There are things that make you forget how to breathe for a minute and I hope you reading my blogs does exactly that. Carol Bett
“Sasa juu umevaa tumbocut hutaitika?”
Ouch! These were the words that pierced through my soul on the 8th of October. I had had a very long, tiresome day. One filled with boy drama after work, falling off a high-end friendship horse and watching a good theatre show at ukumbi ndogo, all in one day.
I was so low, tired, disappointed, on the verge of tears, and to top it all off I didn’t want to talk to anyone. So it happened when I was approaching my hostel gate and these three street kids were sitted along the road. The first one called out “sistaaa”, then the second one joined in and both called out even louder “sistaaa”. I ignored them, quite aware they were calling out to me. Then the third one joined them and now it seemed like a symphony of calling out “sistaaaaaaa”. I continued walking even faster and one of them said those words that made me want to hide. Ooh my! Where would I hide my pathetic face as people headed to klabu started laughing and some I could hear muttering “heeh manze siezi ambiwa ivo.”
I wasn’t wearing a tumbo-cut guys. (Just incase mum reads this lol)
My self esteem was pretty much bruised and when I came out of the hostels to go for supper, I had to wear a big hoodie and change my whole outfit. It got me thinking; what if I was a child? Whatever they had said would not have hurt me like this. It would have slipped my mind by the next day yet here I am writing about it almost one month down the line. I should have known how to deal better with the situation. Who am I? An adult or a deteriorated kid.
As a child, you knew how to live. Such things would not have affected you in any way. Your only competition was to fake illnesses and see who missed more classes among your friends. Or who had better snacks at break. Tall buildings made you curious. Being last to be found in a hide and seek game made you so proud. Face painting at Uhuru park brought you so much joy. Bouncing castles made you the happiest person in the family. Playing bano made you feel so alive even though mum made it look illegal. Aaah pure bliss.
As an adult things change and we forget how to live. Most have been rendered powerless when battling peer presssure, alcohol and drug abuse, body size and so much more. We tend to conform to the patterns of this world, question religion, struggle to fight against being validated but end up in work places that do appraisals every six months. So wowwww!!
My fellow Sunday school teacher recently stated how as kids grow up, parents expect them to be less of a burden, but their growing also infringes to what they will become. The kids would soon have their own way of thinking so different from their parents, they would want to travel alone, go to sleepovers with friends and even want to date. It can get scary.
As Steve Pressfield said “a child has no trouble believeing the unbelievable, nor the genius nor the mad man. It is you and I with our big brains and tiny hearts who doubt and overthink and hesitate.”
So what is my point? We should look deeper into ourselves if we keep becoming better everyday or being our child self was way much better. We should know that each one of us has been made to build a history in the most authentic way. Competing in our lifestyles is not a way to improve ourselves if we are never contented with what we have. Be like me and Shee who dance in corridors and in our most childish elements, we knock on doors and run away. Surround yourselves with humans who bring out the most in you, and when nothing else seem to matter choose peace.
In your space, you can be whatever you want to be. If you want to be the treasure of a nation go for it. Be like Murumbi, a well reknown man in Kenya who made art come to life in Kenya. You can be like Zozibini Tunzi , miss universe queen from South Africa. Nature always provides a mirror so that you can look at yourself and how far you have come from. If you see a stain on your face while looking at your self in the mirror, you wipe yourself not the mirror. A perfect definition of how we can learn to correct our flaws.
Everytime I want to express myself here in my blog platform I do it so freely and cringe sometimes because I do it so raw. Here we let stories speak for themselves.
....................................................
Hello lovely readers!!
The last time I wrote on this blog I wished everyone a happy new year 2023 meaning i wasn't going to write till 2023.
But guess who is back!
Most of you precious gems requested I write.
Here is a little something i hope you have enjoyed.
share, like, leave a comment, sign up
Feedback is highly appreciated.
sending love
if you have a burning story you are willing to share reach out to my email bettcaro92@gmail.com
What I have been reading:
Silent Patient
Twenty love poems and a song of despair by Pablo Neruda