OF CAMPUS, CAREERS, JOB HUNTING & JUMPING.

When we finish high school we are quick to answer anyone who asks us what our plans are...and it’s the usual dribble, I want to join this or that university to pursue A B C D so that i can be a doctor, an architect, a nurse, an engineer and the list goes on and on..

Then you join campus and a few units later you start doubting your dreams of ever being that whatever title you had chosen...and instead of truly examining yourself you start drowning your sorrows in anyone and anything and this is when studying for CATs seem like the KCSE exams you left behind. Attaining average grades like Cs make you feel like you aced your exams

And before long you become a Group Think follower, that's the thing that many people tend to refer to as peer pressure. Where they go you go, and before long you are the life of the party and everyday to you is a day to party. Even better, you happen to know all the latest joints to hang out in, the coolest people and broke or otherwise you will do anything to get there.

Then second year passes by and being in campo feels more like a punishment than pursuit of knowledge. Attending class is like the dreaded visit to the dentist, and you classify all your lectures as boring, shady or not of any brain value to you but somehow once in a while the thought of your parent or guardian even sponsor sort of sobers you up and you attend class,  at least twice or thrice the whole sem. But it’s worse for those who attend those so called Christian universities like #Daystar some of us went to, where there is a percentage you have to meet for class attendance, all I can say you can only manage this by the grace of God especially when you factor in the conflicting lifestyles, where one wants to impress  peers and the other  be able to graduate. The institutions fail you if you miss more than three classes a semester

Then third year checks in and you have developed thick a skin like that of a snake, nothing shocks or fazes you. All innocence lost and if any is left its quite dismal. Some even a master of several vices some they never ever thought they could stand. Then they are those good girls gone bad,  daddy's little princess now the slut of the campus, Miss goody two shoes Carol now the campus chain smoker and anything else illegal. And at this point all you look forward to is attaining a degree regardless of what class it will be ranked in, so that you can at least get yourself a job good enough to earn you a pay to cater for your basics, nothing too fancy or colorful

All the while dreams of that big career are long forgotten in the Kaburi of Sahau (forgotten memories). In fact should you be keen by mind second year many campo peeps change their degree courses to something less taxing as they feel the need for more time for themselves or a course that would not demand a lot of them

And fourth year zooms in and very few are usually pleased with what empty shell their lives have been, and this is when some plead with their parents for more money using excuses to explain the number of retakes or why they will not be graduating come the end of that academic year. Retakes, regrets and more retakes. Every time the new class list is out and your name is called out you feel like a Zinjanthropus...

And it comes to pass in the new year of our lord you graduate and move on to the job searching, hunting hustler ambitions. Boring 8 to5 becomes your in thing, bad paying job, uncomfortable long Matatu rides to and from work. A few weeks into a job you feel caged, start complaining about your supervisor and before you know it the job is not challenging enough and their begins another job search, a quest for more or better pay

A few interviews later you land another job, more often than not it’s a Mhindi boss or a stuck up Miro with mid life crisis and its worse, more like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. And since you don't want your pals to judge you or your next employer to think you are unsettled you hang in there and take all the pig feeds.

And it goes on and own. But now it’s no longer about career or money, its more about comfort and the peace that comes with paying you rent on time, a job that's dependable, a boss that gives you room to wiggle, dream even. A boss that trust you ability to get the job done... and then it hits you Going to campus has nothing to do with career paths, they are those who are meant to follow their passions to the end, those who follow family legacies, those who achieve their parents dreams but there are those, who happen to be majority who just want to get by, put food on the table, have a roof over our heads and have a good time...as long as you are at PEACE that's all that counts!

NINETEEN YEARS ON AND I STILL FEEL THE LOSS ...

Exactly 19 years and 2 months ago the curtain of Life on My dad drew to a close. Year in year out memories of him flood my thoughts, daily I feel his absence and more often I conjure images in my mind of things we would have done together were he alive. Often I think about him and how different life would have been for my siblings and I, an absence so intense I have never come to terms with. I catch myself thinking silly and sometimes wishful thoughts of how we would have gone through the menses conversation, the first boyfriend, numerous heartbreaks, current lifestyles, my party animal stints in campus, my restless job changing and I mostly I smile because I know he would never have judged me and if he meted punishment I know in my heart he would have done it so lovely.

I remember vividly as my sister, brother and I run to his bedroom as we did every morning since he got ill for chitchat and so that he could catch up on our school work and whatever else was going on in our young lives.  It mostly centered on us complaining “ooh daddy she did this, “huyu alinichokoza” or we want something be it a book, crayons, toys or shoes. Then I was 7 years old and so full of life. At that time he had been bed ridden for a while and could not say or do much on his own.  One thing I remember though is his hearty laughter, the endless tickles we received and though weak his determination to sharpen our pencils, his endless reassurance that all will be well. I did not then understand what he meant by this but we would usually just lie there on his bed listening to him talk , help with our homework and even sharpen our pencils  until one of the grownups came to wade us off to school or just simply to let him catch  some rest

But then came that fateful morning, expecting things to be as usual we run into his bedroom but other than finding him asleep or doing his crosswords we were met by an empty bed,  the three of us  sort of in unison started calling out “daddy daddy daddy….and that’s when we saw him, daddy lay there on the floor… and with no immediate understanding of what had transpired late in the night we walked towards him, and I remember a fear, so fierce, so great, and greatly foreign tag at my heart. On reaching him his eyes were shut, he looked pale and on touching him, he was so cold … we tried waking him up, teasing, nudging him but there was no response and that’s when one of my uncles walked in on us and took us out of the room, we tried to bite, fight and even get back into the room but we could not.  I felt a pain so intense… and that’s when it dawned on me, Daddy was no more, my usually bright and happy world just came to an end that morning.  I lost the one and only parent that had been there for us through thick and thick, the one parent who had been a mom and dad to me and my siblings, I lost the anchor in my life.

A lot of years have gone by and I won’t dwell so much on what happened in the period after he was laid to rest and now because so much has transpired, some incidents so painful, so heart wrenching and some, things a child should never bare on their own. I grew up so fast and unfortunately forgot to be a child. The things daddy used to make sure we got, be it basic material things, things as simple as love, companionship and laughter became luxury overnight. For I  owe it to myself to daily struggle to be a better being, to be happy, to find love and to honor my late dad, even if it’s in spirit.  I struggle with making the most of everything, making decisions that although at times not good but the best at the time considering the circumstances. But despite my loss all wasn’t lost. Lady luck smiled on me, I was born into a family with a loaded paternal grandfather, go to Kericho county and mention my surname and I assure you, I am royalty not the Nairobi hustler you know, the Prince William kind of thing and all that comes with it, but that’s not all my grandpa is famously known for, Grandpa affectionately known to me as #Batany and #Kimoro in my region has a heart of cold, is so principled but very kind and generous as well.. And so the second phase of my life started under the watchful eyes of my grandparents, and he with the support of my beautiful forever young grandma tried as much as he could to make sure school fees is paid, we are cloth and fed and that we never ever lacked but despite all these there was an emptiness, so loud and intense, a wish full thinking for a normal childhood, for things the way they had been with daddy.

I remember vividly a Christmas incident in the late  90s, it’s so clear it’s like it happened just yesterday our extended family were all gathered, I come from a really huge family with my granddad having two wives. On this particular Christmas, other than the overall family photo we had to do family portraits and when it came to our turn, it had my sister, brother and I. And that’s when I realized we will never be like the rest of my cousins and we had to make do of what we had.

Then high school came and with a lot of inner turmoil, adolescents checked in and I rebelled so so much because I felt no one understood me, it’s funny the only thing that kept me going is the desire to make my late father proud, I mean on several occasions he had always told me I will be someone great some days. I had always topped my class all through elementary school but come high school I was more concerned with just completing the 4 years. It’s during high school that I sort God as things were so crazy if I am to pen down everything it will sound like a teenager high on drugs or suffering from suicidal tendencies. At some point I didn’t know if I was craving love, attention or it was just sheer hopelessness. Luckily in form3 I was lucky to get a desk mate called Carol who understood me and sort of became my confidant, even encouraged me. Then I had just been diagnosed with High Blood Pressure, she stood by me and its then she encouraged me to find a different way of healing especially through things that I like. I love writing and its then other than the journal I have kept since I was 7 I started writing poetry, short stories and even got to write for the hottest teen magazine in town

I am now past my mid-twenties and as much I have shed a lot of tears, made a lot of mistakes, taken a lot of risks but I feel that if daddy is looking down on me from above he would be proud of the young lady I turned out to be. I have loved and cried in equal measure. I have hurt, been hurt and disappointed so many times I stopped counting. I have fallen and sometimes so hard , a lot of people wrote me off, but you know what, every time I reach and hit rock bottom is where I find my true self, it’s when the greatest value he instilled in me stand strong, humility, perseverance, hope and the love of God. Every time I go through a dark or hard time, tears flowing endlessly it’s at this point that I remember how much my daddy loved me, loved me unconditionally even when he was in so much pain and its with this realization that I look up to God, and sort of in comparison realize that if an earthly father loved me that much then God, my heavenly father’s love must be greater in ten-folds.

And today until Sunday as people the world over celebrate father’s day I want to salute my late father #John Kiprono Kirui Belyon, although nineteen years have gone by I dearly hold on to memories of you ,near in spirit yet so far away…you will always be a true hero in my eyes.. Guess what Sunday being the actual father’s day I would have taken you for lunch all on me, I work nowadays you know.

Fashionista Maybe, but i love color

  Color for me?

For a lot of us fashion is going or flowing with current trends but I do not consider myself to be in that category. I believe fashion is real, it’s who you are more on the inside than outside, it’s your emotions, it’s what you are feeling on the inside and what you wish to show on the outside, its personal style, its more real , it Stands out and should more than you know . It speaks volumes of how comfortable you are in your own skin regardless of what designer piece or clothing, jewellery or perfume we have on.

From when I was little girl,little but knowing what is around me, I was captivated and keen on color, texture and smells. My mother and grandmother can attest to how picky I was. Being a girl everyone expected me to love pink, wear dresses, love roses and even teddy bears but I was not like that or maybe i was not made like that. Instead I relished comfort, colors that won’t show dirt as i loved the outdoors. I loved those that will not express my correct moods, i still do that up to date. I tend to use color to express the opposite of what I truly feel  and a lot of times in practical things. More often than not I got in trouble for wearing my brother’s boots, shorts, t-shirts and even jackets.

Twenty something years later my trend has not changed much,  I still get in trouble with my brother for stealing his cotton vest, t-shirts, altering his tweed jackets, shorts to fit both my taste and feminine body and i love his sweaters, they are bulkier and warmer around my horizontally challenged existence. A lot of this is out of feelings and needs from deep within me, I still choose what I want to wear depending on mood or what I want to portray. The times I am unhappy or stressed out I tend to choose a lot of color especially the greens, yellow, orange, reds and blues together, I do not have a knack for matching. My bag could be orange, my shoes blue, earrings yellow I am simple a walking Christmas tree though I hear nowadays this kind of behavior has a name Retro, color blocking whatever you want to call it.

When I am super excited or happy I go for whites, pastel colors, greys, black and brown, i guess to indicate how calm my seas are. There is never in between's for me, catch me dead in between moods. I do not just buy anything, everything is carefully hand picked, Wow! Wait a minute,I am now sounding more like the #Delmonte juice advert of each fruit being carefully picked and quizzed to give you that perfect juice blend.

 I also happen to come from generations and generations of fashionistas.  My grandmothers from both sides are so particular with how they dress, though one passed on in 99' God bless her soul. One, the matching type the other the mix and match. Fashion over the years has grown so intense in my family every Christmas holiday or get together looks more like the #New York or #Milan Fashion week. It’s not only in jewellery, shoes or a carefully put together outfit but it’s how the makeup is done , a simple braided hair look transformed to a work of art.

The simple No Nos.Not going to the shop outside my gate in patipati ( bathroom slippers) is as important as preparing to attend a wedding or a high end social function. I do not wear those freebies brand t-shirts i.e. Safaricom, Ariel , presentation matters to me. When indoors catch me dead in  hand me down worn out clothes, and if they have to be hand me down they better be  masterpieces to behold, I got quite a lot of beauties from grandma Elizabeth,  they add quite a classy touch to my wardrobe. So if its faded, ugly looking, worn out and does not bring out the best in you throw it out, or wipe them shoes with it, one of my mantras.

My love for color goes down to my relationships too. I like people who clean up well, i hold the thought that if it was bad looking from day one then no need for me to waste my time on a broken carriage. One thing I have learned  and know is that fashion is much more than a statement, it’s a lifestyle, its both the inward and outward of an individual. So if by a certain age one has not found their true sense of style then they probably never will and you will need more than a miracle to change that in them . Because if you try to change them or force them to at times you risk loosing the person or make them loose their personality in its entirety.

So as for me I will only dedicate my time to things that satisfy my colors.Things that will help me be true to my senseof style. I know  it sounds so narrow minded right? But tell me who is not  when it comes to meeting their selfish personal needs? Many times as a human race we focus on one thing for too long we are accused of this or that but isn’t that the beauty of being human?  so that we can create diversity or find self-satidfaction? If not then Guess thats the reason they say, 'Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.' As me signs off  i quote ye the singer, songwriter and actress Queen Latifah who says, “For me beauty is a state of mind, a state of love, if you will. Then whatever you do on the outside is a bonus.”