One day I will write about this place..

One day I will write about this place. 

I will try as much as possible to describe its indescribable nature. 

The way it comforts one while beating them up. I heard rats do that. They bite you and then blow some air there so as to sooth you lest you feel pain and swat them away. But anyway, there are no rats here. 

Just silence and myself. 

And on that day, I will tell of the isolation here. You see, there are days when silence is medicine. Like when silence is actually appreciated and bears fruits. When silence and calmness and peace are almost synonyms. 

But not in this place. The silence here is so loud that I wish for noise. I who enjoys solitude so much have been driven mad by this silence. It taunts me. It holds dancing festivals in my mind during the day when I’m surrounded by human beings. It camps and lights a bonfire at night when I thought it would give me a break. It reminds me that when all is said and done, inside there I’m alone. And no one, not even God, is getting through that deafening silence. 

And hopefully when I write about this place, I will capture like a good picture, how thoughts are futile here. You think and think. And think some more. But for once in my life, thinking doesn’t result to anything. 

In this place thoughts are like meaningless words on a book. Your eyes glance over them but they don’t register in your head. They make no difference. They add nothing nor remove anything. In some other places that life has taken me, thinking led to worrying, in yet others, thinking led to solutions. But in this place, thinking is a futile process. 

When I say one day I will write about this place, its because I hope by then i’ll not be here still. Writing involves a reader and a writer. Its a communal activity. This place reeks of isolation. It reminds me of a quarantine. I don’t know whether i was bad for the world or the world was bad for me, but all the same, I found myself in this isolated place alone. 

One sees no end to this place. It has no beginning nor an end. It looks like a desert. Or an ocean. But when you are in the middle of it and have no idea which way is out. 

And unlike other places, one just can’t get used to this place. Why? Nothing works to your advantage. I’ve been to places where even pain worked to my advantage. Here, everything is a potential enemy. It bites you when it feels like. But all elements here prefer silent treatment. Like they won’t hurt, but they won’t keep company either. 

In this place, one feels as if they are in water, they are not drowning yet, but neither are they floating. One is just flailing their arms. It feels lethargic. Like every movement costs energy. But no progress is made. So sitting looks like a better alternative. Just to sit and get haunted by the silence here that one goes back to trying something. Anything. It doesn’t work. So one sits. That doesn’t work too. And the cycle continues. 

And I hope that on that day when I write about this place, that writing shall exorcise all things associated with this place out of me. There are places I happily keep memories of. Others where I still keep those memories, but not necessarily happily, to remind me how far I’ve come in life. Some places get forgotten just to be opened once in a while when I take a walk down the memory lane.

But this place will get none of that. Or at least I hope to forget with every cell in me that I was ever a sojourner here. If it was possible I would burn it down when I get out. But remember it has no beginning and seemingly no end? So for once i’ll pray that my amnesia does what it does but at the right time and to the right things this time round.

But should you ever find yourself in this place, don’t worry I’m not going to give you advice. I mean, nothing works here anyway. But should life decide to give you a dose of this place, please write about it if you write. Sing about it if you sing. Document it for those who’ve never travelled to this sides to get a glimpse of what this place looks like. 

But I sure do hope against hope, that one day will write about this place. 



There are days you wake up and you are all sad. Like nothing makes sense. And hopeless. And desperate for anything to bring back a genuine smile upon your face. You wonder if you are ever going to be okay. Like you don’t even know what’s ailing you. But you are ill inside. 

You feel trapped inside this pain whose source you can’t pinpoint. You feel as if you are a burden to those you talk to. You are afraid to call for help because you can’t explain what’s wrong. 

You wish your pain away. You pray your hurt away. You watch your illness away. You read the thud in your head away. You imagine and fantasize your heartache away. And nothing. Nothing changes. 

You look at the things you were supposed to do today. The plans you had. The activities you had planned on doing this day called today. 

And then you look at yourself. At your strength that is not even enough to hold you up for a day. At your mood that seems straight from devil’s store. You look into your mind for focus but all you get is a total clusterfuck in there. You look into your spirit for motivation and encouragement and all you get is how tomorrow will be a better day but not how to survive today. 

And then you look into your today and you feel pity for it. It was supposed to matter. It was supposed to be a fruitful day. Maybe not a happy day, but a day lived nevertheless. 

And instead it has turned out to be one of those days that go down as wasted in history. 

You look at the things you write and you have a kinda smile because you love starting your sentences with “and”.  Its a kinda smile because even the things that fire up can’t get you smiling today. 

You look unto God- your first and last hope. Your only hope if you are sincere. And you wish He could be moved with compassion and steal some joy from tomorrow and sneak it to today. 

Its not like you don’t trust Him. Its just that you are in a bad place. You know His word his true. You know He will fulfill His promises to you. If He didn’t, He would be breaking His own record of faithfulness. 

But you just want Him to be human. And then He could hug you and tell you its going to be okay. But wishes don’t come true. The reality is that He is in you. And you want Him to just materialize for a second. But He is spirit and I’m physical. 

You see people holding their kids. And you know that deep down you are not fit to be a parent. What if one day you just woke up and didn’t feel like living? What would happen to that little soul?

You get angry at your situation. At life. And at circumstances that don’t seem to go away. At problems that you thought you were done with. 

Everything is a trigger for sadness. For helplessness. For hopelessness. And being here frustrates you. You wish you could do something about it. 

I mean, you only had responsibility. One body. One human to take care of. You. And you are failing while at it. 

The stars always shine


A sister died last week. Not my sister like that. A lady who used to play the keyboard during our bible study. I don’t remember her. But I can feel the impact of her death in our bible study. We had a moment of silence for her. The way they do in televisions when someone big dies. And in between those seconds, so many things ran through my mind. Being Mercy, I obviously wondered what all other people were thinking at that exact moment. My mind has this habit of trying to decipher what the other passengers seated in matatus are thinking about at a given moment. But before that thought could get an answer, I wondered how her best friend is doing. And her boyfriend. According to me, those must be the most broken people right now. They weren’t born with her like her sisters and brothers. They found her, connected with her and loved her for who she was with all her misgivings and strengths. They must have made plans with her. They knew her secrets. She had hopes for them. And now she is gone. To a better place. For me, her death, encouraged me to treat my close friends well, to love them the best I can. Because when one of us is gone, who will the remaining character text kumwambia udaku?
Life is hard. At times it breaks you. The other times, it stretches you to abnormal lengths. There are times I go before God, and I have no idea what to tell Him. Not because I’m speechless, but because I simply have no idea what on earth is happening inside there. Sometimes I take it all to Him, other times I take it out on Him. But one thing I have come to appreciate of the Lord, is that He is always there. All the time. There are times I need Him to speak, other times i need Him to act. And at times, He has done nothing of what I expected. But He has always been there. Faithfully so. Every single time. And there is no time I have gone before Him, and left feeling the same way. Life is still hard. Before and after I go to my God. What changes is how I feel inside there.
I can’t believe the year is almost over. So much has happened. So much has changed. I broke up with someone at the start of the year. I went for an attachment to a place I wanted so badly. I have traveled to a self sponsored trip to Malindi. Among many things. But above all that, the most meaningful event, has been finding myself. My voice. My scars, what makes me tick, what I can’t stand, what I love, what I desire. And that has changed my priorities and goals and dreams. Kitambo I was in the bandwagon claiming on the way I will not buy a car before a house because that is a foolish decision. Now, I’ll buy a car the first chance I get, does not matter whether I’m still in my parents house. Because a house speaks of stillness, settlement. I want none of those, I want to travel far and wide. I don’t want to stay in the same place for too long. A car will help me, a house won’t. I’ve learnt to own my goals and heart’s desires. And to stop explaining them to the world. If it understood them, then why on earth would it still need me?
But above that, this has been the year I’ve fallen in love with myself. Here, I wondered whether the ten year old Mercy, would be proud of the woman I have become now. Today, in between one of my toughest personal battle, I found the answer. When I was asking myself that there, I thought of it in terms of the achievements so far. But when I searched deep down, the little Mercy is not wowed by any achievements. She is moved by the internal strength and will power and determination to keep moving even when every single cell in me thought and felt otherwise. She is proud that I have known when to give in, when to give up and when to ask for help. As this year ends, in my books, it has neither been a good or bad year. It has been full of extreme highs and lows. Am I glad it’s almost over? Again, depending on what you are looking at. All in all, I have learnt to celebrate myself. Practically. Not just words. I love the cardbury white chocolate with biscuit. It’s a small pleasure I can give to myself. I love traveling, and so I will look for doors of opportunity for that. Where there is a way, there is a will.
And as our sister’s soul rest in peace, I realise that the stars always shine. We might not see them because of the clouds, but does that take them away? Even in the worst of times, there is always, always something to be grateful for. Appreciate yourself. Take care of your friends the best way you can. Live life. And above that hope.