I feel excited writing this, I don’t really know if it will excite you as much as it excites me. It’s all about love and life, the red roses the blue violets and then there’s mine, or should I say ours. Note that relations, especially the intimate ones are not a walk in the park or as many view it; the expensive dinners, the long walks by the beach, or the couple’s photoshoots, or trending on all the social media platforms in each others’ hands, wearing matching outfits or the common expensively planned proposals; NO.

All I ever wanted was to be like those having everything described above but fate had me walking a different path. Love is tough, if I were to exergerate the toughness I would for you to get what I mean.

So there’s this guy we met at one of my favorite restaurant in down town, introduced to me by a friend. I wont get into the details about it but to sum it up; the first encounter was all hot, spicy, sauce, every lady’s dream but was never meant to last.

This guy was my friend’s new boyfriend, she had not revealed him to us for vetting as we had always done in the past. So both of us had the same guy, there we were flaunting him everywhere and anywhere we were or associated to.

The vetting day came, actually ’twas the girls night out. we had dedicated it to knowing our boyfriends and that is when all hell broke loose. I was shook out of my comfortable sit, I felt the world cave down on me, my bloating tummy gave in to a trail of fart. We laughed at our sorry hearts that are quick to love but as we always comforted ourselves, “we got to move regardless”

Hitting the road all day and night is a whole new fresh experience that glows up one’s soul, haha. I have actually tagged the pandemic season the savage minute, since for all the reasons there are it has been a bitter sweet experience; so you won’t get confused when I use it in between my story. so during this savage minute, I have had a chance to travel more than i have ever had to in my entire life.

No jokes about that since my african parents behave as most true african parents would raise their children thus explaining why I had never had a chance to travel as much as I have in the past few months. Yes, as old as I am getting I am still kept indoors or rather under strict supervision, the african child I am. Additionally my parents still have me under their care and I know you are wondering what changed amidst the savage minute.That’s a story for another day.

Focusing on my adventure, I’ve been playing a local tourist since I didn’t know how my motherland’s beauty was to what extend until now. The rolling hills carpeted with fresh grass, huge trees and the flourishing tea plantation, the falling waters are just a sight to behold and the mighty rocks crowning the views. I don’t understand why some of these places have not been preserved so the communities around benefit but then, let nature take its course.

All these places replenished my thirsty quest of adventure but one place amongst the many I visited had my breath held in my tummy. The high and mighty rocks forming plateaus with trees growing from the plain all the way up to the height of the sky scrapping plateaus. Right at its foot is a long flowing plain extending to the horizon where it serves a beholding sight of the setting sun.

Mama nature never lets down, let’s appreciate her by protecting all her fruits.

I am gonna summarize it as a minute since proverbially that is how many would tag long periods of time with a minute or second. I have actually had rough times with the existing pandemic given the fact that I had to be locked away with people I never considered friends nor enemies. you know that feeling of being out of place or rather third willing in every social group you find yourself in then that is what I am trying to pass. Having to endure every second of savageness has been a walk on hot coal. But for every savage second there was an outlet and the savage minute gave me a chance to reconsider things, rethink and definitely approach things and people differently. I am finally appreciating the savage minute for the whips and sweets it served me.

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I love and appreciate the african culture, narrowed down to the foods, drinks and dressing codes.

With every look at this photo, I see my culture, my favorite drink passed down to me through generations of ancestors. This milk referred to as ‘mursik’ is fermented, thick and has flavor. The most tantalizing milk I have ever tasted enriched with nutrients and flavor has a unique recipe.

The africanasity in me oozes with every drop of this milk because of the flavor and its significance in my community. The flavor added is extra unique since it is traditionally acquired from a specific tree, whose stems and brunches are burnt and crushed into fine powder before being added to the milk.

Many people tend to assume that this type of milk powers athletes since it is originally from the community of the best athletes in the world. I would recommend this milk to anyone who visits Kenya, just ask for the ‘mursik’.. yummy yummy drink. I believe it is available everywhere and anywhere in Kenya.

#@culture, #@africanasity, #@mursik,

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This dog I met in one of my rare visits to my uncle’s looked cute but brought a lot of memories rushing through my mind.

Sometimes promises are the most beautiful lies. If I can take you down memory lane to my childhood, when lies were part of me, thy vessel of vague promises. at one point, while at home, chilling in the house all by myself, I hear a knock at the door. Being an african kid, one is not supposed to leave the house unless instructed otherwise; so at this point fear engulfed me since I was not sure whether to open the door or not and who was I going to meet at the door made me scared.

My mother was long gone to her friends’s place and had been expecting her early enough since darkness has started creeping in. I feebly walked to the window to confirm who ‘my guest’ was at that time of the day.

I don’t know her, was sure i had never met her and was not ready to take any risk. being a kid i had no option but to rush to my room and lock myself in in case ‘my visitor’ tried forcing her way in, while silently lamenting on my mom’s whereabouts. She had promised me to be back in time before darkness but it was all a lie. tears cascaded down my frowning face as i cuddled under my bed.

from that experience i find it hard trusting anyone, especially those who like/love promising. i believe promises are the sweetest to the conveyor but bitter to the recipient since they are not even sure if they’ll be accomplished.

living in the dark shadows has always been my thing except when it comes to writing. putting down my thoughts, ideas and wild imaginations fades out the invalid being in me; which explains why I’m doing this blog. I would value sharing some part of me with you which could either help you in one way or the other or inform you on something you never thought of its existence.

photography is part of me and i’ll be using some snaps to help with my story; kind of create emphasis and help with my ideological focus.

photography being the base of this blog i would divide my ideas into ten topics that brings out my passion, sensitivity, curiosity among others

• some of the ideas will be based on gardens (parks); bars,restaurants, grills; food, drinks, fashion (african wear) among others. keep following and stay tuned for new adventures and experience