Unlocking and winging adulthood game levels.

Ever since I started living on my own, I think I unlock a different level of adulthood every other time. Feels like I was tossed in some sort of Jumanji adulthood game. Some levels are pretty easy, some will have my mind riling and others have me feeling so proud of myself, just by accomplishing them.

Monday evening, I had to go change my gas. I had been postponing refilling simply because I wasn’t having enough money but the biggest reason being that I was feeling lazy carrying the cylinder all the way from the fifth floor, to the shop and just the thought of the physical baggage had me reluctant. But a girl has been having a huge appetite and it’s only right that she gets the gas to make cooking easier, other than buying food.

Before I decided to finally take the gas down, I called my mum. Call it buying help from the game store, to improve my skills and get past this level. I didn’t want to get ripped off, so I had to ask her what cylinder brand was best to exchange, so that I’m not given a knock off.

The economy is currently inflating day by day and basic commodities are insanely having hiked prices. This is something that has been in the news day in day out and it is sickening, if I was to be honest. I remember that there was a time I would buy half a loaf of bread at 12 Kenyan Shillings and now a whole loaf of bread is at 55 Kenyan Shillings, shooting to 60 Kenyan Shillings. Bread!!! One of the very many infractions that are just hard to escape your attention. Some prices remain recalcitrant just to mock your pockets!

I gasped at how an empty cylinder is heavy imagining just how a refilled one would weigh, the torture my fingers would have to endure. I hung a grocery bag over my shoulder to buy some potatoes on my way back.

The previous week, I had passed by the shop and asked the lady I found there how much it would cost to refill the 6kg gas and she said 1,300Ksh. That Monday, I found a man who I automatically assumed was the husband.
‘This war in Russia has led to inflated gas prices, since they are the second producers of gas in the world. ‘ I stand there, not wanting to believe what he was saying. ‘What do you mean it is now 1,400Ksh? The lady I met here last week told me 1,300Ksh!’ this is just outrageous, I tell myself.
‘Yes, it was, but believe you me, by next week, it might hike to 1,500Ksh. Some distributors are as a matter of fact hoarding the gas cylinders so that they can sell them as they please’ he goes on and deep down I was like, well! Catch me refilling gas at 1,500Ksh!

I did not exactly get the brand I wanted but the substitute he was giving me, was one my mum had approved so why not? I paid half heartedly, sighing defiantly as soon as the Mpesa message confirmed the payment.

Self-baptizing myself with energy, I summon as much of it as I could ‘I am really winging this level of adulthood! Look at me carrying a 6kg gas, a bag of potatoes over my shoulder struggling to maintain my balance! My fingers screaming from the weight. Whew!’

A girl is wearing and rocking the big girl pants day by day! Applauding and appreciating the levels she has passed, is in and those that lay ahead.
So, what levels of adulthood do you feel like you are winging and feel proud of, no matter how small?

Demons of war.

And they taught us how to fire guns at a young age
Running through the maize plantations like crazy people

Pledging loyalty to the sound of guns, cocking them, a daily mantra
Cramming the algorithm of polishing boots, till the reflection of horrifying images radiated on them, catatonic emotions overcrowding our judgement

Shortcut to hell just a bullet away, propelled and perpetuated by dirty hands, soiled till nails become licorice black, not the type that would hold and caress a woman, no way!

And with all that, they forgot to tell us of how short the life that was to come after the exchange of bullets would be
The life that failed to instigate measures of how to undo the sight and stench of death

How to look her in the eyes, without the visages of the people we killed staring at us, threatening to haunt us to the grave
Or how to hold a bouquet without it dripping with the blood we shed back there

Or how to react when her voice is on the other end. They didn’t prepare us for that, now that we are here, crossing that bridge, we are afraid of getting to the other side, the untouched conspiracies bother us, the high chances of self-sabotage underway.

So, forgive me, if I arrive on my black stallion, weather beaten wanting my boots to be taken off, longing to be drowned in love, afraid to look in your eyes, to prevent the dead from boring traumatizing thoughts, in your heart.
Hope my words will sound convincing enough and that my voice won’t be ragged and chipped

I hope that when the demons and ghosts come knocking in me in the middle of the night, that you won’t have to run away but hold me closer, as you stroke my hair, whispering words of love.

4 years at it.🎆🎇

I did wake up with a migraine today. Soon as my feet touched the cold floor, I reached for my phone lying somewhere beneath my duvet. I noticed the notification from WordPress and I smiled. “I thought it’s been longer than 4 years” I tell myself. I feel like I have been blogging since forever. I have dreamt and still do, about one day, having my own column in some newspaper, but i had to start somewhere, and my blog served as the stepping stone. In here, I poured myself out, shared some intimate pieces that had made me feel great for the longest time and I feel like this is always a safe place for all my thoughts and pieces. 4 years of blogging and still going strong. There’s times I have taken a hiatus thinking I don’t have anything to put down but with time I have realized that inspiration is just everywhere.

🥂 here’s to many more years of blogging and being patient for dreams to come true.

Enjoying this achievement, cause why not? I actually thought and felt like I’ve been at this for longer than 4 years😂

The black bird.

I remember sitting at Jay’s desk

Staring at the city below

People walking in short strides

The traffic controllable

Assorted sounds coming from everywhere

The computer before me playing soft songs

Caught up staring at the city being alive

The black bird finds it’s way on the window pane

Distracted, I smile and shift my gaze

Sticks around for a few minutes

Before I know, it left, as quick as it had come by.