TABULA RASA

Wassup good people of the Teenky Way. See what I did there? No? Okay. Moving on swiftly, being the queen of inconsistency that I have been lately, I have had all of you in my thoughts and my versions of what you Christians call prayers. After a century of battling writer’s block, the stresses that came with the Rona bitch and a kaperiod of wallowing in imposter syndrome, I am back like I never left.

2021 is still young and having survived the last days of last year and still living through the first days of this year, one ought to count themselves lucky and ask themselves what it is that they have learnt thus far as they transition into the New Year.

Out with the old and in with the new, Tabula Rasa! Remember the days you used to live the phrase “new year new things?” this is a chance for all of us to open a new chapter, a clean slate and start afresh. The toxic traits that you possess? Get rid of them. You’re tired of always being a procrastinator? Then take that leap and walk the talk this year. Always justifying why your girlfriend never shows up even after sending her bus fare, with talk of her phone having fallen in the well? It’s time to see that you are being played like the idiot that you are. I have been seeing a lot of posts about how people are not giving a hoot this year and loving themselves more, putting themselves first and all that yada yada that we post year in year out. But give it two weeks max and we’ll have forgotten the promises that we had made to be better versions of ourselves. Why that keeps happening still beats me. But humans are humans nonetheless. I remember reading a post on some social media platform that talked of this year us moving with the audacity of that of a white man teaching African studies after being in Africa for two weeks. And I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Step into that upgraded version of yourself that you are afraid of showing the world. As cliché as it sounds, nobody cares so why not be bold? Why not be confident in yourself? Apply for those jobs that you think are beyond you. Remember self-confidence? So nothing is beyond you. Another thing, don’t trust the system, for it is biased. Instead, trust the process. This should be the year that we rectify the endless cycle of toxic patterns, put less pressure on ourselves. The universe is always out to screw us so why make it any worse for ourselves by screwing ourselves up, right? This should be the year that we actually make peace with our inner child and that way we will have come home to ourselves, because that’s where it’s at. Oh, and folks this year, please let us stop sleeping with our socks.

The Preacher’s Kid.

When you first meet him, he’s just your average normal kid. He doesn’t come off as the typical pastor’s kid, until he tells you his second name that he happens to share with his father. His father is a renowned man of the cloth with many years of experience in serving our good LORD.


This is the story of my friend and many other preacher’s kids (PK). We get to see what they go through and how the society perceives them. Oh, and how they take all that.


I think some bit of background on my friend will be in order. First, he claims to be an introvert but I question that. To me, he comes off as an ambivert. He has the charisma and assertiveness of an extrovert at the same time he has the thoughtfulness and listening skills of an introvert. One time he’s lively and the next he’s calm. I mean he’s very comfortable with crowds, above average social. He plays rugby and has never missed an after party or any party for that matter, though he’s a total teetotaler. I tend to ask myself if this is his decision or the church’s. He doesn’t do nasty or raunchy shit lest he tarnishes the family’s reputation. Like most of the preacher’s kids, he has to wear that tag for as long as he’s walking the face of this earth. He does talk, but only when spoken to. And he’s not loud. Something I like about him. He prefers his own company at times. He’s very reserved and I find his ‘chilled-ness’ comforting. He is smart but not that smart, just enough. He is tech savvy. His face doesn’t match his voice. He has this really mellow yet husky voice that is kind of therapeutic when he talks to you. His voice turns heads. That goes to show how I love to get him talking so I can just hear his voice and feel good about myself. I can go on and on about how he loves to work out and his perfectly toned body but that’s not what we’re all here for right?


My friend claims to have this maaad respect for his parents but I think it is mostly fear. Not that I know him thaaaat well but from our interactions and the conversations we’ve had about his parents, his father especially, he seems to fear them and confuses it for respect. Fear of disappointing his parents hence he walks through life as if he’s treading on eggshells. Fear of being termed a failure. Fear of getting on the wrong side of the church and what it stands for. Fear of embarrassing his dad and leaving him with his dick on his hands. I mean, you wouldn’t want the flock talking about how “mtoi wa passie ni DJ pale Sebbs” or “about how he got his campus sweetheart preggers before putting a ring on it”. Unlike normal children, pastor’s kids grow up under the scrutiny of judgmental eyes. They are put on a pedestal and forced to match the reputation of their parents. In the case of my friend here, people including his peers, keep asking him if he’s already prepping to take over from his old man. Some even go ahead to imitate his dad’s “preaching voice” when talking to him. I think that’s very insensitive and he also finds it insulting. If you like you can go ahead and tell me kwani hujuangi jokes? Actually najuanga jokes but jokes zingine hazileti. They are not allowed to “sin” and the irony lies in the preaching of their folks; that we are all sinners. Which makes you wonder why it would be any different for their children.


For the unlucky lot, they usually do not get the chance to develop their own faith, they just inherit a form of it and make-believe to please the crowds. Most of them are not open-minded but we can’t blame them because it was thrust upon them not to be so. Back to my friend, he thinks tattoos and piercings are for savages but I forgive him for thinking that. He thinks people who use drugs for recreation purposes (not those depressed souls that do drugs to escape reality) don’t like themselves. He thinks that if you don’t pray every day then you are not serious about your relationship with God. He thinks that people should go to church on Sundays even if they’re unwell because well, you’ll find healing in church. Who even thinks like that? He thinks that services are supposed to last for half a day and that only Sunday schools should take 30 minutes. Again, this is utter nonsense. He thinks a lot of things that just isn’t right but he seems he has his mind made up on a lot of things. Ps: I love my friend very very much.


They typically erupt in a rage of rebellion in their teenage hood when they can no longer live under the hypocrisy that is now their life: they are supposed to dress in a certain way, not showing too much skin, they are supposed to behave in a certain manner and anything on the contrary is not just frowned upon but preached the hell out of them. This is too much for some of them and most end up rebelling. I read a story of this boy in his sophomore years in campus who slipped into depression and attempted suicide because his parents, who were both church deacons, didn’t just let him be him. They found out that their kid wasn’t walking down the path that they had shown him. He had turned to drugs for solace but that too didn’t seem to work. Heck, he even got diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and ADHD but couldn’t tell his folks because they didn’t believe in stuff like that. When he eventually opened up to them about his condition, they thought that he was possessed. They even called these senior people who dominate most of the church committees and seem to “eat” all the sadaka to come perform exorcism. Like they would know anything about deliverance. Their mutiny often pushes them to the extreme end of the spectrum and most are disowned or labelled the black sheep of their family. I know of PKs who were kicked out of their homes because they found fulfillment in the bottle and not in the word. I mean your folks can’t be preaching water while you are imbibing a liquid whose density is not one. Literally! Or those who were flown to the states to lie low because they got themselves in the family way before marriage, who were called lost courses because they were brave enough to question the Holy Writings and religion itself. In the language of the church, this is sacrilege because you are questioning God and He is not to be questioned.


I’ll end my ranting by pleading with you to please cut these kids some slack. They didn’t choose to be born in a family where people have praise and worship for breakfast and Bible teachings for supper. They are humans too and as such they aren’t any different from the Principal’s kid.

Before I forget, Praise Jesus! Lest the Men of God invoke their Master’s wrath and I get struck by lightning.

TEENKY

Why you should love a Luo woman

Hadithi Hadithi

It is true now. That every red blooded Kikuyu man has hankered after a Luo woman at least once in his life. It is not a love or desire that can be easily explained away with words. No, it is deeper. It is in the way they step, and their waists wiggle like Nam Lolwe at sunset. Legs that look and feel like a skyscraper in Dubai…endless! A behind that is fuller than a granary in Eldoret after the maize harvest. Skin darker than our politician’s hearts! If her body was regulated by the Traffic Act. It would be an illegality. It has too many curves.

You can imagine walking her home after “dundaing” on a Friday night and getting stopped by 2 cops. They ask you to kindly get into the back of the pickup so they can escort her to the police station. Since you are a man!…

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WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

Good citizens of the internet, I greet you all in the name of everything that is nice and just. I would have simply said netizens but because I am a complicated person, I felt like complicating this too. So to my lovely Teenklings, I bless your minds and your feeds with yet another amazing piece.

There are some things that I used to like and nowadays I don’t. Not in the way you used to binge on cartoons and nowadays you don’t. I mean it in this way: awhile back, your neighbor Johnnie* would be mindful when playing music in his house because loud music might damage your unborn baby’s eardrums but nowadays nigga doesn’t give a rat’s ass or is it tail about emptying his household waste on your sukuma wiki garden or feeding your dogs without asking you first if they can. I mean the absolute nerve, the audacity and the fuckery of this guy!

I used to enjoy the times our politicians didn’t behave like dipshits. Take for instance during this Covid-19 period, how many corruption cases have you heard being mentioned in the news? I heard about how some of Jack Ma’s donations never made it on Kenyan soil. I kind of expected that because that was a typical Kenyan move. Don’t hate me for that statement, am just being a typical Kenyan. Haa! Or about how KEMSA gave medical supplies tender, some irregularly, and now that EACC is investigating how tenders worth billions were dished out to firms by them, now they are playing that annoying blame game. Also, did you hear about how some county bosses who are looting the counties’ coffers dry and they are doing it with so much impunity and reckless abandon? I have also just remembered this time when a famously outspoken senator, who happened to be in the Covid response team was defying the same outlined regulations put in place for managing covid-19 that he was enforcing. What a shame! Corruption is like cancer and it is eating our moral tapestry away. If only these senior people in the government would go back to not being A-holes. The same applies to the rest of us.

I used to like the era when people were more courteous. Nowadays hearing someone saying a simple “please” or “excuse me may I have the right of way?” is like hearing that the Al-Shabaab decided that killing people wasn’t really their thing and they all turned to more constructive activities like tree planting in the Kalahari or providing medical aid in war-stricken countries. Like no more blowing up malls, killing school-going children and that kinda shit. A person might step on your toe and won’t even be bothered not saying sorry. And trust you me, his conscience won’t haunt him if that’s what you expect. Those courteous words are rare in conversations like water in Ukambani. Again, pardon the comparison. Manners went to the dogs I say but come to think of this, dogs are even more courteous than us so scratch that statement. Manners went to wherever they went to. They probably went on vacation to the Maldives and failed to come back. Not that am praising the Maldivians for having good manners but you really did see what I did there. No? Okay, moving on swiftly.

 I used to find life absolutely peaceful when people tendad wema and never asked for fare to enda zao. Recently, you’ll hear your neighbor Chalo* running his mouth hoarse about how he bought your other neighbor (let’s name her Benta) a kilo of sugar, a week’s supply of maize flour and a 200ml bottle of hand sanitizer whose alcohol content is nowhere near 60%. And he expects the good Lord to bless his wonderful deeds? Just like that? Seeing as these are truly unprecedented and tough times, the good that we do unto others surely won’t miss our Sky Daddy’s radar. Miss me with that bullshit. It won’t hurt paying rent for your broke friend and not tell us about it. Or feed the poor and grace our social media with photos of how you went about it. We know you’re just doing it for the camera and for the masses to like you. Off the camera, you’ll be caught dead standing next to them, truth be told.

I used to cherish the days when people would have meaningful conversations and debates over things that mattered and those that didn’t too. When people would ask you how you are doing and feel okay to tell them that you’re not fine. That you are actually hurting. When they said they cared and actually meant it. And you’d feel safe unloading it all to them. Nowadays people can’t even cross the road to come say hello but will hire a fleet of buses to ferry his entire village to your funeral. Sad.

I would give anything, even my kidney (this shows how this is serious), to have back the days when true love was in the air. In the air because you wouldn’t spend an eternity looking for it. You also just wasn’t in it for fun. You paid dowry for your wife-to-be and you knew that what you were paying for is actually what you were getting. They really played us on the amount of bride price, though we’ll come back to that later. When an entire town wasn’t one big bedroom and everyone was everyone’s sister wife or Eskimo brother. When people actually took this dating thing serious. They weren’t lazy. They took time to know the other person and didn’t have commitment issues. Millennials will use the phrase “not being a keeper” to say exactly what I was saying.

I used to like a lot of things back then. But as the cliché goes, this is life, things change, people evolve and all that yada yada yada. Still, what in the name of fucks happened to us?

Over and out!

Sending love and light,

Teenky

LESSONS I WILL TEACH MY SONS.

Dear Teenklings, it’s yet another time we meet, virtually of course.

 If you’re reading this, then it means that you are alive, got the link to this piece, probably subscribed to my blog and therefore got the memo and definitely connected to the internet using whatever piece of device you count as your own. Once again, greetings.

For perspective, this piece is basically a letter to my future sons. Sons because my first baby was a male and there are some things I had wished to tell him when he learnt how to tie his shoes but sadly that’s never happening. Sons because the society has set really high standards for the boy-child and this has most of them living under pressure just to live up to them. Sons because toxic masculinity is a thing and coupled with patriarchy its really wasting our sons away. Sons because we have for the longest time now neglected the boy-child and only tended to the needs of the girl child. Though I understand that this has its back story but we strayed and its time we came back on track. We have empowered the girl-child and not prepared the boy-child on how to deal with the empowered girl-child. We need to empower both genders.

So, these are the things I will tell them:

Son, showing vulnerability is not a sign of weakness. My take on that? There’s beauty in vulnerability. Show your emotions without fearing to come off as too much.  Fall in love with what makes your heart flip and forget what the rest of the human species will say.

Son, being of the opposite gender doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t cry. The world will tell you that a man’s tears should never be seen. That you should cry with your tears flowing to your stomach. Whatever that means. They will tell you a lot of things, don’t listen to them. This is my word to you, that all humans are supposed to cry. It’s a biological process, it’s healthy, and it’s therapeutic. So cry over that lost relationship that you had invested your time, emotions and energy to see it work. Cry over that loved one that died.  And if this makes sense too, then cry over that spilt milk. I meant that literally.

Son, check your male privilege. By virtue of being born male, there are some things the society will give you and not your female counterpart. There are some things you will have easy in this lifetime and probably the next depending on if you’ll still be male. Nobody will dare suggest that you are having a bad day because you had a wet dream yesterday but for your sister? She’s tripping probably because she’s on her periods. As if that is the only way that people experience their periods. Or that you got raped because you wore a short. I have never heard of people asking what he was wearing when he got raped. So yes, you can walk around in briefs and nobody will think of committing such a heinous act on you. They will just think that you’ve gone bonkers. The most that you can get off with is getting arrested and charged with public indecency. Appreciate that and don’t take it for granted. You’re not superior to your wife, to your sister or even to your mother. It’s just that, male privilege.

Son, this thing called specific gender roles, I find it to be absolute trash. I believe there is only one role assigned to females and males and them alone and that is the power to carry life for nine fucking months and the ability to make a woman pregnant respectively. Not even technology can beat this. Back to my point, all the other chores can be done by anyone and everyone irrespective of gender. You’re supposed to cook, you’re supposed to wash and clean up after yourself. No sane mother would raise their daughter just to be your help.  My advice, toxic masculinity will have you believing stuff you shouldn’t believe in and doing things you shouldn’t be doing well simply because, toxic masculinity! So learn to take care of yourself and not wait for a woman to do so because it is your life and therefore your responsibility. Emancipate your mind from such thinking.

Son, whatever your sexual orientation, be at peace. It is okay not to be straight and still fine if you are. The LGBTQIAP community has been stigmatized and ostracized since time immemorial because they are regarded as monsters. They are not. They are our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers who didn’t choose to be born that way and even if they chose that, we all have free will. It is sad that the world still has a long way to go in accommodating them but they will catch up. Let that not dent your esteem. Besides, I’d rather have a gay child than a serial thief. Son, even if you are straight, don’t treat them like they are less of humans. Don’t judge them. Be their safe space. Champion for their rights and try make this world a better place for them. Let the world see them from a different angle. However little, believe you me, you’re doing the most. Queer lives matter, all lives matter!

Son, have dreams and ambitions. Set goals. Choose to dream big and work towards achieving them but don’t put too much pressure on yourself while at it. Otherwise what good will it be to have gained the whole world but can’t enjoy your fruits because you are six feet under? It might not always work out as you had planned but failure is part of life. Don’t beat yourself up about it. In that moment, sit still and reflect. Take a break and answers will come to you- they always do when you step away then start afresh, this time with a clear head.

Son, your health is paramount, treat it as such. Work out. Eat those fruits and vegetables. Have a self-care routine. Smile often. Dance when you can. Take a vacation. When you take a break to unwind, your body heals and you bounce back with a new bust of energy and confidence. Also, check your mental health.

Son, it is not okay to beat up a woman.

“We come from a woman, get our game from a woman and our name from a woman so why should we mistreat our women?”

 Heck, it is not right and there are no two ways about that. I understand you might have seen your uncle beating your aunt to pulp or your dad doing the same to your mom. His reason? She didn’t open the door fast enough. Again, you’ll have to pardon my wokeness but first that is not her work to stay home and wait to receive her husband once he returns. Don’t mix this up. It is not wrong to anxiously wait for your partners’ return and warmly welcome them but si y’all get my point here? Two, slapping your wife or raising your voice at her because she was one second late from unbolting the door doesn’t warrant a beating. That is violence and there is nothing that justifies violence of any kind or in whatever form. Be against it!  Choose to be different.

Son, your children are yours just as they are their mothers’. It takes two to tango, remember that. Choosing to abscond responsibility or decide to chip in whenever you feel like it is not an option. Your wife doesn’t have to kill herself simply because she has to put food on the table, clothe your children and at the same time pay fees. Take a keen interest in your children’s mental health not forgetting their general wellbeing. Be fully involved in matters their welfare. Create that bond with them. You don’t want them being misfits from having daddy issues later on in life.  So from me to you, you can never have a time out from parenthood. It is for life. Choose to be a better dad to your children for the world already has enough deadbeats.

Son, create meaningful relationships. Make lasting bonds with friends that you can discuss business deals with and not just drinking buddies. Not that am saying they are not good friends but at the end of the day, we need to be sure someone is in our corner when we need them. Ever heard of friends who went missing once one lost his/her well-paying job? Those are people not to keep close. Let your friends know their places in your life and vice versa. Have boundaries too. Strive to have friendships where you build each other up and not tear each other down. At times you might experience turbulence but such is life. Work on solving arising problems amicably and not throwing away good friendships because your bloated egos won’t allow you to take a backseat and do the ass-licking.

Finally, son you are not too much and you are not less, you’re enough. Heed my advice and hold on to these nuggets as you journey through life, and someday if the universe allows and you have a family of your own, then teach these to your children and them to their children.

Hope y’all enjoyed this piece.

Don’t forget to like, comment and share with your friends and your friends’ friends. Subscribe to my blog if you haven’t yet and let us edutain the world, one story at a time.

Sending love and light

  • Teenky

WHEN LOVE IS LOST.

I have been trying to wrap my head around this story and serve it to you my lovely Teenklings but I just wasn’t ready. Not ready because I didn’t want to talk about what had transpired. With myself or to anyone. Not ready because I hadn’t found peace. You see the thing with me, when confronted with an embarrassing or tough situation, my immediate response is to recoil into my shell and hide as I contemplate how to deal with it or simply pretend that the problem is imaginary therefore non-existent or even hope that it dies down on its own. What am trying to say is escape-ism is my defense-cum-coping mechanism. Simple! So I did what I do best and for the last several months was still trying to make peace with the fact that I was dumped. Yeah you read that right, my ex-boyfriend decided that I no longer tagged at his heartstrings so he called it off, whatever that was that we were having. You see, you can’t move on when you haven’t gotten closure. So l ask myself what did I do/ had been doing that led to the breakup? At times, a simple “love ran out” suffices. But in my case did it?

Maybe it’s because I didn’t protect myself enough to not get another bun in my oven. Or maybe I didn’t fight hard enough to keep our baby. Maybe he expected me to stand my ground and be a single mother AGAIN!! but I didn’t.

 Could it have been the fact that I overburdened him by nagging him about how he ought to help me raise Sean? PS: he wasn’t his daddy. And before y’all take his side, you need to get this simple fact: That when you choose to love a woman, you automatically assume to being the father to her mini-her(s) and therefore assume parental responsibilities to her child(ren). But wait, did he really help me with raising him because when I think of the times I asked him to let us cost-share when it came to his expenses (daycare, diapers, shopping and all) but he blatantly refused, I get all up in my feelings. But if providing company when he came over counts, then yes, he did raise my late son.

I digressed, but it was called for.

 So back to my what-ifs, might it have been that day I kept going on and on about my not-so-hot girlfriend? About how she made me happy, about how she really gets me, about how she provides good company considering that we were spending lots of time together, road-trips and all?  Not that we were exclusive and shit but maybe it got to him. But then again, si I thought he was okay with my sexual orientation?

Or he was just insecure because my gang gang consists mostly of his species? Lakini wangwana  si a fully-fledged human communicates? And for the time that we were each other’s cup of coffee, I didn’t find anything wrong with his head.  A few times maybe yes.

 Hol’up, it might have been because locking lips has never tickled my fancy and he prolly couldn’t live without exchanging saliva. Not that you start judging me and shit but heh there’s really loooots of bacteria in saliva. And because I love myself that much, I wouldn’t just go about kissing every person I came across.

Or is it the few times I strayed and came clean? (Looking back that was some dumb shit I did). Not that I justify cheating but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Come to think of it, he did too probably to get back at me but that was his issue not mine but I never constantly reminded him of it to a point of making him feel bad about it. I see you are about to come at me with that nonsense of men never forgive cheating but please, miss me with that bullshit!

Wait a minute folks! I think I cracked it. I cracked my own case.  Maybe I wasn’t even the problem. Maybe he simply couldn’t handle this bag of hot mess! (Insert Mignon Von’s voice)

Whatever was the case, I need to let bygones be bygones. It might be hard cause look at it this way, you’ve invested your time to loving this person for years, even forfeiting some things you loved because of this one person.

Adopting some of their mannerisms and learning their lingo.

 You go on ahead to learn your partners’ interests, dislikes and aligning those plus their goals to yours.

Having inside jokes. Creating couple traditions.

 Giving each other pet names to die for. Some even go ahead to having a “mini-they”. 

No longer spending time with your friends because this bag of bones now takes up your time to the point of living in their shadows. Tell me about it!

Dedicating most of your attention if not all of it to loving and caring for this one human being above the rest of his/her fellow species because you reason that your squad won’t give you head, (other circumstances notwithstanding) or make your toes curl during those moments of steamy sex while clutching at the bed sheets as if your kins’ lives depend on it.

 Putting aside some few coins to buy your partner some fancy shoes. Fancy otherwise why would they be having tons of screenshots of that one shoe filling up their phone gallery? Or anything. Not necessarily shoes.

 Or taking some money from your salo to take your partner for a weekend to the Mara with promises that once umeomoka The Maldives will be your sitting room. Huh! Jokes on you motherfucker.

Date nights. Evening walks. Picnics. Movie/Rave nights.

So why would you wake up one day and decide that you no longer feel something for your partner to the point of choosing to let go of the wonderful memories y’all shared? Not that am saying that you stay in that toxic/ abusive relationship but if things can be mended or ironed out by simply having a sit-down and talking it out, why not give your relationship another chance? Why let that wonderful person go? Why not try and spice it up if it’s that boring?

But above all, one question still bugs my mind, why did Munge choose to end it on a Sunday, on the day of our Lord?

BEARING THE UNBEARABLE.

There’s a common fallacy that everyone believes in. That bad stuff only happens to other people and never to them. Until that bad stuff strikes closer to home. I for the longest time had subscribed to that school of thought. Until I lost my two-year old son. That is when the reality that life is unfair dawns on you. You start to experience and see life using different lenses. It’s almost as if you’ve gone through this ritual and have come out a different person, only more hurt, and viewing life from a different angle. Funny how I have gotten to describing my life phases as: Pre-Sean & Post-Sean.

I had for a very long time postponed writing this piece because I was still learning how to go through life minus Sean. I am writing this so that anyone who is going through this stage of loss and grief can get to know that they are not alone, and that though am not their yet to finding closure, but that I can always find time to be there for them.

Grief and loss changes you. From the inside all the way to the outside. From that bubbly and talkative human being to being quiet, sullen and aloof. During the early days you might lose your sense of smell, taste, hearing, have blurry vision, appetite might decide to go to the dogs, and you might have partial amnesia heck or even behave like a retard! But all this is called for.

 If the mourning phase isn’t handled properly, you might lose yourself as grief will swallow you whole, not literally though. The most painful part about it all is that you won’t not even notice that you’re slowly by slowly going to the shits!

My advice to you, mourn your lost ones well even if it means crying bucketfuls to fill an ocean, but don’t drown in it. Cry yourself sore. Do what you got to do to avoid falling into regression later on. That shit is no joke. It’s akin to going haywire. I would not advocate for escape-ism as a coping mechanism because there is no running away from loss.

Surround yourself with friends, family and people who try to feel your pain and help you get through it. People who make you feel that they understand what you’re going through even if they can’t relate. People who make you feel that you’re loved and cared for. People who make you feel that you’re not alone. People who let you have your space and do what you have to do but at the same time not letting go of your hand. What am trying to say here is have a strong support system because I wasn’t lucky to have one.  Key word is strong.

Also, people are shitty, no cap. Once you understand this you will be able to get that that nonsense of “I/we are here for you in case you need a shoulder to lean on” and whatnot is pure balderdash. Total trash. Just formalities cause you know, it just had to be said.

Oh and PTSD and panic attacks (not everyone experiences this) will kick in like nobody’s business. Those are the moments you need to have your support system close to you. Hold yourself together. Don’t crumble under the weight of grief.

There will be nightmares, moments where you find yourself thinking of the memories you shared and even the fights/ bad days you had. You will cry. Please do so freely, it is part of the healing process. It goes without saying that time is the healer of even the deepest of wounds, I am not so sure about mine healing by passage of time. But I pray it does.

People will tell you things in a bid to help thinking they’re actually helping you but in real sense they’re only making it worse for you. They will say things like, “they’re in a better place”, “they’re dancing with the angels”, “legends never die”. My one question to people who say stuff like these. Where is that better place? How sure are you that they are in a better place? But it is just things that we console ourselves with that after we die we transition to a better place so that it becomes bearable for the bereaved to move forward. But for a flawed human being like me, a human being like me who has questions about God, about religion, about the existence of heaven and hell, who finds The Holy Book to have tons of loopholes.

If you can afford one, go on ahead and have yourself a therapist. This reminds me, S/o to my therapist Joe. Those people really know how to make you feel that loss is just another downhill in life and that moving forward is the best thing you can do to yourself.

You know that life mantra you’ve always lived by? Yes that one, remember it and live by it. Helps you get back when you’re almost forgetting who you are and what your purpose is. A friend recently reminded me this.

As earlier stated, one can’t move on from loss so you have to find ways to move forward with it.

One thing I have learnt from my son’s passing is that people do not give a shit about you so don’t live your life while relying on external validation so that you can be happy. It was barely two days since we laid him to rest but people were already acting as if it had been ages since he died. But life is for the living and the world didn’t for a moment stop orbiting its axis.

You will want the world to end on that day that you lose your dear one but it won’t. The sun will still rise from the East and go to bed in the West. The sun will in fact shine harshly on that day as if reminding you that you’re one in 7B people inhabiting this planet so why want that special treatment from the universe?

As if you haven’t had enough torture, you will even have suicidal thoughts but am here to remind you that God (or whichever Super Being you subscribe to) doesn’t give you something that He did not see you handling. That is what keeps me together!

My late son got to teach me lessons both when he was alive and even in death but I choose to share these three with you.

That kid lived in the moment, so should all of us. One day at a time. As young and tiny as he was, he already had a life mantra: Carpe Diem mfs!!

We don’t have much time. Heck we don’t even have any time so tell those ayayus to whoever needs to hear them, shoot your shots even if they’ll end up blank because what is the worst that can happen? Am sure it’s not death. Apply for that job even if you are feeling under qualified. Kiss that stranger. Go on that roadtrip. Couplings, you need to have yourselves a Bae-cation. Say sorry. Pee in that pool (just kidding).

Smile often. You wouldn’t miss a photo where he hadn’t gotten all his teeth out or most of it. To all those who interacted with him knew how jovial, bubbly and cheerful he was. He had a therapeutic laugh and an infectious smile. He sure loved life but sadly it didn’t love him back.

I won’t lie that am still dealing with my shit amongst tons of other shits but heck, am only human. I still can’t sleep with the lights off or alone in a room. I still can’t listen to his songs without picturing him busting killer moves or hearing his voice singing along. I still get my phone out to show random strangers photos of my son. Talking myself hoarse to whoever cares to listen about how unfair it was that he got almost everything from his father. From his tiny beautiful eyes, his bottle-top nose to his walking style. I still get teary when around baby boys. So am sorry not sorry if I can’t attend those kids birthday parties or hang out where there are kids. I know I will always see a child and try to imagine how tall he would have been or how cuter he would have grown. I used to refer to him as The Tokodi of his times. He was already turning heads at 2! Cute as a button? An understatement I say. Every 7th of September I’ll be eating a cupcake to celebrate his would-have-been birthday and imagine how he would have turned out.

I wished you had grown taller to understand the meaning of life or that coffee tasted better when you are in love kiddo. Wish you had stayed to ride in those cars that you drew.

But for the moment that you were around, you reminded me of who I was and taught me to a better human being to myself. You taught me never to sell myself short. You taught me to be a better mother to you, a better daughter, girlfriend, sibling and friend.

Cheers to the boy who gave me the title Mother! To the baby that was!

My only plea: It’s not that we are being needy and shit just because we ask you to understand us during such times. Grief shared is grief half dealt with. Let’s learn to hold our family/friends’ hands and not just provide shoulders to be leaned on.

Yes we will all die someday but I hold on to the thought that even death itself will meet its end someday!

 But before that, y’all need to get this: Life sucks. Everybody dies. Nothing is fair. And the oceans are full of garbage.

 Back to you in studio.