I guess I should change my alarms ring of you singing ‘good morning sunshine!!’ Because now that you’re gone, I’m not sunshine anymore and the mornings ain’t that great.

I have to trash the calendar now too. Because the huge circle on 15th kills me every time now that there’s no more anniversary.

Damn, I should also change this darn voice mail because now there’s no more…..”We’re too busy loving. We can’t answer the phone.”

I can’t cook pancakes anymore because every time I do, I remember how you’d come, hug me from behind, taste the batter then kiss me and whisper into my ear; “I knew it was missing something.” “You.” And I can’t hold back the tears.

The sunrise is not as beautiful as it was anymore. I hate it now. Because all I see when the rays hit me is how beautiful your eyes were in the morning sun. Your big brown eyes would turn just a shade of bright hazel and I was hooked to them. Glaring at them. Those two never ending pools. Now I can’t anymore.

Atleast my white T-shirts stay clean nowadays because you always found a way to mess them up. Rambling on about how you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. And that one time you spilled coffee on it. And you got so nervous that I’d be mad and I hugged you and said, “I still love you, you silly klutz “. And you smiled. I now wish I could have taken that picture. Because that was one beautiful smile. Boy that smile. Could bring out the sun on a cloudy day.

I have no one to take the blanket from now. You complained every single time I did it but as you did you’d snake your hands round my waist and pull me closer to you. And I loved it. Complain all you want boy. I’d give anything to have those arms wrapped around me again. They were my favourite place. Always so warm. I mean screw that blanket.

I can’t make fun of other couples anymore. I can’t laugh at them eating groundnuts and be like, “He courted her with groundnuts??? Who does that? And she fell for it? What’s wrong with her?? Women these days!!!”. And I’d get so bitter and go feminist and you’d laugh your head off, which would lead to endless snorts and I would start laughing at how funny your laughter is and we would all end up on the ground laughing as though our lives depended on it.

I miss that. So bad.

I still keep expecting someone to come snatch up my book while I’m reading it. You got so irritated when I didn’t give you attention. And I’d get so pissed that you were disrupting me. So you’d throw some corny line like, ” Babe if I were a story teller, honey you’d be the story I’d never tell, because I can’t stand sharing you to the whole world. Because your mine. Mine to write, mine to read and mine to keep.” And I would turn beet red and you’d be so elated and keep boasting about how good your lines are. And I would have a comeback at the tip of my tongue to trim back your ego. And boy was I good.

Aaaaah…. I miss that. I miss you.

But all these remain just but memories. Etched in my brain. Keeping my loneself sane. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and my heart grows fonder every minute you’re not here.

I’ll get through this. Maybe if I keep feeding my heart that lie, it might actually believe it.

Dear you…

Heeey!! I know long time😅sorry… I’m trying something new this time.. Really hope you like it. So here goes nothing. 😅

To whomever it may concern.

Future boyfriend, fiancee, husband😊

By the time you’re my boyfriend trust me I’ll be head over heels in love with you. Because I’m that typical cliche. A hopeless romantic with some cliche romance fantasy in my head. Probably because I’ve read too many romance novels with too much cliche in them. But trust me I won’t settle for less.

And that’s the problem.

You’ll be perfect and I wouldn’t want to loose you. I’m the kind to think too much into stuff. I tend to over think things… Sorry, I can’t stop. So I might distance myself from you at times because I don’t want to come off as too clingy. I might get jealous seeing you with some other girl and hang around you alot and that might come off as too clingy. I’m sorry. I might get a text from you and look at it but not bother to open it or reply so you don’t think you’re the only good thing going on in my life when actually you’re the best thing happening in my life. I might text you so much it gets irritating so you know you’re the best thing happening in my life. I’m sorry.

Its not that I don’t love you. I do. Like hell I do. But the unerasable image of him and her in my bed… Not his , not hers… My bed. It hurts so bad. Its not that I don’t think about you. I do. Every goddamn time. All time any time. But the memory of my sister in the ICU after an overdose of heroine after that bastard left her broken puts me at bay. Its not that I don’t value you. Damn I do. God knows I do. More than life itself. But the raw cuts on my best friend’s wrists and the pool of blood left on her lush pink carpet is a sight I don’t think I can get over anytime soon. All for a son of a bitch who wouldn’t even fight off a dog for her.

But I do love you…. I swear I do.

But love hurts. It hurts like hell.

But honey don’t blame yourself. I always expect the worst cause I always get the worst.

I’m sorry I’ll never believe you when you look into my eyes and tell me that I’m beautiful. I’m sorry that I think that I will never be good enough for you. I’m sorry that I will not believe you when you say you love me. Even when you say it. Even when you say it with that fiery passion and earnest desire.

But I’m afraid.

Afraid that my already broken heart will be crushed again and this time I won’t be able to handle it.

Its not that I don’t love you. Its that I love you so much it hurts.

And that’s the problem.


Philomena Kendi.

He’s gay???

Let me clarify this first. I believe everyone is entitled to their own decisions and choices in life. I’m not against anything or anyone.

“What do you mean he’s gay???” Boy, am I a great actor or what.

“No way!! It can’t be!! You are texting his gay partner??” I fake a gasp and hold my heart. I really deserve a Grammy for this.

“Wow!! I’m gobs smacked!!”… No I’m not. But he doesn’t need to know that.

I zone out as my cousin Isaac continues his rant about how disgusted he is in his brother. He goes on about what a shame he is and how his dad will kill him if he found out. Good thing he didn’t have the guts to talk to him. That man was something else… Shudder.

I really tried to put on a surprised face when he told me that his brother was gay. Really. And by the contented smirk plastered on Isaac’s face…. He bought it.

Am actually surprised that he figured it out 4 years later. I mean they are brothers for crying out loud. They have lived under the same roof since conception!!

I can’t blame him though. Isaac and his brother Ben (the gay one) have been at logger heads for as long as I can remember. Yes they can join forces and annoy the hell out of someone but that’s pretty much it.

My mind kept drifting off. I replayed Ben’s confession in my head. The real reason as to why he turned gay in the first place.

Ben wasn’t a misfit. Ben didn’t have any problem fitting in. I mean Ben was the most social person I have ever met. He didn’t lack in the friends department at all. He had a lot of charisma. That guy could talk you into anything. I’ve had a good share of grounding because of him talking me into crazy ideas.

Sadly, Ben wasn’t one with physical strength. He couldn’t do any heavy lifting, he couldn’t run for miles like other boys or do some crazy gymnastics… No, Ben couldn’t. Well this was too bad as physical strength was one of a man’s qualities in my community. You were literally not considered a man if you couldn’t do hard labour. Unfortunately for him he fell in this category. His charm, charisma and wit covered for him though. Well at least until he finished class eight currently eighth grade. This just before joining high school.

This period in Kenya is the time when most boys undergo their rite of passage. That is; circumcision. Other communities circumcise boys at a much younger age. This rite indicates transition from childhood to adulthood. Here is where they were to prove they were truly men by withstanding the cut without even a whimper.

Ben cried.

The one thing he was not supposed to do. He cried so much. He cried saying he was in so much pain. The many kids out there started laughing and mocking him. He only cried the more. The men there sniggered and yelled at him to be a man. He only cried the more. Then the situation got a whole lot more worse. His father was called.

Ben’s father was called.

Ben’s father was a man not to mess with. He tough, stern and brutal. His deep, raspy voice was enough to send shivers down your spine. He had a stoic glare. So immense, it was as though he could see through your soul.

Well he came. All I know is that Ben had been sporting a nasty black eye for weeks since that day. At this point Ben had lost many of his friends. Most of them were the ones who ridiculed him. No one wanted to be associated with the cry baby, the coward.

Fortunately, he passed his exams so well and was called to one of the best schools in the country. Ben was overjoyed. Not because the school was among the best in the country. This high school was a chance to him. A chance at redemption. He would get new friends and his little accident would be a thing of the past. Everything would be back to normal!!

He was sadly mistaken.

Ben was taken to school, admitted and eventually shown to his new home for the next 4 years since it was a boarding school.

As Ben was making his bed, someone shoved him and growled. Literally.

“What do you think you are doing??” Barked the voice.

“M-mm-making my bed… “He stutters. He turns and almost chokes as he views the bulk of a man standing there.

“One last time, what do you think you are doing??”

His throat went dry. His mouth failed him and he couldn’t form any words. The next thing he knew blows and kicks were raining on him. He passed out.

He came to at the very same spot. Apparently no one had bothered with him. The big guy was still there. “If your pathetic self is still here in the next 5 seconds. You are a dead man.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Even in his state, he registered the words in a flash and quickly scampered off.

Apparently, Ben had mistook the seniors dorms for his dorm and had unfortunately settled for the school bully’s bed.

This was just but the first of the bullying. So much worse came after. He was weak so he was defenceless. Even his wits and charisma didn’t help him out. He begged his parents to switch schools but it was all a futile attempt. His pleas fell in deaf ears. He quit after several threats from his father. He didn’t care. He just told him to be a man. Be a man Ben.

It was at this point that Ben met Kenny. Kenny was so nice. He just wanted to be his friend or so he said. Fortunately for Ben, he was a senior. A very popular one for that matter. Soon the bullying stopped. All of it. Ben had never been happier.

Kenny on the other hand had other plans in mind. He introduced Ben to the world of homosexuality. Ben was wierded out but he had no alternative. Kenny had helped him out. It was the least he could do. If he didn’t the bullying would be back. No, not again. Soon this became a norm. It was part of him. He couldn’t change, he couldn’t stop.

And that sadly is how my cousin Ben became gay. Not out of will but due to lack of choice. I almost cried as he told me that. Scratch that. I cried, so much. He kept begging me not to tell his dad. I wouldn’t dare. That man would kill me before proceeding to his son.

Isaac was still blabbering. Its amazing how people jump into conclusions and go ahead to judge others without knowing the story behind.

Ben is still his charismatic self. But still living in fear of his secret coming out. Not only is he afraid of his father but also of the society. In my community homosexuality is rare if not non existent. If word happens to come out. He’s a goner.


Philomena Kendi.

*Names have been changed*

The mystery blogger awards

Hey there!!!

If I say I’m elated right now, that would be the understatement of the year.

I’m pretty overwhelmed… Nope, not the word am looking for. I literally have no words to explain how ecstatic I am right now.

I have just been nominated to the mystery blogger awards!!! I’ve been blogging for what.. 2 weeks?? 3 weeks??

I’m really grateful for the nomination and can’t wait to participate and nominate other bloggers I admire.

I was nominated by a writer I really admire and whose blogs I enjoy very much. Raggaza Triste I really enjoy her work and hope you too will check it out. She is definitely among the writers I look up to.

Here are some of the questions I was asked. I really enjoyed answering them.

1. Which film best describes your life?

Avengers!! Coz my life is cool like that😁… Hehe… I wish

I think I’d say, before I fall. There’s a lot of transition I’ve undergone since I was a kid till now… So many events in life have changed me. My teen years have been a roller coaster ride and right now I’m at the very top. Now, I tend to see only the good in people even those who are really mean to me. Many have taken advantage of this but, oh well, goodness doesn’t cost me a cent. So yeah, that’s pretty much it.

2.Which pets do you prefer? Cats? Dogs? Reptiles?

What?? Reptiles?? No way!! I like cats… Definitely cats… They’re all cute and cuddly…I mean who doesn’t like cats!!!

3.Why did you decide to write?

I’ve always loved reading even as a child. So writing just came to me. I remember the first essay I wrote back in fourth grade was so good the teacher read it in front of the whole class. Since I had and have always been the quiet kid everyone was like “what!! That girl??” Hehe… I was so happy.

4.What do you want to achieve as a writer??

Not much really. I just want my writing to touch peoples hearts. To serve as an inspiration.

5.What are your pet peeves?

Aaargh… They are so many!!

Slow walkers, crying babies.. Call me mean but I just can’t stand baby wails, line cutters… Seriously just wait your turn! And finally, loud gum chewers… Help me God.

6. If this world will end now what are your last words?

Oh boy….. Hehe.

I tried, really.

Well here are my nominees. These bloggers have really good works and I admire them very much.


Well, here are the rules!!!

1. Put the award logo image in your blog.

2. List the rules

3.Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.

4. Answer the questions you were asked.

5. Nominate 5-10 people and notify.

6.Ask your nominees any five questions of your choice and one weird or funny specify..

Here are my questions. I hope you do enjoy answering them😊

1. Describe the experience of writing in 3 words.

2. How would you tackle a writers block?

3.Which movie character and in what movie do you think perfectly features you?

4. Why writing?

5. Which do you prefer.. Kids or pets??

6.Your partner just broke up with you. Tomorrow you seem him or her all over someone else. Speak your mind. 😉

Well that’s it people…. Have fun and keep writing!!

Saddening myths and misconceptions that once were…..

I wish I could say my grandmother told me this story but sadly that is not the case….

I unfortunately do not have the privileged of being told stories by my grandmother. She barely understands kiswahili let alone speak it. And English? Let’s just say its pretty much non existent for her.

But luckily my mum understands her and so she got to hear this story from her and told it to us.

This is a story that left me tongue tied and in a daze.

This is the story.

In my country Kenya, our community, that is the meru community, used to have these many myths and misconceptions they used to believe in.

Sadly most of them were unrealistic, detestable and downright inhumane. This is unfortunately one of them.

My tribe used to believe that once a mother died during child bearing, the baby born was cursed and therefore measures had to be taken to keep the community at peace with their gods by not harbouring a cursed child.

My great grandmother was pregnant many many years ago. She had proudly sired 10 children. Seven boys and three girls. But this birth had complications right from the start.

She had been sickly all through and was weak most of the time. She was relieved of her duties as the family assumed it was just the pregnancy that was making her tired but this was not normal as she had gone through the same ten times without even a glint of a problem.

My great grandfather thought this unusual but put it off claiming it was just pregnancy jitters and she would be okay but sadly this wasn’t the case. Her condition grew worse each passing day and finally the day to deliver the long awaited baby came.

This came as a huge relief for everybody since they thought after the pregnancy she would be back to her normal self. Well they were in for a rude shock.

During the delivery, there was so much complications. My great grandmother lost a lot of blood and eventually due to this lost her life. But not after giving birth to a beautiful bouncing baby girl. No one saw this though. All they saw was a curse. A curse that had taken away a life from them. A curse that had to be dealt with accordingly.

On the other hand my grandmother was so excited to have a baby sister as all her sisters were older and barely paid her any attention. A baby sister would just be perfect. She was sadly mistaken as her joy was to be very short lived.

At this point she had no idea of her mother’s demise otherwise she wouldn’t have been so happy as she had loved her mother so much. Well apparently in the olden days in my community, children weren’t informed of the deaths of their loved ones. They were just left to put two and two together when they grow older.

Another fact about the meru community was that in the past they didn’t bury the dead. They put the bodies a little bit far off from the homestead and hyenas would come take the body and go eat it up and not leave even a trace.

Despite the desperate pleas of my grandmother, the baby as young, innocent and healthy as she was had to be gotten rid of. Moreover the ‘njuri ncheke’ the elders in the meru community had already made their verdict and the baby had to go.

My great grandfather being the cultured man he was and mostly due to the grief of loosing a beloved spouse made sure nothing was interfered with and everything went according to plan.

So the child and its dead mother were taken outside one evening and left at the mercy of hyenas which were rampant at that time.

Well the child cried all night but nothing could be done. It was cursed. The child was hungry, unclothed and cold. And so you know this was in the nyambene forest found on the slopes of mount Kenya so think of how cold it was and the child was unclothed.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t know, the hyenas didn’t show up which was unusual considering the child’s wails.

So the next day the child was still outside crying. All people could do was just cast a sympathetic glance and shake their heads after all the child was cursed.

This was the norm for three days. But as night approached the baby went quiet, I guess she had depleted all its energy or worse. Anyway that was the last night they heard or saw the child but they did hear the laughs of a pack of hyenas in the far off distance. The curse was gone. She could have already been dead even before the hyenas came but all in all her fate was being gnashed by the teeth of a hungry hyena.

An innocent life yet again claimed by another myth and another misconception. And this was to be the fate of many more for a long time.


Philomena Kendi.