The Inbetweeners

Across my platforms, I often struggle with releasing content consistently. I worry that if I am not consistent – if I am not constantly in your face – then I will be forgotten. Worse still, I will be replaced by someone who is consistent. And it is that fear of being replaced – of being irrelevant – that keeps me posting. Even when the work does not meet my standards. But I'm self-aware enough to know that something far deeper than my fear motivates me. Or rather something other than this particular  fear is to blame. I am motivated to release content consistently because it feels good . It feels good to labour over a podcast episode, an essay, or a column and see the finished piece come into being. I rarely experience satisfaction, and yet the moment I cross my last 't' and position the last period, I feel complete.  I feel ... whole .  For a brief moment, I am proud of myself and what I have been able to accomplish. As quickly as that feeling comes, does it vanish; and ...

As a friend and I waited for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 to start, we had a discussion about representation in cinema. In particular, we discussed Disney's Live-Action remake of The Little Mermaid. While we both applaud Disney for doing the bare minimum, we think that they are going about it the wrong way. Rather than recasting black, or non-white, actors in roles previously filled by white actors, why not tell our stories instead? Therefore, instead of The Little Mermaid, perhaps Disney could draw inspiration from the Anansi of West Africa. Or the story of Wekatilili wa Menza's 800km trek from Northern Kenya to the Coast. Or better yet, the story of Empress Taytu of Ethiopia! At this point, my friend pointed out that major production houses would only focus on stories which were well-known. Hence the never-ending Cleopatra movies and the rise of stories about Queen Amina, Queen Nzinga, or the Dora Mijale . I conceded that he has a point. At that level of creation, art is not...

We' re all aware of line etiquette, right? The idea is that, while waiting in line, there are certain unspoken rules that we all follow. Chief among them?  NO CUTSIES!   While there are exceptions to this rule (like pregnant women, the elderly and children), it’s pretty constant. No cutting in line. Turns out there’s another exception to this rule, as I learned at my cousin's ruracio. Men get to skip the line. Multiple times, men were ferried to be front of the line by an usher. It happened to me, at least,  TWICE .  First of all... huh? Why was this happening? Yes, Kikuyu culture is patriarchal. But why should this mean that men get to eat first? Especially at a cultural rite of passage that, in my opinion, focuses more on the bride than on the groom. Although ruracios celebrate both the bride and groom, they are held at the bride’s house to negotiate dowry and terms of payment. This event is the first step a family takes in facilitating their daughter’s marriage ...

I don’t know when Friday became my favourite day of the week. Even though my weekends are rarely remarkable, I still look forward to Friday. To me, it’s the day equivalent of the moment before you jump off a diving board. Or the second before you say yes to that date. A moment, removed from time, caught in the nexus between what was and what will be. Brimming with the potential of what could be. Pretty cool huh?   I think it’s the same reason I’ve always preferred the act of getting ready to go out, to the act of going out itself. with the latte, it’s kind of set in stone. Once something happens, you can’t change it. You can only accept it and find a way to move on. Which sucks. And is deceptively tricky. But before that thing happens, you experience the wonder of endless possibilities.  One of those possibilities might entice you to be something different.  Others may convince you to stay the path.   I hope this weekend you pick the opportunities that spake joy and ...

Okay. Before I begin, allow me to preface my commentary with the following.  First, my knowledge and understanding of taxation is limited to IB Economics HL. And, second, as I transitioned into the labour force, my capacity to care about taxation was limited to two questions: (1) how much do I owe; and (2) is it fair? Having said this, let's talk about the Treasury's plan to raise PAYE (income tax) to 35% for individuals earning Ksh 500,000.  My first response to this was, good. Great. In Lizzo's words, "about damn time." If you make more money in a month, than an average Kenyan could make in 2 years , then you deserve to be taxed at a higher rate. In fact, this level of taxation would fulfil the very purpose for which taxes are collected ; which is the aggregation of national wealth to enable its' redistribution to the most vulnerable in our communities. However, as a Kenyan (and quite honestly, a person on track to – hopefully – exceed this monthly wage) I...

When I started this 30-Day Challenge - she says as if it hasn't been all of 3 days - I had hoped it would be... to be honest, I want to say "easy," but that's not the right word here. Neither is compelling. Or reflexive.  I think, or rather I hoped that, the challenge would allow me to be. It was supposed to be an opportunity for me to immortalise the many, random and often contradictory thoughts that keep me company. I just didn't realise how vulnerable this process would leave me feeling. I didn't anticipate how exposed and raw I currently feel. Nor could I have foreseen how this challenge would animate my feelings of inadequacy.  Rather than exploring what I could do, this challenge has reminded me of all the things I can't do. And how I've allowed my fears to stop me from exploring other types of writing. Specifically, my fear of failure. I don't mean this in the sense of not getting 'enough' clicks or views. At least, not entirely. Whe...

In the show, Good Omens, there is an exchange between Aziraphale - the angel - and Crowley - the demon who tempted Eve in the Garden. As they watched Adam and Eve leave the Garden, they reflect on what just happened and on God's reaction to the first sin. And Crowley, in perhaps one of the most existential cases of a person you dislike making a pretty valid point, makes a pretty valid point.  Speaking as equals, Crowley asks if God may have overreacted, considering it was our first offence. At that point, our only sin. He then adds, on the nature of the sin itself, that "I can't see what's so bad in knowing the difference between good and evil." To wit, Aziraphale, the angel responds, "Well it must be bad, because you tempted them into it." When Crowley continues to probe Aziraphale's reasoning, Aziraphale says that this was all a part of God's ineffable  plan. And because it came from God, the plan must be good. This means that the suffering w...