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Showing posts from March, 2017

When Talent Comes Knocking

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Photo credit:Internet By Charity Kuria “How did you discover talent?” A question was tossed to Gabriel Dinda the CEO of Writers Guild Kenya. He gave the simplest example ever.  “Suppose you are looking for a misplaced needle in the house. You could decide to ransack the whole place without any particular order with fewer chances of finding it and be sure to have a messy house.  Doesn’t sound appealing. So, why not clean up the place while you still looking for the lost needle? Fold up the clothes nicely. Clean the floor and dust the seats. You will surely find the needle and your house will be in order.” There is absolutely no better way to identify your talent than the above method. Keep doing what you do and do it nicely. This is opposed to just sitting still and racking hard on your brain trying to discover your talent. Gabriel hereby was advocating for doing other things such as work. Probably you are an accountant but have this soft spot for wri

This Serikali Saidia Syndrome

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Photo credit:Internet ByWakini Kuria There are no moments I enjoy most than having the remote control at hand, when someone starts talking of ‘ serikali saidia ’ even on instances where the government has no business. You know!  So your car broke down, serikali saidia , you are stuck in traffic, serikali saidia , so the kids are burning up schools? Serikali saidia, never mind that we are the same people who brought up the damn brats! Remember the old story of a boy who cried ‘oh leopard!’ until one day people got tired of his pranks and never responded to a real distress call. He ended up being the leopard’s meal. I wish you had an idea of just how many prank calls are received at customer care call centres on a daily basis. Now imagine the government being called to respond to pranks calls such as kids burning up schools, traffic jams, collapsing buildings and pouring of illicit liquor. It’s not that I am being careless. No! It’s in my opinion that we are s

A torment worse than your ordinary torment

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By Wakini Kuria When little I vividly remember the evenings when I would have pain on the legs and on the joints. Guka would bandage the foot and the pain would gradually subside. He was a clinical officer you see with a bias to children ailments. My mum, my angel and my rock has literally walked with me on this painful journey. She has carried me on her back to school and around the homestead when the pain got unbearable. She has watched helplessly as her once beautiful and normal daughter 's body gave in to deformity right under her nose. She has gone through all hospitals and religious doors in search of healing for her youngest daughter. She never once lost hope even to date. It took the doctors a long time to discover that I was suffering from arthritis which then was considered as 'ugonjwa ya wazee'  The torment was real as I writhed in bed while the joints got hot with pain, torment was written all over my mum's face whenever she saw p
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Our Homes Today

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By Charity Kuria Aki where did the ogre stories go? They used to entertain me so. Adventures of Thiga, The ogre with one eye, The giant & the pregnant woman etc were my favourites. What do children of today enjoy? Video games, internet, television etc. Ha! The heroes being Ben 10, Spiderman, Little Mermaid and the likes. Watching things visually doesn't stick in the mind like when reading. If you miss a part you can always re-read for in-depth understanding. When they want you to go sleep stories of cucu wa kweru would emerge, how darkness brought about dark creatures who ate up little disobedient children. Who would want to be eaten or have their ears chopped off? In an instant I would be snoring in another land. Today we've super active kids who are still jumping up and down even when the time clocks 12am. By this time the poor parent has tried any method applicable to get the minor to sleep. That includes promising tamus and a new bike kesho

The writings on my wall

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By Charity Kuria  Like it or not God is very much alive despite aims to diminish his mighty existence by the evil one. He will always fail you know! He works in mysterious ways and all you have to do is just call upon him on your knees and with an honest and clean heart. You achieve the above through thorough repentance, begging for cleansing of the mind, body and soul. We all want to be successful and happy. Don't we? The question then begs, Who is in your boat? Who are the people you walk with? What are their values and objectives? Are they the same as yours? The wise men say that the books you read and your kind of company determines who you become. Question 2. Who do you call in times of turbulence? Now this is when you know your true friends and the off loaders who will run in the opposite direction when things go south for you. But I've good news for you because God almighty will still pick your call even if you only reach out to him when hopeless

The streets of Githurai at night and during the day!

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By Charity Kuria Welcome to Githurai, the land of milk and honey since kitambo before the coming of Mr Googz. Remember na wasee tumetoka Githurai? Guess walihama . This is that place you walk wary of everything and anything. From pickpockets and drugging if not being ran over by the careless and ever in a hurry matatu drivers. They are ever rough if not rude. Thugs here don’t use force unnecessarily, you chat like old buddies as you had over your valuables. On rare cases they will brandish guns but hardly shoot, only when you prove to be too stubborn or too intelligent for your own good. Then the mitumba hawkers who will sell to you by force. Ladies here are most vulnerable. He will get hold of your arm saying ‘ Ni bure kuona na kupima ’ such are hawkers everywhere including Ngara. Well, need I say? The landlord will start a 6 storey building that he expects you to enter before it’s complete and start paying quickly so that he can pay that loan. Did I tell

Ladies at the gents

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By Charity Kuria  I joined the debate club for the sole purpose of gaining public speaking skills but mostly to fight stage fright, having had a double take on the public speaking class without much progress. So on this particular day, the debate club had attended a training forum at USIU courtesy of Kenya National Debate Council headed by one Josiah Adiema Adiema. We all agree that USIU is a posh higher learning institution. The workshop was held at the magnificent library where to access the facilities you had to swipe using the school ID. Being from a different institution our host put in a good word for us and hence could access the washrooms for instance. The training went on well and was soon over. We decided to tour the campus and perhaps grab a bite as it was already in the afternoon. You know how it is when you are a bunch of newbies and hating the idea of asking for directions. Cafeterias aren't hard to locate especially if hungry. Some of us had

Cousins Please...!

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By Charity Kuria What happened to togetherness? Well, it’s the festive season and now that guys don’t travel upcountry like before they will flood the beaches and Pwani has to acknowledge that watu wa bara wamefika kweli! More so now that Uber chopper has made flights quite affordable. Previously, before Sir Matiang’i (bless this man) came to their rescue, the poor children were rotating from school – tuition – and Naivasha or any other holiday destination. Please note, I’m not against these holidays but still they need to know of their origin, bond with grandma, grandpa and other village folks. Remember, this is where they polish their vernacular. This is where they get to know what it feels like to have a grandma not just by name. You know that kafeeling when grandma defends you from other cousins even if you are in the wrong? (Wink! wink!) Nothing beats that! Well, children of today hardly know each other, they meet once during those rare weddings and funeral

Cream always rises to the top

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Photo credit: Veronica's Cornucopia By Charity Kuria    Cream always rises to the top, Africa and specifically Kenya has really been delivered from primitive thinking that only people from ‘noble’ occupations could make ‘good’ politicians e.g. lawyers, businesspersons, teachers etc.  The story is very different today thanks to digitization of the mind we now have DJs for president, policemen who sing, pilots who are poets, cyclists who are doctors, bankers who write and so forth. Artists of today would say tumetoka far! We now have variety of occupations and I believe that someday Kenya will have a blogger for a president! Hahaha don’t throw stones yet, I am not done…! It's nice to know that anyone can make a living out of ‘nothing’. You just need to think outside the box and they say where there is a will there is a way. I hear stories of how back in the day, teachers were the most respected members of the society. I mean, they were literally fountains

On behalf of a mum

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  By Charity Kuria  I see him leaving in the morning and taking with him the children to school. They wave goodbye and promises to be home early. My sons ask me to prepare their favorite dish for supper which I religiously bid. After the household chores I set the kettle for boil and take it with me to my study where I do write-ups and update my blog(s) and later pay bills. By this time it's around 4pm and the children are bound to budge in any moment from no w.  Suddenly the otherwise tidy kitchen will be turned into a mess. Little energetic bodies will be chasing after pets and each other. The noise, laughter and tears will colour the evening. I'll somehow corner them to finish their homework with a few promises and threats here and there. Then bodies will start dropping snoring into another world. This is my favourite part of the day.  The wonder of this energy bundles of mine dropping limp with sleep. Carrying them upstairs to their room after

THE SMELL OF HOME

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By Charity Kuria The smell of home, Mama singing, A warm cup of tea with arrowroots, Sweet aroma shifting from the cooking pot, Its home. The smell of home, The light shines through the open window, A cool breeze blows into the living room, Smoke escapes from the kitchen roof into the blue sky, Its home. The smell of home, The bleating of goats, the crowing cockerel, Chirping birds, buzzing insects, Feeding the chickens and goats, Its home. The smell of home, Clean air feeding my lungs Clean water from the springs, Eating fresh spinach, fresh fruit from the farm, Its home. The smell of home, The smell of cattle dung, of smoke and of lighting jiko , The very green bushes, trees and flowers, Aesthetic beauty, Its ho me.

THIS SO CALLED GOSPEL INDUSTRY

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-Charity Kuria- Remember that story of the bride taking care of herself not to ruin or soil her gown before the groom arrived? What will happen to the bride once the groom (Jesus) comes only to find his bride dirty and undesirable? What's even worse is that the pastor helped in defiling the bride he ought to be guiding wait for the groom. Jameni , what will happen to the bride once the bridegroom leaves without her? What will be become of the bride when the bridegroom leaves her for another? It was once said that, at the end of times, there will be false preachers of the gospel. Is this it? The said end of times? Nowadays record has it that the preachers of the gospel has a dirtier linen to wash in public than their flock combined. These are the same people we (the flock) are supposed to look upon for guidance and counseling towards this journey to heaven. Am not for the idea that they should be crystal clean and perfect but something close. You wonder why

Uncontainable joy.

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Sheila, my niece -Charity Kuria- Sometimes I have difficulties believing that this is the same bundle of joy I found at home from school. I waited at the bedside for hours just so that she would open her eyes. She would smile and cry in her sleep looking so fragile that I feared hurting her, just by touching those chubby little fingers. She would stare at her hands hours on end that is if, they weren't stuffed in her mouth. She would then gift me with this to-die-for toothless grin. My heart would swell! This bundle of joy wrapped up in shawls that I feared would slip out of my arms unto the floor and hence someone had to practically place her carefully in my arms and while seated. Now, years later has turned into a bundle of uncontainable energy arousing emotions I never knew I had. I love her so much that she can (mis)use my make up all she cares and use up my data bundles sending to her mother WhatsApp emoji to infinity. She's now giving me orders a