Profound Thoughts

 Today in one of the English classes we found ourselves discussion the question - what event in your life shaped your the most?- The student said, she had many, and when I asked her to pick one, I also mentally picked one.

Hers was the period between her parents' divorce at 16, teenage rebellion and the resocialisation she experienced when she moved away to study at 19 years old.

I told her about moving in with my mother at 17 years old and suddenly becoming aware of my new position. Before, with my grandmother and uncle's family- I was just a growing child, then young woman. With my mother, I was an adult  that needed to pull her weight.

I didn't also mention that it was also at this time I realized that I had squandered all my chances.

Let me explain. 

I was a performer, an A student through primary school. In highschool I just  lost interest. So when I came home with a very average B, in a year when 60% of the country's top students had an A and A-, it wasn't well received.

My chance to get into a mainstream Uni, where I would get a Government Loan was lost. My mother could not afford a private Uni.

I was cooked.

And right away I realized I was gonna have to work twice as hard to take care of myself because the period of handouts was over.

That is how I found myself doing two jobs and evening classes at 19.

I am still doing multiple things. I teach, I lock hair and I sell my books.

My third book is out now and you can order it at +254701030005.

Price: KES 1,300

Peace, Maybe

 

I have been thinking, talking and even reading about peace and today I thought about how, despite not always feeling very peaceful, I  have managed to somehow find peace within myself.

Not that everything is alright, I still have noise in various parts of my life, but when I come to my house, take off my shoes then brew a fresh cup of cardamom tea, I feel really good. I almost feel like everything is alright with the world. And perhaps it is, at least in the universe that I frequent.

My friend asked me how I was feeling and how it felt to have moved to a different place, away from the bright shining lights. I told her my nervous system has calmed down. And the minute  I said it out loud, it's liek I confirmed it, that yes, the wheels are turning  a little less faster than before.

It's not to say  that I haven't spent some nights wondering what's gnna be the end of this? Or  what will be the outcome of this other big risk I have  taken? There  has  been uncertainities, but through them all I have managed to calm myself  down and do the next thing  that needs to be done.

And  maybe  that's what it is, peace might be; the energy one has to be able to get up and participate in life.

This Chic: Growing Finer.

One of the things that have me really pumped is how beautiful I feel recently.

 I have never had a problem with my physical appearance, but whenever people said to me- oh you are so skinny, I wish I was skinny like you- I have always slapped back the compliment by saying- oh, but I wish I had more junk in the trunk, and a cleavage-

Because when you are born on this continent, you find out quite early that if you cannot shake your bum bum, then something is missing.

 I tried to gain weight, several times, but the more I tried, the more I lost, and one time when I actually put on some kilos, it all lined up along my midriff,  and burst the mixed tribe race myth I tried to hide behind and confirmed me  100% Kikuyu, no DNA required. 'Tires' are a speciality we the daughters of Gĩkũyũ and Mũmbi cannot escape.

So being slim all though my 20s and most of my 30s wasn't really ideal, and even when I look at my pictures from then I cannot say I really like the look.

Then came the 35 turn and things started to change. I got fleshier, my skin looked brighter, and with my hair locked. I kinda locked in the look I have been wanting all my life.

One time I even texted a friend to ask 'Okay, now I have cleavage, what do I do with it?'

Hitting the gym was a game changer too.

SO many times I have caught my image in the mirror and mentally done a double take coz damn, who is this fine looking mama looking back at me?

I love my body, I love the calm pace that I have attained. I no longer rush through life melancholic like I did for so many years.

 I guess it has something to do with acceptance too. Accepting that this is my life now, this is the best it can get, and the people in it right now are the people I have carefully tried and tested and finally decided that, these are the people I want circling my orbit.

These are the people that know my flaws but still hold me when I need to be held. These are the people who give me strength to be great. Because  even when I have lost faith in my self, I get a little prod in my back to tell me, 'keep carrying that light you shine high.' I have a whole battalion of humans and other living beings that support my existence.

 Part of living is understanding that we cannot exist in a vaccum, we are communal animals we are living breathing creations  that must be, not only connected to the source, but, must continually feed from other creation. We are co-dependent, and slightly fused, if we attempted to detach we'd fail terribly, collapse, lose it all.

There is extreme beauty in my life.

Perhaps that's the reason I feel beautiful, even with scars and a body that likes to take long agonising breaks sometimes.

I recognize radiance in most spaces I find myself in. I have the ability to hold beauty and ugliness in both hands, I have enough  grace to clutch tightly at pain in one hand, while joy reverberates on the other. I have gained the poise to know that while I may be good, while I may try to do good and live a decent life, I am constantly making mistakes, giving in to wrong ideas sometimes, my toxicity is always present in my life. But there is consolation in the fact that I am dust. Not star dust, that's too high, I am earth dust. 

But while I may be clay, I am trying to be the best version of clay I can be.

(CATHARTIC)

A Home for the Nomad

 Between chasing the chicken from the outdoor kitchen for the 100th time, sweeping the rice grains now scattered on the floor  while trying to stop my grandmother from eating the raw onion that rolled to her feet when I scattered the chicken, the village gives a body enough activitiy in a day. You do pilates, yoga and zumba all before 10.00 O'clock.

And when you again get to the sink and notice the pile of dirty utensils that has gathered once again, peace is not the feeling that you get.

But amidst the disorder, there is a pulsating energy that carries you on it's shoulders  like a flood current, slower, but all the time moving, moving.

I walk bare footed, all around the rooms, around the compound, up and down the land. the heat  in the earth wraps my feet like therapy, like reassurance  that, I was part of the ground. That I am the daughter of the soil, I was hewn from this earth, and each step grounds me, firmly.

Someone asked me ; why do you move around so much?

I gave her an answer.

But my truth is different, I move around so much because I have never found a place to call home.

Perhaps it's the pastrolists blood coursing in me rendering me restless. Moving with the seasons, and only stopping at one place long enough to exhaust its green grass, and then it's time to move again.

I only recognize one place as home, the one that I grew up on, next to the forest. But I cannot be there, so as long as I am alive, I am a temporary citizen on this earth, with no particular attachment to place, person or tribe.

I am a soul that walks its own path, guided by my own  true North.

Conversations into Adulthood: Dating after 35

When I was past 35, I thought to myself, nothing can move this heart anymore.

And I was fine, happily running the rat race, making connections, finally able to afford some comforts, living in a leafy green neighbourhood with friendly neighbours and shopkeepers, with fat stray dogs and hardly any stray cats.

Then one day I got a dm asking me on a date to discuss a life ever after.

It was exciting, to think that I could actually go out on a date with someone, The last date I had been on was when I was 25, which wasn't even really a date, more like a fishing trip gone bad.

I even went out and bought a little black outfit to wear on the supposed date.

And my heart thumped as I rehearsed  answers to questions I expected to be asked.

I even started daydreaming about future dates and and how I would be telling younger women 'you really don't have to search for a husband, when the time is right the good Lord will provide one.' 

But before the supposed date I decided to ask someone, 'hey by the way, without giving me dirt what can you tell me about huyu mtu wa kwenu?

And mtu wa kwao said, 'well, Cecilia if being fed and clothed is what you are looking for then go for it, but you and I know that you have been feeding and clothing yourself long enough.'

I understood that without the need for subtitles.

In the wellbeing pie chart that includes physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and financial triangles, only one of them was shaded.

And soon enough I would be proved right.

Picture a middle aged woman,  in the middle of the night googling 'What is loving bombing? 'what is ghosting?'

Within two weeks, I had been lovebombed and ghosted, left hang to dry with my little black outfit which would never see the light of day.

And as I tried to understand that kind of behavior I got a better understanding of modern human behaviour.

And so  I choose my peace, I can only accept silent treatment from Che. Not a fully grow up person, hī, ūngīkīgūrūka. You can lose your head.

Good thing is, experience has taught me to turn negative energy to productivity.

And that is how within a month of my heart being wrung out, I published my first book.

Buy my book to read more conversations.

+254701030005

Conversations Into Adulthood- By Cecilia Gathoni

 

1. Conversations on Becoming an Adult

There is a moment in every life when laughter becomes a little heavier, when one’s reflection in the mirror starts asking questions instead of giving answers. Conversations on Becoming an Adult opens with that subtle shift — the realization that growing up is not about birthdays or tax forms, but about the quiet decisions that shape one’s moral and emotional core.

In a voice that is both wry and wounded, Gathoni examines the intersections of independence, longing, and self-definition. Through recollections that oscillate between humour and heartbreak, she sketches a portrait of what it means to be an adult in a world that expects performance rather than authenticity.

There’s wine and worry, self-doubt and stubbornness, but also the smallest rebellions — like refusing to conform to someone else’s measure of success. It is a chapter for anyone who has ever whispered, “I think I’m doing this wrong,” only to realize that everyone else is, too.

A meditation on becoming and unbecoming, this is where the reader begins to sense the heartbeat of Conversations Into Adulthood — steady, vulnerable, human.

Would you like a copy of the book?

Text Gathoni at +254701030005

(Disclaimer, this article was AI Generated.)

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This Chic- Meeting People who Remind Me that Life is Beautiful

 

The other thing is, I like interesting people. And meeting interesting people. In fact, if I meet an interesting person, I become actively involved in bringing them close to me, it can even get a little awkward 😸 Especially if it's a man, or a young man.  They might think I am pursuing  them. I have had to do damage control at times to tell the person.
'No no no, I don't like you like that, I like you, as a human being, nothing more. I can't even imagine, you me, me you, ew, no, no 😸😸.

I met two interesting people this week.
I should mention that this was a good week for me, above average. It had both the good and the bad in equal measures.

The first one was a girl, who knows about plants, and animals and she can cook.
The other was some guy.
We met in a small pig (gakūrwe).
A small pig is a passenger service vehicle that doesn't qualify to be a matatu, but it's not a probox either, Iko hapo in-between.
We were headed for a funeral, and as people talked, ( coz in small villages people chat and catch up in public transport)

I asked the one that seemed to know a lot if they knew where there was a funeral in the area.

He called a few people and soon told us where to get off, how much the motorbike should cost us and if we decided to walk, how long it would take. The guy next to me said he was going the same way, but he would walk.

'Can you walk?'
'Not so fast, but yes.' I said.
I told him I am recovering from an injury, he immediately took my bag and carried it for me.

As we walked, we talked about death..how suddenly it can come.
He told me he lost his sister one year ago.
'I am beginning to recover but that hit me really hard.'

I inferenced that humans were not supposed to deal with death.
He asked if the frame of my leg was affected and  advised me to take minerals, vitamin D and B 12. I told him I was taking them.

On the way back, he told me we could go back together.
I learned he was an athlete. A respected athlete.
He got me a ride with his guys.

We rode, me, my new friend, who's friends thought was my husband, or boyfriend. He was  neatly dressed I noticed, and well spoken.
His friends made jokes, the kind of jokes my brothers make.

They do deals, like every other younger Kenyan millenial.
The driver said, 'Haha nīho tuokaga kunyua mahehu'
'Mahehu nī matūī?'
'A we ndūngīmenya.'
'Mwīre nī caai aiganīre.'
We laughed.

'Na nītūkūrūgama handū tūnyue gacai,'
'We rīu tūrīgūtigaga mūciī nīwakūra.'

What I've found out is  that many dull people are actually very interesting if you manage to get past the dullness.
Not always, but you know how the loud can hold a crowd but with no substance?
The seemingly boring people can tell a well rounded dark joke without batting an eyelid.
Their counterparts would need a translator to get it.
Some loud people can be worth your while  though if you can get them to calm down.

After the meeting with that athlete, I couldn't stop thinking about artists and creatives in the 21st century, and how despite the clear knowledge about the role of creative art in modern society, we still get shoved to the corner. We stand by the sidelines.

He is a runner, who trains every day, morning and evening, but has to work on his farm to maintain his daily needs. The few races he may join in China or France can only cover so much.. He cannot earn from his God given gift 100%.

Just like I could never afford anything on a Feature Writer's pay.

So we have to do a side hustle.

And attend courses we don't really enjoy. Just so we can get a job.

Did I enjoy business classes? I did actually, apart from the Quantative Methods, which had me dropping big tears on the exam paper when I saw the test had more than three questions on my worst topic- Probability. I failed. I passed everything else. Excelled actually, in Communication, in Personnel Management, in Marketing,  and surprisingly, even in Financial Management. 

But KNEC, being KNEC, does not just issue certificates at will.

I may not get a chance to explore every new interesting person I meet, life is moving at a startling speed. But when I do, at least o the intial meeting, I make the most of it.