He will text or call you just to tell you the most trivial of things, just to ensure he kept you up to date or made you laugh. He will keep calling even when you don’t pick at first because you’re stuck in a meeting. If you are stuck somewhere, say, filling NHIF forms and don’t know those weird numbers, he’ll read them out off head – both his ID number and my mum’s, and any other random number you might want.
Tag: <span>Family</span>
So I ran out of bundles from sending too many Bitmoji to someone when I left the office. (Yes, B, that’s what they were. Google that. Don’t know if there’s an app for that for Windows phones. Muhahahahahahahaha! Is there any app for anything for Windows phones anyway?)
Anyhuuuuu, (I’ll be using this word now that Biko hated on it. You know how I’m always trying too hard to be a rebel? Yep.)
I wake up at 8 am today. A record. You all know I wake up at 10 am on Saturdays. It’s getting harder and harder to wake up at that time nowadays. I have made a pact with myself that I will not neglect friendships in the name of resting away during the weekend. So I wake up, dillydally in the warmness of the blankets, chat with a friend, let miss cat join me as usual and then I finally make it out at 8:30 am. Someone congratulates me for waking up that early. Well in. I am up because I am headed for a wedding. A wedding I cannot fail to attend. Hannah’s wedding. If you frequent this blog, you know Hannah. Hannah almost always is the one who comments first on my posts. If she doesn’t do it here, she will do it on my Hangouts.
I loved that series. Early Edition. Anyway, here is the thing, my writing is too erratic for anyone’s liking. For that reason, and to reduce the number of times I apologize for not writing consistently in 2015, I will be writing this weekly piece just to make sure the blog does not grow cobwebs. No one likes to walk through cobwebs, at least I don’t. Here goes:
There are exactly 14 days to the end of this year. This will be the first time I will be truly reflecting on the happenings of the year. The last 351 days have taken me through paths and thickets I have never trodden before. I thought it would be good to share some of them with you. Even though some of the may seem too trivial for life, they have undoubtedly reshaped my life, thoughts and the direction that my life has taken.
“Ciku, nda yakwa ni iratuura,” she groans in the dark. Ciku, my stomach is aching.
It’s been a while since she woke me up in the middle of the night. I turn and grope around for my phone. 03:56. Jesus Christ. I was hoping to sleep for longer since it is a Saturday morning.
It’s December! It’s December! *Runs around screaming like crazy.*
Okay. Shiku is calm now. Why is she excited? December baby. She turns 25 on December 29th. 25!
What happens when you turn 25? Sounds like an age with lots of responsibilities and expectations. We’ll see how she handles that.
As December approaches, we all love to travel and sightsee. If you have a tight budget, and you don’t plan to travel, I would highly encourage you to just take a city walk. I have done this numerous times, and it amazes me how much you can learn by just walking about the city. I should probably come back with a list of the sites to see and why, but for now, I will only speak about Uhuru park, and for a different reason.
Sema kuchoka. Yesterday was a big day for mum and dad. 25 years down the line, they were at my cucu’s (mum’s mum) for ngurario or gutinia kiande. Relax, I will proceed to tell you what the ceremony involves and why I could not write about it yesterday. It is basically the last ceremony in the dowry paying process.
I wake up fully at 10:00. It is a Saturday and it is not my wedding day, so I do not see why I should have woken up earlier. Mum dropped by the room and left instructions before this. Someone had tried to wake me up with a text at 08:43 and I told him to try harder. Someone else tried waking me up with a call at 08:47. She laughed hard when she realized I was in bed. Do not call me before 10:00 on any Saturday from now on. Thanks. The only reason I get out of bed is because mum calls at 10:02 and asks if we are up (and that I am to water the cabbages in the garden since she has noticed they were dying lol). Also, Claire finally stirs in the other bed. I cannot let the eight-year-old roam the house alone.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, a start-up is “a newly established business”. Okay. But why is it that we don’t call all new businesses start-ups? Or do we? Is it even a startup or start-up? Microsoft Word 2013 thinks it’s the latter and so I agree. What I am trying to say is, the term start-up applies to more than just the tech companies by young individuals you read about every day. However, this post applies to such start-ups but in the developing world. You know you are working at a Kenyan start-up when:
If you have met me, you know I am small. Very small, or rather, small for my age. I did not even know I was small until around high school. For one, my younger brother just shot up overnight. Today, he looks like the first born in the family. Secondly I bumped into my frenemy one afternoon in the green city in the sun. He probably thought I was tall and all because my status updates on Facebook back then probably gave a sense of height. Lofty and high. Ahem. Anyway, he could not shut up about how small I was after that. Since then, 2009, to date, he has never shut up about it. He digs up blog articles on short girls on sites like Thought Catalog or funny pics and drops them on my Facebook wall. And since he has some strange influence among our Facebook circle of friends, he roped other friends in in re-emphasizing my height.
I laugh out loud at the jokes. Initially, back when I was too serious for life, I’d hate the taunting. But we grow up. Even if it is not obvious on the outside. Lol. I love being short. I love it so much, I will tell you why.
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