Ifehenia's blog

Jodi Picoult is one of my favourite writers ever. I am learning how to tame my youthful exuberance and someone I know pointed out to me that if I claim that something is the best thing ever, I can't then go on and give that title to five or so more things. Adulting is difficult! All these rules. I will, therefore, refrain from calling Jodi 'my favourite writer ever' and add the prefix 'one of'. From experience, I know how crafty Jodi can get. She will get you to care; to invest your feelings in the characters that she weaves around your heart and soul. You will prefer to have coffee with the suspected pedophile from Salem Falls , instead of paying attention to your date. You will get out of your Friday night plans by washing your hair when the real reason is that you can't let that sad, little girl in   Leaving Time spend a Friday night alone. She is all you have You are all she has! I know Jodi and I have been working on building up my defences. I start re...

Recently I surprised a friend of mine with the knowledge that Beyonce is not only married, but now has a daughter (who she named for me... not that you will believe me). It is amazing really, how removed from culture some people can be! I can't judge him too harshly. You see, I just now watched Pretty Woman. And, by Jove (high school English has to be put into some use!), it may just have trumped 'My Sassy Girl' to get the coveted spot as my favorite romantic comedy of all time.  This outfit! Admit it, it gives you ideas for the next Halloween..  I have heard the fairy tale, but watching it still blew my mind away. To think that the original script was a cautionary tale on the vagaries of drugs and prostitution. It was written for a film called '3000' that would have ended in Julia Roberts getting kicked to the curb and having money thrown at her. Kind of what would happen in REAL life! Instead romantic comedy came of age then. I have maintained that t...

Those who get my weird... and are on my wavelength. I have been asked to stop claiming my social awkwardness. I have been told that I am not a misfit. I have been convinced into embracing this improved version of myself that has evolved into a social animal. After all, I can make people laugh and I have a supposedly charming smile! This doesn't sit well with me. Not entirely. You see, now that I cannot blame it on inborn social awkwardness, what can I attribute some of my quirks to? I am a paradox socially. I can talk for hours but still remain withdrawn. I can love you deeply and not be there for you when you need it the most. I am a great texter (amazing content and good grammar) while managing to be a terrible communicator. I will braid you hair and share my food but will not take you shopping or be your 'wing woman'. I will vet your significant other and ask them all the hard questions but I will not be friends with them. This paradox makes me a great friend. Y...

At work we have this thing where every Monday morning we give 'reasons to dance'. Everyone is supposed to share something good that is going on in their life... and being a Monday morning, the most common response is usually, "I had a great weekend." This week though, my reason to dance was Mashujaa Day. With only one other Kenyan in the room, this was met with blank stares. I don't consider myself terribly patriotic. Heck, most of the time I do not consciously identify as Kenya. I am Ivy, simple. However, of late I have been increasingly thinking of myself as a Kenyan. This is probably because I have been confronted with my Kenyan-ness. My Kenyan accent, my Kenyan aggressiveness, my (Kenyan?) hairstyle. I am proud to belong to this unique country, whose strong population finds a way to survive despite everything. I know that there is a lot to be ashamed of: a government that has miraculously managed to undo years of economic development; blatant corruption; c...

I feel, and have always felt so-so about online dating. It could very easily go either way. I know we millennials, with our 5 minute noodles and instant coffee, are supposed to prefer the convenient world of online dating but surprisingly, I do not. It may have something to do with my old soul. I still think that The One is more often than not met at a party, in a coffee shop or a cute little bookstore. My problem with online dating is that the person, more often that not, will not look like their pictures. While they may be still be funny in person, their voice won't be that deep, husky baritone that you hear in your mind when you read their messages. They will definitely be shorter than you expect! Better the devil you know can see . Once in while, however, I am proved wrong. Of late I have been feeling the need to move on from Kyle. It's been a great 5 years but I am learning how to let go. We've been through a lot, Kyle and I. He's stuck around longer ...

Can I begin by sharing the minor discovery that everyone celebrating their birthday around this time was conceived on New Year's Eve? Let that sink in. These Virgos... Happy Birthday to my beautiful best friend, on that note. My roommate and I discovered this cute little coffee shop near where we work. I love cute, little coffee shops. Those and book stores would be the ideal place to meet The One. There about 10 or so tables, the Mocha is amazing and cheaper than most other places, and the barista/waiter/owner does not hover. Because we are young and poor, we have to walk along this deserted road to get there. Our youth and poverty has been the reason behind some fun adventures. The first time we walked there, we ran into two men in a black Range, packed outside a house with an ominous, black gate. One of them called out to us to stop and come closer. At this point I had been in Kampala for about 2 months and was beginning to let my guard down. Assuming that they were lost, I ...

I feel as if it has been a while since I shared completely random thoughts here! My past few posts have been too cool  and collected. In case you were wondering, I have still been having random thoughts! I dashed into Nairobi two days ago... just in time to catch a bit of Obama fever. I am still on the road to recovery. Man, that man can speak! I passed by my favourite bookseller and didn't stop to buy anything. It took a tremendous amount of will power and I am still shivering from the withdrawal symptoms. I'd like to think I haven't gotten this bad though! Speaking of willpower, do y'all remember this  post on my borderline psychotic behaviour when I have a crush on someone? Well, two years later I am no better. If anything I have refined my stalker game and can now get the full 411 in 12 hours and be over the unlucky guy in 24. *Sigh* I am growing too old for this! I once vulnerably (and stupidly!) shared, over dinner, how I have a crush on a certain tall, ...

If you love TED talks, you would love the Launchpad . Let me first put this in a context. I have been enjoying an unreasonable 2 1/2 weeks with another 2 1/2 weeks to go. It has been like a fun summer camp... or what I would imagine a fun summer camp would be like, seeing as I have never experienced a summer, let alone camp. Spending time with entrepreneurs from 10 social enterprises has proven to me that entrepreneurs are crazy. They are the most fun, most idealistic and most hard-working group of people anywhere. These are people who are daring to execute their crazy dreams... and that blows my mind. I am a huge believer in the solutions to Africa's societal problems lying in the hands and minds of small and mid sized businesses. Hundreds sprout up each year and most are driven by innovative solutions to massive problems. Honestly speaking, if each of these businesses successfully scaled we would probably have solved famine, illiteracy, lack of financial inclusion, high child...

I have a well-founded fear of motorbikes. Add that my fear of heights, small spaces and life sized stuffed animals and you can see why my life is one exhilarating experience! I have no need for extreme sports when I can walk along the streets of Kampala and get that same Adrenalin rush. Come to think of it, why would any African indulge in extreme sports? We are already living in the edge as it is… Fear of bikes aside, earlier in the week I took a boda to work and almost died because of my name. My friend and I were actually waiting for a matatu but this boda guy stopped in front of us and promised to charge us the same as a matatu would have. Since there was a bit of traffic and I really needed to get on with slaying some dragons, I decided to hop on. Being the friendly Ugandan he is, the boda guy asked our names as we rode off into the sunrise (somehow that doesn’t quite sound right… sunrise). My friend gave him hers and he said it back, as if to test it out on his tongue. I...

Today as I walked to work I was musing about my skinny arms and how they rightly describe my physical strength. It got me to wondering how I will ever manage motherhood with such feeble arms. Even holding infants tires me after a while. I have this theory that motherhood equips you with super powers. The moment you push that baby out, there is a glowing light that only you can see and the motherhood fairy blasts you with her wand, making you invincible. From then on, you acquire super human physical strength. Your baggage:body weight ratio can now exceed an ant's. Physical ailments can't hold you down any more. You lose all sense of gullibility and can suddenly see through all the BS. Suddenly you have an ability to see the best in this one human being no matter what the rest of the world sees. The basis of this theory is my mother. She is the strongest person I know, both physically and emotionally. My mum can lift a 90 kg bag of maize flour that would leave many young men...

Fun || Paramore Funny how they call it the pearl of Africa when there are no street lights. Aren't pearls supposed to be brilliant? Don’t mind me, I am not in the best mood at the moment. I have to get down to writing some reports for work… and I am actually glad for the chance to put all my concentration into that and not have to think about anything else. I’ll probably be able to push that into the better part of the weekend. And when that is done I can pour my heart and soul into cooking and making small meals for next week. I can also clean compulsively. Unfortunately, I braided my hair on Wednesday so I can’t turn the next idle day into wash day. What I am trying to put across is how mundane my life can be. Strangely enough, 12 hours ago my life seemed pretty great and interesting and I couldn't wait for the weekend to begin. I had almost forgotten how that one person has the power to turn my most exciting day into another grey one using a simple statement, “Sorry...

*sigh* picture courtesy of wamathai.com I have been having a great time settling into Kampala, though I suspect that the side of town I live, work and hang out at has a lot to do this. All the same, to give the devil his due, Kampala has been good to me. Before I go on I have to mention that since leaving my favourite radio stations in Nairobi, I while away my days streaming music online. I am currently listening to songs from the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. That said, I hope my current emotional state doesn't seep into this post. Last week I felt comfortable enough to go somewhere on my own. A shopping center like place near town called Wandegeya to access my ATM (ain't nobody got time for Mastercard charges!). My main worry was how I'd tell the conductor to stop when I got there. I still haven't gotten the hang of pronouncing long multi-syllable words without pauses. Try pronouncing Wandegeya... or Kembabazi in a single breath! I kept mouthing 'masao...

Hello World, I feel as if it has been so long since I blogged that I should start afresh. To be honest I haven't been busy all along... but the past couple of weeks have been busy. I moved to Kampala! I have never lived more than 2 hours from my family... let alone out of the country. That said, making the decision to come here was a huge risk. I got so many goodbye calls, texts and audio messages full of well meant advice on how to handle Kampala life. If it were up to my mum I'd have moved in a truck full of supplies for the four month period. We struck a compromise at two suitcases! I am greatly excited: first by moving out here and finally getting to live independently and explore... and second, by the work that I will be doing here. For the next four months I will be working with Unreasonable East Africa as a Financial Architect... which is a cool super hero-ey way of saying that I will be helping a group of East African entrepreneurs, operating ventures that seek ...

RIP Guka Kibira. Up until last week when I read bikozulu's blog post on a kikuyu burial , I had never questioned the sense behind our burial customs. Now that I viewed them through a fresh pair of eyes, it is a wonder that I have never questioned the logic behind taking photos at a funeral... posing behind the casket! On Wednesday we buried my grandfather, my mom's uncle, and it was a sober, dignified ceremony befitting the respectable 87 year old man. During the now infamous photo session, the MC called for the late man's nephews to take a photo. he mentioned one of them by name: KiMuriithi Kinene (The big Muriithi), jokingly referring to him by his childhood nickname. As an aside, he added that Muriithi was clearly still kinene (big). I glanced across at my mum, remembering this set of pliers that Muriithi had left at our house when I was only six, and that we had taken to calling KiMuriithi Kinene . I can bet that you are imagining Muriithi as a hulking, big-b...

Last night I was chatting with my mom when I told her that one of my former lecturers was got married recently.  " Kwani how young is she?" my mom asked, as she continued to peel bananas with a deftness that I will never master. "He's a man," I replied, wondering why she had instinctively assumed that I was talking about a girl. "Then you said it wrongly. Men don't get married. They marry," she went on, all grammar-Nazi. This conversation, like almost all conversations at my house was going on in Kikuyu. I have to brag that my Kikuyu is really good. Much better than my Swahili. However, I have never understood why when referring to marriage, in Kikuyu the man is always the subject while the woman is the object. Isn't this great institution supposed to be a partnership? Why then is it always the man doing the marrying while the woman is said to be getting married as if she is making no active choice in the matter? Pet peeve right there....

Hi 17 year old Ivy. This is your 22 year old version. 5 years older, 50 years wiser. I hope you would be proud of what I have become were you to meet me. Your mind had been so focused on KCSE so I want to just tell you that you did it! You passed. scratch that, you did exceptionally well. What will surprise you more is that there are greater things in life than that exam that was the sole focus of your life for four years. Remember that 5 -year plan that you had in your journal. The one in which  you planned to have an Actuarial Science degree from UoN in five years time? Well, you almost have that degree, but it will be from Strathmore and not UoN. Maybe you had some sort of premonition about it when you stuck that flier you got at the career fair in your locker. Campus wasn't the rave you expected it to be. I mean, you met some pretty cool people but I sincerely hope that those weren't the best days of your life because that would suck. In a surprising twist, you fell ...