Quarter to 3.

It’s quarter to 3AM.

I’m restless, I can’t fall asleep though I am completely exhausted. My flesh is droopy, my bones are like lead, my soul is tortured, my brain is overworked.

I call you and ask; You know what I need? I need to escape this exhausion. I need to fly away.

Meet me on the roof when the clock strikes three. Bring a joint, I’ll bring the lighter.

Allow me to bare my soul for a moment so you can pick your way through the thorns and find the root cause of all this misery inside of me.

Allow me to unload my thoughts on you so you can sift through the muck and run around in the labyrinth that is my head and make sense of everything.

Is it just me and this weed or are you always this beautiful?

Will you lay beside me tonight? I don’t want to be alone in the dark with my thoughts. Not tonight.

Hold me through the night, help me rest my body. Maybe with you by my side I can finally sleep, I can finally dream. I can forget all that’s bearing me down just for one night.

You sit there quietly and listen to all my crazy ramblings. From where I sit, your halo is blinding me.

You spread your wings, take me into your arms and we fly up into the starry sky. We fly higher and higher. We are so high up I feel larger than life and my troubles become nonexistent.


A doctor, a Sunday night and a very random story.

If this isn't me😂

I hate hospitals. I hate pills. I hate(I’m terrified of) injections😭 I like funny doctors though, like actual funny ones who make you laugh and forget you’re nervous and terrified that he’ll give you an injection on the butt and make you cry like a little girl.

Doctors who don’t even try to be funny. They do it effortlessy (also, they probably do stand up comedy in a dingy bar on Sunday nights and draw out a big crowd of people in their forties going through mid-life crises). Those are my favourite kind of doctors.

Lately I’ve been falling ill often. Bacteria and viruses just won’t let me rest. So I’m sitting in the waiting room of my school Health Unit on a Sunday night waiting for the doctor.

Mosquitoes too aren’t letting me rest. They’re feasting on my legs😢

I’m hoping this doctor is one of them. He just walked in and he has a potbelly and a mustache. That’s a good sign, right? I think that kitambi backs up my theory of him going to dingy bars on Sunday nights. He looks like a beer guy. Beer guys are funny, right?

He just called me in. But he pronunced my name as ‘Teiii” like tei for pombe. Yaani he’s in such a hurry to go out to that bar and meet his people that he sees my name as pombe.

He leaves me in his office for a moment. More mosquitoes. His stethoscope is on the table ptactically just begging me to pick it up and check my heartbeat but I decide not to because my reflexes are slow at the moment and he will definitely catch me. I’m not ready to explain myself out of a situation like that.

I was so tempted to ask him, “So, do you ever do stand up?” But I restrain myself. Let him take his time. Good comedy takes time. His office is so dull.

There’s a bible on his shelf. It looks sooo new and unopened. So he doesn’t read the Bible either? I was really looking forward to the ‘Moses jokes’😣

He gets back and diagnoses me. I have to go to the lab to get a blood test.

Aki this guy wasn’t funny😢 His kitambi and mustache are all hype and no show. His wife should make him go to the gym and shave that mustache. What a dissappointment!

Okay, honestly, I am scared. Bloodtests equal injections. The guy who is taking my blood is flirting with me or trying to. What’s wrong with him??? I am sick and nervous and he wants to know why he never sees me around? First of all, just cut to the chase and take my blood. Second, he was probably making small talk, which I still hate, because I looked terrified.

He takes my blood, I wince a little then I wait for a while for the results. He sends me back to the doctor.

“So whats wrong with me doc?”

“Malaria.” Thats all he says, no mosquito jokes, no nothing. He prescribes me pills to pick up at the pharmacy.

I can’t hold it in anymore, I have to ask him.

“So, are you a beer guy?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is beer your prefered drink?”

He looks at me skeptically, laughs and says yes.

Great. There is still hope for him. Maybe he is going through a comedian’s block. You know? Like a writer’s block for comedians. I totally made that up. A dryspell. Did I just say that?😂😂😂

My mother, the herbalist.

Remember my post on taking stock last week? When I said I was smelling herbs? ( http://wp.me/p6VeO2-76 ) Well, it is getting pretty serious around here. My mum has brought home the big guns.

 I have been sick for a while now and my medication is not working. She just got frustrated one morning and I heard her on the phone.

“Her meds aren’t working. I think you’ll have to come in and check it yourself.”

(Person on the other side.)

“Yeah, kuja you see her, hizi dawa za wazungu pia huwa useless sometimes. I think ni vuindi.

(Person on the other side.)

She nods vigorously and hangs up.

“Who was that kwani?” I asked.

“I called my friend Harbert to come check you out. He’s an herbal doctor.” My mum is a big believer of natural remedies provided directly by Mother Nature.

So Harbert came home on Monday and checked me out. 

They discuss the diagnosis in luhya, which is pretty rude if you ask me because they think I don’t understand luhya. I’m the bloody patient so the least Harbert could do is address me personally. As you can tell, I was a little pissed. I’ll translate it.

“What do you think? Is it  vuindi ?”

“No. But I’ve seen this before. It’s not serious. Itaisha tu once you get her the herbs.”

My mum sighs with relief, not because the good doctor has said my case is treatable but because he said it is not vuindi.

Okay. Vuindi is this luhya thing, like a sort of witchcraft. Someone looks at you and “throws you sickness” to translate it directly. These things are real you guys, haha. Suddenly you can’t eat because your throat hurts or you start limping or something funny just happens to you. This is why I don’t like going upcountry sometimes. But there’s herbs to prevent this.

Anyway, my mum is told which herbs to get for me. She returns in the evening with so many plants, she looks like she uprooted an entire bush. There are little berries, purple roots, I swear there is one that looks like weeds we learnt about in Class Four Science. She tells me to wash them and pound them in a mortar.

“And then what?”

“You are to drink it and apply it around your neck twice a day.”

“Ha! I’m not drinking this stuff. These berries could be poisonous. What’s this purple stuff ata?” I say with a ddisgusted face.

“Nothing here is poisonous. My grandmother used to use these. You will drink it upende usipende. I didn’t look like a crazy lady picking plants by the roadside for you to refuse to drink this.”

So now I’m drinking this dark green concoction I thought I would have to drink with a bucket nearby in case I vomit but it’s surprisingly not bitter. It’s not kali at all. It’s just….unusual.

When I apply it on my neck, especially at night, I end up smelling like backed potatoes. I’m dreaming of potatoes too a lot lately. Could it be the herbs’ side effects? Ha, just kidding! It was only once😂
Ps: Mother’s day is this Sunday by the way. May 14th♥

Conversations with my alter ego.

What you’re about to read is sort of an interview. A dialogue. A conversation between my alter ego(Queer) and I(Tess). It is just a page from my weird imagination in an attempt to know what happiness really is. If you get confused, don’t worry, it happens to many people when they try to decipher a way through the maze in my head☺
T: What is happiness to you?

Q: Happiness? 

Um, wearing a clean bra☺

Being gifted happy socks on any occasion, blisssss.

Eating ugali and omena and it’s not even my birthday, wtf ily!

T: Let’s be realistic here for a moment.

Q: And what’s nonrealistic about hygiene and multicolored socks and favorite meals? They seem pretty real to me.

T: Okay then. What “psychological” things make you happy?

Q: What’s with the air quotes? Well, not constantly over thinking about stuff would make me happy.

T: So you’re saying you are an over thinker?

Q: No. You’re the over thinker. I like to sit in the background, pour myself a glass of sangria and watch the proceedings. You can be quite a skeptic sometimes.

T: Back to the happiness bit. What makes you happy that isn’t vanity?

Q: Well when you put it that way…hmm.

I would say the little things in life really. A great panorama, moments I’m alone with my thoughts and we’re not over thinking, deep conversations with people ow, like that guy you like, what’s his name?

T: We can’t say that here!

Q: Oh shit! My apologies. But why not Tess? A blog’s purpose is self expression, isn’t it?

T: It is but that’s not why we’re here. And nobody cares about stuff like that Queer. You were saying?

Q: Ah yes. Being somewhere with my people, kicking it, listening to some great music, discussing our big dreams and sharing plans for megalomania. That makes me happy. 

Living in the moment, you know? Cuddling. Taking long reflective walks. When I write something awesome, that feeling is everything Tess.

T: Who are “your people”?

Q: Again with the air quotes…Weirdos like me are my people.

Also “non-weirdos” who get me. That’s how to properly use air quotes BTW.

T: What about family?

Q: What about them?

T: How do you relate happiness with family?

Q: If my mum is happy, I’m happy. If my family is happy, then I’m happy.

T: So what is happiness to you?

Q: Um, happiness is not one thing Tess. I can’t put one thing in a box and label it happiness. That’s just sad. Happiness is many different things which can only be put in a large space where it is free to burst out into different colors, bounce off walls, hang from the light bulb, play with the light switch, bang the doors, break some windows, draw on the white walls with crayons, rearrange the furniture, sing out loud, cry like a baby, stare in awe, wave frantically out the window at passers-by, do some cartwheels, run around in circles and sit down peacefully. That’s just it. It’s many things,some of which we have never heard of in our entire lives. Happiness to me is many things. You get?

T: Um.Wow. If I didn’t know better, I would say you just described a crazy person in an asylum. 

Q: I’m glad you know better Tess. So what about you? What is happiness to you?

T: Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. We are the same person after all ,aren’t we?

Q: I like it when we’re on the same page☺

(Q-Queer. T-Tess.) Why I have an alter ego is a story for another day. What is happiness to you though? Let me know in the comments.

Nice weekend peeps✌