Posted in My Tales

Ugali

sinhala-and-tamil-new-year-6

“Excuse me sir, could you show us how to make a respectable ugali?” A deep voice came from behind.  Everyone went silent as eyes tried to trace the person. A man stood from the far end. A bald head and a very thick mustache, from his physique you would mistake him for Apollo (Rocky). His deep voice did not match his question and thus the bewilderment.

“I’m sorry…”

“Morpheus”

“Yes, Morpheus, what exactly do you mean by respectable?” asked the speaker.

Morpheus adjusted his voice and changed his position of stand. Like hip hop rapper from the 70’s he explained.

“Respectable, as in ugali that is soft but not too soft with a sweat almost partially burnt smell oozing from it. Yellowish-brown almost burnt sides on the edge and in between the neatly shaped meal. What I mean sir, is ugali that would keep a marriage steady even with love gone”

With that the crowd burst into an uncontrollable laughter. The women looked the fellow with shocking expressions and eyes which screamed ‘who hurt you poor guy?’ The speaker, a reputable chef could not control himself as well.

**************

First time I cooked ugali was in shags. I had just finished my primary school national exam and decided to visit my favorite person in the world. I enjoyed time with my grandma. In some weird way I consider home to be wherever she is. So it was me, grandma and happiness, did I mention a lot of work?

One particular day in this moment, grandma had gone to the shamba to tend to her fields (she loves it) and I was left home alone with a boiling sufuria of water meant for ugali. When the water was ready, I ran out to call granny dear because I had not cooked ugali before. But in her cunning way she convinced me to start cooking, that she would join shortly to finish. I believed her.

Do you know how hard it is to cook on a three stoned jiko? Halfway through, I added the flour but it was too little and the ugly started spurting out like popcorn. Burns like candle wax only multiplied. So I added more flour but this time it was too much. While worrying about that, the fire went out and smoke had started filling the room.

So here I was, tears rolling out my eyes, sweating like a whale (do whales sweat? How would you know? Like, with them being in what and stuff… ) I wanted to give up, I was giving up. And just then, grandma came to the rescue. Boy was I relieved. The ugali was horrible, very horrible. It could break into pieces and flour would come out of it. It definitely wouldn’t keep a marriage anything. But grandma applauded me for being such a good cook…

So when Morpheus asked this delicate question, I too became attentive. I wanted to know how to cook good ugali.

stay tuned.

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Posted in My Thoughts

Benefactor

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Long before civilization, men with great authority and much depth in knowledge had already began talking about success and the works. Dating far into the chivalric era, the likes of Niccolo Machiavelli had already mastered the skill and began the decryption process for the rest. They say success is a function of one’s servanthood to others. In other words, successful people tend to strive in helping others more, it’s also a reward of hard work and many other impeccable attributes. But you already knew that, didn’t you? So I’m not going to talk about that. I’m going to tell you about me.

At age six we had to move due of unforeseeable alterations to life as I had come to know it. This meant a lot of things. First and probably the worst, I was to start on a new school. There’s no fun in being the new kid in school. I remember I cried stupidly as I was left behind in that strange place with all those strange people. I couldn’t take it. Situations made me abandon all my friend in another dimension and had to somehow make new ones here. Now that’s hard, even for grown-ups. I was in a new environment, in a new school and somehow normalcy denied me acquaintance. It was hard and overwhelming. This of cause impacted negatively in my performance, both academic and social. I became THAT kid.

In my class, we were always grouped according to previous academic performance and George had the first seat next to the teacher. I was fourth in front of the last person in the last row. Being brown in complexion and with a big nose I kind of stood out and somehow the teacher would point at me to answer only the difficult questions. Which, without disappointing, I always got wrong. It was as if she engineered, planned and executed my misery of a life. I ended up hating her. You don’t want to hate your teacher for whatever reason no matter how valid, because that won’t work in your favor. She got transferred.

Then one day a new teacher walked in. she was always flamboyantly dressed and had a warm smile. She didn’t know me, this was the perfect start over moment for me. It was like the heavens were working for me once again. I strived to impress my new teacher so much but you know, this things take time. I almost gave up and even thought at one point to claim comfort in my situation. I was hopeless.

In an English class, couple of days after I made a resolve to give up, she asked a question and the whole class didn’t know the answer. I wasn’t concentrating so didn’t even hear the question. “Yes, Bildad…” she called. I was so confused and she knew it, so she repeated the question. I didn’t want to look even more of a nitwit than I was so I mumbled something (I don’t remember what but I know I was so bloody wrong). She smiled, paused for a second and called me bright. Déjà vu right? But I’m no Ben Carson so relax.

She then made the whole class clap for me (they didn’t want to). She told us the correct answer and the class went on as usual. But not me, not my life. My spirit had changed in that instance. Everybody noticed me that day, even May talked to me that day (I still don’t know why). Long story short, on the next class arrangement, I was sitting on the first row directly behind George with two pupils in front of me.

The end.

So what happened? I’ll tell you what, Madam Faith happened. Her simple gesture made me overcome my shit. Her move to make the class appreciate me for being wrong made me want to be right henceforth. I looked forward to impress her and at least get a compliment from her. This of cause made me read more and with that my performance improved. Suddenly I was among the best pupils and that made sense. She made me. I’ve not seen her since primary three. I doubt I will. But God Bless you Ma’am.

Success might be all that you’ve heard and read or even more, but you need someone to achieve it. You always do. There’s this song that goes, no man is an island…no man stands alone… it speaks. See everybody has someone out there, a benefactor of some sought. Someone to either put them in the right path or hold their hand all the way. Mine back then was madam Faith. She made me embrace books and love it. Your greatness is tied to someone else out there, and it’s your duty to find them.

Without Merlin to forge the Excalibur for the great King Arthur, we wouldn’t have known about him. He would have just been one king who lived.

Without John Piermont Morgan to fund Thomas Edison’s project I doubt very much we would be where we are now.

Without Goliath to slay, David would be just another short person herding his father’s flock.

Some people are lucky to have their ‘someone’ double up as their life partners. Hence the say, behind every successful man theirs a woman. That’s why the first man was made for a companion.

Then here’s the twist. You are also someone’s someone in this big universe. You have a duty (I believe) to assist someone in their path of success. It might be a word you have to say to them, maybe a smile or just few coins. So you can be as stoic as you so desire but truth is there is no fun in that. You need help, everyone does so go out there, get yourself helped and in return carry it forward. The world would be a better place.

Incase all this is confusing, here’s a summary: – you cannot succeed alone, you shouldn’t brook with failure, you shouldn’t deny others help.

 

 

Posted in How to

Make that CV shine

oficina-curriculo-dicas-entrevistas-emprego-noticiasCouple of months ago I was to apply for Andela Fellowship, but that needed me to have a curriculum vitae. So I went back to my communication skills classes and whipped up a two page summary of myself and went ahead. Apart from the Andela application, I used the same document to try score some jobs but that also didn’t quite work out as most tries didn’t even come back with responses. I knew something was wrong, so I sought for some assistance from my lovely cousin Rosie. [Asking is free, don’t suffer alone]. She not only helped me come up with an awesome vita but also schooled me on its importance. See your CV has only one job and that is to get you THAT job. (You gonna have to read that slowly. Sounds cooler). I promised myself I wouldn’t do a how to article but, been breaking lots of promises lately so I figured why not add to the pile. Here’s how to make your CV the bomb!

  1. Be clear and Organized

Every job market is flooded this days, competition is too high which means you are definitely not the only one looking for a job and most certainly not the only qualified candidate. Employers are not going to go through all the applications and even if one would they will only consider the ones that are catchy, and that is your goal. Most will run a scan on your CV from top down in a quick second and only read it in depth if something catches their eyes. The appearance that is. It’s like marking a composition of a primary school kid. If they have good handwriting you will read with joy, otherwise you’ll just award some cooked up marks. You want yours to be well structured with clear headings and good spacing. Make use of the whitespaces.

 

  1. Be neat and concise

Your vita is not a novel so don’t go telling people about that trophy you won in kindergarten for singing baba black ship. Summary is a skill and if you can encapsulate your whole life in a three page document, bravo! This is why we love (d) twitter 140 characters before yesterday. Twitter teaches people to be make sense without making noise with unnecessary long text. So join twitter and learn. You have to be neat as well. First don’t use Times New Roman to write a CV, that’s just wrong and unprofessional in many levels. Second, don’t underline or bold or capitalize your subheadings.

 

 

  1. Do not be to embellish

Remember I said it has to stand out? For that, you will have to give it life. Give your headings a color, maybe blue or grey. Under no circumstance should you use red or yellow or orange or any other shouting color. That be just sad and too far. No one will take you serious with something like that.

  1. Follow a particular chronology

People like order, so try as much as possible to flow with the details. You wanna make the person reading your document easy time. Things like work experience, education, you wanna list them in order of precedence.

 

  1. Give priority to your contacts and experience

Your contact information should be on top of your document. Easy to read, easy to find just in case lady luck decides you need to contacted. Also you want to emphasize more on your experiences. If its attachments, state clearly what your duties were and if at all there was an achievement earned. Your experience is what interest the recruiter more than anything else.

 

  1. Avoid unnecessary information

Totally desist from putting curriculum vitae at the top of the document. You’re not fooling anybody. Do not put name in front of your name

Like this …

NAME: Person X

AGE: Age X

It’s immature.

 

  1. Precise

You’re trying to sell yourself so try as much as possible to lay down your skills and prowess. You want to mention that which you think they need and should be willing to pay for. But in doing so, also remember to be relevant. Try and horn particular skill sets that are required for the job in pursuit. You can’t go telling the recruiter that you are a great cook when you want to work in the IT department! Focus!

Parting shot!

Since I’m not really good at this, I’ll stop there. I think this few tips will make your CV scream your name in obedience to you wherever you send it. And it may probably not end up in the trash can or the trash folder on someone’s desktop machine. A reminder though, I’m not a professional CV writer (if there’s such a thing) and neither am I an expert in all this. I don’t even know if I’m making sense here at all but just in case it helps, you’re welcome.

Oh, and there are lots of CV layouts in the internet that would do you good too. It won’t also hurt to say if you feel your CV need a touch up or something, email me and at a small fee we can work something out. Ama namna gani?

Posted in My Tales

frozen yogurt

 

pyoyo

My phone rang. On the other end was a lady. So I fixed my voice and awoke the deep bass voice, tried to be normal about it. She had a calm-confident voice like Oprah Winfrey. I haven’t heard Oprah speak off camera to actually know her calm-confidence voice but its where my mind takes me when I think of confident women. We exchange salutations then she, after few awkward talks says she was just saying hi. I wanted to play the ‘who gave you my number’ card on her but I figured that would be me pushing my luck too far. Someone on their own volition took their time, called me and just to say hi, it doesn’t get any luckier, besides, what more can a man ask for? So I hung up.

I was really pumped up by the strange call and the mystery lady, so the following day I decided to after a long ponder on what and how to text her. I ended up saying ‘hi’ because what else was I going to say? She replied almost immediately as if she was expecting it. We talk a little bit too much and before long we were planning world domination. Ok that was too far. We didn’t actually get there. Not until our third chat where she said “I really like you”. Am single no more, I thought. We scheduled a meet at the mall and had frozen yogurt. I paid for that shit, I also got her uber later on. Myself I haven’t ever done uber. I wanted to cry when she tapped too much but hey, what’s a gentleman if not cool calm and collected right?

See clever people say that we always see our nose but our brain chooses to ignore it. This has been used in many occasions to advice and encourage people on many spheres of life’s challenges. Other times it’s just through around to show guys that you know something about the nose and the brain, like now. But unfortunately, I don’t know about the brain, I’ve never seen it, I only believe I have one. The human body is a big mystery. Scientist have tried to make sense of it all but not fully I reckon. Science can says we have a brain but doesn’t explain how the brain came to being, it says we have a heart but how? You cannot understand the ways of God let alone explain it. But hey, because of science we know we have a brain, that’s gotta count, right?

Like brain, the heart is unexplainable. One organ that pumps blood all day everyday (unless your body is subjected to cryogenics which is still practically impossible and you’d die!). They say you love with the heart too. How? Who knows man, it just happens. The heart also chooses to interpret reality as it suits it. That’s why he will beat her up every day but she will always defend him saying he’s a good man and such. It’s the heart. The heart chooses to see the good and ignore the beatings. I realized after the party that my heart was operating in the same angle. But to fair, she led me on.

She invited me to a party hosted by her friend. I arrived late because that’s the right thing to do. Why the hell would you go early to someone’s party anyway? Everyone was already there apart from the ones who were not. She ushered me in and squeezed me a spot next to her. We drank water, ate lots of food and talked. We talked and laughed a lot. And every time she laughed she’d lean on me or slap my shoulders. I thought, how is she finding me funny? Is she pretending or it’s the water (it’s actually water we drank, don’t go putting alcohol near this story). Then it clicked! They say if she laughs at every one of your jokes then she’s the one. So I figured I found her.

She held my plate as I went to receive a call. Mama Dearest wanted to check on her adorable son (me) because she missed me. Ha-ha, hell no! Mama wanted the keys to the digs because Jemo had stepped out and was not picking his calls. I was not ready to leave so I texted Mama that I was on my way home, then switched off the phone. I lied. I went back in and picked up the conversation somewhere close to where we had left it. Soon people started leaving and we remained fewer in the room. I thought to myself, “This is it”. Sometimes fate works in our wind and those times you pull down your sails and let it ride along. I was about to do just that when her phone rung. I thought, maybe it’s the folks or one of the Bff’s. She picked it

Hello babe,

Then the shock happened. The one people keep saying. A sharp chill ran down my spine? That shit happened to me man and it wasn’t pretty. Couple of seconds later I calmed myself. When she said the previous day that she liked me, I felt that thing. My heart saw a lady who likes me, my mind was already planning a future and now this? What was this…

“I love you too”, then she hang up!

The rest of the conversation wasn’t so easy. I kept trying to figure out if the person on call was her boyfriend or just a friend. Because girls have this habit of using the words babe and I love you too quite loosely. I was in doubt and I was starting to miss my mama so I switched my phone back on, no calls. We eventually left after she got a text. We walked holding each other to the main road. I had had enough talks for the day and resorted to doing what men never do, listen to women talk! We got to the road and a red vits packed up ahead. She rushed a hug and said bye. I thought, why is she in a hurry? Then it downed on me, the man driving the vits was her ride. I was left by the roadside man. Later that evening she texted me

Hey, I had a good time. You’re really fun. Paul says hi…I think you two would make good friends.

Who’s Paul?

My boyfriend…

I didn’t text her back man. I wish I knew who gave her my number, they’d have some questions to answer. Hey bill, did you give anyone my number?

 

***********************************************

At this point of the story I was laughing so hard my left lung hurt. I know, I’m a terrible person but wouldn’t you laugh too? I later told him to take it easy and life wasn’t over yet (me trying to be supportive). Funnily I was a certified counselor and was an official in the guidance and counselling team back in Kisumu Boys. Apparently, people were supposed to come to me with their life troubles and suicidal thoughts and I would in turn listen and tell them nothing other than suck it up. No one ever came to me if you are worried. Have you met boys in that school?

Sometimes ladies don’t like like like you, they just like you! Don’t try make sense of that….

 

 

Posted in My Tales

Koch

80-20_rule

Turns out there was a wayward kid who caused trouble all the time. He was eventually expelled from school and life forced him to get a job. He was lucky to find a clerical job which paid ok and yeah. But unfortunately, the job was boring and we all know when shit is boring time freezes. So he decided to read science magazines on his ‘boring work hours’ and eventually developed a passion for science. The boy here is Albert Einstein, but that’s a story for another day…

Here’s todays story,

It would surprise you to know that results are usually effected or affected by the minority. Contrary to the popular notion that maximum effort begets maximum results, which may as well be true, but who really knows this things? I happen to have noticed a book by Richard Roch dubbed The 80/20 Principle and thought to myself, what if this is what someone out there need to know about? What if am the one to deliver it to them? And so I decided to write something on it. I hope you learn.

A while back, my good lecturer and a mentor pitched me the theory of ‘principle of least effort’ and at first I thought, well it’s just one of the many theories out there. What I did not know but now know, is that it works. The least effort principle is but a glimpse on the Pareto law or in this case, the 80/20 principle. Vilfredo Pareto was an economist who sought out to study the patterns of success attributed to systematic implications. He went ahead to find out that the whole system is imbalance, hence the 80/20 thing. It was only right to name the discovery after him.

So what is the 80/20 principle?

According to the book, it is scientific law which says in essence that 80 percent of results or output come from only 20 percent of causes or effort. And it has been proven to work in business and economics time and again. It implies that most of anything done is attributed to the few in a group. The minority resources enforce the majority output. According to me, it’s just an awesome theory that I’d like to try. But here’s the whole picture first.

In a semester, you have say, six units. In this units you have say two which you are really good at and you would perform exponentially without even trying. When the examinations are carried out, in most cases you would score average marks on the other four units and higher marks on the two. They are what we call boosters. In compilation of totals, the average marks are equally high and the grade thereafter is a welcomed one right? See this is majorly a contribution of the two subjects with high score. Two here being the minority number. We getting somewhere?

Another is an insurance company. They probably have a lot of clientele ranging from private car owners (usually the majority) to public transport companies. The car owners may decide to insure one or two cars at most three. The public transport companies who are usually minority in number, usually insure more than fifty vehicles which if my math is right, would bring the chunk of the business. Which means more attention is diverted to them. You don’t want to lose your business.

See this is no call for laziness of any kind, rather one for smartness. Many a times you’ve probably heard or been told to work hard and blah blah. It’s never only about hard work sometimes. I’m not saying don’t listen to such voices but the smart thing to do is to be smart. Reading from Donald Trump’s school of thought, hard work is overrated. Working smart means diverting most of your effort to what you are good at. Be it that subject, that business, that talent. You perfect your strengths, you devour your weaknesses. This is a simple strategy and as Sun Tzu says, a great conqueror needs a good strategy. Time is important, when used wisely its productive.

My pitch!

Time is a gentle God – Sophocles

We waste out time often dwelling in matters that are neither here or there. They might be matters found or considered important but in reality they are not. In life it’s very rare for one to not know what is really of importance in their lives. But we’d rather please the universe and society acclaimed pedestal for certain situations that we don’t consider the minor things. Brother Abok used to shout at us ever so often on the assembly grounds ‘take care of the little foxes, the little foxes which spoil the vineyard’, makes sense every day. In as much as the minor things can bring and often do bring majority outcome, the same can be contrary. The small things can also lead to major distraction or loss therein.

The owner of KFC (example for everything) spent majority of his lifetime doing a job he didn’t like and earning very mediocre wages. He retired and was left with nothing to show of. But, the remaining years of his life he focused on his passion, his strength and came up with the best chicken recipe which resulted to an international brand. Its’ no coincidence.

So you there, focus is good. But focus on the price. Focus on what is good for you. Savvy? I hope I made sense here. Bye!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in My Tales

we are done

break-up

Relationships are so complicated. They bring pain and joy and a lot of mess along with it. I know this how? Well back in kindergarten, I had a girlfriend and we were seriously going steady. I was the cool guy in school who wielded power and so it made sense for me to have princess (no her name, I never really got around to knowing her name, being in one class and all, I might have known it at some point but forgot it. Her dad used to call her princess just after dropping her to school so everybody got on board with the princess business.) Did I mention I was so powerful I decided who went on the swing and who didn’t?(I know I don’t look like it right now but…) and I also had a pencil with an eraser on the other end which was a big deal back then.

Princess was a tiny little pretty girl with the cutest teeth gap ever and dimples to go with it. Dimples are magic! She knew English more than the rest of us, considering she was the richest kid in school and her dad was white. She had a smooth skin and her clothes could easily render your olfactory modality dysfunctional. She had a nice scar on her left thigh courtesy of yours truly. Also she was the only girl with plaited hair and had a pet. We all know everyone with a pet is a princess right? (I’m kidding). We did most everything together. Things like eating her lunch and so on. Fast forward to my point. There was this one time a couple of kids were picking on her. Being the good boyfriend I sought to defend her. I engaged the other kid in a good fist fight or whatever the hell kind of fight we had, pretty sure those were not fists. But that was one of the many mistakes I’ve ever done. A couple of boys from nowhere came at me to defend the poor chap I was working on. They beat me so much I wanted to cry and pee at the same time (I think I did). Even girls beat me up that day.

Lesson: you might have all the power but when people are fed up, they are fed up and people together? You can’t win against that.

Anyway, a teacher came to my rescue, boy must I have been so glad to see her. Princess was crying for me at this point. My pains were dressed with a cup of juice and the other boys got punished (because who beats up a poor boy whose only mistake is defending his girlfriend?). Point? My relationship with princess got me beaten up like a dog and I lost power, pain. But it also made her love me even more (or whatever was going on between us), I was her hero (I think), joy. And I guess the messed up part is the fact that we were five years old and in love.

But that’s not the story here….

Penelope, not her real name but let’s call her that. I figured it’s a name you’d give a fat beautiful lady with lovely legs and an amazing soul. Before you say anything, she is indeed fat and she doesn’t mind being called fat, unlike some who consider the word an insult. Penelope broke up with her guy. I was listening to one of Sauti Sols jam. It went something like, ‘we can fall in love again…’and it just so happened that at that moment and time I was going through my WhatsApp, catching up on conversations and stuff. That’s when I saw the stories with harsh and bitter captions. Normally, she would put up Mr. Guy’s three or four pictures and write some really sweat captions on them. Not this time. And

Because I’m such an idiot (an idiot who cares), I asked her what was wrong. I wish I didn’t because now I’m writing about it. Penelope told me too much. Then because I’m poor at consoling broken hearts, all I did was encourage her to say more. She said “That broke ass dude broke up with me on a text! Who does that? Cant he be man enough and say it to my face? After all I’ve done for him” Mr. Guy, if you are reading this thank angels you did not dare do it to her face, she’d kill you this one, literally.

Because I’m so insensitive, the only part of that story that intrigued me was the break up text. I asked for the screenshots and now I’m depressed.

Now here’s why I wrote this.

Complicated as relationships are, which they should otherwise where’s the fun? I believe they are worth it. When a man is romancing a lady, he goes out of his way. He borrows that car and take her out somewhere tranquil and say all the right words. He’d even write a poem or sing a song, I know I would. Because effort is important. Effort is required. A lady the same. They borrow dresses and shoes and all that lady-look-good-stuff. Process is good

I think break ups too should be done with more effort (I know, I sound crazy). Break ups either break you or make you or to the extreme, they destroy you which means they are an important event. I think they should be done properly. If it were up to me I’d write a letter and it would be the stuff of museums. It would be lovely but not too lovely. A bit serious but not too serious, it would have life and reasons with why’s and the works. I’d make it so reasonable that after she reads it we still remain friends no, besties. Who limits a breakup with a simple ‘we are done’ text? That’s not even right. Effort! You wanna brake someone’s heart at least try and do it right

Princess if you are out there reading this, I still fight for you.

 

 

Posted in My Tales

New strength

1
i’m the other guy

Growing up was not a bed of roses. In fact it was as tough as they come. ‘Work hard and make your own butter’ is what they used to tell some us, hell, most primary school motto was hard work pays (pssssssss!). Not like making butter was our main goal in life or that we even paid attention to such. Living in the ghetto is no easy task. Fights broke out almost every day, people bleed for everything. Ranging from territory to girlfriends to small pettifoggery and such. From the young to the old, even ladies fought for something (mostly men). It was a perfect real life way of saying survival for the fittest. Everyone was ready and able to fight, or go down honorably. I wasn’t ready to lose a fight if it came to that so when I heard that freshmen were being recruited for karate classes, you bet your ass I was the first to join. Every 4 o’clock we’d meet up, punch the air, make some really scary noises or shouts (I don’t know which it was), did a lot of pushups which left us weak and finally, the good part, seek a worthy adversary to ‘ngara nayo’. Most of us gave up after some time, I was the first. Long story paragraphed, inasmuch as it was a real bitch of a life, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I was going home the other day. It was late and dark, people had retired to bed or bar. See I fear very few things, meeting Mia Khalifa , death by cockroaches (if you’ve watched the mummy you’ll get the picture. Not the latest mummy remake by Tom Cruise, I’m talking about the real mummy, the bald dude who opens his mouth and cockroaches come out…)  I’m still working on my other fears. Anyway there were footsteps behind me and darn was my heart racing so fast. The footsteps increased in tempo successively as I tried to look scared whilst terrified. I wanted to look back but, hey you don’t wanna spook them, you don’t want them to know you’re onto them. So I kept it cool and tried whistling a hum under my breath and change my walking style. At this time I’m trying very hard to recall my karate class lesson and the dangerous shouts. I’m pretty sure if Mr. Oketch saw me right then, he’d be very disappointed. I ran every scenario in my head and decide that if I was going down, I was taking a tooth with me. Part of me wanted to run but you know…

I stopped right ahead and was ready to fight. Imagine my shock when a small kid came walking towards me. I bet she was eight or something. She reached near me and looked at me with the most grateful eyes ever. She was scared but glad to see me. And I was terrified. And was ready to punch her nose. She didn’t talk to me but her eyes did. So I walked behind her till she reached her place then I went my way.

Fear is a great thing. A weapon? I don’t know, maybe. But one thing is for sure, fear keeps us going. Most people think being brave is everything. Being macho is some sought of high pedestal. But I found a new pedestal. Its fear driven. Picture this, if one doesn’t want to fail, in studies, in life…they prepare. They read and stuff like that. So fear of failure makes one read which in turn makes them not fail (most cases). Fear of death makes one take care of themselves. Back in form one, there was this tall guy, Weba, he was a fourth year and very scary. I didn’t want to get on his bad side ever. I once saw him slap someone so hard the whole class went silent, the boy didn’t even squeeze a tear or two. He just stood there absentmindedly. So when Weba came one time and asked me to buy him a mandazi, I bought him four. When he came looking for a calculator I ran to him with one (I never got it back until he sat his papers). I feared him so much I didn’t want his anger near me. So I made it my business to provide. Big picture, with all those deeds, I bought my protection. No fourth year ever bullied of harass me. Not that Weba even knew my name, being seen with him was all it took. Point is, my fear for him got me protection! So fear is good.

It’s been a while since I wrote something so I thought I scribble this and tell you about fear. Tell you that fear is allowed. That if you tried bravery and it never worked, it’s about time you feared something. Right? Good answer.

P/S

For those asking, I’m ok. Nothing bad happened to me. As to why I’ve been missing in action, well I don’t really have a good answer for that. I’ll try make an effort to do something for this blog at least once a week. Thanks for the support.