Thought tide

The elephant in my room. It started with a simple question. "How is business going?" Not sure if we are ever ready for the answers that come from such open-ended questions. In my mind, I expected a simple "Good." Or "Tough." With a very brief explanation to follow. Instead, this turned into a one-hour conversation with my Bolt driver on the way home. The first twenty minutes were quite engaging. The next twenty, mostly him talking with a few comments from me. The next twenty, no contribution from my end, just the occasional "Mmm..." to reassure him I was still there. But was I really? Don't ask about the last thirty minutes. A feeling of annoyance. Brain fatigue. Every nerve screaming, "Please...just shut up!" I instantly regretted my question. I was aiming for brief pleasantries, not a full business concept, proposal, wins, failures...and future projections. So this morning, I received a call from my daughter's school just to c...

The messy in-between. TOL, proud of you, my not so little princess... Or maybe that's not the right way to put it. Wednesday afternoon. Home alone. Just perfect me bonding time... YOU. The number of times I've watched this creepy series is astonishing. I like the vibe almost as much as I find it creepy. Beck...craving to be seen. To be chosen. Her character, the typical dreamer striving to write, to do poetry, to articulate thoughts into words. But totally lost. Childhood trauma. A constant struggle to be seen. Quite the messy in-betweener. One moment dying to be a badass, the next settling for the bare minimum from the people around her. Joe chooses her, but possesses her in the worst possible ways...even eliminating those close to her because he feels they are a threat to what they could possibly have. Even attempts to fix her, to be the version he thinks suit her. However, can one really fix another person? One Sunday morning...An emotional conversation... I blubbered, ...

Mourning the Loss of Possibility It was close to midnight on a Sunday. Usually, I'd be fast asleep, preparing my brain for the coming week. This Sunday, though, I was wide awake. Busy chatting away. He texted, "Observe yourself. See what needs adjusting and what needs to stay. You've been in fight-or-flight mode for too long, so letting go is hard for you." I replied, "Letting go? Of what exactly?" He responded, "Letting go of a leadership role you've been forced to take for so long. There can never be two alphas in a relationship. It will be chaos through and through." I stared at that message for a while before typing back. "I don't desire to be an alpha. I want someone who will take charge, but still be mindful of my feelings. Here is the thing though... My brain has been fighting this belief that most heterosexual men generally hate women." He replied, "You've summed it up perfectly. Your brain tells you men hate wome...

When I say the devil is in the detail, I mean it. Lately, I’ve been speaking fiercely over my life. I stubbornly refuse to have murmurs… I am intentional with my gratitude. I think it often. I openly confess it any chance I get… I even say it when I hold doubts in my mind. But when I say the mind is a bully…mine has to be the leader of the gang. Btw, if there were two days my tummy has growled, it must be yesterday and today. Not from underfeeding, just some kind of upset… Ever felt like your gut is “rotten” without any medical proof? The windows will be opened at night… If you know, you know🤭 Back to “meaningful stuff.” This gorgeous lady from Pop the Balloon asks a potential match: “Anyone in your life, alive or deceased, who has made you look at life and see things differently?” She mentions her younger sister who passed away a year before, who taught her to go for what she believes in, what she wants in life. I pause on the episode… Not because it was an ambush thought...

So I wanted to write a beautiful love letter in the month of February. Why not to someone? Perhaps because with people, I can choose to feel the love or not. But money love? I’m not so sure about this one. It feels one-sided. Then someone would randomly ask, what is love? I would sum it up as adoration and consideration. But you, you stay too short a time. No sooner are you around than you want to leave. Why don’t you stay? You are needed. You are wanted. Then you would ask, you let me go so fast and so easily. Truth is...I struggle to let you go. Every bit of you exiting feels like a piece of me left void. I let you go not out of ease but out of lack of choice. Then you would say, why not multiply me so that I stay? I do not have a clear answer for you now, But please...stay a while. Regards, The one you leave behind😏 Dedication song playing in my head... Money comes to me easily, money comes to me fast Money loves my company when money comes at last While heading home, my stopover...

 Today feels like one of those mornings where faces blur into each other. A lady passes by the mathree I’m in and for a second I think, Isn’t that Joan from high school? She comes closer and, no. Not even close. She’s inches shorter, chubbier, round-faced. Joan was tall, slim, sharp-featured. Memory playing tricks again. Minutes later, another woman fast-paces past the Citi Hoppa. Isn’t that Achieng? Someone I worked with a couple of years ago. She disappears before I can confirm. Maybe it was the walking style. Maybe it was just my mind still half-asleep. Anyhu...I try to mind my business. Until Classic FM decides that 8 a.m. is the perfect time to debate women who don’t support their spouses when shit hits the fan. Like...really? It’s barely morning. The never-ending gender battles. And then my mind drifts to a video I watched recently of a grown man in tears, explaining how his wife wiped their joint business clean. I sympathized. These stories are no longer rare. Both...

Middle age has a way of turning the volume up on money. Suddenly, every decision echoes—savings, debt, health, the future. Time feels shorter, comparison gets noisier, and financial choices carry more weight. Still, this is not a panic stage. It’s a clarity stage. Wealth-building here isn’t about catching up; it’s about finally paying attention and making intentional moves. It starts with belief. Believe that you can save. Believe that you can invest. Believe that the numbers can change. Without belief, even the best plan stays on paper. Next, get specific. Vague goals create vague outcomes. Write down what you want: a home, retirement security, school fees, freedom from debt, or peace of mind. Then map out how you’ll get there. Clear goals give your money direction. Improve how you understand money. You don’t need to be a financial expert, but you do need financial literacy. Learn how investments work. Understand compound interest-time is still your ally. Know the tax implications,...

 I kept my voice steady, held my gaze, trying not to cause alarm. But it really bothered me. I was concerned.  I once told a friend that while people insist on “not burning bridges,” I bomb mine. I don’t look back on past relationships. I hold no enmity toward any of my exes, but I’m not one to cling to any kind of relationship after we part ways. So one would wonder how, after a decade, I’m suddenly having this conversation with my ex. We both blubbered about how life can slip through our fingers so fast, how we ought to be ready and prepared for exit. I asked him, “What does that preparation look like?” He gave me an unsure look and said, “Just live knowing each day could be your last.” Then that unpopular phrase;“What do you bring to the table?” came up. Oh, how I hate that phrase. While you pursue her, isn’t it because you already foresee something she can offer? I even smiled remembering that meme: “Don’t ask me what I bring to the table. I bring absolutely nothing. In ...

Over dinner with Hailey yesterday, our chat drifted to school events. She mentioned a boy in her class who boards while the rest get to go home. I thought that was unfortunate, even unfair. She explained that sometimes he comes to class with unfinished homework. Understandable, because they’re given way too much for one evening. Four subjects, each with two digit questions. It’s just impractical. And yet, the same child is expected to be an all rounder. So where’s the time to play, to socialize, to have family moments, or even to breathe? I told her I was glad that their teacher understands his situation because unlike most kids, he doesn’t have an adult at home to help him catch up. That conversation pulled me back to a memory, three years ago. A sad one. I traveled to Kamba land to bury a colleague, a young mother who passed away after childbirth, leaving behind two daughters-one days old, the other not yet five. It was too much to bear. The grief, the uncontrollable tears, the ...

Lying awake in bed after my morning alarm… lazy, hoping time would move backwards. It’s Friday, and my body aches. I’m just fatigued. Now I’m in a mathree, cramped like luggage. As usual, the windows are just for decoration — no one uses them anymore. Okay. Let’s just breathe on each other like the oxygen inside has been specially conserved for this journey. And honestly, what’s with people playing their stuff on loudspeaker in a quiet public space? Ever heard of ear pods, headphones, earphones... or just something?🤷🏾‍♀️ Exactly a week ago, after work, a colleague gave me a lift. We got talking about nothing and everything. And when I say everything, I mean the kind of conversations you really want to have, but never quite find the right person or the right moment for. You know... the unsaids. But first, pause. I can’t pass my candy lady at the stage without stopping. Even going three days without buying from her loads me with a weird kind of guilt. “Leo umechelewa, na unakaa ...

A matatu ride. A letter from my daughter. A realization about unspoken storms. This is how Hope Club was born—in the quiet spaces where pre-teen girls hide their hearts. But for real, what happened to Kenyan matatu users never opening windows? My goodness. I found myself in a 14-seater with 18 of us packed in. Wah, I don’t know what we’re incubating to hatch into😏? The heat, the discomfort, the sneers when someone dared pick a call... it was comedy and chaos in motion. Anyway, a couple of days earlier, I had received a letter. Not just any letter, but one from my 10-year-old daughter. It was a full complexity of emotion that even adults struggle to unpack. Fear. Insecurity. Protectiveness. Love. It was triggered by what I considered a harmless shift in our normal routine. Nothing dramatic. But to her, it meant everything. She didn’t like it. She even wrote that she felt unloved. That word gripped me like a hand to the throat. I couldn’t wait to get home, to hug her and talk. To ...

A personal tribute to my uncle, mentor, and family pillar -25 years gone, never forgotten. Let’s go back… mid-90s. Uncle Gakuo. His white pick-up truck. All of us. Our mums. Our huge bags-bigger than some of us. Nduta Gakuo, Cira Gakuo, Shiku Gakuo, Shiku Kariru, Waithera Marua (big), Waithera Marua (small), Wambui Njung’e, Shiku Mworia, Minneh Njoroge… And of course me-the ‘last’ born of the pack. Those registration numbers on the truck-to this day, I hear “709” and I feel nine years old all over again. Boarding school in an Assumption Sisters hostel was no joke. Oh my… Sr. Mbatha. Madaraka Primary School, Thika: top-performing. For My Future I Toil. That was the motto. And indeed, my mother’s brother wanted only the best for us. 25 years on. His candle still burns brightly in my heart. His love for extended family, those lively get-togethers- all gone with him. I often imagine him and Mum, taking tea outside under our avocado tree. Whenever I think of my education, Uncle Gaku...

Mental Health Awareness Month Reflection. Dear friend, I’m sorry I snapped at you that Saturday afternoon. You were just checking in. But I was struggling — with finances, with feeling stuck in my career, with carrying this quiet weight. And you? You were going through a divorce. You’d just survived a near-death illness that had you in ICU. I promised to be there for you. To check in more. To be a better friend. But I’ve barely picked up your calls. I want to call when I’m upbeat. When I sound like “me.” So I text. I choose WhatsApp, because you can’t hear the heaviness in my voice there. Dear friend, Remember when you borrowed me 5k? I told you, “Once you get it from someone, please share.” Truth is... I needed it too. But I didn’t want to say. My boss once asked what happened to that dream of becoming a counsellor. I told him, “I paused on that interest.” He asked why. I laughed and said, “I think I realized I need the counselling more than I could give.” We chuckled. But i...

A strong feeling of the world shrinking into silence. One moment I am sitting in a simple meeting — not even the scariest one I’ve ever had — and the next, my mind emptied. Completely. Not a thought, not a word. Just blank. Abit of nervousness but something deeper. Something old. Like a bully that has lived in my mind for years. The one that whispers, You’re not good enough. You should do better. You are slow. You are stuck I’ve worked in the financial field for years. And yet, I couldn’t find words to explain the simplest of things. I stumbled, I overtalked, I shrank and tried to cover up the mess with a flurry of nothings. It’s not the first time. The truth is, I feel stuck. Stuck in a cycle of hardwork, barely smart. Watching peers sail past me. Seeing others rise while I stay seated. And worse — carrying the shame of that stagnation, like a stain I can't scrub off. Countless opportunities search in the past. Rejections now a rhythm. On the few occasions I get the chance to spea...

So apparently, I am turning 40. Four-Zero. Forty. The age I used to imagine meant high heels and high bank balances. Reality? I own crocs in two colors, countless pair of sneakers and I check price tags like they’re crime scenes😏 I thought by now I’d have it all figured out — career, family, finances, skincare. But let me tell you, I still Google things like “can you get grey hairs on your eyebrows?” and “how to say no without guilt.” So here is to 40. Not just a number. A milestone. A monument. To every version of me that walked the path-I see you. I honour you. I’m standing here with a cocktail of emotions: awe, relief, laughter, and a slightly panicked "Wait… how did we get here?!" So, in honour of this milestone, I give you: 4 truths per decade — the lessons, the bruises, the beauty, and the bafflement — as gathered from each floor I’ve climbed. Floors 0–10: The Obvious and Not-So-Obvious Climb I was 8, going on 9. Quite short, barely able to carry my oversized b...

  So… the Children Who Wanted to Be Managers, How’s That Going? In my first serious job at a local bank, all I remember is my first manager . Sharp-both in dressing and thinking. Only three staff drove to the office: him, his assistant, and one other person. The rest of us? On foot or by matatu. We were the makers; he and his assistant, the checkers. Ooh, must be nice! That title- manager- was prestigious. At my entry interview, Faith from HR asked me, "Where do you see yourself five years from now?" Imagine me, fresh and blunt, saying: “I want to be a mum.” 🙆🏽‍♀️ Who says that in a bank job interview?! 😏 Well, five years later-I was a mum. Kusema na kutenda! 😂 If they had asked me the same question after I landed the graduate clerk position, I’d probably have said: “I want to be a manager.” Because after a few years observing how powerful these fellas were, that became the dream. Some used their power well. Some, of course, abused it. Like the one ...

3:41 a.m!!! Rather restless. Frustrated. I was in bed by 10 p.m., physically tired, fully expecting a restful night. So why was I still awake at that ungodly hour? Regrets? Three mugs of coffee during the day. Thirty minutes on TikTok before bed. It was supposed to calm my thoughts, not awaken all my senses. The more I tried to sleep, the more alert my mind became. A friend once advised me to listen to rain sounds on YouTube when struggling to fall asleep. Tried that too. My mind wouldn’t budge. Then my brain decided to pick a fight. Mind: "So… you’re stuck in life?" Excuse me?? Not you, my own brain, bullying me at 3 a.m. Me: "Come on. I feed you daily with positive affirmations and vibes!" Mind: "Still… you're not doing enough." Then it hit me-something someone casually said last Saturday: "You're not comfortable. You're just not aggressive." Okay. Even if that were true… what does aggression even look like? Mi...