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  • 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

  • They Say the More The Merrier; Could that Apply to a Wedding too?

     

    After sixteen long years without attending a wedding, this past December, I attended my cousin-sister’s wedding. It was such a lively and beautiful wedding! The unbelievable thing about the wedding is that it was planned at the very last minute. We even joked about how the committee had only two members 😂— the bride, and ‘‘Short Joyce’’ (we are 5 Joyce(s) Nyambu the First, Joyce Murimi, Pretty Joyce, Me, and Short Joyce; but that’s a story for another day)
    You know those stories you always hear about how fundis will frustrate you? I finally had an experience of my own.
    The day before the wedding, we went to pick our bridesmaids’ dresses. Being a jubilee wedding, we had chosen Kitenge fits to be unique. Oh, and yes, it worked! When we got to the fundis we had trusted with the dresses, we were utterly surprised.

    Make no mistake, saying that we were utterly surprised is a serious understatement. Three dresses were complete and done well (though not to our expectations) but my dress couldn’t have been further from the design I wanted. As if that was not enough, it wouldn’t even fit me! The grudgingly annoying thing is that one of the girls who worked at the shop implied that I was the one wearing it wrong! Let’s give her a name, she seemed like a Pamela. So, Pamela insisted on trying to (allegedly) help me wear it “right”.  Now have you ever been suffocated by a dress and you can’t take it out?! That was me at that moment. Thanks Pamela, but you almost choked me to death with a dress! You probably wouldn’t believe me when I say that that was not the worst-case scenario but it really wasn’t. One dress was not made and the fundis didn’t know it! They literally took ‘‘Pretty Joyce’s’’ measurements then, and started looking for her Kitenge fabric. Ooh, you’re wondering what time it was for us to cause an uproar. It was almost 5. p.m., on the eve of the wedding! 😂

    And while we were all panicking, the main fundi in the shape asked, ‘‘si bora ikue ready before harusi?’’ And yes, that was it, and fortunately yes, she did deliver. We picked the dresses at around 10 a.m., and they were ready! And now that that stress was done, it was time for the much-anticipated wedding.
    The wedding took place in St. Thomas A.C.K Huruma with a total of three couples. Now let me tell you the pros and cons of a jubilee wedding. Now I know that the obvious pro everyone knows about is on the aspect of money and you are right. Jubilee weddings are a great way of having a budget wedding. For example, at the wedding I attended, the church funded the food, which was a great save for the couples. But then again, one of the couples who had the wedding had their private reception at a different venue so they did not conduct the wedding because of the budget savings. Still, I would never have known about that had I not been told so it is really not on the list of the pros I observed.


    Now to the pros, I observed,


    You know the saying, ‘‘The more the merrier?’’ Yeah, that’s true! The wedding had three couples so more attendees from their various families. Imagine having three entrances in three different songs, dances, and bridesmaids in different outfits, how beautiful is that?
    The second pro, the occasion was indeed a celebration of love. We went to the wedding for our couple-Nyambura and Njihia-but that did not mean that we did not celebrate with the other couples. We cheered just as much when it was their turn to perform, give out their vows, dances, and speeches. And vice versa was true, at the end of the wedding, there was a surprise birthday celebration for Njihia (Nyambura the bride had secretly organized and got the cake) and you should have seen how the other couple and their people sang along!


    The third pro is quite an interesting one and might seem far-fetched but here it is. I believe the wedding gave the couples confidence. If you ask me, a wedding is more like a performance. The couple getting married is literally on a stage performing to a huge crowd. This can cause them serious stage fright, especially when they are naturally shy. In a jubilee wedding like Nyambura’s, there are several couples at the stage which could ease up on the stage fright. At the beginning of the wedding, our Nyambura was extremely shy, and so was the other bride I kept tabs on, Lucy. (I have to say, Lucy was such a happy bride. She could not wipe off the smile of her face which was just so beautiful) However, as the wedding continued, they gave each other confidence, stopped being shy, and gave us quite a show dancing.
    The last pro I observed, no one can argue with – the wedding was a great way for people to appreciate different tribes and their cultures. You know that bride I enjoyed watching, the one with the permanent smile? She and her husband were Luo. Nyambura and the third couple (the Munenes) were Kikuyu. Now back to Lucy and her people, they played really beautiful Luo songs when it was their turn to perform. And the way her people danced, you just found yourself swaying and dancing, even when you could not understand the music. I remember seeing my cousin on one of the ‘‘dancing circles’’ of Lucy’s people and she said, ‘‘Nī gūtahwo’’. Directly translated, this means ‘‘I was scooped’’ which is the best way to say she simply got swayed.


    Now to the cons,


    I only observed two cons, which unfortunately are huge deal breakers to a Jubilee Wedding.
    First, there is a lack of privacy. The main con of a jubilee wedding is that it is not private. You have to share your special day with other couples and their people. So, if you don’t view it with a ‘‘the more the merrier’’ perspective, you will find it to be a huge invasion of privacy, inconveniencing, and too crowded. This applies whether you are the couple getting married, or a guest to the wedding.

    Secondly, the wedding could feel like a competition. It is in human nature to be competitive. Thus, in a jubilee wedding, the couples will find themselves comparing themselves and their teams with the other couples and competing in terms of outfits, dances, wedding arrangement, among others. In this specific wedding, Nyambura decided that as the bridesmaids we should wear kitenge outfits so that we would be ‘‘unique’’ and stand out from the rest, in the spirit of competing. Also, at the end of the wedding, I remember us saying that we had won because the wedding switched to Njihia (the groom)’s surprise birthday celebration. Now I don’t know what we were competing, but we won 😂😂

  • 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

    • Is Eating the Placenta the Solution to Postnatal Healing?

      Is Eating the Placenta the Solution to Postnatal Healing?

        Placenta Pills

        There is this you tube couple I have been following for the past one year—Riss & Quan. They have become quite famous, am sure most of my ladies know them. I have specified on the ladies because the main reason I watch them is because of how the guy treats his woman in an almost “dreamy” way (acted or not 🤭😝)— I know y’all ladies can relate. Around two weeks ago, the couple were blessed with a son, and while I was following Rissa’s Instagram Stories, I found quite a long one describing the process of “Placenta Encapsulation.” After watching the video, with a totally disgusted and cringed face, I decided to embark on my own research on the issue.

        First, I conducted an Instagram survey where I asked my followers whether you knew that some women choose to eat their placentas. 62%—including myself—said no, while 38% said Yes. I have to be honest, 38% is quite a large percentage considering I did not know, and neither did I have a clue of such a thing. Fascinated by the results, I embarked on an even deeper research. Why eat the placenta? Does it really have enough benefits to over look the baffling and disgusting idea that it is literally cannibalism?—too harsh of a word? I’m just calling a spade for what it is. Anyway, I believe in cultural relativism so let us keep an open mind people.

        Most non-human mammals eat their placentas after childbirth, but most of us humans do not. However, there are some cultures which have consumed the placenta in the past as a form of traditional medicine. Among the Chinese people, the placenta was consumed by elderly people as a form of non-conventional medicine to treat liver and kidney complications. Among Indians, the placenta was eaten by childless women for they believed it helped with fertility (Out of mere curiosity, I would love to know if that worked). However, over the past decade, the consumption of placentas by the mother after giving birth has been extremely popularised. More and more mothers are choosing to consume their placentas for quite a number of reasons. Those who have the strength and guts simply consume it by blending it into an “after-birth smoothie”. However, for the many new moms and doulas who prefer to consume the placenta in a more, “civilized” way, there is, “Placenta encapsulation.”

        What is Placenta encapsulation you ask? It is a “bourgee” process where the placenta is cooked and turned into a powder form and put into capsule pills for easier ingestion. The placenta pills are “bourgee” because the mother gets to choose the flavours such as strawberry, vanilla, or pineapple. The entire process is also not cheap as it can cost up to $500 in the U.S. Many mothers who consume their placental capsules claim they feel much better after consuming the tablets but could it just be a placebo effect? Because there are other women who claim to feel sick after taking the pills, while others feel nothing.

        The supposed benefits I got from the internet are:

        • Improved mood and energy levels to the mother-reducing chances of Postpartum Depression
        • Increased milk production for healthy baby
        • Pain Relief
        • Prevents anaemia
        • Enhanced bonding between the mother and the baby
        • And reduction of postpartum bleeding
        • Boosting both the mother and baby’s immune system

        Apart from the many alleged benefits, eating the placenta posses various risks both to the mother and the baby.

        • It maybe contaminated with harmful bacteria that may affect both the mother and the child.
        • There is not scientific evidence to support the safety and benefits of its consumption.
        • It may not be handled with “food-safe” practices either when being eaten as a smoothie or during placental encapsulation which might pose risks after consumption.

        Despite there being no scientific evidence to prove the benefits of eating the placenta, the trend of placenta encapsulation is here and many women in the western countries are really embracing the idea. In the spirit of keeping an open-mind I cannot help but wonder, is placenta the “magic” non-conventional treatment that is going to help women make postnatal healing bearable?

        Because if all these benefits are really true, I think the African contemporary woman should take a leap of faith here and embrace the trend because, in “childbirth is rosy but roses have thorns too,” we all agreed on just how excruciating the recovery process is.

        So, could eating the placenta the solution? Ladies are we boarding?🤔 should we hop on the “after birth smoothie,” or the “placental capsules,” train?

        ❤❤❤❤

        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

      • 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.