Ifehenia's blog

Anyone who knows me know how impatient I am. I simply cannot stand lateness... Yet, some of the most important people in my life have a slow internal clock. The fact that I still talk to them is evidence of my goodness. Image source: Pinterest Last Friday I was impatently waiting for someone at the Java in TRM. On an aside, has anyone noticed how Javas in the CBD and all these malls frequented by the emerging consumer* have comparable service to Olive Green and those other crowded restaurants along Tom Mboya? I mean, serviettes are a luxury. You'll be lucky if your coffee doesn't splash on you when they dump it on your table! I am digressing. Coffee houses will be a post for another day. Anyway, I was reading an okay book and waiting for someone to think of asking if I wanted a coffee refill. In true Java fashion, the waiter led this couple to my table. Regardless of the fact that a book is the global 'Do Not Disturb' sign that even a moron ought to understand. ...

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...

I am a sucker for letters. I wish people still wrote them more often. Well, this here was inspired by this.  Dear Aria, First off, let’s be clear that your name is Aria… and not Beyoncé or Rihanna as your father may be deluded into thinking. Your name is as beautiful as music (it actually means ‘A long, accompanied song for a solo voice, typically one in an opera or oratorio’) but let’s pretend that I was deep and philosophical enough to come up with that on my own. If you aren’t the pretty, prima-donna type of little girl, then you can tell everyone that your name means ‘lioness’… because it does. Aria, by now you must know that mommy loves words… reading them and writing them. That’s why we will take on adventures to solve mysteries with The Famous Five; we will get creeped out by the horrors of Goosebumps on many a night… and when you have been a really good girl, we’ll step out of this mundane muggle world and see what’s been happening in Hogwarts. Who knows, ...