The Uuuhs and Aaarghs of my life

All isn’t All

All is not All
Oh, how heavy the load of our longings when we make them the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our hope when we make it the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our dreams when we make them the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our deepest of trust when we make it the responsibility of One.

Oh, how heavy the load of our purest of love when we make it the responsibility of One.

One that isn’t ourselves.

One that isn’t God.

One that just can’t make us whole.

One that genuinely can’t be strong enough to carry it all, even if they truly care.

One who deceives us that All they’ve got it All.

All is not All.

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Goodbye Seattle


Night’s at bay, and I can hear the moon calling.

As I look outside the cafe window, sipping my coffee.

I wait, looking at the reflection of my yellow dress.


I long for an awakening – a purple moon, a train of shooting stars, and perhaps… a sun popping out of a box of gravity.


But as the evening moon rises, I realise it’s too late.

Your spectacle is over, and I showed up shy of a coffee with you.

I stand up and look back,

All along, I realise, I’d been trapped on the inside, as you danced outside with the one dressed in a green dress.


It’s strange, 

How your towering space needle once marvelled me.

Now, it grieves me to see your silhouette skyline.

A horizon I knew I could never reach.

A moment I never lived out.


I wish, for a moment,

You stopped the rhythm, broke the window and called me to join you in dance.


But the evening moon is calling,

Louder and louder.

And I’ve answered.


Goodbye Seattle.

The beautiful city that was never mine.

Superwoman


You won even before I began.

You had his heart even before I could try.

You will always be that pillar on mount Athens, and I a shadow in a valley where only his fears dwell.

You’ve shown me dust, and I now eat it for diner.

I was a simple human girl asking him to love me, but you were busy saving the universe with him.

While you save the world from evil, I can only water a garden of thirsty flowers.

Our names are somehow similar, but yours comes with a superpower too.

While you conquer his heart, I can only wish he’d think of me.

While you kiss his lips, I can only imagine it’s taste.

While you enjoys his visits to your universe, I can only gaze at your stardust.

I offered him a lot of world in my simple heart, but he chose to suffer kryptonite with you.

You’ve shown me dust, and I eat it for diner.

You’ve won, superwoman.

Kenya, we need to talk!

#KenyanLivesMatter

Dear Kenyans,

Did you sleep last night?

I didn’t. 

I couldn’t.

Not when in a distance, a neighborhood was forced awake all night with riots.

Not when police helicopters flew over my roof.

Not when gunshots poked through my sweet dreams, awakening me into a live nightmare.
Somehow, I fell asleep in the morning.

And I woke up to a stomach full of acid.

Loss of appetite (haven’t eaten since I woke up).

And a broken heart.
How on earth did we get here again?

How did we allow politics make us look at our neighbours differently? 

How could we bring chaos to our neighborhoods while the politicians we support go back to safe and secure homes?
I’m so tired.

I’m tired of being tired and scared every election season.

This needs to stop.
I’ve prayed and kept my peace.

I’ve voted wisely for leaders who promise great change.

I’ve been a good Kenyan.

It still seems not to be enough.
So what now?

We really need to figure ourselves out and make a decision about what we really want.

ALL the leaders we choose mirror our current values and priorities.

So why are we shocked when a police gun no longer protects us but is aimed at us?

When a 10-year-old girl standing at a balcony loses her life from a stray bullet?

When a journalist tries to capture and report to us a real story on the ground and gets arrested?
Kenyans, we need to talk.

We seriously need to sort ourselves out.

But as we painfully become aware of our mess…

We can at least try to be peaceful and see that we really do matter.

Our Kenyan Lives Matter.
Love, 

Ayuma.

🇰🇪❤

Enough. 

For the last 4 days, a stranger has been calling and texting me using multiple numbers. He knows my name and it’s scary! 

It all began with a, “Please help me, I’m homeless” message. It soon graduated to a, “May God forgive you for ignoring me” message. Today I woke up to “Why??? I love you, I’m not giving up” message. Truecaller confirms that it’s been 35 calls and 23 text messages.

After calling the police hotline to report, the officer advised me to visit a police station and make a report and get an OB number. 

Yesterday, I visited a police station and as soon as I stated my case, the male officer didn’t even look at me and pointed me to a chair using a pen. I sat down and waited. 
When a female officer walked in, she asked me to state my case and immediately referred me to another male officer to help me make a report. It seemed she was the only one making things happen at the police station. 

But as soon as she left to handle another matter, the male officer laughed and said he didn’t know what to report about my case. He read through my messages and abandoned my phone at the reception, as soon as another male officer came though with a request for a spare tire. 
Luckily, another female officer walked in and immediately attended to my case. 

As she recorded my statement and handed over my phone… her male colleagues distracted her with kicks in her shin, spanking her bottom, and another even forced a hug on her. I could see that she was uncomfortable but afraid to tell them to stop.

Walking out of the police station reception, I saw a group of policemen in civilian clothing silently staring at me in a way that made me feel like bolting away. 

All I felt was a deep sense of shame and betrayal as a Kenyan woman. 
Because it seems that our women are seen as objects, and not whole worthy human beings who deserve respect. 

#RespectOurWomen

Dancing in the Rain

a last dance in the rain

 

It’s raining outside,
And the sound of gentle drops on my window is beautiful and calming.

So I push back the curtain,
Peek out the window with nostalgic wonder.

And I’m met with a blue-grey blanket of rain,
One that paints a sweet memory of us, silent, listening to our hearts beat.

It’s hard to believe,
All I can sense of you now is hidden in pockets of nature.

Yet still,
Feel robbed of a chance to encounter our nature.

Days go by,
These memories, I fear, will start to fade.

As I dream of a time when you were the rain,
And I ran outside,
And we gently danced our last in nature’s embrace.

Finding Your Own Tribe

Finding your own tribe

Finding a Tribe Through Shared Values

During a wonderful conversation with my taxi driver recently, we talked business and discussed the tariff rivalry between Uber and that of Safaricom’s new Little Cab taxi service.

I was really concerned about the climate of his business but he confidently reassured me, “Don’t worry, it’s business as usual for me.” “Uber and Little Cab customers are actually not my customers,” he added.

He explained that his customers are people who’ve known him over the years and now trust him. Also, that it’s ok if Uber & Little cab users don’t opt for his services, he’s got his own pack hooked onto the value of friendship, loyalty and trust.

Now I know why I’ve been his customer for all these years despite Uber & Little Cab cheap tariffs.

I’ve been investing in a relationship, not money.

Truly, a great business lesson from my dear taxi driver, Victor (aka Baba Daniel).

#BeInspired

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