The Kanju Chronicles

Such is life 😀

By Loi Awat


We picked up our 8 foot long set [for Relief], which was put together by Bonnie Muritu, a carpenter based in Gikomba market. He bought us breakfast of tea and bread, although at the time we didn’t know how much we’d need it later in the day! We took a mkokoteni (cart-puller) from the market into town – all the while taking footage and pictures for our behind-the-scenes documentary, and helping the mkokoteni man to push the load.altAiFGiCbnD29BmLqBICRO1FL2HiRp1FspkV3KJPjaKAi0

We got into town through a busy street (Accra Road), and got held up in traffic – that was when a man came up to us, and began hustling the production designer Mumo. He was challenging Mumo to take another photo – “si upige kama wewe ni mtu wa media!” (“Go ahead and take more photos if you’re a journalist!”). When the traffic moved and we tried to…

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Mwanamke ni kublush

I have a friend (word used with a pinch of salt and a serving of yoghurt and chili dip) who has a habit of calling me when I am in a matatu. You know how your voice changes when you are talking to certain persons while in public? My dad, I will talk as though he is seated next to me and use words like ‘surely’ ‘aren’t we growing old’ and ‘you are just awesome!’ If my boss calls I try keep it vague and not use big NGO words (my goodness the number acronyms in this sector is just unreasonable) and generally not make conversation that makes me SOUND important. Then there is this friend (word used with a pinch of salt and a serving of yoghurt and chili dip)…

I blush, I giggle and generally look nothing like the macho self I am when I am sitting in that public transport seat.

I don’t like this one bit.

I have been called mean. I know I can be mean. I have comeback and comments spewing out my mouth and a great deal more held back at my tonsils as the voices in my heard laugh communally and in an uncivilized manner.

Complements do me in. If it’s from people I trust with my emotions I turn to goo on the inside but to maintain my macho look I will say, ‘Why thank you, I know;’ in a horrid Southern accent. But if I don’t know you that well, I swallow your complements like I bitter pill. But keep them coming. They are good for the esteem.

That said, this friend (word used with a pinch of salt and a serving of yoghurt and chili dip) just… makes… me… feel…

Back to work.

Cheers guys.

Doing the dirty

There are a few observations that I have made in the past few days. Not that these things were not there before, I just never cared to notice them.

We are a people who like free things. Respect and honor are not common because there are bounty hunters hired by the wicked to choke out good seed. Media, society, yourself- whatever. Pick whom to blame.

We want to have sex and not pay the price. Allow me to reel you back in as I am not talking about commercial sex works. We want to focus on the science and pleasure of the act and not pay with our emotions or soul. We want to shrug it okay because really for you, it’s okay! Never mind that you profess a faith where doing that in a context NOT in marriage is wrong. I mean, my goodness! How unfair is God! We are sexual beings! Feel free to say that line again slowly shaking your waist round. You’ve seen it in the videos.

But let’s say you are the good kind. You don’t do the deed because “hallelujah praise [insert higher power’s name] I am keeping to the straight and narrow!’ but you have explored every inch of the human anatomy. And it’s not a corpse. So go you!! Head first in the game, eating ravenously at body parts that even your own mama would die of shame if she heard.

And let’s say you do none of that. You are nice. Sweet. Role model. But you are an emotional harlot. Yes. I said harlot. Stringing along members of the opposite sex and have them fulfill your emotional desires. You don’t want to pay for the hearts you take in the process because I mean- that’s why lines like ‘I see you as a brother/sister/ friend’ are pulled out and you make it look like their fault for falling for you. For that you get the Sneaky Emotional Harlot badge. Well done!!

Alas! But it doesn’t end there! We got the outright players, the religious pimps, the double standards crew, the I Swear This Is Cranberry Juice crew that reeks of booze… We got all types in here!

The baby daddies with the side chick, the girl who samples birds of a feather, people who stick to their own species, a testimony that the law that opposites attract is not really a law. Then there are those who just can’t get lucky. Smile, we are not talking about you!

Then we have the truly righteous ones, fenced in like sheep with packs of wolves circling the fence, salivating and from time to time snatching a sheep that flirts with danger. Here keeping your dead down is the only way to survive.

But shhhh! Not too loud, they might hear you and call you judgmental for mentioning all of this, burn you on a stake and get back to their orgy because God forbid you take away their freedoms!

It’s their right to take and not give. It’s their right to have you dish out freely and not pay for what you give. It’s their right for you to do it with a smile.

But hey, this is me just trashing your parade. Feel free to kick me out and continue doing your thing.

*puts out a cigarette and joins you.*

Mwanamke ni mood swings

Loosely translated to mean ‘a woman is characterized by her mood swings’

This phrase holds true to me for the past week so I thought I take this opportunity, throw caution to the wind and say what really what thoughts make rounds in my faculties. Along with an array of typos 😀 It will probably come to bite me later but hey, we live and we learn. And plus I am on acne meds and one of the undesirable effects is ‘change in mood, depression…’ So let’s just blame those, yes?


Let the rants begin…

My posts have been conservative. This is because of the sort of people who read my posts. Some of them are family and other people whose perception of me I should be concerned about but the dip in stats tells me everyone is busy- I can relate. Finding time and energy to write a post is getting rather hard.

Conservative is not what I feel some of the time. I would love to dedicate an entire posts to this one guy who I perceive to be an utter nincompoop and then write at the bottom ‘Also see’ and provide links to other posts of guys who I thought were utter morons.In the same breath I would write a heartfelt apology letter to my former editor. I really was the nincompoop in this one 😦

I could write about how my previous employer (ya…) is acting rather… let’s just say she is testing my patience. I am all for ‘living in peace with fellow brethren’ but I am also of the opinion we don’t have to communicate. Really. Si lazima. Like ever again. I simply don’t owe some people my time. Or energy. Or anything for that matter. Peace of mind should join that list as well *working progress* #bitterness 😀

Then we can talk about how the title ‘intern’ usually comes with a ‘give her all the stuff you don’t wanna do’ tag attached to it. I am okay with my supervisor asking me to fetch her coffee (which she will never do) but I am not okay with other people I don’t report to giving me work they don’t wanna do that does not relate to what I do. Not unless I am learning something, like auditing, but scanning your stuff for you? Come on! That ain’t on my JD! 😥

I could also talk about how I think the church is so broken yet no one in it wants to admit it. I know I am broken and flawed but isn’t that what we all are? A body of broken people seeking wholeness in a Divine Being? So this business of using the pulpit to give personal information about a flawed sheep is wrong on so many levels. These types of preachers are worse than the men and women who present them with gossip. This has happened in just about every church I have been to and I am FED UP.

Let’s talk about women, shall we? We are our own worst enemies. I think we are just plain dumb. We all look down on Eve for what she did when we are the same damn way. We spend time and energy hating and gossiping and tearing apart and comparing and being insecure about anything and everything…Woman please! Get a grip! Or Christ! I acknowledge the awesome ladies and women in my life that who aren’t like this. Thanks for being you and a blessing.

And while we are putting this out there, yes, I do go out. To clubs. Not often, but when there is cause (birthdays, cousin reunion, weddings, grad parties, depression or a conglomeration of all mentioned a fore). Yes this is me being real. If this blog is meant to be a representation of the person I am then I might as well be honest. That said, I have lost my taste for alcohol. My mum must have been praying real hard for me to get out of that phase…


This is me saying I am imperfect but a working progress and God knows where my heart is. What the rest of the masses conclude doesn’t change my state of being.

So, until my next outburst… *sips coffee*





PS: If you disagree with any opinions expressed here, approach me and let me know, don’t go blabbing out to the world about it. You clearly wouldn’t be helping my life in any way. Thaaaaanks! 🙂





Perfection: The lie we live

There is something about being alive that guarantees your messing up. Case in point: I was satisfied by the time I put down the fork for the main course. Now I am full and sleepy after going all out on the dessert. In a room where I have the lowest position, dozing off is not an option- it will just make you look bad, never mind that you have no idea what is being talked about. Yes, the perks of being a rapporteur; fancy name for the excitement level of the job.

I have no idea what this guy is currently talking about.

I have no idea what this guy is currently talking about.

Don’t get me wrong, this sort of exposure is good. Even though I will space out from time to time and respond to emails and the like, I am able to understand generally what auditing is about.

Back to my first statement: I have been fighting the perfection demon for a while and just this morning as I remembered some awkward blunders from the weekend, I recall telling myself as I hurled myself out of bed, ‘Welcome to humanity!’ and indeed, welcome.

Working on perfection is tiring. Willing things to go your way is tiring. Being a victim of circumstance you have no control over is tiring. Working to change things within you that not even willpower seems to be the antidote is tiring.

Clarification: when I say perfection I am not talking jasmine scented farts, hair always perfectly made and supple smooth skin. Neither am I talking about having the latest fashion, The Walking Style or having the most amazing, funny and enlightening things to say.


I just want to be okay with my blunders. I want to laugh at them. I want, when a friend is plastered and crying, to laugh at the whole thing, and baby them with new found patience and amusement. I want to brush things off in a jiffy. I want to move on. I don’t want to look outside the matatu and think, ‘Friends with benefits… Jesus come today. I wanna be with you!’ or even ‘Honey, you are broke. Ati you are going to pay for that trip how?’

I want to pick when I think and what I think about. I want to look outside the window and think, ‘Ah cool, they are planting trees along the highway’ or ‘Oh, never noticed that school there’ or ‘Dang! Look at the progress on Garden City!’

My mind is usually extremely occupied to the point that there are things inside our office space that took more than a month to notice- from the BLUE pinning board at the corner of the room (yenyewe it is beyond me how I missed it) and how there are windows that open differently.

I want to be free. Free from the LIE that perfection is attainable. I want to stop thinking about perfection. I do believe that a certain degree of it can be attained but I also believe that it should be effortless. Why? Because my soul is weary. That means I am doing something wrong.

What is the fastest way to find a lost pendant? Stop looking for it.