JustSayIt

I’ve always been very competitive; I’ve always been very competitive with myself. I remember as a kid, the last thing I used to tell myself before I went to sleep was that today I know more than yesterday; tomorrow I will know more than today. It’s an obsession. Not only with regards to how much knowledge I have attained but also to other aspects pertaining to my life. Sometimes I look at the mirror and wonder. If I had chosen a different path in life what would the reflection show? Would I look slimmer, fatter, prettier, or more repulsive? Would I be smarter, stupider, kinder or more selfish? Would I have more friends, less friends. Would I have made different friends? What kind of friends? Would I have more memories or more regrets? There’s a thing called 'the butterfly effect' – there's also a movie illustrating this concept. It’s about how a small thing – a flutter of the butterfly’s wing(s) can make a whole impact to the entire worl

I hate routines.. I hate them with such passion. I keep telling myself to get into habits – any. But I won’t. I hate it. Unless I am emotionally involved in something I’m not going to do it. I hate it. I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll fall into a routine again as I keep doing for years and years on end. I do terribly. I’m trying to be organised for the first time in my life. It feels great! I’ve never been organised! I felt a mess and it showed. I’m panicking. I’m panicking that I will get into a routine and won’t be able to get out of it; that I will be oblivious to what is going on around me and it scares the hell out of me. I’m worried. I’m worried that I’ll do my very best but it still won’t be enough. I keep wondering what different people in my position would do differently. What is good or bad. Or rather I should think in the ‘grey’ area – whatever that means. What ideas would they have different than me. Why won’t these ideas occur to me! Why

Today I’m happy. Ecstatic. Or as they used to say, ‘over the moon’. And rightly so. Why? Because I’ve finally figured out my ideal career and I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about it any soon. It’s the kind of career of which I don’t have to worry about any flaw. I can even lose weight. I will never again have to worry about my hair, or  blemished skin, my thighs, the heat, or wearing anything on my feet. I don’t have to worry about being too this or being too that or that I’m growing too this and growing too that. All I have to do is - Swim. Yes, you've guessed correctly. I want to become a mermaid. And not just any Ariel! I want to swim to the depths of the ocean, with sea horses, colourful fish and tame sharks. Swim to the sunrise and sunset with a school of merry dolphins beneath a starry sky. Feel the rain splashing my already soaked hair and dye it too. Have a beautiful sea green tail and wear sea shells in my hair. Scare people away with my long, sharp nails and

Today I’m going to write about another memory. It’s not a good memory. It’s the kind of memory which leaves you wondering what kind of world we live in. That day I collapsed to my bed as soon as I arrived home. I was exhausted beyond measure, depressed, angry and helpless. I had to convince a girl not to abort a child. Usually my stance towards abortion is neutral and I don’t feel a need to voice my opinion because really and truly it’s none of my business. This case was different. I was staring at an 18-year-old girl with a two-year-old baby. She could not even look me in the eye, her pain was something you can feel from miles away, and the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness was unbearable. She knew no English (a friend/nurse translated everything). She was 5 months pregnant. Now if you’re 5 months pregnant and want to abort a child, you’re placed at a high risk of never seeing the light of day again - especially in this country. Also she 'wants' to marry a man

So today I woke up at 3 in the morning and had to grab my phone to write some of my ideas. Mind you, half I could barely understand, the other half - I suppose we'll soon find out. Lately I’m going through a crisis – I’m feeling a certain urgency. I can feel time ticking and it doesn’t feel good. It feels that life is too short and well, you never know. I suppose this urgency has been coming all the way from Africa. I met a lot of people and we knew we were never going to be around each other for a long time. Our time together was short. So we focused on our similarities rather than our differences and tried to make the most of it. In reality, it’s not much different from our daily life. You never know what tomorrow will bring. I suppose the reason why I’ve started this blog is that I’m seeing the ‘grand scheme of life’ in a sense. Maybe I will say ridiculous stuff or just bore my readers to death (which is fine ;) ) but at least I’m expressing myself and being at peace w

Let's talk about recipes. No, I’m not talking about actual food recipes, so if you were thinking of chocolate cake recipes you’re in the wrong place (but it does look scrumptious right?).  I’m talking about the kind of recipes which create ideas. You know, like I’m still in awe with people who came up with the invention of the wardrobe, chair, rubber band, language... I can’t imagine living without them but it’s a thing we all take for granted. Then there are the people who have never met each other but come up with similar ideas like books (content), hairdressing, and yeah, food recipes... I remember overhearing the conversation of someone who was doing some research of a local composer whose music sounded similar to a foreign composer (both names have escaped my memory) and composed them within the same decade or so. Thing is they never met and allegedly, they never heard each other’s music and it got me thinking. It could be that the ingredients are always a

Today I’m writing about some of my greatest fears I used to have as a child which haunted me. It’s about what reality was to me. I’m writing because reality is a question to most – if not everyone.  Unfortunately it is something we will probably never have a real answer to and that sometimes it is best to just live life and stop asking questions. I remember one day asking someone if I was still dreaming (as far as I recall, I was awake) and I was not answered but given a very strange look. I realised it’s not the kind of topic I should talk about.  I held various theories of how we exi st but I had no idea which was true. First and foremost, do I exist or is this simply a dream? If this is a dream what is reality? Is reality a world of monsters and cannibals (hence one of the reasons why I'm a vegetarian)? Or, does everyone know what the ‘truth’ is but me and one day someone will tell me that this world is a joke and I’m on candid camera. Yet what is reality away

Today I’m not feeling inspired. I’m still going to write something however. How shall I start? I’m eating junk food - I’m eating too much. I put it away. Less temptations. No, that’s not a good start. I'm beginning to get sick of my own writing and I should read fiction again. Let me start again. I cannot force myself to write.  Ok let me write what's going on my mind at the moment. I am scared that now I am baring my soul to strangers and that I will regret it. I am scared that in a few months, weeks, days or possibly hours I will read the blogs and go red in the face. Including this sentence. It’s not a comfortable feeling. But I hate hiding behind a mask. It makes me itch all over. I rub my nose. It really makes me itch a nd the word itch makes me itch even more. Oh no, now I’m really itching all over. There is also some liberating feeling after expressing some thoughts however. It’s like a layer of dust has been wiped off of me. There

I think mirrors are a curse and a blessing, each existing at the same time yet separately.  Although you own your face, you never see it. The thing is that it is one of the first aspects people notice and form their impressions upon (some, illogically). In truth, you have never really seen your face - save from the reflection of a mirror. Mirrors show you your face but it doesn’t always feel like your face. Sometimes the face looks strange; as if the face staring back at you is a complete stranger. Personally, I keep forgetting how my face looks like. I can remember other people’s faces but never my own so I have to keep looking at mirrors to remember. Lately I’ve also got in the habit for looking for blemishes – amongst them, wrinkles and wondering how I will look like in a few years time. Joy. In Kenya there were days I never looked at a mirror because well, there weren’t any. It felt unnatural and as if I were missing out from something. My face had become completely forgotte

What is happiness to me? Happiness is helping others and seeing their happiness radiating through their faces; being free; listening to unexpectedly good music; being free; the crisp, quiet wind blowing in my face while I close my eyes and walk in the dark; being free and being surrounded with people who are positive. And did I mention being free? It is not only because I want to emulate my favourite ever heroine, Jane Eyre “ I am a free human being ” but because it is exhausting beyond comprehension being chained to the wishes of a society of which values I abhor (at least some of them). Truth be told, there has to be a balance between being completely ‘free’ and not because it can become a precarious and slippery situation. Yet, in general, I believe society can be pretty confining. In Kenya, and in the first few days in Malta, I was experiencing a  natural ‘high’. I was feeling free. Free from the contaminations of society, free from negative thinking, free from f

Perhaps I will never really know why I can barely go through the first paragraph of a book before stifling a yawn and slamming it shut - but it was not always like this. I made it a point as a child to finish every book I started (all but five). I used to love reading. My friends belonged in every character of each story; the heroes and heroines, the animals and magical creatures and even the villains. However, everything changed when I read a French book – Monsieur Ibrahim et les Fleurs du Coran. My knowledge of French is very limited mind you, but we had it explained and translated at school and it was very inspiring. One of the core messages is that you have to live your life in the world and experience it through your senses rather than depending on books for it. Gosh did I take it religiously! Life took a different perspective. Life became meaningless surrounded by books – gems of all knowledge and wisdom. It may sound depressing and shocking to some, but until then, I only fou

I suppose this is another farewell. I need to write about it for closure since I cannot verbalise my thoughts and the nagging feeling to express it is bothering me. I apologise if I sound like a fool in the process and sorry if I offend anyone. I take that back. I don’t care if I sound like a fool but I still care if I offend anyone...   I miss Africa. I keep imagining seeing the people I know everywhere; in the streets or in the shops, on the buses or in some restaurant, in my imagination or not in my imagination - anywhere, any place, any weather and of course, waking up back in Funguo Estate. It all feels like a dream (not sure if Malta or Africa is the “reality”). It feels strange seeing ‘muzungus’ (white people) everywhere. I also miss the unpredictable life; the reckless driving; the chorus of “How are you?” chanted by the street children as they encircle you while licking stones off the ground as if it were an ice-cream; and the matatus (public transport - or clubs on wheel