The Contemporary Woman

Category: Life

  • 5 Major Benefits of Self-Discipline that Prove It is Exactly What the Contemporary Woman Needs to Succeed   

    5 Major Benefits of Self-Discipline that Prove It is Exactly What the Contemporary Woman Needs to Succeed   

     Almost every successful person accounts their success to self-discipline. It is that cliché that we just keep hearing, just in diverse versions. The question is, is this really all it takes? Is self-discipline all that or is it just overhyped? As a contemporary woman striving to build a career for myself, build my physical strength and without compromising being a present mother, I have been actively working on building self-discipline. I can guarantee that on the days I stick to the daily routine I formulated, prioritized tasks and upheld tie management, I achieved so much—almost thrice as much as I do during the unplanned days.

    So, what do these benefits look like for the contemporary woman?

    You Achieve your Goals

    Yes, successful people—business owners, athletes, authors, and tycoons—do not lie when they attribute their success to self-discipline. In fact, as a woman dealing with the complexities of being a modern woman, one of the best things you can do for yourself is build self-discipline.

    “Self-discipline propels you towards your goals. By staying committed to the process, you increase the likelihood of success in both personal and professional endeavors,”

     Dr Pavana S.

    The Contemporary Woman is always busy, always multitasking. Women are working multiple jobs while still fulfilling their roles as mothers. So, when you add chasing your dream job or entrepreneurship venture to the mix, it becomes hectic. For you to be able to do all this without procrastination or giving in to the fatigue and a million distractions, you need self-benefits. It’s the only way you will achieve your goals.

    And women are doing it!

    You Experience Remarkably Increased Productivity 

    Self discipline includes creating a routine, time management and prioritizing tasks. By doing all these, you will experience fewer distractions and improved focus, which will ultimately contribute to a spike in your productivity levels. The fact is that by being a self-disciplined woman you get to work on your effectively and productively and still get to have a life. You still get to work out, go grocery shopping, meal prep, help with the kids’ homework, relax and binge on your favorite show and even have a social life. You become a boss babe!

    You Consciously Make Better Decisions

    Self-discipline requires you to prioritize tasks such that the most important tasks—the ones that contribute to the realization of your set goals—are done first. This ultimately translates to better-decision making because as a disciplined individual, you must weigh in on the importance of what you want to venture into as well as the consequences of your choices and actions. The best thing about the benefit of improved decision-making is that it will help you both in your professional and personal growth and development and propel you into becoming the woman of your dreams.

    You get Increased Self-Esteem and Confidence

    When you become self-disciplined so much that you start seeing improved productivity, you feel good about yourself. You feel worthy; like you can achieve that goal or dream that seemed way out of your reach. You love yourself; you are proud of yourself. It gets even better when you realize you are meeting some of your set goals, you are overcoming obstacles. You realize you are who you think you are! As a result, your self-esteem and confidence skyrocket. And from there, it only gets better, because the newly found esteem and self-confidence now become the fuel that propels you into a future full of even more achievements.

    Your Mental Health Improves. 

    Once you build self-discipline, it becomes a lifestyle. Time efficiency, high productivity and winning become part of who you are. This ultimately reduces your stress levels because you no longer have to deal with the stress of late deadlines, unfinished tasks and the anxiety that comes with procrastination. You evolve into a contemporary woman who always has a clear mind, a woman who is set on achieving her dreams and a woman with an overall enhanced mental well-being.

    One catch, however, that comes with self-discipline is that it differs for different people. This is based o various aspects such as the set goals, age, current situation among others. The less responsibilities you have, the less self-discipline you need to achieve your set goals. Also, the more you want to achieve, the more discipline you need. Generally, you need to tailor your discipline such that you are disciplined enough to meet all your responsibilities, conquer your challenges while working on your set goals. So, maybe, just maybe, you have not seen or experienced any benefits of self-discipline—or enough benefits—because you need to be much more disciplined than you already are. This is where I lie, but just like you, I’m working on it!

  • 5 Key Tips to Foster Self-Discipline for The Contemporary Woman—The Bonus Tip is the Secret  

    5 Key Tips to Foster Self-Discipline for The Contemporary Woman—The Bonus Tip is the Secret  

    The Contemporary woman oozes masculine energy—she is career oriented. She wants more than to be a mother or wife. Unfortunately, this only makes her life more complicated because it just adds more to her plate. This is where self-discipline comes in. As one of the said contemporary women—a mother—and a career woman, I find that managing time is what could make or break me. I know that if I perfectly harness the power of self-discipline, I can do it all.

    “The foundation of a strong self comes from small acts of daily discipline.”

    But self-discipline does not come easy, you have to sweat for it. You have to choose to do the small habits that will eventually build the character of the woman you want to be come. She is the one who will achieve your goals. It might be hard, but that will make the success that much sweeter. And while it might be hard, the key strategies below—when done correctly—are all you need.

    Set Clear Goals.

    Setting clear goals is the first step to realizing self-discipline. When you have clear goals, you know hat you are working for which comes with great determination and focus. It is also best to set realistic and achievable goals. As a contemporary woman juggling between the many nitty gritties of what it means to be a woman in the society today, breaking down your goals into short-term goals is deal. These goals are smaller, and seemingly doable—achievable. They make it easier to stay focused and motivated. The best part is that when you achieve these smaller goals, the thrill from achieving them becomes even more motivation that fuels you into completing the other set of smaller goals. And within no time, you have achieved those long-term big goals that seemed unachievable.  doable

    Create a Routine and Stick to it.

    Setting clear goals is easy, achieving them is not. After all, “success is 1% planning and 99% doing. So once you have the set goals, creating a daily routine is the holy grail that will help you achieve them. When you are juggling between being a traditional woman—mother, wife—and a modern career woman, chances are you always feel overwhelmed. You are almost always tired, stressed, and overstimulated because you have to block your feminine energy and tap into your masculine energy. This could result in procrastination because its never the ideal time to work on your goals. Creating a daily routine will clearly outline your daily tasks and help you work towards your set goals. Of course, the routine will only be effective once you stick to it.

    Prioritize Important Tasks

    Once again this comes down to the chaos that come with being a contemporary woman. You always have something or you to do, whether it’s for yourself or for others. To ensure you are focused on achieving your set goals, prioritize your tasks, because the idea that you can do it all only weighs you down when you find out you cannot.  Identify the most important tasks you need t complete each day and focus on accomplishing them first. Prioritize them on your daily routine. This way, your activities will ne more organized, fewer, and this will stop you from feeling overwhelmed.  

    Be heavy on Time Management.

    At this point I right sound like a broken record but being a woman is a lot! It comes with plenty of responsibilities especially when you are a mother and a career woman. Is a lot. This way, apart from creating a routine and prioritizing tasks, practicing time management is the only way to accomplish your set goals.  Time management helps you to do so much work, I seemingly very little time. It helps you to curb all the distractions that come in between tasks enabling you to be tie efficient. It relieves you off the mental load and the anxiety of always feeling you have so much to do, but not enough time.

    Consistency is Key

    When all is said and done, it all comes down to consistency. How consistent are you in creating a routine, prioritizing tasks, and managing time? How consistent are you in building self-discipline? To build self-discipline ad realize your goals, you must stick to your daily routine, even when you do not feel like it. You must stay consistent, do what it takes, because that’s what it takes.

    “True freedom is impossible without a mind made free by discipline.”

    Bonus Tip: Have an Accountability Partner

    I know we said staying consistent is the way to achieve self-discipline but when you are doing it alone, it might be hard to do it. When you are not accountable to anyone, it means no one will know whether you do it or not. So technically, you will not feel like you failed. This is why for a bonus tip, I decided to weigh in on the magic that is having an accountability partner. Share your goals with someone —preferable someone with as much drive as you, someone you hold in high regards. They will keep you committed and motivated to building discipline to achieve your set goals. Because apart from yourself you want to make them proud too.

  • The Untold Thorny Matrix of Motherhood

    The Untold Thorny Matrix of Motherhood

    As a mother of one, sometimes I wonder, how a mother divides their love wholesomely among their several children. Like, when I get another baby, will I feel the same way I feel towards my Leroy, or will it be different? How will I be able to still love Leroy–like I do–and still love another baby the same? Now, this might appear lame to some of you, but it really is a legit question, and not all mothers are able to perfectly distribute their love to their children. I mean I have heard bitter people complain that their parents openly favored some of their siblings. But still, I know of many people who cherish and praise their parents for loving them and their siblings equally– but differently depending on their various personalities, needs and wants.

    Still, this remains a fear of mine, what if in future, I cannot be the best mother to all-considering I am still learning on motherhood. However, like I wrote on Mother’s Day, Leroy calling me “good mother”, is really quite reassuring. Still on that post, (I guess we can call this its continuation) I had several people replying and acknowledging the fact that I remembered that toxic mothers do exist. I mean, how could I not. As much as most people adore their mothers and gush over how loving they were, and still are, there are some people who cringe at the sound and thought of their mothers, literally!

    I remember back in primary school; I had a classmate who shuddered at the thought of her mother. I mean, she was completely petrified by her. She never carried her homework home, most of the times, but chose to finish it in school because when she got home, being the first born, she had to help her mother. She was a single mother, and being the first born, the girl, let’s call her-June- was undoubtedly the assistant mother. She was completely responsible for her siblings whenever her mother was not around which some months was a lot, seeing that her mother often worked nightshifts. I remember one specific day where she came to school looing quite worn-out. I mostly got to school early, so on that specific day, I could tell she arrived earlier than usual. I did not even have to ask, she told me that the previous night, she slept outside, with no supper, as her mother’s punishment for getting home late. Now even I was scared of her mother. And to this day, I can perfectly remember how that seemed liked the worst punishment I could ever receive as child. Every time I offended my mother, which I tried not to, I had this deep fear that literally gave me anxiety at the thought that she would give me the same punishment.

    Toxic Mother

    Needless to say, that was my first encounter with the idea that mothers could be cruel. Of course I grew up and learnt that there were many of such mothers, and worse. There are mothers who are physically abusive to their children, those that are psychologically abusive or both. I find it extremely sad and disheartening that some of these mothers believe that is how motherhood should be. That to be a great mother, you need to be tough and harsh, and violent lest your children stray–the typical “African mother.” And while they may mean well, it just isn’t right and doesn’t make it any less abusive. And sometimes, it becomes too excessive to be considered anything other than toxic. Sadly, like in the case of my friend, it was just a bitter single mother projecting her stress and frustrations on her child-Knowingly or unknowingly.

    Then on the onset of the rise of the Contemporary empowered woman, came the dawn of absentee mothers. Now, given that I represent the voice of the contemporary woman, and a woman who believes that women should never have to choose between career and family; a woman who has addressed mom-guilt before and still insisted that it is okay and there is absolutely no shame in getting help to raise your child, yes, I dare say that there are absentee mothers.

    You see, there is a thin line between being a working, busy mother, and a negligent mother who is even barely one. Now now, here me out before casting your stones. There are the contemporary mothers who do not want to experience any inconvenience, nor do they want to change their lives in the slightest bit to accommodate their children. These are the mothers– and I know some of my readers might hate me for this– who take their children to live with their grandmothers and only go to see them once per year, on Christmas. Now I am not too ignorant as to not understand that there are situations and circumstances that force some mothers to do this, but there are those that do not even try. In fact, they send their kids there to escape from the responsibility.  These are the ones who never call to talk to their children, never send upkeep money, buy them something nice, go and spend a few days or even have them over for even a week when schools close. These are the mothers who make it their job to deny, and even hide that they are mothers to their city folks. The worst part is that, because of this, even while their circumstances may not be suitable for them to live with their kids, they do not even attempt to fix the situation, because they see no future living with their children.

    Now here comes the most controversial part about this writing, and motherhood in general–women who choose not to be mothers. The era of toxic mothers, combined with the rise of absentee mothers, and the women empowerment has seen many women re-evaluate their choice, to be mothers. In fact, there have been several celebrities who have come out and clearly stated that they do not wish to get children. What I do not understand is why these women, despite representing the voice of many received so much criticism. Some of the reasons these women, and the many I have heard with the same opinion cite for their choice is; they wish to focus on their careers, or they feel motherhood is not for them-because they do not want to be responsible for children, or because they do not want to be tied down. I mean, aren’t these very logical and valid reasons to choose not to be a mother? Let us not pretend like motherhood is not a ‘job’ on its own. Like some women do not become mothers and regret it their entire lives, because if we are being honest, most absentee mothers never wanted to be mothers or weren’t ready to be.  

    Thorny Motherhood

    I am a mother yes, but if any woman chooses not to be a mother, I would absolutely support them. In fact, I love the fact that the contemporary woman is so empowered that they know that their value in the society is not limited to their being mothers. I love that the contemporary woman knows that they can get the uttermost satisfaction not just from motherhood, but also from fulfilling careers. But above all, I love that some women are ready to break generational traumas by choosing not to be mothers, rather than being terrible mothers and scaring a whole other generation.

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • The Most Toxic Person in Your life Can be Yourself-and so Can Your Biggest Fan!

    The Most Toxic Person in Your life Can be Yourself-and so Can Your Biggest Fan!

    I took a much-needed (or was it?) sabbatical these past two months. Well, if I’m being honest, it was just supposed to be a short break but thanks to self-doubt, procrastination, and well life, what was supposed to be a two weeks break escalated to a two months break which might have just been what I needed, or maybe not, who knows? Oh yes, I do. While it might have been necessary, at first, I think it was a bit exaggerated.

    While I was away, I loved that I could still see some growth on my page, well even though small, it was good affirmation for my soul. Also, while I was away, so much happened in the public eye­, that affected the contemporary woman, so yes, it really caught my attention and I’m sure going to address it in due time.   

    What I have learnt during my sabbatical of self-evaluation and well, procrastination, is that you cannot pour from an empty cup. You must always, take care of yourself, even when it means sometimes, taking a break, and or focusing on one thing first.

    Almost Empty Spilled Water Glass

    And do you know what else I have realized; you must always be ready and able to stand on your own. Be your cheer leader, your greatest fan. It doesn’t matter who told you they got your back. Because you know what, they might not always be there-they too are busy slaying their own demons and might not always be at your beck and call. Or even worse, as it is in the human nature, they might change, you might fall apart, etc. So, who will hold you then if not yourself!

    Interestingly, being ready to stand up for yourself includes standing for yourself, from yourself. You’ve got to learn to be sick and tired of your own shit. Your own poor choices, your excuses, your poor patterns, bad behavior, and toxic characters. This is the only way you’ll totally learn to be the best version, by keeping not only being your biggest cheerleader, but also your greatest critic. Because honestly, sometimes, we really are our biggest setbacks, it’s not even funny. ­­­

    Oh, and guess what, you see those things that are always triggering you, you have to learn how to deal with them. Because nobody cares, and people cannot always walk on egg shells to protect you.  It’s not their responsibility to protect you. Yes! that is just how selfish and ruthless the world is. It is up to you and only you to learn how to survive.

    Finally, I have heard this quite a lot, and I just didn’t know how true it was. Here it is, you’ve got to unlearn so much of what you know or believe in. because well, you were taught by adults who were also learning. And maybe it was best suited for their time and now it just doesn’t cut it today. Or ̶̶and this is quite a twist- you were taught by adults who didn’t know any better, probably because they were still learning and figuring things out themselves.  

    So, what I’m I trying to say? You know that deep passion we always have when talking about our woes and misery. How you have been and/ or are going through a lot. We need to learn how to channel that same passion and more when addressing the good in our lives. And maybe then, we’ll learn that it really isn’t that bad. Or maybe, just how easily we can make it work for us.

    ❤️❤️❤️❤️

    Nyambura Macharia

  • My Mother’s Story Part Two: Getting Help

    My Mother’s Story Part Two: Getting Help

    We had quite a smooth trip after which we arrived at the hospital  around 10:30 a.m. I remember thinking, we are only thirty minutes late, that’s got to be some kind of record I’ve made(I’m always late, which makes everyone late) However, just as we were about to get in the hospital, we got the shock of a lifetime. We had left behind the most important documents of all. Well, not literal documents–the CT and MRI scans. This is what would have been referred to as a classic Joyce move, had I been the one given the responsibility to carry the images. I still don’t understand how the images were left behind. But in hindsight, I believe that it was really God’s way of showing us that–like my mother had said before–everything was happening just as He had planned.

    December, 2022

    Despite our disappointment, we really had to think fast, and organized for the images to be sent through a matatu. This would take 3 hours for us to get them but what choice did we have? Also, coincidentally that day, Dr. F.Koech, the one my mother had an appointment with, was running late. Now this was a blessing in disguise, and part of God’s plan, because we could not see him without the scans. Three hours past and the driver said he was still on his way. Apparently, there was a lot of traffic jam as the road was under construction. At this point we had started to panic because doctor F.Koech had arrived. But who is God? Turned out he first had to go round the wards checking on the other patients and possibly discharging those he deemed fit. I must say that, the wait had become too long that we had started to get sceptical about the efficiency of the hospital. But it’s just because we were anxious and scared of history repeating itself–shame on us for doubting them.

    In an hour’s time, we already had the images and we were carefully directed to the waiting room–just me and my mother. There were quite a number of people waiting which was sad because they all had the big CT and MRI scans. It was sad because I realized just how many people are dealing with health issues everyday, and just how far some travel to find medical help. Seeing my mom, the nurse who took her blood pressure was so sympathetic. She pulled me to the side and told me, “I really wish you could see the doctor first, but it will be unfair since the others have also waited, seeing that he was late today.” However, she told me that after the first five patients went in, she would squeeze us in. And to her word, she did. That meant that in less than 30 minutes after the scans arrived, it was our turn to see the doctor. 😊

    Finally, he sighed, looked at my mother and asked, “Mama you mean all this time you have not been helped?” “naona umesumbuka na umezunguka sana,” he added. He then finished with, “Lakini usijali, umefika.”

    At this point I really had to ask whether he could help her just to be sure, and he said yes. Again he rechecked the images (which I loved, because it showed he really was being meticulous in his work). The interesting thing was that he never even once examined my mom. Nothing, he just carefully analyzed the images. After around 15 minutes, he now started explaining to us, her exact condition and what really needed to be done to treat her. He told us that as a neurosurgeon he would be the main surgeon, but her tumour covered other areas. Thus, he needed a team of surgeons; an eye surgeon, an ENT surgeon, and a beautician (I intentionally avoided using their professional names since this isn’t a medical blog). My mother was shook when he heard this because she had heard it before in her previous hospital and it had taken a year. But to our surprise, Dr. Koech started making the phone calls immediately. My mother and I were in total bewilderment when he said that she could even have the surgery that night! I mean literally, “tulikua tumefika.”

    Sadly, the ENT specialist was not available  as he was scheduled for another surgery later that night. However, he promised to be fully available the following day. By this time, it was around 5 p.m. so we really did not mind waiting until the following day. I mean, my mother had waited a whole year! Plus, actually it was for the better, so that we’d all have settled in and rested from the journey. We thanked Dr. Koech and headed to the admission desk where he directed us.

    The following day, February 19th, we were told by the hospital that my mother would need at least 12 pints of blood for her surgery. This meant that we had to find donors so that the world blood bank would provide the paints of blood. Remember my brother and I had never once, set foot in Eldoret. Luckily, Leroy’s dad had, and his cousin-brother was fortunately in Eldoret. We then called my cousin who called some of her friends to come donate–she had schooled in Eldoret  and pretty much grown up there. God was seriously overseeing everything for us because when we could not find enough people to donate—some of us were deemed ineligible to donate–we were given an exception.

    Finally, around 3 p.m, my mother was wheeled into the theatre room, and we did not see her until the following day. Get this, my brother and I were the signatories to her surgery. I know I’m a mother, but that has to be the  most  “adult” responsibility ever. During the surgery, my brother and I stayed outside the hospital, trying as much as we could to avoid that discussion–I honestly think distraction is the best way to handle tough situations. Still, it was hard to avoid the many calls which kept coming in, especially on mom’s phone.

    At around 9 p.m, one nurse came and told me that my mother was out of surgery and had been wheeled to the I.C.U and we could see her the following morning (I was the only one allowed to sleep in the hospital, as the caretaker)  She said it with a smile so even though she didn’t tell me, I knew the surgery was a success. I called everyone who had contacted me, informed them and finally I could sleep.

    The following morning my brother was at the hospital by 6:30 a.m. and fifteen minutes later we went to see her. Miraculously, she was already awake, and the swelling, was gone! We could barely acknowledge the bandage on her head, nor the discomfort she must have been in from excitement. She was back to her “old self.’’ Believe me, it was almost unreal! The good thing was that she was not in pain as the stitched part was still numb, and she was under heavy pain medication.

    The third day, she was stable and she was transferred to the ward. At least there, I’d keep her company so she wouldn’t get bored. We stayed at the hospital for ten days through which we were treated with uttermost professionalism, hospitality and kindness. By the time we were discharged, my mother might not have been fully healed, but her improvement was nothing short of a miracle. And for that, we’ll forever be grateful to God, and the entire Tophill hospital fraternity. Because that is where we got help.

    One year later, my mother is doing so much better and resuming her normal life 😊

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • My Mother’s Story Part One: Finding Help

    My Mother’s Story Part One: Finding Help

    This past Saturday, 19th February 2022, marked exactly one year since my mother got her life-changing surgery. Over the past year, I have mentioned in several of my stories about taking her to the hospital but I have never really written about it in detail. I have intentionally avoided writing about it because of various reasons. 

    First, I didn’t want to attach her before pictures to the story, because they just break my heart. Second, part of me felt (still feels) like by writing about it, I would be trying to use her illness to popularize my blog which would be the last thing I would want to do. Finally, I don’t know. I just wasn’t (still isn’t fully) comfortable writing about it.

    So why I’m I writing about it today? Because my mother—God Bless her Soul—insists that the story could help someone.

    “You know you’re scared of posting the before pictures because of how bad you think they are. But those are the ones that need to be seen the most. There could be someone in the same or worse situation and once they – or their friends and family see them – they would know where to turn to.” Her actual words.

    She had been going to KNH for almost a year following a twisted web of appointments that led nowhere. Her condition got exceptionally worse and turned into our worst nightmare. Of course, she’s right. Nobody should go what she had to when there was another way out.

    So now more than ever, the story needs to be heard.

    After my mother had been in Kenyatta for a while, we started looking for options. That’s when I learnt about Top Hill hospital. I mean I had heard about the hospital before, but it so happened that Leroy’s father had recently taken a friend of his to the hospital and he had received the help he deserved. What amazed me, was the convenience with which he went and got his treatment (which happened to be a surgery).

    So one day I was telling him (Leroy’s dad) about how my mother had not yet received help, and she kept on getting worse. Her face was literally swelling by the day. That’s when he suggested that we try taking her to Top Hill. I had thought about it, but it was just one of those thoughts that you did not fully have because you brushed it off too fast. Somehow, I did not find it feasible to ask my mother to travel all the way from Thika to Eldoret to get treatment. I myself had never even been there. Also, you know the typical thing is for a patient to travel from Eldoret to Nairobi to get treatment. I also didn’t think that the thought would even be embraced by my mother herself, leave alone the rest of the family.

    Either way, I googled Top Hill, trying to get their contacts, and I did. You know what even seemed more unbelievable to me, as soon as I texted via WhatsApp, I got instant feedback. And not, it wasn’t the WhatsApp autoreply messages. The hospital actually had a functional customer care service desk and helpline.

    I told my brother about it and he told me to pursue the enquiry before I could ask mom about it. However, ” the guy I was talking to” through the helpline number asked me for my mother’s medical history. You see, he wasn’t a doctor, he was just the receptionist, so for him to confirm whether the hospital could help my mother, he needed her medical history to confirm with an actual doctor. I had told him that my mother was in Murang’a at the time, so it would really be a bother to have her travel all the way when she had no assurance that she could get the help she needed. And honestly, he really got me.

    However, this also meant that I had to call my mom to ask for images of her medical records, and so I had to tell her about “my plan”, ready to do a lot of convincing if I had to. But contrary to my expectations, I didn’t have to. She was ready to try anywhere else. With the excruciating headaches she was having, she said was ready to try anywhere. “Handū ha ndūre ngirītīte Kīnyata,” as she put it–Kikuyu to mean instead of always trying to pursue help from Kenyatta Hospital.

    After my mother sent images of her medical history, everything moved really fast from then on. I forwarded the images to the guy and within two hours or so, he confirmed that my mother could get help. He further advised that it was best for her to meet the hospital’s main surgeon, who is also the founder of the Hospital, Dr. F. Koech. Now the tricky part was that he was only available on Tuesday and Thursday from 10 a.m. When I received this information, it was on a Tuesday evening. That meant that if my mother was to make it to see him that Thursday at 10 (the much-desired outcome), she had to travel the following day. So we had to act fast, and I wasn’t sure such a long journey could be planned in such a short time.  Either way, I called my brother and according to him, Thursday was the only option. (He had taken mom to KNH the previous day, and according to him, her state was an emergency).

    So that evening he went home and together with my dad they made the necessary arrangements and my brother was to travel with my mom the following day. The plan was for them to come and spend the night at my place, Kaplong, which is a reasonably close distance to Eldoret. Either way, we still needed to wake up early the following day since it was still a 3-4 hour drive to Eldoret. I had not seen my mother for a while so when I saw her, I understood why my brother thought it was an emergency.  Her eye and entire left face were so swollen that she looked nothing like my mother😞💔.

    19/2/2021: the day she was to receive treatment

    I couldn’t even get myself to look at her. I felt bad that she had been going to KNH from the time it was just a minor swelling up to the point where her face was literally deformed. What broke my heart the most was that all they had done on her last visit was tell her they would call. As if they hadn’t told her that before.  And I felt I had failed her terribly for not seeing her often enough to know she needed a way out. But, she kept on saying not to worry because everything was happening as God had planned and I just could not fathom the faith in that woman. It was admirable, palpable even. And as we later found out throughout her treatment process, she was right again, it was all in God’s timing.

    So on the 18th, Leroy’s dad, my brother, and I took my mother to the hospital…(to be continued in part two)

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • Boy If this Skirt Could Hear (and Talk)

    Let me give you a short–interesting–story about this here skirt. When I bought this skirt, over the December holiday, I bought it huge. When I saw it in the market, I liked the print so much that I just couldn’t leave it. I knew that I would never get it–or the chances of me getting a similar print in my size were extremely slim, if at all.

    I thought it was cheesy to buy it in such a big size–it was like a size 20–so I left at first to buy that which I had gone to buy.  On my way back home, I saw the skirt again, and this time, I felt like it literally called me,😂
    I had been looking for a similar skirt for a while so I was like, kama mbaya mbaya and I bought it. The lady selling it even gave me a discounted prize to cater for the cost I would pay to have a tailor slim it down for me. Interestingly, I got this really loud vibe from her that she knew it would be an epic fail. You know, she really hastened the “transaction.”

    When I got home and showed my mom the skirt, she was baffled. She could not believe that I had actually bought the skirt. She kept on asking, “Wee wakenio nī iyo” (you actually liked that one). She even went a head to say that she could not even wear the skirt herself. It could fit her, but was slightly bigger around the waist.

    Now when my dad saw it, he was shook. But of course, to his nature, he used humour. And what surprised him most, was that I liked it so much, that I had bought it in such a large size. So he was like, “Īyo anga kaba ūngīgūrire material” 😂 (instead of buying that one, it would have been better for you to buy the material) Like so I could simply have it made in my size😂
    Fast forward to the following day and I really nagged my mother to take me to her “best fundi” to slim it down for me. For a pleated skirt, I needed a tailor who has had ample experience or they could have ruined the skirt for me, just like everyone envisioned.

    Lucky for me, my mom knew of this lady whose work is quite impeccable–starting from the dress she was wearing.  She carefully aligned the pleats as she cut out the excess part of the skirt and diligently stitched back paying attention to the slightest of details so that the pleats could align seamlessly like no work had been done on the skirt.
    All this while she asked me to put it regularly so she saw how it was coming along, and as she fitted even more to have all the pleats inline. Not to exaggerate–don’t mind me if I do–but she was the real deal! The best part was that in around 30 minutes, she was done. Needless to say, I was a happy client! 😃

    For the first time, my mother got an idea of what I envisioned with the skirt. And even though she could not understand why I was interested in it–she felt the look was way off of my interests–she actually loved it.
    When my dad got home in the evening and heard that I had fixed the skirt, he was intrigued that I actually put it on for him to see. Of course, he said, “anga tinjūru” ( its like it’s not bad)–you might not believe this, but coming from him, that was actually a compliment.😂

    The interesting thing is, I was not shocked that they reacted like so. Because if I’m being honest, two years ago, I would never have even thought I would be interested in a pleated skirt. And to even buy it?!

    I guess, I am evolving, which is a good sign. I mean, it is growth. But sadly it’s a classic sign of growing old😭
    But also, I’m certain so many of y’all contemporary women can relate.

    Bonus–Side– Story…….

    When I first wore the skirt and took a picture in it, my cousin replied to my status calling me a “wife material.” Coming from her, that was an insult—a huge insult. ( I had on a tank top, so honestly nothing going on) So I sent her pictures of other girls wearing  similar pleated skirts–the look I was going for– and she was wowed. Now I wondered, how come they get a wow and I get a boo.😭

    So she said, “the skirt is nice, I love it, but if you are to look good in it, wear a crop top.” Or as she put it “don’t be boring, show us some skin” 😂 I must admit, it did look better like so. Except to my cousin the top still wasn’t short enough lol😂


    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • How was My 2021 you Ask? 🤔

    The Perfect Image Representing Me for the Bigger Part of 2021 😅

    This year has been quite an bizarre one. I cannot explain whether it was short or long. When I look at it in the context of wow, it’s the very last day of 2021 I am in awe. I mean, damn! didn’t we usher in “the new year” just the other day?

    However, when I look at it in regards to the numerous events that have happened to me, the people I know, our country, and the entire world, it has been quite a long year. I mean it has really dragged it’s feet!
    Before I started writing this piece, I felt that this year was totally bad to me. But now that I think about it, it hasn’t been all bad. For starters, this year my mother received treatment in the clearest of God’s paths and after 8 hours of surgery, several months of recovery and another minor surgery, for the first time in a while, I can say she is great😃 Now you can imagine that this “hospital period” and that of her sickness was tough so you can understand why my 2021 comes off as awful as the first feel.

    Now I could write so much about 2021 but maybe I should just focus on the highlights.

    Of course I have to start with this website, my safe haven. For years I thought about creating it, but never executed it. I love writing, and so for me to have a space where I can do what I love by expressing myself and being the voice of “The Contemporary Woman” is such a great win for me. It is also a dream come true, as small as it may be, and I can’t wait to explore this path and see myself, and this lounge grow.

    So I guess, apart from being alive, happy, healthy, and safe, together with my family (these are very underrated “obvious” blessings that we really should stop over looking) my two main positive highlights of 2021 are my website, and my mother’s recovery😊

    Now getting through the year has been quite hard. My job faced the highest deep this year which meant I was broke for the most part of the year. This is normal, I know, it happens but it was the hardest because dome of the people in my circle had their best financial years. Now I seemed to really focus on my problem which only made it that much bigger. But hey, I learnt that I am a good person, because I was able to celebrate my friends wins, when I seemed to be doing nothing but lose. And you know what else I learnt? It gets better, because some of those friends who were celebrating wins have been through really hard times in the previous years, so now it was their time to win!

    This year, I experienced new levels of pain. First there was the pain of seeing my mother sick, which came with the agony of seeing her as a “person” Before, she was my mother, but being sick, I saw her from a different light. I saw her as an individual who was vulnerable, and one who could get so sick that they needed me.

    Just last month, I experienced pain I can never describe. The pain of seeing a young couple mourn their child, whom they had so much hope in. Now that was tough, very tough. You know, being in a group of people whose hearts are so heartbroken that you feel it so much that your mind formulates a visual depiction of how their hearts might look; and just how much pain they might be in. Never before have I ever seen a mother so broken that I wished there was a way I could feel at least some of the pain for them. Neither had I ever seen a father so broken, but still trying to be strong for his wife, and family, that you know he is using every ounce of strength he has. A time when you were numb from seeing so many people broken that you cannot cry, that you feel guilty and like you are a bad person because you are not crying.

    But through it all, they survived, we survived!

    Indeed 2021 has been quite a year! And as tough as it was, it shaped and prepared us for 2022. And we can only hope the new year will be a great one! Either way, “The Contemporary Woman” —you and me— we will deal with it as it comes.

     Take the bull by the horns😊

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • Unlearning, and Relearning the Definition of a “Broken Home”

    Unlearning, and Relearning the Definition of a “Broken Home”


      Working from home, I mostly love to sit in my bed (my office) and write alone in the silence. It is so quiet and serene which is great both for my thoughts, and my writing. Although sometimes it can get too comfortable that I lose a whole day 😭. Today, my quiet was interrupted by the wailing and screams of a woman, whose voice sounded familiar. These screams followed a loud thud from what I believe was a man hitting her. The thud sounded again and this time, she screamed even louder. By then, there was commotion as I started hearing the voices or two more women, and that of a another man—aside from the attacker.


      The argument continued for quite a while and I couldn’t help but thank God their older kids were not around to watch—being a school day. I could not quite comprehend what they are saying because they are speaking in Kipsigis, but I could hear the clear cut pain and hurt in her vibrating voice. To be honest, such incidents scare the hell out of me 😱 However, every time I pray to God that I never become that woman on the receiving end. I always find myself thinking, but that woman never asked for it either. She too, prayed to never be in that position and yet there she was.  So what makes me think I am so special?

      You know the saddest thing about such cases is that sometimes—most times—these women stay. They stay, hoping, and praying that it gets better. Because when is it really the right time to leave? And you know, sometimes it is not about traditions and the aspect of women being told to stay, “vumilia” and pray. It is not about, “ what will people say?” It is about a woman who still sees the good in the man she loved. A woman whose heart still has not come to terms with the fact that that man hitting them, is not the same man they fell-in-love with. I woman whose heart is so broken, but one who still loves.  💔💔

      Over the past two years, I have seen so many of these cases that, I have involuntarily turned into a really bitter woman. It is very unfortunate for me that I might never see marriages and partnerships in as much positivity as I did before. Or was I just naive and living in a cocoon of the Disney happily ever after? — I loved it better there.


      I read on a blog I love (they had  shared the post)  that the society should stop viewing single mothers as to having broken homes because theirs is not the typical home of a father, mother, and children.  Their homes are not broken, they are a conventional home, and happy family of the mother and her kids. Broken homes are unhappy homes filled with chaos, homes where the children live with parents who are always fighting, or homes where the parents do not talk to each other. Such homes and families are so broken that they can only be best described as roommates!

       Whenever I hear a child scream because they saw their dad hit their mother, or their mother throw something at their dad and it almost hit them, or the story of how such events happened, my heart (even in a movie, because having seen it in real life, I no longer see it as just fictional acting) I imagine the pain, confusion, anger, and resentment in children brought up in such homes, and how it will affect them as adults, and I wish I there was a prayer, or a magic potion that could make sure they happen.

      Visual Representation of a Frustrated Boy


      You know I wish there was a way the contemporary woman could tell and know that their long-term relationship and or marriage would not work in the future. That the person you trust will one day turn into the one that wrecks you, and the family you built together. Then we would simply let them go when it is easy. Because honestly, teaching your heart to leave when you have spent 15 years and shared 2 to 3 kids with them, (and you don’t know who you are without them) that has got to be the literal leap of faith.  Sadly, most women do not get the strength to choose themselves and do it. Instead, they choose their families; they stay for their kids.  They just are oblivious of the fact that they choose broken families themselves and their kids. We really need to unlearn, and re-learning the definition of a broken home.

      ❤❤❤❤

      Nyambura Macharia

    • Childbirth is Rosy, but Roses have Thorns too ;(

      Childbirth is Rosy, but Roses have Thorns too ;(

      Can we talk about how social media is portraying childbirth to be so easy and rosy?

      I don’t understand why vloggers and influencers are working so hard to show how, easy, fast, and painless their childbirth was. I’m like come on, I thought that was the only thing we agreed as women? Just how devastating and excruciating childbirth can get. If anything, I think they should exaggerate on how terrible it is. I mean, women lose their lives in labor!

      When I had Leroy, I was completely clueless about childbirth or children. I remember going to the hospital thinking, Thank God, it’s now over. After the baby is born, my life will immediately go back to normal. But no, that wasn’t the case at all—In fact, very far from it. I do not want to address labor pains because we have all been told how painful it is, and that we are all prepared for. What no one tells is what happens after the baby is born. Because the legend goes that, as soon as the baby is born, the pain magically disappears—very cute of a story.

      But what exactly happens? After the baby was born, there is that shivering that nobody tells us about, and the acute hunger, and general body weakness. But that’s not what I want to address either. My intention is to address the healing process after leaving the hospital—that I didn’t know existed. I really thought after the baby was born that was it. Woe unto me because, Wueh! Those were some tough days.

      The first day the pain was tolerable, my body was numb, I guess, because that seems like the only logical explanation. Then came the second day and I try to wake up and I seriously cannot. I felt like I had been in a road accident and every bone on my body was broken—no exaggeration. But I would struggle and use all the energy I had to literally pick myself up. It was an entire process stages that had a literal chronological order. First, pick my head, then the upper part of my body and sit. Then twist my legs to the edge of the bed then slooooowly get up with my hands getting support from the bed.

      Once I was up, now getting back on the bed was a problem because sitting down was another huge task. Again, I had to sit very slowly clenching your entire body and supporting your hands on the bed so you can feel as little pain as possible (which is still a lot)

      Let me not get started on the constipation because what the hell was that?!

      And then there is the famous, “you have to sit on hot salty water for your stitches to heal faster.” Do you have any idea how painful that is? When even bending is a problem? And doctors just tell you to do it like it is the easiest thing. Like, give me a heads up Doc! What about the denial and depression that comes crawling? The self-loathing? Because I thought I was crazy when my stomach turned pitch black and I was not sure whether it happens to everyone else, or if it would ever resume its typical color.

      And lest I forget the mother of them all, breastfeeding! You know the first few days, cracked and scaly nipples, sometimes oozing blood instead of milk. But you are a mother now, you must endure to feed your baby. Because if you don’t, that little creature will scream and almost drive you insane, as if you already aren’t.

      You know because of all this some women get postpartum depression so bad that they get suicidal, hate their babies, and even try to harm and or kill them?

      So no, you can’t get a baby and continue with life like nothing happened. I bet those influencers sleep the whole day and just “lift” themselves up to take pictures or a video for 20 minutes. I don’t blame them, that is their work, that is how they earn their living. But trying to make the rest of us feel like only we are exaggerating and theirs was easier, that I disagree.

      Worse is the peer pressure to normalize bouncing back after childbirth. I mean, naturally,the belly takes time to shrink back, and it should be that way. Why would you expect a belly that grew in a span of 9 months to shrink in a week? That is just unrealistic and honestlyubderrrates the whole idea of pregnancy and life bearing. Honestly, why not depict pregnancy and childbirth as candidly as possible?

      So you see such posts, about how childbirth is all rosy, do not believe them. Roses have thorns, and they really sting! But that is the prize you must pay to enjoy the “Rose”

      You know to date, when people ask that nosy and wrong question of why haven’t you got another baby yet, Leroy is old enough now. My answer is always—bado sijai pona, 😂😂😂😂

      Yes, I have never healed.

      ❤❤❤❤

      Nyambura Macharia

    • Ladies, We Might Be Part of the Problem 🙁

      For many years, we women, have discussed and complained of the injustice, double standards, and discrimination within the workplace. Women have a steeper ladder —decorated with thorns — to climb up their careers. A ladder that is built such that the society almost makes it impossible for women to climb. Still, the contemporary woman works as hard as she can to beat all the stereotypes and prejudices that come with being a woman. Unfortunately, as women, we are part the problem, and form part of the reason why the society disrespects and disregards our efforts. But that is not a conversation we are ready to have, is it ladies?

      One of the biggest challenges women face in the job market is the expectation that they have to give sexual favors to their bosses for them to get job promotions, or to actually get the jobs in the first place. As women, we are unanimously highly against this very uncouth, disgusting, and self-degrading act and we always rush to blame the men for putting women in those uncomfortable and humiliating positions. I mean, it is easier to blame the men, because how dare them right?!  

      Plus, men are trash, men are dogs, and men, MEN will embarrass you.

      So why not blame the gender whose name has already been dragged through the mud? Before you go after my throat, for seemingly defending men, I do blame men. They are the bigger part of the problem. I blame men because they are the ones who deny women – who were otherwise qualified – opportunities because they failed to give in to their sexual advances. I blame men because they do not know when to stop. I blame them, and I am so bitter, because they have made employment life hell, for young girls who got into the job market very optimistic and confident in their qualifications.

      But do you know whom I am more disappointed in? No, I am not even just disappointed, I am disgusted with the contemporary women who gave men that power. The women who literally use their bodies to seduce men, and or give them sexual favors in exchange of jobs and promotions. It is because of these women that men see it that every woman should do the same so they can give them job.

      Because of these women, every other woman who bursts her ass off through years of hard work and resilience in the harsh job market cannot enjoy it and be given the appreciation and acknowledge they deserve. You know why? Because people are quick to judge and assume that they, “slept their way up to the top”. “Because sadly with the double standards in our world today, once one woman does it, then every other woman does it (it’s what women do).

      Have you seen the video going rounds shared by Sonko on Nkatha showing him her breasts? In the video, she was the one who initiated the topic; she wanted to show him. It was her way of getting Sonko to get her the job she wanted. And have you seen the conversations about the video? Most of the memes now are “fear women; these people will do anything” or something of a similar tune. But there was a specific caption to the video that really caught my attention. I saw it on a news blog and it read, “Sonko Titty Tuesdays zake zaja willingly.” Yes, what men took from the video (I say that because the most of the comments beneath that video were written by men), is that women are now doing it willingly. And Sonko, has an unlimited supply. So, what to be a man means to them, is to be like Sonko.

      You know what will happen now? Men will expect the same from women who want job opportunities. You know what the saddest part is? These women are there, and they will send the videos and whatever else they have to, and they will get the jobs and promotions they want. From a certain angle that approach could actually be viewed as a win. However, it’s not, and that’s the unfortunate bit. These jobs and promotions will not go to the women who are qualified and deserving, but those who for lack of a better way to put it – use their bodies to get them.

      And sadly, as women, we will continue to blame the men. I mean, don’t we all blame Sonko for leaking the video without her consent? Because if he hadn’t how would we have known about it? We would not, and Nkatha would probably get the job she wanted from Sonko. But was she qualified for it? What’s even sadder, is that maybe she was but did not want to earn the job professionally when she could just simply flush her boobs and bag it.

      Oh yeah no, that was not the saddest bit. The saddest bit is that, she is not the last woman to do so. In fact, hers seemed like an easy task since it was just flushing skin through a video call. Women will still continue to use their bodies to get jobs and promotions. And men will continue to expect the same. And the cycle will never be broken; that will be the norm if it already isn’t. Woe unto you ladies who choose to uphold your dignity and self-worth and actually earn your jobs and titles, you’re in for a tough ride. However, you are the real deal. Because you will endure the struggle, and have absolute pride in not only your achievements, but also, you (we) are the strong women striving to change the narrative.

      But I know that there are some women who would not agree with me. And being that we are walking in a grey area, and this is a lounge for the contemporary woman, I would love to hear it from their perspective.

      ❤️❤️❤️❤️


      Nyambura Macharia

    • These Women Need Compassion, Not Judgement

      Yesterday I went to get my hair done. I have a specific lady who does my hair – let’s call her Jane. Jane has always worked from home since I knew her so go to her home to get my hair done. The reason she worked from home is that she felt like her son was not old enough to be left behind while she went to work. Funny story (horror story depending on who you are), I was almost bitten by her dog while I knocked at her gate. Acting like the typical me, I screamed like a banshee as I grasped for straws that were not there. I could feel my heart pulsating aggressively in my chest as I stood outside the gate panting. Just as I was about to leave, feeling lucky to still have both of my legs, she arrived on a motorbike. Turns out she had recently opened up a salon so she told me to wait for her to get inside and change so we could head over there together. Of course, I waited outside the gate, it’s not like I wanted a second interaction with that bloodthirsty creature!

      As we headed to the salon, she told me that she now felt her son was old enough and she had gotten a sitter. She further explained that she had linked up with another woman and they had rented the stall together. The other lady – let’s call her Sylvia – was selling shoes, while she was running her salon in the same space. I thought that was a rather a subtle approach and I was proud of just how innovative the contemporary woman can get. Now they cost-shared on the rent, and had complementary businesses. I mean, I’ll visit the salon for the hair, but if I see some really nice shoes I will definitely go home with them.

      While I was getting my hair done, the topic of child birth came up (teren teren 😱). You can expect that to be a sensitive topic. Each one of us narrated their individual experiences and we compared the events involved and how they took place. I am becoming more and more surprised on just how often this specific conversation comes up. Somehow, sharing the various traumatic experiences of labour and child birth is just as satisfying as watching crime and murder documentaries – or even better. I also feel like it’s a great way for women to bond because in the instances I have seen the discussion come up, every woman is keen to listen to the other person’s story, and throws in the occasional “Right!” and “me too” in the conversation. In our conversation at the salon yesterday, we all seemed to agree that labour was so excruciating, but there are some women who do not experience the pain at all. Shocking, right?! Anyways, the conversation suddenly pivoted into the topic of miscarriages.

      Sylvia mentioned of how the musician Size 8 Reborn had had a miscarriage and just how unfortunate and sad it was. I then mentioned that around that time another famous lady – Aunty Jemimah – had also lost her child in a stillbirth. The conversation was solemn for a while as Sylvia explained how it was unfortunate that many celebrities had lost their children, and even added the case of Kambua who also lost her child sometime this year. Jane was of the opinion that these celebrity women should keep their pregnancies private because sometimes it is because of some people’s “evil eye” that they lose their pregnancies or babies. Jane went ahead to insinuate that these celebrity women’s pregnancies develop complications after overly-publicised baby showers and pregnancy shoots. But Sylvia jumped right in to correct her that Size 8 had indeed kept her pregnancy secret and had only just revealed she was pregnant when she developed complications and lost the pregnancy. So far nothing too contentious, right? But then Sylvia threw in a claim that left me in bewilderment.

      She argued that most of these celebrities, get miscarriages, still birth, and other pregnancy complications, as well as lose their babies soon after birth because of “the things they use.” At this point I was confused and asked her to explain. She explained that they use special products to prevent pregnancy and monthly periods that subsequently causes their misfortunes. On this front, they agreed with Jane and that confused me even more. I was confused because earlier on in the conversation, the two of them had cited that they were on contraceptives and that they have not gotten their periods since they embarked on them. Are these not some of the “things” the other women used too? Why did they have to be judged? Ooh, right, because they are celebrities.

      Sylvia was not done with her shock bombs. She pointed out that for Kambua’s case, she could not get a child for a long time, because she had waited for long before getting pregnant and trying to get a baby. I mean, but I have seen women get married in their mid-thirties and get pregnant pretty easily. Some young women also struggle to get pregnant. What does not getting a baby early got to do with anything? What is worse is that Kambua’s second baby unfortunately passed on after he was born. It was not about what Kambua possibly did or did not do.

      Sylvia also pointed out that some women get miscarriages because they have had multiple abortions. She explained that for a woman who has terminated many pregnancies, their bodies may understand that after for example 7 weeks, the pregnancy is supposed to be terminated, which causes miscarriages. This part I cannot confirm whether it’s true or not (for now). However, from the whole conversation it became clear to me just how many myths, biases, and stereotypes surround pregnancy and miscarriages. Celebrities are not the only women who lose their pregnancies, get still births, or have their babies die soon after they are born. These cases are more common than you can imagine. It’s just that for celebrities, we find out, and for the other people we do not. From that conversation, based on the two women’s intonations, their gestures and facial expressions, you could smell discrimination from a mile away. And I think that the contemporary woman needs to know that miscarriages are not the woman’s fault. About 10-20% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage! You seriously want to tell me that all these women brought it upon themselves?

      Some of the many many causes of miscarriage include: infections, exposure to environmental and workplace hazards such as high levels of radiation or toxic agents, hormonal irregularities, improper implantation of fertilized egg in the uterine lining, maternal age, uterine abnormalities, incompetent cervix, stress, accidents, and other spontaneous cause. I would like to dive into it but I am no medic, and I would not like to mislead anyone. Maybe I could get a doctor to elaborate more then give you all the details.

      The point is, there are so many cases of miscarriages and I feel like it is very unfortunate that these women get to be judged, faulted, and even shamed instead of being comforted. Even if a woman really did terminate their pregnancy, and that were proven (scientifically) to cause miscarriages, do they now deserve to lose all their pregnancies or babies soon after they are born? I think the contemporary woman needs to change their mind-set on miscarriages, stillbirths, and losing children. These women are already suffering from too much heartache to be judged. Let us be compassionate, and support each other.

      ❤️❤️❤️❤️


      Nyambura Macharia

    • The Beautiful and Complex Nature of Female Relationships

      In the first part of this story, I asked the contemporary woman of the oddest ways/places they have made friends. I then went ahead to give examples from my personal life and I am happy that some of y’all gave me feedback on examples from their own lives.  I have to say, that some of those stories were hilarious. Who knew girls could meet in male washrooms? If I remember correctly, at the beginning of that piece, I touched on just how complicated the friendships of the contemporary woman can get but never really dove deep into that. Today, we address that😃. That said, this is the story of the complicated relationships women have with each other.

      Friendships among us women get so complicated because of the weight we put into them. And I guess it starts pretty early in our lives. I remember while in primary school I had two best friends. Interestingly, that is the only time that I can say I had actual best friends who knew they were my best friends – Lynn and Lucy. We were so close that now when I look back at it, it is almost like we were in a cult! We used to go to this swampy area in our school and make wishes from some of the clear water ponds. We did everything together including planning our individual futures. Apparently, we were all to be surgeons 😂😂😂. I am glad to say that one of us— Lynn— is indeed a doctor and surgeon! As for me, the sight of blood makes me gag and lightheaded. Oh, and Lucy now works in a bank. Ours was a love story of three naive girls. Who knew it would end? Ooh wait, fate did!

      We drifted off after finishing primary school. Fortunately, Lynn and I went to the same high school and while we kept in touch, we were evolving. We were both trying to fit into a new environment; a competitive environment. The fact that we were in different classes did not help either, and eventually the besties status got buried. The case of Lucy is even sadder because after she went off to a different high school, we lost touch and finally, our friendship was reduced to a memory. I constantly tried to get her phone number, but to no avail. The few times we met in church while both of us were in campus, she did not reciprocate my enthusiasm in saying hi. I don’t blame her, because as we all grew, we changed, and possibly for her, the Lucy I knew in primary school, was not the Lucy she was then. Anyways, it’s not like it was all bubbly with Lynn. Despite having Lynn’s contacts, I cannot remember the last time we met. We do talk, and I consider us good friends but we are different individuals from who we were back then – we have noticeably grown, especially because of our varying career paths. Life has also given both of us character development to change our perspectives and attitudes in life. Nonetheless, it still great to know that I still keep contact with one of my only official best friends.

      In high school, I never had a best friend, so I really did not have any experience with complications from friendships. I was always the girl in the shadows, and that gave me the chance to see many friends have their friendships get complicated and eventually break. My classmates never had best friends so to speak, unless such friendships were formed after school. What they had were groups, or should I say gangs? There were gangs of the cool kids, gangs of the most beautiful girls, and those who were “dating” boys from the same school. The interesting thing about these gangs is that it was very easy for them to betray each other. There were times they gossiped about the “queen bee” of the group, “she is not the most beautiful in the group I am,” and sometimes a member of the group would get a letter from a boyfriend to another member of the group. Add the juvenile energy of teenage girls into the picture and you can imagine just how messy that got! There were also the occasional public humiliations, the ghosting, and the classic spreading of rumours. Needless to say, these turned into entanglements which eventually broke.  Well, since teenage girls never learn, new groups always cropped up, and the vicious cycle continued.

      Now, in campus and beyond is where these complicated relationships get really intense and ugly! At this stage, we are just being initiated into adulthood, and get to interact with real adults, but still have the little girls in us.

      Have you even been in a situation where you are introduced to your (guy) friend’s girlfriend and you and her become really tight. Like both of you just get each other, your energies match and you actually develop real friendship. Then, this is where it gets tricky, the two break up. You know how weird it gets when you are with the girl and then bump into the ex (the guy) and she does not want to see him? It gets even worse when the guy gets a new girlfriend. Now you are confused, should I get to know her too and become her friend or is that being disloyal to the guy’s previous girlfriend (my friend)? I mean, you have to, maybe she is nice too, and friendly. Now the worst-case scenario is when you become friends with both girls, because both of them are queens and you share different interest. How do you balance the two friendships? What if one of them feels bad, or is angry that you are still friends with the other?

      However, the beauty of the contemporary woman is that we are fast-evolving and in some cases, it is possible for the three women to be friends.

      Now let me give you an example of myself. When I was in campus, I had a friend—Mary. She was the closest I ever got to a best friend, after my two primary school sweethearts 😃. I might even consider it better with her because well, we were trying to navigate adulthood together so the problems were “real” then. Also, she brought ndumas (arrowroots in the white man’s language) to school during opening days and I loved them. It got to a point where I could call her and ask her to bring me some. I mean, even my mother called her when she couldn’t reach me. It was true love y’all. Unfortunately, when I got pregnant, I pushed everyone away, including her.  I also did not want to tell her I was pregnant because I felt ashamed, and thought she would judge me. At the same time, she had also started being friends with some other girls — they are still friends to date— and I felt like, she did not want to be my friend as much. I mean we saw each other less and less, because I was hiding from her, and because she was mostly busy with her new friends – I felt like she had abandoned me. Also, I was jealous of her newly found friendship.  We slowly grew apart, and because we did not talk, rumours—lies while we’re at that— got to me about what she had allegedly said about me. It turns out that she also received rumours about what I had allegedly said about her. Unfortunately, we could not compare notes, so I believed what I heard, and so did she. By then, the damage was so bad that she literally walked past me without so much as look at me. But you know what, we had a real connection! We eventually started talking again, maybe after a year. The funny thing is, we now discussed what she had heard and vice versa and it was just quite interesting baffling really of how much our words had been twisted. Our friendship thrived again and we became close once again. Still, she continued with her friendship with the other girls and am glad she did – at least they can be there for her when am not. We are still friends to date, we don’t talk on a daily, but we make long phone calls when we can.

      So yes, female friendships can be silly, messy, complicated, and even turn into literal entanglements and situationships. I’m sure you ladies have your own examples.

      ❤❤❤❤

      Nyambura Macharia

      .

    • Which is the oddest place/way you have made a friend? I’ll go first.

      Which is the oddest place/way you have made a friend? I’ll go first.

      Ladies, let’s talk. Have you ever been heartbroken by your lady friend? Have you ever made a friend in the weirdest of places or circumstances (like in a hospital, public washrooms, a bank queue or in your mother’s Chama meeting which both of you were literally forced to go)? Have you ever lost your girlfriend because they stopped being friends with your other friend? Ooh, this is a good one, have you ever cut short a good friendship because they stopped dating your brother, cousin, or your guy friend? Do you have a lady friend whom you totally love and trust with your secrets but you two met online and have never met in real life? And finally, the mother of all bombs, have you ever made friends with your man’s ex? If you can relate to any of these, or any other similar ones that I have not mentioned, then this article is for you. If you cannot relate to any of the above stated, then you are in for a ride.

      Men probably think that the most complicated relationships women are involved in are the romantic ones. Honestly, I would not blame them for thinking so. I am sure even some women think the same. But believe me, philia love among women can be just as complicated. But before we get to why I’m saying that, let me tell you one of the most unconventional ways I have made friends.

      Most friendships and relationships are the typical “girl-meets-girl” stories for instance meeting in school—either primary school, high school, or campus. Another very common story is making friends from family ties – family friends as they are commonly called (funny enough; I have none of these). These friends happen to be some of the most important people in our lives. Still, we have other friends whom we’ve become quite fond of, despite meeting them in the most unexpected ways. Let me drop some of mine.

      Earlier this year I made a friend in a matatu while travelling from Nakuru to Thika. She was the most religious lady I have met in while. She literally told me her life story of how she had barely survived as a single mother but now owned a thriving mitumba business. We do not keep much contact now, but at the time, her story was exactly what I needed to hear. It was amazing how she knew exactly what to tell me. She also helped me a lot by giving me a religious approach to dealing with my situation. She said, and I still remember, “if you work for it, God sees. I can now comfortably pay for everything my daughter needs, something I thought was impossible.”

      Then there is this brilliant girl who came into my life at the exact time she was supposed to! We met at the hospital my mother was admitted in the first time she was admitted. We were in the same ward and like I had told y’all in my previous story, that place is a community! We started off talking and she is such a sweetheart. To prove just how much fate had it in for us to meet, when my mother and I went back to the hospital, we met again — totally unplanned. I did not know she’d be going to the hospital that day and neither did she.

      Now, onto last year. I made a friend from a WhatsApp group. She is a beautiful woman who has really grown to be my friend. We almost met twice in Nakuru, but it seems like it’s not time yet. Nonetheless, we have developed a pretty good relationship to the extent that I vent to her about my issues, share my joys, and she also does the same. Just two women supporting each other through the ups and downs of life.

      Okay, now here is the MOAB. Back in 2019 I made a friend; back then she was just an acquaintance but the most unconventional friend out there. She is an ex-girlfriend to my baby’s dad. When the friendship started out, I’m certain it was the typical curiosity and investigative nature of women. For her, she wanted to know what kind of a person I was. As for me, if I am to be completely honest, I don’t even know😂 I was just curious, and respected that she had reached out to me. Later on, the texts evolved into an actual friendship. In fact, I always felt like maybe the friendship would have been better had we met under different conditions.

      Ooh, yes, then there is this woman I met in Eldoret in the best way, I don’t even know why I never wrote about it. As I was going to pick a matatu, you know how those conductors hover over someone?  They were literally all over me, so I decided to leave and go somewhere else to pick a different matatu. After walking like two blocks, I looked back and two of them were still following me. I stopped and told them to leave me alone and that I was not travelling. And you’d think they left me alone after that? Not they did not and at this point, I was scared. Then suddenly, I heard a woman start questioning them.

      “Why are you following her, she said she was not going anywhere. I have been going in the same direction as she is and you’ve followed her for quite some time now. Leave her alone, you are scaring the young woman.” It felt like I was literally being rescued from a horror movie🤧🤧

      Her name was Priscilla — I just had to use her real name— a beautiful woman in her 40s. She asked me where I was headed took it upon herself to accompany me to book a ticket. I felt like I was being too much of a bother to her. Or like I was not being enough of an adult as I was being “baby sat” from the chaos of life. I was so disappointed in myself that I could not assertively tell them to leave me alone. But above all, I felt like it was the world telling me that good people still exist and that for the contemporary woman to survive, we must fiercely protect each other like Pricilla did.

      Finally, there was this ordeal I had last week that pushed me to write about my many many female friends met in awkward ways and places. It was around 7 p.m., and there was this beautiful moon that I was trying to capture with my phone. Suddenly, this girl comes out of nowhere, “Hi, I know you.” She had a mask on so I wouldn’t have recognized her, had she not said hi. Turns out, we met once, in 2019, but were barely acquainted. She helped me take the picture—she offered since she was taller and had a shot at getting a better shot of the moon. We then walked chit chatting since we were headed in the same direction. She was an absolute darling, and I feel like I am about to have yet another good friend drawn out of nowhere. At least with this one, we do not always have talk to over the phone 😅 As always, I’ll tell you how it goes😃😃

      And yes, I could go on about female friends I have made in the most unexpected of places and ways but the point remains the same and I believe the contemporary woman can relate. In my next post, I will talk about how some of these relationships can get complicated and turn into literal situationships and entanglements, you certainly don’t want to miss that!

       ❤❤❤❤

      Nyambura Macharia

    • I am My Mother’s Daughter

      I am My Mother’s Daughter

      I have a confession. It has literally taken me 25 years to have the best relationship with my mother! I grew up as an only daughter and sister to three brothers. Being the only daughter, you would expect me to have a rosy relationship with my mother, right? Even I expected the same honestly, but it was very much the opposite.
      Growing up my relationship with my mother was always shaky. We could never last two days without an argument. I remember one time I threatened to report her to the police for child labour 😂😂😂. Okay, it was not that my mother overworked me. In fact, there was not enough work for her to overburden me with in the first place.  It was just the usual house chores, and the occasional trips to the shop. The problem was me! “Honestly, me sipendi kutumwa…😭😭.” I can say that now, and even tell my mom, who perfectly understands me to be of that nature, but imagine having a 12-year-old daughter who you can’t send anywhere without them whining and whingeing.


      It was torture for my mom, I imagine, having just one daughter and never getting to enjoy their company because they were angry at you most of the time. When I got to high school, our relationship should have become easier. I mean at that time, I could wake up and conduct all the necessary chores without my mom having to tell me. Unfortunately, our relationship was still shaky and we had no time to bond because of the sorry yet unavoidable fact that I was mostly at school.
      Also, now that I think about it, I am certain that while at school, I was kinda embarrassed of calling my mom because the “Nairobi kids” made the rest of us feel like calling and speaking to our parents in mother tongue was the most shameful act imaginable (Paleeeeeseeee!). So, being used to using kikuyu with my mother, our ‘Kiswahili phone calls’ were direct and straight to the point.


      Fast forward to when I finished high school and left home to stay with my aunt, whom I should respectfully call mother as well. Either way, mum or aunt, she is such a delight! One of my favourite persons actually. While I had the chance to bond with her, once again my mother and I had no chance. When I got to campus, our relationship started blooming. Suddenly, we didn’t argue as much when I got home from school. I understood that she had to “order” me around and I knew when I was wrong. Despite being stubborn, I tried to see life from her perspective. I knew that it was bad to say no, so even when she told me to do something and I hated it, I still did it. She had also grown to know me by then, so when she could tell I didn’t want to do something she had asked me to do and she was in a position to do it, she did it.


      During my second year in Campus I got pregnant. While the scared me thought it would break the newly found relationship with my mother even before it blossomed further, things took a turn for the better. My mother never once shouted at me, even though I know it was hard for her to explain to people why I was pregnant. Because believe me, they asked. Somehow, she knew that I had already “punished myself for my sins.” For me, her being able to understand me and stand by me when she had every reason not to was everything. Still, I did not want to burden her, so once Leroy was born, I did not leave him behind when going to school. This, my mother loved about me. It was like my stubbornness was finally a good thing 😊😊


      She would always call to ask how we were coping, and juggling with school. Even though I didn’t know it then (because to me it was what I was supposed to do), turns out I was killing it! By the time I was done with campus, my mom and I had an okay relationship. By okay, I mean, above average; definitely miles from where we started, but so far away from where we are now. I could say at the time, we were just acquainted 😂😂😂


      Our relationship then still had boundaries. For instance, I can now tell my mom I do not want to do something, or go somewhere. Then, I could not😂 She was more of my mother than she was my friend, and I was still partially afraid of her and she partially felt like she had to keep some distance between us to maintain the respect. From the year 2018, the year I moved out of my parents’ house, my relationship with my mother has just flourished!
      I think as I grow older, I resonate more with my mother because I grow to be more like her each day. As for her, she has grown to understand that I am different from her and accepted that. She understands that I do not have to do things exactly how she does them. And unlike before, she is welcome to learning new and unconventional ways of doing things. How did I even forget to mention this? One of the greatest reasons my mother and I disagreed was because of how I did “things”. The different ways in which I mopped the house, did laundry, and especially the way I cooked! My mother was not open to new ideas. I mean, in most cases she was right, but in some ways, I was right. But being a stubborn child, I wanted to do it my way, and she did not like hearing, “the end justifies the means.” 

      Remember when I said I was growing to be more like her every day? I am that controlling woman who wants things done her way now! *Sighs* Funny thing is, my mother is so open to seeing things from my perspective now – which I love!

      Oh yes, there is another major aspect which has greatly contributed to my “perfect” relationship with my mother — I don’t know how to defend myself. I am always the oppressed person who calls their mother whenever people and the world turn on them. I will always be silent then call my mother to report about all the evil things y’all do to me. So the next time we disagree and I jokingly tell you, “nitakusema kwa mamangu,” I’m not joking 🤣 Heck I even tell that to my Leroy— and actually report him by the way. Ooh, and yes, my mother calls me to talk to my dad on her behalf now.


      My mother has been admitted to the hospital twice now. It has been sad yes, but not without its advantages. First, she got better, and second, the time spent with her was exactly what our relationship needed to fully blossom to, “my ideal” relationship with her.
      We had enough intimate time, to just enjoy each other’s company. I could explain to her what I do, and am planning to do carefully such that she understood. I got her perspective in life properly, tapped in on her very spiritual self, and much more. For the first time, I can now be totally free with her. And she does not feel like she needs to be “my mother” for me to respect her. She knows the respect is there.  Ooh and the best part, we could gossip about y’all for hours😅
      No, maybe that’s not the best part, I think the best part is I can tell her, “aki mom usinitume saa hii,” or “na mom leo umenituma sana.” And maybe she can hit me back with, ” na bado utaenda nikikutuma tena.” And she’s always right, because despite being stubborn, I am not disobedient. And in light of our “perfect” relationship, I would never say no to that woman.

      Speaking of which, I just remembered that her birthday is in five days, so now I can tell her over our routine hour-long phone calls, that this is my gift to her😅

      ❤❤❤❤

      Nyambura Macharia