The Power In A Power Blackout.
Growing up in the late 80s it wasn’t unusual to have four out of seven nights when we had to make do with candles and kerosene ‘kandili’.
Growing up in the late 80s it wasn’t unusual to have four out of seven nights when we had to make do with candles and kerosene ‘kandili’.
I find as women we are the most judgemental to our own.
We smile haughtily, shake our heads and tut tut at our sisters for not being ‘up to standard’.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go see her To myself I say Tomorrow I will start that task I have another
It left this Mombasa Mommy’s family to ponder if one of us had trouble for the long term with mobility or vision or hearing how we would live day to day. Because we wouldn’t just want to survive- we would want to thrive.
The issue is never ours until it is.
Mothers sacrifice their wellbeing for their children’s sake. Sure, we talk of taking care of ourselves but give a mother a choice between her child’s needs and her own, hands down a mother knows what path she will take. Never mind whether her actions will be appreciated or not…..
There are certain wisdom that remain true for everyone at everytime no matter your age- whether we are baby boomers, generation X (like myself ) or millenials.
Whether we are male or female, whatever our faith, whatever our current situation, whatever our station in life this advice I gave to my reluctant audience still applies:
In the likelihood of you being right about something like telling your loved one that if he keeps smoking he will eventually kill himself, chances are high that he still won’t listen.
It is his decision and his choice.
It isn’t easy accepting that some of your goals, dreams, your fondest desires may never come true -never mind all the ‘don’t quit’ crap.
Because this guilt that eats at us if we are not constantly on ‘go-go” mode can’t be healthy.
This self reproach because all we did today was tidy up and read a book cannot be conducive to a healthy mind.
The mother in me- but mostly the teenage me- wants to shield them all from the disappointments that they will definitely face, the heartache, the rude awakenings.
It is a normal business as usual Tuesday morning.
Then almost out of nowhere, six men, nondescript in their appearance, emerge. Some are wearing the traditional Swahili kanzu; the others are in your standard shirt and trouser. If they walked past you at any other time you would hardly spare them a glance, there is nothing extraordinary about them, they would blend in seamlessly with the scenery.