An hour’s drive from the sweltering Marigat town will set you safely on the shores of one of the two Rift Valley fresh water lakes; Lake Baringo. Unlike its sister lake Bogoria which is salty and thus contains no fish, Lake Baringo is animate with aquatic life, from five types of fish to friendly crocodiles and huge hippo’s. The numerous local tribes that live around the lake make it a colorful place to visit for you cannot fail to bump upon Tugens, Njemps, Maasai Fishermen and Pokots coexisting peacefully.
There are numerous myths and anecdotes that you will hear from the fishermen and the fishmongers about the 130km lake but the first thing you will notice is that the water levels have increased and thus moved towards land and submerged trees and hotels which were once on dry land.
On Sunday August 16th, amid the sweltering Nairobi heat, the Alliance Francaise de Nairobi hosted the 57th edition of Slam Africa competition. A stiffly contested and vibrant affair, the event started off with recitation of well crafted pieces by nine poets and ended with one of them, Sanaa Arman taking home the trophy and the Slam King title.
The event, under the Nandi flame tree that towers over the Alliance gardens, attracted hundreds of slam poetry lovers from all spheres of life, from activists like Boniface Mwangi to academics such as Dr. Wandia Njoya and communication specialists like Dennis Itumbi.
The competitors thrilled the audience with creatively crafted poems that contained memorable lines and saw slam lovers snap their fingers in glee. They tackled a number of issues affecting youth in contemporary Kenya. The issues ranged from yellow fever (the youth obsession with light skin…
Matt Groening once said that people go into cartooning because they
are shy and they are angry yet this cannot even begin to describe the
vibe of the six Kenyan cartoonists whose works are currently on
exhibition at the Alliance Francaise de Nairobi. Using the tool they
understand best, the pencil, these artists colorfully trace president
Obama’s life from his father’s homeland in Kogelo to his visit to
Kenya in 2006 and his long awaited visit as president of the United
States.
That the different artists’ themes intersect with underlying common
themes and bitingly funny captions is what keeps art lovers glued to
the walls on the first floor art gallery at Alliance; giving it
popularity at a time when other people complain of experiencing too
much Obama talk, a condition social media enthusiasts have since
termed #overobama. A number of themes are explored and the artists manage to show…
They say there is no there is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved. Love found Chris Lyimo and Dr Wandia Njoya, both 44, long after both had given up hope of ever getting married. They wedded on July, 30th, 2015, hardly a year into dating.
Chris Lyimo and his wife Wandia Njoya at Nation Centre in Nairobi on August 21,2015. PHOTO BY EVANS HABIL(NAIROBI)
“The beauty about dating while older is that there is no time for playing games. Westated clearly from the beginning that we were dating on the premise that we could get married. There didn’t seem to be a valid reason to wait,” adds Wandia.
Their unique love story culminated in a unique ceremony that had them both wearing jeans in a wedding aptly themed: “New Beginnings” to celebrate victory over their pasts and a celebration of second chances.
“I had always wanted to get married in jeans, but most people I told laughed it off and saidI would have a very difficult time finding a woman who would agree with my idea. When I mentioned itto Wandia in passing one day while on a date, she readily agreed. I thought she was joking,” says Chris, smiling at the memory.
“I knew in my heart that I did not want to get married in white, but I had not really though the idea through. In most weddings I had attended, the bride would choose a colour and have everyone else match it, but here it was the groom who inspiredthe theme. Chris did not even believe I was actually going to go through with it until we visited the tailor,” adds Wandia.
On the wedding day, Chris was the first to walk down the aisle with his mother and teenage son (from a previous relationship) by his side, which was by itself a unique act that ushered the couple boldly into a future they had both previously thought impossible.
LOVE STORY BEGINS
Chris, an addictions counsellor, blogger and creative writer, met Dr Wandia Njoya, a lecturer, at a creative writing workshop at Daystar University where she also teaches, but it was not until weeks after the workshop ended that they starting talking. Coincidentally, Wandia had just moved to the church Chris attended, and it was during a bus ride from church one day that they made a connection.
“When the seat next to her got empty, I quickly settled myself into it, and we talked about everything under the sun during that journey. During the conversation, something compelled me to tell her that God was about to surprise her. I did not know that I was in for a surprise too,” says Chris.
Chris had not really thought of Wandia as a potential mate, as he had long resigned himself to the idea that he would be single for life and would fulfil his life’s purpose as an addictions counsellor, having been on his recovery journey for the last 17 years.
He details his experience in abook titled My Side of the Street: One Man’s Journey from Alcoholism to Sobriety, wherehe bares his soul and heart about the horrors of domestic violence, addiction, depression and growing up in a dysfunctional family.
Little wonder, then, that his narrative of himself was that he was not man enough, not just because he did not have a degree, but also because he was a recovering alcoholic.
“I belittled myself. The pressure has been that I am not man enough, because I am not a graduate, because I am recovering alcoholic, and because I am not living with my son.”
Chris shares custody with his son’s mother.
Despite pressure from his extended family and friends to marry, he had not really found the person to settle down with.
This was the script he “read” from in his brief interactions with Wandia, but the more he interacted with her, the more his narrative about himself changed, and he started seeing her as a potential mate and life partner.
WANDIA’S STORY
People had always told Wandia that she was too bold, too outspoken, too educated to have or keep a man in her life. And she believed them.
“One of my past relationships came crumbling down just as I was starting my Masters degree and some people around me automatically assumed that my studies were the reason why my relationship had ended, even though that was not the case. It was one of those really bad relationships that simply had to end,” she explains.
And then she went to teach at Daystar University where the thenDeputy Vice Chancellor kept encouraging her to go back to school for her PhD.
For fleeting moments, she wondered how this would affect her marriageability but with the DVC’s encouragement, she applied and got accepted for her PhD studies abroad.
“As much as I wanted to further my studies, I also knew that my fate was now sealed. I thought to myself: Which man would marry me now?”
Her battle with breast cancer when she was 39 years old also took a toll on her self-esteem and made her question her marriageability even more.
“I underwent a couple of surgeries which left my body scarred. I wondered what sort of man would accept a scarred woman. When I went to the hospital for my first biopsy, I saw a poster that linked breast cancer with childlessness, which really hurt and made me feel like it was a condemnation from God,” she explains.
“I have always told her that her scars are evidence of character, they are a victory over her past,” Chris reassures her.
It got to a point where Wandia refused to be introduced by her title (Doctor) and used to introduce herself as a teacher.
The pressure to get married was mostly from herself and the society as her family was very supportive, never questioning why she was single.
But it was not until she listened to a sermon at Mavuno church that she fully embraced her womanliness.
“In summary, the preacher said that we are not made women by childbirth or getting married. We are women because God made us women. I took comfort in that and told God that since you made me a woman, I am no less of a woman just because I don’t have a husband and children,” she says.
She drew strength and fulfilment from teaching her students at Daystar, and had resigned herself to her life as a happy single woman. Until that fateful bus ride with Chris.
RELATIONSHIP BLOSSOMS
Wandia called Chris one day, weeks after the fateful bus ride, to ask him for a copy of his book for their book club as they wanted to read an autobiography.
Chris had his book sent to her, and waited with bated breath for her reaction, as he did not know how she would handle the knowledge about his past since his book was a tell-it-all.
“It even had details about the first time I had sex,” he recalls, laughing at the memory.
But Wandia was not at all put off by his past.
“I was keen on how she would react to my past, as I had faced judgment and rejection before, but she simply said that she found some things I had revealed in the book disturbing and that she was going to do a book review. In her book review, she took the angle of exploring the subtle things that people often take for granted in alcoholism, depression and masculinity, something I had never considered before. She was curious as well and once we were dating, she even asked me to help her understand what depression is, and who she should call in the event that I relapse” he says.
Chris was both stunned and touched by her reaction.
“Education had equipped me with the tools to deal with what Chris was going through and had been through,” she explains.
A friendship was formed after this, followed by the exchange of numerous WhatsApp messages and by going on a few plays and coffee dates. Neither of them, however, officially declared interest in each other. Not until Chris attended a workshop (on Wandia’s invitation) entitled “The Soul of Sex,” where the speaker explained that the original meaning of “erotic” and “intimacy” was more than just sex but wasabout passion and zest for life.
“On my way home after that workshop, I realised that the wonderful time I was having with Wandia could be called erotic, even though there was no sex or hint of it. I was weary of letting her know because I didn’t want to jinx it. After the next “Soul of Sex” workshop, I called her and asked: ‘Would you be my girlfriend in a dating relationship with the possibility of courtship leading to marriage?’ She said yes. Three times,” he explains, smiling.
MEETING THE IN-LAWS
One month into the official courtship, Wandia asked Chris to meet her father.
“Because of his troubled past, I wanted my father to meet and get to know Chris before he heard about Chris from anyone else. I thought it would only take a couple of hours but they ended up spending over seven hours together,” she says.
“As we parted, Wandia’s fathertold me that he saw that I was mature. Later, when Wandia’s family came to see mine, he told the gathered guests that he had been interviewing me all along, because an interview is to discover what value add the interviewee is bringing. And that I had passed the interview,” adds Chris.
The recurring question Chris’s family had for Wandia was whether she knew about his troubled past, to which she answered in the affirmative.
“I suppose they were just surprised that she would love someone with a past like mine. But they were not alone…I couldn’t believe it myself. Perhaps that is why I broke down in tears minutes before my wedding officially started. I could not believe how blessed I was to experience forgiveness, freedom and new beginnings of recovery in this one event and the love of such an incredible woman.”
“I always wanted a man that would also see that side of me besides my title and job. And he did. He saw me as a woman,” says Wandia.
What Wandia loves most about Chris is his self-awareness and continued self-improvement.
“Chris is unlike most men who, after they get a great job, great car, great family, they stop working on building their character. Chris just never stops. He is constantly working to be a better man. He is also one of the most resourceful people I have ever met. Even though people may see his past, I only see a journey with him, a journey of constant renewal.”
Chris finds Wandia’s most endearing quality to be her unawareness about the power and influence that she wields, her generosity, her dedication to her students, and he loves her more for it.
DIFFERENCES IN EDUCATION AND FINANCES
Wandia and Chrisdeliberately havediscussions about their different academic backgrounds and income as they do not want it to be a barrier in their lives.
“The nature of Wandia’s employment is that she currently brings in more money, and more regularly. During the Mavuno pre-marital counselling classes, we were encouraged to save, so we decided that my income would be our savings and Wandia’s income would be for the day-to-day expenses,” adds Chris.
“We also know that the world narrowly defines manhood by property, schooling and financial status.But provision is not always financial, and schooling doesn’t necessarily mean education. We talk through these thingsover and over again because we know people willkeep throwing them back at us, and we need to make a concerted effort in facing such scenarios,” Wandia adds.
And the challenge has already started in just three weeks of marriage.
“I have been in situations where I’ve been introduced simply as Dr Wandia’s husband. And I am okay with that,” says Chris.
“Although Wandia sometimes shies away from her title, I’ve told her I’m proud of her and proud to be her husband. Her intellect was one of the things that attracted me. Besides, she was already Dr Wandia when I met her. And when we started dating, I found how refreshing her education was for our relationship,” he adds.
The couple opened joint accounts before they got married to manage the wedding contributions, and to keep their savings.
“Opening a joint account for the wedding was good because it made us have to talk about money,” she says.
The happy couple is looking forward to creating a revolution in championing for people to get second chances, and not let their pasts define them. As for starting a family, they are looking forward to following God’s intention for them and letting his will prevail.
Their union, they say, is testament to having second chances and new beginnings.
This article was first published in the Daily Nation.
Kenya is reputed to be a city of polite folk. We have euphemisms for everything, including sex and the necessary organs to perform it.
But can we really afford to keep being polite when statistics show that children as young as 9 years are already having sex?
Before you protest, think of the neurologist Sigmund Freud who said that human beings are driven by primary instincts, mostly sexual and aggressive. He asserts that from the day we are born, we all possess an instinctual libido, a sexual appetite.
Children, including me as a child, often refer to sex as “tabia mbaya” (bad manners). Really? I think this attitude is the root of most problems.
Reading Maryanne Waweru’s article in the Daily Nation a few months ago titled “The shame of being 16 and pregnant”, I could not help but wonder about the role of “polite” sex talk in her ordeal as a young teenage mother.
It starts when the children are too little to understand anything. We have little nicknames for sexual organs like penis and vaginas. We call them weewees, dudus, veevees and whatever other names that one may choose to fancifully call them.
Sex is often a taboo topic and speaking from a personal experience, my father would often switch channels whenever a raunchy Mexican soap opera scene came on.
“These things are not for children,” he would grumble as he fidgeted with the remote control to look for more “age appropriate” content.
We would all fumble in our seats, and learnt from quite an early age to associate sex withshame, shame shame.
I remember when I was about ten years old , having been “sufficiently” guided and counselled at school about this monster called sex, watching pregnant women on the streets and wondering to myself;
“Are they not ashamed to be walking around announcing that they have had sex?”
My young mind thought it was shameful, nay, scandalous, for pregnant women to walk so freely.
The guidance and counselling lessons, while they were meant to help, only succeeded in letting us know that sex was bad, bad, bad.
Relationships between boys and girls were basically banned in my time in primary school, and any couple that dared to be together were flogged publicly when caught.
By the time we were starting our journey into adulthood, we were convinced that sex was one of the greatest sins, somewhere up there with robbery with violence , murder and blasphemy.
As a “digital” parent, I cannot help but wonder how differently I can build up my child’s reality about sex without distorting the facts. About how I can tell her that sex is a beautiful act when the person and time is right without condemning the whole act as evil.
I fear that the need to protect by daughter for as long as I can against the “evil” of sex may cloud my good judgment and make her regard sex with too much undeserved suspicion.
What if we just called a spade a spade and stopped hiding behind silly birds and bees’ stories?
What if we warned our children who are of age about the dangers of unprotected sex but also about the beauty and pleasure of it?
Perhaps if we rebranded our discussions and stopped all the polite sex talk, it would pave the way for a trusting relationship with our children where they would open up about their fears and experiences and always have us, the parents, be the people they come to first.
Utopia? Maybe. But if there is anything I have learnt as a product of parents who gave me polite sex talk, it is that it just does not cut it.
Cut through the euphemisms, call things as they are- that is my new mantra regarding all sex talk with my daughter.
My daughter is turning one year at the end of April and even if this sounds “Un-African”, I would like to state publicly that I will not be accepting little Barbie dolls as gifts on her birthday.
I have nothing against Barbie dolls per se. I just have a problem with the things Barbie will tell my daughter about her looks.
Perhaps the following tale about my daughter’s first days on earth will make this a little easier to digest.
She was hardly two days old when she a visitor in the hospital remarked:
“She is such a beauty….I hope she remains light skinned.”
I was too tired from twelve hours of labour to respond sufficiently to the statement but I have had a full year of recovery and I would like to break down all the things that were wrong with this warped comment. If only for the sake of my daughter’s self-esteem, especially now that I am fully aware that “Untinted” women like Verah Sidika are teenage girls’ idols.
When I was expectant, my only prayer was to have a healthy baby. Having watched my mother struggle to bring up my older sister who was a sickly child who and finally losing her to sickle-cell anaemia related complications, I spent nights fervently praying for a healthy child.
My wish was granted. Her cry was fiery. She seemed terribly displeased at her entry into the world (and with good reason, I came to find out two days later).
As I held her in my arms, I marveled at my little beautiful miracle. I have not stopped marveling ever since.
But a comment from one of my hospital visitors temporarily stunned me and led me to the conclusions that we, black people, are our own worst enemies.
Here is how I should have responded to my hospital visitor;
“That is the least of my concerns. Why not comment on the baby’s good health, her delightful dimples, and her glorious full head of hair? Would you prefer if I gave her back to the nurses would she turn out to be drake skinned?” I should have stared hard at the visitor and asked her never to repeat that statement in front of my child ever again.
As she turns one this weekend, I will clarify to each invited guest that I will not accepting little white dolls as presents for her. What will the white dolls tell her about her own looks? That she has to be blonde, blue-eyed and button-nosed to be pretty, for sure.
I would like her to grow up with the assurance that there is nothing wrong with her skin colour even though the world may see it differently. If my guests cannot find black dolls that look like her, then I will suggest they buy her books, or trucks, or pretty little dresses, things that will delight her but not set her on the path of questioning her skin colour and aspiring to “Untint”.
I one made a comment that I thought the phrase “Black beauty” is limiting. I still think it does. Why can’t we call dark skinned people simply beautiful? Saying “Black beauty”, in my estimation, is the equivalent of saying: “She is beautiful-for a black person.”
People, Lupita was named the world’s most beautiful woman, not the world’s most beautiful black beauty.
I know my daughter will come across people that will comment on her colour negatively. I know she will be accosted by “Bleaching experts” while walking along Nairobi’s River Road one day who will promise to “Remove her tint” but for as long as I can, I will protect her from this. And the first step is banning Barbie dolls from the gifts list on her first birthday.
I have been battling the question of why Kenyan books have such ugly covers privately for some time now and I think it is time I came out publicly with it.
I thought publishing firms employ marketers whose sole purpose is to sell books? Why then would any marketer worth his salt allow his or her product to go out to the market without proper branding?
Publishers can be forgiven for having hastily branded text books and set books (or class readers). After all, these come practically with a ready market and parents would buy them even if they were mere photocopies, bound with sisal rope and sealed with cello tape.
Let’s talk about autobiographies, which to me, seem to be the latest craze with publishers. Is there a jail term that awaits any publisher who lets an autobiography with a well-designed cover go into the market? A ask this because almost every new autobiography in the market will have the subject of the story facing the camera (in what always appears to be a blown-up passport size photo), with nary a smile, with the title running above his head.
Do these publishers go to the same school where they copy each other’s work or is it just an attempt at saving costs by all means by simply refusing to contract a designer of good repute to turn bland boardroom ideas into something that breathes life and calls the potential reader by name when they walk past it in the bookshop?
Let me ask the question that my colleague and friend Obed asks whenever he receives a bad copy in the newsroom;
Marie Ojiambo first came into the limelight when she was crowned Miss Kenya USA 2013 and the People’s Princess Miss Africa USA 2013. She entered the pageant because she saw this as an opportunity to bridge the gap in knowledge and understanding of sickle cell disease. She has gone ahead to do exactly that.
Q: Tell us more about your background, Marie.
A: I am 27 years old and the second born in a family of four children. I am the daughter of a single mother. I was born and raised in Nairobi- went to Loreto Convent Valley road, from where I moved onto pursue her ‘A’ levels at the Millenium academy and later on got my Bachelors degree at the University of Nairobi’s School of Pharmacy.
Q: Really? Are you a practicing doctor?
A: (Smiling) Yes! I am a Doctor of Pharmacy based in Queens, New York. I am also currently pursuing a full time masters in Industrial Pharmacy. I am a drug research and development major studying drug formulation sciences.
I also consider myself a sickle cell warrior and a very pro active sickle cell awareness advocate. I am an ambassador for those suffering Sickle cell disease in my home country of Kenya.
Q: Have you always wanted to be a doctor?
A: Indeed, I have. I initially wanted to apply to school of medicine but with guidance from my mother and backed by my empathetic character and academic strengths, I found myself better placed in Pharmacy. Q: Who are your role models?
A: When it comes to role models, I believe my path and progress cannot be pinned or credited to emulating one particular person. More than role models, I have Influencers. These are people who have edified and enriched my social, spiritual upbringing, my career focuses, my education and my work in social responsibility.
My mother has been and still is one of these people. I have watched her nurture my siblings and I and give us direction while still succeeding in her own career pursuits irrespective of the hardships that come with being a single parent.
As the current Deputy Secretary General of the Common Wealth overseeing political affairs, I hope I can one day be half the woman my formidable mother is.
My motivation however comes mostly from my peers, young men and women who have had access to similar opportunities as I have but are stepping out, defying stereotypes and breaking the status quo. These individuals are trail blazers in their own rights, carving out outstanding niches for themselves in business, medicine, finance, IR/PR/Diplomacy and social responsibility.
Photo by Nxt Lvl Photography
Some of my influencers include Sitawa Wafula, an award winning mental health and epilepsy crusader, former beauty queen and Tanzanian model Flaviana Matata, philanthropist and champion of children’s rights to education in Tanzania, Laura Akunga, CEO of Benchmark companies, a corporate branding and communications company with bases in east and central Africa, Marvin Kiragu, an associate in corporate and investment banking with Citi group. At 26 years of age, Mr. Kiragu may be the youngest Kenyan on Wall Street. With his proven track record, he is forecasted to be up for promotion to VP position within the next two years.
I am a work in progress. With a lot of prayer and hard work, I look to influencers like these to motivate and counsel me as I grow in all walks of life.
Q: You are also a beauty queen. Tell us more about that?
A: I ran for the Miss Africa USA title in the year 2013. During my first year in NY, I fell sick with sickle cell crisis and was hospitalised. During my stay in hospital I realised how little people knew about this disease I was suffering from and this includes even the medical personnel.
There was a gap in knowledge and understanding of sickle cell disease and so I wanted to look for a platform to help me bridge that gap. I prayed about it and after days in prayer and reflection I received divine direction on this.
I am not your typical pageant girl, standing at 5ft 7”, I felt less than confident running for this internationally acclaimed and coveted title. I however ended up doing very well and exceeding my and other people’s expectations.
During my run, I was named Miss Kenya USA 2013 and the People’s Princess Miss Africa USA 2013. Although I wasn’t overall winner of the Miss Africa USA title, coming in 6th, I used the publicity I gained from my titles to raise awareness around sickle cell disease which was my humanitarian platform.
The qualifications one had to have to vie for the title were well achievable with restrictions only in age and a requirement to have a humanitarian based platform which is what first drew me to this pageant.
Q: Any words of advice or encouragement for patients suffering from sickle cell disease? For those affected by the disease?
A: Words of advice to patients suffering sickle cell disease are that you should strive to lift and emancipate yourself from the mental bondage that sickle cell disease may bring to your life. Gain a positive attitude as this is half your healing. Take care of your body. Learn what works for you and what doesn’t. Be proactive about your health and educate those around you who may not understand you. You are not alone, many suffer like you, fight with you and pray for you. Be encouraged.
For parents who are raising sickle cell warriors, be positive and stay positive. A diagnosis of Sickle Cell disease is not the end of your child’s life, as evidenced in many of us. No man can put a tag on your children’s lives. Speak life into your children and gain knowledge about how you can help your child manage the disease. For the general public, get educated. Know sickle cell disease and how it affects your society. Do not stigmatize those who suffer the condition but instead encourage them. Go for genetic counseling especially if you live or come from a malaria/ sickle cell endemic area.
Q: What projects are you currently undertaking in Kenya on the same?
A: Projects that my initiative is currently undertaking include The “Adopt a sickler” program, an online based platform that the Sickle Strong initiative is planning to host. It is a platform whereby a financially needy patient is randomly coupled to a sponsor.
The sponsor will provide a monthly stipend that will go into taking care of the out-patient expenses and daily drugs that the patient requires for management of the condition.
I am looking to partner with the Kenyatta National Hospital and the National Hospital Insurance Fund to see this program through.
My initiative will first conduct a pilot program to determine the feasibility of such a system. This program will help instill confidence in the patients in their health care systems and institutions. It will also provide a health care plan for patients in need and give the society a chance to give back in their own little way.
We are also in the process of planning a support group meeting for patients and their families/ support systems within Nairobi and its environs. These meetings will be done in association with other advocacy groups and organisations and will be held once a month. Medical camps are also going to be held in different parts of the country with a focus on the endemic regions. Finally, in collaboration with Dennis Awich Sickle Cell Anemia Foundation, we are planning to host the first ever sickle cell awareness walk in Kenya, tentatively slated for September 2015 which is sickle cell awareness month. It will be a public awareness 10 K walk.
Q: Do you have a special man in your life?
A: No. I am making myself the better woman for the better man. It will all fall into place in good time. God speed.
Q: Okay, one last question. As a beauty queen, who are your fashion icons?
A: I can’t really say I have a particular fashion icon. Women and our generation in particular are becoming very creative and savvy with their get up.
I like to shop at independent retail outlets because I can get cloths that are not mass produced and that I can mix and match up to my liking. I love brands like Zara, Micheal Korrs and Bebe. But I love to support my own as well, so I also buy into our local brand names such as Achie Otigo, Wambui Mukenyi, Nick Ondu and Ndula Kenya just to name a few.
Q: What should we expect from you in future?
A: My near future plans are to graduate within the next 6 months my masters degree and break into main stream corporate pharmaceutical America. I want to gain some experience in my processional field and invest my knowledge and expertise in building the Industrial Pharmaceutical sector in Kenya. For my charity, the Sickle Strong Initiative, I am striving to make the organization a bigger, better, self sustaining foundation that will benefit all sickle cell warriors as well as their families living in Kenya. I am looking to engage government to dialogue on better treatment plans and medical interventions for patients suffering the disease. I eventually want to be a mother and to live in a suburban home. I dream of a day that I will watch my kids play in the sun out in the backyard.
Q: Parting shot?
A: Life is good. Do not ever think otherwise. Never regret a moment, an obstacle or a mistake made. Never belittle a lesson, advise or life’s little victories. It’s a beautiful journey, savour it and trust the process.
NOTE FROM MARIE
The burden of Sickle cell disease in our society today is a growing concern with many losing their lives to this otherwise manageable disease.
Last year my charity, Sickle Strong Initiative in conjunction with Dennis Awich Sickle Cell Anemia Foundation organised the very first Sickle Cell awareness event in Kenya dubbed “Ongea!”. We used this event as a platform for sickle cell warriors and their families to come out and speak about the condition so as to raise public awareness on the disease.
Last year’s event was a success and due to demand and great feedback, we have felt the need to make Ongea an annual Sickle Cell Awareness event.
This year’s event is set to run on the 20th of June, 2015 in commemoration of World Sickle Cell Awareness Day.
It will be held at Safaricom’s Michael Joseph Center from 10.00 am to 2.00 pm.
I hate to admit it but I am sort of a know-it-all. Actually I am a know-it-all. I do not know the roots of this attitude exactly but I certainly know that it worked out terribly for me as a new mother.
Instead of asking veteran mothers questions, I Googled and Googled. I read all the “How to” motherhood books I could lay my hands on and YouTubed “little” things like breastfeeding, changing baby diapers and washing baby.
I remember a mummy friend suggesting to me to go for classes on motherhood at one of the local hospitals.
“They can teach you how to deal with your baby as a new mum.”
“I am a reader,” I replied, slightly annoyed, “I have read all I need to know about motherhood, I do not need those tu-lectures on the same.”
That was the beginning of my downfall.
My pregnancy was smooth. Everything went like Google and “What to Expect when Expecting” book said it would.
After twelve hours of labour, I held a healthy, beautiful baby girl in my arms, ready to start applying the knowledge I had accumulated in excess on the poor little child.
“Breastfeed the child immediately,” the doctor advised.
I put my baby girl on my breast, just like Youtube had taught me. And….nothing.
“Why is she not breastfeeding?”I asked anxiously, turning virtual pages in my head trying to think of which page in the books I had read had some advice on breastfeeding.
The nurse, a sturdy woman who looked like a retired weightlifter, lifted my breast and shoved it into the baby’s mouth.
To say I was uncomfortable is an understatement.
Baby struggled to fee for the next two days. Eventually, she had to be put on formula. I walked out of the hospital on the third day with wounds for breasts.
In retrospect, I should have refused to leave the hospital until I could breastfeed without pain or anguish. But I was itching to go back to my other bible at the time: “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer” to learn how to breastfeed.
I spent the next six weeks crying each time the baby breastfed and madly searching online for solutions. I bought creams, popped painkillers, prayed- nothing seemed to work.
And then I decided to do what I should have done in the first place.
I asked for help.
I called up my friends who were mothers. I called up my friends’ mothers. I talked to people on Kilimani Mums and Pregnant Mum Support Group on Facebook.
I got encouragement, suggestions and cheap, workable solutions for my problem. I was referred to a lactation specialist who, thank heavens, was also a trained counsellor.
She charged me consultation fees, yes, but gave me so much value for my money that I almost cried in gratitude.
I used Avent breast shells on her recommendation and little by little, my healing started.
The shells protected my breasts from further damage or contact with my clothes. I also kept moisturizing and holding my baby the right way so that she could latch on to the breast properly.
“Speak positive things to yourself. Tell yourself you are a great mother. You wake up three or more times at night to feed your baby. Tell yourself you will breastfeed without pain one day. You carried her for nine months. Laboured for hours and finally got her. She is a healthy, beautiful girl. You must be doing something right,” I remember her saying.
I went to the supermarket after that talk and got myself yellow sticky notes. I wrote down every word that she had said, even added my own like: “You are beautiful”, “You are a great mum”, “You have such a cute baby” and stuck them on the bed’s headboard.
My husband was puzzled when he came home later that day and I could see him struggling not to ask what was going on.
“I am tired of negativity in my life,” I offered before he could ask.
He nodded. Perhaps understanding that it was not in his place to understand what was going on.
The journey to pain-free breastfeeding was painful, slow but totally rewarding in the end.
I learned the hard way that friendship and advice from people that care for you cannot be Googled.
I first ‘met’ Grace Ogot through her short story anthology ‘Land Without thunder’ when I was just thirteen years old.
I do not remember where I go that book from but I loved how she wrote.
At the time, I was on an Enid Blyton “Famous Five” and Francine Pascal’s “Sweet Valley High” series and Mills and Boon permanent High, with my only interaction with African writing being the class text book “Read with Us” which I read when I was seven years old.
One of the stories “Tekayo” stood out for me.
I remember the story like it was yesterday. Never mind that I first read it 18 years ago.
Tekayo, accompanied by his son Opija, saw an eagle flying around with a piece of meat. It was a piece of liver, still dripping with blood. He wanted to throw it away but decided against it and roasted it instead. It was the best-tasting meat he had ever had.
After this incident, Tekayo goes on a mission to relive this taste, killing one wild animal after another with disappointing results. He stopped the hunt after his wife died but stayed at home to look after his grandchildren as members of the family who were younger went out to the fields to till the land.
The craving for the sweet liver came to him again, and overpowered him to the extent of him killing his grandchildren and extracting their liver. This was the taste that had his taste buds singing in joy. He killed his grandchildren one after the other, until the day he was discovered.
I remember what he said as his son dragged him away: “Atimo ang’o? Atimo ang’o?” (What have I done?)
Tekayo eventually committed suicide.
I remember reading and rereading the story. I remember retelling the story to my small sister and my older sister. My copy got dog-eared, worn out.
I did not understand how human beings could be so cruel, and my 13 year old heart bled for the kids.
I ‘met’ Grace again in my second year of study in campus. I was all of 23 years. Ten years later and the beauty of the story was still ingrained in my memory. It was a class reader at the time in a Literature unit where we were studying East African Literature.
As a 13 year old, Tekayo to me was just an ogre but I looked at him differently at a 23-year old.
I considered the possibility that Tekayo may not have been an ogre after all but a pedophile. That what he was stealing from the children may not have been their hearts after all but their innocence.
That is how I ‘met’ Grace Ogot.
She whetted my appetite for African literature in a way no other author ever has. I dabbled in short story writing for a while because I assured myself that if I could write even one story as good as “Tekayo”, then I would be home free as a writer to reckon with.
These are the memories of Grace Ogot that I will be carrying forward.
Literary Chronicles 