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Confessions of a First Time Pregnant Woman

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
19

My friend and fellow journalist Wambui Ndonga recently shared some of her thoughts as a first time expectant mom here. She is seven months pregnant, and her sentiments are those that I’m sure many pregnant women share, and for those of us who are moms, they are feelings that we all had at some point. This is what she wrote: 

1. Whatever you do, don’t stare at my bump. It’s rude and creepy. And I understand you’re curious and have all these questions, but if you want to find out how to get a baby bump, please google. Google is your friend.

2. Do not stretch out your hand to rub my belly. Quite frankly that creeps my baby out- he goes like ‘bleeeergh’. Baby-bump rubbing is reserved for close friends and family. And no we are not close friends if we suffer awkward silence after two minutes of conversation.

3. Do not remind me how big I’ve become. I am not big; elephants are big! I just have this three-kilo baby growing in my womb. Besides weight is a sensitive topic and I’m still every bit the self conscious woman.

Also Read: What Foods Should a Pregnant Woman Eat? What About Liver?

4. Do not point out the zits on my face. Just so you know I own a mirror so I noticed them way before I bumped into you. In fact I wish they consulted me before positioning themselves on my forehead to save me from the morning scare.

5. Do not ask me how far along I am in my pregnancy. I know I look like I’m about to pop 11 little babies anytime now, but I’m only two months pregnant and it sucks to be reminded of how heavy I look despite having seven more months to go.

6. Don’t tell me that I eat too much. The Doctor says I have to gain about 12 kilos (or thereabout) to have a healthy baby plus I like indulging in food. Life’s little pleasures.

7. If you got to learn about my pregnancy through the photos I posted on Facebook, do not confront me about it. Those who deserve to know already know. Trust me it’s nothing personal really; don’t take offense. We’re just not that close.

Also Read: Is there Any Harm in Pregnant Women Eating Stones and Other Non-Food Items?

8. If you’re going to speculate about my baby daddy because I’m not married yet, at least have some class. Engage me in some pointless banter and I just might tell you. At least we know a man was involved.

9. Sometimes the last thing I want to do is talk about my pregnancy. I’ve told that story so many times, I think it’s time I reserved the questions for my little one. I am not a pregnancy ninja. Again don’t take offense if I ignore you. Just smile and wave.

10. So you’ve noticed that I walk like someone with crabs. I’ve become quite heavy as you have most definitely noticed so walking like I’m on the runway has become an impossible task. So many forces including gravity are working against me right now. Be so kind as to understand.

11. Don’t hate on me if I wear high heels despite looking like a python that swallowed a football. It’s really none of your business. I wasn’t planning on having a natural delivery anyway and if you’re so concerned about me breaking my back, just tell me. Your sneers won’t do the trick.

But by all means go ahead and open that door for me, pull out a seat for me or give me way. Such little mercies go a long way in making my journey and that of my little one quite enjoyable.”

I absolutely loved Wambui’s piece!! Did you too?

*Wambui’s confessions were originally published on Capital FM.

Also Read: Ginger Helps Reduce Morning Sickness in Pregnancy

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Article source: Capital FM.

Can a Pregnant Woman use Chemicals on her Hair?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
15

By Maryanne W. Waweru

When I was pregnant, I was constantly bombarded with many do’s and don’ts on how to go about my pregnancy and my health, one of which had to do with hair and beauty.

I remember this time I went to the salon for a hair treatment and while there, one woman asked me why I wanted to get into the dryer, “yet you are pregnant”. She advised me against it, suggesting that I put on a black shower cap and sit under the hot sun. She said she’d heard of pregnant women who had fainted while in the dryer due to the excess heat which caused increased body temperature.

Her concerns ignited a conversation among other women at the salon –both clients and hair stylists. We all had our varied opinions on the issue, with some saying it was safe for pregnant woman to get into the dryer, while some issuing stern warnings about it. I just sat there listening to all of them. So did I get into the dryer after listening to all the scary stories?

Yes I did, because the option of sitting in the hot sun was a no-no for me. And no, I did not faint.

Can hair chemicals harm the baby?

Now, I was at the salon the other day when I heard other women discussing the same issue of pregnancy and hair care again, with debates going on about whether an expectant woman can use chemicals on her hair.

Some women said chemicals from hair products could kill the baby since they are absorbed through the woman’s skin, while others said those were just myths. And the discussion followed between all other women present in the salon, with different opinions being tossed around. It was just the same repeated conversation I’d heard when I was pregnant.

I figured it’s a topic that most women are not sure about, so I decided to seek a professional opinion about it. I had an interview with Dr. Wachira Murage, a consultant Obstetrician & Gynaecologist based in Nairobi, Kenya.

Maryanne: Is it okay for a pregnant woman to sit under a heated hair dryer while getting her hair done?

Dr. Murage: Getting inside a heated drier causes no harm to a pregnant woman. However, it is possible that she could feel drowsy and feel like passing out while in it due to excess heat or prolonged sitting. That is why she should always choose a salon that is well ventilated. It should be airy, have air conditioning, or one that has a working fan. The pregnant woman should also take some breaks in between so that she can stand and move around as she moves her toes. This helps in improving her blood circulation.

Maryanne: How about getting a hair style that requires chemicals to be applied on her hair, such as relaxers and treatments -is this safe?

Dr. Murage: It is okay for a pregnant woman to use chemicals on her hair, but they must be mercury free. This is because mercury can cause serious inborn defects in the baby. Before putting any chemical on her hair, she should be sure to check on the contents of the product to verify this.

Maryanne: What about inhaling the different chemicals found in the salon?

Dr. Murage: Inhalation should be avoided because of possible choking on the part of the expectant woman, otherwise it is harmless to the baby. This is why the salon should be well ventilated and she can from time to time take short breaks outside the salon.

Maryanne: What advice would you give any pregnant woman about her choice of salon and other best practices regarding hair care during pregnancy?

Dr. Murage: Pregnant women should settle for simple hair styles that do not require frequent visits to the salon. And just before delivery, she should avoid hairstyles with a knot at the back because they are likely to cause disturbance especially if delivery is by caesarean section.

So there you have it. I hope you are now better informed. If you are pregnant, keep looking good whatever your hairstyle!

Dr. Wachira Murage is found at Savannah Healthcare.

Mummy Tales by Maryanne W. Waweru is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER

Featured photo by George Jr Kamau from Pexels.

Irene Choge of NTV: “I’ve Mastered the Art of M-Mothering”

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
7

Irene Tapteger Choge, 29, is a journalist with NTV. She is mom to 6 year old Cheryl. In this interview with Mummy Tales, Irene talks about how she manages to balance her busy schedule as a news reporter, and motherhood.

What do you enjoy most about your job?

When I am able to give a voice to the voiceless through my stories. This is what drives me.

What is the most memorable story you’ve ever done?

The story that won me the FGM award and it was titled: ‘Dissent Over the Cut’.

I was able to tell the story of a beautiful little girl, the age of my daughter who is caught in the midst of a clash between modernity and tradition. Part of her family wants her to undergo the long-held traditional and cultural practice of FGM, while her father is strongly opposed to it. Telling her story through the experiences of other female characters was amazing. The story won me a media award last year.

Journalism includes working lengthy hours –early mornings to late nights especially when there is a breaking story. Sometimes it requires you to travel for weeks on end. Is it possible to have a successful career in journalism and still be a good mum?

Whatever your career field you are in, there is no option of being a good or bad mum. You must be a good mum, and at the same time you can still have a thriving career. Personally, I have learnt the art of M-mothering.

When I am away from my daughter, I set aside 15 minutes each evening to talk to Cheryl –just before she sleeps. I find out how her day was, find out if she has completed her homework, if she has eaten her supper and generally update each other on the day’s activities. We then, together with the housegirl take turns reading the bible and praying. We then say our goodnights. All this happens over the phone.

irene-chebet2

On days that I am around, and because I arrive home when Cheryl has already slept (her bedtime is 8pm), I call her on phone just before she sleeps and enquire about her homework and her day, and how she’s fairing generally. Even though this is the time I’m usually preparing for the 9pm bulletin, I still have to find time to talk to her and wish her a good night.

The most important thing that I remind myself is that I was a mother before I became a journalist. My bond with my daughter had already been established. And even after journalism, I’ll still be a mom. The only thing constant in my life is me and my daughter -and our relationship.

What is the longest time you’ve ever been away from your daughter?

The time I was away for two weeks, when she was five years old. During this time, I learnt the value of having good neighbors. This is because a toothpick pierced my daughter’s finger and ingrained itself deep inside. My housegirl sought the help of neighbors who immediately took Cheryl to hospital where she was treated and discharged. My neighbors took care of them throughout that episode.

How do you ensure your daughter will be okay when you travel?

I explain to both my daughter and the housegirl why and where I will be going. My daughter knows my off days and this is when we spend more time together, so if it happens that I will be away during such a time, I let her clearly know that it is because of work related duties that I have to be away.

I always shop enough and make sure they will not run out of anything while I’m away. I ensure they have everything they need (including sufficient airtime). I also make it a point to always inform my neighbors each time I travel. In addition, I have a good support network of family and friends who check on them every so often when I’m away.

How about when you are around –what is your daily routine with Cheryl like?

When Cheryl wakes up at 5.30am, I prepare her for school, making sure she is neat and presentable, and then I then sit with her as she eats her breakfast. I take this time to bond with her, as that’s the only meal we’ll have together for the day because I leave the office at 8.30pm and by the time I get home she’s already asleep. It’s also during this breakfast time that we pray together. When through with breakfast, I ensure she’s gotten onto the school bus.

I teach Sunday school at St. Luke’s ACK Tena Church and Cheryl is one of my pupils. It is during Sunday school that I am also able to gauge how she’s doing –how she learns and interacts with other girls and boys. After church, we ride the bike together or play outdoor games.

Your advice to fellow moms about housegirls?

Housegirls are part of the family. An important part of the family. Treat them as so.

What is the most important piece of advice you’ll give to your daughter?

That she should learn how to love, so that she learns to love herself. If she loves herself, then she’ll respect herself and will push herself to success and will also love other people.

Your greatest moment as a mum?

It is the time when Cheryl wrote me a letter when I had traveled out of town on assignment. I’d been away for two days when she wrote me the letter saying she missed me and she was looking forward to my return back home. Even though she has written me countless letters, there is something about that particular letter that warmed my heart. She gave me the letter immediately I arrived home. She had been keeping it under her pillow for those two days. That letter is very dear to me.

And finally, I heard you mentioning something about publishing a book someday…?

Yes I will. And the book will be about the letters Cheryl has written to me. My daughter loves writing, and I have many letters from her. I’ve kept each and every one of them and I intend to publish them one day. I’m still thinking of the title of the book. So far I have come up with two: “Letters to my Mom” and “Letters from my Daughter”. I’m yet to decide which…”

2016 update: Below are more articles on other mummy journalists I have featured on this blog.

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How I met Journalist Anne Ngugi and what she said on her daughter’s 12th birthday.

 

Makena1_pp

 

Lillian Maingi-Barasa: Salon Magazine’s editor with a passion for giving back.

 

 

Ps: This blog (Mummy Tales) has been nominated for an award in the 2016 BAKE awards – in the Best Topical Blog category. I will appreciate your support. Kindly click on this link to cast your vote (number 11 .b). Thank you for your time.

Follow Mummy Tales on Facebook (Mummy Tales)  and Twitter (@MummyTales).

Has your House Girl Made her NHIF Contributions this Month? Is it You or Her Who is Supposed to Pay?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
10

I remember sometime in December 2011, the government announced that employers had 30 days to ensure National Hospital Insurance Fund (NHIF) deductions for their house helps were made, or else face the consequences. The deadline passed on 9 January 2012.

So how’s that going for you? Has your housegirl started making these payments? Or are you making the payments for her?

I wonder how many of us, or our housegirls have complied. But perhaps most of us haven’t because we didn’t quite understand what was required; whether it is we the employer, or if it is the housegirl herself who is supposed to make the payments from her salary, how she is supposed to get a membership card, where the payments are supposed to be made, how they are supposed to be made…etcetera etcetera.

Well, I sought out some of the answers to the questions which me and fellow moms with housegirls had, and I thought to share them here for the benefit of others who may have similar queries.

Who pays the money; is it the house help (via deduction from her salary) or is it the employer (without deducting from the salary)?

Ideally, payments come from the housegirl’s salary. However, if you wish to pay for her (without deducting from her salary), you are free to do so.

How is this money remitted?

The money can be sent through MPESA on business number 200222, or paid through any Cooperative Bank, National Bank or KCB accounts. It is not possible to pay cash at the NHIF offices.

How much is the contribution per month? Can the money be paid lump sum (e.g. for a quarter of a year) or does it always have to be done on a monthly basis?

She is required to remit Ksh 160 every month. Yes, payments can be done lump sum.

In what category does she register as; salaried or self-employed?

She registers as a self-employed.

What documents does the housegirl need to be registered as an NHIF contributor?

She needs a copy of her national identity card and 1 colored passport photo. If she has children below 18 years (dependants), she is required to produce copies of their birth certificates/birth notification, and 1 colored passport photo for each child.

Where does she register?

At the nearest NHIF office.

What of housegirls who have no national identity cards? How do they get registered?

They are allowed to use their waiting slip.

Are non-Kenyan housegirls also required to remit NHIF monthly payments? E.g. those from Uganda, Tanzania etc?

Yes they are required to. As long as you are working in Kenya and are earning a minimum of Ksh 1,000 then you should remit payments. To be registered, such a person is required to produce their passport, alien certificate or work permit.

Incase you decide to make the payments for your housegirl and yet she is still on probation for the first three months (you’re still unsure if you will keep her on or not), do you still have to remit her NHIF payments during this period?

NHIF payments should be made on a monthly basis regardless of employment terms, i.e; permanent, contract or casual basis. Besides, it is important that you do so as this comes in handy incase she is taken ill during the time she is with you.

What if she is married and her spouse is making payments to NHIF, is she still required to make her own payments?

Both spouses are required to pay if they are employed. Under the law, ‘all persons resident in Kenya, over 18 years and whose total income is not less than Kshs. 1,000 in any given month are required to contribute to the Fund irrespective of whether the spouse is a contributor or not’.

How many members of her family (dependants) are covered and up to what ages?

Each person is able to cover one spouse only. To include a spouse, she is required to produce a marriage certificate, a copy of the spouses’ ID card and 1 colored passport photo of his.

Children are covered up to the age of 18 years. However, if the child is over 18 and is undertaking a full time educational course at a university, college, school or any other educational establishment, he/she can be included as a dependant. However, the contributor is required to produce evidence from the educational establishment as proof of dependence.

If one has a child with permanent disability (such as physical or mental disability), the NHIF cover is for life, though a letter from a doctor confirming the same is required as proof.

To include children as dependants, she will be required to produce colored passport photos of each child, and  their birth certificate/birth notification.

What if there is no marriage certificate? Does NHIF recognize traditional marriages?

Yes it does. However one is required to produce a sworn affidavit from the Magistrate.

Are there specific hospitals she and her dependants can access, or can they access any hospital?

She can visit any hospital accredited with NHIF.

If she falls sick, what is the process of making respective claims?

NHIF encourages use the membership card at the hospital because reimbursements are made directly to the hospital.

Is the medical cover both an In-patient and Out-patient one?

No, at the moment it is only In-patient.

If one has been a contributor for sometime and has not received an NHIF card, does it mean that such person is not properly registered?

Yes. One is only a contributor but not a member if they have not submitted a duly completed form to NHIF for processing and issuance of an NHIF card. It is the responsibility of an employer to ensure that a contributing member is registered and issued with a membership card.

How long does it take to get the membership card?

Urgent cards take 24 hours to be printed. Normal cards will take up to 14 days. A member can go to the nearest NHIF office to inquire if the card has been printed once the set deadlines have elapsed.

What is the penalty for non-remittance?

Penalty is 5 times the amount they should have paid.

By what date of each month should this money have been remitted to NHIF?

By the 9th of every month.

Where are the NHIF offices located in Nairobi?

At NHIF Building, at Devcon Building in Industrial area and at Bandari Plaza in Westlands.

There are also NHIF satellite offices in Ruaraka, Buruburu, Ongata Rongai, Kenyatta National Hospital and in Eastleigh.

For see those outside Nairobi, click here.

NB: I sourced these answers from Maureen Tinderet (Compliance Officer at NHIF), and from the NHIF website.

Is There any Shortcut to Potty Training a Boy?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

Today we have a guest writer who shares her experiences of trying to potty train her 2 year old boy. A mother of two, Santina Nyagah offers insights into the differences between potty training a girl and potty training a boy. Read her story below.

“On the 1 st day of September 2009, I became a mother for the second time. I delivered a handsome little boy who goes by the name Jeremy, but whom I fondly call Energizer Bunny.

He is literally like the energizer bunny that never runs out and most of the time I can be seen running after him because he is either hanging from window grills, running outside our house butt naked, sending anything he gets his hands on flying to the ground (plates, phones, remote control etc).

Now you may think my house is a battle zone but that’s only a quarter of the time, for the rest of the time has me rolling on the floor in laughter as I try to understand this boy.

And one of the things that I am still puzzling over is how to get him to potty train ASAP.

My reason for saying this is that he seems to have taken longer than his sister to do so. It’s important to note that at this moment, diapers have risen by more than Ksh 300 per pack.

So having him potty trained will definitely go a great way towards easing my household budget.

For starters, I got a colorful potty, bought him some nice training pants and we were ready to go.

A journey that I thought would take a month or at most 2 months has not ended it is still ongoing.

Where is my patience…?

The first time I taught him how to pee, I decided to do it girl style.

He got excited about seeing his own pee in the potty and he would run and sit on it every 15 minutes even if there was nothing coming out.

But soon he got bored.

And he was back in diapers.

And I was frustrated.

(There is that word again…..patience)

So I did some research and found out that sometimes boys do take longer to get potty trained than girls.

It is then I realized I was trying too hard to be the perfect mum with a perfectly trained son and that I had to ease up on him and let him be.

I had to be …..patient

He would get ready to use his potty in his own time, not when I forced him to do it

Like my very wonderful obstetrician had told me when I was pregnant; “Each child, just like each pregnancy, is different.”

While I loved githeri while carrying my daughter and could not stand meat, with my son I had to have nyama choma and ice cream or else the world would come to an end.

While my daughter walked on her own for the first time when she turned one year, my son took his first steps at 15 months.

Each child is different.

Each child needs patience

I realized most of the frustration I felt about potty training my son was because I expected him to be like his sister.

Yet he was different. He was teaching me patience, I realized

The more frustrated, the less patient I got with him.

Jeremy is now back to wearing diapers and we are taking it one step at a time.

Sometimes he uses his potty at other times he misses it and I have to run for a mop and get rid of his tell tale signs on my floor.

But at least I am not pulling out my hair in frustration.

A few days ago he even started peeing standing up like a boy and I was quite excited.

See that virtue called patience worked.

Life as a mother is a learning curve that never plateaus and with each child you learn more but you still discovers so much more you never knew.

And one of the things I am learning is to be patient….”

Do you have any tips you can give our guest writer, or any experiences you had potty training your boy or girl that you can share with her and other moms? Feel free to do so in the comments section of this post.

Editor’s note: Santina is a nutritionist with her own recipe blog which she refers to as ‘The Culinary Adventures of a Very Cool Kenyan Mum!’

If you have any motherhood experiences and which you wouldn’t mind sharing with fellow moms, you can email me on maryanne@mummytales.com for more details.

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My High School Reunion (State House Girls)

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
3

Sometime last month, I attended my high school reunion. Actually it was more like a get-together.

I had decided long before that I would attend this get-together because lately, I’ve come to realize the value of staying in touch with old friends. Especially the ones who we grew up with –the friends we had as toddlers and in our early childhood, in our pre-teen days, during puberty and adolescence (I forget –are these two the same thing?) during teenagehood and into our early twenties when we were blossoming into the beautiful ladies we are today. The friendships established during those days have over the years proven to be invaluable. I attended this get-together because I wanted to catch up with former classmates whom I hadn’t seen in over a decade and a half. And some who I hadn’t seen in as many years. Some who I hadn’t seen in months. And some like Irene Were who I see every so often.

We met for a late lunch and it was a good five or so hours spent, remembering our good old days of fighting for plates (why oh why hadn’t the school developed a better system for this?), cooks and their drama (Malova), the school driver and his arrogant stunts making us sprint after the bus and hang onto it’s door just like matatu touts (Mjomba) remembering the school matron (who still owes some ladies their pocket money which they used to give her for safekeepingJ), good ol’ nurse Jane, Aunty the photographer, chief and his pontos, the sale of Britania bikiz for school clubs, dipping crisps in tomato sauce, prefects who would make us shit in our pants (Jean Waithaka, Brenda Amisi et.al)….and ofcourse the ever terrifying deputy headmistress Ika2. I hope wherever Ika2 is she has learnt how to smile and not have that stoneface of hers that used to make our goose pimples stand in attention. We had good laughs as we remembered the punishments we did and mused over the naughty stuff we did and our numerous incidents of truancy.

We also took a moment to remember those who have already left us –RIP Donna Otambo.

But most importantly, we shared life’s lessons. We’ve matured because we were able to candidly talk about how our lives have been, the mistakes we’ve made and the successes we’ve achieved –both in our personal lives and in our careers. The honesty with which we discussed our lives, our relationships, our children and our futures was a reflection of how much we’ve grown. Some narrations were heart-rending, some were amusing, some made me ponder deeply. But their common denominator was that in life, we deal with whatever comes our way and we move on –making the best of every situation.

Something that stood out from our get together is that our personalities never change. Years may pass and life can toss us in all directions, but our personalities remain the same.

I noticed that those who used to be reserved and quiet in high school are still the same today. The ones who were chatterboxes ni wale wale. The ones who used to entertain us with their humorous tales are still the same. Reminds me of the African proverb that says “When rain beats on a leopard it wets it, but rain does not wash out its spots.”

 

 

 

 

 

My take is that if your school ever organizes a reunion, make time to attend it. The close friendships established during high school are lifelong –and genuine if you ask me. Evidently so because I’ve noticed that almost all my pals who’ve gotten married have had their former high school mates as their best maids or in their lineup. I am no exception, as I had Irene Kimani as my bestmaid, with Irene Were as one of my maids. And then Nancy Lwosi was my MC and I must say she did a fantastic job –throwing in a few high school memories and jabs at me as she MCeed the wedding. Friends that I met in high school and with whom we’ve maintained very close bonds with. And not forgetting Emily Kinuthia (nee Kawinzi) who forms part of my girl crew.

 

Meanwhile, congrats to Charity Munene (who coincidentally was my classmate right from Pre-unit in Nairobi Primary School all through to form 4 in Stato) on the birth of her lovely princess –born on the same day we were having the reunion.

And thank you Myra Mukulu for your tireless efforts in making the reunion happen. Hope to see more of us in this year’s gathering.

Cheers.

Here’s My New Year’s Resolution

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
6

How’s your new year coming along? It’s good? Hope it continues that way all year long.

Mine is just fine, I’m still on holiday so mambo vipi? Mambo sawa.

So this morning as we were having breakfast with Kitty’s dad I asked him if he had made any New Year’s resolutions and if yes, would he mind sharing them?

He responded by saying he never makes any New Years’ resolutions.

“If you decide to do something then just do it, you don’t need a special day for you to make resolutions”.

That was an anticlimax response, not quite what I was expecting but then again, it kinda made sense.

Then there was a long pregnant pause and I kept looking at him, waiting. I was waiting expectantly, my eyes fixated on him. Then I waited some more.

Finally he spoke, the pregnant silence and expectant waiting having lasted about 5 seconds.

Him: Have you made any resolutions yourself?

Me: YES! I thought you’d never ask!

Another long pregnant pause.

Okay now I was getting frustrated. Couldn’t he just ask me what my resolutions were already?

Finally he spoke.

Him: And…..

Me: (very excitedly) my resolution this year is to hold a bash for Kitty on his first birthday.

Him: (with a duh! look) That is NOT a resolution.

Me: (confused) it’s not?

Him: Shaking his head and proceeding to bite into his slice of bread.

Me: Oh well, atleast I tried…

Him: Babes si you’re a joker….

Me: Grinning sheepishly

Him: Smiling

Anyway, the reason I tried to make Kitty’s birthday party as a resolution is that I have been unsuccessful, in previous years, in my attempts to stick to any New Year resolutions. Some of which included:

  • I will only eat chips and quarter (fried kuku) from a fast food restaurant once every four months. Now honestly, is that even possible? Especially if you work in Nairobi’s CBD? I achieved 0% success on that one.
  • To stay in shape and keep fit, I vowed to hit the gym for some serious workouts no less than 4 times a week. I made that resolution in 2008 and four years later, I’ve still never set foot inside a gym. Once again, I achieved 0% success on that one.
  • That I would go to church every Sunday without fail. I achieved about 50% success on that one.
  • There’s a year I made the resolution to thoroughly enjoy myself that year –on my last lap as a twenty something year old (mkondo wa mwisho). May I say that I achieved 150% success on that one?
  • And so on and so forth.

I guess I wasn’t successful because of two main reasons:

One, that they were unrealistic –for my kind of lifestyle that is and two, I just wasn’t committed enough and that’s why I kept making excuses.

So this year, it feels better disguising my resolutions as ‘Things I intend to do in 2012’ and holding Kitty’s first birthday party is top on that list (you know –the parties where the parents have all the fun, it’s all about the parents and their friends and it’s NEVER about the child).

Photo: hoboken411.com

So what about you? Have you made any New Year’s resolutions? How’s the going so far? You think you’ll succeed? Or have you failed or worse, quit in one or two already?

Remembering Christmas When I Was a Kid

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
8

This is my first Christmas as a mom. No doubt I’m quite excited, and grateful to God for bestowing me this blessing.

And, it’s got me remembering my Christmas’s as a young girl.

Christmas when I was a kid used to begin quite early. About a week before 25th, I remember my two brothers and I would humbly approach my mum and ask her for permission to decorate the house with ‘Christmas decorations’. Ofcourse, being the youngest, I used to be the one to do the actual asking. And when permission was granted, my brothers would happily scamper outside on a scavenge mission for Christmas trees –which meant haphazardly pruning down neighbors overgrown fig trees. Then we would decorate the tree with those mushaino shainos, balloons, Christmas tree lights and Christmas cards the family had received. We would then hang the paper decorations and baloons all around the sitting room wall (but careful not to interfere with mum’s money-maker plant located at the corner of the house (every house had those ones, right?).

And all week long, we would feel so good waiting for the actual day. I donno about you, but we would find it very difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve as the excitement would be all too much. On Christmas Eve, mum would allow us to sleep at whatever time our weary little bodies would shut down. We would spend it beating stories, singing Christmas carols and marvelling at the (now half withered) Christmas tree.

Christmas carols

Then come Christmas morning -a day that I always thought would never arrive! Especially because it meant that I would get to wear my new dress. Oh the anticipated joy! And it was always a dress that my mum had sewn for me. For some reason, she never preferred to buy me a
ready-made dress, but instead she always chose to personally tailor one for me. She would begin taking my measurements weeks before Christmas, and then during her off days from work, patiently sew it piece by piece. My most memorable dress was a polka dotted blue dress she made for me. I always wondered why she would spend all that time sewing a dress while it was so much easier to buy one. But now I think I do. Taking time to personally stitch something for your child is so precious. During my free moments as a mom, I’ll be knitting cardigans for Kitty –even if it’ll take me a year to complete one.

And as we prepared for church on Christmas day, mum would play Jim Reeve’s songs on the radio, and we would sing along making the Christmas spirit all so nice. And then the family would walk to church. Dad, mum, sister, two brothers and I. I remember the feeling of
walking around in a new dress all too well. The walk to church always made me feel like a little princess, more so because my mum would have held up my hair in a ponytail (with a new hairband), then added onto my ears white clip-on plastic earrings (oh yes!). On that day, she would also have allowed me to use her sophisticated body lotion, Lady Gay. Now add on the white pumps, and I felt indomitable as I sashayed my way into St. Phillips ACK Church Jericho.

Once inside the church, the Waweru  brood would sit at around the fourth or fifth pew from the front. It’s as though families had ‘specific’ seating spots. Ours was the fourth or fifth row, right behind the Otiende’s.

Upon our return home, mum would prepare a sumptuous meal of pilau, chapatis and kuku kienyeji and other delicacies.

After lunch, my brothers and I would then jitokelezea outside alongside other neighborhood kids, me with every intent of displaying my new dresses to them, and they in turn with the same exact specific intent as mine. The boys never bothered about new clothes as they were more focused on playing the football game of  ‘one touch’.

And as the sun set, none of us ever wanted to believe the day was over. The one day we had been looking forward to all year was gone –just like that.

Anyway, that was how Christmas was marked as a kid. But today I’m all growned up and it’s my time to start making Christmas memorable for my family, and specifically Kitty. So what will I do for Kitty on this his first Christmas? I’m still trying to think.

And as I do so, I wish you a merry Christmas and a blessed 2012.

When my Girlfriends Visited Kitty

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
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2

Last Monday, it being a public holiday, my girl crew decided to pay Kitty and I a visit.

Now, I know every woman has a girl crew, but my girlfriends are just the best. We’re a group of 9 of us, all having met in campus almost a decade and a half ago. When we were fresh-faced innocent teenagers, and we’ve been together through the years, till today when we’re fresh-faced hot funky young women (did you just say a big ’HA’!’?).

We’ve been there for each other through all the ups and downs that characterize the life of many a young woman, and I’m glad to have been surrounded by such lovely women all through the years. And these ladies are full of so much humor and (positive) drama you wouldn’t believe it. Anyone who knows us knows exactly what I’m talking about.

We call ourselves the ‘mkondo wa mwisho mamaz’, and the genesis of that name is a story for another day, a story I will be sure to tell you someday. But the year 2008 has just got to be the most memorable year for us, the year when we literally painted Nairobi (and Mombasa) towns red, we had so much fun together I tell you we were intoxicated by barrels and barrels of the full mwenjoyo.

We also refer ourselves as wanamaresh, and that, dear friends, is a whole different story for yet another day. But it has all do with one crazy ssenga called Aunty Najjat. I’m sure a couple of you have heard about her. Or encountered her. I don’t know if she still operates in this Nairobi as an invited guest to bridal showers, but we had the most dramatic encounter with her in 2008. She a crazy woman that one is I assure you.

Anyway, we spent Monday afternoon together at mine, and one thing is always certain during such times. The stories told usually flow one after another and with such speed, comparable only to a furious waterfall.

Our tales are usually too many, too hilarious and too entertaining. Many of them true, many of them fake, and many of them well…just stories. There are those among us who have the gift of garb and the gift of entertainment. While there are those of us who just enjoy sitting back, listening and laughing it all. And then there are those of us who restore sanity in the group. We’re a mix of different personalities, making us all a perfect blend.

Have a look at some photos from Monday, a day very well spent. (Clearly you can see I’m not a good photographer like Baba Kitty).

I love you girls and thanks -for everything,

Meanwhile, there will be a reunion for State House Girls class of 96′ tomorrow at Carnivore at 3pm, coordinated by Myra Mukulu. Mimi, nitakuwepo. Je wewe?

And to plagiarize Jeff Koinange, ‘SPREAD THE WORD’ because it will be SMMMMMOOKIN! Aaiihhh Jeff na yeye surely!

Remembering the Day I got Stuck in Traffic

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
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8

The other day, I had the misfortune of being stuck in traffic for about 3.5 hours while headed home from work. A journey that usually takes me no more than half an hour this time took 3.5 hours.

I was at Uhuru Highway, and for the better part of the 3.5 hours, I was between that Intercontinental junction and that junction that leads to parliament. A stretch of about 100 meters. I don’t know why we were stuck in traffic for that long. So anyway as I was sitting there in traffic, my chest was full as I have a certain schedule as to when I should express or breastfeed. It was way past my scheduled expressing time, so I kept worrying that by the time I got home, my breastmilk would have converted to yoghurt.

But the yoghurt issue was not my major worry. What was causing me untold agony was the fact that I was forced to do something that I never like doing while in traffic. Something that causes me total mental anguish. And that is turning off my engine. Oh, how I dread doing so!

Now, common fuel-saving sense dictates that one turns off the engine when the car is not in motion, such as when traffic is at a standstill. And I know that. I don’t dispute it at all.

But one of the worst fears I have is that of the engine refusing to turn on again when the traffic starts moving. Oh my, the nightmarish feeling that it gives me? Wacha tu! I’m a woman, and the possibility of such an incident usually scares the living chickens out of me.

Usually how it happens is that I refuse to turn off the engine even when I’ve not moved an inch for 10 minutes, all the while cursing why we’re not moving because it might just force me to turn off the engine because  my fuel will run out. And the mere thought of me running out of fuel is even more scarier, so when that thought crosses my mind, I instantly turn off the engine -only for me to realize that all the while my car was the only one whose engine was still running.

And now with the engine off and bored with my own company, the radio becomes my savior. And I enjoy the music until the time I spot, from a far distance some motion ahead of me, meaning the traffic has began moving. And so I sit up and start interceding and praying for God’s mercies upon my life, asking him to please make my engine start.

I remember one time I was happily enjoying the Sundowner show on KBC hosted by John Obongo Jnr when traffic started moving. So when I turned on the ignition, all I heard was a clicking sound. A weak click. The engine was dead. As dead as a dodo, whatever a dodo is.

Please Jesus, this just cannot be, I thought, as my heart went into full panic mode. The time was around 6.45pm and I was over there near University way roundabout. With my palms now all sweaty and my hands shivering, I tried to turn on the engine again, but it was the same clicking sound. I even tried to dance around in my seat, hoping that my shaking movements would reawaken the engine. But nothing.

Meanwhile, the drivers behind me were hooting endlessly. Which was not good because they were making me more confused and distracting me from trying to focus on my prayers and my engine trouble. I exerted all my mental energies into the engine, and began chanting:
“engine please start, engine please start, engine please start….but nothing doing.

I was scared stiff, confused, sad, heartbroken and just basically devastated. My eyes were almost tearing from my state of helplessness. And other motorists passing by and saying; “madam ondoa jam” were not helping ne much. Others were saying: “madam just push the car aside” as they passed me before speeding away. Aki si people can be insensitive sometimes? Now how do I push the car aside –alone? Surely!

Since I was near the roundabout, I saw a cop hastily coming towards me with his hands animated in the air bellowing “ni nani  analeta jam hapa?” God, I almost cried because I thought Mr. Policeman was going to yell at me or beat me.

But one look at my teary eyes and the completely helpless state of this damsel in distress made his toughness instantly melt away -just like ice on fire.

Mr. Policeman hurriedly mobilized a few passers by to help push the car as I jump started it. Thank God the car was a manual. Problem was I didn’t know how to jump start it because I understand you have to be at a certain gear to do so. But not to worry because Mr. Policeman  quickly told me to get out of the car, he jumped inside it and ordered the passers by to push the car while he jump started it (I don’t even know if cops are allowed to do so). And as he did so, he told me: “sasa wewe control traffic.”

Hahaha, he was a cop with a funny bone that one. Imagine me controlling traffic at the University way roundabout!

Within seconds, my engine was up and running, and off to go I was ready. The happiness I felt could only be compared to what I felt when I completed my last paper in Form 4. I was so pleased with Mr. Policeman, I wanted to plant a kiss on his cheek. But public decorum prevailed so I restrained myself.

And then in this new Kenya of ours, nowadays we don’t offer bribes, but because I really wanted to show my appreciation to the cop by not buying him chai (because chai is a bribe), I told him that I wanted to buy him airtime (because airtime is a sign of appreciation).

But he declined my offer, telling me that he was helping me because he goes by the ‘utumishi kwa wote’ moto of the police force. Aaaawwww, aint that just so sweet?

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