It’s Wednesday, 10th May, 7:03am. The morning is glorious, brimming with chill wind. I wish I was alone in my thoughts, but I can’t because I have hitched a ride with my kids as they are being dropped off to school. I want to stay present, absorb all the energy that this cool morning brings, before the sun decides to surprise us and remind us that even in this cold season, it can show up at will. I can’t begin to explain the torture that I have gone through for the past couple of months before the rains came through, having to deal with hot nights which resulted in drenched sheets and waking up in a pool of sweat, and having to persevere a 31 degree sun while also exuding heat like a walking generator. I am 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant, hence why. And this, this is the only year for the first time, I found myself wishing I lived in Canada or Faroe Islands.
I am seated at the back seat with Xia the young one. She hardly ever utters a word on the way to school, and reserves all her energy for her teacher who she bombards with stories the moment she walks into class. I love this about her as I am also not a morning person. Yes I will happily wake up at 5am but no, don’t come into my space until noon.
Xena on the other hand acts like she was dying to wake up and remind the world of her presence. She whistles as she showers, talks incessantly to the nanny over her breakfast of masala tea and sweet potatoes, and still has content to share on the drive to school. She would make a great radio show host this one!
Waiyaki Way is already bearing the weight of impatient matatus and private cars, while throngs of wananchi fill up the sidewalks as they hope to catch the worm. Xena spots a fuel tanker ahead and goes on and on querying the driver about them and why they are labelled as “Danger” or “Dangerous Goods”.
“Because they carry fuel which can easily explode.”
“What makes the fuel explode?” She queries further.
“Exposure to fire.” He mumbles, seemingly apprehensive as to where this line of questioning is going.
“So if the tanker is not exposed to fire it will never explode, right? Which means the signs are useless and unnecessarily alarming unless the driver intends to drive through a fire.”
At this point the driver is tongue tied. He scratches his bald head then seems to have a light bulb moment.
“Not just fire, but even a flame or a spark which can appear out of nowhere.”
“I don’t see why anyone in their right mind would walk around holding onto a lighter with a naked flame.” She retorts.
This conversation goes on from Waiyaki Way, down James Gichuru Road all the Way to Lavington. Usually, they get dropped off first then I am dropped last, but I don’t want to hear another question on explosives and naked flames, so I ask to get dropped off first. I wish them a lovely day ahead and slowly, one swollen foot after the other, haul myself out of the car.
“Woi mama, do you wan’t me to carry you?” Xena teases.
It is now 7:30am. I walk into my office to find no electricity, and I power on a couple of other sockets in other rooms, just to be sure its not a case of a faulty bulb. This confirms my fear. I power up the generator and proceed to settle at my desk, and flip open my MacBook. My employees usually report to work at 8:30am, and the next one hour of solitude means the world to me.
For those new here, allow me to re-introduce myself.
I am a former investment professional (14 years), mother, wife and now proud owner of KIDS’ Nook, the newest kids’ members club in Nairobi ( @kidsnook_club on Instagram) and soon to be a new mother (again!).
I started writing (or what would be referred to as blogging) in 2015 while on maternity leave after getting my second born baby Xia. I was 30 and bored stiff (don’t ask where I found the time, I also wonder the same in retrospect), so I took up Bikozulu’s writing masterclass and kinda sharpened my writing. And so for five years, week after week without fail I would write about my motherhood journey, which later morphed into my corporate and personal travels and just life in general.
And then life happened, more responsibilities in my career, too much travel, fear of backlashes from the netizens which made my writing rather inconsistent. This was all between 35 and 37 years. But now, I am 38 and approaching my forties with the clarity of a church bell. If “kujiamini” was a person, then that’s I!
For someone whose writing is as authentic as they come (if I do say so myself), it was really hard to pen down my thoughts this year without addressing my third pregnancy as it was obviously a big part of my life, alongside growing my business. So now you understand why I dropped off the band wagon in February unceremoniously, but since the cat is now out of the bag, I can’t wait to get back to regular writing and posting!
I have so much to share, kwanza about pregnancy in your late thirties, and building a business single handedly, from scratch no less! Wuehh!! It has been the real ghetto, but well worth it so far.
Happy to be back, and looking forward to welcoming the third X soon. Any guesses what name we have settled on?