STORIES FROM MY HEART

Sunday Evening I was at Capri 7 for movie night! Lizz Njagah and Alex constantaras, my dearest friends were having a premiere for their movie. Me, My Wife and her Gur. Intersting! if you're a Kenyan, it sort or reminds you of a recent scenario within the media circles, even though there is a sweet disclaimer at the end credits. I hope you get to watch it! This was the teaser on Youtube.

I don't usually do this: It is not an original post. I got this forward from a friend, I've unsuccessfully tried to find the originator through twitter, because this must be the most hilarious post I've read in a while. Kenyan's will understand this act pretty well. Let me explain for those that don't, such as my friend Bazanye from Uganda. The act of picking up a girl you meet, mostly in a club is called Chips Fungaing which is literally translated to mean, 'Take away Chips'. A common habit for club goers in Kenya is to pass by a chicken and Chips take-away shop, whatever the time, hence the term. so here's the act: The provisions of the CHIPS ACT are as follows: 1. Section 2(1) provides that a chips shall always appear in a club looking fresh. Sweaty mamas wakae home. 2. A chips shall never ask for payment after a night of sec.........luded fun in a secluded place. Chipsing is free. Asking for credit, fare back home sha...

Which mum wouldn't want to receive something like that from their 4 year old who is just learning to write? This weekend saw lots of Baby-Mummy and more family time in Kisumu. My nephews and nieces also had quite the fab time, with my daughter asking my sister the host, if she could see the cows two minutes after we were welcomed into the house. My sister does not keep cattle, but Imani thought we were at my mum's in Kitale, gave us a bit of a laugh there, something that carried on throughout that weekend. I'm still trying to make her understand why Kisumu is not Kitale and why Kitale is not close to Nairobi etc. I guess distance is still a very complicated issue to a 4 year old. Complicated. Saturday afternoon the kids stayed in to write, colour and play. They are at the level where they're just learning sentences and how to write stuff. The older boys wrote sentences from a book they had, and( I must digress)my nephew Kipkoskei has the most beautiful handwrit...

That's a question i got from my 5 year old nephew last evening who sat next to me on the flight back to Nairobi after a great weekend in Kisumu, with my sisters and their families. They; (My nephew, his mum and younger sister) were getting picked up by their dad. I told him I'd packed our car at the airport, and it would be more convenient for us, but i do know that it it was issues deeper than the availability of long term parking that he was asking of. I duly reminded my daughter that we had parked at the airport and offered her a new topic to avoid further discussion. Sometimes a family unit is Father, Mother Child. Sometimes is Mother and Child. Sometimes its a father and Child. Sometimes its a phase. Sometimes its permanent.

For a Kenyan to write and actually believe what is now the title of this blog is a difficult thing. We are not one people, and if one people makes one Nation, then perhaps, in many ways we are not One Nation. 2007 was the eye opener year for many Kenyans, who were, like me, dreamers.I am one of the most optimistic people you will find, perhaps that may also mean that i have such strong hope, almost to a naivety, for things, such a loving husband and a house atop a hill, with picket fences and acres of rose bushes. My poetry may speak louder of my dreamy nature, but this was crushed after 2007, when i went home for Christmas holidays, after voting in Nairobi, then traveled up country to be with my mother and the rest of the family. it was supposed to be a wonderful Christmas. It was, bu the days that followed the announcement of the presidential results were made in hell. I remember TV scrolls of people killed in different parts of the country. it was as if some high voltage e...