Like A Child

Been a while. I guess like in everything, there are seasons. Seasons where I am itching to write and seasons where I struggle to. I hope you have been keeping well.

This morning Sonny proudly brings to my attention that he has broken wind. He even gave me his score, “Mommy, I just made three farts.” I say I know. How? He asks. It’s in the air, I tell him. I further say to him that this is not information we share publicly, that you should not even do this in the midst of people. The things I have to teach him; do not fart in class, excuse yourself, chew with your mouth closed, wipe your bum properly… I digress.

He looks at me puzzled. “But mommy, I do not like to keep secrets” he says. I am struck by this simple uncomplicated thinking. In that instance, I want to be a child. That my biggest worry would be that I have broken wind and I need to own up. So innocent. So curious too. Take for instance some questions he asks:

Him: Have you ever finished 500 kilograms of doughnuts?

Me: First of all how do you come up with this? But no, I have never finished 500 kgs of doughnuts. I cannot even figure out how we would carry them from the bakery and where we would keep them in the house.

Him:When we all go to heaven, who will remain here on earth?

Me: I honestly don’t know papa. My understanding is there will be no earth left.

Him: In church they said we came from soil. But I was in your stomach?

Me: Thinking to myself, how do I start, from Adam, Eve to him?… I do not know how to simplify.

Him: That is a half moon mommy. Where is the other half?

Me: I have a headache

I think we need to learn how to simplify, we make things hard for ourselves plenty if not all the time. Probably till when we get old, that age where we simply do not give a hoot about peoples thoughts or views of us. Let us remember, man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play. Heraclitus. Now trust me, I am completey aware that as adults we have to make desicions, tough choices. But even as we are making these, let us not overthink. It is from mistakes that we learn.

Speaking of play, Djasiri like any other child, loves to play. He plays with kids from the various regions of this country and outside of it, at home, in school, in church, kids he meets in the mall, in a hotel, by the road. He does not stop to ask them, where do you come from? He does know there are different tribes. He however does not know anything about hating because of differences in tribe. They are just his friends. The only difference he is aware of is gender. And this is limited to the fact that there are girls and boys. Because they are taught to use different bathrooms. He is not even aware of the different anatomy. He thinks I stand while peeing. You should see him urging me to stand next to him and pee, that he does not mind sharing.

What is this nonsense adults have, that this one is from this part of Kenya and I am from this other one and therefore, solely by this fact, I hate them? I tell someone my name and they say no, I am asking for your second name. I am floored. I am disgusted. I am angered, especially by those parents who are teaching their children this hate.

Some of us have heard of weddings being cancelled because one party cannot see how their son/ daughter would skip all these tribes and land at the only one that they cannot agree to marry him/ her off to. Parents, whose happiness are you focusing on here? You do not understand, you might be saying to me. You are right. I do not understand. I am convinced there are bigger things you should worry about; a persons values, character, for instance. They could be from your tribe of choice but they are mean, disrespectful, violent. You would rather this?

The amout of hate going around is beyond me. I read comments in social media and cannot comprehend if some of us are thinking at all when responding. That we can manage to miss the point of the post, a blood appeal for instance, and focus on this persons tribe instead.

Is there hope? Can we learn something from our children? May God help us.



Couple of Sundays ago. We are at the security check getting into church when I realise I forgot to give Djasiri his back pack. It contains his bible, a notebook and pencil. For a moment I consider not mentioning, it will hit him when he lands in class as the other kids are scribbling away and all he can do is fiddle with his fingers. But I am in church, I know God is omnipresent, I figure He is more present here, it is in my best interest to own up.

So I act like I just realized and say, darling, we forgot your bag. We. I am including him in this most definitely, he too could have remembered, he is all of six years, surely that should also be his responsibility, yes? Then comes the kicker, “but mommies are supposed to be smart, how can you forget?” I know, the nerve. There are too many witnesses for the kind of response I have in mind, we will address this later.

He survives the lesson minus his tools and on the way home I cannot resist displaying to him that this mum is smart, more than he can comprehend. I not only know how many zeros one million has, I even know how many a trillion has! That gets him, hahaha. I also remind him that he did not know how to hold a spoon until yours truly taught him. You think i am overreacting? Come on, I could have gone on and on on things i have taught him.

Couple of Mondays ago, I started working for a different outfit. It has been a really great time, settling in. But it is change none the less. I am still getting my bearings. My system is adjusting. Explains my absence here for a while too. Done so many trainings, my spare time is spent regurgitating this information.

There are times that, at my new place of work, I feel inadequate, like i felt when i forgot my sons bag at home. When you are a rookie and you need to do mundane things like go for a number one, or even a number two – nerves can make your bowels get a mind of their own, your hormones go haywire- you will need to ask for directions to the bathroom. You get lost in the corridors, you are meeting so many new people you develop new appreciation for name tags since you can barely remember your name let alone theirs. It is very humbling admitting that I do not know, because only then can I ask and learn.

Being a mother has a way of making me feel like it is my first day of work at times too. But as someone mentioned to me, and I think this is applicable to everything we do, you trudge on irrespective, and it works in the end. Keep working, keep striving to be better.

In the words of one of my favorites,Osho: Go on seeking, searching, finding. There may be many errors, but there is no other way to grow. Trial and error is the only way. By and by, you go on eliminating the errors. Less and less errors happen and more and more purity becomes available. Don’t stop in the middle.

We are going to the polls tomorrow Tuesday. I urge all of us to go and vote. It is our responsibility. Not voting is not a protest, it is giving up.

Lets us all be instruments of peace.

Love and love, Vicky.

Easter messages and Quitting

It’s Easter and with all the colored eggs and bunny decorations, I am reminded of when same time last year we were at this hotel and they had colored boiled eggs at the breakfast buffet. Djasiri totally refused to eat them saying he wanted the normal colored ones. I wonder to myself why Easter decorations are about bunnies, colored eggs and chocolate. So I find out. 

Very briefly, the tradition has it’s roots in medieval times. Bunnies were seen as symbols of fertility. Aristotle actually proposed and correctly so, that rabbits could get pregnant while they were already pregnant! They were also believed to be hermaphroditic and therefore capable of virgin births. Thus the association with the Virgin Mary. Eggs represent new life. Chocolate, because it’s end of lent, time to indulge. 

I love funny Easter messages, the conventional ones too, but the funny ones most. I actually like sending these messages for any occasion; birthdays, anniversaries, congratulations, name them, but I learnt it’s not for everyone. Last year Christmas, I sent one unconventional one that I found so funny I was laughing so hard tearing up as I sent it to this group I am in on whatsapp. It fell flat on it’s back. People don’t get humor? Or are we so used to ethnic jokes we can’t see past them? I sometimes get messages that are alike and I wonder, are we lazy to just get/ compose a message with a specific person in mind and send it to them? At times you can actually guess that this person got the same message a mutual friend sent to both of you. They then forward it to you and their entire contact list. Do they then they sit content that they have wished all  a Happy Easter for instance? Well, technically they have, but with zero thought other than for it to be said they sent a message, I think. 

Djasiri found his way to my room and bed Easter Friday and Saturday night. Sunday I am ripe to kick him out. He wants to share a pillow, breath right into my face. It also takes him longer to fall asleep because he starts playing; put his fingers in my nostrils, wants to count my teeth, hug me so tight chocking me till I tap out and admit to him I felt pain. When I tell him to keep his voice low, he starts whispering. Then he sings me a lullaby because I am being a baby, wanting to sleep. I can’t help laugh and that fuels him to keep going. I love him, more than anything on this earth and it’s tons of fun, but he had to go. I need to get some sleep so I am functioning next day. He also had to go because I was doing a pre shampoo on my natural hair. Pre poo, I learnt, while attending a cocktail no less, is preparing your hair before a wash so it’s not stripped of oils and remains moisturized. I use coconut oil which smells to the high heavens. You most certainly do not want to share a bed with someone who will most likely pull of your headscarf.

It’s very early Monday morning as I write this. 4:30a.m. Ok, maybe just early. It’s a holiday after all, I would have wanted to sleep in a bit. I found myself thinking about something I read on Twitter, on five things we should quit this week. I was also dying for a cup of fresh ginger black tea. I am addicted to it. I have taken this cuppa at all imaginable hours of the day and night. 

So, the five things to quit:

  1. Trying to please everyone

This I have done a good job at quitting, albeit not too long ago. I learnt, eventually, which is what matters I think, that it is not my job to make myself likable. It is my job to just be myself. Besides, it is impossible to please everyone.

2. Fearing change

This I am battling with. Fear of change within myself, how will it affect everyone and everything else around me, will it work, can I live with the consequences? And so so many more questions. I rest in the fact that, I effected the changes because I learnt enough that I wanted to. Also because I was hurting so bad I had to.

I continuously encourage myself with the words of Christopher Columbus “You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore”. One step at a time.

3. Living in the past

Work in progress. I miss some things in my past, but, and I am most certainly convinced, I do not want them back. I however miss some things and I do want them back.

4. Putting yourself down

Once in a while yes. But I have forgiven myself of mistakes I have done. I am also aware of and therefore catch myself when I start comparing myself to other people. Affirmation, affirmation.

5. Over thinking

I have been doing this a lot lately. I am not proud of myself, thinking about something/ someone too much, for far too long. I am quitting, immediately.

The battle to conquer self continues. All the best with yours. Wish you a great week. 

XO, Vicky


It’s Sunday evening and I am spent. Djasiri is serving me a krabby patty, only it’s the sofa cushion. The name of the game is make believe. I have to not only eat it, but also enjoy it, make conversation, you know, the way you do in a restaurant.

The krabby patty is served at krasty krab restaurant, in SpongeBob SquarePants cartoon series and movie. It is a sea hamburger. Residents of bikini bottom are addicted to the krabby patty. Djasiri just loves this series, not the patty. Each time we have gotten him one, he never eats it! He will take boiled maize over it. So that’s what we do every Sunday after church, eat boiled maize.

We have watched the SpongeBob movie so so many times, I can recite the lines. He still laughs and jumps all over the place each time he sees it. It is amazing really, that he does not tire of it. In the spirit of getting into my role, I ask for extra mayo. What pray will I be brought for? Anything that is not planted on the floor, nailed to the walls, not too heavy is fair game. Immediately,  Djasiri dashes off to the kitchen, fetches a mug and fills it with water. “Extra mayo coming right up!” he says. Thankfully it is water. This I can easily work with, drink without trying too hard.

The house looks like a circus, a little tornado christened Djasiri swept through. All the cushions big and small, toys, balls, blankets, throws are on the floor. Minus three cushions, that I have been served and I am eating that is. It is a good thing it is pretend, otherwise we would have weight issues in this world from being served huge portions. Standard portion sizes are a myth here it seems. My krabby pattys’ are blocking my view of the TV where we were watching, but mostly I was enjoying, Nicky, Ricky, Dicky and Dawn. It is hilarious, quadruplets with such different personalities.

Is it just me or are there other adults who enjoy cartoon? At times I think I enjoy more than Djasiri. Cartoon humor is the best. You should see us, laughing so hard, playing back sometimes just so we see a scene again. We acquire new names after a movie we have seen. For instance after watching good dinosaur he was Arlo, I was Momma. In Mr. Peabody, he was Sherman or Shermansky as I liked to call him. I wanted to be Agamemnon but Djasiri insisted so I was Penny. It it tonnes of fun. Just vet the movies, some cartoons have language that will leave you scrambling for the remote. Both of us want to be a particular turtle after watching the teenage mutant ninja turtles movie. Hopefully we will come to a settlement soon. Hopefully in there too, will be a lesson that everything does not revolve around him, he does not get what he wants always. Learning to lose.

It is Sunday evening and I am aching. The tight hugs and being jumped on when you least expect it. Boys are rough little monkeys. He almost chokes me at times in those tight hugs. My neck truly is sore. He steps on me like he is walking on the floor, whether the foot lands on my leg, belly, doesn’t matter. I am not sure whether he understands the concept of pain, or maybe he just thinks it applies only to him. He had extra swimming classes on Saturday. I am now the student, on the floor. “you need to hold the rail and kick your legs” he says. “a rail is something that is round and on the wall of the pool mummy” I know what a goddamned rail is, but this is a cooking stick! He is tough this little man.

It is Sunday evening and I am  happy, feeling blessed. So many wet kisses. So many I love yous. I know more than half of it is bribes so he can get his way, but I will take it. We have done the homework and I am glad he is enjoying school, making new friends, learning new things. Creating his own circle outside of his family. Fighting his own battles. He is also helping to clear the table,pack his school bag and other manageable chores. What more can you ask for?

Stay blessed folks,

xo, mamadjasiri.



Happy New Year folks! It’s past mid month, I know, but surely it can’t be too late to pass my wishes? I hope and pray you all are keeping well. The holidays as usual flew by, I have been getting my bearings, clearly it has taken a bit longer, but like a good habit, here we are, my muse and I.

We started class one exactly a week ago last Tuesday. It was exciting for Djasiri. On our way to school he kept asking the driver if there was a shortcut. He did not want to be late. He talked a mile a minute. I already felt sorry for the new teacher we were about to meet, She would not know what hit her.

I am not too sure how I felt. Bittersweet I guess. I was happy he was progressing. I was also worried, he was moving further from home, new environment, new classmates, teacher. It was primary school. There were bigger kids here. They could be mean. Amazing how subconsciously I managed to make this about myself.

He Sat next to this pretty little girl when we got to his class. I was about to remind him that he has a girlfriend, then I figured it’s day one, she would be OK when they were catching up later and he mentioned who he chose to sit next to. I wonder what they talk about, five and a half year olds. He barely gave me a second when I was leaving after a brief chat with the class teacher. It stung. Who was I kidding thinking he would cry a bit, say he does not want me to leave? I am old, boring.

I called his teacher only twice that first day. Only being the operative word. The first time at around 10:30 to see if he had settled in and how he was dealing. The teacher assured me he was fine. Then at 4:30pm, he was not home yet and class ends at 3pm. These teachers have grace, I can bet I was not the only one who called. OK, I hope I was not the only one who called, two times.

One week later, he is doing well. I have learnt that children are resilient, strong. Stronger than their parents. We worry too much. Even our parents, they worry. I guess once you become a parent, a mommy you become a worrier. You go into labor and come out with the worry app installed. This app even auto updates, you do not get a prompt that there is an update available, that would give you the choice to comply or not. It does not matter that I am a grown up, a mother myself, my mom still worries about me and my sisters.

Djasiri has been bringing back reports of being pushed, someone being mean or not sharing. I was tempted to get involved, call and find out. But I did not. He needs to find his way and be able to speak up for himself. I hope there is no escalation that will warrant an intervention.

Often times, we make it about ourselves as parents when really it is about our children. And then we get involved when maybe all we need to do is watch, listen and just be there for our children. I pray I am able to not live my life through him, wanting him to do things that i want, that I am able to let him make his own choices. Guaranteed there are some choices that as a parent you need to say no to. May God help us all.

Stay frosty folks, till we meet here again. Soon. I thank God for my friend, my mentor even. Keeps me in check when I am struggling to write. Amazing ability to break things down into perspective. Friends if you have an opportunity to mentor someone, impact on them even in the smallest of ways, please do. As Paulo Coelho says in the manual of the warrior of light, if you arrive to find an empty paradise, what will have been the point of your struggle?

I look foward to hearing about your experiences.

xo, mamadjasiri