The Contemporary Woman

Category: Life

  • Something to Take Away from Netflix’s “Maid”

    I have been watching a series on Netflix called “Maid.” Am sure some of you have heard of it. It’s rather new but has been among the top ten trending shows in Kenya for a while now. I have been trying to diversify my stories by focusing on other women’s issues. I believe that for my blog to be authentic and realistic in representing the life of “the contemporary woman,” then it needs to have wider perspective. So, I came up with this idea of writing a story about women I watch on films, or entire films, if they feature ideologies, events, or situations of interest in relation to my blog. These are stories I believe will inspire many of you as much as they inspired me; of course, written from my point of view. Before I got this website, I wrote about, “The Bold Type” on my Facebook page. This time, “Maid” is going to debut, “the Film Series,” on the website. Here’s the drill. I will be writing like one story a week highlighting a story about the contemporary woman drawn from TV and film. Nod if you agree 😄😄

    In high school our Kiswahili teacher, bless her, always told us that, “Isimu ni kioo cha jamii.” If I could vaguely translate that to English, I would say that all types of art such as film produced are an illustration of our society. It explains why different films, songs, comedies, and other forms of art differ in their production, styles, and content; because they represent different cultures, and societies. In this segment of my blog (“the Film Series”), I will write interesting stories and analyses of different women I watch in films. This way, you can learn, and get to discover new films you can also look out for. I mean, I will also get a reasonable excuse to watch at least one film per week.

    While watching “Maid,” I was first intrigued by the main character, Alex, and her rather complicated life (to say the least). But what made me really got me hooked was the realization that all the different women characters in the story had story lines featuring issues that affect different women in the society. From then on, I took the series very seriously and also very personally. It was like I was reading a set book in high school all over again.

    Let’s start with Alex, the main character. Alex is a 25-year-old mother of one who is an abusive relationship. Sounds familiar? That’s because it is! In fact, we’ve talked about it in the past. Alex’s situation is quite sad, mostly because she did not know she was in an abusive relationship since she was not being physically abused. However, that did not change the fact that she was in constant emotional abuse, and lived in constant fear and anxiety that maybe the next time he would snap and physically abuse her.

    The story gets even sadder because she was ashamed of admitting that she was a victim of domestic violence. What would people say? And who would even believe her when she did not have any physical bruises or injuries to back her claims? I know the answer to that should be no one would believe her, and indeed, in the real world virtually no one would believe her, but someone did believe her. Alex found herself in a domestic violence (D.V.) shelter led by a former victim of domestic violence, Denise. Being an old lady, Denise has seen all types of D.V. cases, and she knew that is exactly what Alex was going through.

    While in the shelter, Alex made a friend, Danielle, who helped her face her anxiety and other fears to focus on building her life back. There’s something that Danielle told her that stuck in my head – “before they bite, they bark.” To me, this was the perfect advice for any contemporary woman in an abusive marriage. Don’t wait till it gets worse; because it will. At the slightest “bark”, leave. Unfortunately, Danielle leaves the shelter to go back to her husband which according to Denise happened more than you think. Apparently, the typical woman leaves their abusive husbands for a maximum of seven times before they fully make up their minds to never go back.

    The interesting thing is that Alex, though not intentionally, also found herself back to living with Sean, her daughter Maddy’s father. I mean, he seemed to have changed, even stopped drinking. At some point, even I thought he was a nice guy, a good father. But you see, that’s exactly the point, he was a good father but a terrible husband. Eventually, he slipped right back to his old habits and Alex remembered exactly why he has left. But she felt trapped, she had no source of income especially since Sean had acted irrationally and as controlling as usual and essentially took away the car Alex used to commute to work. So, Alex remained trapped, and became withdrawn and helpless until she was totally fed up.

    This time, when she was leaving, she left with absolutely nothing. Her mind was made up, she wanted peace and a safe home for her daughter, and she knew that she could not find that living with her abusive boyfriend. She got her friend Regina to come pick her up and she went back to the D.V. shelter to rethink her life. She never looked back.

    The story had quite a happy ending. Alex got more jobs as a maid and saved enough to buy a car, she got accepted to a college to study writing, a successful student loan, and full custody of Maddy. Her happiest day finally came and she drove to Missoula, Montana, to study. Her life had begun afresh. If you are a woman in Alex’s shoes, you certainly deserve that!

    Anyways, remember when I said that there were many women in the show whose lives and experiences resonated to various contemporary women?

    Regina was a beautiful, filthy rich lawyer, but she was struggling with fertility, which finally led to her divorce. Alex was a poor, uneducated young mother who needed the strength to leave her abusive marriage and build herself and her career. Alex’s mother Paula was an old victim of domestic violence who turned to skimpy relationships and drugs to conceal her grief and past trauma. Denise who an elderly ex-domestic violence victim who dedicated her life to helping other women who were victims of the same. Danielle was a victim of Domestic Violence who still believed her husband would change despite his constant behavior, and finally Maddy, a young girl who didn’t deserve to grow up in an abusive and violent home.

    All these women represent “the contemporary woman,” working through different life situation sand trying to figure it all out.

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia

  • Thank You Pulse Live Kenya Awards

    It’s 22:16 on Saturday the 9th of October 2021, and my mind won’t let me sleep. Every time I try to close my eyes, my brain is just there talking to me trying to organize a story — this story. Of course, my brain threw me multiple versions of the story but I’m going to simply going to write the most appealing version. No, that is not it, I’ll make it easy for myself. I am going to write the version of the story that I can access the most, the one that flows so fingers crossed that it’s the best version.  You see, sometimes it almost feels like my brain is racing but stuck at the same time. Like the part of my brain that identifies and organizes stories is working so fast but the part that is supposed to direct my writing of the same is lagging behind. So, when I am finally ready to write a story that was already formulated, it is no longer there. It is reduced to just a memory, a shadow of what is left of it.

    Now let me narrate the story in the best way I know how. Ready, set go!


    So, I happened to be scrolling through my Instagram feed today and the detective in me noticed something interesting. There were multiple pictures and videos, mostly videos, from already established influencers and celebrities about the Pulse Live Kenya Awards. I honestly did not know that the awards were such a big deal. By a big deal, I mean the type that are hosted, you know the red-carpet events? I should have known, they are like the Kenyan Grammy Award or something. I underestimated the awards which I later learnt were quite prestigious, and had multiple sponsors and partners.

     
    I couldn’t help but think, “must be nice,” to all the winners. Leave alone the winners, but all the beautiful women I saw all dolled up for the red-carpet affair. I was jealous, I still am, but the good kind of jealous.  The kind of jealousy where you do not feel hate, but you are inspired. I felt a hunger for success that I haven’t felt in a while. I mean, it is always there, but today, it stung. For a while I felt sad, I couldn’t help but feel, that should be me; I should have been there. I probably would have been star-struck so bad, bad enough to be hit by the good old imposter syndrome, but I would have still loved it.  


    It even got me thinking of the category I would want to win or at the very least be nominated (“Blog of the year,” and “Podcast Influencer of the year” if you’re wondering). And then I thought, wow, you qualify for none. I mean, you do not even have the podcast yet! But then again, I thought, no, this is not the time to feel bad for myself. It is the time to feel inspired; which I absolutely am. I am proud of the various women who won the awards. Honestly, they absolutely deserved it.

    It felt good seeing, “The Contemporary Woman,” being represented, and winning. There were categories I never even knew existed, like the, “Positive Impact Influencer of the year,” and “Arts Influencer of the year.” It made me realise that indeed we are all different, and our thoughts, perspectives in life, and paths, are indeed extremely different. Either way, I was quite happy about the winners, most were well deserved. It was quite personal for me on the, “Fashion Influencer of the year Award,” because I wanted Just Joy Kendi to win so bad, which she did! Still, I was in awe and very happy to know she took the win. I mean, I have followed her works on Instagram religiously, and seen how she busts her ass off to make spectacular content all year.  And I know that was the case with every other winner. And that’s not it, it took them years to at least get recognized, and build their brands! You know, the fact that I know most of the winners, and actually even the nominees, and their work, and enough people do to vote for them, took a lot of work and dedication from them.

    So I figured, that’s my power! I am going to work on myself. I am going to write as many stories as my mind can formulate. Stories covering as many events, people, the challenges they face, opportunities, and the dreams that cross my path as well as that of any other contemporary woman who opens up to me. I am going to make sure enough people know my blog, and even actualize that dream of starting my own podcast.

    Before I get to win such an award, I want the award of women trusting me and reaching out to me to share their stories, or to tell me of how much a story I featured inspired them.
    I am going to be, “A Lounge for the contemporary woman,” in real life just like my blog’s slogan declares. If I am ever to at least secure an invitation to the Pulse Kenya Awards, or any other awards (maybe even bigger), I want it to be because of the change my space has impacted on the modern woman. So, as the first step in my journey, I am going to focus and grow this page, with authentic stories from the heart. We can start by being an upcoming blog, right? I’d be happy to settle for that; one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.
    So, thank you Pulse Live Kenya Awards. For making me hungry for more— for igniting the fire in me.



    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia.

  • October is Offering you a Job: You Should Accept It!

    October is Offering you a Job: You Should Accept It!

    Can you believe it that we are already in October? It was literally just the other day that we started off the year. We were all hopeful after a ratchet 2020 we all wanted to end. 2021 was going to be our do-over year. Everyone expected, or at least I did, that 2021 was the year the Corona Virus would miraculously disappear and we would go back to leading our normal lives — or at least what is left of it. Well, sadly for all of us, that never happened, Covid-19 is still there as all we still have to adhere to all the Covid-19 guidelines from our overlords, including the much hated curfew! But it’s all good, if there is anything this virus has taught me, and most of you I am sure, is to be thankful for life.

    Okay, I am getting off-topic now, this article is about the great month of October, the month my mother was born!

    October is a special month to all women globally because it is the International Breast Cancer Awareness Month — BCAM. I have known this since I was in form 3. I remember there was an organization which came to our school to discuss breast cancer awareness. They also volunteered and gave free check-ups to every student in our school with the promise that they would provide preventive treatment to anyone who had the breast cancer genes 1 or 2 — ( BRCA 1) and ( BRCA 2).

    I was too scared to go get checked so I hid to avoid being forced, if it came to that. But I did examine myself during my hiding as was instructed. When doing a breast self-examination, the idea is to check for any unusual lumps  — you want to look out for any lumps that are inconsistent with the normal feel of your breast tissue and come with discomfort or pain when touched — while laying flat on your back. Of course self examination is not as comprehensive as a professional examination, but if done right, you are good to go sis!

    During the breast examination in school, one girl was actually discovered to have the BRCA gene, although I cannot remember where it was BRCA 1 or 2. All I remember is, the dreadful word spreading around the school was, “a girl from 4 North has a lump.” Everyone was so shocked, it seemed like a death sentence. The worst part was that we knew so little about it that she started getting stigmatized. She was “the girl with a lump” and we all behaved like it was communicable.

    It was not a sad story, even though my narration might make you think it was. In fact, as I see it now, it was a rather positive story for the contemporary woman. A story that reeks of hope that for sure, with early diagnosis, breast cancer is totally curable. As the organization had promised, “the girl with the lump,” — I cannot remember her name by the way, but her face stays forever in my mind because of the incident, plus I always found her to be gorgeous — received help.

    The members of the organization, ( I never got the name, or I just cannot remember. My bets are on the latter) enrolled her in their program. They would come pick her from school and take her for tests. Finally, she had an operation and the lump was successfully removed. What could have been a fatal illness was averted and she was free!

    What is the moral of the story you ask? Breast cancer can be fatal, but if detected early enough, it is very much treatable. The girl in my story got a happy ending because of an early diagnosis, and that is exactly what I am driving towards. Get yourself screened by a professional if your family has a history of either BRCA 1 or BRCA 2. For the rest of my fellow women, perform self examinations occasionally, watch out for any unusual lump, and even the slightest discomfort. Do not ignore anything, visit a physician!

    This is the only way that we can have more happy endings; Together we can fight Breast Cancer!

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia.

  • How to Dream at Night Like a Pro (A Complete Guide).

    Sometime last month, I had a very unique dream—the kind I would definitely look for an interpreter if I ever heard of one. I wanted to write about it, but I postponed and ended up almost being fully convinced that nobody cared about my dream (procrastination is a bitch, ladies and gents). Still, it was super vivid and scared me to bits, so I was still inclined towards sharing it. You know those beliefs when we were young that if you shared a dream with someone, it would not come true in real life? I can’t be the only one who grew up threatened but such superstitions. It went hand-in-hand with the one that suggested that if someone skipped over your legs, they had to skip back lest you gave birth to a rat 😱😱😂😂. Come on, I am sure many of you can relate. So, to prevent my dream from becoming true, I shared it with Leroy’s dad, although I am certain he wasn’t exactly paying attention.

    Fast forward to three days ago and there I was walking back to my house in the evening. I looked up at the sky and you would never guess what I saw. Amazingly, the sky above matched the one from my dream. Naturally, I reached for my phone to take a picture, and it did not disappoint. It was perfect. I saw it as a way of the universe telling me to write about the story. Like, here you go, the perfect picture for the story; what is your excuse for not writing about your dream now? I had none – well apart from procrastination, the story would be done already – so here we are.

    My dreams are always very confused about location, time, plot, and the people present, so buckle up. My dream happened in the evening. I would guess, around 5:27 p.m. because that was the exact time I took the picture that matched the sky from the dream. The clouds were grey and gloomy, but there was an opening that had this immense light. Suddenly, it started raining. But it was not your normal rain. This rain was only coming from the bright opening in the sky. The rain was accompanied by a bolt of huge lightning, which also came from the opening in the sky. Yet that was not the strangest thing about the rain. The rain together with the lightning were moving. As they moved along, the lightning viciously struck anyone who dared to step outside.

    Now the location of the dream is more than twisted and hilarious. We were hiding inside what I am certain was my form four high school class. Now that is not hilarious on its own; it does when I tell you that the compound outside that class was from my primary school😂😂😂. The plot gets even more twisted because Leroy was also there, a few of my campus friends, and none of my high school or primary school classmates. Ooh, before I forget, here’s another gory detail – the lightning moving with the rain did not strike children, only adults. I remember Leroy and another baby, whose face I never saw, going outside to play and we were all panicking and shouting at them to run. And just when we thought the lightning caught up to them, it moved right past them. And that was it, I woke up, panicking as you can imagine.

    The funny thing is when I woke up the following day, the events I just narrated were vividly fresh on my mind. It is weird because, on most occasions, I forget my dreams before morning. But, what is even more astonishing to me, is that I can still recall all these details almost a month later. But I guess I should be grateful because then, I got a story to share about one of my many award-winning dreams.

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia.

  • The Story of “Mami”; Trust Me, You Will Love Her.

    The Story of “Mami”; Trust Me, You Will Love Her.

    My mother has been admitted to Top Hill hospital in Eldoret since Thursday last week. I could have written that my mother and I have been admitted, but that would mean that I am also a patient. The truth is, I am just here with her, as her caretaker, or so the hospital calls it. This is my second “visit” to Eldoret town. Ever. The first time was in February this year when she was admitted to the same hospital for the first time. I know, it’s not the ideal way for me to visit the place. Honestly, it would have been better to visit for a different reason. But, from a different perspective, maybe it is the ideal way because this is where my mother got medical help. You know, God’s plan?

    Anyway, the story of my mother is one I will address some other time when I am comfortable enough. Today, I am telling a different story. The story of another patient in that hospital. Back in February, we found this woman admitted near my mother’s ward cubicle. Back then, she was really sick and could barely talk. I did not even know what she was ailing from, and I did not have the courage to ask her caretaker. Somehow, I felt that I would be intruding. So I just minded my business, but it was nice to know that she was getting better since I started hearing her talk.

    The thing about being in a hospital is that it is like you form a community in the wards. Everyone is genuinely worried about the other patient. As unfortunate as the terms leading to the formation of this unique community are, it is such a beautiful society. In fact, it is possibly the closest thing to a genuinely united society that I have ever experienced — a community where everyone celebrates the other person’s recovery, even cheers them on when they do not even know their name.

    Now back to this lady. Unfortunately, when we went back to the hospital in September, she was still there. I was happy to see her talking and even walking to the bathroom, albeit with the support of a nurse. Her recovery seemed miraculous, considering the state I had left her in. However, as it turned out, she did not recover adequately to regain her original mental state. It was during this time that I learned that she had been involved in a road accident. Considering her old age and the impact of the accident, “Mami,” like all the nurses called her, and like she called everyone else, was slightly unstable mentally. It was also evident that she had emotional distress. Nevertheless, she was such a darling, and all the nurses loved her!

    As I saw the nurses attend to her, I realized that she had no “caretaker.” She was all alone. The word was that her family had abandoned her. That was when I remembered that back in February, there was a girl around my age who stayed with her in the ward. While I may not know for certain why her family left, my best guess would be the medical bill. She had stayed in the hospital for several months, and considering the state she was in at the start, the bill might have ballooned to a large sum. But, is that how it should be? Should people just abandon their relatives who stay too long and accumulate hospital bills?

    However, that is not the heart of this story. The heart of the story is about that woman, what she felt about her situation. Mami was in so much emotional distress. It was sad that she felt like she had done something wrong for her to be abandoned. She kept on repeating, “Mungu mmoja kuja, sio kupenda kwangu. Nisamehe kuja, sio kupenda kwangu.” At first, I would ask myself, what could it be that she had done to constantly ask God for forgiveness. Because believe me, she repeated that literally every second with a lot of recourse in her voice. This was before I learned that she had been abandoned, after which my entire perspective changed. She was actually asking God for forgiveness for being sick, for overstaying in the hospital. How sad can that get?

    And it was not just God that she was asking for forgiveness, even her kids. One night, I heard her saying, “Mtoto wangu nikujie, sio kupenda kwangu Mungu mmoja, ni ya Mungu.”
    That’s when it dawned on me; she wanted God to forgive her for being sick because she thought and felt that that was why her children had left her. She was asking for her family’s forgiveness as well because she felt like maybe if they forgave her, they would come to get her. Honestly, the thought of that broke my heart. Other times she would say, “nitafanya nini niokoke nikue mtu mzuri, nikue chini ya Yesu. Mungu nisamehe kwa jina ya Yesu.” To me, her story was a rude awakening. I have always heard of stories of people who had been abandoned in the hospital, but to me they were just that — stories.

    Now I got to see it and couldn’t help but wonder, how many women like her were out there in different hospitals? How many men and children? Despite Mami’s situation, she was lucky the nurses adored her and treated her right. But also, it was about who she was as a person. She was overly courteous and grateful to all the nurses. She did not forget a “Asante Mami,” when her bed was made, or after every trip they took her to the washroom. Even how she made the requests, “Mami naomba unipeleke uko,” while pointing to the washrooms. She even welcomed the nurses to her lunch, of course they did not eat with her, but the gesture is everything. She was such a darling, which is undoubtedly why all the nurses adored her.

    Still her situation made me wonder, what of the case of a patient who is neglected in a hospital with unfriendly nurses? How miserable were their lives? Mami felt like a burden, she even prayed asking God to come take her, “Mungu kuja unichukue, sio kupenda kwangu.” I guess she felt that, if her children would not come take her, then maybe God should.

    Sadly, most of the other patients who found her there simply assumed she was “mad.” but she certainly wasn’t. She might not be entirely stable psychologically, but she knew what she was saying. She was in severe emotional distress. She was suffering, yet sadly, no one could fully help her. She would only find peace if her son, “kijana yangu,” went to see her, or God took her. I know you are wondering what the lesson is here. I am also not sure what to take away from all this. It was just an empathetic story of woman who was suffering from the love of her of her children. So maybe the lesson is to love your family members enough to see them through their toughest situations. No matter how draining they might be, don’t allow them to beg and grieve for their love while still alive like “Mami” did.

    Even though she was receiving good care from her caregivers, she was still suffering because she felt her kids did not love her and should not be. She was craving a type of love that only her children and family could give. So, wherever you are, make sure you take good care of your family. Show them love always, in good and in bad — (and this includes your dearest friends!)

    ❤❤❤❤
    Nyambura Macharia

  • A Train of Good Deeds in a Bus

    “The world is full of nice people. If you can’t find one, be one.”

    NISHAN pANWAR

    This quote has been so overused that it sounds just like a mere cliche. However, this quote has more truth to it than anyone would ever imagine. Let me explain.

    On 26th August 2019, I had an experience that made me realize just how accurate that quote is. It was like everything was unraveling in a meticulously arranged order and timing to prove that quote right. I even found myself questioning whether the whole thing is staged? Could everybody else see it as I did?

    It was around 6:30 p.m when the incident happened. I boarded a Kenya Mpya Bus to Thika. In the same bus was a young pregnant woman accompanied by a man whom I assumed was the baby’s father. Unfortunately, the bus happened to be full, and we had to stand in the middle holding the rails until some passengers alighted and freed up seats. The pregnant lady and her man went to the back of the bus while I stood close to the door. As I stood there, the guy on the seat nearest to me looked at me and gave me his seat; he moved to sit with his friend on the metal bars near the driver. As I sat down, I turned around to see whether the pregnant lady at the back had gotten a seat. She had not; she was still standing. I felt even guilty to sit down, knowing how difficult it must be for her to stand.
    Since I did not know her name, I continued looking back until our eyes locked and then waved at her to come to take my seat. As she maneuvered her way through other passengers standing, she wore this beautiful smile, and you could feel her sigh of relief. Even before she sat down, I had already gotten two thank-yous from her, and it was worth it.

    Lucky enough for me, the guy who sat next to her said, “Ilikua nishukie hapo mbele, but acha nishukie hapa.” So the bus stopped, and he alighted together with various other passengers. I now had a seat, right next to the lady. Again she said, “aki asante.” “It’s okay, hakuna shida,” I replied. Still, you could see the gratitude in her eyes. She could not understand why I gave her my seat. So I told her, “I have been in your shoes before; I know it’s hard.” She just smiled.

    Later on, when the conductor came to ask for the fare, I held mine in my hands. The lady’s bus fare was to be paid by her man, so she looked back to him to make sure he had paid. I did not know what he told her, but she looked at me and said, “Usilipe fare, umelipiwa pia.” I was rather shocked. I did not give her a seat expecting anything in return. To me, it was the noble thing to do, but to her and the baby’s dad, it meant a lot. “Hangelipa, ningelipa tu,” I said. She replied,” hapana, it’s the least he could do, umenisaidia.” “Thank You,” I said. Soon enough, it was time for me to alight the bus. I alighted but still could not help but think about the whole experience.

    As I walked home, I couldn’t help but smile. I realized that it is indeed the small things in life, the small gestures, that matter. That day, I had seen a chain of good people being nice to each other, unknowingly, with small gestures that meant a lot. And still, I remember that day, a census night. So yes, “The world is full of nice people. If you can’t find one, be one.”

    PS: This is one of the very first experiences I ever documented and published for the world to see,
    (well, not really published per se. More like captioned my picture with the story on Facebook). I was so amazed by how the various incidents unfolded like they were perfectly synced together. Was it by fate, destiny, or God? I’ll leave that up to you. I just thought that it was only fair to publish it here not that I have a blog for that purpose.

    ❤❤❤❤

    Nyambura Macharia