Bottles.

I’m writing this because I want to cry.

But in the morning I ran into a car full of chocolate drops looking finer than rich wine on their way to wedding and they left me smiling all the way up to my desk

So I’m really just having a day that’s bi-polar like that.

Its been three weeks since my world shattered and although now I can eat and sleep through a solid 6 hrs, I still feel deeply shaken.

It still feels like heaviness.

It still feels like I am literally at point zero and everyone is ten decades ahead of me and I have to constantly remind myself that everything takes time.

The journey is hard.

The journey is painful.

The journey feels like a block of lead weighing on my heart that keeps my smile from fully reaching my eyes.

The journey is lonely.

The journey has me filled with so much self doubt I seem to have forgotten that black girl magic I try to embody.

The journey is the most uncomfortable thing in the world.

And yet what keeps me sane is that unshakeable belief I have deep down that at the end of it all is a blessing so big I cant even picture it.

What keeps me sane, even in the midst of the cloudy days and the sleepless nights and the anger and the questions and the envy is that there is a reason for this pain so I hang in there knowing God is not done with me yet.

So if you are reading this and you are going through something that has shaken the roots of your being, remember this- God is not through with yet.

The pain is for a season.

And you are worthy.

You deserve happiness.

In fact you don’t deserve it, you are happiness itself.

You are needed.

You are loved.

You are phenomenal.

You are still worthy of a phenomenal type of love.

You are broken but not irreparable.

You are beautiful both inside and out.

You are a work in progress-

A glorious, gorgeous work in progress.

And most importantly, God is not through with yet.

I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottles
I make mistakes but learn from every one
And when it’s said and done, I bet this brother be a better one
If I upset you, don’t stress
Never forget that God isn’t finished with me yet
I feel His hand on my brain
When I write rhymes I go blind and let the Lord do his thang

Ghetto Gospel- Tupac

 

Reminders. Affirmations.

You will form new friendships.

You will get a front row seat into the lives of the most amazing people.

You will find people who care about you. Deeply.

You will find people who adore you.

You will find people to love.

You have people to love.

You will love.

You will find people unafraid to call you out on your bullshit.

You will grow the courage to speak up and correct with love.

You will keep learning how to be a better person.

You will be a better person.

Your tummy wont always ache.

You will sleep peacefully without your thoughts waking you up every hour.

You will have fun.

You will find people to take you out to have fun.

You will learn to have just as much fun by yourself.

You will make a tonne of amazing memories.

You will go to the most amazing of places.

You will win.

You will feel amazing.

You are amazing.

And you will still make it to the next phases of your life.

You will be okay making it to the next phases of your life without needing to hold on to anything. Or anyone.

You are happy.

You will still be happy.

You are okay.

You are.

You do not owe anyone an apology.

You do not owe anyone an explanation.

You. Do. Not. Owe. Anyone. An. Explanation.

You do not need anyone’s validation.

You can do this life thing.

Keep living.

By Kemunto.

17/11/2017

 

Tribe

Maybe writer’s block happened when I became too afraid of sharing my truth.

Because the older I get the harder it gets to be open about it.

And what in actual sense I am willing to share are the pretty truths.

I have a blog where I share this by the way. It’s called Messed Up Too. In there, I share my interpretation of pretty truths. The kind of stuff to be shared at 2 am in a circle when a bottle is being passed around. The kind of truths that a lot of people will laugh at. Pretty truths are the ones which we can trade freely with others because in actual sense they are not bad.

Pretty truths are stories about ex-boyfriends that will immediately attract unanimous chants of men are trash or been there done that sis. Pretty truths are truths about body insecurities because surely who doesn’t have them in twenty-effin-seventeen. Those ones are pretty because again, when shared over a glass of anything above 40%, they would probably be met with responses of how beautiful and flawsome you are.

But when it comes down to the deep dark shit.

Sharing becomes hard because it’s not every day you deal with situations where someone lays down themselves and are met with the right words.

Sometimes I want to share that truth. My ugly truth.

But it gets hard. Because the ugly truth is hard enough for me to face, I find it so hard to imagine getting to face it through the eyes of others.

But I’m on demon-fighting mode tonight. So let’s deal.

Turning twenty four has been fucking hard.

It has been overwhelming. I have grappled with so many things. Most of them trivial- things I know shouldn’t lose sleep over that somehow still keep me up at night. Some of them have to do with my environment- political uncertainty is taking a toll on me.

I’m also struggling with  adult shit like my Masters. Not the course work but the real essence of this degree. I have no idea where the hell I will start with my thesis and as I type this I have about 10 days to submit my proposal and I do not even know how to start. I struggle with this because I feel like this will shape the next year of my life. I struggle with this because I have this fear of failing. And I am scared because my choice of topic will determine if I will be drowning happily or in misery. Three semesters dedicated to one topic. Over 500,000 Kshs in fees is at stake if I mess it up by messing one simple step- choosing the wrong topic. That is a burden. Whose genesis stems from the unending existential crisis I have been having for the past few months.

Am I doing the right thing?

Am I in the right career?

Will I succeed at this?

Sheryl Sandberg calls it the Imposter Syndrome. She could have been talking about me except I feel she referred to women doing what they were called to. And that’s where we differ because I go through countless emotional breakdowns reminding myself that this path was crafted divinely for me.

But that I can deal with. Somehow.

With everything going on, in the midst of trying to deal, I realised that maybe my need is something deeper.

When there is a crisis within then there comes a need for people outside to be the voice of encouragement begging me to push on because I got this and more than ever I miss people.

I miss my people.

Except I am not sure who they are.

It’s like a longing for belonging..

This feeling that I belong to this cluster of people who feel perfect and who the role I play in their lives is so finite and so irreplaceable that without me the circle feels incomplete.

I long for  refreshing sisterhoods.

I long for familyhood.

But the kind that I am not born into by default but one created out of a mutual desire to complement the best in each other and to see the best in each other.

For me, it boils down I guess to my flight instinct. I am not the best at relationships. I hide flaws. I over-complement. And if I am to be honest here, I have never been the one to check others. And on the surface, I thought that was okay for the longest time because my policy in life is always to dwell on the positive rather than the negative.

But then masks fall off. Scratch that. The masks have been down right shattering before my eyes these last few months and there is nothing worse than drowning and realising that the force behind catching you is not as strong as you thought it was.

If ever there was a time when I needed someone who could check me its now.

Because that’s what your tribe does.

The tribe acknowledges the bullshit but helps you deal.

The tribe pumps you up and adorns you with flowers when you are having trouble remembering how to bloom.

And when you heal, the tribe is where your best self is offered selflessly not to gain favour but because they bring out the purest elements of your soul where you can commit wholeheartedly to helping others shine.

The tribe is who shows up first to witness every high and low.

The tribe is who remains when everyone else leaves.

The tribe helps you clean up.

The tribe helps you re-live the best moments of it all.

But there is nothing as hard as trying to re-build the tribe when everyone seems to be busy building themselves.

And that is also where growing up sucks.

Paying bills can be dealt with.

Bosses can be dealt with.

Family issues can be dealt with.

But forming life long friendships when there is barely any time to even adult properly that is fucking hard.

And also people are forever in motion. Going somewhere. Looking. Shifting.

Colleagues change jobs.

Classmates graduate.

Neighbours move.

And its hard to find people whose role in your life remains unmoved when everyone seems to be is on the next flight out.

I think about reaching out to people.

Way more than I probably even should.

Of course that never materialises.

Because again- I suck at these things.

But now that is made worse by the fact that at this point I can barely even make time for myself

So why am I writing this again?

IDK.

Maybe I need help.

Maybe this is a letter for my people to come out of where they were and find me already.

Maybe I’m writing this because I want to beg whoever is planting themselves in my life right now not to go away.

Maybe I’m writing this because there are a couple of burnt bridges I need help re-building. Good bridges not bridges that were falling.

Maybe I’m writing this for anyone who feels alone. Actually I am writing this for anyone trying hard to say sane when they aren’t sure where and to whom they belong.

And also I’m writing this for anyone who has found their tribe- a polite note to remind them to thank God every day. To cherish those people who stay and never to stop loving on them hard.

Because friendship that defies even the harshest of weather  is a gift. And some people spend their whole lives searching for it.

Quarter Life Crisis?

 

 

It’s a kind of an existential crisis where you wake up and go to work and have a decent day but then you get home and you realize how everything feels so routine and you wonder if that is what you really want in life. So you question everything. And the doubt bleeds into everything and everyone around you. Although it really isn’t their fault that you genuinely don’t know what the fuck you want. So you start to get nervous and your mind races. And maybe if you have a creative streak you wonder if you would be better off chasing that dream but then you also question if that dream really makes sense. Or you ask yourself the questions an innocent eighteen year old you would never ask: BUT HOW CAN I MAKE STUPID COMFORTABLE MONEY OUT OF THIS?

So what do you do when the first of those demons come to haunt you?

First you make peace with the fact that this probably isn’t the last day they will show.

And you sit it out and find comfort in soulful RnB and just wait to feel normal again.

 

 

Cheget.

It’s not that I haven’t been writing much this year it’s just that my content was too dark for this site.

Or not.

And it is only 4 or 3 posts since my last birthday post which again also alludes to the fact that I did not write much this year.

Why?

Because blogging at work is soo fucking hard nowadays   being grown and doing the whole work study thing is hard and I am just not as drawn to writing as I used to be.

Being here, typing this is making me very nostalgic. I mean, back in the day I wrote.
I did Taking Stock Posts monthly, I played my part in using writing for advocacy to bitch about men being asses smash the patriachy. What didn’t I write about? I wrote stuff to encourage people to get out of their rut and do something with their lives. I wrote about great holidays. I was by all means a pretty lit writer. Not because I was good. I am a freaking amateur. But hey, at least I strung one or two sentences together every so often and expressed myself and one or two people liked it. Others shared it. I certainly got a ton more views there than I do on WordPress… where did my fans go btw??? Y’all can’t find me unless I share this sh*t on my facebook?????? I mean I thought we was friends??

Anyway I digress. I miss being here. In this creative space. I miss banging away at keyboards and reading and re-reading posts in search of typos. I miss browsing Google for images to use on my posts. I miss being a writer. I miss having that as my primary identity.

However, I wouldn’t say I miss being able to express myself. Frankly, I find myself speaking my truth a hell of lot more nowadays so I can’t say that is lacking in my life. But writing feels so magical and I find myself unable to how beautiful that feeling is until I reminisce on the good days on Blogger.

So why am I here?

First of all I’m meant to be giving a whole story on how excited I am to turn twenty four and spreading my sense of self realization  and “namaste-ness” and flooding screens with tales of the kind of person I want to be on the 24th floor. I will do that. But I’ve already hit 400 words so if I dare start this will be one hell of a long blog post.

So indulge me as I stroll down memory lane. The lack of sunshine in this city certainly reminds me of this time anyway. So let’s remember how my words first surfaced on the internet.

I wrote a more “all up in my feelings”  poetic version of this story here.

But here is a version with less hidden meaning.

First of all to the muse behind all this, if you ever read this. THANK YOU. And if you read this and you know him… hey friend of mine whose name starts with K.. please remind him of me though I have doubts about the description you would use but IDC  and tell him he changed my life. In his own inebriated way.

Anyway.

She was birthed at a party almost 4 years ago. There are so many unmentionable details about said party which I won’t say because Executives know how to use Google and judgy acquaintances might read this. But we were talking and the muse, let’s call him Cheget, Cheget was the only person my shy ass was talking to. And why I credit him with helping me find my platform was because as he engaged me I mentioned how I am a writer.  At the time I was still figuring what I wanted fiction versus prose/poetry and he seemed genuinely interested in the shit I write amongst other things. I told him stuff about how I had written my first novel at 15, how I never got published because an editor found my manuscript good but wanting. How that rejection really broke me and I lost the heart to take that story to the next level. I told him all that nonsense. Of course silly me had nothing to show for all this yummy ideas because all my work was stored in notebooks hidden in my room. I went home the next day I couldn’t stop thinking about my conversation with Cheget. And other things.

For weeks after that I replayed the conversation and felt this drive to definitely do something.

Long story short, the thoughts got to me and here we are.

I’ve never met Cheget again although Social Media investigating has not let me forget his face lol. But I blog simply because the boy inspired me. And I suppose a part of me keeps doing this because should I ever run into Cheget again, I intend to have something tangible to show for my writing prowess when I say to him these words- I’m a also a writer/blogger and I’m sort of effing good at it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PS…

Special shout out to my old friend who is just a phenomenal human being for also in her own way inspiring me with her super cool writings and blogs as well.

 

Love until the next time,

The Writing Heliophile.

Dealing with the past 48 Hours- The Anxious Girl’s Guide.

eIf you are reading this for the same reasons I am writing this do me a favour, Get off Facebook. Delete the app. Log off from your laptop or whatever device you use to access it.

Have you done that?

Good.

That is the provisional end of this article.

---

---

I am here because my birthday sucked. And I spent it curled up in fetal position trying to convince myself to read about Hypothesis Testing  even when I literally could not get my legs to carry me out of bed.

I’m here because the level of HCL in my stomach right now could corrode stainless steel. I am writing this because my body is retaliating and my face is this hot mess of rashes which somehow burns when I wash it and my eyes are red because I haven’t slept well since Thursday and I am a mess.

Also, the weather sucks.

And if your anxiety brings you to this level where you have to remind yourself to breathe then welcome to this blog post. I hope I can help. If not yourself then at least me because my cup is empty. No, I’m lying. My cup feels the way it did when it left the potter’s kiln. Cracked and dry. So if this doesn’t help you, I hope it helps me because no other form of self care is working. Sleep and vanilla scents clearly haven’t. And I am tired.

I wasn’t planning on writing this.  I was going to inspire you with this new energy I was feeling about turning 24 . But the events of this country the past few days have literally made me shift my energy from making all these grandiose plans for my 24th year to just wondering one thing. When will this isht end?

Call me the ignorant middle class for missing the deceptive sense of normalcy that felt like home. God knows the number of times I have read people who think like me write something I agree with only to be bashed by these keyboard warriors who don’t understand how badly some of us want things to go back to normal. At least normal enough for us to go back to the jobs and attend classes that allowed us to fulfill our purpose and eventually in the slightest of ways, make tomorrow a little better, if not for our neighbours, at least for our family and friends.

Anyway I’m not about to air my political views here. That’s never been my style. So I will tell you how to deal. Because for the past few days it was hard. And. I. Just.Could. Not.

1. Get away from the keyboard warriors. 

Uninstall Facebook. Log off twitter. Shut down your TV, even if its for 2 hours. Get away from the noise if the noise is keeping you from breathing. Let them type what they want to but don’t feel obliged to give it audience. Neither should you feel compelled to add to it. Not everyone was called to be Superman or Robin hood. It’s perfectly okay if the most you can give your country is a vote for positive change. Your badge of honour is your inked pinky. So don’t be part of social media wars that only drain you. And yes, reading tweets and long winded facebook posts from everyone is being a part of the war. If I’m to be honest every level of anxious I am feeling or have been feeling is because what I see on Facebook is too much. What I see on Facebook makes me hopeless because the days when our biggest worries were the fckbois and sidechics being exposed on KMDU seem like they will not come back anytime soon and that makes me sad. So today, I chose to give myself a break from it all. Instead I filled my life with Instagram posts of people face-beating, lunching, gyming, MCMing and guess what? I found slight comfort in the fact that there are people moving on with their damn lives. And that helped. So shut down. Get away from social media which does not give you good energy. I dare you also to take this a step further. Go on a blocking spree. Chances are you really don’t need half the people you follow. So dish out those blocks like confetti. I promise you when I get the energy to get back to my timeline, I will dish out those blocks “salt bae” style- unapologetically. Some people are good.But they are not always good for you. In 2017 you have the freedom to choose how your information hits you and if information mixed with a dash of heated opinion, right or wrong is not your style then cut it out. The world wont end if you don’t check Robert Alai’s  wall.

2. Pray

I would put this as number one but believe me you are better off not being on Facebook when you want to pray. Because Facebook is the devil. It will distract you.

Get on your knees. Hold a Bible, Quran, Gita or whatever  and talk to your God. Tell him every single thing. And when you are done and you still don’t feel okay. Pray Again.

See what these keyboard warriors forget is that no amount of hashtags and retweets will save you like God can. I know this. I have borne witness to this countless times in my life.

And if you cant pray. Ask your people to pray for you, and if your friends can’t pray with you then please add them to the list of life-blocks we agreed you are dishing out at point one.

Prayer renews your hope. Prayer protects. Prayer heals. Prayer forgives. Prayer makes justice happen. Prayer will give you everything you feel is lacking and then some.

Need proof?

I am typing this right now because my mom’s prayer group did it and somehow those prayers made my exams be pushed by a week and I can finally exhale. For now.

3. Talk about it. Write about it. Journal it.

I will not explain further. I will just beg you not to bottle it in. See, if you are like me and take on weight you are better of shedding, talking and writing is release. So find a friend, real or virtual, someone who will not judge you for worrying at a time when there are people with bigger problems. Someone who will listen. Tell them everything. Talk to them even if you feel like you are not being sensible. Just let it out.

4. Change your scenery.

If you are reading this and live in the Kilimani area, I am giving you a judgement free pass to be one of those people who go to Kiza and order one Guarana that you sip for 6 hours just for the snapchat story. Please, if it means you get off that couch where you have been inhaling bad news for the past 48 hours, do it. I will refund you at the end of the month. (in monopoly money lol.) Take the effort to forget your problems for a bit. Take a walk, go buy mutura or mahindi choma. Let that oxygen hit you even if its for twenty minutes and see the difference it will make.

5. Lastly, if you are suffering from a case of Post Election Anxiety, know you are not alone. The world is scary. People do scary things. And some of us just feel this more than others. So don’t feel obliged to fight battles that are not meant for you. Yes there is injustice. No it is not right. But if you don’t feel strong enough to fight then it’s okay to be a warrior on your knees. That army is never understaffed.

We will be alright. But do this  anxiety triggering place a life changing favour. Pray for this country, from the comfort of your bedroom. God will hear you. He has to.

 

 

PS. 

IF YOU’VE MADE IT THIS FAR AND STILL NEED A LITTLE HELP, A PRAYER BUDDY OR JUST SOMEONE TO LISTEN WHO WON’T JUDGE, PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME VIA A DM TO MY FACEBOOK ACCOUNT ( OR SEND ME A DM ON ANY OF MY INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS (@__kemmie__ or @the_writing_heliophile). I know it isn’t easy but we can pray or talk and we can help each other get through this. Remember, mental health matters so take care of yourself, okay?

Love always,

The Writing Heliophile.

 

Check Yo’self.

It has come to my attention that growing up isn’t paying bills but it is actually coming face to face with your own bullshit and dealing with it. And I swear the past few week has shown that to me clearly.

As I type this I am exhausted. Physically. Because Masters life is straight out torture. Mentally. Because again… Masters Life. But even more so emotionally. Because the past week has been one that has taken me on a roller-coaster. The kind of roller-coaster you can only experience when  you come face to face with your own worst enemy of progress. YOU.

So I’m not sure where to go with this. I guess I’ll just dwell on something we all need to learn.

We are imperfect. Scratch that. I am imperfect because I write to vent but I also write so that someone else may learn from me.

And I’m here to say this. I’ve learnt that this week that sometimes the toxic friend is the one staring back at you in the mirror. The one who is so quick to point out the million ways other people around you are f’ing up yet your own house is crumbling from the poisonous behaviour and thoughts you allow to nest within yourself. Sometimes the reason you are colliding with people is not because they are the ones who don’t understand or because they are the ones who are so proud its because you are the one keeping them from being a better person to you. And when that reality sinks in, it fucking burns.

Because then you question who you are,really. Are you truly the happy go lucky optimist with a big heart or are you masking your own selfishness and negativity? Do you believe in the same ideologies you keep preaching to those around you or are you just an empty vessel shouting out positive vibes for the sake of sounding melodic?

Think.About.It.

Sometimes our happiness isn’t because we have truly fixed the flaws within, it is because we have learnt to mask them. And a time comes when you have to confront your own bullshit and deal with it. Deal with it because you may realize the very same shit is what is holding back your progress. Deal with it because the people around you deserve better. Deal with it because you cant outrun your demons forever.

This week I have been dealing with a lot of my own shit. Jay helped me because if ever there was a piece of artistry which had me self reflecting it had to be this one. This week I literally had to kill Kemunto and I saw a lot of shit I would rather have swept under the rug. And I’m not even done yet. But sometimes the first step is admitting that your own house isn’t perfect. And I’m thankful for music that helped me see that.

So anyway, again I’m not sure where I want to go with this, I know I can write this story better. And I will. Just not now.

But I will end with this…

Listen to 4:44. Not as background music but savour it and may it help you stop and  take a minute to open up that closet you would rather have locked and see what’s in there. Accept your own bullshit. Check yourself. And fix whatever glorious mess you see there.

Cry Jay-Z, we know the pain is real but you can’t heal what you never reveal.-

off Kill Jay-Z by Jay-Z

image from Google

 

June.

Lately, there has been a deficit of creativity in my life. Why? Because Post Grad life. Because being employed is the most exhausting blessing. Because writer’s block. And every paragraph I draft ends up in my trash.

But this space is what makes me me. In this space I have control. I get the kind of control I sometimes feel I lack because again… adult life. So my resolution for the remaining half of the year is to stay creative. To keep writing. To continue defining and re-discovering myself. But most importantly to LIVE INSPIRED. Because lately I felt like I have been just existing.

The first quarter of this year was a bit rough for me. I’ll be honest. My happiness was threatened. Or rather I allowed my happiness to be threatened. I allowed someone to get into my head and fuck up that space of positivity I have been consciously trying to maintain. And the thing about letting someone else’s energy get into a space as sacred as that is that you never get back to being the same. You try to live your life but once that particular part of you is compromised, it just isn’t the same. You don’t laugh the same. You don’t dream the same if at all you manage to. And that… that is scary. Because in your own indirect way you lose control of yourself and surrender it to that person. And sometimes you don’t even realize it.

But I am trying to get back.

I started my post graduate degree in May and in it’s own little way, that has helped me get back to this space of happiness.  Even though this… is basically how I feel every damn day now…

 

 

My Masters class is what I look forward to every day because I get to interact with people who are inspiring. I get to trade ideas and having two or three friends in that class whose stupid matches mine certainly makes studying Market Theories much easier lol.

I am life lover. I love being happy. And I am determined to stay happy and inspired for the rest of the year. I’ve been investing more in self care lately. I unashamedly take a nice warm nap when my body is just done. Jumia food saved my life because it makes it easier to fill that burger shaped void in my heart when I need to.

I am also being deliberate in the kind of energy I allow around me. Meaning I do not have time for people who don’t bring positive energy and happiness to me, I just don’t . Even if these people are close to me and I can’t avoid them, I have started learning the art of minimizing contact. Or where I can calling them out on their negativity and walking away.  My energy is sacred. My joy matters. So does my peace of mind.

 

The past few days there is this song (re-sang by Gladys Knight) I keep humming after work and I think it captures the essence of this new space I am in, or trying to get into mentally….

 

“I Hope You Dance”

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they’re worth taking
Lovin’ might be a mistake
But it’s worth making
Don’t let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

 

So this month. I hope anyone reading this chooses to dance. To shed the negativity and to embrace the beauty around  them. Most importantly. I hope whoever reads this chooses to LIVE INSPIRED. And if you are reading this and have been stuck in a rut like I was for a while, don’t stop fighting. Don’t let the dark place win. You’ll get back to shining. Just give yourself time.

Have a happy new month.

 

Till next time.

Love,

Kemunto ♥

Fighter

I’m writing this for anyone who needs to read it.

Could be me. Or anyone really.

Because sometimes we face curveballs that threaten the good energy we have tried to cultivate around us.

Sometimes we fight forces that threaten our magic- our happiness, our dreams, and everything else that sparks that little light we try to radiate to the world.

Sometimes the forces are external, and we deal with those wars by cutting them off and blocking them out.

Sometimes, most times, the wars are within. And we use whatever arms we have at our disposal- internal healing or seeking the light of those who inspire us to keep shining to fight the threat.

But what do we do when the forces are both outside and on the inside?

What do we do when around us is a negative energy which will not go away and within us our minds are on overdrive reminding us of everything we have fought hard not to believe?

How do we go on when we feel totally and utterly helpless because somewhere in between the constant negative thoughts and people or circumstances constantly put a cloud over us that weighs down on our magic heavily?

How do we remember how to smile again?

For one thing, we allow ourselves to feel the rain. Because sometimes the only way to truly get over it is to confront that darkness and let it do what it needs to. Sometimes the only way to truly learn the lesson is to allow ourselves to feel the pain.

And then you keep fighting. Keep trying to get back to who you were before the storm came. Keep viciously trying to protect your energy. Keep trying to smile, even when the situation won’t let you. Keep trying to prove the storm wrong. Get out of bed and face the same battles that are yours to win. And just because they got you down yesterday, doesn’t mean you are any less a warrior than you who you were all the other times you overcame storms before.

Dear fighter, 

You, are magic.

You are a phenomenon bursting with gifts the world is yet to see.

The most rare and beautiful of flowers, 

Don’t surrender your right to bloom.

♥♥♥♥

image from google images

On blooming: A quick review of Desert Flower by Waris Dirie.

Read this one wearing a loose flowing
dera under a tree on a hot afternoon in January doused in a dense cloud of all your favourite perfumes. The Somali are a very sensual people after all and this book demands the same of you. Be oozing raw beauty and sexuality. Get into character. Channel Beyonce’s fierce. Wear your beauty like Naomi, gracefully. Bathe yourself in Ajuma’s melanin. Then open this book and soak in Waris’s strength, line after line, page after page. That is how to read this book.
Read this book with your face cringing in shame. Because the world knows a side of Africa you would rather keep swept under the rug of mushrooming cities and dream holiday destinations. But the ugly reality of Female Genital Mutilation and early marriages is still as much a part of the African story as the funny and beautiful stories Mother Chimamanda writes about in her books.

In spite of that, this book is a true reminder that God took his time wirh African Women. Amidst a culture where women are constantly undermined and disrespected God made the African woman special and put in her all she needs to overcome this. He built us resistant to carry all the baggage we walk around with emotionally just as easily as we carry water and babies on our backs. He made us unbreakable. He built us strong. He built us with a fire in our hearts. A fire that cannot be put out until we succeed. Until we rise above the suffering we constantly face in our environment that fails to see us as man’s equal. Until we carve our own path even as constant road blocks are thrown at us as we journey along. Until the world sees us and recognises our greatness. Until we bloom.

And that is why I think you are doing yourself a great disservice if you haven’t read this one.

Image from Pinterest

 

Side note: 

I got my paperback copy from Nakumatt