The beauty of the art is knowing that it will hurt. But you still share your part. The deepest desires of your heart. Your hope is that they will take you as you are, and make you cherish what you didn’t like. But instead, your bare soul, they devour, your weak spirit they kill, your little energy, they steal. When they’ve had it to their fill, they walk away with victory written on their faces. And you are left dying,  dying inside and outside too.
When things were all roses and honey, they promised. They promised things that looked so real and you believed them. The most favorite of all was, no matter what happens, we shall forever remain friends. But when they took to their heels and left you in pain, you couldn’t help but wish that they could come back as friends to console you. You swallowed your pride and looked for them
“hey, I thought we were supposed to be friends? ”
You’re right” were “, and that was then. This is now.
Heartbroken,  discouraged,  downtrodden, you walk away. Tears streaming in your eyes. You let them flow because there’s no more space for tears inside. You cry yourself to sleep. Day by day,  you start to isolate yourself. You keep everything to yourself. You lose interest in the things that you held dear. The world thinks that you are broken. But the truth is, you are afraid to start over,  to let another in. For all you know now, is humans are capable of things, and you are not ready to do this again.


With everything happening in our lives, you’re not really sure if you are coming or going. In most cases we are overwhelmed with the thought that we are definitely gonna be there tomorrow, or the month after, or the year after. Basically we think that life is a journey and we are on our way. Nobody wants to visualise the end of it.
They went to bed healthy, happy and looking forward to the next day. They had plenty of plans for themselves and for the people they loved. They couldn’t wait to attain their ideal happiness which to them was still far ahead of them. At dawn, they couldn’t open their eyes. They couldn’t say a word, they couldn’t breathe. They are gone, never to come back again.
In that moment it hits you with so much pain, having been a person close to them, that you will never get another chance with them. You cry yourself silly, remembering all the good times you shared, the bad times you persevered, the good plans you had. All that is gone within the blink of an eye and your brain, your mind, your body and spirit cannot simply internalize this.
Life is precious because it ends. It is meant to be simple but why do we keep on complicating it? It should be as simple as do good and go your way, spread love around you and preach life in your life. Imagine a world where people lived like this…. My idea of heaven is in the attainment of such a standard. We keep fantasizing about the heaven beyond the skies but keep denying ourselves the chance to give ourselves a beautiful heaven on earth. This could probably be the only heaven some of us will experience.
Bottom line is, love the people in your life. Maximize the time you have together and make every second count. Keep no grudges, forgive and move on. Because if we woke up tomorrow to news that so and so had passed on and you had no yet cleared up things between the two of you, it would pin you down.
Let us all spread the love, do good and go your way  and preach life in your life..

Dedicated to special persons.
Fazah Faith
Naomi Nafula
Lydia Okello


A little girl she was, happy on the outside but deep inside she was confused. Why does mama stay in Nairobi with my siblings yet I stay in the village with grandma? Does mummy hate me so much? “Grandma, why can’t I stay in Nairobi with them?” she kept asking. She pestered her grandmother with these questions so much that one day her she decided to tell the truth. “The man in Nairobi is not your father child.”

These words pierced through the young girls heart and she broke down.” Why did they lie to me for all these years?” she wondered if her real father passed on so long ago that they did not want to let to let her know. Or perhaps her father was a gangster and they really did not want her to associate with him. So many ideas filled her mind and she couldn’t take it anymore. “Then who is my father?” she asked her grandmother.

Of course her grandmother could not answer these questions. She told her to ask her mother instead. But ever since she opened her mouth to her mother wanting to know more about her father, her mother started showing her true colours. She could verbally abuse the girl and turn it around that the girl was being disrespectful. The little girl wondered if she was her real mother too. “Did she adopt me? Or perhaps did she try to abort me but then it backfired?” She wondered. Why was she so bitter with her own biological daughter. What crime did she do to deserve all that hate?

She passed her primary school examination and joined a very prestigious school. Any single effort to help her from her mother was followed by bitter words. The girl dreaded being next to her mother. During visiting days, her mother would introduce herself as her sister. This crushed the girl so much but she faked a smile admitting that indeed, she was her sister. Wasn’t she proud of her? But why?

At a certain point, she introduced her to her new boyfriend as her sister again. When the girl closed school, she couldn’t have a comfort zone next to her mother. Her mother was always up on her neck for this and that. The girl was not allowed to mention the name mother in the house when the boyfriend was around. One day, the name slipped from her lips and the boyfriend heard it. The bitter mother called the girl to the room and told her very harsh words. Left crying, she wondered how bad it was to call her own mother mum.

Life henceforth was characterised by difficulties trying to deal with the negativity from the mother. She recalls how on certain days, her mum would come to visit her in school and then spend the whole time talking on phone with her boyfriend. They didn’t have any conversation. It pained her so much.

Where did we go wrong to deserve such treatment from this life? Why would a mother be so ashamed of her own child? Sometimes the world judges us too much. As the girl puts this story down on paper, she still is looking for answers. The world will tell you to forgive and forget. But how do you forget something when the person keeps doing it even after in your heart you forgave them? How do you respect when the person involved makes you feel less significant? How do you live your life peacefully when there is an empty piece of you still wandering out there. I think the world doesn’t contain all the answers to our problems. Perhaps, with some of them, we shall have to die not having know the answers. You are lucky if you have all the answers you need.

It is not worth it

All the pain, all the trials, was it worth. When you couldn’t do anything else but devote your energy to it. Did it finally pay off? When you couldn’t sleep or even close your eyes just to watch over your what you believed in, was it worth the sacrifice. When you couldn’t be friends with some people just because it could hinder you from getting to your goal, was it worth the loss.
Sometimes I get a feeling that life is never really that serious. Everything they talk about is somehow overated. Look at a young soul that struggled and went through thick and thin to find their way to a public University, a year later the innocent soul is murdered by unknown people who never even get to pay for the crimes they did. Was it really worth the struggle.
Perhaps that sounds too serious. Now think about a woman who has been faithful to her husband from the day they took the oath of loyalty. The husband works far from home and while away, he believes he can have any woman he wants because the wife is not around. To make it worse, he indulges in unprotected sex and someday he contracts the deadly virus of hiv. He finds this out later on and goes ahead to hide it from the wife. Secretly, he shallows the antiritrovirals and keeps himself on the safe side. Poor faithful woman, she’s gonna die a death she doesn’t even deserve. Was it worth the wait
It’s never that serious. Life is not even in our own hands for us to mould. Quite often, we worry about what will happen tomorrow. Do we even know if we shall see the day? Quite often we ask ourselves what other people will say if we man up and be ourselves. Does their opinion really shape us up?
Live every single moment like it’s your best and your last. Do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will bring along its own worries. Dance if you want to dance, sing out loud if you have that voice. Do the best that you ever wanted to do now because tomorrow is not quaranteed. Indeed life is a game.


Finally the day has come for me to transition into another stage of my life, campus life. Sitting on my metallic bed in my hostel, I unpack my little black suitcase. My roommate Angie seated on her bed looking at how shy, timid and innocent I look. I realize my suitcase has only three hipster jeans trousers, two vest tops and one t-shirt. Who still wears these? As I carry them to my closet, my eyes are distracted by how well organized Angie’s closet looks. Angie is a third year student in the school of human resource management taking communication and journalism.
Torn between making a joke of myself by putting my few not so good looking clothes in my wardrobe and returning them to my suitcase. “Do not ever try to compare yourself to other girls’’ these are the words my mama told me as we parted ways.  I gather all my courage and put my clothes in my wardrobe. As I turn to go sit on my bed, I avoid making eye contact with Angie in case she decides to ask me I have any more clothes. Luckily, her phone rings and she walks outside to pick the call.  Did I mention the type of a phone that she has? Well, I do not really know the name but from the look outside, it is must be an expensive one. I sit on my bed and take out my itel ‘’ mulika mwizi ‘’phone. Checking out messages from my boyfriend back in the village wishing me the best as I start a new life.
I steal a look at Angie’s closet well. Ohh no! There is a partition for shoes and make up. I have no make up to put in my closet. As for the shoes, I only have one pair which are still getting some fresh air outside the door.  My roommate has a variety of designer colognes well arranged in a different partition together with her body lotions, scrubs, and shaving creams among other beauty products. Do I really belong here? Am I ever going to catch up? I remember my friend from the University of Nairobi telling me that while in campus, you don’t really have to rely on your parents little supply of money. You have to “hustle.” Anyone who’s been through campus can understand what some campus ladies mean by the term hustle. So I tell myself that I am going to be just like Angie in a few weeks’ time. I will hustle hard.
In my pocket, I have two thousand shillings with me. With this cash, I have to do my shopping, change my wardrobe, do my hair and keep some for my daily needs. I cannot waste any moment so I leave my room to go sort my needs in town. Just along the streets, I see very beautiful shoes going at 800 shillings each. I decide to buy two of them because I must beat Angie at this game you know.  And with me I now have less than three hundred shillings. I see another stall with mtumba tops and I buys five tops at 250 shillings. Now I cannot buy any other thing because I only have fare left. I go back tom school all smiles because now I am pretty sure I will be just like Angie when it comes to dressing.
As I sit down to have a rest, I see Angie frying beef as she prepares to make her evening meal. I yawn so deep and remember, the last meal I had was breakfast in my mother’s house. I am so hungry and I cannot afford a single meal because I spent all my money. How I will make it to the end of the month, I have no idea. And by the way, my boyfriend back in the village still dreams of being a big time hip-hop rapper, even though the only hip-hop artiste he knows is Willy Paul. Wait, I am so hungry, and I can’t borrow Angie’s food because she just saw me come from town to shop. Dear sponsor, may you come to my rescue. I want to hustle from you so hard.
#Diaries of a fresh campus lady

Dear world
I do not need to rekindle any old flames anymore. There is a new fire inside me that awaits to be lit. Please bring me back to life.
# sassythoughts


There is a feeling of greatness that accompanies the ability of a person to hold back those tears no matter how bad they want to flow. There is a feeling of greatness that comes alongside the ability of a person to hide those emotions, be it pain, pleasure joy or sadness. There is greatness in the ability of a person to maintain that calm nature despite the string of emotions and thoughts that might be fighting within, wanting to show up.
If you want to be a great person, if you want to be safe from the people who read you and then use the results to bring you down, learn to be mysterious when it comes to what you feel. This act will save you a great deal of heartbreaks, pain and disappointments. You finally will realize that it has helped you to maintain a certain level of respect amongst your peers and those who look up to you. You think am kidding? Look at the way heads of states behave. Look at the way kings and Queens carry themselves. Less exhibition of emotions brings about an exhibition of greatness.