I started shivering. Like literally shaking. Like what we used to write in our inshas ‘nilitetemeka tem tem falau ya kifaranga katika baridi ya kipupwe’ Is the saying like this? Lol. I don’t remember anymore. The house girl had her rib cracking laughter looking at me shiver at the middle of the bed, seated, unable to stretch my hands to my bag beside the bed to get something else to wear on top. Or perhaps that was panic and anticipation for the next day’s event? Maybe. Maybe not. The next day I decided that I had learnt my lesson and wore pretty heavy and that was the day the sun was shining like no other. That was Nairobi weather for me ?

I’ve never really been an event/party person. People means chaos for me. It means dressing up for the occasion. It means calculating how to respond when men give you their hands to shake. It means turning into an extrovert overnight. It means ladies looking at you and wondering why you didn’t put on make up. Oh and some ask you by the way ? It’s like a body feature is missing. Okay thanks to mum for ensuring I wore a cinderella dress that she made herself with so much love. Well of course she also made sure to get me heels lest I wore sneakers to the event. Trust me I would have but by then, I would be dead ? Well fortunately, most men nowadays know about the issue of shaking hands and Muslim ladies so they just smile and respect that. It gets pretty awkward sometimes but well, they are learning ?

Just when I got to Radisson Blu hotel, I was welcomed by the ushers who were in ‘sare’. What is sare in English by the way? Similar outfits will do I guess ? I went all alone, sat alone at the back, hoping no one tries talking to me. But then I decided to find out where my fellow Mombasian competitor was and joined the family somewhere in the middle. I still sat alone. To avoid awkward conversations like:
“So are you a nominee?”
“Yes..
“Which one?”
“Strokes of my pen? Lubnah?”
“Oh no I’ve never heard of that. Which is that? Is it a travel blog?”
“Lol. It’s creative writing.”
“Oh the one when mentioned no one cheered?” ?
“Yeah. That same one.”
“Oh you mean with kina Biko!”
“Yes. Biko.”
They say you are not a blogger until you know Biko. Oh man he deserves it really. So now that has become my biggest weapon to get the masters to talk to me. After the event I went round talking to a few people here and there plus James of BAKE made sure I met people I should know as a writer. And whenever I mentioned my blog no one knew of it. They heard it first time at the event. But then just when I mentioned that I was in creative writing category with ‘akina Biko’ I could see how suddenly people’s eyes grew bigger and were looking at me with keener interest. I recollected all my courage and spoke like am about to drop a grenade of wisdom. Oh well, with the masters, you must show them that you are worth listening to.

And you know the worst part of it is that Biko himself never showed up. How does someone win two awards and not show up? This guy is such a man and a half. Like a boss. Such style lol. Hehe that is how good writers can use suspense and be mysterious in such a cool way. Had he come, I would perhaps have shared my plate with him and thanked him for ‘allowing’ me to use his name to create my own ? But then I met Magunga which is also a great gain. The masters of writing and art. I just hope I meet Wanja Kavengi soon. I want to thank her for making me laugh whenever I read her posts ??

Well honestly this a great experience for me alhamdulilah. I just wished we had more Coastal nominees and Muslims as well. From the attendants I just saw around 5 Muslims and from the Coast. Where are all the rest whom I keep reading their work and marvel at their greatness??! I just hope next year we have not less than 10 Muslim and/or Coasterians being nominated. We have all it takes and all that is needed. We just have to stop sleeping on our talents. So if you got your blog filled with internet cobwebs and dust please clean it up and start afresh. If I could get there I don’t see why anyone else can’t. So best wishes to all the upcoming writers. Congratulations to all the BAKE winners and nominees and thanks again to all those who voted for me, those who read my blog, those who believe in me and inspire me to keep inspiring. Let’s meet next year in shaa Allah!

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CONCEAL; DON’T FEEL!

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Photo Courtesy: Unknown

“Conceal
Don’t feel.
Don’t let them know.”
~Frozen

When a boy notices his tendency to cry a lot or even be more emotional than expected then this is when Anna’s words become a consolation. You feel you are not alone in this; not alone in the hiding and burying. Not alone in the turning away from the inner you, the real you that wants to scream, that wants to cry, that wants to break down, that needs a hug or at least a pat on the shoulder. So you shut the doors and put a pillow on your face so that no one hears you silent cries. You lock yourself in loo and cry until you have no more tear for anyone to see or simply go mute on everyone. No one should know. You have to hide or else everyone will raise their eyebrows at you, “dude are you normal?”
“Are you straight?”?

The girls are usually the victims of this but for the few boys who are characterized as ‘sensitive’ then they definitely have a hard time.

As boys grow up they keep hearing it over and over again, ‘real men don’t cry’, ‘man up’ ‘be strong’ ‘be like a soldier or a lion…’ ‘Are you a girl to be a cry baby?’ But anyway who brought up this notion? This foolish theory that when a man cries he isn’t ‘real’ anymore? What does ‘real’ mean anyway? Does it mean that the boys who cry a lot or show their emotions have any less of the y chromosomes or perhaps they should freak out and see a psychologist whether they may be turning gay?? ?

I say it is foolish because I believe in a person who feels. It means they have extra ordinary power to connect with others. It means they love others honestly. It means they are strong enough to respect their inner self that is wounded. It means they are simply not allowing their ego to overtake their soul. It means that despite all the tears and feels, they are strong enough to admit that they are in pain and that pain needs to be let out. It means that although everyone expects them to be fierce and hard so as to be recognized as ‘strong’, they decided to have their own definition of ‘strong’. It means they are humane and feel for others. It means they are special.

Yes, they are definitely special. These cry babies are the ones who will make the best of husbands and fathers. As much as some women may argue that emotional men can’t protect them and would probably cry with them during tough situations instead of acting immediately, do remember that the Y chromosome in him still exists. He will protect you more than the man with an ego would ever do. He will protect you because he is true to you; because he won’t ever want you to get hurt especially because of him.
And hey man, if a woman ever mocks you over your emotional make-up then she is simply not worth it. If it is family or even friends then just over-look the criticisms. Sometimes you just need to ignore what people think about you.

These men you call cry babies are ones who will restore humanity whenever, simply because they feel extra ordinarily and with deep empathy for others. They are the ones who keep touching hearts and inspiring people. So if you one of them, please feel free to cry and break down and feel extensively. If the inner self is wounded and needs to bleed then please bleed if you need to. Don’t let your ego destroy your beautiful soul. Your tears are your power so use that power to make a difference. Do know that the best of mankind (men) were seen in tears and were known for their empathy and deep emotions. So never feel ashamed over who you are. Your soul is simply amazing and that; that should really make you proud 🙂

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DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS

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Featured photo courtesy: http://im3.peldata.com/

Make sure to watch the video and meet the director of operations before reading the note below…

This video really moved mountains in me. It didn’t really have anything new that hasn’t been said, but it carries so much weight and I just felt my heart melt at it. How many times do we really really underestimate the work and sacrifices done by the director of operations? How many times have we acted like it is her duty to do what she does yet it is simply her lovely heart that makes her be a super woman just for our sake?

Let’s appreciate HER EVERYDAY, EVERY YEAR, EVERY MOMENT and not just on one particular day. Not just on her birthday, or mother’s day or during festive season. She deserves much much more than one day appreciation right?!

If you still have this lovely woman in your life then give her a call and tell her how much you love her. If she is next to you then give her a big hug. If she is gone then make a prayer for her. She deserves worth more than a post in social media that she will never see. She deserves worth more than the selfie you took with her just to show the world. She deserves your honest love, care and respect. Remember, so many people wish they could have their mothers with them right this moment so make use of this golden opportunity that you have.

#This is indeed the world’s toughest job!! #May God bless all the women who hold the title ‘mother’
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