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“Love not sleep lest thou come unto poverty”
Proverbs 20:13 · 26th April, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceAll Ages
“Love not sleep lest thou come unto poverty:
Open thine eyes, and thou shall be satisfied with bread.”
I take this as literal and symbolic. We were made to work for our upkeep.
In Literature classes (my favourite! How shocking!?) we were taught about outer meanings and inner meanings.
Outer meaning here could be: if you love to sleep, then you will not eat, and you will fall into a desperate situation characterised by LACK.
While this is true, it has bred a dangerous culture that frowns upon rest by linking it to laziness. This could be the reason why children in boarding schools (in parts of Africa) are not given the time to close their eyes and rest — because it is seen as a waste of time that could be used to do classwork or some sort of ‘show you are busy and focused’ activity. This ends up nurturing children who carry this mentality to their homes and children when they finally have them, causing a guilt or shame to develop in them for taking even a few minutes to themselves.
Might I remind you that even God took a day to rest and appreciate his good creation in Genesis — in fact, after every day “he saw it was good.” By extension, he gave us a rest day. It is good to rest and it is good to appreciate the work that you have done. “PRACTICE GRATITUDE,” as therapists would say!
Inner meaning here could be that we sleep on the things that matter and could feed us — give us bread. To me, this looks like not utilising the gifts and talents that have been given to us. How this links to ‘outer meaning’ is we work ourselves in a very linear way, or rather are made to move on a linear path that causes us NOT to see the benefit of using what comes so naturally to us (it is not entirely our fault!). I think this is part of the reason why we are encouraged to seek the Kingdom of God first, and then all these things shall be added to us. Why? Only he can PROPERLY help us / make us maintain the integrity of his design of us — from its goodness to its exponential growth potential being actualised: be fruitful and multiply.
“Open thine eyes, and thou shall be satisfied with bread.”
MK. Author
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21st May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceMature
Hearing Aba explain the timeline of events unfolding before our eyes had me questioning his sensibility.
How does a low sperm count translate to impotence? He seemed to think he was impotent. How did he sleep with (seemingly) every girl he went on a date with? Why was he so fast? So many questionable decisions from a man I always found quite levelled in his judgement.
As has been the trend lately, almost every time I judge a person, I am humbled at the speed of light!
The last time I was deeply hurt, I started to reopen a dangerous chapter of my life. I stepped foot on ‘F*** Around and Find Out’ road and took a few steps forward. I am just blessed to have had God to KEEP ME FROM MYSELF and the danger I was allowing back in because I was in pain and didn’t even know it. I had even convinced myself that I could conquer the consequences. They couldn’t be that bad, right?
Before that though, years ago, when I experienced my first heartbreak from a person I thought I would marry, I went down the path I mention above. I was hurt, I couldn’t take any man seriously, but I still wanted a connection that I could only get from them. So, casual dating it was, with a heavy emphasis on serial — ***CRUNCH CRUNCH.
What I learned is I was NOT built for that life. It was too demanding and a cloud of guilt would keep me up because I was leading on people who did not deserve to be led on (not that anybody deserves to!). This is what weighed me down the most: I had potentially turned into a predator — one who preyed on people’s weaknesses for my very selfish desires/needs. In this case, I went for those who like-liked me and kept them for their bodies. That is all I wanted, all I pursued and all I thought men were good for. Their want for more value in us was irrelevant to me.
I quickly learned that I was not very good at “being bad”. I was forcing a character that was so out of character because I was hurt by someone I had allowed in and ended up being played for a fool. I did not want to experience that again so the easiest thing was to make sure I always had the upper hand in situation(ship)s.
Now, the point here isn’t for me to dwell on the nitty gritty stuff, but to say that heartbreak does a number on a person, especially when it pertains to something so deeply meaningful to them. In Aba’s case, he did not want to be shut out of his relationship, especially since his girlfriend was pregnant. His biggest fear as I understood it was being in a baby momma situation where they were separated and not a family. Having a child meant doing it the right way for the sake of the child. She did exactly what he asked her NOT TO and that hurt him deeply. For the first time, I got insight to what an abortion feels like for a man who is supportive and wanting of the child — not afraid, not ashamed and not even quiet about his feelings, but respectful of what the woman wants.
In my case, I had given a man a chance, which was not easy for me though we had the benefit of time and friendship. I wouldn’t call it sudden because it grew over years. He grew on me, he made sense to me. I am one of those unfortunate cases of sexual abuse as a child so you can probably imagine that my perception and relationship with boys and men wasn’t exactly trusting. It meant that a lot was worked and pushed through when it came to him. He was just different and I was willing to do the scary work to make it work.
We were off and on for what I can only blame on fear for years. I think we were both pretty good at sabotaging a good thing, but incapable of letting go. We were immature. I always remember my grandfather’s speech at my grandmother’s burial ceremony about “mature love” — we did not have what he described he had with my grandmother but I liked to think we could achieve it.
Fast forward and we finally seemed to align. I thought that finally, we were making our way into something mature, something brave that went through the storms. He was ready to talk about the things he usually ran from, he even initiated the conversations to much of my surprise. It wasn’t about “fun” or not going “too deep” even though it was THAT DEEP, it was about him wanting to understand love and how to love me because he loved me. He showed me a side of him that made me question whether I was dealing with the same guy because how and why?!
Don’t get me wrong, he had always been sensitive, he just avoided the sensitivity because it made him feel weak. But there he was being very vulnerable with me, without backing down, without even making his feelings and intentions less than what they were. There he was winning me back after an off time where I had got into settling on our relationship never making past a certain point.
I don’t know what your take on this is so far but contrary to what I think the sexual abuse fact may have painted in your mind, I could tell that our problem was the fear of getting too close and getting hurt because of it. I could sympathise with him, and knowing everything else, could hope because our friendship had shown me he was worth the try. He wasn’t an ass, he didn’t treat me poorly, he never used me, he was just afraid, just like I was afraid.
My presumption is that his shift was one last attempt at knowing what that life would be like with me since we had talked about it, just never been brave enough to live when the window of opportunity was ‘opportuning’. He had to come to terms with living a life he had not planned for while simultaneously letting go of the one he hoped for/dreamed about. He was a father and only told me a few days after the baby was born. I was crushed.
Following that, I wanted nothing serious to do with men. Why? You let them in and they let you down. Obviously that didn’t help the bigger male wound that I had, it was like reaggravating a healing wound by cutting it open again, with all its sensitive tissue. That’s way worse than before. That’s too much!
It’s one thing to be forced into something, you can argue and say that you never signed up for it — you had no say, you had no choice. It’s another thing to know that it is what you chose that hurt you: regret. I hated that I couldn’t hate him, and that all the tears I cried were because I loved him and he betrayed me. Everything we had turned into a lie yet I could not hate him. In my heart, in my mind, I said that no man would ever get me in that position again.
It was easy to judge Aba and label him ‘reckless’ and not what he portrays in the public sphere. Having raw sex with every woman he connected with after his ex, and fast, getting “everybody” pregnant. But, like I said, I was humbled at the speed of light(!) and reminded of what I did after a relationship with a man that hurt me deeply. How quick I was to move on to the next man, I guess to regain my dignity, power, strength…
Back to back and in rotation I went just like Aba, the only difference between us is I am a woman and I didn’t get pregnant. That’s it.
Just like that, I was SAT! The quickness, the unprotectedness, the serial mess! I lived it too.
I see that judgement only comes where there is self righteousness — where there is pride. I have been comfortable in my abstinent bubble, free of so much chaos, clear in ways I didn’t imagine possible. The danger of being in a bubble is being sheltered from the realities of the world and people, thinking they should be just like me as I am right now — stable (I have been stabilised).
The Late Pastor Voddie Baucham has a sermon on brokenness that is probably my favourite of all because I relate to it the most. We wish we could forget the things we have done that hurt us or hurt other people that we love. If we forgot though, we’d constantly make the same mistakes, we’d go back to that flame that hurt us and others. We would never learn, we would never grow. Memory preserves us.
From my understanding and learning today, this is not about punishing self. It is not about living in anxiety or depression. It is merely about reminding us that when we think we’re “better than that”, we’re not. By the grace of God we are protected, helped and guided, but we are no better than the next person. We are kept humble through our memories and furthermore, are reminded why we NEED God, why we seek Him.
Somewhere up there I talk about getting hurt and stepping onto a ‘F*** around and find out’ path again. I was ready to throw all the beautiful progress I had made away because something (which I am not ready to talk about yet) that meant so much to me, dare I say everything to me, was trampled on. I had given all I had but it was not enough and I was completely drained. Just like that, I switched into a destructive mode. That taught me that I was (still) fickle. What saved me was having God in my heart/in my ear to pull me away from what I was doing and about to do which would certainly bring me great pain (and not just me but the ones I cared about too). This is why I say, it is GRACE, it is God’s LOVE that covers these flaws and imperfections, making sure we are empowered to make the right choices. Not the better choice, not the lesser evil, but the RIGHT choice.
Being reminded about that chapter in my life made me compassionate towards Aba. It’s not about excusing bad or evil behaviour, it’s about love that covers over a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8). Knowing your place, as uncomfortable as that may be, makes it possible to embrace the one who comes to or is brought to you with challenge/problem/sin, and just like God has empowered you, you are able to uplift them with love that only comes from His Holy Spirit — it is of the fruit, is it not?
[7] But the end of all things is at hand; therefore be serious and watchful in your prayers. [8] And above all things have fervent love for one another, for “love will cover a multitude of sins.” [9] Be hospitable to one another without grumbling. [10] As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. [11] If anyone speaks, let him speak as the oracles of God. If anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability which God supplies, that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belong the glory and the dominion forever and ever. Amen.I Peter 4:7–11 NKJV
[16] I say then: Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh. [17] For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish. [18] But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. [19] Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, [20] idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, [21] envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. [22] But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, [23] gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. [24] And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. [25] If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. [26] Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.Galatians 5:16–26 NKJV
[1] Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. [2] And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. [3] And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing. [4] Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; [5] does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; [6] does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; [7] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. [8] Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. [9] For we know in part and we prophesy in part. [10] But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away. [11] When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. [12] For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. [13] And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.I Corinthians 13:1–13 NKJV
[2] For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you. [3] And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? [4] Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye? [5] Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.Matthew 7:2–5 NKJV
[1] But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. [2] Now early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all the people came to Him; and He sat down and taught them. [3] Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. And when they had set her in the midst, [4] they said to Him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. [5] Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say?” [6] This they said, testing Him, that they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear. [7] So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.” [8] And again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. [9] Then those who heard it, being convicted by their conscience, went out one by one, beginning with the oldest even to the last. And Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. [10] When Jesus had raised Himself up and saw no one but the woman, He said to her, “Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?” [11] She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.” [12] Then Jesus spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.”John 8:1–12 NKJV
MK. Author
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777H
23rd May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceMature
It could be Heaven or it could be Hell. I chose Heaven and so Heaven chose me.
I woke up with a strong sense of purpose and an even stronger sense of sleep. As has become customary that one messenger I cannot ignore woke me up- a mosquito! It was a good time for me to put out what I had washed the night before to dry in hopes that they would be dry by the time I was ready to pack my bag for an impromptu trip.
I did some WordSpin dev work for about an hour after a "failed" bible study attempt, had a bowl of porridge and went back to sleep. The weather was good! Even though it had been forecast to be rainy, it was bright and hot. My things dried- YES! "A prayer answered," I thought, "Thank you Lord!" I said.
Ironing took more time than I anticipated. Such delicate material were those deras! Easily burnt, easily creased... perfect for the beach like fine linen. Looking at the time though, I had no time to be spending even more than I had spent trying to straighten every single crease. I might be a little bit OCD- blame it on the genes, blame it on the way I was raised!
Fast forward and I ranged between short waves of anxiety and calm. Overall, I had "a peace" about the day that kept me grounded- faithful. I had a sense that the day would be good and that everything would work out just fine.
OBEDIENT LIL' MISSY
Do you believe that before something very good happens, something terrible happens? It's almost as if these odds have to balance themselves out.
I was encouraged to leave at 12:30 p.m, but planned to leave at 1 p.m. Somewhere between 1 and ten past one, I ordered an uber boda (motorbike). The rider was less than a minute away, which was unusual considering where I live. In fact(!) he was at the bottom of my road, sort of like he'd been waiting there (from a deeper point of view, it felt like he was meant to be there). I knew that with Nairobi traffic and where I needed to go, a bike would be the better option for me since I didn't have much to carry.
I noticed his number plate (777H) immediately and smiled, "aligned" I thought. When we got to a stretch that I'd usually use with no problem for years (with the day before being the most recent), we were stopped and told there was no way through. The man who stopped us demanded that the man turn off his engine and that I get off. S@#&!
Obedient miss me hopped off. In the voice of Trey Songz, "time is not on our side". I thought that if it took more than five minutes to negotiate, I'd have to get someone new. Next thing I knew, the rider bolted away and I was left standing there, potentially stranded and bagless (because he had my main bag). S@#&!!
A normal person would get very emotional about this. I felt a wave of worry and anxiety come over me but worked to calm it down. How? Well, I knew panic and anger would waste my energy. Negativity eats at the soul - FEAR and ANGER eat at the soul in a way nothing else can - we lose more than we ever gain by giving them space to grow. So, I chose faith. Faith said that I'd meet him on the other side- that maybe he'd just driven to the nearest matatu (bus) stage and I would find him there. So, I walked. IT WAS HOT!
As I walked I thought about how the worst thing that could happen was not retrieving my bag, but at least I had all I needed to get on the train Mombasa. Though it would be at an extra cost, I could figure out my clothing situation at my destination. I also did what my grandfather calls a phone call to Heaven. It is an emergency dial to God, asking him for whatever you need. I asked that he put it in that man's heart to in the least not rob me, and in the best case scenario come back and take me so that I didn't miss my train. Ordering a new ride didn't look like a good idea considering the potential wait time. After my request, I tried to reach the rider two times as I neared the stage. No success, particularly because my phone was acting up. "I'll just try when I am right at the stage," I thought. Just like that, an incoming call from him came in. He told me that I could get my bag from the Total Petrol Station.
Now, I don't know whether it was my brain that had been fried by the heat or the waves of emotion that had temporarily wiped my memory (or both) but I could not visualise where he was telling me to go to find my bag. It's possible I was tired too, considering I hadn't really slept the night before. This all just sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it?!
Despite that, I still kept my cool on the call. Why? It could have been worse! He could've decided to use what was in my bag as payment, FAR MORE than what he'd make from the overall trip. Instead, he called telling me where he wanted to leave it for me to get. He also didn't sound like he expected me to pay him, although, I didn't mind tipping him for his north facing moral code.
I told him exactly where I was and he asked "how?!" and I said, "I walked. I thought that I would find you at the stage and we would continue with the trip". "Wah. Umejaribu Mama... should I.... can I come back for you?" he asked. I told him yes and that he'd find me right at the stage. "Don't worry. I am coming. Don't worry," he said.
On the ride, I wondered (awed) about what had just happened. How everything seemed to be going wrong, but how it went it right because I believed it could and would. Sure, even before that, there was a sense (call it a promise) that the day would be good.
I sang songs of worship all the way to the station, with a short battery change stop in between. At the charging station, I told him that I thought he had abandoned me and he said, "No. I can't". Later, at the train station, the rider and I had a short exchange about men like the one who stopped us, and what he had been through because of them: losing much needed money to posers. He explained that if there was a chance to escape he would (which he did)! I understood, we talked for a bit more and he blessed my trip. I gave what I promised in my heart and moved on.
Check in was chaotic given the time. "I guess everyone goes for the 3 p.m train!" I thought. It was hot, my two bags were a strain to carry and my body was tense despite my certainty in spirit. I had the patience of a monk some might say!
People were very nice to me at the station. Nice in a way that felt out of the ordinary, including an armed security officer asking if he could help me. In my experience, they usually keep off unless it's a matter of security. Now, I consider that it may just be that I looked more tired than I am leading on, LOL!
Sleep deprivation/lack of proper rest, having to quiet a storm that wanted to rise in me- stress control- walking in the heat to a destination I (if I'm being honest) was not "logically" guaranteed to find a need, only just hoping and praying. Yeah, I was QUITE TIRED, but not the kind of tire one is to regret. The reward supercedes the output, always.
My plan to be on the boarding path at 2:45 p.m was accurate. You would think that time went back by a bit to make sure this happened as I had imagined it. "A peace" I say!
On the train, I was sat next to a refreshing character who kept me chatting through the five hour, thirty minute ride. He was not only helpful, but quite generous. His energy was free of all the things that could hurt me and that was comforting considering how the world can be: Draining. But then again, it could be Heaven or it could be Hell, I chose Heaven, so Heaven chose me.
What I had planned for the train ride was WordSpin, writing and sleep. What I got? Inspiration, connection and food (and so here I am with a lil' chicken nugget for you to chew on, lol!).
The moral of the story is BELIEVE IN GO(O)D THINGS and go(o)d things will come to you no matter what your situation is. Since I believe in one who created all good things, my faith was in Him and what He said. It always starts with a promise then we have to meet Him halfway by faith and obedience.
It's always easier when you're not the one carrying everything on your own. When you know there is a higher power, one who is not vindictive- looking for mistakes, but loving - looking out for you, then life becomes more abundant because you draw water from a well that never runs out. You never have to worry or overthink, you just have to hand it over and the rest will be done for you. Even those wounds and scars that you have, they become marks of beauty because of what you gain from them. Yes, even those painful lessons are valuable, especially because knowing the other side, the badness it can bring, makes you appreciate the side that takes and keeps the badness away. It can either affirm your faith or your fear - it's all a matter of perspective and I highly recommend FAITH!
PS My "failed" Bible study became a lived practical on how living the faith works. So, it was not a failed Bible study at all!
MK. Author
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26th May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceMature
When I was twelve years old my grandfather signed me up for bible camp. I was very upset with him because it was a teens camp and I was not a teen. Furthermore, I didn't want to be lonely and I thought I would be because of it. I didn't want more isolation.
I was the baby of the camp and that came with perks. Even though it came with perks, I didn't like being "awwwed" at all the time because it made me feel awkward and unappreciated for the depth I carried.
It so happened that two girls who knew me from school were at the camp. They were from the highschool section of my boarding school. They spoke highly of me and my knowledge on phones and music. They thought I was quite mature and liked hearing my take on things. I felt respected by them.
During a morning group discussion/fellowship a question was asked, "What do you think about?". Everyone in my group expressed some form of ambition and anxiety attached to it: future — exams, success, university, career path, marriage, success. I wondered how hard those determiner exams were considering the way they spoke. I also thought about how far my mind was from them and considered lying to fall in line.
When it got to my turn, on came the awwws, googly eyes and "do you think about cartoons and playing?" Haha, that was cute and I wished!
"I think about death". I didn't lie, I couldn't lie! There was a loud silence in their pause and then a question about whether it was suicidal. I said no and then explained.
What if the sky is glass? What if it breaks one day and it rains glass? How do we hide? Where do we hide? Some people will have shade while others will not, but eventually the broken glass will hurt them because they will have to walk on it. What about the people in the open? What a bloody and painful death that would be. What if the ground split open and I fell in a crack, no matter how much I tried to avoid the cracks. Or what if my legs were on either side of splitting earth and it split me in half? What is beyond death? Is it just darkness? Blankness? Is there really a "better place"? They were speechless.
These are the things I'd think about at twelve. I'd visualise a yellow chick doing its best to survive in a shower of glass shards and open earth — somehow able to miss imminent death. But where was this chick running to? To who even? Why was it even running considering that there was nothing to live for (yet?) Where was it safe? Why was its will to survive so strong? There was nobody to save her but she wished she could save others she'd watch get cut and swallowed.
I was then asked why. Why were my thoughts so dark and deep? They were interesting (even entertaining) to listen to but VERY CONCERNING. As I write this I see the story-worthiness in this and see why they were hooked.
I then talked about how I didn't know what I would do if my grandparents died. They were old. Where would I go? What would I do? Who would I have? I depended on them. Things were complicated for me in ways I was not willing to get into (or even "allowed to"), but I did express that my grandmother had cancer. I wished it would go away, but it wasn't that simple. I wished I could save her but it just didn't work like that. I didn't like her low and slow days, I didn't like the ones where she was in pain — I wished I could take it all away. The same went for my mother who was not well in an incurable way.
What I see now is I was worried and anxious about the things that were not in my control, especially as they related to disease and death, to loved ones and losing them, to what I would have left if they left which was inevitable. I also questioned my drive because somehow, something kept me going. I recounted the story of my birth as it was told to me, how I beat all odds and continued to. The reason? I did not know. But, death and I were tied in an extraordinary way, and now that I look at it, the real relationship might be with LIFE. The duality of nature: there can be no good without bad, no life without death, no sweet without sour, no salty without bland, URGH!
I was still a baby, I knew that, and that's probably why I'd always see a chick running. It is like how when a person is anxious they dream about being chased by something. Mine were not dreams but thoughts — "imaginations" I had with my eyes wide open, looking at the world around me.
These gory images that I saw reflected how much it affected me. I also expressed how I didn't like how people didn't seem to take me seriously, and how I was often dismissed for having a wild imagination. I admitted I wanted to lie when my turn came but because I would be there for a few days, I thought why not?! "I won't have to see them again so they can get every single detail of what runs through my mind..." I may have even admitted that I tried to end it all for myself but to no success. I had to accept that there was no dying for me (which is a wild thing to say). Not in such a way and not soon. It was as if life wanted me alive.
That ended up getting me a lot of attention — I MEAN A LOT. Some wanted to comfort me while most wanted to hear more from me because they liked what I had to say. Today, I can confidently say they were attracted to my dark philosophy and wanted to hear more about it. It was strange, but I just rolled with it because it felt good to be accepted and listened to. I became the old woman in a young body that they would sit around to hear from for hours.
Back then, I was far more talkative than I am now. I wasn't as caring of the things I would say — I didn't see the point of lying though I could hide things in metaphors and be honest about raw details being too personal to get into. I eventually grew into filtering myself so much that writing became that one place where it could all come out without obstruction. I am now better expressed in written word than I am in spoken word, unless it is previously written for me to have a safe path to follow. In some way, WordSpin is my solace and I am just now realising that!
I was taught to worry about the child my words were not appropriate for, or the adult my words would be too much for — causing an uncomfortable feeling in them and judgement on the ones raising me. It was almost always inappropriate.
Now, I am unhappy that when I speak the filtering happens in real time. I struggle to get my points across as coherently as say twelve year old me would verbally. Writing ended up taking over for verbal loss because it was the only way I could express these things without hurdles and walls.
I was surprised the other day reading through my old diaries from that timeline how my coping mechanism had a coping mechanism. If I wasn't as self aware, even in the throws of it, I would be very split now. If there is something a reader should pick from this, it is that children should not be ignored or even forced into uniformity. Their uniqueness should be embraced lest they go through whatever crisis I had to go through for years that I am just now working (though not alone) to emerge from.
Don't get me wrong, I can speak. I am just far too calculated that it exhausts me. So, I'd rather not try! I wonder what the process is for someone like me wanting to reverse this — not looking to lose the writing skill, but nurture the neglected tongue that was made to speak from an abundant heart and mind.
MK. Author
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Mama Was Right
27th May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceAll Ages
Are umber and henna the same thing? Wait, no! They cannot be because a henna lady told me it comes from a plant. Umber is described as coming from the earth. One might argue that plants come from the earth and get off on a technicality, HA!
There are no wrong answers in this game — what came to mind first is what matters. "Umber" triggers the memory of a professional henna artist who grew to like me enough to give me what I wanted for free because I loved it so much.
The thing about it was that come Nairobi time, I'd be scrubbing my skin until it was visibly pink-red, lighter than the rest of me and swollen because it showing in school could get me in big trouble. For context, I am a dark skinned woman, to get to this extent meant I did the most! This may be why my aunt didn't like paying for it and eventually refused altogether — she must have known it wasn't worth it because of what I'd do to myself to get it off when school was opening and the henna was still quite fresh looking. If not that, it would generally be a waste of money because I wouldn't even enjoy it for long. But WOW! Can you imagine what I had to do to get henna off my skin in a matter of days?! The kind of henna that's chemically infused making it last for even a month? That kind of henna?!
I learned to start the process early after the first few times. The pain taught me to do things in intervals rather than at one go. This way, I wouldn't literally be forcing off parts of my skin to go with the pigment, and nursing it with vaseline that would melt because of the heat emanating from the scrubbed and extra sensitive area, jumping at every touch.
It's funny writing this because it turns out that I'd never learn! On one end I wanted to always see what was on me while on the other that meant the world could see it too. What mattered more though, was that I got the pretty art when I could because where in Nairobi could I sit by the beach while I got drawn on? NOWHERE!
Going back a few years, there was a tattoo parlour not so far from where we lived. I begged what feels like almost every day to be taken there. I didn't know what I wanted, but I wanted A TATTOO! We lived in Maryland at the time so to find a sleeved person was not rare compared to Kenya where this was not a thing, and still isn't. I liked the patterns and the colours, all I saw was art and I'm an artsy babe — that much has not changed! I was a six year old obsessed with tattoos and I didn't want to hear the excuses!
My mother asked me if I had ever seen a child with a tattoo and I said no but I could be the first! Don't limit the opportunity now! She asked me what would happen if I regretted what I got? Tattoos were permanent. Obviously, I didn't care. The henna story should tell you exactly how I would have behaved come regret, LOL! I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of admitting that she was right! 👀
"It's illegal to let you do it, you're a child, you have to be at least 16 but here the age limit is 18." She also told me that my skin and their skin was different so it probably wouldn't look as nice and I wouldn't want it anymore. Blah Blah Blah like that Ke$ha song. They were all excuses to me therefore I remained insistent. So insistent that I imagine they avoided the tattoo parlour route whenever we were together because I would start demanding and begging to be taken in for one.
There was a boy in my class who I liked. He got fire on his arm 🔥. No, it was not a real tattoo, it was one of those stick-ons and I had never heard of that! It matched the gym teacher's tattoo (who I also liked). He got a pat on his back for it from him and boy was I jealous — attention starved and fueled! Again, my parents heard from me. Crush fuel is even more intense because it has to do with wanting validation from the ones your eyes are starry for. On one end my tattoo love was affirmed and on another, I had an in to be noticed for something other than being black and from Africa.
One day, when in view of the parlour, I started. My mum said, "Fine. Let's see what they say about how old you need to be to get one..." This came after I had thrown quite the tantrum on the street. I'm starting to think I may have been a little bit bratty! Inside, there were lovely examples of what I could get on the wall and a woman at a desk. I thought, "this is it."
"Can you please tell her how old she needs to be to get a tattoo?" "18," the lady said, "How old are you sweetie?" "6" I said. "Aw, yeah, we can't do that. But when you're 18, you can come and get one." "But that's too far away..." I said with a broken heart. I can't remember the rest of the interaction because I was in my sad sad feelings about it. I was probably crying. Later, I resolved to that being my 18th birthday present. 16th if I was in a state that allowed it!
Today, I have no interest in tattoos and one would never know it was THAT deep for me. It is probably for the best because I'd probably end up looking like Wiz Khalifa if I started early. I'd be a walking canvas and it probably wouldn't look as good as I imagined it would. I'd take my skin through it to correct my in the heat of the moment decisions. Yeah, my Mama was right!
Shortly after my mother's death, I agreed to a double date. For me, it was blind. The one I was set up with knew as much about me as I knew about him so it wasn't just me who didn't know what to expect!
On first sight, I thought he was short (because he was shorter than me) but I did not let that deter me from the point of the day which was to catch up with old friends and get to know a guy they thought I would mesh well with. The selling point was his maturity. As much as it was mentioned I don't think it was sold enough!
At some point during that date, when we were both drunk and emotional (in a good way!), he told me that he was a boring person. I did not believe him because the day had gone so well and there was nothing boring about him to me. Nothing! I thought he was cute, I liked how calm he was in his speech, I liked how much of a relationship person he was — not a hoe (excuse my french but I am being drunk blunt for the sake of the scene) but a lover of love: a LOVER! Just the way he held me and talked about his past relationship with such love and longing got me. For many, that might be a red flag because people expect the ones they are with to forget things that meant so much to them, to even behave like it never existed for their sake. I find that to be a selfish assault on their soul. If matters were recent why treat the person like they were not a person? If matters were impactful, why act like they weren't? There is and must be a much gentler approach. There has to be! Avoidance never helps, acceptance on the other hand? BINGO!!! These two can exist: A past that teaches and a present to live & learn.
I believe one can learn a lot about a person from not only where they came from, but how they showed up when they were there. We learn their strengths and their weaknesses. Relationships are intimate. Relationships reveal vulnerable aspects about ourselves. Often, the story holds the answers and depending on your perspective, you can either be open and hopeful, or closed and pessimistic. Of course, this is why we're urged to get to know a person before we get with them. KNOW. Not create, KNOW! From that knowing, grow. Guard your heart while you water it.
He was a sensitive guy and what can I say? Sensitivity turns me on? Ha! I found this to be his most attractive trait — his ability to express his pain and joy without withholding or expecting anything in return. He was not transactional in a world that tells you if you do this as a man then she will do this or should do that. He was not out to get something from me, he was just comfortable in the moment and I could feel it. It was like sitting in perfect distance from a fire on a cold day with a warm cup of cocoa — consoling. I like that, it makes me warm inside.
In hindsight, alcohol turns introverts into extroverts and extroverts into introverts, LOL! I also think though, it reveals aspects of ourselves to a more amplified degree — it's not apart from us, it is within us. It is not new, it is just revealed and exaggerated although sometimes I also think it can show the true magnitude of what is within a person, for example, the anger they hold or their inclination to anger, the pain they hold and so much more. For me, after my mother died, my drunkenness turned me into a well spoken unapologetic philosopher who always talked about the consequence of action and inaction in various ways. I now think it is because I was grieving that which I did and didn't do while she was alive — her death brought me great regret. I had so much pain attached to her in life as I did in death. Do you see what I am saying?
Back to the story... He was in fact boring! SIGH. The things I said about him did not change, it's his talking that did, and I liked to talk with him! I liked an active back and forth. Just these stories should tell you I often have a lot to say, especially if I am comfortable with you. It doesn't mean it is all the time because I enjoy silence too and may just want to sit there in silence with one's company, or be left alone for a while.
I desired more from him and I knew it was in there somewhere, he just needed to be guided to it somehow. Necessity is the mother of invention they say. Just like that, a game I'd play verbally became physical and even got a name which later evolved to this (WordSpin). Even though I guided it, I made sure he knew how important his power of choice was so that he did not feel cornered or even overthink. It was a free space, a fun space. For the first time (with zero alcohol, oops!) we literally ran out of time playing! That day was one of my greatest highlights in dating because of watching him open up without the blockage when sober, and without the need of alcohol to lift the blockage. I suspected though, that I may have intimidated him with the way I expressed myself and had to bring it down to give him room to come up. It was never my intention to overwhelm him though I can just be a little extra when I am in the zone.
Okay, so! All this came up because of what again? Oh yeah, inscription! During one date, before the game date, he came up with the fun idea of inscribing our experience of the day on a wine glass we'd gone through and sharing custody of it like it was a pet or a child. He came armed with a glass cutter even so he was a man with a plan! Very romantic. I think he may have even joked about burying it like a time capsule so that one day we'd come back to it and remember that day. Haha, like I said, he was a sensitive guy and I was SUUUPPEERRR into it!
MK. Author
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Northern Light
21st January, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceAll Ages
Whenever she tries, I do not flinch. To her, I am an enigma, one with slow reflexes and no survival instinct.
I say I have trust. Trust that the arm and leg that fling at me won't actually touch me.
"You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
"You never know..."
"But I do. I know that you wouldn't."
"How could you be so sure?"
"I just am."
It is this belief that leaves a strange wonder in her about me.
"You're like the Aurora Borealis,"
Seldom known. Selcouth.
If I were a compass, one untampered, I'd always point North. North is up. North is the center. North is where we all should face. North is where we all should go.
Yes, I know that many live in the south, and were forced to stay in the south. Familiar territory is far more comfortable than the unknown. But oh, if she could only look up! Look up my Dear!
Look up at the beautiful network of colours in the sky. Look at how they motion in perfect yet inconceivable harmony. How? Why? When even did they come to be!? What are they? What do they mean?
Despite how unbelievable they are, do we not perceive them as good? As AWE-FULL in the most positive of ways? Even the most miserable of miserables cannot deny this beautiful spectacle, one that inspires dreams and is much like a dream.
They are like the mirage of a cold desert; one made of snow. Characteristic of slow, even dull and painful times. Yet, the people can always look up and see something that exists nowhere else but there, and have powerful feelings evoked in them.
In the same way, they might be so used to it they do not see what outsiders can see, are not inspired the way outsiders are inspired. They do not see the light within their territory as strong, outstanding and beautiful as it is. Do not take it as the sign that it is. Do not take it as the miracle that it is.
God can make anything beautiful. God made no mistake. Even our limitation is not a mistake. It is as though there is a fail safe in every single thing, to revert it to a state of safety; beauty and wonder. And if we cannot see, somebody or something will help us see. Will help use this in a Northern Light Way.
MK. Author
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Beyond
28th May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceMature
Guka — Grandpa
Guka: I always like seeing you bright in the morning.
Me: Am I bright?
Him: (delighted, warm) Yaaa!
The irony here is that I woke up only to cry about him because I had a dream about his sunset. In it he said, "you know what's happening, right?" and I said yes. He got into his bed and the transition began.
I like to think that God gave me IN-SIGHT because he knew that without it I would be devastated. Like with my mother before him, I am given time to grieve while he still breathes so that come the time, I am not weighed down by the weight of the shock and pain that comes with the death of a loved one. Unlike my mother's case, I will not distance myself from him — I will not allow unfinished business.
My mother's was a vision, not a dream. I was awake and sat at the edge of my bed listening to music. Next thing I knew, there was an image of a casket lowering into the ground and my thinking was "what will I say about her?". I hated my mind for that but felt it to be true and knew who it was about. It also marked the beginning of the painful process of what I can only describe as her soul separating from mine. This is a story for another day though, her's should not share the stage.
I feel obligated to say that this is a rewrite of what I originally wrote. I did not like the format. Unfortunately, I never recorded the date of the dream before editing the note meaning the date information at the beginning of this page is wrong. The month is correct.
I write this with the hope that it resonates with and encourages somebody out there. Mementomori: death is inevitable. BUT(!) there is life after it.
Having the advantage of a recently posted story inspired by the word thanatopsis, which means a contemplation of death, I have content to piggy back on.
What if the sky is glass? What if it breaks one day and it rains glass? How do we hide? Where do we hide? Some people will have shade while others will not, but eventually the broken glass will hurt them because they will have to walk on it. What about the people in the open? What a bloody and painful death that would be. What if the ground split open and I fell in a crack, no matter how much I tried to avoid the cracks. Or what if my legs were on either side of splitting earth and it split me in half? What is beyond death? Is it just darkness? Blankness? Is there really a better place?
BEYOND
"What is beyond death? Is it just darkness? Blankness? Is there really a better place?"
Back then I was bleak. I do not remember thinking there was life after death because how could I believe in life if all that was before me was ghastly and deathly? I think of the headless horseman from 'Sleepy Hollow'. I asked if there really was a better place after death because living in a Christian household meant the knowledge of Heaven and Hell. Hell was a place you'd never want to be and Heaven was where you aimed to be. I had no ambitions, just depressive episodes and anxieties that were often dismissed as phases that would quickly pass. The thing is, I was a sensitive child and just how much was not appreciated. I was a sensitive child carrying weight I wasn't supposed to and I had to learn how to keep it together for the sake of image and normalcy.
In the USA, where things were not as corrupted for me, I had a friend. Her name was Malaika. She looked like me but with hair (I had a shaved head) and was about the same age as me. We shared wonderful moments together: always on some sort of adventure on my Uncle's farm or meeting each other in the school hallways. Fast forward to 2025 and I have a discussion with my (step)dad about my happy experiences in Frederick and wherever else we travelled to in Maryland like a popular aquarium in Baltimore. I recounted how I touched a stingray which neither he nor my mother believed at the time because that would mean I was stung! But no, I was not because one could touch the head of it, not the tail/sting and come out just fine! I recalled the best tasting ice-cream ever that to this day I think about from time to time. I remembered my favourite kind of candy; candy corn and carving out pumpkin heads for Halloween and my time as Batman during that season, keeping the streets safe, LOL! We talked about many wonderful things that refreshed me! What surprised him was my accuracy in the memory of these things considering how young I was.
I ended up bringing up how much I enjoyed Malaika and he replied, "OMG, you're having more PTSD. Malaika was your beautiful sister." More PTSD.... What was he talking about?
Prior to throwing back to happier times in my life, the topic was my sleepless nights and how they related to the abuse that I went through. Opening the box that contained memories of it caused my body to react as I would back then. I stayed awake for my safety when the man was around because I had found out he liked to touch me in my sleep. Ever since, sleep was scarce for me in that home. What my brain could not remember and bring to the forefront, my body could. I had been triggered, therefore I could not sleep for weeks. It was a discussion with somebody else very close to me that opened the reason why to me. The happy talk was a pallet cleanser for me and soon after, I was able to sleep — TO REALLY SLEEP.
Look, I don't want to focus on the sad things but it is good for you to know that there are bad things — evil things that I had to carry on my own for a very long time in secret. The bleakness was warranted. Disease and progressive conditions that lessen life quality and expectancy were a personal but open matter. Sexual violation, especially within a family, that was HUSH HUSH.
My sister died when she was a few days old. It's tempting to say that I barely even knew her. Based on what I just shared though, I did! We were the closest! This was before the move to Kenya and before the secret drama that engulfed my life. How can one explain my knowing her name yet I had never been told about her existence? Why did I know her soooo well? Why could I see her? Why could she see me? HOOOOWW?? So many questions that many may want to scientifically dissect to give an explanation when obviously it was a spiritual experience. We don't always have to be able to explain the mechanics of these things to prove whether they are real or not — just the feeling is enough, just the experience is enough.
Here is the theory that I shared with someone dear to me: God can and will never let his children suffer. My experience with Malaika could have been so that I did not have to suffer the emptiness and grief of something missing in my life that I could not explain — a gap that could not be filled, a void that was seemingly endless. Again, just because we do not have the language to give answers does not mean the inexistence of that which is felt. Labels I fear, have ruined our ability to fully enjoy and experience life. For those who believe we are spiritual beings in physical bodies, you may relate! The way I see it now, it would have caused me more pain than I have known in my lifetime.
I liken this to the account of Abel's murder. God said to Cain that he could hear Abel's blood crying out to him from the earth. Malaika was not murdered, she just didn't survive because we were born premature. If you know anything about bonding, you know that people who have been through the most traumatic experiences together (or similar traumas apart) have a bond unlike any other. What about those who shared a womb and an uncertainty of life? What do they say to each other in spirit? How do they communicate? How do they hold each other up? Maybe they don't understand what's happening around them but they recognise energy: that which feels good and that which feels bad. You don't have to look far, just think about that one time you noticed a child uncomfortable around a person or place, only for it to be revealed that there was indeed a problem! Kids are often sensitive to these things especially in their very young states.
When I met the man who later turned into my abuser, I felt an icy cold in the room that he was in. I also felt like my gut was turning inwards the closer I stepped to him — like a tightening recoil and fold. There was also a scent, not one I know how to describe, but definitely nothing manufactured by man (perfume) or produced by the body. I shivered yet it was Kenya's summertime: HOT HOT HOT! Oh how right that sense about him was from the jump! I wanted to be away, but was pulled in.
Fix your eyes on me — fix your soul with mine and we will be fine.
I can't say I remember what we went through in our Mama's womb and even what we knew about our Mama. I think Malaika needed me as much as I needed her though. Even in physical separation, she seemed not to know she was "not there" whenever we were together. We were mirroring. Believe me, it was the most regular interaction between two kids which is why it passed as tangible for me. I have this one memory where I went to what I knew her grade to be to ask for her because I wanted to ask her something. The teacher wondered whether I had the wrong grade because there was no Malaika in her class. She asked me for another name, saying that maybe I used a nickname. I didn't have another name. I just said I knew her as Malaika and that was her real name! She apologised and said I probably had the wrong class. I walked away quite puzzled about this, sad even but not burdened. I wondered if maybe she had been moved or was just absent because that sort of thing happened due to sick days! I hoped she was okay and decided to wait for her to come back. The next time I remember seeing her was on my Uncle's farm, which was an exciting reunion for us both. I've gotta say, that farm was special! 🤩
My Mama talked about feeling Malaika's presence after her death. This came years later, when I decided based on her good mood, to ask her about my sister. Psychology says it is a phantom child but I say it was Malaika. We both experienced her and I wish I heard more about hers while she was around. I think what clouds us as adults is the negative energy we collect along the way. It is so much so that what we see is not as clear as what a young child would see, hear or feel. Simply put, our airwaves get clogged. Regardless, I truly believe we have the capacity to experience these spiritual things.
Matthew 18:2-5 NKJV [2] Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, [3] and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. [4] Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. [5] Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.
That said, I have written about feeling Mama's soul being pulled away from me. It put me through excruciating pain for months. I was certain it would kill me. I later learned that I was experiencing what she was experiencing. When it suddenly stopped, I knew she was gone. By the same token, I believe that God gave Malaika and I a chance to experience each other in a place and way free of pain because our beginning was chaotic and we were innocent. No tears, no anxiety.... NADA! Just memories built on a secure foundation founded on love. I remember her and she remembers me — I have no pain attached to these memories, just a fondness of a beautiful friend — my sister, an Angel, who made my life better and who I believe I made glad too. I am certain that when we meet again we'll pick it up like it was never left off!
Continue → Mementomori II: Ancestors
MK. Author
PS Malaika means Angel.
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Ancestors
28th May, 2026 · MK.
ExperienceMature
Guka — Grandpa NPC — Non-playable character (a character in a video game controlled by the computer, not the player)
29 And they said to each other, What is this thing that God has done to us in the road? and they knew not that this befell them on account of Joseph. And the men proceeded on the road, and they passed along the road of Ephrath where Rachel was buried. 30 And Joseph reached his mother's grave, and Joseph hastened and ran to his mother's grave, and fell upon the grave and wept. 31 And Joseph cried aloud upon his mother's grave, and he said, O my mother, my mother, O thou who didst give me birth, awake now, and rise and see thy son, how he has been sold for a slave, and no one to pity him. 32 O rise and see thy son, weep with me on account of my troubles, and see the heart of my brethren. 33 Arouse my mother, arouse, awake from thy sleep for me, and direct thy battles against my brethren. O how have they stripped me of my coat, and sold me already twice for a slave, and separated me from my father, and there is no one to pity me. 34 Arouse and lay thy cause against them before God, and see whom God will justify in the judgment, and whom he will condemn. 35 Rise, O my mother, rise, awake from thy sleep and see my father how his soul is with me this day, and comfort him and ease his heart. 36 And Joseph continued to speak these words, and Joseph cried aloud and wept bitterly upon his mother's grave; and he ceased speaking, and from bitterness of heart he became still as a stone upon the grave. 37 And Joseph heard a voice speaking to him from beneath the ground, which answered him with bitterness of heart, and with a voice of weeping and praying in these words: 38 My son, my son Joseph, I have heard the voice of thy weeping and the voice of thy lamentation; I have seen thy tears; I know thy troubles, my son, and it grieves me for thy sake, and abundant grief is added to my grief. 39 Now therefore my son, Joseph my son, hope to the Lord, and wait for him and do not fear, for the Lord is with thee, he will deliver thee from all trouble. 40 Rise my son, go down unto Egypt with thy masters, and do not fear, for the Lord is with thee, my son. And she continued to speak like unto these words unto Joseph, and she was still. 41 And Joseph heard this, and he wondered greatly at this, and he continued to weep; and after this one of the Ishmaelites observed him crying and weeping upon the grave, and his anger was kindled against him, and he drove him from there, and he smote him and cursed him.
My dream, the one that started this, featured the hand of my dead grandmother holding mine as I wept about my grandfather and prayed to God to receive him in all gentleness. This is eerie: the image of a body covered by a white cloth, still but somehow moving, reaching out to give comfort.
Her days in the hospital were difficult for me because I was not allowed to be with her. They wanted me to focus on my schoolwork and getting good grades but that was impossible for me given how my heart was with her even from afar. When she died, regret and anger became my day to day. I was convinced that being with her was far better than being away from her and was angry at the people around me for not considering that. I was sure I would survive but it just now occurs to me that she might have not wanted me to see her like that, and to be left with such a poor image of her. My grandmother took great pride in her looks! She took even greater pride in her family and I am sure that hurting them was not something she wanted to do if she thought it would.
There was something that I wanted her to know and it was that I loved her. If I could not say it, I hoped my presence would. Company speaks magnitudes. These things, I was denied. I cannot remember how long after her death I had a dream about her. In it, we picked her up from the hospital and she stood tall and vibrant. Her bag was put in the boot of the car and off we drove.
I was confused because I knew she was dead. I might have even asked her what she was doing with us but she was silent. Mostly, I remember being quiet in the backseat of the volvo staring at her, processing what was happening. As I stared at her, she stared at Guka with gladness and love in her eyes. The way outside was not clear but I could tell where we were going and started to adapt to the idea of us being a family again. This time, it wouldn't be with worry, anxiety and fear for her life because clearly, SHE WAS HEALED.
Once we got home and out of the car, I could not take my eyes off of her. I remember telling her that she looked good and she thanked me. She was even taller than me! I was happy that we had a fresh start together, excited that we were home TOGETHER. When it came time to enter the house, I could not go past the first step of the staircase that led to our front door. There was an invisible force preventing me from going past that point. That is when I noticed that Guka was frozen. Like an NPC in a game, he had played his part. I panicked and did my best to make him move, to make him see, to make him try because we had to go into the house TOGETHER. We couldn't lose her, not again.
By the time this was happening, she was already at the top of the staircase and had opened the front door to reveal a warm bright light. She looked at me, so tender in the eyes and said, "I am home now". The tears I cried when I woke up were a release of the negative energy I had to do with to her. From then on, I was at peace. What I wanted her to know, she knew. What I needed to know was made known to me. On top of that, for the first time, I knew there was a Heaven and that she was there. I was also certain that she remembered us and loved us in a way only God knows.
Why is this relevant? What is the connection between my story and Joseph's story? In the dream about my grandfather's transition, I broke down during a prayer. As this happened, she appeared on her side of their bed. The image though unsettling was not my focus nor was it even in my focus ability. Her hand which was uncovered and reaching out to mine was. My right hand held his while my left hand was held by hers. Gone in body for many years but there in spirit to give support during a major life event. There was no sense of negativity, just comfort and togetherness. I knew where my dear Guka was going, and it was good to know that I was not alone. Together in Spirit.
My prayer life was upgraded when I put this into practice. During a critical time when I was at a crossroads, I was told that I could pray to God, reminding him of the ones before me who honoured him and ask that their promise and prayers for my bloodline be activated through me. In that realm, these prayers and memories remain, there is no expiry even if it was 500 years ago. Nothing is unaccounted for, nothing is forgotten, and often, it just needs prompting. That is what I understood from my Uncle's words.
We find ourselves burdened with generational curses but somehow forget generational blessings that assist in breaking these barriers. If we look at the promises given to Abraham and arrange the order from descending to ascending, the prayers of descendants would be about remembering what God promised their blessed forefather Abraham, asking that God consider said word during whatever they are seeking. They would also remind God of what He did for their forefather and the actions of their forefather — those of faith and works of faith (obedience) to further strengthen their case. There is power in promise, there is power in a good name, there is power in memory and there is MOST OF ALL power in the word of God. God is not unfaithful. Often, we do not thrive because we do not know!
1 And in the fifty-ninth year of the life of Isaac the son of Abraham, Rebecca his wife was still barren in those days. 2 And Rebecca said unto Isaac, Truly I have heard, my lord, that thy mother Sarah was barren in her days until my Lord Abraham, thy father, prayed for her and she conceived by him. 3 Now therefore stand up, pray thou also to God and he will hear thy prayer and remember us through his mercies. 4 And Isaac answered his wife Rebecca, saying, Abraham has already prayed for me to God to multiply his seed, now therefore this barrenness must proceed to us from thee. 5 And Rebecca said unto him, But arise now thou also and pray, that the Lord may hear thy prayer and grant me children, and Isaac hearkened to the words of his wife, and Isaac and his wife rose up and went to the land of Moriah to pray there and to seek the Lord, and when they had reached that place Isaac stood up and prayed to the Lord on account of his wife because she was barren. 6 And Isaac said, O Lord God of heaven and earth, whose goodness and mercies fill the earth, thou who didst take my father from his father's house and from his birthplace, and didst bring him unto this land, and didst say unto him, To thy seed will I give the land, and thou didst promise him and didst declare unto him, I will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven and as the sand of the sea, now may thy words be verified which thou didst speak unto my father. 7 For thou art the Lord our God, our eyes are toward thee to give us seed of men, as thou didst promise us, for thou art the Lord our God and our eyes are directed toward thee only. 8 And the Lord heard the prayer of Isaac the son of Abraham, and the Lord was entreated of him and Rebecca his wife conceived. 9 And in about seven months after the children struggled together within her, and it pained her greatly that she was wearied on account of them, and she said to all the women who were then in the land, Did such a thing happen to you as it has to me? and they said unto her, No. 10 And she said unto them, Why am I alone in this amongst all the women that were upon earth? and she went to the land of Moriah to seek the Lord on account of this; and she went to Shem and Eber his son to make inquiries of them in this matter, and that they should seek the Lord in this thing respecting her. 11 And she also asked Abraham to seek and inquire of the Lord about all that had befallen her. 12 And they all inquired of the Lord concerning this matter, and they brought her word from the Lord and told her, Two children are in thy womb, and two nations shall rise from them; and one nation shall be stronger than the other, and the greater shall serve the younger.
14 And when the officers of the king beheld Sarai they were struck with admiration at her beauty, and all the princes and servants of Pharaoh assembled to see Sarai, for she was very beautiful. And the king's officers ran and told Pharaoh all that they had seen, and they praised Sarai to the king; and Pharaoh ordered her to be brought, and the woman came before the king. 15 And Pharaoh beheld Sarai and she pleased him exceedingly, and he was struck with her beauty, and the king rejoiced greatly on her account, and made presents to those who brought him the tidings concerning her. 16 And the woman was then brought to Pharaoh's house, and Abram grieved on account of his wife, and he prayed to the Lord to deliver her from the hands of Pharaoh. 17 And Sarai also prayed at that time and said, O Lord God thou didst tell my Lord Abram to go from his land and from his father's house to the land of Canaan, and thou didst promise to do well with him if he would perform thy commands; now behold we have done that which thou didst command us, and we left our land and our families, and we went to a strange land and to a people whom we have not known before. 18 And we came to this land to avoid the famine, and this evil accident has befallen me; now therefore, O Lord God, deliver us and save us from the hand of this oppressor, and do well with me for the sake of thy mercy. 19 And the Lord hearkened to the voice of Sarai, and the Lord sent an angel to deliver Sarai from the power of Pharaoh.
15 And when he heard the words of his brother which he had spoken to the messengers of Jacob, Jacob was greatly afraid and he was distressed. 16 And Jacob prayed to the Lord his God, and he said, O Lord God of my fathers, Abraham and Isaac, thou didst say unto me when I went away from my father's house, saying, 17 I am the Lord God of thy father Abraham and the God of Isaac, unto thee do I give this land and thy seed after thee, and I will make thy seed as the stars of heaven, and thou shalt spread forth to the four sides of heaven, and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. 18 And thou didst establish thy words, and didst give unto me riches and children and cattle, as the utmost wishes of my heart didst thou give unto thy servant; thou didst give unto me all that I asked from thee, so that I lacked nothing. 19 And thou didst afterward say unto me, Return to thy parents and to thy birth place and I will still do well with thee. 20 And now that I have come, and thou didst deliver me from Laban, I shall fall in the hands of Esau who will slay me, yea, together with the mothers of my children. 21 Now therefore, O Lord God, deliver me, I pray thee, also from the hands of my brother Esau, for I am greatly afraid of him. 22 And if there is no righteousness in me, do it for the sake of Abraham and my father Isaac. 23 For I know that through kindness and mercy have I acquired this wealth; now therefore I beseech thee to deliver me this day with thy kindness and to answer me.
What I like about Jasher, a hidden book which many people do not know about though it is quoted in main scripture, is how detailed it is. I am and will probably always be a context person. Context means give me more than just a summary — give me the full story because I get answers through stories, I gain perspective and from perspective, I gain understanding! Tell it to me as it is and as it was.
On an even deeper level, the humanisation of people makes the grace of God much more pronounced. It even teaches what grace means, and what God's role in our lives is! It teaches what our role is: what submission means, what faith means, what obedience means.
We believe and are maybe even taught the Old Testament God and the New Testament God are different because of all the violence in times of old making Him look cruel and vindictive, but reading Jasher showed me that they are not different and that is why context of the times matters! He is the same now as He was then. I learn about His nature and that of the supernatural. How all these things come together and co-exist. Jasher taught me that even the greatest in the Old Testament were people with people problems who chose God and so He empowered them.
Abram, before his name change, was not just RANDOMLY called by God, instructed to leave his land and given a promise. He went through a phase where he SOUGHT God. He wanted to know WHAT God was until what turned into WHO God was. God revealed Himself to him. Does this not back up what is written in the New Testament about about seeking and finding? Knocking and the door being opened? Asking and receiving? Seeking the Kingdom of God first and then all else being added? Abram felt there was more than just bowing to the moon, or the sun, or the stars and the idols that his father worshipped. The man actually did have faith and for it he received goodness in great abundance. He was however VERY human and reading Jasher showed me by just how much!
No more than one and a half years after my Uncle's advice did I find backing in his words about using the names (and memories) of believing ancestors in my bloodline for the sake of my prayers to God for Him to remember and consider in my life for application. It feels like an unfair advantage but I hope it encourages you to be the "unfair" advantage your great great great grandchildren have when your prayers for them are remembered and answered in the Lord's faithfulness. The same way you think about and work towards generational wealth to make sure your children and their children onwards are secure, think of their spiritual needs and aid. Put that into prayer. Secure your people — speak miracle and blessing upon their lives.
[7] But the end of all things is at hand; therefore be serious and watchful in your prayers. [8] And above all things have fervent love for one another, for "love will cover a multitude of sins."
JESUS THE ANCESTOR
Please though, do not get me wrong! The finished work on the cross is enough for you! His name is enough for you. His blood is enough for you! DON'T YOU EVER FORGET IT! To quote a part of Jacob's prayer to God where he quotes the words of God: I am the Lord God of thy father Abraham and the God of Isaac, unto thee do I give this land and thy seed after thee, and I will make thy seed as the stars of heaven, and thou shalt spread forth to the four sides of heaven, and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed.
[12] "Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father. [13] And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. [14] If you ask anything in My name, I will do it.
This is why we pray in the name of Jesus! Think about how easy God has made things for us. How much more accessible He is because of the bridge made for the world that is Jesus!
[1] My little children, these things I write to you, so that you may not sin. And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. [2] And He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the whole world.
I am aware of the danger of misunderstanding what I have written about ancestry and prayer. It is possible that misunderstanding and lack of structure or sound foundation is what ushered ancestor worship into so many communities, even within the chosen nation of God. I must make clear that this is NOT what I am advocating for! I imagine that a power was noted, but the source of it forgotten and neglected (maybe even abused in one way or another). Just looking at how much we like instant gratification today (which is far from new like a great poet once wrote) confirms this — sometimes we don't want to do the work, or don't even understand the point of it so we resist and find other ways to serve our wants and needs "faster" and seemingly more "accurately" because of tangibility.
When Moses went up on the Mountain to hear from God, the people below grew impatient and even forgot who they were dealing with and what He had done for them. Just like that, came idols because it is hardwired in humans to want to worship something. We were made for it and that's why it is so easy to fall into it. Think of all the good things you have done for people. Now think about how they have treated you when they start to lose sight of your goodness OR never had it to begin with. It really is just a human thing, to lose sight of things, especially when we get too used to them or have no value for them. This is why we can't afford to get "comfortable" with God. Remember who He is, remember who you are and what He says you are. Remember what He has done for you because believe me(!) things could have been far worse if He wasn't present to some capacity. Remember His word. It is a ticket written 'never ending humility' and thankfully, we have a Helper to remind us!
I did not get into this with the intention of becoming 'preachy'. There are times though, it just happens and there is no stopping it! This is one of those times! I believe though, it is for our (including me) benefit.
Jesus is THE ANCESTOR! The one we are told to pray through. The name we are told to use, the one through which, all things are possible with faith. This I believe makes life much more straightforward for us in regard to connecting with God because there are many confusions and this can very easily end up being one of them, even though unintentionally! There is one purely righteous one who we can and should depend on. What I have said, I treat more like a WI-FI booster — the power of having community and fellowship. The power of having family that believes. The power of that which is encouraged greatly in the New Testament — love and having each other's back. What good is a family if it cannot even support you and you as a member of the family cannot support others? A Kingdom divided? You are always stronger together, and you are always to consider each other, not letting any fall or be burdened — you share to lighten the load and to move towards a common goal. You are quite literally one body governed by one Holy Spirit.
[1] Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. [2] And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. [3] And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing. [4] Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; [5] does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; [6] does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; [7] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. [8] Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. [9] For we know in part and we prophesy in part. [10] But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away. [11] When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. [12] For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. [13] And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
I wonder, have you ever had an encounter in your life where you knew it was God speaking? God calling? Even when and if you were in a very rebellious place? A very dark place? Even a man like Saul, who later became Paul has proof of heritage that goes all the way back to Abraham — A Benjamite! If that does not speak the power of God's blessing and promise, and also the power of being connected to Him in some way, even many generations back, how can we say that your faith and obedience today, will not count for your grandchildren's children many years after you have left the earth no matter their situation? And if all things are possible with faith (which they are and it is written) can you not secure your people such that even if they fall, seemingly very far from the tree (like Saul before his encounter on the road) they can (will) be called home? They recognise the voice of their Shepherd, just as it is written — God's elect. I think Paul's story is a great example of God's Grace, God's power being made strong and impossible to ignore in weakness. Most of all, I see the greatest love story ever written: from God to the world. "....love will cover a multitude of sins."
All that said, I hope I have made myself clear!
Like Joseph, I wondered after that dream. But what stood out even more is how when I needed it the most, in the depths of my grief which could only be because of the love I have for him and the bond that we share, wondering what I would do and where I would go without my dear friend my grandfather, the hand of the only person who could and would understand what his death meant for me was there for me to hold to support me. Like Rachel speaking to her son from the grave, empathising with her son's grief, I was, though in silence and by one action, assured that it would all be okay and that I am looked after because God is in control of everything, having accounted for even the things I question(ed).
On an even more personal level, I believe my grandmother's love for her family was very strong. Strong enough for her to have been given an opportunity to communicate with everyone who mattered to her and who she mattered to after her death to bid a proper farewell. Who knows, maybe she asked or maybe the Lord saw her heart and gave her what she needed. I was surprised to find out I was not the only one who dreamed about her after she died. What is that thing that is written about witnesses? Yeah, that! Given that we lived together and she was a mother to me, like my grandfather is a father to me, to have had a dream where she appeared again, well... What does that say about life after death? This concludes the second part of Mementomori. Death is inevitable, but there is life after it!
PS. Do you know God's promises to you? Love is the greatest commandment. Do you see the power of love?
MK. Author
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The Anatomy of Sin
30th Jan, 2026 · MK.
FictionMature. 18+
Every other week, he gives me three words to work with. Every week between these weeks, I give him three words to work with. Below is one from January 2026 that the word salt triggered the memory of. I "cheated" that time around because I procrastinated for so long that I had 8 plus weeks worth of words and no mental bandwidth to write multiple stories — there was just no way! 5 weeks worth were then merged into one story that I grew particularly proud of!
The story is of a woman defined by her role as a wife, mother and woman of God who longs for more. Pandora's box (pun intended) is opened after the death of her sister.
Here are the words: 1. Rosary, land, mandala 2. Fasting, wunderbar, autocorrect 3. Honeycomb, complain, road 4. Demand, goated, multiply 5. Hardcore, voodoo, grain
Introduction
I am nun-clad. From head to toe I cover my body. From head to toe nothing fits to show my shape.
I hide my hair and face, and meet no man's eye unless he is my spiritual guide or husband. Husbands usually double as spiritual guides since they are heads of the home.
I have only my husband. He is the only one whose eye I meet, he is the only man I see.
Mass is boring. It happens three times a week. Saying that it's boring feels like sacrilege, but we're not so strict that it cannot be said out loud. Opinions and suggestions are welcomed to make it more excitin- just not too exciting.
"Does your life excite you?"
I have responsibility. I have duty. I have love for my daughter. I have love for my family. I have respect for my husband. I have a role to play.
"So... No?"
I don't think so.
"And do you want excitement? Do you want to be excited?"
Yes. I do not know how to find or make that now. I do not know what that looks like. My daughter is the closest thing I have to lasting excitement. But really, I am more sad for her than I am enthusiastic.
This life is indited for her already, but I want her to live better than me because something is missing.
Her Diary
Entry 1
My sister is dead. We plan to go home for the funeral. I will remain behind for as long as they need me to help.
We travel tomorrow evening.
Entry 2
Why does God let this happen?
Entry 3
My daughter will stay with me. Her dad can't do it alone.
Entry 4
Even though somber, I like it here.
Entry 5
I just found out my sister was pregnant when she died. Why does God let this happen?
Entry 6
I met a man's gaze today. What I felt scared me.
Entry 7
I can't stop thinking about him. What is this?!
Entry 8
I saw him again. I think I missed him because it was a relief to see him.
Entry 9
Kendi isn't well. I may have to take her to the clinic if it worsens. I'll do what I can with what I've got first.
Entry 10
Kendi's fever broke today. Thank God! We are in the clear. My baby will be fine.
Entry 11
Wednesday service. That's how a praise and worship service should be! I haven't felt like this since I was a little older than Kendi. Wow! I can't wait for Sunday.
Entry 12
Learned that Lucy was married?! How? When? And why didn't she tell anyone!!!
It is good to know that there was someone in her life who cared. Good to know who the father of the baby was.
He is a trucker. He got robbed and could not reach her until he came back to town.
He's distraught. I want to comfort him.
Entry 13
He is the second man my eyes have met so far. He told me we have the same eyes. I am scared of what that made me feel.
Sad. My sister, a part of me, is really dead. Desire. He looked at me in a way my husband has never looked at me before.
Entry 14
Yesterday, we took a bus to a piece of land he had acquired for him and Lucy to build a home or start a business. They hadn't settled on what it would be for because he got it as a surprise, and for them to decide together.
It wasn't much, yet it was everything. I am ashamed to say that I wanted him in that moment. I wanted him in a way I should only want my husband.
When I got home, I could not even write. I just read and prayed to God to forgive me for feeling and thinking in that way about a man who was not MY HUSBAND.
Today, I have pretended to be too busy to even see him. He will be hanging around a lot it seems. I have to keep away from him.
Entry 15
Sunday Service was great. Just as exciting as the midweek service. In my highness of goodness, I met his eyes again. I wanted him again. I can't help but feel that he wants me too.
Entry 16
I can't stop thinking about him....
Kendi likes it here. She's made friends she likes and she is happy. I think, for her sake, we'll stay a little bit longer. I'll tell her dad.
Entry 17
He looks very nice. His arms, his chest, his stomach, his face, his hands, his legs, his feet. I keep thinking about him. I am running from him and then I see him and then I.... I like it. I like him. I want to see more of him. But it is wrong. It is so wrong.
If I keep my head down, if I immediately turn away when I see him, no matter how close or how far, I will be okay.
Entry 18
"If you have nice hair like your sister's, why do you cover it?" He asked me.
That question made me angry. I walked away. I did not even look at him.
What does that mean?! I am so angry!
I was so angry I wanted to push him against the wall, or strangle him, or slap him, or hit him really hard. I still want to do these things. I will stay far far away.
Entry 19
He came to apologise for offending me. He said he didn't mean to.
This was the first time since the land day that we were alone. This was the first time that we were alone in a room, MY room.
He presented me with a Rosary. I told him I am not "that kind" of a Catholic. He said it was a peace offering. He didn't want me to think he was after anything wrong, he didn't want the wrong impression to stick with me. And so, the Rosary was for peace, love and faith between us; and just to assure me his intentions were good.
Entry 20
Yesterday was wonderful. "Wunderbar" he taught is how they say wonderful in Germany. He learned this doing a small job for Germans in Nairobi.
His life sounds so exciting. So free. So adventurous. I like it.
I see why my sister liked him. I see why she kept him a secret.
He's a life no one here has ever lived, and an easy page turner: so open about it, so unashamed about it. He is refreshing.
I know no man like him besides our late father.
Entry 21
It's going to be a long road home. I will miss it here. I will miss the feeling of home.
I will miss him.
It is safer for us to be apart. It is safer for me. I have a life, a life I had for select moments forgotten about while I was with him.
Entry 22
Hugging him was the calmest, saddest and most turned on I have been in the arms of a man. I don't understand. Am I in love with him?
He said he will miss me and it made me blush. I looked in his eyes and said I'll miss him too. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't. I didn't. I can't and will never.
Entry 23
It's been a week since I wrote. There is a lot I had to catch up on.
We tried again for a child, and this time I liked it. I liked it because Lukas intruded: his eyes, his neck, his chest, his smell, his warmth. I felt things I have never felt before while my husband was in me.
My husband is happy. I am happy.
I think it's wise not to let that happen again. But I also think it's wise to let it happen again. It's exciting, it's interesting, and it keeps us together... I orgasmed.
It's true, you know when you know. There's nothing like it.
I am not sleeping with another man. I am sleeping with my husband. And even though another man is in my head, I have never touched him, and he has never touched me.
Why not stay happy in this place?
Entry 100
I want to go home. I want to see how they are all doing. It's been months since Lucy's death. A check in is due. Family time is due.
Kendi being in school will make it easier for her dad. He won't have to entertain her much, except for the weekends.
Lucky for him, she is obsessed with mandala art. She will remain quite self occupied, as she has been for the past month. I am glad she has found something she is passionate about and stuck to it. She has her excitement. Now I need mine.
I need love, I need passion, I need attention, I need to be against the grain, just for a short while.
Entry 115
My hair is out. My hair is out for him. He was right, it is beautiful hair. I like it like this. If he arrives at night, he might not see it. But I will keep it out.
Entry 116
He liked it. It was dark, but he felt it. He liked the way it felt. I like the way he felt brushing over it.
He was happy to see me, but too tired to stay up with me. Trucking can do that to a man.
I will leave him to rest. I will help him rest.
Entry 120
"Did you miss me?" I asked him this morning.
"Almost all the time" he told me.
"What did you miss about me?"
"Your ear, your strength, your eyes... your presence, and the things I haven't seen."
"How can you miss things you haven't seen?"
"I have a good imagination."
Entry 121
"I have a good imagination." I have a good imagination too. I should have just said that. He caught me off guard. I was too nervous to speak.
Has he been thinking about me the same way I have been thinking about him?
I stopped when things got too boring for me to even hang on. I needed to see him again. Even if for a few hours. I needed him fresh in my mind again.
Newer. Newer for improved visions. Closer. Closer for longer. With less and then more, more and then less, until none... maybe.
Entry 122
If I wasn't married, I'd be with him. If I were married to him, I'd be happy.
Entry 128
I am close to sin. I am too close to sin. When I am with him, I want to touch him. I want him to touch me. It is time I started planning my trip back.
I can tell he wants me because unlike me, he is forthcoming. I can tell he wants me to be comfortable, so he doesn't make big moves.
He flirts with his eyes, his tone, his statements, his walk. I want what I want but I am afraid. I think he is afraid of being wrong, so he keeps a safe enough distance...
I wish.... I wish he would give me something. Give me something tangible... Give me something longer lasting...
Entry 130
He noticed his peace offering on my chest, and then he noticed my chest. His eyes stuck to my chest. What he couldn't see he could see, even though there was more to be seen.
I liked the look on his face, I wanted more of it, so I showed him more. Quickly, like a flash, but slower.
He gave me something to think about; what I couldn't see, I could see. He let me see, he didn't hide it.
Entry 138
I spent the past three days playing with my husband, pretending that HE IS my husband. We have had the best time together. I don't like that he has to leave for two weeks, but it is well.
This might be good for me, being just me and my daughter. Fasting from what my body demands, and focusing on what my baby needs.
I wonder if he has noticed there is a pattern? That I come back with such strong drive and desire for him? I wonder if he wonders what I think about when I close my eyes and rise to the occasion.
Grief, he once said comes out in various ways. He said that the first time around, but he did not complain. He seemed rather charmed; elated.
Entry 139
Is my womb closed? Why can't I have another child? We have slept together more in the past few months than we have in years yet, nothing! It has been better than before and yet nothing!
Why? What have I done wrong? I was told that to increase the chance of pregnancy, I should sleep with my husband more frequently.
I did not like it, but I did. We tried. Nothing! When I finally liked it, it became less difficult to try. The frequency came up easily, but.... nothing!?
Could it be because I have thought of another man while we sex? Have I sinned against the Lord and my husband? But surely, it can't be wrong if I have not slept with the man, only dreamed of it, can it?
The only sin I can identify is showing him my breasts. He showed me his penis. We didn't touch. We looked, we covered, we went on with our day.
I repented of this... I left because of it... I was sure that if I stayed, I would touch him and he would touch me.... and we wouldn't stop until everything was done.
If he were a honeycomb, I would have licked and sucked the honey clean from the comb. I fled. I fled just like we are told to do, "Flee from temptation".
I fled, and I brought myself home... Home to my husband who became the honeycomb I dry out.
Maybe I will find out I am pregnant this time around. I want another child, just one more to make our number even.
Multiply! Multiply! "Be fruitful and multiply."
Entry 142
I am burdened. My heart is not right. My mind is not right. What was taught today proves that I have sinned.
Matthew 5:27
Like autocorrect on a keyboard, it has been spelled out for me.
I am an adulterous woman. I have been adulterous for nearly a year. Covetousness.
Turning away from it all is the only way to do right by my God and my husband. My family!
Entry 155
Why would they do this?! Why would they do this to me?!
She refrained from writing her thoughts and feelings about Lukas from then on because of how incriminating it would be if found and read by anyone but her.
She contemplated burning the book — watching the life she dreamed go aflame: burned fiercely to death, ash blown away by the wind.
The longer she hung on to the book, the harder her core turned. Hardened core... 'hardcore'.
Her contemplation and inhibition faded, she wanted documented memory within her reach whenever she felt like she needed reminding, which was often.
She was something like Lot's wife looking back, turning into a pillar of salt.
In Voodoo, salt is used to ward off sinister spirits. For protection, one would have to pour it at every entry way.
In Christianity, the instruction given to believers is to be the salt and light of the earth.
Whatever the case, the salt here was not of benefit.
In a bizarre way, she justified her inaction, claiming it saved her family from falling apart.
We can continue with her story if you'd like a part two.
This story is GOATED because I got very creative with the use of the words. Could be called cheating, but I say GOAT! 😂
MK. Author
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Kahawa Kadogo
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