My lovely,

What can I say? It’s been a minute. No that’s a lie. It’s been a while-a long long while. Honestly speaking I do not know how to face you. I doubt you even remember my face. The right- fitting words escape me but I will try.

People have been asking about you. A reasonable number of them have in boxed me to inquire whether we are still a thing and I have replied with two grey ticks (blue is just too cold).I simply lacked a legit explanation and there’s only so much emojis can say. Some people think we are not together anymore. They think we called it quits, threw in the towels and the sheets. That somebody lied, somebody slept outside-maybe me-most likely me. Some are probably sneering at the back with a mocking  “I knew they wouldn’t last” face while zealously double-tapping on Bikozulu’s Instagram .O boy!


Can I call you baby?

I know lately there’s been bad blood between us. Lately we can’t look each other in the eye. I have been acting real shifty you’d think I am out to outsmart the Jubilee Government. What I say is not what I mean, leave alone do. I say I want to be with you but half the time I am hiding from you, opening tabs and closing them as quick. I have been professing water but boy have I gurgled on gallons of wine!It is as if I do not know what I want in this relationship anymore. My priorities are all over the place and my compass is perilously dancing at “terminate”. Baby I hold no pride in the classic 21st Century version silent treatment I have been serving you. You deserve better. We both know it.

I have handed you the short end of the stick one too many times these past few months it has become routine. Like an absconder dad I have disappeared for days on end, feeding from the arms of another. Yet you are such a beautiful baby. Beautiful and famous. In less than a year you have met more people than I have known my entire life. In Norway alone you have been “viewed” over one thousand times yet I, the rightful heir to the throne suffer from attention deficiency and reside in a lush remote village in Kenya that only comes alive during elections when politicians pour us cheap liquor/ lessos and empty promises, or whenever a suspect witch  on-the-run is torched to the ground. What’s worse? I cannot for the life of me trace Norway in my head map. Mark you I took Geography in high school. Do Norwegians even read English or you are an insistent virus that appears in their spam mail and they have to click on you all the damn time? Okay I may be a little jealous. It should be allowed for someone whose best idea of “majuu” is sleeping on the top bunk of a double-decker bed. If anything, the farthest I have been to ‘abroad’ is that one time in primary school when my dad took us to Malaba border-the Ugandan side -where I saw policemen in white and thought to myself “Damn! The world really has much to offer.”

By now you think am kissing ass just to please you or make up for all the time I have gone AWOL but you got to take me seriously. We have a good thing going on. Let me tell you a story.

Two weeks ago I am attending an empowerment forum at Lukenya Getaway (yes, I am about that life) and 99% of the audience consists of total strangers with the exception of two of my schoolmates. Words like “value-based” and “emotional intelligence” keep popping up so this is a no-jokes affair. Things are serious. So I am sitted there wondering how this facilitator has such yellow legs and also “Where did all that mint go? It was just here” when I am asked to say something about goals and goal-setting and that kind of stuff. All mascaraed eyes turn to me, the un-mascaraed alike. The audience is interested in knowing what the bespectacled lady with a long chin has to say. I imagine they think I am going to say I want to join the army and destroy all the bad guys in the universe because I have such a man-ish hairdo and I don’t look like I wax…

Short story shorter I go ahead to bore them with my writing goals yadda yadda and by chance you come up. I mention you so casually like it’s the most kawaida thing to own a blog-something I do to unwind after I’m done counting my trillions from all the chains of restaurants I own. Huh! Needless to say the whole room registers this unanimous mass reaction after they hear about you an observer would have thought the whole thing had been stage-managed. They ask me your name and I take a deep breath before saying it. You have an odd name you know. That aside you spiral me to a certain form of fame. Suddenly I become interesting. At break-time two ladies walk over to me (on separate instances) all excited and awed telling me that they have known you for a while and they like you. They can’t believe I’m that kawaida girl. I tell them I am not. That’s just you. The look on my face is priceless though! For a moment there I understand what it means to be in the limelight; what it means to be a Kardashian. I try to act calm and unaffected but inside I want to shriek in excitement and do a jig to “switi, switi banana…”Suffice to say in less than two minutes I had already  identified the string of products I’d endorse in your name starting  with Nike, Rolex, Mercedes and such other finer things of life. No mediocre. In fact had one more stranger “awwwed” about you during that forum I’d have started my own reality TV show right after. Something pleasurably sore like ”KEEPING UP WITH THAT KAWAIDA GIRL…IT’S NOT HOT UNTIL IT’S HOT”

Banter aside, you mean a lot to me. Yes, it’s about that time things get real personal. Grab a hankie!(that sounds awfully wrong).

Baby what we have here is not fickle. It has never been a fling and never will be.We are in this for the long run. I may be out here chasing dreams but you make up a huge chunk of my reality.So stay with me dear,will you?Hold my hand.Walk with me. We’ll go places, I promise.

{While writing you this hearty letter a Tanzanian band called “Yamoto”-(we also do not know why) has been playing in the background- a song called “Nitakupwelepweta”.It is a mouthful-fingerful in this case-so please be a darling and replace the “Ni” with “Si”. In case it still doesn’t make any sense just read the good intention behind my dedix. It is the thought that counts, right? }

P.S-I found it a little uncomfortable calling you baby. Can we just be friends?

P.P.S- Seriously, it’s not you, it’s me.

Yours writefully,

That Kawaida Girl the 1st



  1. I’m glad you confirmed that kawaida girl isn’t you to the audience that came up to you during the break coz I’m in love with the blog ‘that kawaida girl.’
    Unfortunately you keep calling her baby but hopefully you’ll friendzone her, otherwise things are about to get pretty ugly between us. Love Triangle manenoz😂😂


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