Jirani chronicles

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              So I'm just chilling at my crib, I decided to call my G huwa namuita anko, (don’t ask why, story for another day because that story needs a whole episode on its own), tuonge tupange ma one two. Hata hatujaongea sana, nasikia my door ina gongwa gongwa na vurugu. Na pause kiasi.  You know that moment where your spirit steps out of your body for a second to peep through the curtain before you do? Yeah, that one. Na hang up call with my G, saa hio nashangaa ni nani huyu ananitafuta na fujo hivi? Naenda kuangalia, alafu nifungue, nijue how it will go down ie kama kutakuwa na throwing of fists. Kuangalia tu hivi, ni three burly men, wamekula chuma wakashiba ka crocodile imemeza wildebeest mzima time huwa zina cross River Mara Na tense kiasi, but najipiga kifua nilikuambia kama mbaya mbaya! Nafungua mlango nijue venye kutaenda, wananicheki hivi, design wanarudi chini then wako zile za  “Pole.” One of them turns to the rest anawaambia...

Damn!

 I’ve been quiet lately. 

Not because I joined a meditation retreat in Tigoni or went offline to “find myself” in Ngong Hills. No. My situation ship had ghosted me again, and my bank balance was giving K.P.L.C. token vibes, very dark and annoying. It started on a random Saturday in my crib. 


I was lying on my bed, scrolling endlessly through Twitter, laughing at people with soft lives, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a while, think. Proper thinking. Not the one where I pretend to reflect but actually just replaying movies in your head that you have previously watched.




I had this deep reflection while staring at my ceiling, asking the universe the big questions after munching on three chapatis with beans 

(you'll have to excuse my love for chapatis), 

and then as I lay there in silence 

(ok, there were a couple of mosquitos buzzing around, 

but still), 

the truth knocked, and it hit me. 


Accountability is not a punishment, 

it’s power. 


My empty account? The various interactions I had that had been draining my soul like Safaricom data when you use it? Everything wrong in my life? Lowkey, it’s on me. Yes, me. It stung, but weirdly, it felt freeing. Because if I’m the problem, then I can also be the solution.  


I made some changes. Small ones, like focusing on gigs that align with me, not just accepting anything because they said exposure. I stopped replying to “Uko?” texts. I even created a budget, funny right?


 (Ok, I blew it on day 3, but 

progress is progress.) 


I found peace in being alone. I started writing, not because I have all the answers, but because maybe, just maybe, someone else in either Kayole or Kitusuru feels like they’re drowning too. So here I am, still broke-ish. Still figuring things out, but now I’m doing it with my chest.


If you’ve ever sat somewhere and wondered venye maisha inakupeleka ka baiskeli ya kuibiwa, you’re not alone. But what if, instead of waiting to be rescued, you picked up the pen and rewrote your own story? Choose your own growth, real growth, like saying no to people. 


~Anonymous Writer


~Edited by Letstoriesunfold™.



Comments

  1. Nice one bro . signed by your brother Generali.

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