Shadow to my light.

Today in the morning, I do the curtains, and there’s this shadow cast on my bed. It’s coming through the window because my bed is right there by the window. So in my head I’m like, “Okay, so earth is doing that thing where I notice shadows in very unusual places.”

I raise my curtain slightly to confirm whether it’s just the curtain but no, it’s not.

And I love realizing these insane little things I can’t explain like a normal human, but they happen to me often. Like those late afternoons or early evenings when weird shadows fall on buildings… it’s the usual sunset but in a completely different way, and it happens maybe twice a year. I usually notice this mostly in August. 

According to my findings…which, please, don’t fact-check, because even I don’t fully understand what I’m trying to say…it makes perfect sense in my head though, okay?

But I just know that on my lazy days, I can never actually stay lazy in bed because the sun is usually directed right at me. (I bet God did that intentionally because He knew.)

But today? I can’t feel that sun, and it’s sunny outside. Very sunny.

Okay, let me stop with that.

I’m going back to YouTube Premium specifically because I haaaaaaaaaate this ad….“Do you suspect that you’re being cheated on?”

Come on, please!! I loathe that ad.

And before you even say, “Val, it’s probably your algorithm,” no sir!

I binge on Joyride, countryside content, therapy and wellness videos, workouts, and this doctor I love who teaches self-healing without medication….it’s hard to explain that part. I watch geography stuff too. Like yes, please, I want to understand Madagascar in all its uniqueness.

So I genuinely don’t understand how YouTube thinks I suspect I’m being cheated on (I am yelling). Because first of all…by who??? 🤣

But say, for instance, I ever found myself in a situation where I suspected someone was cheating on me (God forbid…Riswaaaaa)… I don’t think I’d go snooping to find out. Woooooooh!

That’s literally walking myself toward pain. Hapana!

I’d rather have it find me when I’m not looking. I don’t like stress, please.

In better terms, I’d call that detachment not ignorance.

Knowing that either way, I’ll be okay.

I know pain too well, and I’ve learned to embrace it, so…

I wanted to talk about the sketch pad I was gifted and how my sketching is coming along, but my intrusive thoughts won again. So I guess that will be a story for another day.

Sending you love and light from Gimarakwa village.

Cheers🌸

I wanted to have a rant….a whole crush out but sitting on it has made it sound less intense than it felt a little over two hours ago.

Then I picked up my pen and asked myself, “Val! What exactly did you want to write about?”

While working, I’ve been listening to this brilliant lady for about three hours. Okay, no….her videos aren’t that long, but I’ve watched around five of them back to back. In one where she talks about storytelling and how impactful it is, she says, “This country has always dehumanized sociology, philosophy, art, creativity… and that’s why we have so much but are doing nothing with it.”

I nodded so vigorously, I wish she’d seen me.

The background to this was her insistence on how marketing is downplayed. She’s lived in France and was musing about how someone can own a simple bakery at a street corner there, close for two weeks to go on vacation, and still live comfortably. She was really trying to understand where we’re going wrong as a country. And I know it’s many things,.. but that’s a subject for another day. I mean, it’s Monday and we don’t want pressure, right?

Still, what she said about the power of storytelling and how much we’ve downplayed it really stuck with me.

Back in campus, I started feeling misplaced. I realized I didn’t like publicity, yet I was already too deep in to turn back. Studying Communications was my childhood dream, so I had to run with it. I chose to narrow down to Public Relations and Advertising.

But even then, the confusion stayed. I still felt misaligned until recently when I noticed that I actually do really well behind the scenes.

One day, while I was still working corporate, a man from church (he’s a teacher) asked, “So what do you do?”

I answered enthusiastically, “I work in marketing.”
I saw his face drop. I could instantly read the condescension in his eyes.

It stung.

All through school, people would say things like, “You know comms is easy,” making it sound like studying communications was for dummies. It really messed with my esteem and so did that teacher’s reaction.

For the longest time, I hated being asked what I do.

Then the other day, Kwame asked me about the nature of one of the gigs I do and I stuttered. Inside, I was yelling at myself for downplaying my work. That moment made me realize I still wasn’t fully embracing or owning what actually keeps me afloat.

So I sat with myself the next day. I remembered. I felt the shame of being made to think my career was “lesser than.” And I released it because, honestly, my career is dope, man.

I talked to Carl that same day. I’d posted a WhatsApp status that said, “Working in marketing means your friends and relatives will never understand what you do for a living.”
His response to that was  “There is a lot in marketing than what meets the eye… Alafu watu hukuona kama dunderhead all the time.”  I told him, “I promise , one time I told this man from church I work in marketing he gave me  this awful condescending look. I just stood there like wah!”

He laughed and said, “Mimi bora it pays me, sina shida 😅😅😅.”

We ended the convo with me saying I want to be him in my next life.

But by evening, I decided I already am him.

I see the value in what we do in marketing and communications.

My favorite lady on TikTok, Julian Rozz, always says, “I help businesses scale visibility.”
And I promise, you’d be blown away by how much value visibility brings to a business. Not random attention, not some sort of a digital applause  but earned attention that actually builds something lasting.

So this random day, I get a call. The person is super specific about what they want. I try to explain, from my expertise, what’s realistic,  but they brush it off like nonsense. Fine. I go quiet. Then they ask me to quote my price. We go back and forth about their “budget,” and when I tell them my minimum charge, they gasp. Not the good kind.
At that point, I was livid.
We ended the call,  but I made a mental note never to work with people who look down on what I do.

You can have a team of brilliant software engineers, but brilliance alone doesn’t give you an edge in this digital space. So much psychology goes into this shit.

I’m a patient person, but one thing I can’t stand is people who look down on other people’s careers.

That said, I value storytelling deeply.

The last few days have really made me stop and respect my craft, and what I do for a living, even more.

Coming from someone who’s always been vocal about self validation, I see now where I was still falling short on my part.

Anyway, I was talking to Trizah the other day, and in between our conversation, she randomly said, “Sure, btw, have you ever thought of doing psychology ama counseling?”
My response was a little private, but she followed it with, “You should rethink it. You’d make a good therapist 🤭.”
I smiled. Thought about it for a second.

Besides comms, psychology was actually my second choice. I just went with comms,  but maybe someday, when the money’s right, I might study psychology and counseling. Just to tick off another box.

I know this was all over the place and a little heavy for a Monday but well….,

Cheers

Every time I get on TikTok and find that a babe viewed my profile, my mind immediately goes, “Eeeh ulikua unanisengenya sindio?”  because what else am I supposed to think? Haaaah!

Anyway, the meme that absolutely killed me this week is the one I’ve posted on my status…
“Tulieni, kila mtu atafanya wahenga washangae.”

Because YES! I’m hollering right now lol. I’m loving how everyone has turned their creative gears on, tweaking the “misemos” to what they actually should be.
My other fave?
“Before what goes around comes back, nitakua nimeshachange location.”
😂 10/10, honestly.

Now, this next part is random….
There’s so much abundance for everyone. Let’s leave behind that bad kind of jealousy. (Because yes, I genuinely believe there’s a good kind, the one that pushes you to level up.)
Someone else’s growth shouldn’t make you bitter honestly. Learn to either clap for others or just ignore them all together.
Tutafikiwa wote okay? But chunga ukiwa na roho mbaya unaeza pitwa by the way.

Anyway…
Chapter 10 of 12 has been a lot of things.
It started on a sad note, but it’s ending calmly. I’m grateful for every path it’s led me down… every decision, every idea, the peace, the calm. I’m grateful for the life it has allowed into me.

This has been the year that somehow felt both the longest and the shortest. Looking back, I just eased into it almost on autopilot. Everyone online was claiming the year, setting goals, speaking positivity and it was so beautiful to watch.
Me though? I was mostly mapenzi mtazamaji of everyone standing on business.

Then one day in January, I decided to make a vision board because I didn’t even have the mental space to write goals. (Heck, did I even have goals?)

I found a cute Canva template and filled it with nine intentions that felt easy to achieve unaware that I was, in fact, calling them in.

One of the boards read…
“I am in control of my thoughts and emotions.”
I didn’t even know why I put it there at the time.

Later, while flipping through my old journals from as far back as 2019, I noticed something…healing my nervous system had always been a silent wish.

And this year, that wish came true, but first, I had to be taken through the fire.
There were months I woke up crying, slept crying, and spent my days trying to hold it together. And during those times, phrases like “It eventually gets better” sounded so dumb. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again it genuinely does get better.

This year tried me emotionally, deeply, intensely. But one day, I woke up  and I was just fine. No pain. No dread. Just peace. But also because I didn’t wallow in victimhood, I decided to get over my bs and did the real work.

And eventually, I genuinely realized something beautiful happens when you heal your nervous system.

You start knowing which situations deserve your energy, and which ones are better left alone. You learn the difference between reacting and responding.

This year, I was taken through the fire and I came out with thick skin, and beautiful scars that remind me of things I can’t even begin to talk about yet.

October has been calm. I’ve been tired most of the time (because honestly, October feels like Thursday….you’re drained and just want to rest 😅).

But yesterday, I told myself, “Hapana Val, it’s tiring being tired all the time.”

Still, October remains my favorite month and I’m thankful to God for every moment of it. Thanks to Anne of Green gables (Anne with an E if you’d like)

I’m walking into Chapter 11 with gratitude and love.
Wishing every soul that bumps into this an amazing November.

Sending love and light.

Cheers.

I genuinely don’t want this to sound like a report.

I just want it to sound like me….. simple, soulful, and direct.

And so begins my rant…

I appreciate culture. African culture, and all the other cultures across the world.

I know culture is vast, layered, and my understanding can only stretch so far, but I hold deep respect for what I know and for what I’m still learning.

One thing I know for sure…. I’ve never looked at another person’s culture and deemed it lesser than mine. Before the Britts came, we had our African traditional cultures… unique, powerful, and beautifully different across tribes and communities. 

I respect my ancestors above everything.

I appreciate the diversity that stretches wide and far… from the beautiful shores of the Indian Ocean, across the vast beauty of the North, to the shimmering waters of Lake Victoria, and to every border that connects Kenya to her neighbours.

Borrowed from my dear friend Shamim, lately, in most of my prayers, I’ve learned to include this line….

“Lord, teach me to be humble in all ways, and grant me the knowledge and wisdom I require in all aspects of my everyday life.”

And by humility, I don’t mean slouching or staying silent when it’s time to speak up… and by knowledge, I don’t mean it in any cocky way.

The diversity we experience in Kenya is breathtaking. The cultures, the languages, the values…  all of it.

I, for one, am Maragoli from the greater Luhya community. Within the Luhya alone (according to Google), there are about 18–20 subtribes, imagine that! And under each subtribe, there are traditions and practices that define us. Yet, we all fall under one umbrella.,.Luhya. And I appreciate that.

One politician today said, “Nationality is a progressive concept, while tribalism is retrogressive.” I stan.

And honestly, I couldn’t agree more.

And this week gets to be the week I’ve lost my control about controlling my dopamine hit when it comes to social media consumption. I’ve been moving between threads and X like my life depended on it.  And I noticed something wasn’t adding up. 

Tribalism is disgusting…. genuinely. Especially now, in this age and time, when so many of us have directly or indirectly experienced the pain it brings.

No seriously though…. damn! I thought we were beyond tribalism.

My heart 💔. I’m honestly shocked. This has to be the most distasteful thing to witness, especially among the younger generation. Yuck!!!

So yes, I appreciate culture and diversity… but wouldn’t it be even more beautiful if we celebrated our roots while also respecting others’?

From where I stand, no tribe is better than another.

No culture is superior to another.

I’ve learned to cherish my own and extend the same respect to others.

I respect diversity.

And it would hurt deeply to see division take root again in the form of tribalism.

We are a woke generation.

We know better.

And I pray sincerely that we do better.

We can honestly adore and uphold with pride where we come from without diminishing where others come from. Genuinely, that’s the kind of pride I stand for.

Rest in Power, Tinga. Rest in Power, Jowi.

Okay, my WhatsApp status alone can’t accommodate my big, beautiful emotions so let me vent here.

As a young Val, there are three things my dad made me grow accustomed to.

The first; whenever we were going somewhere, he’d lift me onto his shoulders. Anytime he didn’t, I’d feel this tiny wave of disappointment.

The second; watching soap operas. Yes! my big guy loves soap operas. And reading novels. Recently, I got him onto Things We Never Got Over by Lucy Score, such a lovely read, but yooooh! Some of those scenes are nasty! I keep thinking, “Woi, my dad is gonna read that part… what will he think about me?” Anyway 🤣.

So technically, he’s the reason I turned out a hopefull romantic.

The third thing my dad got me hooked on was His Honourable Raila Odinga, “Baba,” the former Prime Minister of Kenya. And I’ve been shying away from calling my dad in the last three days because I know I will break down. I just know. Hopefully he’s taking Tinga’s death with strength.

This one, though, grew from something I picked up from him to something I deeply connected with on my own.

Like I’ve said before, I’m not big on politics, but I’m not ignorant of it either, because politics shapes our everyday lives. It shouldn’t just be treated like background noise, okay?

Still, I found myself drawn to this enigma.

Anytime he appeared on screen, my heart would melt. If he cried, I’d cry. When he smiled, my heart would swell.

As a member of the fourth estate, I deeply respect Raila Odinga for never suing the media, not once. Even when absolutely horrendous things were said about him, he allowed freedom of speech to thrive. Maybe he understood its power, or maybe it was his emotional intelligence as a leader. 

Either way, that kind of restraint and grace left a mark.

I recognize that in the last few years, he disappointed many of us in some ways, but I also recognize that he was human. People in the public eye make mistakes, too. Sometimes they act out of self interest,  but that never erased the good in him for me. 

Nothing could make me hate Raila for long. He had my heart in the world of politics.

I sit down and try to imagine how long six years really is, and then remember that he was detained for that long. He fought for our freedom, and for that, I respect him immensely.

I’ve seen him get crushed after every election. What angered me most was hearing people say, “Rao hatoangi kakitu… Rao ni mgumu, that’s why huwa hapati kura.”

Really? That’s what it boils down to!!! handouts? C’mon!

His wife’s eulogy was beautiful raw, graceful, deeply moving.

Ever since he died, my heart’s been breaking.

It’s wild because, just a week before his passing, I told a friend, “If Raila ever dies, my heart will break.” And it did.

I’ve never cried this much for someone who didn’t even know I existed. Every time I wipe my tears, I remind myself, “Val, this is your cue not to attach yourself to any politician again.”

But truly, none will ever live up to Raila’s charisma, at least not to me.

So this will be the last time my heart breaks over a politician.

I think about his family,  his daughter, who probably hoped she’d return from India with her father in good health, only to come back carrying his famous hat.

How they must have waited, hopeful, for his return on Thursday, only for him to arrive as remains.

I’ve cried so hard.

Maybe because I understand the brutality of death…

Or maybe because I just genuinely loved the man Raila Odinga was.

I honor him.

I’m writing this here because I never want to forget him. Maybe history books won’t do him the justice he deserves, but if God blesses me with children, I want them to stumble upon this and ask, “Mama, Who was Raila?”

And even if they don’t, I’ll tell them anyway, about his aura, his charisma, his strength, and how he went all the way to Kijana Wamalwa’s funeral bearing seven bulls and chanting, “Jowi!”

I’m proud of my big heart,  for holding space for such big, beautiful emotions.

Rest in power, Tinga.

Rest in power, Jowi.

I’ll live to tell your tales.